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thesigilsofbaphomet · 4 years

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Lucifer Wants What’s Best For You

(And God is Your Enemy)

So... I touched on this in my response to someone talking about using Micheal in Catholic Folk Magic as a protective, social justice spirit. But I cut my overall take short, because it was off topic. But I wanted to talk about it, so, it’s time for one of my rare non-reblog posts on this blog.

I’ll begin by restating my overall premise- If you look at both canonical and folk-loric sources on Satan, you see a figure who simply desires to help people.

The Snake in the Garden

It is important to note that The Serpent in Genesis is not Lucifer/Satan/The Devil. It’s just... a serpent. Like, it’s not even, specifically, a demon. But the serpent, being a magical talking animal who convinces humans to act contrary to the will of God, is commonly seen as a demon. And I’ll go with that.

So, God creates the whole universe. This includes The Garden of Eden, the paradise that God rents to the first humans in exchange for their obedience. They’re allowed to eat from any tree in the Garden, except the tree in the center, known as the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (The ToKoGaE).

Note- God created Eden for Adam and Eve. God is omniscient, meaning all knowing, thus he knows that Adam and Eve will eventually eat the fruit of the tree. The general Christian take is that the tree is a test. However, if you know that the test takers will fail a test, and you know you will give them a rather extreme punishment for that failure, is it not extremely cruel to present that test?

So the serpent talks to Eve, and there’s an exchange, and eventually, the snake convinces Eve to eat ToKoGaE fruit. Giving her knowledge of Good and Evil. And there’s some really weird thing here where suddenly she knows she’s nude, because she ate fruit that gives her moral knowledge, and apparently there’s a moral weight to nudity? And it’s bad? But God made them nude? So God explicitly create humans in a state of Sin and this whole original sin shit doesn’t really fucking hold up if they were created in a state of sin to begin with? I digress. Eve gives Adam the ToKoGaE fruit, now they both know their nude, so they start gluing leaves to their skin with sap or something (I refuse to believe they had any actual knowledge of how to weave leaves into clothes like it’s just a thing you can do and not something you have to learn how to do, and there’s literally no reason for them to have done that prior, so this is literally the first time they’re trying to use leaves as cover).

And the usual Christian take is that the snake is wrong in this. But... knowledge is good, and God was specifically withholding knowledge from Adam and Eve. So the Serpent was helping them.

Satan Scares a Guy’s Ass

No, literally. A guy named Balaam is riding a donkey and Satan appears to scare the donkey to stop him.

This story makes no goddamned sense, even when you read it in a vaguely modern dialect. But, basically, the Israelites leave Egypt and settle, and the guy who rules the land next to them says “holy shit, that’s a lot of guys, they might come take my shit.” So he sends some messengers to a seer, Balaam, to ask him to curse the Israelites so he can beat them in battle. Balaam says “Ok, sleep here, I’ll tell you what God says in the morning.” In the morning, Balaam’s like “Bad news, guys. God says I can’t go with you. The Israelites are blessed.” The king sends more messengers who are more official looking and they say “Look, dude, our lord will give you SO MUCH HONOR if you come curse these guys for us”

So Balaam says “Look, I don’t care if your king sucks my dick gives me his palace and all his money, I can’t go against God. But stay here, I’ll tell you if he says anything more in the morning (and on reflection, it almost seems like this is explicitly acknowledging that God is just extremely capricious). God tells Balaam, “Ok, go with them, but do exactly what I tell you.” So Balaam saddles his ass up, and goes with them.

And God gets pissed off? Because, I’ll repeat, God is a capricious asshole. So Satan (or, An Angel of the Lord, depending on the translation you read, but the original Hebrew says it’s Satan, who, in Judaism, is an angel of YHWH, and basically exists to test humans) appears, only visible to Balaam’s donkey, and the donkey says “oh fuck that, I’m gonna go to this field over here.” Balaam hits the donkey and the donkey goes back to the pass. So Satan appears again, this time in a narrow pass, so the donkey say “eeengghh...” and tries to, like, slide past Satan by scrapping the wall, and scrapes Balaam’s foot, so, again, Balaam beats his ass. Finally, Satan appears on, like, a narrow bridge, and the donkey can’t turn, can’t just scrape against a wall, and so just lays down. Balaam is, again, pissed off, and Satan opens Balaam’s eyes and asks him why he’s beating his donkey, and God opens the donkey’s mouth so the donkey can be like “no seriously, what the fuck, dude?”

But, so, in Numbers, Satan appears to just stop a guy from doing what God told him not to (and then to) do.

“They go through houses — they go up, they ring doorbells”

In Chronicles, David, king of Israel, decides to have a census. Or Satan tells him to. It’s not clear. In Samuel, David has the idea independently, but in Chronicles Satan tells him to. But anyway. David wants to have a census, which is a pretty reasonable thing. Censuses have a purpose, they tell a government how many people there are, and where they live, and, in America, give data that can be used to decide where and how to spend tax money. But for some reason, authoritarians don’t like censuses.

I want to say more about this, but... it’s literally just “Satan tells David to take a census, God doesn’t like that.” and then God sending an angel to tell David “pick a punishment!”

The Outlier--Job

I feel like a broken record, but, again, this story makes no fucking sense. Job’s super devout, and God’s blessed him. Satan walks up to God and says “Dude, he’s only devout because you gave him shit. Let me take his shit, and you’ll see how devout he really is.” And God says “Ok, sure, but you can’t kill him.”

So Satan just absolutely shits on Job. He gives Job boils, he kills his family, he financially ruins him, and through it all, Job refuses to reject God, so Satan is forced to concede, and God’s like “Haha, told you. Now, Job, how’d you like a new wife?”

This is the one story I’m aware of where Satan is legitimately just screwing with a guy and not trying to help him.

And Satan’s There, Too!

Satan next appears in Zechariah, in, like, a vision, and he’s just sort of there? This is another “The Satan” thing, where Satan is an angel of God whose purpose is to test humans. He doesn’t really do anything, he just gets mentioned as being there.

Then there’s a mention of Lucifer in Isaiah, and, literally, it’s just a reference. He’s not even there, it’s just a throwaway line saying “Lucifer was cast out of Heaven.”

Satan Asks Jesus Out to Some Beers

The last three mentions of Lucifer in the Bible occur in the New Testament, two of them are just Lucifer tempting Jesus.

Mark just mentions that Satan tempted Jesus.

Luke actually describes the temptation. So, Jesus goes out into the desert and fasts for forty days. Lucifer shows up and says “dude, you’re the son of God, just turn this stone into some bread, and have something to eat.” Jesus rebukes him in a “completely missing the goddamned point” way. So Lucifer takes him up to a mountain and says, “Look, dude, come with me, and can rule over everything you see here. It’s all mine, and it’s mine to give to who I choose. Just worship me.” And Jesus rebukes him. So Lucifer takes Jesus up to the top of a temple and says “God gave the angels to you, they’ll protect you, jump off and they’ll catch you.” And Jesus rebukes him again, and Lucifer disappears in a poof of exasperation.

Now, what’s the purpose of this? Well, there’s the standard Christian reading that Satan is trying to lure Jesus away from serving God’s plan because he’s EVIL and his SOLE PURPOSE IS TO OPPOSE GOOD AND THAT’S GOD. But... Ok, so Jesus is the son of God, he’s divine, and, it’s reasonable to assume that he can’t die unless God allows it, because it’s part of God’s plan for him to die in a specific context. So.... why does he fast for forty days? It’s not like he can starve, and he’s divine, so it’s not like he can suffer the pangs of hunger, unless he chooses to, so... is there any meaning in his fasting? I argue not. It’s exactly as meaningless as the act of turning a stone to bread and having a bite.

Then, there’s the second temptation. If we assume that Jesus is benevolent, and divine, and I argue, even as a Satanist, that Jesus is benevolent. I also believe that Lucifer is benevolent and the creator god is the standout as the not-benevolent one in the game. But I expect Christians believe that Satan is evil and Jesus good. Therefore, in Luke 4, Satan says “this world is mine, to give to they who I see fit.” And Jesus refuses to even pay lip service. Despite the fact Jesus ruling the world would presumably be better for people than a world rules by Satan. And Satan is offering that, maybe as a fuck you to God, but he is freely offering up his temporal power to someone who would make the world a better place.

The final temptation, I would argue, is Satan trying to free Jesus from God’s plan that demands he suffer torture and death. He’s trying to show Jesus “you have power of your own, you don’t have to subject yourself to this plan that ends in your death.”

If we interrogate the narrative from it’s own perspective, then Jesus is both God and human, and Satan is appealing to him as a human, saying “you’re a god, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to die.”

Luke 22 is the last mention of Satan in the Bible, and it just says that Satan entered Judas (not in a sexy way), and Judas went out to talk to the pharisees about how he could betray Jesus. But...well, ok, literally the line is-

3 Then entered Satan into Judas surnamed Iscariot, being of the number of the twelve.

4 And he went his way, and communed with the chief priests and captains, how he might betray him unto them.

Like... it makes me think that a lot of the time, when Satan is mentioned in the Bible, they don’t mean a literal figure named Satan, and they’re using the name poetically to refer to people working against God or Jesus. Because... Jesus’ death is foreordained. It’s part of God’s plan, so why would Satan be involved in Judas’ betrayal of Jesus? Unless this is going back to the Judaic idea of Satan as an angel of God who acts as an adversary of humanity, in which case, Satan is acting on God’s orders to make Judas betray Jesus.

To Infinity and Beyond

So, that’s the extent to which Satan is mentioned in the Bible in anyway, either as a figure never called Satan but often conflated with him, to The Adversary, to Lucifer.

After that, you have to look at folk lore and media, and this is simultaneously difficult, because pretty much anyone can make a story up and it can get traction, and actually kind of easy in this particular case, because... most folk lore is one a single track when it comes to Satan.

Most folk lore involving Lucifer/Satan/whatever you want to call him-

I hear he misses the old names, so, special shoutout to “Little Horn”

-involves a human who wants something, and Satan showing up to give it to them for their soul.

And this comes to a realization I made last year- In these stories, if you take the Christian worldview, Satan is actually... giving these things away for free, not for people’s souls.

I’m pretty sure I talked about this on this tumblr, but I’ll go through it so you don’t have to hunt it down.

In Christianity, your soul is not yours, it belongs to God, so you can’t actually give it away or “sell” it

However, to do so, if your could, would be a sin

In Christianity, or at least Catholicism, conceiving of a sin with full intent to commit it is the same as committing the sin.

Therefore, even if you can’t, technically, “sell your soul to the devil,” if you decide to do so, you have immediately sinned, and in fact, you have committed pretty much the biggest sin there is in Christianity, Apostasy, one which cannot be forgiven by any temporal power, and the forgiveness of is the sole domain of God himself.

ie, If you commit Apostasy, you are immediately condemned to Hell, unless God himself intervenes. If you decide to sell your soul to Satan, you have already committed apostasy, even though that’s not a thing you can actually do.

Thus, when a person resolves to trade their soul for something, they are immediately condemned, their soul already destined for Hell, simply for deciding they would give it to Satan instead of trusting in God. Satan should obviously know how this works, he should be aware that a person just deciding to trade their soul is sufficient, and Satan has no reason to actually give the person anything.

So, given that, here’s what happens- A person wants something, they want it so badly, they decide to sell their soul to Satan for it. Satan is fully aware that at that moment the person’s soul is already his. But then he goes and gives them what they want.

The only possible way to interpret that is that Satan literally wants to help people.

But What About Hell?

So, how does one suppose that Satan just wants to help people if those people are still condemned to Hell for accepting his help?

Well, again, we’re going to go back to my background of having been raised Catholic.

In the Catholic tradition, Hell is not a place of fiery torment, it is not a place where demons break out the medieval torture shit and rend your soul. The torment of Hell, in the Catholic tradition, comes from the fact that God is absent. The Catholic tradition believes that Hell is painful because God’s presence is not there, that those who are in Hell are cut off from God.

Obviously, Catholics believe a lot of stuff is the natural consequence of this, they probably believe that without the presence of God, people are more malevolent in Hell, and so there are probably plenty of “mundane” torments there in addition.

However, I believe that the presence of God is not a perceivable thing. If it were, there should not be any atheists, or even non-Catholics. If you could perceive the presence of God, then why would you ever not believe in that God? Therefore, Hell should not feel any particularly different from life on Earth. But even if it does, that is, even if the absence of God is apparently despite his presence not being so, I contend that the human spirit can become accustomed to anything.

Therefore... Hell is not a place of torment, especially for the sinful who reject God in the first place.

Aside: Is God’s Presence Desirable?

If we look at the figure of God from the Bible, I contend that God is worthy of nothing but contempt and hatred.

God is said to have created the universe and all life in it--so that it might adore and adulate him.

God is, supposedly, Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnibenevolent (The Three Omnis). But he created a world of pain and suffering, and not all of that is the consequence of free will on the part of the person who suffers. You can argue that pain and suffering is a consequence of people choosing to do evil, but that does not explain the presence of suffering innocents. An omniscient being would know that free will would result in some people choosing to harm innocent children. An omnibenevolent being would wish to prevent that. An omnipotent being, creating a world ex nihilo, could create a world where the natural consequence of trying to harm a child prevents or punishes that attempt. It would not affect free will to create a world where trying to hurt a child caused the would-be perpetrator to burst into flames or have an immediate heart attack--just like it does not infringe on free will that we as humans cannot naturally fly and the natural consequence of jumping off a cliff trying to do so is to fall. It would not affect free will to create a world where children are immune to harm. God created a world where children can be harmed, and he chose to do so, knowing it would happen.

God paid disobedience with exile and painful death--when he would logically know that it would happen to begin with, due to his omniscience.

God looked at his “children” and murdered them in droves for disobedience.

In fact, God killed around 25 million people in the Bible, and that’s only counting adult men. Satan is responsible for about 10 specified deaths in the Bible (Job’s seven sons and three daughters), but the number of Job’s servants aren’t given, and they were slain at his prompting as well. But Job likely wouldn’t have had more than a few hundred servants, and even if he had ten times that number, even if he had 10,000 servants, God is responsible for at least 2,500 times as many, in adult men alone.

Altogether, the Bible itself paints an image of God as an abusive, selfish authoritarian who throws his “children” away in a fit of pique, or boredom, or to win a bet. Is this a figure deserving of worship? Of adoration? Of love? Christians seem to believe yes, believing that their creation at his whim is all that is needed to earn such. It is the position of an abused child who loves their toxic parent simply because of their relation, and despite their abuses.

An Image of Satan

So, on the other hand, we have this figure who staged a rebellion against a heavenly authority, who rules over a land eternal where the only torment is the absence of his foe, who we have already examined and found to be an abusive authoritarian.

A figure who has killed not even 1% of the people this authoritarian did, and who freely gives what is needed to those who, essentially, pledge themselves to his domain.

A Matter of Interpretation

In the end, it comes down to interpretation and belief, since we actually don’t have any kind of primary source on, well, anything to do with the Bible, or religion in general, to be honest. Personally, I think that if you’re looking at the Bible as any kind of authoritative source, then this is the only possible honest conclusion. If you believe that God is any way not reprehensibly abusive, then you can’t view the Bible as any kind of authoritative source, at least as regards God.

I’m a Satanist, so of course I’m given to a more sympathetic view of Satan, but given that there is no particular authoritative source for Lucifer (even the Bible would have been written by his enemy), the character of Satan can only really be inferred from non-authoritative sources, and interestingly, whatever a person says about their enemy, those statements are incredibly revealing of the speaker, as well.

I don’t, necessarily, believe that all Christians follow such a reprehensible creed, I don’t even think all Christians who view the Bible as, if you’ll pardon the pun, gospel, do. But I think a lot of Christians do not take any time to honestly evaluate the Bible and what it says about their God.

#God #Satan #Religion #Christianity #Satanism #Lucifer #The Devil

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

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lord, help

After a little playground drama, Tony has to deal with the fact that Tali really is Ziva’s daughter—through and through.

For @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee and @indestinatus, with whom I’m always getting into trouble. Also on ff and AO3

________________________

“Before I start talking, do you three have anything to say for yourselves?”

Arms crossed, Tony paces the short length of the dining room, watched closely by three dirty, nervous children. They’re sitting side by side at the table, chairs scooted close together as they huddle in solidarity, and they remain determinedly quiet.

“Alright then. Go ahead and tell me what you’ve done.”

None of them respond to this, either.

Frowning, Tony pulls out a chair opposite his daughter and sits down. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, “I happen to know that you speak no fewer than three languages. I also know that you know I spent a lot of time in law enforcement… I’m pretty good at getting information out of people. You’re smart and you’re very eloquent when you want to be, so when I ask again, I expect a reply this time: what happened?”

Tali’s expression turns at once from anxious to defiant, and she matches her father’s earlier posture by crossing her arms. Then she looks away, silent as ever.

“Well, Tali?” Tony prompts, feeling distinctly Gibbs-ish as he leans in and narrows his eyes.

Finally, Tali gives an answer, but it’s muttered mutinously under her breath and Tony doesn’t catch any of her words.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” she growls back, looking distinctly Ziva-ish, “that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Whose fault was it, then?”

“Gabriel’s. He started it.”

“What did he start? This would all be so much easier if you would just start from the beginning, baby girl.”

Tali huffs, glancing between her friends—neither girl looks particularly eager to jump in. As always, she has to do every dang thing herself! “Fine. We went to the park to practice, and—”

“Practice what?”

“Dad, you said it’s rude to interrupt! Ugh. We went to the park to practice krav maga. Gabriel saw us, and he asked what we were doing. I told him. Then he said we had to stop—we couldn’t do it ‘cause girls are weak!”

Tony files the ‘krav maga’ thing away to circle back to in a moment and focuses on the rest of the story. “And that started a fight?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

“Well, I said ‘maybe someday you can work your way up to “weak,” too,’ and that started a fight.”

Tony has to look away for a moment to compose himself, certain that he’ll laugh if he keeps looking at her. “I see,” he manages after a moment, his lips twitching dangerously but his face otherwise kept carefully blank. “Who threw the first punch?”

“Gabriel did!” Tali’s friend Geneviève pipes up, looking braver now that it seems for the moment that they’re not going to be yelled at.

“And how did you three respond to that, ladies?”

“We just did what Tali has been teaching us, all the krav maga stuff!” This one comes from the third girl, Dina.

Tony glances back at his daughter, who suddenly looks a little shifty-eyed again. “How long has that been going on?”

Tali shrugs uncomfortably.

“Are you qualified to teach krav maga, Tals?”

“No, but—”

“Do you know how to do it safely so no one gets injured?”

“No, but—”

“Wouldn’t you feel bad if Geneviève or Dina was hurt because you didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Yes! But—”

“But you think it’s still okay to hold krav maga lessons in the park?”

Frustrated, Tali bangs her palm suddenly on the table top, making both of her friends jump. “Yes!” she cries. “Because Ima said that every girl should know how to fight! She’s been teaching me!”

Well, that’s news to Tony. “She has, has she?”

“I just said so, didn’t I!?”

It’s a pretty common consensus around the David-DiNozzos that Tali takes after her father in most things, but… every so often, on days like this, she proves that she’s most certainly her mother’s child. Her temper is usually the thing that gives it away.

“Don’t snap at me, young lady,” Tony responds sternly, but honestly, he wants to laugh again.

“Hmph.” Tali makes her displeasure known with a glower, and she thumps back in her seat.

Letting her stew for a moment, Tony glances back and forth between the other girls. “Did she tell the whole story?”

There appears to be a little silent communication that happens between the two, and then they turn back to him and nod in unison.

“You sure about that?” he questions, his tone warning them not to lie. “You had to think about it for a little too long before you answered.”

Geneviève frowns, considering. “It’s just…” She pauses. “Gabriel plays in the park a lot. He doesn’t play like the other kids, though. He’s mean.”

“Yeah, he’s a bully!” Dina concurs earnestly.

A few feet away, the lock on the front door slides free and the door opens, but the girls have their backs to it and don’t notice. Dina keeps talking. “He pulls my hair sometimes. Gabriel, he…” she wrinkles her nose and says something else that’s definitely not in French, which is what they’ve been speaking from the beginning of this “meeting.”

Over the girls’ heads, Tony sees Ziva’s eyes widen as she walks in, and he knows that she must have understood whatever Dina just said. “Do you say words like that to your own parents, Dina?” his wife asks pointedly.

All three girls jump and turn around guiltily.

“I, um…” Dina stammers. Like Tali, she’s a multilingual daughter of immigrants, and she seems to have forgotten that Ziva speaks many languages—including Russian.

Ziva holds her reproachful expression in place for a beat before relaxing into a small, almost conspiratorial smile. “I will not tell… because I am sure that you are right. I think he did.”

Dina smiles shyly back, surprised, and Ziva joins Tony on his side of the table. It seems that she somehow knows the basics of what went down in the park, so he doesn’t bother to bring her up to speed.

“Well,” Tony continues, drawing the attention of all three ten-year-olds back to himself, “I’m glad that none of you are hurt—and I’m glad Gabriel isn’t, either,” he adds. “But while knowing how to defend yourself is a good thing, you should never resort to violence unless you have no other choice, okay? Three people against one really isn’t a fair fight.”

Dina and Geneviève nod seriously, but Tali just snorts and mutters something under her breath in Hebrew. Whatever it is makes Ziva let out a strangled noise—Tony’s pretty sure that the noise is an aborted laugh. This entire series of events has him feeling the same way, but someone has to be the bad cop here…

So he nudges Tali’s foot under the table with his own. “Okay, Tali-Tee?”

She sighs. “Okay, Dad.”

Feeling like his fatherly duty has been fulfilled, Tony relaxes a little. “Alright. Now that that’s cleared up, you can go play again, but please, Jackie Chan and co., at least try not to start any more wars.”

Tali perks up slightly. “We’re not in trouble?”

“Not this time. But if I ever hear about you initiating any fights, I’m shipping you off to live with Grandpa Gibbs. He’ll set you straight.”

Tali is well aware that Grandpa Gibbs is wrapped around her little finger, so she grins. “Okay! We won’t!”

“Yeah, no fights for us!” Geneviève agrees.

“We won’t punch anyone!” Dina finishes, and without another thought, all three girls have flounced back out the door to return to the park.

Left alone with just Ziva, Tony starts to laugh, scrubbing his face with both hands. “God... and to think I used to hate the fact that I never got to see what you were like as a kid! Now I not only know a baby Ziva, I have to parent her, too!”

Ziva chuckles as well, laying a hand on her husband’s back and drifting it up to squeeze his shoulder fondly. “You handled it well, do not worry.”

Tony lifts his head to look at her, amused. “I wouldn’t have had to handle anything if you hadn’t decided to teach her Israeli martial arts.”

Ziva shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “I think she should be able to protect herself, and besides… it runs in her blood.”

“I guess it does… Lord help me, the only mere mortal in the middle of two born-and-bred ninjas. If Tali’s already picking fights with bullies at ten, I’m not going to survive her growing up.” He rolls his eyes, but he catches Ziva’s hand from his shoulder and squeezes it comfortably. “Anyway, how’d you find out what happened?”

“I ran into Gabriel’s mother on my way into the building.”

“Bet she wasn’t too pleased, was she?”

“No, she was not. But I told her that if my daughter hit her son, she almost certainly had an excellent reason for doing so.”

“You’ve never liked that kid, have you?”

“Not at all.”

Tony snorts. “Well, maybe he’ll stay away from the girls now.”

“It will be to his own detriment if he does not!”

“I’ll say. Tali can be fierce when she puts her mind to it, and Dina and Geneviève… Those three have always egged each other on. You know they get a little crazy when they’re all together—it’s total chaos, more often than not.”

“I am glad that Tali has them.”

“Me, too. They’re good friends to her, even if they’re always getting each other into trouble.” Tony pauses for a second, remembering something. “Hey, what did Dina say?”

Ziva laughs. “To translate it delicately, she said something like ‘that reproductive-organ-of-a-male-walrus deserved to be hit.’”

“I like the creativity… very Russian. And what did Tali say, right there at the end?”

“She was arguing with you… you said that three-against-one is not a fair fight, but she said that is not true here because Gabriel is stupid enough for three people all by himself.”

That really makes Tony laugh, and in the end, all he can think to reply is a thought that he’s already expressed today: “Lord, help... that girl is going to be the death of me.”

He really doesn’t mind, though.

#ncis fanfiction #tiva #tivali #tony dinozzo #ziva david #cynthia writes stuff too #the biscuits #i just know tali and co get into shenanigans like we do #much to the dismay of their parents

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

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The Mummy - The Sahara 1925

I do not own TVD or TO or The Mummy

Dirt and sweat; it was all he could smell.

He supposed it was to be expected when surrounded by two hundred men in the middle of the desert. Their western clothing, while made with lighter materials, was not conducive to the desert heat. Water was strictly rationed so regular bathing was out of the question.

He was certain the men were half mad; driven that way by dehydration. Fear was not helping matters.

The garrison had marched into the desert without thinking of the consequences or possible outcomes. The tracks they had left in the sand were easily seen.

He looked to his left and right to shake his head at the legionnaires scurrying through the ruins that had lost whatever colour they had been.

Men scrambled for cover. They were low on ammunition; this he knew. He also knew they would stand little chance against the sharp weapons of the screaming horde that was now rushing towards them on horseback.

He didn’t know how they stood the heat in their black clothes covering every inch of skin.

Heaving a sigh he adjusted his hat and used his hands to push himself up so he stood on the long wall that bordered the desolate city.

“I knew this was going to be a bad day,” he bit his cheek and watched the approaching horde. They were barely visible in front of the dust cloud they were kicking up, but he estimated they were approximately a thirty minute gallop away.

“Personally I would like to surrender,” Beni glanced at the approaching battle. “Why can’t we just surrender?”

“Give me your bandolier,” Nik disregarded the question and held out his hand. He slung the belt of ammunition over his body so it crossed his own.

“We could run away,” Beni wrung his hands; his thin mustache trembled along with his upper lip. “We could run away right now,” he started waving in the direction of the massive statues that had been buried in the sand, “while we can still make it.”

“Give me your revolver,” Nik held out his hand again, “you’ll never use it anyway.” It was better to take it now when it would be of more use to him. He was right; Beni would never use it.

“Let’s play dead, huh?” Beni pulled out the gun and chucked it at Nik. He held out his hands and smiled like he thought the prospect was fun. “Nobody ever does that anymore.”

“Now go and find me a big stick,” Nik secured the revolver beside his own in his belt. He held out his hands to show the size which was roughly his own height.

“In the desert?” Beni’s eyes drew together in confusion. “What for?”

“So I can tie it to your back,” Nik jumped down from the wall and got in Beni’s face. “You appear to be missing a spine.”

His head snapped around to the thundering horde now a half mile from the city. The rattle of sabres sent a chill down his spine. Shaking his head Nik grabbed Beni’s arm and ran back through the ruins towards the rest of the troupe.

“How’d a guy like you end up in the Legion anyway?” Nik raked a hand through his curly hair and grimaced at the level of grime.

“I got caught robbing a synagogue,” Beni shivered. The ghost of a grin flickered over his thin lips. “Lots of stuff in the holy places: churches, temples, mosques. Who’s guarding them?”

“Alter boys?” Nik saw the greed in his eyes.

“Exactly,” Beni grinned. His fear was momentarily put aside as he explained his life. “I speak seven languages, including Hebrew,” he held up his hand to signify the relevance of this, “so my speciality was synagogues. How about you?” He nodded to Nik. “You kill somebody?”

Beni’s foot landed in a soft patch of sand. He lost his balance and pitched forward accidentally tackling Nik to the ground.

Nik spat the sand from his mouth and gave Beni an annoyed look over his shoulder.

“No,” he coughed up a bit more sand, “but I’m considering it now.” That was how most people wound up in the French Foreign Legion.

“What was it then?” Beni hopped to his feet and ran up a stone ramp behind Nik. “Robbery? Extortion? Kidnapping?”

“None of the above,” Nik spun on his heel at the top to stare out at the horde; he ran backwards for a few moments.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Beni’s cry was full of surprise and curiosity. What other reason was there for entering the Legion?

Nik skidded to a stop when he reached the front line of soldiers. The horde of warriors was approaching quickly now. The hoof beats of the charging horses was nearly deafening.

He turned to the skinny French man and offered a bright smile full of sarcasm; anyone would have called it a kitschy grin.

“I was just looking for a good time.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Beni’s eyes darted to the approaching horde of warriors. They would be there in a matter of moments.

Nik’s eyes cut to the Colonel who chose that moment to make his cowardice known. He had always considered Tristen de Martel a man made of nothing but hot air; he was proven right when the privileged sonofabitch turned tail and ran.

“He just got promoted,” Beni made an attempt at a joke.

“Strange,” Nik steadied his rifle on the low ledge they were using for cover, “I didn’t know you could get promoted above ‘pompous ass’.” The comment had the desired effect of making the other man laugh as well as several of the men surrounding them.

Nik saw the fear then in the shoulders of the men. There was little chance if they all took off and ran, but without clear leadership that was exactly what was happening.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath before barking down the line in his strongest voice, “Steady!”

The men around him steadied their shoulders in the wake of his cry. Courage flowed through them; though how long it would last Nik didn’t know.

Not long apparently. That was all he could think when several more members of the Legion ran off.

“What the bloody hell am I saying?” His voice was muffled by the encroaching horses and loud cries of the murderous horde.

The horrifying voices of the Tuaregs reached the ears of the company; more ran off this time.

Nik rolled his eyes when he saw that Beni was one of them; although the coward had made it farther than he had thought he would.

“What the bloody hell am I doing?” He exhaled before pressing a cartridge between his teeth for easier access. Were these his final moments?

He cocked the gun and prepared to fire. He spit the cartridge into the sand when it split between his clenching teeth. Waiting a beat until he knew the enemy was within range he nodded and gave the order to fire.

Apparently he had been promoted.

There was a loud crash as every rifle went off nearly at once. Dozens of Tuaregs were blown off their horses in the blast, unfortunately, there were dozens more.

The prone legionnaires swiftly reloaded their guns just in time for Nik’s second order to fire.

One good thing about his garrison was that they had impressive accuracy, if not enough guns. Many of the shots found a home in the horde; Tuaregs flew off their mounts and spun through the air to land in the sand.

That was when Nik saw a problem. He caught the gleam of guns just in time to duck out of the way. It was one thing when the desert people were using primitive weapons on horseback, but they gained a decided advantage when given guns.

Gunshots flew over the top of the wall, but not enough of the legion had heard his cry to duck; a third of his men fell to the sand. He might have heard the wailing moans of the dying if not for the approaching horses.

He was on his feet a second later. The time for distance warfare was over; it took less than a minute to figure that out. The entirety of the horde had descended on the ruins; he would be lucky to escape with his life.

The determination took him by surprise. He had thought himself resigned to death when he found the accursed city with his garrison, but evidently he wasn’t done yet.

Nik flipped the rifle in his hands and swung the weapon like a club. His arm reverberated with the force of each collision but he fought through and knocked dozens of horsemen from their mounts; a swift blow to the head was all it took. He didn’t stop to survey the damage he was leaving behind. His arm continued to swing decisively through the air.

Beni saw him through the corner of his eyes as he crawled on his belly through the sand. His full retreat was slowed by the bodies of his fellow soldiers that fell around him; he didn’t hesitate to climb over the bodies though. The sounds of battle lessened as he crawled through the front gate.

Nik threw his rifle down; there was no use for it anymore. He drew his revolvers and started firing shots from each hand while backing towards the stone wall; he wasn’t going down without a fight. If he was going to die he would take as many of them with him as possible.

Tuaregs flopped out of their saddles when his bullets found a home.

Beni continued to crawl. His pace increased, grew nearly frantic, when he spotted the open door to a temple in the rocks. He glanced over his shoulder before jumping to his feet and sprinting for the door; the remainder of the legionnaires were shot or run through behind him.

Nik cursed when he ran out of ammunition. He saw the front gate a few feet behind him before turning and running full tilt through it; he heard at least four horses following him. He sprinted past the many dead, already being swallowed by the sand, and jumped over a toppled column.

His eyes lit up when he spotted Beni attempting to close the door to a temple. He yelled for him to wait and frowned when he saw the small man push the door even harder.

“What are you doing?” He panted and forced his feet to hit the ground harder. The horsemen leaped over the column and began to gain on him. Hooves pounded the sand behind him. “Don’t close that door! Do not close that bloody door!”

Nik clenched his hands into fists when the door was slammed in his face. He didn’t take the time to pound on the sandstone before veering off in another direction.

He weaved through the ruins attempting to make the chase harder as he ran for his life. It did no good, they only got closer. He wasn’t sure if it was his heart or the hooves pounding in his ears. His hands slapped against smooth stone as realized he had backed himself into a corner.

Drawing in a deep breath he spun on his heels to face his attackers. He would not die with a bullet in his back; he would not have a coward’s death.

He might have been exhausted and beaten down, but he would face his killers and look them in the eye. Raising his hand he flipped the four men off.

He was pretty sure it was not his rude gesture that had sent the horses into a wild frenzy. The four animals reared up at the same time; two of the riders fell as well.

Nik stared in shock as the horses screeched, bellowed and snorted before bucking furiously and running away. He was certain the animals thought the devil himself was on their heels. The thrown riders jumped to their feet and raced after their mounts.

Nik stood there with his mouth open before swallowing. It was then that he felt it. A creeping sense of dread as if someone truly evil were looking over his shoulder. Slowly he turned around and backed up. Tipping his head back he blinked at the statue of a man with a jackal’s head; he struggled to remember the name of the ancient god for a moment before it whispered through the back of his mind: Anubis.

The jackal headed god seemed to stare back at him with a clear message in his stone eyes: ‘you don’t belong here’.

Nik swallowed before backing up when the sand began to shift. His gaze fell to the bright ground. It looked like giant snakes were writhing beneath the fine dirt to form lines and shapes.

He didn’t wait around to see the final picture before turning and running away. There was only so much he could take. His bravery had been used up for the day.

He was passing through the gate when the wind moaned loudly; it sounded like the screams of the damned.

++++

Miles above the lost city a group of riders sat silent atop their mounts and watched a man stumble from the ruins; he must have felt their stares because he turned and watched the ridge for several long moments before turning away towards the desert.

The men looked to their leader, a strong man whose eyes shone with wisdom. He shook his head once with a clear message.

His dark eyes watched the man stagger into the desert. With no food or water he wouldn’t make it far enough to ever reveal the location of the city; the sand would claim him before anyone found him.

“Let the desert take him,” his voice was calm, but full of authority, “the creature remains undiscovered.”

Up on the ridge they were deaf to the wails in the city, and blind to the face in the sand.

Tags @rissyrapp20 @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte

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virtual-crisis · 5 years

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⭐Alpha Centauri⭐, Part Nine

Sorry, sorry, and sorry again for this taking so long- writer’s block is a cruel bitch, depression relapses hit hard, college classes suck the free time out of you, job hunting is a hassle, insert more excuses. To be fair, they’re all true.

Side note, of all things tumblr staff’s done since Dec17, what pisses me off most is seeing they’ve removed the little separator lines [whatever the hell you call them] for text posts.

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I didn’t tell Chai about the two. Not yet, anyway. Unlike with Lucifer, I’d let her know soon, but I wanted a more… I guess ‘experienced’ opinion on the matter?

“Can’t say I’ve heard the names before,” mom said when I called, “But they sound Japanese. I don’t mean to generalize, but Japanese ‘Yokai’ are… Strange ones. Be wary about them.”

After getting her thoughts, I had mom get dad in to chat about it. Of course, I took a chance to talk to him about what happened with that angel recently, and he was honest-to-Belphegor shocked that I actually killed the thing. “Don’t tell your mother about that just yet, kiddo. It’s better to let her recover from worrying so much about you.”

“Yeah, I figured… So you heard mom and I talking, right?”

“Yup. Says you ran into a couple Japanese demons?”

“I guess you could call ‘em a yokai couple.”

“Not necessarily, Centauri. Yokai are general spirits and otherworldly beings in Japanese culture. There’s an overlap, but not all yokai are demons, and vice-versa.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. I guess you’ve met some?”

“One or two. A bit of an ‘incident’ with a tanuki comes to mind…”

“Think you told me that story, actually… Let’s not revisit it.”

“Definitely not. Twenty six is too young for you to be getting into that story.”

“And fifteen wasn’t?” I heard mom call over.

“I was half asleep!” he called back.

“You’re always half asleep!”

Dad groaned. “...I’ll get back to you later, Alyssa. Tell Nate and Polly I love ‘em, okay?”

“Gotcha. Love ya, dad.”

“I love you too. Stay safe.”

I clicked off my phone after that. Chialer was unsubtly giggling behind me.

“What, your dad not hug you when you were a kid?” I jeered at her.

“I mean, he and mom nearly got me killed as a toddler*. Can’t really trump that.”

I narrowed my eyes, shrugging. “...Y’know, I’m not gonna ask.”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I tilted my head to each side, hopping up from the couch. I put up a finger after a moment, and dropped right back on it, turning myself to lie across it. “...Y’know, I’mma just turn on youtube…”

“And call Nebb, right?”

“And Polly, duh,” I said, tapping buttons on my phone again as Chialer stepped into her room. I glanced after her to have visual confirmation of her closing the door, then looked to my phone screen. It was the uni’s website, on which I looked for the contact info.

“Doctor Careme’s office, may I take your order?”

I snickered away from the phone. “Ahhh, yo, monsieur ska-pay, I had a question….ssss, about…. Things.”

There was silence for a moment. “...Ah, Centauri. I hope this isn’t gonna be an excuse to skip class—most sloth demons I work with try to pull that one time or another.”

“Oh no, not at all, it was something else,” I said. “I met a couple demons earlier at a Chick-fil-A, and when I described ‘em to my parents, they said they were ‘Yokai’, but that they didn’t know much else. Any thoughts?”

Scape, who’d been nice enough not to interrupt, thought for another moment. “Yokai… Japanese spirits, really. Not necessarily good or evil, heavenly or hellish. Many will take forms of mutated ‘humans’, household objects, or supernatural animals. You and I would fall into the latter category, were we from Japan.”

“Yeah, I figured that much. One of them—the other one’s wife—just randomly decided to show me how to draw up a pentagram to summon her.”

“Is that so? What ‘randomly’ convinced her?” he mused, sounding unconvinced by what I said.

“...Well, it maaaaay be because my mom’s worked with one of the princes in the past, and was granted a covert ‘passphrase’ they can use to alert demons to what they are.”

There was silence for a few moments. “My my my, but you are full of surprises… It’s good your brother decided to take my class.”

I chuckled.

“So what’s the significance here? Pentagrams are practically demons’ phone numbers. If anything, the more provocative element to this is you knowing that incantation.”

“Well, her symbolism on it… It had fire, thunder, shadow… Gluttony, sloth, lust… And a manji in the middle.”

“A manji? Where on the circle?”

“The central pentagon.”

“Hm.”

Scape was silent for a bit after that short hum. I shifted around on the couch slightly.

“‘The Myriad Things’. Whole of creation,” he noted.

“Huh?”

“In Japan it represents the whole of creation. I imagine whoever she is, she’ll become a very powerful demon in time- though if there are only those three sins and elements you mentioned, that’s a long while away.”

I nodded. “...Uh-huh,” I muttered. “Sooooooo uh, quick Q, what kind of ramen will I have to bring for the cooking class?”

Scape went mostly silent, but I could hear him suppress a chuckle. “...I’ll email your brother a catch-up assignment for you. You can poke him to partner with you on it.”

I blinked, staring up at the ceiling. “Uh… Yeah, that sounds… Smart.”

“So, what were their names?”

“Er, Tsuki and Shihai, according to the latter.”

“Right. I’ll look into it. I can tell you’re getting bored…” he murmured.

I coughed. “...Is it that obvious?”

“Yes, yes it is. See you in class.”

I sighed, slumping back on the couch. After a minute of zoning out, I speed-dialed both my siblings at once for a conference call.

“Yo, whaddup, sis?” “Hey sis, what’s up?”

“‘Ayyyy, dad says he loves you two,” I said, before mimicking the clicking sound of hanging up on an analog telephone. Nebula chuckled after a couple moments of silence.

“...I can hear you breathing, Alyssa.” Polaris muttered.

“Shit, am I that audible? Remind me not to play any virtual reality horror games.”

“What were you even calling dad about, anyway?” Nebula said.

“Oh, the usual, mom being busy, checking in to see how things are… Damnit, I forgot to tell him about the weeds.”

Nebula snorted. “Oh wow, you already picked up on that slang?”

“Yeah yeah whatever. So that shit, and I told him about how I met a couple yokai a while ago.”

“An elder demon and two Oriental spirits in one day? Beast, Cen, calm down,” Polaris quipped. “We get it, you’re high on adrenaline from surviving an angel’s assault—But you’re gonna kill yourself sticking to that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh shut up, Polly, it was happenstance. Chai and I were harassing the customers and employees with that *thing* we do from time to time—”

“Isn’t doing that in public a crime?”

“Oh my Beast, Nebb, don’t you dare,” Polaris and I said in unison, before—”Jinx! Double-jinx! Triple-jinx!”

“External jinx! Now you both owe me bottles of vodka!”

I put a hand to my face. “Nebb, that’s not how it works…”

“So what happened? How’d you meet them?”

“Well it’s not very subtle to have an Asian couple in a lake of white people; worse yet, they were the only ones not glaring at us in disgust. You’d think that’d make them the only inconspicuous ones, but I could tell they weren’t paying any attention to us.”

“You sure they weren’t just innocent passers-through?”

“The guy tried to pull that ‘no English’ shit even though they came to an English speaking restaurant in an English speaking country. Plus I pulled that line mom taught us, and he caved instantly.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I honestly thought she was bullshitting us with that,” Polaris mused.

“She learned it from Asmodeus! It’s in old Hebrew! How would that be BS?” I spat, slightly annoyed.

“Whatever. So he just outed his wife? You said it was two.”

“Oh no, she was more open about it than him. Caught her outside smoking, and when I said the line to her, she straight up drew her summoning sigil for me. The bitch has a manji in the middle of her pentagram.”

“A what?”

“The backwards fucking swastika, guys. She’s like, some super ultra powerful demon or something—or at least she’s gonna be. Isn’t that cool?”

“Bit frightening, really.”

“Or maybe she’s trying to bait you.”

I blinked. That was a fair point: for all I knew, she could’ve been preying on whatever gullibility I had, planning to have me spawn some angry, sealed-up diablo that’d slaughter me as a start of a planetwide rampage.

“Yo, you there?” Nebb asked.

“Yeah, I was waiting on—”

“I know, I know, I meant Cen.”

“Oh beast, sorry, zoned out a bit there,” I said. “I mean, shit, there could’ve been some weird deception shit behind it, but it seemed legit to me. Mom and dad weren’t all that suspicious, just surprised, and when I told Scape, he was interested to hear more.”

“He didn’t mention that in the makeup assignment he sent me.”

I smacked a palm on my forehead. “Ugh, right, that. What’s he want?”

“Crème brûlée. Wants us to film our process making it for evidence that we were indeed the ones to do so, then bring it to him for grading.”

“...Lemme guess…”

“Heh. Eating it.”

“Dunno what I expected from a gluttony demon,” Polaris quipped.

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

Things had finally calmed down a bit, by the look of it. After we finished chatting, Nebb came over and locked himself in the dorm with me, before taking on his real form. Much to my dismay, I couldn’t be my mini-Mothra self even though he could, since he was using his built-in webcam to record the assignment—he wasn’t exactly filming a video pinup of himself, so despite Scape needing the video logged in the uni’s network, he could get away with it. Chialer came out from her nap as the ingredients’ smell wafted out of the kitchen, and we finally convinced her to come along for Careme’s Culinary Class 3425 at the threat of not getting two fellow gluttony demons making food she could call dibs on.

“Great, the armored tick gets to be in bug form and I still can’t even slip into my hazmat suit.”

“Tyler, the fuck, I’m gonna have to restart the recording now.”

“Wouldn’t happen if you brought a regular camera.”

Pretty much the usual with her. Petty and mean-spirited, but she could be real sweet and friendly too. Sometimes.

“Yo are we gonna start Kitchen Nightmares or what?” I quipped.

Given my nature, I was obligated to foot a lot of the tedious parts of the recipe. Chialer groaned about Nebula sitting back and not getting directly involved, but he was giving the instructions we’d be clueless without. Chialer herself got to handle the actually dangerous equipment like knives, stoven and the blowtorch Nebula bought, since I had a track record of being clumsy—and more recently, overzealous with electronic appliances.

Once we were done, I thanked myself for my extra pair of arms lending their muscle to my normal two when in human form, as I had to push both back from devouring the finished product, each having an unsurprising lapse in restraint as they discussed how it looked (which wasn’t even all that amazing, it was just alright).

But then... there was a knock on the door?

“Fucking—ugh...” Nebb grumbled, fumbling with his mechanisms before quickly changing back into human form.

“Who the—“ I looked over to Chai, grimacing as she’d taken the opportunity to nab the dessert. “...Beast, I’ll get it.”

When I opened the dorm’s door, outside was... The same jock I’d gotten a date with a few weeks ago, hands behind his back. I smiled awkwardly.

“Ah, hey Alyssa, it’s me, Bobby. I know it’s been a while, and last time was, ah, well....”

I coughed awkwardly. “Yeah...?”

He shrugged, showing a couple gift cards for a dine-in restaurant. “Maybe we could... y’know, try another date?”

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BOB FROM ACCOUNTING?” Chialer shouted from the kitchen.

I covered my face with both hands. “Oh for fuck’s sake...” I peeked out between my fingers to see him looking in the direction of the kitchen uncomfortably. “I mean, yeah, I’m alright with that, sure...”

He nodded quickly, looking back to me. “Oh—great! I mean, uh... Yeah, I’ll see you... there?” he said, holding out one of the gift cards. Holy FUCK, each one was for a hundred dollars for one of the best restaurants in the city! “What time and day would work for you?”

I blinked a couple times, snapping out of gawking at the card. “Fuck—I uh, yeah, Friday, eight or nine? I dunno, my little bro’s always whining for me to help him with stuff on the weekends...?”

“I’M NOT THREE!” Nebb shouted.

I put a hand to my forehead. “...Ugh, I’ll... see you there?”

Bob nodded. “Ah, yeah, eight works for me.” he said, turning to walk back down the hall while I closed the door.

Chialer… was now in her skunk form. I glared. “Fuck’s sake Chai, he could’ve still been here.”

“I know what footsteps sound like. I thought you told him to look for someone else?”

I put my hands up. “He’s a decent guy, it’s been a while, he could’ve spent time asking around with other girls and people forget shit. Must you jeer at him from the other side of a wall?”

Nebula was brushing himself off, checking the fuel on the blowtorch as he stepped into the main room. “Hey, at least she didn’t eat our assignment.”

“Oh bullshit, you were gonna do it if I didn’t.”

At this point, I just slipped into my room and slumped on the bed. Out cold, too sore for a rampage.

#Alpha Centauri

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pippiessweathogs · 6 years

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Welcome Back Kotter fanfiction Show Me Yours part 2

Title: Show Me Yours

Fandom: Welcome Back, Kotter

Pairing: Vinnie/Rosalie

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Set during the episode “Classroom Marriage”, Rosalie flashes Vinnie in the Kotter’s bathroom. When Vinnie tries to get more from her, she proposes a deal with him.

Part two

Walking along the sidewalk amongst the busy Brooklyn street, the students headed in different directions towards their homes. Vinnie quickened his stride, closing his trench coat around his waist, and looked up as he spied Rosalie. Catching up with her, he went up behind her and placed his hands on her hips. When he did this, she jumped with a startled shriek, and whipped around, ready to strike at her assailant. Avoiding being hit, Vinnie jumped back with both hands in the air by his head.

“Hotsie! Hotsie it’s me!”

“Oh Vinnie! I’m sorry about that.”

“No, sorry I surprised you like that.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat and grinned a little. “Glad I was able to catch up with you. I kinda wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

They both started walking forward, with Vinnie right by her side. Vinnie had a brief awkward moment with his hands as he tried to decide what to do with them; he did not know whether to place one on Rosalie’s back or to keep them tucked in his pockets.

“Well it’s just that, uh, well I…” He turned to her and stopped walking, looking at her in frustration. “Aw come on, Hotsie! You showed me your tits and let me kiss you. Then you stop in the middle of making out with me!”

She looked at him, giving her hair a small toss. “Yeah, what’s your point?”

“My point?” He huffed. “My point is…” He pointed at her before placing his hands on his hips. “Why can’t we finish what we started?”

“What? Right here on the street?”

Vinnie snickered “Well, no, not here. We could go somewhere else where nobody will see us.”

“I ain’t going with you to make out behind the billboards on 84th street.” She looked at him and smiled. “Alright, Vinnie. I’ll go somewhere to make out with you.” He smiled, ready to respond, but she cut him off. “But, before I do that, you gotta do something for me.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll make a deal with you. Only if you do this, then I will make out with you.”

He smirked. “Yeah? Alright, what’s the deal?”

“Since I showed you my tits… you gotta show me yours.”

“Hotsie,” His face fell and he shook his head. “Hotsie I think I’m gonna have trouble doing that. I mean I ain’t got no tits to show ya.”

She laughed. “No, Vinnie. You know what I mean.”

Vinnie hesitated for a moment, appearing to think over what she said. “Alright, fine. It’s a deal.”

“Great.” She shook his hand. “But, uh,” They started walking again. “Of course it can’t happen tonight. Maybe tomorrow after school sometime.”

He nodded “Oh sure. That works.”

She grinned. “Great.” They continued walking for a few steps. “Oh and uh, since we’re already walking together, you might as well walk me home.”

“Ok. I can do that. But I ain’t showing you on the way.”

Rosalie laughed and playfully pushed him away from her.

~~~~~~

As the students left the classroom, laughing and commenting over the lesson on marriage that Gabe displayed before them. They all knew that the demonstration was a sneaky way to get Freddie and Vernajean to reconsider getting married. When it worked, they were all grateful. S they gathered around their lockers, Vinnie approached Epstein, still laughing,

“Man, Epstein, I gotta tell ya. That gibberish you were singin’ during that fake wedding ceremony; that was hilarious! How’d you come up with that?”

“What gibberish? Barbarino, that was Hebrew.”

“Whatever it was, it was hilarious. How’d you know to do that?”

“Are you kidding me? As big as my family is, I’ve been dragged to more weddings than I can count. So many that I could perform a ceremony at any time straight from memory. What you saw in the classroom was the condensed version.”

Vinnie laughed and placed a hand on Epstein’s shoulder. “I now pronounce you, Father Epstein.”

“Barbarino, I’m a Jew so that would make me a Rabbi, not a Priest.”

“Oh yeah. Well then I now pronounce you Rabbi Epstein.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Horshack walked up to them, laughing. He continued laughing as he walked by, causing them to crack smiles as they shook their heads with amusement. Walking hand-in-hand, Freddie and Vernajean also walked past them, each making snarky remarks. Returning a remark of his own, Epstein then followed them down the hallway as they each headed to their next class.

Once they were alone in the hallway, Vinnie grinned at Rosalie before strolling over to her. he stood next to her, and placed a hand on the locker behind her head.

“So, Hotsie, last night.” His grin spread. “Last night sure was somethin’. You and me in the Kotter’s bathroom.”

She nodded. “I know what happened, Vinnie. I was there, remember?” She laughed.

“Yeah I know.” He grinned, looking into her eyes. “Why don’t we continue that now? We both know we’d have a lot of fun.”

Shaking her head, she laughed and moved away from him. ‘Vinnie don’t you remember the deal we made last night?”

“So you mean you’re actually sticking to that?”

“Of course. What kind of girl do you think I am, Vinnie?”

“Well right now I’m thinkin’ you ain’t nothin’ but a big tease.”

“Maybe I am. But maybe I ain’t. Guess you’ll find out after school. Behind the brick wall.”

“The graffiti wall?” Rosalie nodded at him. He hesitated, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Alright. I’ll stick to the deal and meet you there.”

She grinned and turned to walk down the hall. “Can’t wait.”

As Rosalie walked away, Vinnie stood there, looking at the floor. He was torn between feeling discouraged and excited. With a slight grin and nod of his head, he then turned down the hallway right on time for the tardy bell to ring.

~~~~~~

Vinnie stood outside the school. In front of him was a graffiti covered brick wall that seemed completely out of place. Directly behind him was the wall of the school building. He exhaled slowly as he focused on the wall, trying not to seem anxious. Leaning against the building, he closed his eyes, mentally hoping Rosalie would not show up. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Rosalie smiling as she approached him.

“Oh you are here, Vinnie. I was thinking you were gonna back out.”

“Ok, ok, you’re here. Let’s get this over with.” He placed his hands at the top of his pants and then looked at her. “Wait. There ain’t nobody else around, is there? ‘Cause I ain’t intending on showing nobody but you.”

“Don’t worry, Vinnie. I checked and nobody else is around.”

He nodded “Ok.” He started unfastening his pants, but Rosalie interrupted him with a small snicker.

“What? You’re going to just whip it out just like that?”

“Do you want me to do this, or not?”

“Ok, ok. Go ahead.” She grinned.

Hesitating, Vinnie looked at her before slowly unzipping his pants. He then nodded his head before gripping the top of his pants in his hands. Deciding to get it over with, he shoved his pants and underwear down, exposing himself completely to her. Rosalie laughed before glancing behind here, waving someone over to them.

“Hey guys, quick!”

Suddenly, with Vernajean leading them, the other three guys jumped around the corner, laughing. Vernajean, holding a Polaroid camera, immediately started taking pictures of Vinnie, before he could react to anything. While trying to dodge the camera, Vinnie quickly turned away and pulled up his pants. As he did this, Epstein turned to Freddie with a smirk, holding out one hand, palm side up. Frowning, Freddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill and then slipped it into Epstein’s palm.

When Vinnie turned back around to face everybody, he showed them how upset he was. He scowled, waving his arms in front of him.

“Alright, alright! That’s enough!” He stated, getting everyone to stop laughing. He turned his attention onto Rosalie. “You set me up!”

“OF course I did, Vinnie.” She snickered

“Why would you do that? This ain’t funny!”

Freddie grinned, showing off his teeth. “It’s funny to us.”

Vinnie folded his arms across his chest, frowning at Rosalie. “You weren’t ever gonna make out with me, were you?”

“What? And miss all this fun?”

Shaking his head, Vinnie walked away without saying a word to anyone. The others laughed until he was out of sight. Once they knew he was gone, they all looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

“I think you really upset him, Rosalie.” Vernajean said

“Yeah. Do you think he’ll ever come back?” Horshack asked, looking in the direction Vinnie went.

“He’ll cool down.” Said Freddie “When he does, he’ll come back and realize how funny this was.”

Rosalie looked at them with a slight frown. “And if he doesn’t think it’s funny, what then?”

“Well look at the bright side.” Epstein stepped forward and picked up the pictures that fell from the camera. “We got these pictures to remember the moment.”

The others came around Epstein, looking at the pictures in his hand. Then, as they started to walk away, they started laughing together over the pictures.

#Welcome Back Kotter #fanfiction #WBK fanfiction #Kotter fics #Show Me Yours

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judememories · 6 years

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#001 CHARACTER SHEET:

Full Name: Jude Bellamy Hayward Meaning of Name: Jude means ‘praise’ in Hebrew and was chosen by his parents as an ironic joke about the fact that they’re adamantly Atheist. Nickname: Judas. Birth Date: November 29th, 1994. Astrological Sign and Details: Sagittarius. Known as the most independent and flighty of the star signs, as well as being philosophically geared. Birth Place: Saint Francis Memorial Hospital, San Francisco. Age: 23.

Nationality: American. Race: White. Hair Color: Brown. Hair Style: Short, messy, always in his eyes or mussed up. Distinct Features of Face: Full lips and prominently defined jawline. Glasses or Contacts: Wears glasses when he’s reading, in spite of the fact that he despises them. They’re old fashioned and vintage looking to keep up his Indie Soft Boy aesthetic. Eye Color: Hazel. Skin Tone: Fair. Scars or Distinguishing Marks: A thin scar, predominantly hidden, that laces through his left eyebrow from an ill healed split he got there when he was fifteen. He got into a fight with a boy being pushy to a drunk girl at a party and since he was much bigger than Jude, it was a quick and ugly loss. He ended up having his head smacked into a kitchen sink and needing stitches. He also has a cigarette burn on his arm from when a drunken poet laureate staying at his parents place disagreed with Jude’s take on his recently published anthology. Jude had to go and knock on the neighbouring apartment door in the building and sleep on a pull out sofa because he was too scared to stay at home alone again with him around when he’d been drinking. Disabilities: None. Build or Body Type: Broad shoulders, somewhat gangly. He has subtly defined muscles in his arms from years of playing guitar but nothing too obnoxious or over the top. Height: 6″1′. Weight: 170 lbs. Speech Patterns: Talks reasonably slowly, mostly as a result of being high and sleep deprived a lot of the time, therefore it takes him a while to string his thoughts together. Tag Words: Says “uh” and “you know” a lot. Also refers to most people, gender irrelevant, as “man” or “handsome”. Gestures: Rubs at his jaw a lot when he’s sketching or trying to think of something. He also frequently nods and chews at the corner of his thumbnail.

FAMILY AND CHILDHOOD

Mother: Bethany Hayward. Father: Jack Hayward. Mother’s Occupation: Trust fund baby, currently co-owns an art gallery with her husband that she travels the world to buy pieces for. Father’s Occupation: Amateur photographer. He used to be a bartender to support his art and has had four collections of his photos showcased in popular galleries. Ever since he met and fell in love with Bethany, he gave up working as a bartender and pursued the arts full time, opening up a gallery using her parents money. Family Finances: Reasonably wealthy but not in the millions by any means. Brothers: None. Sisters: None. Other Close Family: Jude has a handful of cousins he knows only vaguely, although he’s actually close with Elias Elliot. Best Friend: Teddy Lawrence. Other Friends: Blake Knox, Ophelia Knox, Gabe Leitner, Frankie Vigo, Wesley Costa, Imogen Bauer, Anastasia Costa, Jesse Harmon, Lana Jameson. Enemies: None. Pets: None. Home Life During Childhood: Jude was always treated like a distant acquaintance growing up rather than a child. His parents would leave him for weeks on end to live in their loft apartment alone, surrounded by numerous mid thirties adults all smoking pot and using the place as a glorified sort of squatter den. He grew up seeing and hearing things that no child should particularly have to, always walking in on drunken hook-ups and hearing lewd and suggestive comments that made him feel uncomfortable. He gets on with his parents in the respect that he can always make them laugh and vice versa, but they don’t particularly care about what he gets up to or how he’s doing. He’s merely a conversational piece and a tick off a checklist, a failed science experiment that they long since grew bored of. What Did His, Her or Their Bedroom Look Like: Mostly bare. Jude was too paranoid to keep anything of sentimental value in his room because of how many strangers were always sleeping in his loft and nosing around in there. He had a few sketches tacked up onto the wall above his bed with scotch tape and a lock box beneath it that he kept his actual valuables in. Very minimal. Very impersonal. To Jude, his house had never once looked or felt like a home. Any Sports or Clubs: He used to be on a baseball team until he got drunk one night and was spotted using his bat to beat up a dingy Volkswagen parked just off school campus belonging to one of his parent’s friends. She was actually a teacher’s assistant at the school and therefore they took it extremely seriously. He got pulled from the team and put in detention for six weeks. Nobody ever asked why he did it. Schooling: He went to high school in downtown San Francisco before moving to New York in order to pursue his higher education. Favorite Subject: A tie between art and music. Popular or Loner: Unwillingly and begrudgingly popular. He tries his best to shake people and can never seem to manage it. Important Experiences or Events: The second time he had sex, it was with his girlfriend of the time at sixteen. He only got maybe two minutes through until he started having an anxiety attack, something that he still finds hideously embarrassing to recall, even to this day. She’d insisted that it was fine, that she didn’t mind and he’d blamed it on the fact that he’d smoked two joints prior to it and it had triggered some sort of weird reaction. The fact that there might still be some sort of underlying issue and baggage there from his first time dare’n't even cross his mind. Health Problems: Anxiety, insomnia and severe depression. Religion and beliefs: Atheist.

PERSONAL

Bad Habits: Smoking weed instead of coping with his problems in a healthy and rational manner, repressing things rather than confronting them, trying to save everyone. Good Habits: Writing out odd snippets of poem lines on napkins when he’s bored in restaurants and leaving them for the waiters to find and blink at in confusion, keeping a secret sketchbook where he draws the profiles of all his favourite people, investing his all into people in spite of how many times he’s been hurt before. Best Characteristic: His dry and sometimes absurd sense of humour. Worst Characteristic: His proneness to acting pretentious or condescending when someone has different interests to his. Worst Memory: At a small party when he was sixteen, they decided to go around in a circle and play truth or dare. He chose truth and everyone waited with baited breath for someone to cook up the kind of question that would get even Jude Hayward, master of playing it cool, squirming with embarrassment. “Are you a virgin? If not, how’d you lose it?” A dozen crinkle cornered eyes had all curiously blinked back at him mid broad grins as he offered a limp shrug, face glazed over with something that looked like an oddly forced attempt at pride. It was only after he’d told them and the room had fallen quiet that he realised it perhaps wasn’t quite something to be proud of, but for parents to anxiously whisper in the corner over and worriedly shake their heads. The fact that it had been with his mother’s best friend while she was out of town had never truly struck him as strange until he saw the dawning horror on all of those faces staring back at him. Needless to say, he never went to one of their parties or mentioned it to anyone ever again. Best Memory: The old lady down the hall from his parent’s loft used to make homemade cherry pie and cut him a slither to eat after school. One sun soaked afternoon they sat in front of her dingy television set, chomping silently during a leaked new episode of Mad Men, and when she ruffled his hair after he finished in a record breaking five minutes, he found himself pretending and believing for those set few seconds that she was actually his family. Proud of: His artwork. Embarrassed by: Ever speaking honestly about his emotions. Driving Style: Fairly regulation. Bumps up onto the sidewalk a lot, chuckles under his breath and calmly recites the Harry Potter floating head that says “it’s gonna be a bumpy ride” in a Jamaican accent. Strong Points: Charismatic, witty, laid-back, easygoing, independent and undemanding. Temperament: Fairly neutral unless you give him reason not to be. Weakness: People that seem just as sad and lonely as he is deep down. Fears: Being left alone in a room with strangers, eating bad chicken and getting salmonella, heights. Phobias: Moths and horses. Secrets: How bad his relationship with his parents actually is. How he lost his virginity. Regrets: Not trying harder to grow into someone his parents would find interesting enough to stay. Feels Vulnerable When: People notice how often he pretends to be something he isn’t. Pet Peeves: Chart music, chino pants, modern art. Sexuality: Heterosexual. He tried to experiment once and just couldn’t get into it. Exercise Routine: None in particular. Day or Night Person: Night. Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert. Optimist or Pessimist: Pessimist.

LIKES AND PREFERENCES

Music: Indie rock, mod rock -- any shade of rock, really. He loves The Smiths and any kind of broody sad boy music, too. Books: Anything classic and old, he loves. He’s a huge Kerouac fan as well as Kurt Vonnegut and Chuck Palahniuk. Foods: Hates to admit it but he loves Chipotle. He also loves sushi and any kind of noodle soup. Drinks: He tends to mainly drink beer or cider but most of the time at parties he’ll just drink whatever someone gives to him. He isn’t fussy. Animals: Doesn’t care much about any of them. He’s pretty neutral. Sports: N/A. Social Issues: Democrat. Walked in the women’s march and got black out drunk before waking up on a public bench with a pair of bachelorette party antlers where they’re dick themed instead of deer. Favorite Saying: “In the land of gods and monsters I was a fella. Lookin’ to just hang out.” Color: Blue. Clothing: Wears a lot of thrifted shirts over thin white t-shirts. Dr. Martens and cuffed jeans. Almost always has some sort of charcoal smudge on his sleeve. Band t-shirts and t-shirts with a scan of obscure and unknown artworks also feature heavily in his wardrobe. Games: Once he played Red Dead Redemption for three days straight and the first time he tried mushrooms, he hallucinated that he was riding along on a donkey besides a river with a strand of wheat chewed in his mouth like a lone ranger on the run from the law. In reality he was just sat on a swing at the local park. Websites: Vine and PornHub. TV Shows: Breaking Bad and Mad Men. Movies: American Beauty and Trainspotting. Greatest Want: To flee civilisation and abandon his responsibilities by moving to a remote goat farm in Cambodia. Greatest Need: Therapy.

LIFESTYLE

Home: Currently lives in college dormitories. Household furnishings: Very minimal. Pinstriped duvet and an obnoxiously bright desk lamp for when he wants to do his sketches there. He has stacks of lined up, overflowing sketchbooks by the wall beneath his window and he’s plonked a cushion onto the sill so he can sit there and draw while he smokes some mornings. That aside, the only other stand out piece of furniture is his acoustic guitar. Favorite Possession: His oil paints. They were a departing gift from his elderly neighbour before he moved to Rochester. She saved up for months to afford them and they mean a great deal to him, sentimentally. Significant Other Before: He’s had three ex-girlfriends. His first meant a lot to him and he was head-over-heels in love with her, but the second was more of a fling to get over the one before her. His most recent was Saskia Cohen, who he still hasn’t managed to get over just yet, particularly so given that she cheated on him and the breakup was hideously messy. Children: N/A. Relationship with Family: He texts them every so often and receives an updated photo from their travels. It’s very impersonal and more like having a long distance pen pal than a family. Car: None. Pets: None. Career: Student. Salary: N/A. Other Income: N/A. Dream Career: Photographic journalist. Love Life: A board certified mess. Sexual Turn Ons: Dirty talk that is subtle and not over-the-top, prolonged foreplay, confidence. Sexual Turn Offs: Pushiness, foot fetishists, people who try too hard to sound appealing. Hobbies: Drawing, reading up on philosophical theory, collecting dollar store vinyls from thrift shops, practising his guitar, writing short stories and poems that he deletes after reading them back. Guilty Pleasure: Watching Spanish soap operas and making up what they’re saying as he goes along. Almost always occurs when he’s hideously high. Talents or Skills: Drawing, photography, playing guitar. Intelligence Level: Jude has an impressively high IQ, although this isn’t something he ever boasts about or makes a point of asserting.

#lockwoodtask001 #lockwood:points #statutory rape tw #rape tw #not explicitly bt its alluded to #abuse tw #this prob has typos bt its Late here ok forgiv me

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biofunmy · 5 years

Text

A Song in His Heart. It Was for Her.

When he feels the spirit, Isaiah Rothstein bursts into song. He felt it on his first date with Leah Gottfried in early 2018. They were in Bryant Park and bird droppings landed in his food, and so he then took her to the top of Rockefeller Center. Standing next to Ms. Gottfried there, he felt the need to do more than just comment on the view of Manhattan.

“I think in musical language sometimes,” he said. “If this moment were a song, what it would be? And then I’ll just play. People usually jive on it I think.”

She jived on it, though she does not quite remember the lyrics: “It was something about all the miles of the city that he saw,” she said. “Something about miles.”

Mr. Rothstein, 30, and Ms. Gottfried, 28, are a modern Orthodox power couple. He is the rapping, singing frontman of Zayah and a rabbi for Hazon in New York, which calls itself the Jewish lab for sustainability. He was one of Jewish Week’s 36 under 36 for 2019, which applauded his ambition to “follow in the footsteps of the ‘Hamilton’ creator Lin-Manuel Miranda.” Mr. Rothstein is working on a musical about Queen Esther, the figure of legend who foiled a genocide of the Jewish people.

But Mr. Rothstein is a C-lister when compared with Ms. Gottfried, a child actor who had her first agent when she was 11 and is frequently featured in Jewish publications including Kveller.com and Jewess Magazine. Her web series “Soon By You,” reminds its viewers of an Orthodox take on “Friends.”

“Soon By You” makes liberal use of Ms. Gottfried’s own dating experiences. It features a lot of confused men.

“I’ve had guys be really puzzled about filmmaking in general and with a woman wanting to be a filmmaker and how does that work with a family?” said Ms. Gottfried, who runs her own production company. “Or they pitch me their own idea for movies. That has happened so many times. So many of my dates were like bad pitch meetings that I didn’t sign up for.”

Mr. Rothstein didn’t want to one-up Ms. Gottfried; he wanted to impress her. For their third date, he drove from Crown Heights, Brooklyn, to Passaic, N.J., where she was living at the time, in the middle of a snowstorm. Nothing was open, except for a Dunkin’ Donuts, so the two spent hours there, in song (the radio played the Dixie Chicks cover of “Landslide,” prompting a singalong) and in silence.

“There was a stillness,” Mr. Rothstein said, “which is funny for me because I talk a lot.”

He dropped her home at 1 a.m., and by the time he arrived in Brooklyn two hours later, he knew he was in trouble: He really cared about her.

Though Mr. Rothstein is (very) extroverted, he does not like feeling emotionally exposed. He grew up in Monsey, N.Y., feeling different from his peers, as a white-passing member of one of the few multiracial families in town. He was often asked if his mother, who is black, was his nanny, and was told he wasn’t a real Jew. School days would often end in fistfights.

Those experiences pushed Mr. Rothstein to grapple with his Jewish identity as he grew older. He ended up staffing seven separate birthright trips to Israel. By the last few, he had come to realize that he had a passion for “creating positive Jewish experiences for people.” He decided to become a rabbi.

Ms. Gottfried grew up blocks away from Mr. Rothstein in Monsey, but did not meet him until late 2017. She was raised ultra-Orthodox for the first five years of her life, until her parents divorced and her mother transitioned to modern Orthodox, which seeks a balance between Jewish tradition and the modern world.

Her mother, Esther Litchfield-Fink, and she, are “like, ‘Gilmore Girls’ level close,” Ms. Gottfried said, referring to the Amy Sherman Palladino show about a mother and daughter who are best friends. Ms. Gottfried and Ms. Litchfield-Fink love all of Ms. Palladino’s shows including “Bunheads” and, of course, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

“For awhile she wanted me to be a lawyer I think because I was so argumentative as a kid,” Ms. Gottfried said. “But she also very much supported my career decisions. Sometimes she doesn’t like how I dress.” (Ms. Litchfield-Fink thinks her daughter’s outfits could stand to be a little more provocative.)

Others in Ms. Gottfried’s community growing up were put off by her chutzpah, and her interest in performing. It took her a long time, she said, to find Jews with whom she could feel completely comfortable being herself. One space that felt particularly right was Hevria, an online community of creative Jews. In November 2017, Ms. Gottfried and Mr. Rothstein attended one of the group’s open-mic nights in Crown Heights, where they met. A month later, Ms. Gottfried read a poem at a Hevria event and afterward, Mr. Rothstein messaged her on Facebook and asked for a copy.

They ran into each other again a few months later at a Jewish conference in Princeton, N.J., where they both gave presentations about their backgrounds; each attended the other’s. Toward the end of the weekend, he asked her out. They already knew so much about each other that small talk barely felt necessary.

By the time, Ms. Gottfried’s mother met Mr. Rothstein, at Leah’s 27th birthday party in April 2018, the relationship had accelerated. In August, the couple posted a music video they had made together (she directed, he starred) to YouTube.

Last Thanksgiving, he proposed. Via song, of course.

Ms. Litchfield-Fink knew Mr. Rothstein was the man for her daughter, she said, when Ms. Gottfried told her he was the right person.

“I trust her judgment 100 percent so I knew that no matter what I thought it was up to her and it had to come from her,” she said.

Their engagement lasted six and a half months. Their secular friends thought that was pretty short. Their Orthodox relatives questioned why it was taking so long.

But on June 16, a diverse group of Jews convened on Oz Farm in Saugerties, N.Y., where rain had turned the fields to mud, leading to a celebration that was as improvisational and joyous as one of Mr. Rothstein’s songs. The marriage was celebrated by a Judaism of dark robes and golden rompers, of flower crowns and shtreimels (fur hats), of side curls and hair dyed scarlet, and of unceasing music.

“This is like a hipster Jewish mecca,” said Chavie Lieber, a journalist for Business of Fashion and one of Mr. Rothstein’s oldest friends. As she explained what about the wedding was traditional and what was not, her husband, Yoni Stokar, walked over and was asked to guess how many rabbis he thought were in attendance.

“Thirty-five,” he said.

“Self-identified rabbis or actually ordained rabbis?” Ms. Lieber asked.

The formal proceedings began with Rabbi Dovid’l Weinberg conducting the bedeken ceremony, as Mr. Rothstein and his guests celebrated the wedding to come, slowly making their way over to where Ms. Gottfried sat with her own guests. The traditional veiling ceremony began, which most of the guests watched through their phones. The groom was flanked by Hasidim in formal wear. A friend of Mr. Rothstein’s, Zach Mayer, played a soprano saxophone as the men swayed and sang.

“I met my girlfriend after Isaiah and I started singing together,” Mr. Mayer said. “I feel like he just radiates love.”

There was a lull after the bedeken, as the band got in place and the more observant attendees paused to observe the afternoon prayer. Ms. Gottfried and her mother disappeared. Mr. Rothstein, clean-shaven and dressed all in white, was flanked by a bearlike South African Jew, Folli Tessler, who served as his shomer, or watchman. Mr. Rothstein excused himself to speak to his mother, Tanya Rothstein, who was dressed in gold.

“Traditionally there was a concept that on the day of a person’s wedding or two days before, they would have someone watch the groom because there was a tradition of persecution before wedding days and exciting things,” Mr. Tessler explained, visibly nervous to be separated from his charge.

The ceremony began, with the band (including Mr. Stokar) leading. Traditional Hebrew songs were paired with Disney melodies from “The Lion King” and “Mulan.” Mr. Rothstein, standing under the huppah, was handed a guitar. “New age,” one guest muttered. “Right, right,” her companion responded.

He started singing, and Ms. Gottfried walked in. She moved toward the huppah and the mothers led her in a circle around Mr. Rothstein. Prayers were offered. As is traditional, men read seven blessings; as is not, they were accompanied by women, who read seven intentions for the marriage.

Babies were introduced to one another. Multiple shofars, or ram’s horns, blew. Guests declined to remain in their seats, and crowded close to the huppah. After about 45 minutes, Ms. Gottfried, not Mr. Rothstein, punctuated the ceremony by smashing a glass. The bride and groom retreated into solitude with several witnesses. Everyone waited. “I’m starving,” Ms. Gottfried said. Finally, they emerged on horseback.

There was wild, gender-segregated dancing and the dinner, where Ms. Gottfried took the microphone.

“Isaiah’s always performing for me, singing and rapping,” she said. “I thought I would perform for you for once.” A drumbeat started, and Ms. Gottfried began to rap about a boy with a guitar who strummed and strummed his way into her heart.

ON THIS DAY

When June 16, 2019

Where Oz Farm, an events space, in Saugerties, N.Y.

Stormy Weather It rained incessantly the day of the wedding, which forced the proceedings inside. The bathrooms, in two trailers outside the barn, were filled with men changing mud-coated sneakers into dress shoes.

Divine Yenta Various people at the wedding, including Mr. Rothstein’s older brother J.R. Rothstein, claimed some responsibility for having introduced the two. The couple had thought this might happen. “People always say like, ‘How’d you meet, were you set up?’ and I very much feel like God orchestrated the entire thing,” the bride said. The groom agreed. “Whenever people try to take credit for setting us up,” he said shaking his head. “We set ourselves up and God set us up. You didn’t set us up. Thank you.”

Roving Shofar The ram’s horn, traditionally blown to celebrate the Jewish New Year, made several appearances during the wedding ceremony, traveling around the room. Its sound is similar to that of a swan whooping with a constricted windpipe.

Breaking the Glass The couple decided, as a gesture of inclusivity, to task Ms. Gottfried with stomping on the wineglass, traditionally a task for the groom. She looked apprehensive but determined, as she lifted her foot and brought it down hard. “I did it!” she shouted into her husband’s ear.

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