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monkeyd-lily · 2 years

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Fairy Tail: Neela Dragneel

Fire Dragons Monkey and Bull Part 2

Everything belongs to Hiro Mashima, I own nothing besides my characters.

Neela's pov

We all got our magic ready and were about to go at it again. I froze when I heard a loud stomp and someone say in a really deep voice "Will you fools stop bickering like children!?".

Oh crap it's Gramps. Gramps is our guilds master, so he's in charge of us all. He's not my real grandfather but he's been like one ever since I joined. I also call him Old Man and sometimes, occasionally I call him Master. But only if I have to. If I'm pissed I'll call him by his name which is Makarov. I turned around and saw that he was using his magic to make himself tall. He can change the size of any part of his body using his magic, when in reality he is one if the shortest people I have ever met. I swear, I think he's only like 3 feet tall.

Everyone froze except for one idiot. And just who do you think that single idiot was? I'll give you a hint, we unfortunately have the same hair color.And of course the idiot just had to speak, "Hahahahahaha, man talk about a bunch of babies. Looks like I won this round you guy-". And as expected his stupidity got him squashed under Gramps' huge foot. Gramps started talking again.

"Well it seems we have a new recruit." He shrunk back to his normal size. "Nice to meet cha." He was talkin to Blondie. Finally I can relax.

I went over to check up on Natsu.

"Hey, idiot" I raised my hand a smacked him hard on the back of the head, "Wake up!".

"Owww! The hell was that for!?!"

"Huh? What are you talking about? That wasn't me, maybe a piece of wood from the fight flew and hit you." I replied oh so innocently. And Natsu being the idiot he is fell for it.

"Huh, maybe your right."

Gramps jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling before landing on the railing for the second floor.

"You've gone and done it again, you bunch of morons! Take a look and see how much paperwork the magic council sent me this time. This is the biggest pile of complaints yet. Have you lost your minds!?! All you kids are good for is getting the higher ups mad at me!"

Well, seems like someone hasn't had their tapioca yet, whiney old fart.

"However..." He then set the stack of papers on fire. "I say to heck with the magic council."

He threw the flaming papers into the air, and before I could even think my reflexes sent me jumping in the air catching it like a frisbee. I started eating it but shared it with Natsu while Gramps continued his speech.

"Now listen up, any power that surpasses reason still comes from reason right? Magic isn't some kind of miraculous power, it's a talent that only works when the flow of energy inside us and the flow of energy in the natural world are in perfect synchronization. To perform magic one must have a strong mind and the ability to focus, it should take over your being and pour out of your soul. If all we do is worry about following rules then our magic will never progress. Don't follow those blowhards of the magic council, follow the path you believe in. Cause that's what makes the Fairy Tail Guild #1!!!"

He put his hand in the air making our guild symbol, it looks like an "L" . The rest of us then put our hand in the air doing the same thing.

After everything was cleaned up, which I didn't help with at all btw, Natsu and I headed over to the request board to look for a job. Well Natsu looked, I sorta just stared of into space while leaning my head against his shoulder. Blondie came up behind us.

"Hey Natsu, Neela, look Mirajane just put the official Fairy Tail mark on my hand" she said excitedly.

"That's great" Natsu said not really paying attention.

"Oh yea? That's cool welcome to the guild looney." I said with a bored tone and purposely getting her name wrong to tick her off.

"The names Lucy!!!" She yelled back. Natsu and I have our guild marks too. They're both red and are on the top of our right shoulders.

"Make sure you pick one with a big reward Natsu." Happy said.

"Woah! 160,000 jewel just to get rid of some thieves?" Natsu exclaimed.

"Sounds good to me." I said.

"How come my dad hasn't come back yet?" I heard Romeo ask Gramps.

Romeo is the son of Macao, one of the wizards here. He's like a little brother to me, he's so cute and sweet and looks up to me and Natsu. He's 6 years old. It made me sad seeing him like that cause I know how he feels. I miss my father too and I want to find him. How is it so hard to find a dragon? I mean seriously? They're fuckin huge, so why the hell is it so damn hard? I could feel Natsu put his hand on my shoulder calming me down and trying to make me feel better.

"You're startin to work my nerves Romeo, you're a wizards son have faith in your father and wait patiently for him." Gramps replied.

"But sir, he told me that he'd be back in 3 days, and he's been gone for over a week now!"

"If I remember correctly he took the job on Mt. Hakobe."

"That's right and it's not so far from here so why won't somebody go look for him?!"

"Listen kid your old mans a wizard and like every other wizard in this guild he can take care of himself! Now go home, have some milk and cookies, and wait."

"Jeeeerk!!" Romeo said while punching him in the face then running away. Ok now that part, kinda made me giggle inside lol. I know it may seem like Gramps is being mean, but he really is worried.

"I hate you all!!"

Seeing Romeo crying made me even more upset that I had to punch the board before running after him. Natsu and Happy followed behind, he knew what I wanted to do and didn't object to it, he was probably about to do the same thing, I just did it faster. I ran until I saw Romeo and slowed down a bit and walked in front of him, causing him to bump into me. He saw me a started to try and wipe his tears away. I bent down so we were eye-to-eye.

"*sniffle*sniffle* N-Neela, hey w-what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry Rome, your big sis is going to make everything ok, I promise." I said giving him my best smile while wiping his tears away.

"Re-Really? You are?"

"Yup, pinky promise." His face instantly lit up and he jumped into my arms squeezing me tightly. This boy, he is probably the only one who can get me to do anything using the same cuteness tactics that I use on Natsu and almost everyone else.

"Haha, thanks Neela, your the best sister ever!"

"Aw thanks, no problem kiddo." I saw Natsu coming so I put Romeo down. Natsu ruffled his hair really quick before we started heading towards Mt. Hakobe.

"Blergh why'd you come with us?" Natsu asked Lucy.

Not long after we left Romeo she showed up and asked to come along. I said that it was fine. Now we're sitting inside a carriage and Natsu has his head in my lap because of his motion sickness.

"I thought maybe I could help, wow you really do have a serious case of motion sickness don't you? That's just another reason to feel sorry for you." She replied with a sad face.

"Huh? What's that suppose to mean?" Natsu and I asked.

"Oh, nothing, forget I said anything."

"Um.....ok then, whatever I'm taking a nap." I laid my upper body sideways across Natsu's back while not moving my lower half so he could still relax.

I woke up to pain. I started rubbing my head cause apparently Natsu just had to dance like he won the freakin lottery just because we stopped moving.

"Natsu you idiot!! You don't just jump in the air when someones taking a nap on your damn back!"

"Oopsies, hehe sorry sis." He said rubbing the back of his neck. "Tell you what, how about I give you a piggy back ride up the mountain huh?" That bastard, using a cheap trick like that. He knows how much I love piggy back rides.

"Fine your off the hook, this time." I jumped on his back and ignored everything else so that I could try and go back to my nap.

I couldn't take it anymore, Lucy's constant whining kept interrupting my nap.

"I want to go back to the guild, she proclaims." Said this weird talking clock spirit of hers. She was sitting inside him curled up freezing.

"Go ahead and be my guest I say back." I retorted. What a cry baby she totally should've asked where we were going before she came.

"So what's a Vulcan anyways? She asks." Said the clockman. Sigh, she doesn't even know what a Vulcan is? Heh, must be because she's blonde:P. Haha whatever, might as well explain.

"A Vulcan is hu-" .

"What is it? What's wrong Neela? She asks slightly frightened."

"O-Oh, nothing really. Ummmm......hey, Natsu. When you say Vulcan, you don't mean those huge monkey things d-do you??"

"Huh? Yea of course I do."

"What? She cries out scared."

"What other Vulcan could I mean Neela? Oh crap that's right I forgot." Natsu gasped.

"What's wrong? She asks."

"It's Neela, she's been terrified of Vulcans since we were kids." It's not my fault, they're just so big, creepy, and gross. If we run into one (hopefully we don't) you'll see what I mean by creepy & gross.

Natsu and Happy started yelling for Macao.

"IDIOTS ARE YOU INSANE!?! DON'T SCREAM SO DAMN LOUD, DO YOU WANT THE VULCANS TO FIND US? OH OF COURSE YOU DO CAUSE YOU HATE ME, THAT'S IT, YOU HATE ME AND WANT ME TO DIE DON'T YOU!?! Maaacaaao" I whispered at the end.

"Now Neela it's ok just calm down. Don't worry about it ok? I'm here to protect you, that's what big brothers are for." He said rubbing my arms.

"Ok" I breathed out.

Not even 2 seconds later what comes out of nowhere? Oh, I'll tell you, A GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING VULCAN THAT'S WHAT!!! Phew, just breathe Neela breathe. Natsu can probably handle it, it'll be a-ok....But there was no way in hell that I was taking any chances. So I ran away into the clock and snuggled up with Lucy.

"Neela? What are you doing?"

"Oh, um nothing. Just thought I'd keep my new friend and rookie Fairy Tail member warm with my Fire Dragon Slayer and Wolf warmth."

"Oh well thank you that's so nice."

"Oh yea sure sure nice." Maybe if I finish my nap it'll go away faster. Suddenly I heard knocking on the glass. Please be Natsu please be Natsu please be Natsu please be Natsu please be Natsu please be-. I opened my eyes and saw the huge Vulcan staring right back at me. Lucy and I both screamed.

"Me like human women." It picked up the clockman and ran off with us. "Don't just stand there do your brotherly duty and save me, I mean us, but mostly me Neela yells furiously while crying." Said clockman.

The Vulcan took us back to his ice lair and started dancing around excitedly.

"How did I get myself into this mess? And what's with this giant monkey, why's he so excited?" Lucy asks.

"It's because Vulcans are complete perverts and are always trying to mate with the girls that they find. This is why I'm terrified of them." I replied.

"Wait Neela did one try and mate with you before?"

"Not exactly, it's kind of a long story and I don't like to talk about it, especially to someone I don't even know."

"Oh, that's ok you don't have too. But in the future when you feel that you can trust me you can tell me if you want, I'm a really good listener and I promise I won't judge or make fun of you." She said with a pure smile. It's been a while since I've met anyone like her, I mean it's not that there isn't anyone like that in the guild it's just that they all already know what happened. But, maybe I really can trust her. I don't sense any falseness to what she just said. I hugged her.

"Thanks blondie I will, one day."

"Haha, alright, back to the problem at hand. " The Vulcan was staring at us through the glass with that creepy grin and saying women.

All of the sudden Lucy's clock spirit disappeared. WHAT!?! AW COME ON NO FAIR:'(.

"Where'd you go Horologium?? Don't you dare disappear on us!!" Lucy yelled.

"Sorry but my time is up, take care" He replied. THAT'S IT, AS SOON AS I GET BACK I'M BREAKING EVERY CLOCK I CAN!!

"Give me an extension, please!" Lucy cried. The Vulcan kept looking at us and put his arms up to capture us. I couldn't take it, all my memories about that incident just kept coming back and I couldn't think straight. I didn't know what else to do. The one thing I knew for sure though, was that I needed my brother. So I did the only other thing I could do.

"NATSUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I know that he will come for me. He knows how much I hate Vulcans and why, so I know that he's already searching for me and that he had to be close. That scream was just to let him know exactly where we are. And a few seconds later, I heard him running.

"Hey big ape, where the hell is my little sister?! Tell me!!" Yes! My big brothers here. Yea Natsu go ahead teach this asshole a les....son.........ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?! AFTER ALL THAT HE SLIPS ON THE DAMN ICE, LANDS ON HIS HEAD, AND SLIDES INTO THE WALL!??!

"That was so uncool, why does he always feel like he needs to make a big entrance all the time?" Lucy said shaking her head.

"Because he's an idiot." I said back while facepalming.

"Spill it monkey, where is our friend?" Me and Lucy ran over to him.

"Neela are you okay?"

"Yea I'm fine." He could tell that I was thinking about "that time", so he pushed me behind him to sheild me from the Vulcans pervy glares. I clung to his shirt.

"I'm warning you you damn dirty ape, if you touch a single strand of my baby sisters beautiful pink hair, I'll kick your ass. Now, where's Macao? You understand me right? He is a human man. Tell us where he is!" The monkey scratched his chin thinking for a moment. "That's right, where are you hiding him?"

"Don't you think you might be jumping to conclusions?" Lucy asked. The monkey started flapping his hand in the air pointing in a direction.

"Hey, I think he's gonna show me."

I let go of Natsu as he went to go check, I kinda had a bad feeling but it wasn't that bad so I ignored it. He walked to a hole leading outside and called for Macao. Out of nowhere the monkey pushed Natsu out of the hole where he fell down a dark cliff.

"Natsu!!" Lucy and I both screamed looking down into the darkness.

I wasn't really worried though, because I know that this would never kill him. The monkey was doing some weird happy/victory dance behind us while singing (if you can even call that singing) "No like man, me like women. Women women women women women women."

"All right you pervy monkey, you're goin down." Lucy said grabbing one of her keys. "Open gate of the golden bull Taurus!" This huge cowman came out of nowhere. It had a human looking body but his skin was white with black spots just like a cow and had a cow face. He also had a cow tail, horns, and bell that was strapped around his neck. To top it all off he carried a huge axe that was strapped to his back. He was actually pretty cool looking.

"I should warn you monkey boy Taurus is the most powerful Celestial spirit that I have a contract with."

"Oh wow Miss Lucy, I almost forgot what a nice figure you have, so does your little friend here, why don't you ladies come over here and give me a smoooch?"

"Oh yea, and he's a big perv too." Lucy said. Yea he's not so cool anymore.

"No touch my women" said the Vulcan.

"Your women? Thems fightin words you moooonkey." Taurus replied.

"Get em!" Lucy commanded. Taurus jumped into the air and grabbed the axe he carried on his back, he then swung it down into the ground as if he were trying to cut it in two. The attack traveled through the ground towards the Vulcan but it dodged it.

"He's fast." Lucy said. The Vulcan was coming at Taurus and the pervy cow was about to block when the biggest idiot I know kicked Taurus in the chin sending him flying and causing him to become unconscious. I mean don't get me wrong I'm glad to know that Natsu is ok but he's just so stupid.

"Hey, so how come there are more monsters than when I left?"

"He's a friend dummy one of my spirits!"

"That guy?" Natsu asks pointing at the Vulcan. Yup, he's stupid alright.

"Not him the bull. Wait a minute, how were you able to survive out there?"

"Happy came to save me. Thanks lil buddy."

"Ai" Happy replied.

"So you can't handle other modes of transportation but Happy's ok?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? Happy's isn't a mode of transportation he's our friend. I mean duh." I said.

"You're right it was totally wrong of me to compare the two." Pfft, she is just way too easy haha.

Suddenly the Vulcan jumped at Natsu screaming "My women!" (A/N: Sorry but skipping the fight scene again. I'm just not that good at it yet and i wanna finish this up so that I can update My One Piece cuz i feel kinda bad that i haven't updated in a while.) Natsu and the Vulcan started fighting, after a few minutes Natsu knocked him out cold.

"We beat him!" Happy exclaimed.

"Yea but wasn't this monkey supposed to tell us where your friend is?" Lucy pointed out.

"Oh, forgot about that hehe." Natsu replied. I was just happy that it stopped checking me out.

All of the sudden the Vulcan started glowing and blinded us for a second. When we looked back after the light went away we were shocked to see that the Vulcan......was really Macao.

"Are you telling me that big, perverted monkey was really your friend this whole time." Lucy asked freaking out.

"Yea he must've been taken over by that Vulcan." Happy calmly replied.

"What do you mean taken over?"

"It must have used a possesion spell on him. You see Vulcan's survive by stealing people's bodies and taking them over. They're evil body snatchers." Happy replied. We took Macao and laid him out on the blanket Lucy was using and bandaged him up.

"It looks like he put up a good fight before that Vulcan finally got to him though." Happy pointed out.

"Macao, don't you die on me, Romeo's waiting for you, I promised him that I'd bring you back. Please, don't make me break my promise. Open your eyes!" I cried.

"Neela? Natsu?" Macao said.

"Your okay." Natsu and I happily said.

"I'm so pathetic, I defeated 19 of those brutes. But the 20th, that's the one that got me. I'm so angry with myself and embarressed to go home and face Romeo."

"Don't be like that, come on man you beat 19 monsters" Natsu said.

I stuck out my hand to him and he took it, "Now let's go home, you got an adorable little boy who's waitin for ya."

I pulled him up and let his arm hang around my neck while I grabbed his waist since he couldn't really walk that well and Natsu and Lucy both fought, so I didn't want to be so useless. We started heading back to the town.

We were walking to Macao's place, when we got there we saw Romeo sitting on the steps looking all sad and cute.

"Hey, Romeo!" I yelled while waving my hand, so did Natsu. It was so cute watching him go from shocked to happy crying to throwing himself into his dads arms.

"You came back, I'm so sorry dad."

"No, I'm sorry, for making you worry."

"I can handle it cause I'm a wizards son."

"Next time those boys pick on you here's what I want you to say, can your old man defeat 19 monsters all by himself? Cause mine can."

Natsu started to leave so I turned around and followed him and so did Lucy and Happy.

"Neelaaaaaa, Nastuuuuuu, Happyyyyy, thanks for your help!"

"No problem kiddo" Nastu said.

"And thanks for always keeping your promise big sis!"

"I'll always keep my promise, especially for the worlds cutest boy!" I replied.

"Lucy! Thanks for helping to bring my daddy back to me!" Lucy replied by turning around and waving at him. We then raced back to the guild where Gray, Loke, Elfman, and Mira were all standing outside welcoming us back.

#fairy tail #laxusxoc #laxus dreyar #natsuxoc #natsu dragneel

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fleshblueberry · 3 years

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Babe wake up im going to rant about my ocs lore because im bored

Tw/cw depression, suicide, kidnapping, addiction, unreality

I write angsty stuff for my ocs oops-

When i first started making my characters they were very different in alot of ways and they were very different from what they are now. But i some how managed to glue all the chaos of my ocs together into a semi-coherent story. I went through an insane amount of world building with myself and i honestly dont think ive ever writen or typed any of it out before! its all just up in my head (and you know my memory is trash so ive probably forgotten of alot of things i made before lol). Anyways- i have two main story lines for my characters. Ethan's story, and Vevlet's story. Although i must admit Ethan's story is less complex than velvets simply beacsue it acts as a story of prequeal to Velvets story line. (Alternate realities that happen to have effect on each other basically- we love space time junk)

Ethan's world is very similar to ours, the most similar out of any of my fantasy worlds lol. Ethan's story revolves around self-discovery. I mean for it to be a wholesome/lighthearted thing that quickly leads up to dark undertones (spoilers lol). Ethan's story begins with Eef pre-transition (AFAB to NB). We get to see Ethan learn about themself and have fun exploring emotions and what it means to be alive. Ethan comes from a run-down family (mom khs, dad mia). So he lives with his adoptive parents (who i have yet to design and think about- theyre lesbians 100% though). A major moment for Eef is meeting his partner Seth. As you already know Ethan and Seth are cute ass boyfriends and stuff but guess what! im jammed their story full of angst and edgy shit bc i "wrote" most of this when i was hella depressed! Anyways Seth's family is like moderally welathy, wealthier than most i would say. Seth catches feelings for the emo chick ofc (forgot to metion Eef was definately a hot goth girl before he transitions).... uh yea anyways seth ends up flirting and crushing on eef and eef is like yea sure im bored and sad why not. and they end up dating after a while. Theres an important moment in their relationship when Ethan take Seth to this dead tree. THis dead tree is very important also bc it is where his mother hanged herself, and Ethan doesnt quite remember that bc he was very young when it happened, but he knows it as a place of comfort and he goes there alot when he feels sad or alone. this tree could be taken as symbolizim but heheh ill never tell. anyways Ethan is like yo my fevorite tree and Seth is like wtf okay bro ily and all but why a dead tree with an unstable tire swing?? ANd ethans like idk but i like it here reminds me of my childhood (op my guy) and they spend the night there. Also when ethan comes out to seth as nonbinary seth is just like ok,,, because hes bisexual lol. anyways time skip and Seth has some addiction problems once he graduates, long story short- Ethan doesnt like it bc his dad was a druggie so he trys to help Seth and Seth raises his voice and ethan is tiny compared to his bf so hes naturally like terrified of being hit and he suddenly feels his world of happy and peace he build back up bieng destroyed once again so he heads to his mothers dead tree and decides life isnt worth it anymore, and he hangs himself in the exact spot his mother did.... once seth comes off one of his highs or whatever hes like- oh fuck i yelled and acted agro to my traumatized partner. and he immedatly goes to the tree bc its Ethans favortie spot but its to late. regret is the only emootion anymore... its over for them.

now youre probably wondering how the absolute hell does that tie into velvets lore?? well do i have a tale for you. Velvets sotry begins on her 21st birthday, she is out for drinks with her douchebag bf and her bestfriend. several drinks later she yells over blaring club music shes going to the restroom, and as shes walking back she sees her bf and her bestie making out and she doesnt even say anyhting and walks out alone. She is making her way back to her apartment very tipsy. She then hears a vechile driving beside her, she cant make out anyhting theyre saying and the people in the car get out and before she even relises whats going on shes thrown into the vechile and is being beaten and yelled at. She passes out as theyre driivng to somewhere. When she next awakes she is in a barn-looking place. Concreate walls painted red and straw all over the floor. she cant stand, her legs stung and so did her entire body. for several days- she doesnt know how long she stayed in this place unable to move or do anything. Weak and starving, she gathered up her last bit of strength and hung herself on a low board (havent really worked out the details on that scence bc i keep changing my mind but she does hang herself). Cut to a space of nothingness- legit nothing- exactly its impossible to imagine nothing. In the nothing sits velvet all skin and bone, and then an entity, a hooded figure with long hair, sits next to her. No words are spoke, but the entity looks at velvet longingly. Then it tears out its eye- just full on plunges its hand into its socket and rips it out. bloody mess honestly. the entity hands its eye to velvet, and she takes it. there is no thoughts here, no sound, only actions. Cut once more to a coriners room place? ya know the place with dead bodies and tables and shit- anyways a bright light emerges from dead!vevlets chest and surrounds her entire body. *cue stunned doctor mans* Velvet arises from her death with her scars healed over and... wings. Yup shes an angel now. I mean her world already had monsters and things of suppernatural belonging but- angels are rare. She makes 1 of 2 angels in their relam as of current. Angels are "made" from regrets. Regret overflowing from two sources- one long dead and the other recent. This is where ethan comes in. Ethan's regret from how he died was powerful and sad, powerful enough for his spirt- an entity- to reach Velvets. Velvet too, had much regret in her death. So young and so many things that could have been avoided. In the days following up to her death in the barn/cellar she only felt regret. Regret for all she did and all she didnt do. So much pain summoned the entity. Their powerful forces of regret pulled them together and allowed Velvet to return- but at a price for the both of them. the entity lost its eye- symbolizing a loss of humanity and conscientiousness. While Velvet lost herself, she no longer can view her world in the same way. She has severe ptsd- like episodes and halucinations. She cant go back, she has to live through he own grief. Velvets appearnace also changes quite a bit. Her hair got longer, she has two sleek gray wings on her back, and- one of her eyes are purple now. why does it hrut her to see that eye? why is it all so familiar yet far away. Her human brain can hardly understand all the changes. But she was gifted this- she knows she must try. And luckily for her society sees angels as higher beings. They are given the umost respect but they are also greatly feared because of how misterious their origins are. The only other known angel meets with velvet quite alot through her story, he will act as a sort of guide/plot device to make things a bit easier for myself (havent worked out his lore tho or even a design for him hjbfkjsdb). Anyways im tired and its 1:35 am so thats all the lore you get for now, plus its the stuff ive thought about the most so- i dont really want to think any furtherb ahead yet lol. to many little things to work out...... i love creating but oml typing hurts after an hour or so-

Jam out!

... I don't even know what to say to this

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 3 years

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Love Is Blind: Chapter One

“Come on Robs, what could it hurt?”

Robyn looked over at her friend and frowned.

“Online Dating? Really? Do you know the kind of psychos on these sites?”

Leandra sighed, “Girl, ain’t nobody saying marry them but at least try it out. It’s been years since your divorce. Why are you still so gunshy?”

“Well maybe because my ex-husband ripped my heart out my chest.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? You and your ex-husband were both childish and lost. I still don’t think you should’ve gotten divorced either.”

“You and everyone else seems to have my failed marriage all figured out.”

“Look, forget about all of that, you need to get back out there, even if it’s just for a night of fun. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“You know what, just to shut you up, I’ll do it.”

“Good, I got your profile all set up, you just need to approve it and submit it.”

“How in the hell? This is the first time we’ve spoken about this.”

“Yea but this was just a minor technicality because I was gonna set you up anyway.”

“Ugh….get away from me.”

Leandra laughed as she slid her laptop over for Robyn to review the profile. After a few minutes, Robyn nodded her head in approval and pressed publish.

“So now what?”

“Now you wait to see if you get any hits or you just peruse others’ profiles too.”

Robyn was shaking her head before Leandra even finished her statement, “I am not perusing anything. I don’t even want to do this right now.”

“So let the men come to you, it is the natural order of things.”

“I’ma divorce you next.”

“You love me so whatever.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned her head on Leandra’s shoulder, “Le, do you really think this will help?”

“I think it’ll give you something to do while you try to get your life right again. I love you and I know you and I know that your divorce is something that you’re still trying to understand but your life doesn’t have to stop while you’re doing that. Things don’t have to be serious. You don’t have to fall in love with anybody but it wouldn’t hurt to get from behind these walls you’ve erected and live. You owe it to yourself, if nobody else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy, come on, the movie is starting”

Chris smiled as he rushed into the living room with a big bowl of popcorn. He sat next to his 3 year old daughter, Anesa, just as the classic Disney symbol flashed across the big screen.

“You know Princess, you could’ve just paused the tv. This is just a stream.”

“No because you were supposed to be faster anyway.”

Chris chuckled as he kissed her temple. He made the right decision becoming a foster dad two years ago. The little imp had done so much to replace the empty void in his life. He had suffered so much loss, being able to give that extra love to someone felt good. An image flashed in his head and he shook it. Years ago, he thought he had someone but that relationship crashed and burned. It surprised him that he even thought about her sometimes, all these years later.

Just as he started to become enamored with the Princess and The Frog, his phone rang. Anesa glanced over at him as he stepped out into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“CB, what’s going on, Bro?”

“Marcus, how you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m moving back to the city so I just wanted to check in and see if we could meet up one of these days.”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can watch my daughter so just let me know when.”

“Daughter? A lot has happened, huh?”

“Too much.”

“How’s the wife?”

“Divorced years ago. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you were joking. You really went through with it?”

“We weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye.”

“But you were together for so long since middle school, right?”

“Officially since high school but you’d think that would’ve made our life together much easier, but nope.”

“Wow. We definitely got some catching up to do. Well, I’m back officially on Friday. We can meet at Roddy’s Bar.”

“Cool. 8 good for you?”

“Perfect, Bro. See you then.”

“Bet.”

They hung up and Chris went back to watching TV with Anesa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn fought as much as she could to not be curious about the stupid dating app but….that only worked for so long. As she scrolled, the frown in her face just got deeper and deeper. What the hell had the world become? These men were just- no. It was hard being single. She hadn’t been single in years. Scratch that, ever. She’d never been single. She wasn’t used to being alone and being married was supposed to prevent that. Her ex-husband had literally tore her heart in two and she still hadn’t recovered. How two people so in love could be so incompatible baffled her mind to this day? Of course, her people just thought they were too young and just gave up too quickly but what would they know? They didn’t live with them 24/7. Yes, they had awesome memories but all she could remember was how alone she felt when he was in the bed right next to her. How withdrawn he had gotten in the last two years of their marriage. How unsettled she felt. Like she never knew when he would finally explode from holding everything in. She felt like she walked on eggshells her whole marriage but him asking for a divorce shook her to her very core and she had never bounced back from it. She endured his brutal silence, his emotional hardness but yet he was the one who walked away. It just never made sense to her. Just as she was about to close the app, a direct message popped up.

Subject: Hello

Body: Hi, I was browsing your profile and you seemed really interesting. I was wondering if you would like to chat.

Robyn frowned a bit but she clicked on his photo to be directed to his profile. 42 years old. Divorced. One child. College Music Professor.

He seemed harmless. His photo was full length so his face wasn’t the clearest but he looked decent. Besides he’d probably say something weird and she’d never have to meet him in person so what’s the risk and Leandra had listed her under just her initials so it’s not like he’d know her real name anyway.

Re: Hello

Body: Hi, I would love to chat with you. My name’s Anna. Yours?

A few minutes passed before she got a reply

Re: Hello

Body: Christian but my friends and family call me Chris. It’s nice to meet you Anna.

A: Chris? That must be a common name, I know a few of those.

C: I can imagine. Don’t know too many Annas though. Not the typical name of this time

A: It’s a little old school but I like it. I see you’re a music professor

C: Yup. Decided to change career paths once I got divorced a few years ago. You’re a veterinarian?”

A: Yea, I own a clinic and a shelter in the city.

C: No children?”

A: No. Seems like my animals take up all my time.

C: Understandable. Animals can be like children.

A: Definitely. How old is your child?

C: She’s three.

A: That’s an awesome age

C: Very fun and energetic

A: My friends have children so I definitely imagine. Have you lived in the city long?

C: Just a few years. I was working at another college when the possibility of tenureship opened up at Columbia. Normally that can take years so I got lucky for the invite.

A: you work at Columbia University? That is awesome

C: I think the shock still hasn’t worn off. Kind of waiting for them to take it back at some point

A: Lol when I got the keys to my clinic, I felt the same way

C: Where’d you go to school?

A: Stanford for undergrad. University of California, Davis for veterinary school.

C: Pretty far from home, huh?

A:New York has always been the place for me. I always knew I’d end up here. You?

C: I’m from down south so that’s where my soft spot is. I did my undergrad and grad at Stanford though.

A: Wow talk about a small world. It is a large school so I’m not surprised we haven’t met unless we have.

C: Probably not, don’t remember many Annas there

A: True. How do you like being a professor?

C: It’s cooler than I thought it would be. My previous job had a little bit more excitement but after some personal issues then my divorce, I had had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

A: My divorce kind of knocked me off balance so I can understand wanting to start over

C: How long were you married?

A: Three years. You?

C: Same. Together?

A: Over ten years. You?

C: Same. Bad ending?

A: I really don’t know. It wasn’t the best situation but it wasn’t the worst. I think abrupt would be a better word. You?

C: I walked away. I wasn’t the best husband but I think we really outgrew each other.

A: That can happen. How old were you?

C: 35. You?

A: 34. A lot can change in over ten years

C: True. I don’t know if she knew that though

A: did you try to tell her?

C: Honestly no but that’s partly why I walked away. I wasn’t any good for her let alone for myself. I struggled a lot emotionally back then, I still do now sometimes. She didn’t need that weight in her life

A: Did she say that or did you make that decision for her?

C: Both.

A: Ah. I’m sorry

C: No need. She was better off without me anyway

A: you still think about her?

C: I try not to. It hurts. Failure sucks.

A: tell me about it. Have you seen her over the years?

C:No. We both moved away once we got divorced. Don’t really know where she went to be honest

A: Same. Some things are just better left alone, I guess

C: True.

A: You know Chris, this was fun. I was a little nervous about this online thing

C: Really? I’ve done it once or twice before. It’s not too bad if you take it for what it is

A: And that is?

C: Just a way to meet people. Doesn’t have to go further than a conversation unless you let it

A: That is very true.

C: If it’s agreeable to you. I’d love to talk to you again

A: I’d like that

C: Great. I guess, until next time

A: Have a good night

C: You as well

Robyn closed out of the app after reading Chris’s last message. They had a lot in common, a lot more than her ex-husband. She got a little nervous when he said his name was Chris but once he clarified that his full name was Christian, she could let out a breath. Her ex-husband’s name when shortened was Chris but his full name was Christopher. Christopher was a common name but she really didn't need that reminder of him too.

Chris dropped his phone onto his nightstand just as Anesa ran into his room. He laughed as she tried to climb onto his bed before leaning over to pick her up, “what’s the matter Love Bug?”

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Of course you can. Did something happen?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aww...I’m sorry, Love Bug. Come on, get under the covers.

Anesa climbed under the blankets as Chris turned off the lights. She cuddled onto his chest and Chris hugged her close, “Comfortable?”

“Yes. Goodnight Daddy.

“Goodnight Love Bug.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So….how was it?” Leandra asked as her and Robyn sat down for breakfast.

“It was a nice conversation. He seemed like a decent guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Christian but people call him Chris.”

“You really have a thing for Chris’s, huh?”

“Don’t say that. Chris is just a common name.”

“It is but what a coincidence.”

“Yea.”

“So what does he do?”

“He teaches music at Columbia.”

“Nice. Educated. Kids?”

“A daughter.”

“Marital status?”

“Divorced like me.”

“Guess you can share horror stories.”

Robyn chuckled, “my marriage was a failure but not a horror story. Stop it.”

“Have you spoken to Chris?’

“Not since the divorce was final. Why?”

:Leandra shrugged.

“Le, what happened?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw somebody who looked like him the other day, that’s all.”

“Where? Here? In New York?”

“Yea.”

“Please don’t tell me we moved to the same state.”

“Robs, I don’t know if it was him. I just caught his profile. It could’ve been any cute light skin guy. They are running around here galore.”

“That’s true.”

“So about your new Chris?”

“What about him?”

“What’s the next move?”

“We agreed to talk again but nothing more than that. I’m still stuck in limbo, I’m not trying to make something out of nothing.

“I guess. Are you gonna meet him?”

“Nah. Some things are just better left alone, you know.”

“Not even if you really start to like him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m swearing off serious relationships until I fix my broken heart and I have no idea how long that’s gonna take.”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want to.”

“You were together a long time.”

“Yea and he still left me so what does that mean?”

Leandra sighed, “I don’t know. “

“Chris, who are you messaging so much?” Jessica, his sister, asked as she started stirring a pot of beans.

“I met this woman online. We’ve been talking for a few weeks.”

“Online dating? You sure that’s safe?”

“I don’t plan on meeting her so it’s not a huge deal. Just a conversation.”

“Few weeks is a long time for it to just be a conversation. You like her?”

“She seems really nice.”

“Glad you’re opening your heart up somehow.”

“I’m not opening anything up. I went down that road and have no qualms about avoiding it.”

“You know you walked away from your marriage, Chris. I don’t understand your apprehension with moving on.”

“I didn't walk away to move on. I walked away to keep from hurting her. Two different things. I’m not fit to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage. My daughter is the only woman I’m concerned about right now.”

“Anesa can’t be your whole life.”

“Who says?”

“I wish Momma was here to talk some sense into you.”

“Don’t do that, Jess.”

“What? She was the only person you listened to. Did you ever tell your ex what happened with Momma?”

“No.”

“You never took her to meet her?”

“It’s not like she was around. Auntie C raised me.”

“So when you left every weekend to see Momma in the hospital your ex never asked why?”

“She asked. I never answered.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t for her to know. She didn’t need that kind of weight on her, ok?”

“You never gave her a chance to really love you, Chris.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter. She moved away and about her life. I did the same. No harm, no foul.”

“I wouldn’t quite say no harm, no foul but whatever.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don't want you to hurt this new woman because you’re still in love with your past, Chris.”

“I’m not in love with anyone so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“And that worries me even more.”

#loveisblindfanfiction #chrianna

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takeflight-hermitcraftau · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2-Two Brain cells with a Death Wish

Grian looked back at Mumbo, the words resonating in his head for a second. “Well… You see.” He started out softly, sitting up straighter and wrapping his wings loosely around himself. “In my other world, Evolution, We started finding these pillars. These symbols made of bedrock and obsidian. If we did good deeds, if we followed what they told us to do, we were rewarded. Any sign of selfishness or cruelty was punished.” Grian scratched at the back of his neck, looking at Mumbo for any signs of annoyance.

“So they were… essentially the gods of your world?” He asked, Grian nodded.

“Essentially yea. They watched over us and made sure we got through updates at the pace they wanted us too. Everyone on the server told me my wings were because of them, that I should be happy, and that I might be like them. But I don’t wanna be. It seems so boring. You build the same pillars, the same towers, without any change. You don’t seem to have any worldly ties. It seems… lonely. Besides, with my nature I’m pretty sure they hate me.” Grian curled up into himself a bit, his voice trailing off into a mumble.

“You’re nature? You mean your playful and silly attitude? You mean your work ethic and your willingness to try new things and learn?” Mumbo asked, a small and comforting smile pulling onto his face. Grian looked up at him, almost confused by what he said. “Do you not believe me?”

“No, yes- i mean-! I don’t know. I’m not used to all this. Everyone back home kinda just ignored me until I decided to blow up their base or steal diamonds. When they needed me to rebuild or replace stuff. People usually didn’t call me over to just have a chat.” Grian said, sighing as he shifted to face Mumbo. “But what about you? What about everyone else here? Why do you all have wings?”

“Well… I shouldn’t tell everyone’s stories. Some are a bit personal. But I believe most of them come from a glitch. Something happened and we were spawned in with them. We don’t really question it.” Mumbo shrugged, “But people like Doc and Cleo have a bit more of a troubled history with their glitched parts. Not to mention they were already player hybrids to start. But hey, those sorts of things are in the past, and they make us look bloody cool don’t it?” Mumbo grinned, listening to Grian’s high pitched laugh as his head was thrown back.

“Right. Now… just cause i’m curious. How fast can you go?” Grian asked, trying to change the topic. Mumbo perked up proudly.

“I’d say a solid 50 blocks per hour.” He said, the feathers of his wings ruffling a bit. Grian just laughed.

“Only 50? I can get to a solid 100 without breaking a sweat!” Grian challenged. Mumbo stood up.

“You wanna test that mate?” he asked. Grian stood up as well.

“First one to the fantasy district and back wins?”

“Deal.” The two shook hands, readying themselves at the top of Mumbo’s base, hands firm against the white concrete, legs bent and ready to snap at a moments notice. Their wings were open, Mumbo’s only slightly so he didn’t slam Grian into the ground on take off.

“Three…” Grian started, a grin pulling at his face.

“Two…” Mumbo glanced over to the dirty blond, not liking the look on his face. Chaos was aflame in his eyes, and it was almost unnerving.

“ONEGO!” Grian yelled, his feet pushing against the concrete as he launched himself into the air. He sped off, leaving Mumbo screaming in the distance. “EAT MY TAIL FEATHERS MUMBO JUMBOLIO!” Grian yelled behind himself, before looking straight ahead. He expertly dodged mountains and tall trees, hands out in front of him and helmet secured tightly to his head.

Wind whipped passed him, and he had to yell an apology to Scar for nearly crashing into him, but the two narrowly avoided each other. Grian smiled widely as the smell of the ocean faded into grass and trees, then back into that salt like scent. He saw the starting of False’s base, the start of the fantasy district. “HEY FALSE!” Grian called out to the building blond. He landed on top of her little mountain, grinning widely. He couldn’t even see Mumbo.

“Oh! Hey Grian what’s up?” False flew over to him.

“Oh I’m just beating Mumbo in a race. I’m waiting to see him before i bolt back.”

“You cheeky sod.” False laughed, and Grian joined in. “Oh I see him now!” False pointed out, and Grian just waved to Mumbo happily.

“See ya!” Grian laughed, taking off once more and blasting past Mumbo.

“You little bas-!” Grian didn’t hear the rest of Mumbo’s sentence, laughing hysterically has he flew onto Biffa’s mountain. He landed carefully.

Or tried too.

He screamed as he was flying far too fast, collide face first with the ground.

Grian experienced kinetic energy

Docm77: gg

MumboJumbo: hA

MumboJumbo: OHNO

MumboJumbo experienced kinetic energy

Grian respawned inside of his shipwreck, laughing wildly. He held his stomach and laughed until he fell out of bed.

Docm77: GG

Falsesymmetry: Omg i caught that on camera.

Grian clutched his stomach, his head thrown back in wild laughter. “Oh my god. That’s too perfect!” He stood up slowly, rushing over to Mumbo’s base. He swam up onto his platform and took off. He was still laughing by the time he got there, Mumbo standing frazzled by his bed. “Oh my god that was too funny.” Grian wheezed, landing on the little treehouse Mumbo had made. Mumbo just burst out laughing as he realized what exactly just happened.

“Oh my- Oh my god. That was perfect. I should’ve been recording!” Mumbo laughed, the two just sitting on the platform and taking deep breaths to calm themselves down. “Soo i totally won that.” Mumbo grinned, yelping as he was hit on the shoulder.

“No you did not! If we hadn’t died I totally would’ve won!” Grian protested. He stood up. “Come on lets go get our stuff back.” He took off quickly once more, never seeming too loose his energy. Mumbo smiled at the new hermit as he flew off, sighing softly. Just another day in the Hermitcraft world.

Grian landed on top of the mountain, quickly collecting his things as the sun went down. He pulled on his armor, held his sword in his hands and went back to his base after he messaged Mumbo that he’d be going to bed. He dived down into the ocean, using his wings to propel him underwater. His wings were sleek and rather small, nothing compared to people like TFC and Doc. His wings were built for speed and agility. He swam in through the neck of the bottle, popping out into his cramped base. He pulled a nametag out of one of his chests, and quickly took out a marker, writing ‘TAG’ in large and bold letters over it.

He pulled out his camera again, starting it up and going to record. He explained the rules of his new game, writing them down in a book as he did so. He was grinning like mad, a fire in his eyes he didn’t even know his soon to be chaos was fueling. Grian was giggling to himself as he wrote everything down, quickly flying out of his base and onto the little platform. He shook out his clothes and wings once more, taking flight and rushing over to Mumbo’s base. He looked onto his communicator, finding Mumbo’s gamertag and noticing he had went afk for a while. He groaned loudly, just for now hiding in a corner and watching the chickens that had suspiciously filled Mumbo’s base.

Grian ended up perching himself onto Mumbo’s enchantment station, one knee to his chest while his other leg dangled off the bookshelves. He kept throwing eggs everywhere, the occasional chicken spawning in. He hummed softly to himself, and was rather surprised that he had the patience to wait for Mumbo instead of just flying off to get someone else.

Docm77: Does anyone have a few books to spare? I only need l 3.

MumboJumbo: Oh yea! Just come into my base and snag them.

Grian pressed himself against the wall, hiding out of Mumbo’s sight just in case. He went to peak around the wall, only to find he was still afk!

Being afk was a sleeplike state that was induced after a few minutes of standing completely still. For some people it allowed them to retreat into a mind space, for others it was just like meditation. But it allowed mobs to spawn near a player, or for machines to continue working. It was bad edicate to do anything to people while they were afk.

Grian sighed, deciding to go for Doc instead, hiding next to Mumbo’s ladder and sitting there, waiting for the player hybrid to climb down the ladder into the place. He groaned loudly, walking over to Mumbo and poking at him.

“Mumbo jumbo you are afk.” He sang boredly, “I’m gonna take your mustache away-” He puffed out his cheeks as he got no response. God. He felt like a needy girlfriend. But he was so bored! You can’t blame him!

A loud squeak rang past his lips as he heard a accented voice complaining faintly, the sound hovering above him. He quickly rushed back to his spot, practically bouncing up and down as chickens walked around the whole place. He heard a loud explosion, before a death message popped up. Shit. Grian quickly climbed up the ladder of Mumbo’s base, quickly getting Doc’s scattered things and rushing to put them in a chest before everything despawned.

It was normal practice for him, as it had been mostly ingrained into his head that because of his speed he needed to help others with when they inevitably died. He sighed softly, making a sign and putting it on the chest, giving Doc directions to Mumbo’s base. He quickly slipped back into Mumbos base, and waited another ten or so minutes before he heard Doc’s grumbling as he climbed down the ladder. He pressed his wings into the wall behind him, seeing the creeper hybrid walking towards Mumbo. He rushed him quickly.

Grian reached out a fist, punching Doc in the shoulder, threw him both the tag and the book, before bolting back up the ladder. “I GOT YOU!” Grian yelled in victory, laughing hysterically as he quickly climbed. Doc didn’t even manage to get a word in before Grian left, but he started laughing as well, rubbing his shoulder.

“What the hell?” He asked, looking at the book that had been thrown at him. “A tag game hm? Interesting.” His voice drawled menacingly, and he looked over at Mumbo. He took the items he originally came for, and left. Hey, he might be an evil genius but he’ll play by the rules.

Grian landed on his platform, laughing hysterically. He let out a small sigh to calm himself down, fluttering his wings a bit to let out some pent up energy. He plopped down onto the cobblestone ground, looking up at the sky with a wide grin. So far he wasn't getting any typing in the chat from Doc. So he knew the other wasn’t angry at him for being hit.

He stretched out his wings, looking to them. His wings were small compared to Doc and TFC. But he was pretty damn confident he could out fly either of them. He hasn’t been able to talk to Stress much, but he’s pretty sure her wings are smaller than his. It really didn’t matter though. What did matter, was that they were a group of people, all who had been deemed out-casts by others, or felt as such. And they found a home with one another. He found a home with them. And frankly, he kind of didn’t want to go back.

#Hermitcraft #Take Flight au #Winged au #Avian #Grian #Hermitcraft Grian #Mumbo #Mumbo Jumbo #Shenanigans #Fluff #Tag #Grian and Mumbo have on braincell and its Iskall's

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pamphletstoinspire · 3 years

Photo

Ash Wednesday - February 17, 2021

Lent (the word “Lent” comes from the Old English “lencten,” meaning “springtime) lasts from Ash Wednesday to the Vespers of Holy Saturday — forty days + six Sundays which don’t count as “Lent” liturgically. The Latin name for Lent, Quadragesima, means forty and refers to the forty days Christ spent in the desert which is the origin of the Season.The last two weeks of Lent are known as “Passiontide,” made up of Passion Week and Holy Week. The last three days of Holy Week — Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday — are known as the “Sacred Triduum.”

The focus of this Season is the Cross and penance, penance, penance as we imitate Christ’s forty days of fasting, like Moses and Elias before Him, and await the triumph of Easter. We fast (see below), abstain, mortify the flesh, give alms, and think more of charitable works. Awakening each morning with the thought, “How might I make amends for my sins? How can I serve God in a reparative way? How can I serve others today?” is the attitude to have.

We meditate on “The Four Last Things”: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell, and we also practice mortifications by “giving up something” that would be a sacrifice to do without. The sacrifice could be anything from desserts to television to the marital embrace, and it can entail, too, taking on something unpleasant that we’d normally avoid, for example, going out of one’s way to do another’s chores, performing “random acts of kindness,” etc. A practice that might help some, especially small children, to think sacrificially is to make use of “Sacrifice Beads” in the same way that St. Thérèse of Lisieux did as a child.

Because of the focus on penance and reparation, it is traditional to make sure we go to Confession at least once during this Season to fulfill the precept of the Church that we go to Confession at least once a year, and receive the Eucharist at least once a year during Eastertide. A beautiful old custom associated with Lenten Confession is to, before going to see the priest, bow before each member of your household and to any you’ve sinned against, and say, “In the Name of Christ, forgive me if I’ve offended you.” One responds with “God will forgive you.” Done with an extensive examination of conscience and a sincere heart, this practice can be quite healing (also note that confessing sins to a priest is a Sacrament which remits mortal and venial sins; confessing sins to those you’ve offended is a sacramental which, like all sacramentals one piously takes advantage of, remits venial sins. Both are quite good for the soul!)

In addition to mortification and charity, seeing and living Lent as a forty day spiritual retreat is a good thing to do. Spiritual reading should be engaged in (over and above one’s regular Lectio Divina). Maria von Trapp recommended “the Book of Jeremias and the works of Saints, such as The Ascent of Mount Carmel, by St. John of the Cross; The Introduction to a Devout Life, by St. Francis de Sales; The Story of a Soul, by St. Thérèse of Lisieux; The Spiritual Castle, by St. Teresa of Avila; the Soul of the Apostolate, by Abbot Chautard; the books of Abbot Marmion, and similar works.”

As to prayer, praying the beautiful Seven Penitential Psalms (Psalms 6, 31, 37, 50, 101, 129, and 142) is a traditional practice. It is most traditional to pray all of these each day of Lent, but if time is an issue, you can pray them all on just the Fridays of Lent, or, because there are seven of them, and seven Fridays in Lent, you might want to consider praying one on each Friday. These Psalms, which include the Psalms “Miserére” and “De Profundis,” are perfect expressions of contrition and prayers for mercy. So apt are these Psalms at expressing contrition that, as he lay dying in A.D. 430, St. Augustine asked that a monk write them in large letters near his bed so he could easily read them.

Another great prayer for this season is that of St. Ephraem, Doctor of the Church (d. 373). This prayer is often prayed with a prostration after each stanza:

O Lord and Master of my life,

take from me the spirit of sloth, despondency, lust of power, and idle talk;

But grant rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to thy servant.

Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own transgressions,

and not to judge my brother; for blessed art Thou unto the ages of ages.

In the East, this prayer is prayed liturgically during Lent and is followed by “O God, cleanse me a sinner” prayed twelve times, with a bow following each, and one last prostration.

Also, on all Fridays during Lent, one may gain a plenary indulgence, under the usual conditions, by reciting the En ego, O bone et dulcissime Iesu (Prayer Before a Crucifix) before an image of Christ crucified.

Food in Lent

According to the 1983 Code of Canon Law, the rule for the universal Church during Lent is abstain on all Fridays (inside or outside of Lent) and to both fast and abstain on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.

Some traditional Catholics might follow the older pattern of fasting and abstinence during this time, which for the universal Church required:

Ash Wednesday, all Fridays, and all Saturdays: fasting and total abstinence. This means 3 meatless meals — with the two smaller meals not equalling in size the main meal of the day — and no snacking.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays (except Ash Wednesday), and Thursdays: fasting and partial abstinence from meat. This means three meals — with the two smaller meals not equalling in size the main meal of the day — and no snacking, but meat can be eaten at the principle meal.

On those days of fasting and abstinence, meatless soup is traditional. Sundays, of course, are always free of fasting and abstinence; even in the heart of Lent, Sundays are about the glorious Resurrection. This pattern of fasting and abstinence ends after the Vigil Mass of Holy Saturday.

As to special Lenten foods, vegetables, seafoods, salads, pastas, and beans mark the Season, in addition to the meatless soups. The fasting of this time once even precluded the eating of eggs and fats, so the chewy pretzel became the bread and symbol of the times. They’d always been a Christian food, ever since Roman times, their very shape being the creation of monks. The three holes represent the Holy Trinity, and the twists of the dough represent the arms of someone praying. In fact, the word “pretzel” is a German word deriving ultimately from the Latin “bracellae,” meaning “little arms” (the Vatican has the oldest known representation of a pretzel, found on a 5th c. manuscript). Below is a recipe for the large, soft, chewy pretzels that go so well with beer.

by St. Thomas Aquinas Ash Wednesday : Death

By one man sin entered into this world, and by sin death.–Rom. v. 12.

1. If for some wrongdoing a man is deprived of some benefit once given to him, that he should lack that benefit is the punishment of his sin.

Now in man’s first creation he was divinely endowed with this advantage that, so long as his mind remained subject to God, the lower powers of his soul were subjected to the reason and the body was subjected to the soul.

But because by sin man’s mind moved away from its subjection to God, it followed that the lower parts of his mind ceased to be wholly subjected to the reason. From this there followed such a rebellion of the bodily inclination against the reason, that the body was no longer wholly subject to the soul.

Whence followed death and all the bodily defects. For life and wholeness of body are bound up with this, that the body is wholly subject to the soul, as a thing which can be made perfect is subject to that which makes it perfect. So it comes about that, conversely, there are such things as death, sickness and every other bodily defect, for such misfortunes are bound up with an incomplete subjection of body to soul.

2. The rational soul is of its nature immortal, and therefore death is not natural to man in so far as man has a soul. It is natural to his body, for the body, since it is formed of things contrary to each other in nature, is necessarily liable to corruption, and it is in this respect that death is natural to man.

But God who fashioned man is all powerful. And hence, by an advantage conferred on the first man, He took away that necessity of dying which was bound up with the matter of which man was made. This advantage was however withdrawn through the sin of our first parents.

Death is then natural, if we consider the matter of which man is made and it is a penalty, inasmuch as it happens through the loss of the privilege whereby man was preserved from dying.

3. Sin–original sin and actual sin–is taken away by Christ, that is to say, by Him who is also the remover of all bodily defects. He shall quicken also your mortal bodies, because of His Spirit that dwelleth in you (Rom. viii. II).

But, according to the order appointed by a wisdom that is divine, it is at the time which best suits that Christ takes away both the one and the other, i.e., both sin and bodily defects.

Now it is only right that, before we arrive at that glory of impassibility and immortality which began in Christ, and which was acquired for us through Christ, we should be shaped after the pattern of Christ’s sufferings. It is then only right that Christ’s liability to suffer should remain in us too for a time, as a means of our coming to the impassibility of glory in the way He himself came to it. (6)

by Abbot Gueranger Ash Wednesday

Yesterday the world was busy in its pleasures, and the very children of God were taking a joyous farewell to mirth: but this morning, all is changed. The solemn announcement, spoken of by the prophet, has been proclaimed in Sion: the solemn fast of Lent, the season of expiation, the approach of the great anniversaries of our Redemption. Let us then rouse ourselves, and prepare for the spiritual combat.

But in this battling of the spirit against the flesh we need good armor. Our Holy Mother the Church knows how much we need it; and therefore does She summon us to enter into the house of God, that She may arm us for the holy contest. What this armor is we know from St. Paul, who thus describes it: “Have your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of justice. And your feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of peace. In all things, taking the shield of Faith. Take unto you the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God” (Eph. 6: 14-17). The very Prince of the Apostles, too, addresses these solemn words to us: “Christ having suffered in the flesh, be ye also armed with the same thought” (1 Peter 4: 1). We are entering today upon a long campaign of the warfare spoken of by the Apostles: forty days of battle, forty days of penance. We shall not turn cowards, if our souls can but be impressed with the conviction, that the battle and the penance must be gone through. Let us listen to the eloquence of the solemn rite which opens our Lent. Let us go whither our Mother leads us, that is, to the scene of the fall.

The enemies we have to fight with, are of two kinds: internal and external. The first are our passions; the second are the devils. Both were brought on us by pride, and man’s pride began when he refused to obey his God. God forgave him his sin, but He punished him. The punishment was death, and this was the form of the divine sentence: “For dust thou art, and into dust thou shalt return” (Gen. 3: 19). Oh that we had remembered this! The recollection of what we are and what we are to be, would have checked that haughty rebellion, which has so often led us to break the law of God. And if, for the time to come, we would persevere in loyalty to Him, we must humble ourselves, accept the sentence, and look on this present life as a path to the grave. The path may be long or short; but to the tomb it must lead us. Remembering this, we shall see all things in their true light. We shall love that God, Who has deigned to set His Heart on us, notwithstanding our being creatures of death: we shall hate, with deepest contrition, the insolence and ingratitude, wherewith we have spent so many of our few days of life, that is, in sinning against our Heavenly Father: and we shall be not only willing, but eager, to go through these days of penance, which He so mercifully gives us for making reparation to His offended justice.

This was the motive the Church had in enriching Her liturgy with the solemn rite, at which we are to assist today. When centuries ago She decreed the anticipation of the Lenten fast by the last four days of Quinquagesima week, She instituted this impressive ceremony of signing the foreheads of Her children with ashes, while saying to them those awful words, wherewith God sentenced us to death: “Remember man that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return!” But the making use of ashes as a symbol of humiliation and penance, is of a much earlier date than the institution to which we allude. We find frequent mention of it in the Old Testament. Job, though a Gentile, sprinkled his flesh with ashes, that thus humbled, he might propitiate the Divine mercy (Job 16: 16): and this was 2,000 years before the coming of the Savior. The royal prophet tells us of himself, that he mingled ashes with his bread, because of the Divine anger and indignation (Ps. 101: 10, 11). Many such examples are to be met with in the sacred Scriptures; but so obvious is the analogy between the sinner who thus signifies his grief, and the object whereby he signifies it, that we read such instances without surprise. When fallen man would humble himself before the Divine justice, which has sentenced his body to return to dust, how could he more aptly express his contrite acceptance of the sentence, than by sprinkling himself, or his food, with ashes, which is the dust of wood consumed by fire? This earnest acknowledgment of his being himself but dust and ashes, is an act of humility, and humility ever gives him confidence in that God, Who resists the proud and pardons the humble.

It is probable that, when this ceremony of the Wednesday after Quinquagesima was first instituted, it was not intended for all the faithful, but only for such as had committed any of those crimes for which the Church inflicted a public penance. Before the Mass of the day began, they presented themselves at the church, where the people were all assembled. The priests received the confession of their sins, and then clothed them in sackcloth, and sprinkled ashes on their heads. After this ceremony, the clergy and the faithful prostrated, and recited aloud the Seven Penitential Psalms. A procession, in which the penitents walked barefoot, then followed; and on its return, the bishop addressed these words to the penitents: “Behold, we drive you from the doors of the church by reason of your sins and crimes, as Adam, the first man, was driven out of paradise because of his transgression.” The clergy then sang several responsories, taken from the Book of Genesis, in which mention was made of the sentence pronounced by God when He condemned man to eat his bread in the sweat of his brow, for that the earth was cursed on account of sin. The doors were then shut, and the penitents were not to pass the threshold until Holy Thursday, when they were to come and receive absolution.

Dating from the 11th century, the discipline of public penance began to fall into disuse, and the holy rite of putting ashes on the heads of all the faithful indiscriminately became so general that, at length, it was considered as forming an essential part of the Roman Liturgy. Formerly, it was the practice to approach bare-footed to receive this solemn memento of our nothingness; and in the 12th century, even the Pope himself, when passing from the church of St. Anastasia to that of St. Sabina, at which the station was held, went the whole distance bare-footed, as also did the Cardinals who accompanied him. The Church no longer requires this exterior penance; but She is as anxious as ever that the holy ceremony, at which we are about to assist, should produce in us the sentiments She intended to convey by it, when She first instituted it.

As we have just mentioned, the station in Rome is at St. Sabina, on the Aventine Hill. It is under the patronage of this holy Martyr that we open the penitential season of Lent. The liturgy begins with the Blessing of the Ashes, which are to be put on our foreheads. These ashes are made from the palms, which were blessed the previous Palm Sunday. The blessing they are now to receive in this their new form, is given in order that they may be made more worthy of that mystery of contrition and humility which they are intended to symbolize.

When the priest puts the holy emblem of penance upon you, accept in a spirit of submission, the sentence of death, which God Himself pronounces against you: “Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return!” Humble yourself, and remember what it was (pride) that brought the punishment of death upon us: man wished to be as a god, and preferred his own will to that of his Sovereign Master.

Reflect, too, on that long list of sins, which you have added to the sin of your first parents, and adore the mercy of your God, Who asks only one death for all these your transgressions.

“When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites” (Matt. 6: 16). In the Gospel of the Mass, we learn that our Redeemer would not have us receive the announcement of the great fast as one of sadness and melancholy. The Christian who understands what a dangerous thing it is to be a debtor to Divine justice, welcomes the season of Lent with joy; it consoles him. He knows that if he be faithful in observing what the Church prescribes, his debt will be less heavy upon him. These penances, these satisfactions (which the indulgence of the Church has rendered so easy), being offered to God united with those of our Savior Himself, and being rendered fruitful by that holy fellowship which blends into one common propitiatory sacrifice the good works of all the members of the Church militant, will purify our souls, and make them worthy to partake in the grand Easter joy. Let us not, then, be sad because we are to fast; let us be sad only because we have sinned and made fasting a necessity. In this same Gospel, our Redeemer gives us a second counsel, which the Church will often bring before us during the whole course of Lent: it is that of joining almsdeeds with our fasting. He bids us to lay up treasures in Heaven. For this we need intercessors; let us seek them amidst the poor.

Every day during Lent, Sundays and feasts excepted, the priest before dismissing the faithful, adds after the Postcommunion a special prayer, which is preceded by these words of admonition: “Let us pray. Bow down your heads to God.” On this day he continues: “Mercifully look down upon us, O Lord, bowing down before Thy Divine Majesty, that they who have been refreshed with Thy Divine Mysteries, may always be supported by Thy heavenly aid. Through Our Lord Jesus Christ… Amen.” (9)

by Rev. James Luke Meagher, 1883

The fast of Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and lasts till Easter Sunday. During this time there are forty-six days, but as we do not fast on the six Sundays falling in this time, the fast lasts for forty days. For that reason it is called the forty days of Lent. In the Latin language of the Church it is called the Quadragesima, that is, forty. St. Peter, the first Pope, instituted the forty days of Lent. During the forty-six days from Ash Wednesday to Easter, we are to spend the time in fasting and in penance for our sins, building up the temple of the Lord within our hearts, after having come forth from the Babylon of this world by the rites and the services of the Septuagesima season. And as of old we read that the Jews, after having been delivered from their captivity in Babylon, spent forty-six years in building their temple in place of the grand edifice raised by Solomon and destroyed by the Babylonians, thus must we rebuild the temple of the Holy Ghost, built by God at the moment of our baptism, but destroyed by the sins of the past year. Again in the Old Testament the tenth part of all the substance of the Jews was given to the Lord (Exod. xxli. 29). Thus we must give him the tenth part of our time while on this earth. For forty days we fast, but taking out the Sundays of Lent, when there is no fast, it leaves thirty-six days, nearly the tenth part of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. According to Pope Gregory from the first Sunday of Lent to Easter, there are six weeks, making forty-two days, and when we take from Lent the six Sundays during which we do not fast, we have left thirty-six days, about the tenth part of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.

The forty days of fasting comes down to us from the Old Testament, for we read that Moses fasted forty days on the mount (Exod. xxiv. et xxxiv. 28). We are told that Elias fasted for forty days (III. Kings xix. 8), and again we see that our Lord fasted forty days in the desert (Math. iv.; Luke ix). We are to follow the example of these great men of the old law. But in order to make up the full fast of forty days of Moses, of Elias and of our Lord, Pope Gregory commanded the fast of Lent to begin on Ash Wednesday before the first Sunday of the Lenten season.

Christ began his fast of forty days after his baptism in the Jordan, on Epiphany, the twelfth of January, when he went forth into the desert. But we do not begin the Lent after Epiphany, because there are other feasts and seasons in which to celebrate the mysteries of the childhood of our Lord before we come to his fasting, and because during these forty days of Lent we celebrate the forty years of the Jews in the desert, who, when their wanderings were ended, they celebrated their Easter, while we hold ours after the days of Lent are finished. Again, during Lent, we celebrate the passion of our Lord, and as after His passion came His resurrection, thus we celebrate the glories of His resurrection at Easter.

During the services of Lent we read so often the words: “Humble your heads before the Lord,” and “let us bend our knees,” because it is the time when we should humble ourselves before God and bend our knees in prayers. After the words, “Let us bend our knees,” comes the word, “Arise.” These words are never said on Sunday, but only on week days, for Sunday is dedicated to the resurrection of our Lord. Pope Gregory says: “Who bends the knee on Sunday denies God to have risen.” We bend our knees and prostrate ourselves to the earth in prayer, to show the weakness of our bodies, which are made of earth; to show the weakness of our minds and imagination, which we cannot control; to show our shame for sin, for we cannot lift our eyes to heaven; to follow the example of our Lord, who came down from heaven and prostrated himself on the ground in the garden when in prayer (Matt. xxvi. 39); to show that we were driven from Paradise and that we are prone towards earthly things; to show that we follow the example of our father in the faith, Abraham, who, falling upon the earth, adored the Lord (Gen. xviii. 2). This was the custom from the beginning of the Christian Church, as Origen says: “The holy prophets when they were surrounded with trials fell upon their faces, that their sins might be purged by the affliction of their bodies.” Thus following the words of St. Paul: “I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (Ephes. iii. 14),” we prostrate ourselves and bend our knees in prayer. From Ash Wednesday to Passion Sunday the Preface of Lent is said every day, unless there comes a feast with a Preface of its own. That custom was in vogue as far back as the twelfth century.

At other times of the year, the clergy say the Office of Vespers after noon, but an ancient Council allowed Vespers to be commenced after Mass. This is when the Office is said altogether by the clergy in the choir. The same may be done by each clergyman when reciting privately his Office. This cannot be done on the Sundays of Lent, as they are not fasting days. The “Go, the dismissal is at hand,” is not said, but in its place, “Let us bless the Lord,” for, from the earliest times the clergy and the people remained in the church to sing the Vesper Office and to pray during this time of fasting and of penance.

We begin the fast of Lent on Wednesday, for the most ancient traditions of the Church tell us that while our Lord was born on Sunday, he was baptized on Tuesday, and began his fast in the desert on Wednesday. Again, Solomon began the building of his great temple on Wednesday, and we are to prepare our bodies by fasting, to become the temples of the Holy Ghost, as the Apostle says, “Know you not that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you (I. Cor. iii. 16)?” To begin well the Lent, one of the old Councils directed all the people with the clergy to come to the church on Ash Wednesday to assist at the Mass and the Vesper Offices and to give help to the poor, then they were allowed to go and break their fast.

The name Ash Wednesday comes from the ceremony of putting ashes on the heads of the clergy and the people on this day. Let us understand the meaning of this rite. When man sinned by eating in the garden the forbidden fruit, God drove him from Paradise with the words: “For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return (Gen. iii. 19).” Before his sin, Adam was not to die, but to be carried into heaven after a certain time of trial here upon this earth. But he sinned, and by that sin he brought upon himself and us, his children, death. Our bodies, then, are to return to the dust from which God made them, to which they are condemned by the sin of Adam. What wisdom the Church shows us when she invites us by these ceremonies to bring before our minds the dust and the corruption of the grave by putting ashes on our heads. We see the great men of old doing penance in sackcloth and ashes. Job did penance in dust and ashes (Job ii. 12). By the mouth of His prophet the Lord commanded the Jews “in the house of the dust sprinkle yourselves with dust (Mich. i. 10).” Abraham said, “I will speak to the Lord, for I am dust and ashes (Gen xviii. 27).” Joshua and all the ancients of Israel fell on their faces before the Lord and put dust upon their heads (Joshua vii. 6). When the ark of the covenant was taken by the Philistines, the soldier came to tell the sad story with his head covered with dust (I Kings iv. 12).

When Job’s three friends came and found him in such affliction, “they sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven (Job ii. 12).” “The sorrows of the daughters of Israel are seen in the dust upon their heads (Lam. ii. 10).” Daniel said his prayers to the Lord his God in fasting, sackcloth and ashes (Dan. ix. 3). Our Lord tells us that if in Tyre and Sidon had been done the miracles seen in Judea, that they had long ago done penance in sackcloth and ashes (Matt. xi. 21; Luke x. 13). When the great city will be destroyed, its people will cry out with grief, putting dust upon their heads (Apoc. xviii. 19). From these parts of the Bible, the reader will see that dust and ashes were used by the people of old as a sign of deep sorrow for sin, and that when they fasted they covered their heads with ashes. From them the Church copied these ceremonies which have come down to us. And on this day, when we begin our fast, we put ashes on our heads with the words, “Remember, man, that thou art dust, and into dust thou shalt return (Gen. iii. 19).”

In the beginning of the Church the ceremony of putting the ashes on the heads of the people was only for those who were guilty of sin, and who were to spend the season of Lent in public penance. Before Mass they came to the church, confessed their sins, and received from the hands of the clergy the ashes on their heads. Then the clergy and all the people prostrated themselves upon the earth and there recited the seven penitential psalms. Rising, they formed into a procession with the penitents walking barefooted. When they came back the penitents were sent out of the church by the bishop, saying : “We drive you from the bosom of the Church on account of your sins and for your crimes, as Adam, the first man was driven from Paradise because of his sin.” While the clergy were singing those parts of Genesis, where we read that God condemned our first parents to be driven from the garden and condemned to earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, the porters fastened the doors of the church on the penitents, who were not allowed to enter the temple of the Lord again till they finished their penance and came to be absolved on Holy Thursday (Gueranger, Le Temps de la Septuagesima, p. 242). After the eleventh century public penance began to be laid aside, but the custom of putting ashes on the heads of the clergy became more and more common, till at length it became part of the Latin Rite. Formerly they used to come up to the altar railing in their bare feet to receive the ashes, and that solemn notice of their death and of the nothingness of man. In the twelfth century the Pope and all his court came to the Church of St. Sabina, in Rome, walking all the way in his bare feet, from whence the title of the Mass said on Ash Wednesday is the Station at St. Sabina.

#ash wednesday

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lesbianaglaya · 4 years

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Please elaborate on that The Idiot essay

Okay anon, ask and ye shall receive. Here is my manifesto on why I love The Idiot (1868-1869). Homoeroticism and me crying over Bakhtin under the cut.

Okay from here on out let me just warn you that there will be discussion of epilepsy, sexual abuse, violence against women, murder, and suicide. I never claimed it wasn’t a messed up story.

Let me start off by saying, this is not a good novel. It was written as a desperate cash grab by Dostoevsky after he and his wife Anna had had to move to Switzerland for financial reasons (they were rather continually in debt due to Dostoevsky’s gambling problem. In fact, they’d met when Fyodor hired Anna as a stenographer to help him write down The Gambler, the completion of which he’d bet all his rights to his published works on). The four separate parts are only loosely linked by narrative threads, things don’t follow the course you would expect from a work of literature, and the protagonist of the novel’s literal schtick is that he was supposed to be “a perfectly beautiful man”. Which, yeah, great in theory but in reality people don’t want perfect protagonists. The morals of the novel tend towards Dostoevsky’s own often troubling views of religion and morality, and it is a distinctly 19th century work.

And yet, it’s still one of my favourite things I’ve ever read. Not only are there some truly insane homoerotic moments in here, but there are some brilliant moments of play with narrative voice, society novel-esque shenanigans, questions about the nature of goodness and what that really means, and, of course, one really hot moment where a woman slaps a guy who’s being a dick in the face with a riding crop.

The loose plot of the novel is that Prince Lev Nikolaevich Myshkin, the eponymous idiot (and a holy fool, or as Dostoevsky once described him, “Prince Christ”), is returning to Russia from a period of many years in Switzerland being treated for epilepsy. On the train into Petersburg he meets Rogozhin, a young man who has just inherited an enormous fortune after the death of his father. They begin talking, and Rogozhin confides in Myshkin about his love for (read: obsession with) a girl known as Nastasya Filipovna. (This seems weird doesn’t it? Just confessing your major life problems to this weird guy sitting next to you on the train? Yea that’s just what people do around Myshkin). Upon arriving in Petersburg, Myshkin goes to meet with his distant relations, the Epanchins, to get to know them and form a family connection. The rest of the novel is these characters cycling through various love (?) plots, more random inheritances, people dying of consumption, going to stay in the country for a while Just Because, and other stereotypical 19th century novel things.

What makes it unique is that each character is their own person with their own thoughts, experiences and world views and the novel is these views interacting and clashing, or as Bakhtin puts it “a plurality of consciousness, with equal rights and each with its own world”. The characters are not there to help prove any thesis or idea; instead the thesis of the novel is how these characters differing views interact with each other. Myshkin is the lens of this, making it a picture of how each different character (or world view) reacts to his inherent goodness.

Of course, that’s all very... meta. Fun to discuss, but it doesn’t necessarily make the book fun to read. That’s where Nastasya Filipovna comes in.

Nastasya Filipovna, the girl that Rogoshin is “in love with” is a young woman who was born to nobility but orphaned and then sexually abused and turned into a concubine by her guardian Totsky. At the beginning of the novel she has escaped the control of Totsky and is in the incredibly tenuous situation of being provided an income from him for not completely destroying his reputation. A marriage has been arranged by Totsky (so that he won't have to worry about her any more) between her and this one asshole Ganya, but she has not agreed to it yet and has said she will announce her decision at her name day party.

At said name day party is where things get Crazy. She goes ham, mocking Ganya (who she knows hates her) for selling himself for the money promised in marrying her, verbally torturing Totsky, and generally saying fuck you to everyone while also tossing in a good amount of self hatred. Myshkin (whom she invited after meeting him once earlier that day for like five seconds seriously just role with it) declares quite earnestly that he thinks she is a good person and if she likes he’ll marry her amd also that he just inherited a fuck ton of money. Nastya is taken aback, and agrees to marry Myshkin. Then Rogozhin shows up (drunk, with the lads) and we find out Nastya has been planning all this. She tells Myshkin that she can’t actually marry him because he’s too innocent and she believes herself to be awful, and then asks Rogozhin for the money he promised her. Rogozhin hands over 100,000 rubles and Nastasya proceeds to toss them in the fire, tell Ganya that they’re his if he’ll reach in to get them out, and then leaves her own party with Rogozhin!!! I said this novel was batshit!!!!

Nastya through out the novel continues to be The Best Character, writing homoerotic letters to Aglaya Epanchina, who I FIRMLY choose to see as a lesbian, smoking cigars, and of course, upon hearing a man say of her “Here you simply need a whip, there’s no other way with this creature”, in return “she rushed to a young man completely unknown to her who was standing two steps away and holding a thin, braided riding crop, tore it out of his hand, and struck the offender accross the face as hard as she could”. Iconique. Of course, her story ends tragically but we’ll get into that later.

To quickly touch on Aglaya Epanchina, because I love her, she is one of the daughters of the Epanchin family, she and Myshkin almost get married, and she ends the novel by running off with a foreigner and becoming (horrified whisper) Catholic. Anyway she and Nastya have a brief but horribly gay dicourse where Nastya confesses her love (platonic of course. That is definitely how I, a lesbian, read this) for Aglaya and Aglaya refuses to believe her. Aglaya says she wants to marry Myshkin specifically because then she wouldn’t have to be a wife and a mother and could pursue what she wants and continue to learn. Also at one point Aglaya adopts a hedgehog. That’s Lesbianism Baybee. Her ending is supposed to be tragic but I choose to believe that her marriage is a lavender marriage and she and her gay husband are having wild fun around Europe. Let me have this.

Now for what you’ve all been waiting for — more homoeroticism.

Myshkin and Rogoshin’s dynamic is, like, fully insane. After their first meeting on the train, Rogozhin says to Myshkin “Prince, I don’t know why I’ve come to love you. . . . Come and see me, Prince. We’ll take those wretched gaiters off you; I’ll dress you in a top-notch marten coat; I’ll have the best of tailcoats made for you, a white waistcoat, or whatever you like; I’ll stuff your pockets with money”. Slow down lover boy you met this man five minutes ago and you’re already trying to sugar daddy him?? It only gets worse from here.

Part II of the novel picks up six months after the name day party. Rogozhin and Myshkin have in the intervening time “often happened to spend long hours together, and there had even been several moments during their meetings that had left an all too memorable imprint upon their hearts”. Yeah. It’s also said that Rogozhin is jealous of Myshkin maybe holding some of Nastya’s affection but like. It just reads a lot like Rogozhin is torn between Nastya and Myshkin, which he is in a way because being in love with friends with Myshkin and Nastya (lavender) marrying Myshkin (that’s not an exaggeration it’s basically out right stated that if Myshkin and Nastya married they would not have sex), would mean giving up the weird destructive obsession he and Nastya have with each other. This is supposed to imply coming to Jesus. I take it as accepting your homosexuality because Dostoevsky is dead and I can do what I want.

So Myshkin shows up at Rogozhin’s house and things are a bit awkward (Rogozhin has maybe been stalking Myshkin??) His “affectionate” smile is described “as if something had been broken, and try as he might, he was unable to glue it back together.” Anyway.

They begin actually talking and oh boy. I’ll just present these without comment.

“I’ve come to bring you peace, because you, too, are dear to me. I love you very much Parfyon. And now I’ll go and never come again. Farewell.” “‘Stay with me a little’ Parfyon said quietly, without getting up from his place and leaning his head on his right hand, ‘I haven’t seen you in a very long time.’”

“When you’re not in front of me, I feel spite for you Lev Nikolaevich. . . . Now you haven’t sat with me a quarter of an hour and all my spite is gone, and I love you like before. Stay with me a little . . .’”

“Nobody’s asking our opinion. It got decided without us. And we love differently too.”

“I didn’t want to come here! I wanted to forget everything here, tear it out of my heart!”

Not to mention the jealousy Rogozhin has for the perceived relationship between Myshkin and Nastya. Hmmmm. Anyway after all That, Rogozhin insists that he and Myshkin trade crosses, his golden one for Myshkin’s tin one.

And THEN Rogozhin proceeds to stop Myshkin from leaving again, and takes him to get his mother’s blessing, which is the same thing he did with Nastasya!!!!!! I feel insane.

After this Myshkin returns to his hotel but then Rogozhin follows him and um. Tries to stab him. With the knife that’s been built up as a phallic symbol through the whole novel. But then Myshkin falls into an epileptic fit and Rogozhin flees. Like this is deeply fucked up but What The Hell am I supposed to be thinking rn??

Anyway the next time they meet it’s in the countryside and Myshkin has fully forgiven him for the murder attempt. Indeed “struck by Rogozhin’s sudden appearance, the prince was unable to collect his thoughts for sometime, and a painful sensation rose again in his heart.”

Rogoshin has apparently not forgiven himself for trying to kill Myshkin, to which Myshkin responds “all that you went through that day I now know as well as I know my own self. What you were imagining did not and could not exist.” *jenny slate scream*

Myshkin proceeds to invite Rogozhin home with him, saying “I have some wine, we’ll drink wine, you must wish me something I myself don’t know how to wish for now, and it’s precisely you who must wish it, and I’ll wish you your fullest happiness. Or else give me back my cross! You didn’t even send it back to me the next day! You’re wearing it? Wearing it even now?” and THEN he says “I don’t want to meet my new life without you because my new life has begun! Don’t you know that my new life begins today?” and then they head home together.

Okay skipping over a bunch of stuff because 1) I havent read the novel in a year and while i know there’s more stuff in there I don’t know exactly where and I don’t want to be flipping pages for another hour and 2) this is already insanely long so. For context in the intervening time Rogozhin and Nastya do end up getting married (which everyone including the two of them kind of agree that it’s just a way for them both to kill each other/basically comit suicide. Fun!). So that’s exactly what happens, and Myshkin runs to their house, arriving too late and finding that Rogozhin has stabbed Nastya and she is dead. Thus ensues a scene that makes me so insane I cant... look here just take this:

“‘So let her lie here now, next to us, next to me and you...’

‘Yes, yes!’ the prince agreed warmly.”

And

“‘I’ll make up the bed and you can lie down... and I’ll lie down with you... and we’ll listen... because I don’t know yet man... I don’t know everything yet, man, so I’m telling you about it ahead of time, so you’ll know all about it ahead of time...’”

And

“But two people could not lie on the sofa, and he absolutely wanted to make up beds now side by side, and that way why, with great effort, he now dragged pillows of various sizesfrom both sofas all the way across the room, right up to the opening in the curtain. The bed got made up anyhow; he went over to the prince, took him tenderly and rapturously by the arm, got him to his feet, and led him to the bed”

And

“[Rogozhin was] laying the prince down on the left, better, pillows, himself on the right”

And

“‘What did you use? A knife? That same one?’

‘That same one’”

And

“The prince would reach out his trembling hand to him and quietly touch his head, his hair, stroke it and stroke his cheeks... there was nothing more he could do! . . . and pressed his face to the pale and motionless face of Rogozhin; tears flowed from his eyes onto Rogozhin’s cheeks”

And

“He quietly hastened to pass his trembling hand over his hair and cheeks, as if caressing and soothing him”

And then the cops show up and there’s a brief epilogue talking about how everything is terrible now and Myshkin goes back to Switzerland because he’s incoherent with grief. Insane.

So there’s also a lot in this novel about what is actually good, and how people react when confronted with goodness, etc. etc. but this is five pages in google docs and I need to. Stop. Anyway if you made it to the end cheers this novel is awful and insane and I love it. Dostoevsky do not interact I hate your crusty ass even if your prose makes me feel things.

#gabby.txt #mail #anon #the idiot #anyway sorry this took so long but ah. yeah.#i have a lot of Thoughts #literature #Anonymous

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why-bless-your-heart · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: The Two Poets of Saffron Park

The dedication to Edmund Clerihew Bentley begins “A cloud was on the mind of men/And wailing went the weather, Yea, a sick cloud upon the soul/When we were boys together.” Chesterton was 34 at the time of publication, 7 years married.

The dedication adds an incredibly personal note to the book. In the first stanza he describes the crisis of intellectual and philosophical fashions at the time, and the stance against them that he and E. C. B. took. In the second stanza he recalls the help that they found together in books and writers they loved, and in the final stanza he says that “This is a tale of those old fears, Even of those emptied hells/And none but you shall understand/The true thing that it tells.”

Chesterton is often described as prophetic, but I believe the phenomenon is related more to the depths of the truth he struck. I wonder if he expected The Man Who Was Thursday to be a lifeline for so many young people as John Bunyan was for him and his friend.

“The suburb of Saffron park lay on the sunset side of London, as red and ragged as a cloud of sunset.” Just as the dedication began with cloud imagery, so too does the book.

Saffron Park’s description marks it as a renamed Bedford Park, where G. K. C. met his future wife, Frances Blogg.

“That young man with the long, Auburn hair and the impudent face — that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem. That old gentleman with the wild, white beard and the wild, white hat — that venerable humbug was not really a philosopher; but at least he was the cause of philosophy in others. That scientific gentleman with the bald, egg-like head and the bare, bird-like neck had no real right to the airs of science that he assumed. He had not discover anything new in biology; but what biological creature could he have discovered more singular than himself?” These Saffron Park inhabitants seem to represent poetry, philosophy, and science respectively. Three different ways of looking at and trying to understand reality.

The action of the story begins in a garden. The Eden parallel is obvious.

Lucian Gregory seems to have been modeled, at least in name, off of Chesterton’s close friend Lucian Oldershaw, the man who introduced Chesterton to Frances. I am not familiar with Oldershaw’s views on anarchy, but I suspect that he did not share much on that front with his fictional counterpart. I also could not find any pictures of the man, but I suspect that the description of “a walking blasphemy, a blend of the angel and the ape,” is similarly a mild injustice.

“Blend of the angel and the ape” immediately brings to mind the nature of man.

Chesterton’s description of the “strange sunset” that “looked like the end of the world” says that in the west “the whole grew past description, transparent and passionate, and the last red-hot plumes of it covered up the sun like something too good to be seen. The whole was so close about the earth as to express nothing but a violent secrecy.” I find this imagery vaguely marital.

Syme is described as having a “fair, pointed beard and faint, yellow hair.” Another of Chesterton’s blond heroes is Innocent Smith, from Manalive. Someday I should try to classify all of Chesterton’s characters by hair color and work out what exactly the symbolism is.

Rosamond “had her brother’s braids of red hair, but a kindlier face underneath them”. Later she is described as having “level brows,” and a face that is “grave and open.” Pictured below is a colorized photograph of Frances Chesterton as a young woman.

Awwwwwww

The verbal sparring of Lucian and Gabriel (Again, the Lucifer and Gabriel parallel is obvious), sets up the anarchist vs policeman plot, but it also reveals a detail of Syme’s character (besides being a singularly irritating opponent), namely, that he believes order has to be wrested from a world that is in a state of dreary anarchy, “that every time a train comes in [he feels] that it has broken past batteries of besiegers, and that man has won a battle against chaos.” Syme makes good points that Chesterton’s other writing makes it clear we are supposed to agree with, but Syme has gone a bit too far down this road to be completely sane about it. “Yes, the most poetical thing, more poetical than the flowers, more poetical than the stars — the most poetical thing in the world is not being sick.” It is only the sick man who is obsessed with health, Chesterton points out elsewhere. It is only the poet convinced that sickness is the dull, natural state of being who finds health so poetical. Syme has a correct intuition that order is beautiful and proper, but this is the flaw in his philosophy that will need to be corrected over the course of the book.

“Syme broke into a great laugh that seemed too large for his slight and somewhat dandified figure.” It has been remarked that Chesterton — only described as ‘slight’ by the most hardened liars — had a somewhat high laugh, surprising for such a large man.

“All the time there was a smell of lilac all round him.”

Awwwwwww

“Once he heard very faintly in some distant street a barrel-organ begin to play” (it’s a surprise tool that will help us later).

“In the wild events which were to follow, this girl had no part at all; he never saw her again until all his tale was over. And yet, in some indescribable way, she kept recurring like a motive in music through all his mad adventures afterwards, and the glory of her strange hair ran like a red thread through those dark and ill-drawn tapestries of the night. For what followed was so improbable that it might well have been a dream.” While Syme doesn’t interact with Rosamond (or indeed, any women at all), during the main action, this indicates that Rosamond is the goal, able to be seen again only at the end of the adventure. The “dark and ill-drawn tapestries of the night” reminds us that this novel is sub-titled “A Nightmare.”

“There is your precious order, that lean, iron lamp, ugly and barren; and there is anarchy, rich, living, reproducing itself — there is anarchy, splendid in green and gold.” Lucian’s core statement is that anarchy is the state of life. “‘All the same,’ replies Syme patiently, ‘just at present you can only see the tree by the light of the lamp. I wonder when you would ever see the lamp by the light of the tree.’” On one level this is a witty and clever answer from our witty and clever (if perhaps a bit flippant), protagonist. On another level this is an admission on Syme’s part that he believes nature to be fundamentally chaotic. And on a third level this is a statement that it is the order of man’s reason that illuminates and makes knowable the world.

Syme makes a rash vow towards the end of the chapter, without full knowledge of what it will cost him to keep it. He takes this oath on nothing more than the promise of “a very entertaining evening.” Perhaps, if he is able to keep this vow to the brother, he may be able to keep a similar vow to the sister.

#tmwwt book club #chapter 1

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questionsonislam · 5 years

Note

Does Sexual Life exist in Paradise?

Beyond doubt, along with every enjoyment in Jannah (Paradise), sexual intercourse exists, too. The verses that mention spouses and Houris have thus referred to such pleasures.

Numbers such as 40, 70 in Arabic literature describe plenitude, an allusion for abundance. In the hadith, sexual strength is used in order to express that the sexual intercourse in Jannah is zestier than the intercourse of this world. The expression of Abdullah b. Abbas, “No any felicities of Jannah resemble the ones that exist in the world; but, there is only a resemblance of name” is also valid for the felicity of marriage. In an eternal life, the degree of pleasures which were prepared only for the folk of Jannah is beyond and above any of human expression. As it is described in the hadith, the beauties within Jannah have “never been seen by an eye, nor heard by an ear, or (even) imagined by a human being”.

Some questions can come into our mind as a result of our inadequate understanding of Jannah.

In Paradise:

1- A human being will be able to be present in many places at the same time.

2- Places as large as a world with full of vineyards and palaces will be given to every human

3- Every kind of human desires will take place, but nothing will happen unless human wants.

4- It is impossible to comprehend Jannah with the criteria of this world. A baby in the mother’s womb cannot comprehend what is told about this life; similarly, the world is just like a womb for us when compared with Jannah. It is impossible for us to comprehend it. That is why a baby, who is nourished with the umbilical cord in the womb, starts to benefit from life with his/her eyes, ears, mouth and many other organs.

Sexual Pleasures in Jannah

“Verily the Companions of the Garden shall that Day have joy in all that they do.” (36/Ya Seen,55)

“In them will be (Maidens), chaste, restraining their glances, whom no man or Jinn before them has touched.” (55/Al-Rahman,56)

“Like unto rubies and coral.”(55/Rahman, 58)

Beyond any doubt, sex has an important place in human’s life. As it is emphasized in the Quran (30/Ar-Room, 21) by marriage, both sexes have satisfaction both spiritually and physically. The continuation of the same satisfaction is certainly natural. According to the description of some verses and hadiths about Paradise, there will be both world women and Houris in Paradise.

The expression stated as “with companions pure (and holy)” in the verses (2/Al-Baqara, 25; 3/Aal-e-Imran 15) imply both the Houris and women of the world.

“To them will be passed round, dishes and goblets of gold: there will be there all that the souls could desire all that the eyes could delight in: and ye shall abide therein (for aye).” (Az-Zukhruf: 43/71)

Sexuality is among the things that the souls desire. Thus, the verse implies the existence of sexual life in Paradise. It is understood that the physiological defects and the spiritual depressions that have a negative effect on the sexual lives of women will be solved before entering Paradise as a result of the physical and spiritual purification process that will be applied to believers.

There are lively depictions about the beauty, dressiness and attractiveness of Paradise women in some verses and hadiths. In a narrative, it is told that while houris talk about their differences, women of the world in Paradise would silence them by expressing their superiority because of their good deeds that they did in the world.

Although there are various views regarding how many women especially world women a man will have, the sound narration regarding the issue is the sound hadith in Bukhari and Muslim. According to that hadith, every man in Paradise will be given two “grace wives with transparent skins” and nobody will be left unmarried there (Bukhari, Badul-khalq 8; Muslim, Jannah 14). It is possible that both women are houris or world women, or one is houri and the other is a world woman.

There may be objections stating that in the descriptions related to sexual life in Paradise, the qualities like beauty, attractiveness are attributed to women, but the encouraging results and advantages are usually mentioned for men; thus women are shown kind of means of satisfying the pleasures of men. It is known that when a group of women and men are addressed together or when explanations regarding both women and men are made in Arabic, the masculine gender is used. Besides, in the art and literature of all societies, the woman is accepted as the focal point of grace and attractiveness; she has been the theme of romantic poems and other artistic works; the woman has usually been in the position of being demanded not demanding.

It is understood that the same style and approach is valid in the description of sexual life in Paradise. The fact that a man will be given at least two wives – one world woman and one houri – in Paradise, where no one will be left unmarried, should be related to the same theme. Indeed, the researches carried out on women psychology in the world life show that she is monogamic and she leaves place for only one man in her heart and imagination. Besides, this is necessary in order to protect the mother’s womb, which ensures the continuation of human beings, hence the determination of the father and the continuation of the generation.

The aim is not the bounties of Paradise that give bodily pleasures but the consent of Allah

In fact, the bounties of Paradise that meet the bodily needs and give bodily pleasures are not the aim for the people of Paradise. The real aim that is desired to be attained is the consent of Allah. To attain the consent of Allah for man is to turn the spirit that Allah granted him (al-Hijr 15/29) toward Allah, to observe Him and to talk to Him. The most sincere and common expression of prayer that expresses the feelings of thanks and gratitude among Muslims is, “May Allah be pleased with you.” The friends of Allah are those who are closest to Him, who attain His consent, pleasure and love and who attain the greatest happiness by loving Him heartily with consent and surrendering.

In a verse that expresses the relationship between Paradise and the consent (pleasure) of Allah, the following is stated, “Allah hath promised to Believers men and women Gardens under which rivers flow, to dwell therein, and beautiful mansions in Gardens of everlasting stay. but the greatest bliss in the Good Pleasure of Allah: that is the Supreme Felicity” (at-Tawbah 9/72), expressing that this spiritual element of the otherworldly bliss is more valuable than all of the other bounties described using material concepts. "O (thou) soul, in (complete) rest and satisfaction! "Come back thou to thy Lord well pleased (thyself), and well-pleasing unto Him! "Enter thou, then among my Devotees! "Yea, enter thou my Heaven"! (al-Fajr 89/27-30). As it is stated in sound hadiths, after all believers enter Paradise and are settled, God Almighty will address them and ask them if they are pleased with their situations and they will say that they are pleased to the utmost extent

Thereupon, Allah will say to them, “I will give you something better than it: I am sending (distributing) my consent and pleasure to you; my wrath will not touch you again. (Muslim Jannah 9)

Paradise (hence Hell and the hereafter life) will start and go on not only in the realm of spirits but also in the world of matter and realities that consists of the spirit and the body and that has, vineyards, gardens, rivers, etc. It is not possible to interpret material elements that the existent verses of the Quran contain as unworldly or spiritual narrations or symbols. Imam Ghazali accepts that the pleasures of Paradise are divided into three: emotional, imaginary and mental and that everyone will make use of all or some of them based on their abilities. When the pleasures become constant in the hereafter by the elimination of interruptions that are the deficiencies of the imaginary and mental pleasures in the world life, they will become very attractive.

How will privacy be in Paradise?

As it is understood from the hadiths, every person will be given a 500 hundred yearlong place in Paradise, roughly as large as the earth. Within that large place, a person will have a separate private place where he will be together with his friends

However, the bad traits have no place in Paradise. Therefore, there will be no jealousy; a person will not feel sexual desires toward people that are non-mahram. As a matter of fact, a person who has no eyes cannot see; a person who has no ears cannot hear. You will not be disturbed when a blind person sees you near someone. You will not feel disturbed and worried when you see a small boy whose sexual feelings have not developed with your mother or sister.

That is, bad thoughts and feelings have no place in Paradise. They were given in this world for trial and testing. Since there is no trial and testing in the hereafter, there is no need for them. The sexual desires of a person that are valid for one’s spouse are off for others. Therefore, nobody will be disturbed by others.

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thesickbcy · 5 years

Text

Idle fingers brush together as he stands on a very small mound of whithered yellow overlooking a wide circular expanse of vibrant green. Colors fade from bright to dark, but the center-most point is the brightest and liveliest in color. The unchecked grass sways in the wind, long and slender, waving at him tenderly from where it grew. Fae’s glamoured fingers rub together once more, feeling the sensation of warmth from fake flesh and the cold of metal rings coiled around his fingers. The other hand of his, held tight to his clothed chest, tightened slightly around a boquet of three white tulips, several purple hyacinth, and three black roses. The plastic crinkled around them as he made his way towards the center of the Eye, finally feeling brave enough to pry himself from the endless pine trees that surrounded the sacred grounds he stepped upon.

In the center of the massive faerie circle (the Eye of the forest, as it were) sat three pillars of stone. The one to the left was the smallest, the roundest and smoothest (almost worn down into a ball rather than a pillar), and sat slightly tilted. The one on the right was a bit taller than the first, with a pointed head and several flattened sides, almost as if it were a pencil made of stone. Bits and pieces of it had been chipped out by the world. The center pillar was the tallest, reaching up to about Fae’s height, and it remained a simple cylinder with a round ball sitting atop it. The ball itself had seven prongs sticking out of it, all connected by a single halo; a simple sun statuette.

At the bottom of each pillar was a plaque. The first plaque read the name KEATON “PARCE” BISHOP, with a date that lasted only eight years beneath it. The second plaque was for a woman named MICHIKO “HAGRAVEN” BEAU, and her date indicated she had died when she was only foury-two years old. The third and final plaque read KAIROS “FAE” BISHOP. He had died when he was only twenty-one.

He stands before the three pillars - specifically, before his mother’s gravestone - and looks them over. The years trapped within the Eye had kept them safe, although the typical wear ‘n’ tear nature caused were beginning to show. Fae’s own grave seemed to suffer the most damage, which didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. He really only comes here once in a while to tend to the grounds, bring some flowers, mend the stones. Though, his job’s getting more and more persistent, meaning he has less and less time to come by.

“Heh... sorry, Ma. Didn’t mean t’make ya wait. Life’s gettin’ real busy now that ol’ Asswipe’s makin’ me his real heir.”

Fingers pick at the plastic wrap around the flowers, rubbing it between newfound nerves and sinew to get a feel for it. Everything felt so different when glamoured. Like it was... number. Duller. Life wasn’t as technicolor for humans and monsters as it was for the Fae. He kind of misses it.

“I know how it is with the fae ‘n’ witchy kind, but I think you’d really like it down there. It’s beautiful, vibrant. Bright. You were never really one for much color, but I think you could get behind the pretty yellow flowers ‘n’ the glowin’ pink drinks we serve. They remind me’a you every time I see ‘em.”

He stops fiddling with the plastic for now, breathing in deep and holding a lungful of air. Something he hasn’t done in so long. What else is there to say to her? He can’t really excitedly tell her about his day job, and his night one isn’t much better. There’s really not much to do here anymore, is there? Except for the promise.

“I can’t remember if this was ever a real thing ya said or if it’s just my imagination, but. I think it was real. ‘Least... it helps me thinkin’ it was real. So, lemmie be selfish for one last time and continue on believin’, yea?”

He always asks so much of her. Let him be selfish. Let him go fight. Let him take care of the household. A whole lot of good that got him, huh? Fae’s aware he’s a selfish, greedy little man. Didn’t matter his intentions. Good, bad, in the end it all turned out the same: he ruined their lives by being selfish. By trying too hard to be the good guy, the hero. Maybe that’s why he can’t stand Iret and his goody two-shoes friends.

Fae squats in front of the pillar before him, getting comfortable on his feet while resting his arms on his knees. There’s a rustling in the forest on the other side of him, but he doesn’t pay it mind. The wind’s stopped blowing, as if to listen in on his private conversation.

“I remember you an’ I makin’ a promise. You forced me to, actually. The week before we all died, you said I had to promise you somethin’. Wouldn’t tell me what it was ‘til I agreed. Then... you said...”

As he recites the words, he can hear them in her voice almost as clear as night.

“ My son, listen here. There’ll be a time when I’m gone. A time when I won’t wake up the next day, and you and little Kea will be all alone in this world. When they bury me beneath that damp soil, I want you to promise me never to hold on too tight to anything but your brother and your soul. I want you to promise me that you’ll let me go whenever you’re ready to, and you’ll finally start letting yourself live the life you deserve. Promise me, my son, that you’ll keep yourself and your brother safe no matter what you must do. ”

Tears well up in false eyes as Fae exhales. The faerie’s free hand lifts and rubs against his eyes, trying to rid him of the painful reminder of just how human he had stayed all these years. You can take the man out of Humanity, but you can’t take the Humanity out of a man. That’s what she used to say to him whenever he feared the Faeries howling at night. It means, no matter what happens, you will always still be you. Remember that, my darling dear. They can catch you, but they can’t kill you- the real you lies deeper inside than you could ever reach.

Yeah, right.

“I think you know why I came here t’day, then.” He stares at the base of the pillar, taking note of all the little vines and flowers that had woven themselves around it. “I came to finally say goodbye, ‘n’ t’keep that promise I made to you all those years ago.”

He broke every other promise he’d ever made to her, but at least now he could say he kept the most important one. Letting go was never easy, and he’s sure he’d never really let go of her or her memory, but maybe.. maybe if he tried, they both could find some kind of peace. She in her afterlife, and he in his hell.

“I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always... a-always love you, Mama. But I think it’s time we both parted ways. Parch is fine. I’m as... okay as I.” He stops to clear his throat, looking skyward to keep more tears from pouring down his tattooed cheeks, “I’ll be okay. You just rest now, okay? You did the best damn thing ya could for us boys. ... You... y-ya gave us hope. No matter... who we are. Ya always told us we’d be loved.”

The flowers crinkle quietly as if out of respect for the heavy emotions Fae laid out in front of him. He set them atop her name plaque gently, making sure they rested safely atop her grave. The stark contrast between the white and black flowers really shone among the grey and the green surrounding them.

Three black roses, one for each of them. A symbol of death and end for each relationship he held, and for his old life he could no longer live. A symbol of hope that in this death, something new would blossom. Three white tulips - again, one for each - prayed for purity and innocence to come after their death, and symbolized his own forgiveness of what had come to be. And the purple hyacinth which made up most of the bouquet... a plea. Forgive me, I am sorry, I am filled with sorrow. They were all for her, primarily, in hopes that she would grant him a mercy he did not deserve.

“Goodbye, Mama. May your sleep be Dust free and your wings bring you high.”

Just as he’s about to get up, something shifts to his left and catches his eye. On the plaque of his brother’s grave rested a single blue hyacinth, a symbol of begging forgiveness for one’s own lie. Fae reached out to pick it up before noticing something else peculiar. All around the base of his brother’s grave, a flower he’d never seen before bloomed. Fresh, natural, as if they had been planted there or had grown through the ground on their own. Only when he plucked one from the ground did he hear their name whispered on the wind.

Spring crocus. Penitence roses. Flowers bloom with forgiveness from one’s loved ones.

Standing upright and tucking the single plucked flower into his shirt, Fae adjusted his jacket and once more wiped his face free of tears and snot. It’s nasty, but weren’t all emotions as such? He took a deep breath of the fresh air around him, glancing outward towards the forest in an attempt to recover his composure. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with something stirring in the forest that he felt truly vulnerable.

Watching him with steady red eyes was none other than a forest harpy. He couldn’t see her bodice entirely well; her brown mottled feathers kept her pretty well blended among the trees and the dark shadows of the endless forest. But he could see her. Her long hair, her glowing eyes, her sharp and gaunt face almost hidden among the shadows like her bodice was.

He stepped around the graves and began making his way towards her as quick as he could without coming across as threatening. Unfortunately for him, by the time he made it around the graves, she was gone, fleeing off into the forest like a frightened doe from a hunter. Fae would run after her, but stepping outside the Eye meant he’d leave the graves for good, and he just wasn’t ready to leave yet. Whoever she was, she was gone now. How’d she even find the Eye? Non-fae weren’t supposed to be able to see into it...

He’d been caught - and there’s no telling who might catch him next if he wasn’t careful. Fae’s time has run out, which meant he needed to return back to the Mountain. Trudging back to the front of the graves, Fae wanted to get one last look at the pillars before leaving them for good. When he turned to stare at them, he covered his mouth with his hand, keeping whatever emotions he felt from overwhelming his expression. Tears welled up in his eyes once more, spilling over his hand as he stared at the beautiful sight before him.

The flower from before - the one he couldn’t recognize. The spring crocus? Whatever it was, it had begun blooming not only over his little brother’s grave, but his mother’s and his own as well. Several new bulbs just waiting to open had grown thick enough to cover and unite each of the name plaques, making it so anyone who’d come through - if they’d come through - could no longer read the names or dates written there. Forgiveness. Mercy. Grace. Protection. To top it all off, a single vine coiled around the flowers resting on his mother’s grave, holding them tight to the plaque he could no longer see.

One final embrace for his final goodbye.

#drabbles;#the mother;#the brother;#fae;#punches myself in the hussy #'its art'#mother death -#parental death -#oh i really fucked up my huss huss is depruss pruss #long post #me: i need to proofread this so it sounds good #also me: fuck that shit we post our first drafts like feral artists

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yoongi-sugaglider · 6 years

Text

Somebody Save ME

This case might just be the death of a young detective. Sleepless nights and stress filled days haunt the young detective Kim Taehyung but he’s determined to find her. Even if it’s the last thing he may do…

Warnings:angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder, strong language, detective au

Word count:2459

A/n: Woof.Okay...soooo...there are a lot of things to say about this chapter. For one, I wrote half of it in one sitting while my mother in law snored beside me lol. Apparently the rhythm of my typing put her to sleep. For another thing, it was a tough chapter to envision. But now that the picture’s been made clear in my mind....I think you guys are in for a rough ride. You see...I don’t know the ending. I don’t have anything more than vague concepts and random thoughts putting this story together. If it weren’t for @btsstan4life putting up with my random jumble of half thought out messages and such, there probably wouldn’t be a chapter 7 lol. So thank you wifey. Much love~ As always, if you like it, please,please don’t hesitate to drop a like or reblog or even a comment!I appreciate them all as they provide the motivation to keep writing~

<<Part Six---Part Eight>>

Chapter Seven:Sunshine and Amethysts

Taehyung and Namjoon waited impatiently outside of the victim’s home, house keys in hand as the rest of the world passed by unaware.

“Where is this guy?” Tae demanded impatiently, jingling the keys in his hands as his eyes restlessly scanned those who passed by. Each person seemed to stick out as suspicious to him, and when he realised he was glaring daggers at an elderly woman crossing the street with her groceries he sighed and sat down with a huff on the front steps.

“Come on now Tae, he’s only a few minutes late. I’m sure considering the time of day and traffic it’s perfectly justified.” Namjoon leaned down and patted Tae roughly on the shoulder which Tae shrugged off as he rested his elbows on his knees, house keys dangling in his hand.

“You make an appointment as a professional I’d expect you to keep it.” Tae grumbled, more to himself than to Namjoon. His restless scanning of those walking down the sidewalk paused as his eye caught a strange sight that’d just turned the corner onto the street.

A young man, probably not much older than Namjoon, was headed in their direction. He wore a bright red floral print shirt, wide open to show an even brighter yellow shirt beneath. Vibrant red hair pressed beneath a yellow snap back virtually glowed in the early morning sunlight as the man danced down the street to whatever music came from the headphones covering his ears.

He twirled and dipped, lightly hopping from one foot to the other as he made his way towards the house.

“Do you see this guy?” Namjoon asked, plopping down next to Taehyung.

“Yea, wish I could be that happy.”

The two chuckled but the laughter quickly faded away as the walking ray of sunshine that was this brightly colored man began making his way up the walkway before stopping right before the two. His grin shone, filling his high cheekbones to their fullest and causing his eyes to disappear into tiny crescent moons that were rimmed with laugh lines that radiated nothing but joy.

“You two must be Namjoon-ssi and Taehyung-ssi. Bri’s told me a lot about you guys.” He stuck out his hand, first to Namjoon and then to Taehyung, who both shook it though they were still slightly in shock.

“Bri’s talked about us?”Namjoon asked as he stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants before holding a hand out to help Taehyung up as well.

“Well naturally.” The man chuckled, tucking his hands into the pockets of his overly large red parachute pants. “I’m Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. Dancing extraordinaire and part time computer tech expert.” He winked cheekily. “And you're Kim Namjoon, ace detective, top of your class at the academy, met Bri in your third year who is now your wife. And you..”

He turned to Taehyung who gave off a suspicious growl. “You are Kim Taehyung, no relation. Second in your class, strong sense of justice, always willing to help those in need. Also...very suspicious of newcomers.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest before leaning against the closed door behind him. “Well, you know plenty about us apparently. And yet we don’t know damn diddly about you. Don’t know if I like that too much…”

“Ya! It’s not important.” Hoseok waved dismissively, his smile never leaving his lips. “What you do need to know is that I’m good at my job and if there’s something need’s finding I’m the guy to find it for you.”

He waved at the closed door behind Taehyung as Namjoon sighed.

“Alright Tae, let’s just get this over with…” Namjoon nodded to Tae who, after a moment of internal debate, nodded and unlocked the door.

The atmosphere in the former home was foreboding, almost as if the group of men were intruding on an ancient tomb. A thick layer of dust covered everything and the little white flags leftover from the police investigation still stood, a grim reminder that they were entering into a crime scene.

“Did they not have any family to come and take care of the place?” Hoseok asked as he wrinkled his nose at the stale smell.

“No, the father was an only child and both of their parents and extended family were either deceased or weren’t on speaking terms.” Tae glanced around the living room, noticing the family pictures on the mantelpiece over the fireplace and the smiling faces that beamed out from the moments frozen in time.

A twinge of pain flashed in his chest as he recognized his missing crush, her bright smile never changing from the picture of her as a little girl, holding up a soap sud covered puppy in triumph, to the picture of her during what looked to be her high school graduation. She was dressed in a maroon cap and gown and held up her diploma, the same triumphant look on her face.

“You going to be alright?” Namjoon asked in a hushed voice as he patted Taehyung gently on his back.

Tae closed his eyes,nodding as he swallowed past the lump in his throat before leading the other two up the stairs to the second floor. Hoseok began peaking in the rooms as they past, only stopping when Tae closed one of the doors in his face.

“The office is down here.” His voice came out as a growl, causing Hoseok to raise his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, let curiosity get the best of me. Lead on, lead on.”

Tae shook his head before turning back around to continue on. He paused though, squinting as his eye caught a strange painting hanging on the wall.

“The hell?” He pushed past Namjoon to stand before it. An all black background with violent streaks of different shades of purple. And in the center, taking up most of the canvas was what looked to be an arrow, streaking through the center of a circle.

“Why do I know that symbol?” He asked quietly.

“Hey, are we going to the dad’s office or what?” Hoseok asked, giving Tae and the painting a confused look.

A feeling of cold dread filled Tae, but he shook it off, have to focus on the case, not on this creepy painting.

After ripping the police tape off the office door the three men stepped inside, taking up most of the space in the small room. It wasn’t messy by any means. On the contrary it was well organized. Several shelves lined the walls, all filled with books of different types related to the father’s job. A filing cabinet stood to the left of the window looking out into the back yard and just beneath the window was an office desk that looked as if no one had disturbed it since the family had last lived there.

Hoseok immediately made a bee line for the computer, turning it on and pulling the desk chair out for himself.

“Mmm...now I’m in my element.” He chuckled to himself as he glanced over his shoulder to the two men. “I gotta ask though, how come the cops never searched this bad boy?”

Namjoon shrugged, leaning casually against one of the bookshelves with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m pretty sure they did. But from what the report mentioned they didn’t dig very deep nor did they find anything that could have linked him to the kidnapping or to his and his wife’s murders.”

Tae made his way over to the filing cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and beginning to go through the files.

“Knowing them they checked the bare minimum of his emails and a couple of files on the desktops and then labeled it useless.” Hoseok turned to stare at the screen as the password screen popped up, rubbing his hands together in glee before pulling a usb drive out of his back pocket. “Alright time to get cracking.”

Once inside he went quiet, pulling up the commands input screen and beginning to type at the speed of light. Though his eyes remained focused on the screen his body never stopped moving, whether it was his feet tapping out a rhythm or his shoulders wiggling around to some imagined beat.

“You know what you’re looking for right?” Namjoon asked as he walked over and leaned forward to watch Hoseok’s commands fly across the blue screen.

“You’re looking for a file or folder buried way deep that’s got information related to a Wungshi corporation or something along those lines. I’m running a program that’s going to drag out anything that’s been hidden or encrypted or that the old man didn’t want to be found. If it’s there I guarantee you I can find it.” He flashed Namjoon a dazzling smile that lit up his entire body before turning back to his work.

Tae meanwhile had made his way down to the second drawer, boredom causing him at this point to scan through the file names instead of actually looking into their content.

By the time he’d made it to the fifth and final drawer Hoseok had announce that his program was just about done scanning and was getting ready to extract the relevant files.

A tiny flash of yellow caught Taehyung’s eye, drawing his attention to a small square of paper tucked between the drawer of the filing cabinet and it’s interior wall.

“Hey hyung, help me with this.�� Tae said as he pulled the drawer to it’s fullest extent.

Namjoon crouched down, pressing the tabs on the inside of the track as Taehyung pulled on the drawer and the two working in unison effectively removed it from the filing cabinet.

“What are you after?” Namjoon asked as Tae reached his arm deep into the now vacant recess.

“Saw something…” Taehyung grunted. His fingertips brushed against the square of paper and he grabbed it, but just as he was pulling it out something else brushed against his palm. Something long and hard and cold.

“The hell is all this?” Hoseok chimed from the computer. His search program had pulled up several files. All were listed as Wungshi and over half of them contained not written documents, but videos instead. “Hey guys? You uh...might want to see this…”

Namjoon set the filing cabinet drawer to the side and made his way to stand just behind Hoseok, his eyes focused on the screen. Tae meanwhile managed to grab whatever the hidden object was and pull it into the light. He stared up at it as he watched the light from the window shine through it, casting purple prisms along his face and the wall behind him. Some sort of crystal?

“The hell?” He and Namjoon spoke in unison and this pulled his attention to the two men sitting at the computer. “You guys find something as interesting as I did?”

Namjoon motioned him over, his face never leaving the paused video on the screen.

The image was blurred and black and white, as if it’d been taken from security camera footage. 7 hooded figures stood in a line, each wearing a different mask. Hoseok clicked play on the video but the figures never moved. The sound of screams flooded from the speakers, echoing through the room and causing the three men to hastily cover their ears to protect them from the screams of agony. A shadow swelled up from behind the men, colossal in size. It seemed to have wings in the shape of bones or some sort of shards of glass or crystal and horns that curled from the side of what they assumed was it’s head.

The video filled with a vibrant purple light and the screams raised in pitch when just as suddenly as the screams had started, they stopped. And so did the video.

“What in the actual fuck was that?” Namjoon shouted, though the other’s couldn’t hear him as they’d been rendered temporarily deaf by the noise.

“Jeeze, are my ears bleeding?” Hoseok mumbled as he checked his hands, wiping at his left ear before checking his hand once again, thankful to find it free of blood.

“Man, if the rest of those videos are like that I’m good.” Namjoon reached over Hoseok’s shoulder, clicking out of the video and scrolling through the rest.

“Wait, what’s that?” Tae interrupted his scrolling, pointing to a video that showed a man sitting in a chair. He seemed to be in a pitch black room, a single light bulb hung over his head to light him.

Namjoon clicked on the thumbnail and Hoseok enlarged the video, quickly lowering the video’s audio as well just in case. This video seemed to be just of the man reading from a book in his hands so Hoseok felt it safe to raise the volume once more.

“He is vibrance. A radiant being filled with knowledge that will bring harmony to the world. Fear not for His glory will shine upon us and His mercy shall reign over the world.” The man paused and stared down at the book before tilting his head back and letting out a laugh filled with joy, and yet, it was so unsettling in it’s nature that it sent a collective chill down the three men’s backs.

The man in the video stood, coming closer to the camera and giving it a leering and twisted smile.

“Don’t worry y/n. Daddy’s going to make sure everything turns out alright. Whistler shall come. And you will be the guiding force that ushers in his awakening.”

Tae’s eyes widened as the video stopped and Hoseok and Namjoon turned to stare at him.

“That’s…”

“Y/n’s dad...the very dad that we thought was murdered right along with her mother…” Tae took a step back, staring down at the strange purple crystal in his hand.

“Hoseok can you get us a copy of everything you’ve found? We might also need your help getting this all figured out. But this house is freaking me out...I’d rather do this at the office.”

Hoseok nodded at Namjoon’s request, pushing the chair back as he got up and reached around to the back of the computer in order to stick a second usb into the port at the back of the computer monitor.

“Hey wait…” He paused, pulling a chunk of cork board that had been hidden behind the computer out. There was only one thing pinned to it. A yellow sticky note matching the one Tae held in his hand almost exactly. A strange symbol and writing just beneath it but in a language neither of them could recognize.

“Hey...isn’t that the same symbol...in that painting in the hallway?” Hoseok asked, glancing up as Namjoon did to stared at a bewildered Taehyung.

“Yea...exactly the same...And y/n’s mom was the one who painted it…”

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cupidsbower · 6 years

Text

I never opened myself this way

Supernatural 13x01, “Lost and Found,” and 13x02, “The Rising Sun.”

Hello friends, I’m baaaaaaaaack.

It’s been a while, but I think I remember how to do this thang.

Let’s see, what to start with? The love song that opens the season? The spectacular casting of Alexander Calvert as Jack? The grey make-up they’ve splattered on Jensen Ackles to make him look a decade older? The statement of thematic intent we get in the third scene?

So many options, so many choices.

I wasn’t actually blown away by the opening episode this season. It was workmanlike - it did its job of setting up the season, but felt a bit plot-by numbers.

That said, there were some lovely moments. Jack is brilliantly cast, with Calvert looking so much like Misha Collins its uncanny. The pay-off of the whole son-of-Lucifer vs son-of-Castiel bait and switch is great too. Clearly families of blood and families of choice are going to be a big theme this year.

If you remember, last season, the theme was “nature vs nurture” but this season it’s looking more like, “Can the apple fall far from the tree?” Or, maybe it’s more, “Who’s your daddy?”

We start with a love song that tells us:

So close no matter how far Couldn't be much more from the heart Forever trusting who we are And nothing else matters

(x)

Which harks back to that old idea of family not ending with blood, but also kind of implies, that yes, maybe the apple never can escape the tree. But on the other hand...

CLARK: Dude. Check it. KID: Check what? CLARK: This! Can I interest you in a Cheesebutt? Or maybe a Salty Butt Combo? Or perhaps my favorite - the Buttshake.

Or an assbutt maybe?

KID: Dave sees this, he’s going to fire you. CLARK: Oh, come on. He’s fired me, like, seven times. And I keep coming back. You know why? KID: Uh, because Dave’s banging your mom? CLARK: Exactly. Let’s face it, buddy. Around here, I’m untouchable. KID: Cool. Good for you.

STATIC CRACKLES FROM THE DRIVE THROUGH SPEAKER. JACK: Father?

(x)

So maybe blood isn’t all that important. Neither Clark’s parentage nor who his mom was dating ended up meaning all that much. An angel blade through the stomach proved Clark was touchable after all.

Hmm. I smell the faint whiff of foreshadowing.

I’m expecting to see a lot of pseudo-parents and pseudo-children this season, all playing out this idea of what they owe each other, and what they give each other.

And as Clark does “keep coming back”, I’m also wondering who we’re going to get back this season that we thought was dead???

The most interesting of the pseudo fathers in these two episodes are, of course, Sam and Dean. I wonder if we’re going to get another bait and switch here. Sam initially seems like he might step up as one of Jack’s pseudo-fathers, but the implication he’s focused on wanting to use Jack to save Mary undercuts it -- if he’s still focused on his own role as child, it puts him on a parallel course to Jack. Dean on the other hand is painted as a John-figure very strongly -- self-destructive in his grief, and seeing things in black and white as a result.

I doubt those positions will last long, though.

“The Rising Sun” is a much meatier episode.

Right off the bat the title tells us there’s going to be lots to explore. Its title uses that old, old play on words: sun/son. It’s a reference to Christ, of course, who was mortal/holy, just like Jack is, but also the dawn of a new day, the Morningstar, and, as Castiel is “Sunshine”, it��s also a reference to him as a father-figure.

Asmodeus is an interesting choice of villain. He’s a demon of Lust. He’s obviously a Trump stand-in of sorts, as so many recent villains have been on Supernatural, but he’s also playing on a bunch of other of America’s vaguely villainous associations. He’s from the south, he’s an older white dude, which together always invoke the Klan. He looks like Colonel Sanders, who is a trickster figure in some ways. While based on a real person, he’s become a cartoonish icon, like Ronald MacDonald. “Colonel” Sanders is so-called because he’s a Kentucky Colonel, rather than a military rank.

Put all this together and compare it to the white-suited Lucifer of The Endverse, and Asmodeus is very much Satan-lite. He’s a pretender to Hell’s throne, and one of the pseudo-fathers Jack will face.

I find Dean’s relationship with Jack particularly interesting in this episode. He calls Jack “It” and is still advocating that he’s intrinsically evil, but he also hallucinates sheep on the road. Sheep. Like the rising sun, this is a common symbol of Christ - sheep are the Lord’s flock.

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. (Psalm 23)

So let’s recap:

Sam and Dean get a hotel room so that Jack can lie down. Next to still waters, or rather the waters that Scooby Doo motors through with his tail.

Dean throws him the Bible to read -- the story of Jack’s own family. But it doesn’t open to death and violence and sin. It opens to The Song of Solomon, a book of love and pleasure. To whit: “Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee” (x).

They feed Jack. They follow him to the valley with the Shedim. Sam comforts him. Dean offers the rod.

It’s not so surprising that Sam is being comforting here -- he had a whole arc about coming to terms with his own powers last season. However, considering how negative Dean is right now, he’s doing a surprisingly good job of being a shepherd to Jack. Take this scene for instance:

JACK: What the hell am I? I can’t control… whatever this is. I will hurt someone. DEAN: You know, my brother thinks you can be saved. JACK: You don’t believe that. DEAN: No, I don’t. JACK: So… if you’re right? DEAN: If I’m right… and it comes to killing you… I’ll be the one to do it.

(x)

That does not strike me as a threat at all. In context, I read it as setting a boundary. For a kid who is worried about his place in the world, that’s incredibly reassuring!

Combine that with the way that Jack is mimicking Dean, it’s pretty clear that it’s Dean who is being established as the main father-figure so far.

I haven’t touched on Castiel much so far, but this seems a good point to do so. The text here is pretty clearly linking Dean and Castiel in a romantic light. Dead-Castiel is to Dean as fridged-Mary was to John. The whole shape of this opening twinset of episodes makes that clear. Sam is focused on getting Mary back, and is willing to use Jack to do it. Dean is grieving for Cas, and his whole world is empty right now because of it.

And yet, both of them have grown and changed since season 1, and neither are falling into quite the same mistakes that Mary or John made. Progress! It’ll be interesting to see what iteration of their mistakes we get this time and what they learn from them.

The final thing I want to mention here is Donatello. I do like this particular ninja turtle. “What would Mr Rogers do?” Hahahaha. Sounds pretty solid to me. But more importantly: 1) a prophet can smell Jack’s power, and it’s not corrupted so far, and 2) we have our first return from the fridge with this character. I’m pretty sure we’re going to get a lot more where that came from.

Okay, I lied. One more thing. Jack is adooooorbs. I love his literalness (such a great hark back to Castiel), and his emo-ness. He’s too good for the torture he’ll be put through on this nightmare soap opera horror show. *squishes him and offers him nougat*

#supernatural #spn meta #dean winchester #sam winchester #theme #meta #magess #jack kline

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b0oker18 · 6 years

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My First Post: My thoughts/headcanon on the relationship of Mulder and Scully pre and post “I want to Believe”

Disclaimer: Originally I just wanted to just share my thoughts on Mulder and Scully's relationship pre - “I want to Believe” and there relationship during “I want to Believe” but I have never really expressed my thoughts publicly before, so this becomes a much longer conversation. So it might get a little messy at some point. I say things like I may get into that in another post and then it goes on for three paragraphs. I just want to get this out there and don’t want to edit anymore. Sorry! Enjoy!

I just re-watched the X Files “I Want To Believe” for the first time in like 4 or 5 years recently, I always liked the movie (I guess), but never REALLY thought about it much other than the MSR scenes.

But upon watching again, and having watched season 10 and 11, (maybe i'll share my thoughts on that another day) I now see the movie with a different set of eyes. Specifically the complex relationship of our beloved M and S. I would like to share some of my theories/headcanon with the tumblr-sphere if there's even anyone willing to listen and give their feedback and thoughts. But please keep in mind that these things are my personal feelings, I have no proof that what i am saying is 100% correct and quite frankly no one else does either. Please Enjoy!

A lot of XF fans say that Scully is sad throughout the entire movie, and I agree, but in my mind it is justified (and please bear in mind that I am mostly thinking just in-universe and not the decision of the writers, directors, actors.) I mean think about it, she has a man at home, who is isolated from the world, he spends his days cutting out newspaper stories and pinning them to a wall in an office the size of a half bath. Mulder is bored, even though he does not admit it. (The pencils on the ceiling in his office are a dead giveaway). Also Scully seems to have her head above water, being a successful doctor. I don't think Mulder is necessarily jealous of that, but it's got to hurt him sometimes. Thats human nature! He lost his chance to tell the world of the things he's done and that sucks!

I also want to be clear that this does not mean I think that M and S spend their days in misery. I think that once Scully comes home from her shifts at the hospital most days Mulder did his damndest to put down the newspapers and be with his woman to the best of his ability. Given his circumstances however it must of been hard to have a fantastic relationship, when he probably never left within a 10 mile radius of there home. I want to believe that there was happiness in those days, and even though I don't think they were exactly fucking like bunnies every night (though in my dirtier headcanon I think the kamasutra was something that suited them in the Bedroom), i don't think they shared every thought and feeling about everything under the sun, remember until season 11 communication was never a strong point. I do think that having each other in those difficult circumstances helped a lot though.

I want to move on the the movie now and sort of get in the heads on M and S. At the start of the movie the FBI comes to “Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital”. They have an ultimatum for Mulder, help us and you will be a free man (which is ridiculous, but you know X Files and shit). Anyway, I could totally see why Scully would jump all over this, for a couple of reasons. 1.) Mulder will finally be free! They can see the world as a couple and truly enjoy their lives. 2.) This one may be reaching but I can accept it. I think in that moment, she believed that once Mulder accepts the FBI’s request and helps them with the case, it would make him see that “hey, you know what? This life is not for me anymore, I’m getting too old for this shit!” which admittedly was not bright on her part. But she took that leap of faith. BTW she sort of admitted it was a mistake several times throughout the movie.

Of course with Mulder being Mulder he dove right back into the thick of it. This is what has been missing in his life for the past 7 years! He becomes that old obsessed Mulder, who I always refer to as “season one Mulder” and because of that he loses sight of what Scully is trying to say and what she wants out of the relationship. Which leaves me to one of the more controversial moments in the film, when Scully sort of breaks things off with Mulder. She cant stand what this case has done to him. She can no longer take obsessed Mulder any more, there relationship has changed. There is no more will they, won't they, there is no more fear of if they got together will it change them in a bad way, which is the feelings I believed they always had during the orginal run. They come home to each other every night now.

I sympathize with Scully here a little bit. I understand where she is coming from. Her life is in a completely different place now, she is a Doctor doing work that must be incredibly stressful and difficult. Not to mention working at a catholic hospital that probably has zero budget and probably can not help 50% of the patients that walk through the door. Basically she can not moonlight as an X Files consultant. I also think what she said in the locker room (I’m not coming home or whatever it was) was a last ditch to get Mulder to wake up and realize that this isn't his life anymore either, which of course backfires.

Now jumping ahead to the end of the movie. The case is solved and life seems to go back to normal. Except of course for the relationship of our dynamic duo, which is still in limbo. Remember how Father Joe told Scully not to give up, clearly Scully struggled over the fact that God may be talking to her through a literal pedifile priest ( yea... I don’t have the energy to get into that today). This is something that she does not to tell Mulder through the entirety of the movie (remember what I said about communication). When she finally tells him, I think that it was the start of the thawing of the relationship which had briefly gone cold.(There is some symbolism in this with the melted snow in the make-out scene) Had Scully not told Mulder what he said I don't think he follows her outside. From there we know the rest. Mulder wants to escape the “darkness” a line that I hate (it's so cheesy), but I'll go with it. Scully of course complies, and they embrace.

Now I want to get into a little bit of post IWTB, which would fall in between 2007 to 2015 I choose to believe that scully breaks things off in 2015 possibly end of 2014, I refuse to believe that they broke up “soon” after IWTB, like CC had implied in interviews, no bro, they didn’t break up that quickly, just no. I believe that after taking there little island getaway things were going very well for M and S, I believe that Scully took a brief leave of absence from the Hospital and M and S got to see a little bit of the world together. Also I will fight anyone who tells me that they did not attend at least one Knicks game together, we all know how much Mulder loves the Knicks (Go Celtics!) (I’m from New England, so sue me!). Mulder and Scully's relationship to me is SUPER complex, there are so many ups and downs, and it did not end with IWTB, which I want to get into a little bit.

So I had a fantastic back and forth with the lovely and super insightful @f-u-carter the other day (you can read here the conversation was expanded upon in the notes FYI). It started with me anonymously saying that in my head canon I believed that “Plus One” came before “This” canonically, I had a couple of drinks in me and had some fun with it. The conversation turned into our beliefs as to why we believed Scully left Mulder (in 2015 not 2009 like CC wants us to think). I want to add a little bit to that. So from 2007-08 to 2014 I believe (or at least I want to believe) Mulder was a new man in many respects, I think he left his newspaper clipping days behind him for a while, and although he was still Mulder in a sense, like having many conversations with Scully about X Files related things. I believe that the “boredom” he felt for so long was gone.

So what changed? Why in the season 10 premiere is he back to being old Mulder? Again @f-u-carter brought up some great points and it helped change my mind. (here it is again, remember the convo is expanded in notes) I think that the world changed for Mulder in unexpected ways. He was suddenly living in the “Edward Snowden” age, where we are constantly being spied upon (again I’m talking strictly in-universe, I’m leaving personal feelings out of it). This could absolutely put Mulder into another tail spin, like a major one! Also originally I thought the 2012 alien invasion was the major factor, but I don't really feel that way anymore.

I have a feeling this frustrated Scully a great deal, I mean she got what she ultimately wanted from Mulder post IWTB, and know here is is back to “season one Mulder”. Given where she was in life, she just could not deal with it again, and it put a huge strain on their relationship leading to the break up. Look do i like the break up, HELL NO, do I truly understand it - not really. But unfortunately due to a certain creator and his never nude propaganda, it is what it is. I can not ignore canon, so this is me trying like hell to justify.

On the somewhat positive side of things, and I can dive deeper into this in another post, I think what rejoining the X-Files did for M and S was taught them how to communicate about feelings and realize there place in the world. Not necessarily working on the X-Files (but it's part of it) but more so that there is no one else for them in this world, just Mulder and Scully. Fate, God, whatever brought them together for a reason. They are the ultimate bringers of truth, the light in the darkness. P.S. I would love to someday talk about God in the X Files universe and how I believe he/she operates, but I need to collect my thoughts on this some more.

Mulder got his mojo back, and Scully I believe, and this may not be the most popular theory, learned how to forgive herself and let go of the mistakes of her past. The last conversation in “Nothing lasts Forever”, I believe puts some credence into my theory (you can read my theory on what Scully whispered to Mulder Here and I think I expanded on it a little, which you can read in the notes). She talked about her guilt of giving up William and her guilt for leaving Mulder (albeit in an X Filely sort of way). I think the final conversation in “nothing lasts forever” is one of the most brilliant conversations both in-universe wise and directorily wise (is that a word?), and I may blog about that another time. In short I think Scully always looked to God to forgive her, but as my Grandmother used to say “God helps those who help themselves” (i’m not religious, but I think it is a beautiful saying).

Last thing I want to talk about is the most controversial episode of season 11 “My struggle 4”, and some of my thoughts on this. A Lot of X Files fans say that Scully “threw away” William, I hate it when people say this. I can understand why people loathe this ending so much, but if you made it this far in this ridiculously long first post then maybe you can hear me out. Throwing something away is a lot different than letting something go. Throwing away implies that you no longer what something, letting go means that you care enough about something to know when to say goodbye. I believe Scully is doing so with William. I don't think Scully ever believed that she was suddenly going to be a Mother to William after being estranged for 17 years. When Scully said “I was never a Mother to him”, the cold hard reality of it is, she is telling the truth, being a Mother is not just about giving birth, but raising the child until adulthood. William (I hate calling him Jackson BTW) was raised by other people, and as an almost adult, at least old enough to make decisions on his own he CHOSE to be a criminal, CHOSE to be left alone. Scully in my mind accepted that. Going back to “nothing lasts forever” again, remember when Scully was talking about Mulder always “Bearing North” (I’m too tired to find the exact quote, sorry), I think she very much took that to heart, and she is doing the same thing Mulder always did, bear north. William knows that Scully loves him, but she also knows who he really is, something she could never protect, ever. To add to that William would never let her protect him, because she and Mulder would die doing so. It is certainly a very heavy burden for Scully, but one in my mind she has to accept.

As for the pregnancy… I have a much harder time explaining that one. What it does do though, in my opinion was put M and S in a position that they came close to having but never actually had. Being actual parents, like for good this time. There is no CSM, alien/human hybrids, super soldiers, whatever to take that away. Should we be jumping up and down for joy over this? No. But if we keep this conversation in-universe isn't it kind of what they wanted? There ages be damned. Could they of lived a quiet, peaceful, happy life without another child, sure! But what this baby does is change them as people. We no longer have to worry about Scully leaving for a third time, because Mulder has been reading up the latest conspiracy theory, putting him into another tail-spin. Mulder is an actual Father now, the new syndicate is dead, William can be whoever he wants (and yes I believe Scully and Mulder know he is alive still). What else is there for him now? Other than being the best older daddy and lover to Scully he can possibly be. Do I think this is some brilliant ending, of course not! But, under these circumstances can I live with it? Yes I can. (I realize that this part is my weakest argument, but this ending is canon and for my own sake I need to rationalize it).

So that is my very, very long first real post, about something I care about deeply. I never really had a voice to let my opinion be known, because None of my friends, family, etc. care about The X Files. Which is fine by me. You have no idea how good this feels, my thoughts have been cooped up in my brain for a long time now, and it was starting to kind of affect me negatively (plus I was laid off recently so I have a lot of free time - don't worry though, I was just hired elsewhere and I start in a few weeks!).

If anyone ever reads this post, whether you agree with me or not, whether you think I suck or not, the only thing I really want to do is keep the conversation going in a positive light about two characters and a show that we love deeply. I will try and blog about something X FIles related maybe once a week, every few weeks, IDK yet. (maybe some sports stuff to, cause I like that shit, but if I do I promise it will be quick.) And of course if everyone thinks this sucks, you will never hear from me again lol!

But I want to keep the conversation going, because it is so much fun hearing other people's theories and headcanons (when it is done respectfully) But the XF community is filled with classy people, and I love that. Anyway here are my closing thoughts for today. Mulder and Scully are incredibly difficult people to read. Because of the structure of the show, there is SO MUCH left unsaid and unseen. But honestly, I personally would not have it any other way. I think it's why I fell in love with these characters so hard. You can take what you want from what little we have seen from their lives, and make of it what you will. Some people think Season 7 was the “season of secret sex”, they were banging every night for like a year, and you know what? There is NOTHING in the canon of season 7 that says they were not. There is a true beauty to that. I honestly believe that. I have to believe that. My opinion, if you care, is that they banged twice in the original run, once after “Per Manum” and once after “All things”, but that's just personal headcanon. But thats it, that’s the show! If you want to believe that M and S proclaimed there love to one another every night during season 8, that’s great! If you still believe that William was a naturally conceived, and CSM only played a very small roll, if any in his creation, that's fine, if you want to believe that after Mulder and Scully had sex the first time, they spent the rest of the night reading each other french poetry, God bless you! Again please understand what i'm saying, the secret beauty to this show that I wish more people talked about is all of the things we don't see, we can shape parts of that universe in our own image, which many other shows don't have the balls to do anymore.

This is the most in-depth have ever been in regards to the X Files and I am proud of myself for doing so, I put my heart and soul into this and I hope you find enjoyment in all of this. Remember Mulder and Scully love each other with the heat of a thousand suns, and even though there have been bumps in the road, at the end of the day they always find their way back to each other. Typing this now, I wouldn't have it any other way and to quote one of the great female characters of all time “I’d do it all over again”. Thank you!

#the x files #txf #msr #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files i want to believe #the x files season 10 #the x files season 11 #my first post #this might suck #it feels good getting this out there #I hope someone sees this #I just want some justification on my thoughts #x files and shit

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thesorcerersapprentice · 4 years

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The Witch in History #1: Victorian Era

“Despite an acknowledgement of the capacity of a male-ordered society to oppress and victimise women, witchcraft narratives and historical commentaries reinforce traditional concepts of femininity, associating acceptable womanliness with passivity, submission to authority, and chastity (or with guilt and repentance). A manly, unfeminine woman may—as a so-called sorceress or witch—tantalize or momentarily assume power, but such women are eventually revealed as wicked or ineffective, even ill-advised, in the challenge they mount to society. … For all its potential as a metaphor for transformation, witchcraft in Victorian writing provides opportunity, not for a radical critique and refashioning of social roles and expectations, but for a conservative reaffirmation of traditional structures of influence and power.” (Maureen Moran)

‘Medicine, especially, was the true Satanism, a revolt against disease, the merited scourge of God. Plainly sinful to stay the soul on its way towards heaven and replunge it into life!’

“Woman, then, is Satan’s chosen one, and Michelet underscores this fact numerous times. He ascertains, for example, that ‘Satan returns to his Eve. Woman is still that in the world which is most natural’.31 It is in her hand, Michelet says, that Satan lays ‘the fruit of science and of nature’.32 In particular, the witch was skilled in aiding other women with their medical problems and acting as a midwife.33 Further, the witch is the one whom ‘the weeping girl’ turns to in order to have an abortion. She also teaches the ‘miserable wife, burdened by the children born every year only to die’ how to ‘cool off the pleasure at the moment [of the man’s orgasm], render it barren’.34 In other words, the witch gives women power over their own bodies, which can be seen as a form of feminist practice.”

“Do not conclude too hastily from what I have said in the preceding chapter that my purpose is to whitewash, to clear of all blame whatever, the gloomy bride of the Evil One. If she often effected good, she was equally capable of grievous mischief. There is no great and irresponsible power that does not also abuse. … What power like that of Satan’s chosen bride, who heals, predicts, divines, evokes the spirits of the dead, can spell-bind you, turn you into a hare or a wolf, make you find a treasure, and, more than that, make you love! This terrible power that unites all the others! How should a violent spirit, all too often wounded, sometimes become very perverted, not have used it for the sake of hatred and vengeance, and for the pleasure in malice and impurity?“

“The Black Mass, in its primary aspect, would seem to be [a]‌ redemption of Eve, cursed by Christianity. Woman, at the sabbath, fills every function. She is priest, and altar, and consecrated host, whereof all the people take communion. At the bottom of things, is she not God himself?”

“The Devil’s Bride cannot be a child; she should be in full thirty years of age, with the face of a Medea and the beauty of sorrow; her eyes deep-set, tragic and feverish, with streams of serpents descending aimlessly, I speak of a torrent of black, untamable hair. Perhaps, on top of all, a crown of vervain, the funereal ivy, and the violets of death.”

According to Leland, the Italian witch, unlike her counterparts elsewhere in the world, usually comes from a family in which her craft has been passed down for several generations, with lineages that in some cases stretch all the way back to Roman or Etruscan times.112 This tradition has been kept alive in utmost secrecy, which it has in Leland’s opinion benefited from, since ‘witchcraft, like the truffle, grows best and has its raciest flavour when most deeply hidden’.

This is the Gospel (Vangelo) of the Witches:

DIANA greatly loved her brother LUCIFER, the god of the Sun and of the Moon, the god of Light (Splendor), who was so proud of his beauty, and for his pride was driven from Paradise.

DIANA had by her brother a daughter, to whom they gave the name of ARADIA [i.e. Herodias].

Thou who art daughter unto him who was Most evil of all spirits, who of old Once reigned in hell when driven away from heaven, Who by his sister did thy sire become, But as thy mother did repent her fault, And wished to mate thee to a spirit who Should be benevolent, And not malevolent!

Great Diana! Thou Who art the queen of heaven and of earth, And of the infernal lands—yea, thou who art Protectress of all men unfortunate, Of thieves and murderers, and of women too Who lead an evil life, and yet hast known That their nature was not evil, thou, Diana, Hast still conferred on them some joy in life.

And thou shalt teach the art of poisoning, Of poisoning those who are great lords of all; Yea, thou shalt make them die in their palaces; And thou shalt bind the oppressor’s soul (with power); And when ye find a peasant who is rich, Then ye shall teach the witch, your pupil, how To ruin all his crops with tempests dire, With lightning and with thunder (terrible), And with the hail and wind . . . And when a priest shall do you injury By his benedictions, ye shall do to him Double the harm, and do it in the name Of me, Diana, Queen of witches all! And when the priests or the nobility Shall say to you that you should put your faith In the father, Son, and Mary, then reply: ‘Your God, the Father, and Maria are Three devils (p.227) . . . ‘For the true God the Father is not yours; For I have come to sweep away the bad, The men of evil, all will I destroy!

‘For every woman is at heart a witch.’

Persecuted by man-made laws as she [woman] has ever been, and as eternally in revolt against them, there could be no more appropriate or deserving figure to be chosen as Patroness of the great fight for freedom than the much libelled, much-martyrized, long-enduring, eternally misunderstood Witch.182

Indeed, to be condemned as a witch was but to have an official seal set upon the highest compliment payable to a woman in more than one period of earth’s history, seeing that it marked her out from the dead level of mediocrity to which her sex was legally and socially condemned. … From Cleopatra or the Witch of Endor onwards, the exceptional woman has had the choice of effacing her individuality or of being regarded as an agent of the devil.183

Woman is more likely to become a witch because of ‘the greater quickness of her perceptions’, he states, something that is evident already in the Garden of Eden. Concerning this biblical event, Hueffer argues along the lines of, for example, The Woman’s Bible: ‘If Eve first gave the apple to Adam, she gave with it the future of civilised humanity.’184 A view of Satan as a cultural hero—similar to Michelet’s—is present in several places in this book as well, with (p.234) phrasings like the following: ‘It is to the search after the philosopher’s stone and the elixir vitae that we owe the discovery of radium. It was only by calling in the aid of the Devil that mankind acquired the prescience of a God.’

women viewers had the opportunity to behold and to evaluate the forbidden freedom and the empowerment of goddesses and enchantresses … instead of identifying with constricting Victorian-style attire and rooms full of knickknacks or lush gardens full of blossoms. Little was forbidden to the witch and her sisters, for they transcended mortal law. Unfettered by temporal imperatives, or even by the Victorian lady’s corset and yards of heavy dress material, sorceresses acted according to their own dictates.

The formidable beauty and glamour of the omnipresent Pre-Raphaelite witches in combination with their commanding, assertive postures must have furthered the enthusiasm this motif aroused in certain nineteenth-century women.

There were not, then, many female painters or sculptors portraying witches, and most of their works were far from subversive. However, we could also count dance as a form of visual representation of the motif, and the case of Mary Wigman’s (1886–1973) Hexentanz (‘Witch’s Dance’, 1914, new version in 1926) then presents an interesting example.

What did Wigman’s witch dances look like, then? In a brief (50 seconds) film clip from 1929 or 1930 of Hexentanz II, we see Wigman wear a wig of dark, dishevelled hair, a ghostly female mask, and a flowing gown. Accompanied by percussion she sits, drums her feet against the ground, and moves around like a spider in a somewhat threatening manner.230 (p.245) The clip does not document the entire performance, but according to contemporary descriptions and photos, it ended with her rising up from the ground and lifting her hands above her head in a menacing fashion.

As we have seen, the demonization of women’s rights activists involved both hysteria and witches, creating a strange circularity between those who used witches as a positive symbol of female rebellion and those who used them to denigrate it. As for the up-valuation of witches, a further factor—which is more amorphous—is how Pre-Raphaelites and others made the visual representations of the figure romantic and glamorous from the 1860s onwards. The influence of this is less easy to trace immediately in the way we can often do with ideas stemming from reading the Malleus, Charcot, or Michelet. Nonetheless, this reworking of iconography also undoubtedly hovers somewhere in the background of the cultural renegotiation of the motif taking place around the year 1900, which led some to make the witch a champion of women’s liberation.

Source: Satanic Feminism: Lucifer as the Liberator of Woman in Nineteenth-Century Culture by Per Faxneld.

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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Ash Wednesday

Lent (the word “Lent” comes from the Old English “lencten,” meaning “springtime) lasts from Ash Wednesday to the Vespers of Holy Saturday — forty days + six Sundays which don't count as “Lent” liturgically. The Latin name for Lent, Quadragesima, means forty and refers to the forty days Christ spent in the desert which is the origin of the Season.The last two weeks of Lent are known as “Passiontide,” made up of Passion Week and Holy Week. The last three days of Holy Week — Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday — are known as the “Sacred Triduum.”

The focus of this Season is the Cross and penance, penance, penance as we imitate Christ's forty days of fasting, like Moses and Elias before Him, and await the triumph of Easter. We fast (see below), abstain, mortify the flesh, give alms, and think more of charitable works. Awakening each morning with the thought, “How might I make amends for my sins? How can I serve God in a reparative way? How can I serve others today?” is the attitude to have.

We meditate on “The Four Last Things”: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell, and we also practice mortifications by “giving up something” that would be a sacrifice to do without. The sacrifice could be anything from desserts to television to the marital embrace, and it can entail, too, taking on something unpleasant that we'd normally avoid, for example, going out of one's way to do another's chores, performing “random acts of kindness,” etc. A practice that might help some, especially small children, to think sacrificially is to make use of “Sacrifice Beads” in the same way that St. Thérèse of Lisieux did as a child.

Because of the focus on penance and reparation, it is traditional to make sure we go to Confession at least once during this Season to fulfill the precept of the Church that we go to Confession at least once a year, and receive the Eucharist at least once a year during Eastertide. A beautiful old custom associated with Lenten Confession is to, before going to see the priest, bow before each member of your household and to any you've sinned against, and say, “In the Name of Christ, forgive me if I've offended you.” One responds with “God will forgive you.” Done with an extensive examination of conscience and a sincere heart, this practice can be quite healing (also note that confessing sins to a priest is a Sacrament which remits mortal and venial sins; confessing sins to those you've offended is a sacramental which, like all sacramentals one piously takes advantage of, remits venial sins. Both are quite good for the soul!)

In addition to mortification and charity, seeing and living Lent as a forty day spiritual retreat is a good thing to do. Spiritual reading should be engaged in (over and above one's regular Lectio Divina). Maria von Trapp recommended “the Book of Jeremias and the works of Saints, such as The Ascent of Mount Carmel, by St. John of the Cross; The Introduction to a Devout Life, by St. Francis de Sales; The Story of a Soul, by St. Thérèse of Lisieux; The Spiritual Castle, by St. Teresa of Avila; the Soul of the Apostolate, by Abbot Chautard; the books of Abbot Marmion, and similar works.”

Another great prayer for this season is that of St. Ephraem, Doctor of the Church (d. 373). This prayer is often prayed with a prostration after each stanza:

O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despondency, lust of power, and idle talk;

But grant rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to thy servant.

Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own transgressions, and not to judge my brother; for blessed art Thou unto the ages of ages.

In the East, this prayer is prayed liturgically during Lent and is followed by “O God, cleanse me a sinner” prayed twelve times, with a bow following each, and one last prostration.

Food in Lent

Some traditional Catholics might follow the older pattern of fasting and abstinence during this time, which for the universal Church required:

Ash Wednesday, all Fridays, and all Saturdays: fasting and total abstinence. This means 3 meatless meals — with the two smaller meals not equaling in size the main meal of the day — and no snacking.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays (except Ash Wednesday), and Thursdays: fasting and partial abstinence from meat. This means three meals — with the two smaller meals not equaling in size the main meal of the day — and no snacking, but meat can be eaten at the principle meal. On those days of fasting and abstinence, meatless soup is traditional. Sundays, of course, are always free of fasting and abstinence; even in the heart of Lent, Sundays are about the glorious Resurrection. This pattern of fasting and abstinence ends after the Vigil Mass of Holy Saturday.

As to special Lenten foods, vegetables, seafood's, salads, pastas, and beans mark the Season, in addition to the meatless soups. The fasting of this time once even precluded the eating of eggs and fats, so the chewy pretzel became the bread and symbol of the times. They'd always been a Christian food, ever since Roman times, their very shape being the creation of monks. The three holes represent the Holy Trinity, and the twists of the dough represent the arms of someone praying. In fact, the word “pretzel” is a German word deriving ultimately from the Latin “bracellae,” meaning “little arms” (the Vatican has the oldest known representation of a pretzel, found on a 5th c. manuscript). Below is a recipe for the large, soft, chewy pretzels that go so well with beer.

BY ST. THOMAS AQUINAS Ash Wednesday : Death

By one man sin entered into this world, and by sin death.–Rom. v. 12.

1. If for some wrongdoing a man is deprived of some benefit once given to him, that he should lack that benefit is the punishment of his sin.

Now in man's first creation he was divinely endowed with this advantage that, so long as his mind remained subject to God, the lower powers of his soul were subjected to the reason and the body was subjected to the soul.

But because by sin man's mind moved away from its subjection to God, it followed that the lower parts of his mind ceased to be wholly subjected to the reason. From this there followed such a rebellion of the bodily inclination against the reason, that the body was no longer wholly subject to the soul.

Death is then natural, if we consider the matter of which man is made and it is a penalty, inasmuch as it happens through the loss of the privilege whereby man was preserved from dying.

But, according to the order appointed by a wisdom that is divine, it is at the time which best suits that Christ takes away both the one and the other, i.e., both sin and bodily defects.

Now it is only right that, before we arrive at that glory of impassibility and immortality which began in Christ, and which was acquired for us through Christ, we should be shaped after the pattern of Christ's sufferings. It is then only right that Christ's liability to suffer should remain in us too for a time, as a means of our coming to the impassibility of glory in the way He himself came to it.

BY ABBOT GUERANGER ASH WEDNESDAY Yesterday the world was busy in its pleasures, and the very children of God were taking a joyous farewell to mirth: but this morning, all is changed. The solemn announcement, spoken of by the prophet, has been proclaimed in Sion: the solemn fast of Lent, the season of expiation, the approach of the great anniversaries of our Redemption. Let us then rouse ourselves, and prepare for the spiritual combat.

The enemies we have to fight with, are of two kinds: internal and external. The first are our passions; the second are the devils. Both were brought on us by pride, and man's pride began when he refused to obey his God. God forgave him his sin, but He punished him. The punishment was death, and this was the form of the divine sentence: “For dust thou art, and into dust thou shalt return” (Gen. 3: 19). Oh that we had remembered this! The recollection of what we are and what we are to be, would have checked that haughty rebellion, which has so often led us to break the law of God. And if, for the time to come, we would persevere in loyalty to Him, we must humble ourselves, accept the sentence, and look on this present life as a path to the grave. The path may be long or short; but to the tomb it must lead us. Remembering this, we shall see all things in their true light. We shall love that God, Who has deigned to set His Heart on us, notwithstanding our being creatures of death: we shall hate, with deepest contrition, the insolence and ingratitude, wherewith we have spent so many of our few days of life, that is, in sinning against our Heavenly Father: and we shall be not only willing, but eager, to go through these days of penance, which He so mercifully gives us for making reparation to His offended justice.

Reflect, too, on that long list of sins, which you have added to the sin of your first parents, and adore the mercy of your God, Who asks only one death for all these your transgressions.

BY REV. JAMES LUKE MEAGHER, 1883 The fast of Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and lasts till Easter Sunday. During this time there are forty-six days, but as we do not fast on the six Sundays falling in this time, the fast lasts for forty days. For that reason it is called the forty days of Lent. In the Latin language of the Church it is called the Quadragesima, that is, forty. St. Peter, the first Pope, instituted the forty days of Lent. During the forty-six days from Ash Wednesday to Easter, we are to spend the time in fasting and in penance for our sins, building up the temple of the Lord within our hearts, after having come forth from the Babylon of this world by the rites and the services of the Septuagesima season. And as of old we read that the Jews, after having been delivered from their captivity in Babylon, spent forty-six years in building their temple in place of the grand edifice raised by Solomon and destroyed by the Babylonians, thus must we rebuild the temple of the Holy Ghost, built by God at the moment of our baptism, but destroyed by the sins of the past year. Again in the Old Testament the tenth part of all the substance of the Jews was given to the Lord (Exod. xxli. 29). Thus we must give him the tenth part of our time while on this earth. For forty days we fast, but taking out the Sundays of Lent, when there is no fast, it leaves thirty-six days, nearly the tenth part of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. According to Pope Gregory from the first Sunday of Lent to Easter, there are six weeks, making forty-two days, and when we take from Lent the six Sundays during which we do not fast, we have left thirty-six days, about the tenth part of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.

When Job's three friends came and found him in such affliction, “they sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven (Job ii. 12).” “The sorrows of the daughters of Israel are seen in the dust upon their heads (Lam. ii. 10).” Daniel said his prayers to the Lord his God in fasting, sackcloth and ashes (Dan. ix. 3). Our Lord tells us that if in Tyre and Sidon had been done the miracles seen in Judea, that they had long ago done penance in sackcloth and ashes (Matt. xi. 21; Luke x. 13). When the great city will be destroyed, its people will cry out with grief, putting dust upon their heads (Apoc. xviii. 19). From these parts of the Bible, the reader will see that dust and ashes were used by the people of old as a sign of deep sorrow for sin, and that when they fasted they covered their heads with ashes. From them the Church copied these ceremonies which have come down to us. And on this day, when we begin our fast, we put ashes on our heads with the words, “Remember, man, that thou art dust, and into dust thou shalt return (Gen. iii. 19).”

#ash wednesday

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