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superbdonutpoetry · 27 days

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The Paradox of Having Too Much Freedom in This World

What generally is the outcome of having too much freedom and too many privileges in this world? A sense of entitlement, carelessness, self-centredness, the need for instant gratification, obstructiveness, a lack of gratitude and respect, brashness, arrogance and immaturity. ⬆️ Talk about being oppressed by one’s own freedom, and therein lies the paradox. With freedom comes responsibility — it…

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#Consequences #Freedom #Liberty in Christ #Love for your neighbour

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astranauticus · 2 months

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orv 🤝 asteroid city

stories about stories that left a surprisingly large impact crater in my brain

anyway some more (frankly far too extensive) thoughts under the cut for an au i dont forsee myself drawing for again (cw: mention of suicidal thoughts and lots of talk about death)

for anyone reading this who hasn't watched asteroid city: it's a movie documenting the making of an in universe fictional play called asteroid city written by conrad earp (kdj) directed by schubert green (hsy) lead actor jones hall (yjh) who plays augie, very emotionally repressed guy whose wife (lsh, kinda) just died and is trying to figure out how to tell his children about it. anyway jones shows up at conrad's house for auditions and the two fall in love, then conrad dies from a car crash 6 months into the shows run and jones is left to play a character mourning the death of his wife while irl mourning the death of his lover and it drives him up a wall trying to figure out if he's doing conrad "right" (hence 'i still don't understand the play')

anyway for this au like everything that happens in the movie also happens i think but the character motivations are a little bit different like in the movie conrad earp writes the play before he ever meets jones hall so we don't really know why it's Like That but i think in the au kdj is either like. having suicidal thoughts or just fully believed he wasn't gonna live for very long in the like cptsd symptom kinda way lmao. so like it's not really that he wrote the play to help yjh process his own death (i think if that were the case the message of the play would be way different lmfao) but it's more like he just had death and grief on the brain and was also writing stuff. and like the answer he arrived at was that he didn't actually arrive at anything in the end. sometimes tragedy just happens and there's no meaning to it you just kinda have to live with that. like i know this is not how the process of play production works but if there's one change to the original movie plot in this au i want to make it's that kdj still dies by car accident but before the script is 100% finished or after he's been talking about rewriting the ending or something because i think he also doesn't figure out an answer he's satisfied with in the end about like death and grief and mourning. like you just know that in kdj's ideal world his loved ones wouldn't mourn him at all if he dies because he doesn't want them to be sad because of him and maybe he still hasn't fully 100% internalised that he has people who would care if he dies. anyway i think yjh kinda understands like subliminally that kdj was trying to Say Something with the play he just isn't sure what because he's looking for An Answer like some kind of meaning to everything that's happened but the point is there isn't one and if there is kdj hasn't found it either lmao. and like i think hsy understood immediately like as soon as she heard the news of his death she's figured out what kdjs thought process behind the play was and like she's absolutely not holding it together as well as she appears but she also sees yjh driving himself insane every night trying to find The Meaning or whatever and like whether or not she even agrees with kdj aside this is the only way she can think of to help him get out of that hole bc she can't exactly tell yjh like 'the point is that there is no point you just have to live with The Everything' so she's just trying her best to make him understand on his own. idk i just need someone who's watched asteroid city to see this and tell me if ive gone completely insane LMAO

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #joongdok #art i made #my contribution to the time honoured jdj fanwork trope of kdj pairing yjh with lsh against his will #that one last hsy looks so much like qiao ling from lc what the fuck #took some liberties with the outfits and the poses bc #ok honestly for most of this i was just drawing whatever felt right based on my memories of the movie like i only looked it up near the end #so i can get all the lines right #and also. im not drawing that fuckin outfit margo robbie was wearing in that scene christ alive #god some of the anatomy is so wack

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wiirocku · 9 months

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Galatians 5:1 (NKJV) - Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.

#Galatians 5:1 #stand #fast #liberty #Christ #made us #free #do not #entangled

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mail-me-a-snail · 4 months

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pls i hope you give us your Vance related PL thoughts one day <3 I’m sure he has a normal time of it

oh man. i could gush for hours about phantom liberty. dlcs dont usually engage me--the most "recent" exception having been destiny 2's last dlc with activision, forsaken--but phantom liberty gripped me by the membrane and throttled me within an inch of my life.

i mean, if it did that to me, imagine what it did to vance.

(spoilers follow)

it isn't 't the first time vance has gotten a holo from an unknown number.

that's the biz; most clients want secrecy. the private type don't trust fixers--they don't do middlemen. they cut straight to the point. vance has dealt with these kinds of clients before. they don't know the streets like he does; they don't give a shit to, either.

they give him the gist of what they want done; the finer details don't matter. job's a job--as long as he takes care of the gonk who needs flatlining, or klep whatever needs klepping, the scratch'll come through, no problem.

that's how it's supposed to go.

but songbird opens with this: she knows what's happening to him. she knows about the relic's slow poison; she knows about vance, who he was, is, and pretends to be; and she knows how to help.

the promise of a cure colors her tone, but she knows better than to make it here and now on the holo. so she asks vance to meet her at the gate to dogtown.

vance is fresh off a gig. he's maybe a kilometer from dogtown proper, can see the open, rounded top of the stadium peeking out from behind the buildings in the distance. black smoke rises over the skyline. seems there's always a fire in dogtown.

he had been nursing a cigarette on his bike--jackie's arch--when songbird had called him. he flicks what remains of the cigarette onto the pavement. grinds it out under his heel. he mounts the arch.

private-types always end up asking to meet at a secondary location.

this--this part of the routine that's been ingrained in him for the past year or so--he knows how to follow.

the malfunction tears through his parts with the precision of a ripper's scalpel.

it knows where to curl its long, electric-blue fingers in his internal wires. it knows how hard to tug; it doesn't stop, either. the force of it sours, taut, in the back of vance's throat.

the silver prongs connected to his spine rattle. they shake until they buzz--then that buzz sharpens into ringing. one constant note, ringing into eternity, rising without changing pitch.

it aches from within vance's very teeth. sits heavy on his useless tongue--the same tongue he fears that he'll end up biting during one of these seizures.

there was a time when the relic thought him still human. it's only recently that it's learned the true nature of its host. it's only recently that it's found out how much more it can feed on.

it's only recently that it's started affecting johnny, too.

he doesn't know how it happens--doesn't know if johnny's starting to share his pain, or if they're feeling each other's in a tenuous feedback loop.

either way, the relic is decaying, and it's taking them with it.

vance curls up against the nearest solid mass he can find; remembers he has to breathe; forgets, exactly, how to do that; reaches for johnny, who's seizing right in front of him--

and songbird reaches back.

she touches his shoulder. her hand carries no weight other than that of buzzing static. the sound bleeds into the malfunction's miasma of noise. she speaks, carefully, calmly, but whatever she says, the relic swallows.

her words seem to please it, however--because a few moments later, the malfunction trickles away. it leaves nothing in its wake but a bone-deep soreness and a few blue tessellations crackling across johnny's non-corporeal form.

the large lapels of songbird's jacket curl around her throat. beneath that and a number of colorful pins, she wears a rather nondescript netrunning suit in contrast. vance doesn't miss the cyberdeck attached to her hip.

she looks like any other runner. in fact, vance had traipsed around night city in something similar an eternity ago--only difference being the absence of his team colors of hexagonal red-and-black.

but she's got no symbols of her own. no iconography denoting her allegiance to any one patron. he would've taken her for one of the afterlife's enny-a-dozen netrunners, then--had it not been for the fact that she could see johnny.

she touches him, too. she grasps the ghost's shoulder as easily as if--as if...she were a ghost herself.

data crackles in vance's ear; it's not the relic's tell-tale, almost musical blue purr. he usually welcomes the sound because it means johnny's somewhere around him, some lame-ass quip ready to fall from his lips.

but this data is red and black and angry and alive.

it writhes; spits; it takes johnny with it.

for the first time in the past few months, vance's head falls quiet.

it's so quiet that the absence feels more like a cavity.

it aches like one, too.

she's not like any other runner, if she can do that.

the realization leaves him reeling with more than just the after-effects of a relic malfunction: it's got him dizzy with the idea that she's like him.

songbird doesn't win vance over by taking johnny away from him. he can feel her confusion with that underlying her every instruction, but she's got bigger things to worry about.

ask any of the techies from his arasaka days and they'd tell you this: vance is the last person to give a shit about the president of the NUSA.

he's not an NUSA citizen; he's especially not about to lick her heels just 'cause she used to run militech, either. his parents had fought in the war she had started all those years ago--it's in his corpo blood to hate her, or, at least, what she stands for.

but a job's a job, and song's not gonna give johnny up until vance swallows his pride.

he'll do as she says. he's got too much to lose not to.

that same red data plays with vance's surroundings as songbird talks to him. she props open doors; gets rusted old elevators groaning back to life; all from the relative safety of--wherever she is.

that takes skill. splitting himself in two like that--he could never pull that trick off, not for lack of trying.

granted, arasaka hadn't built him to be stationary. they had made sure he'd always be on the move. they had grafted an entire torso's worth of realskinn onto him so his machine parts could breathe in the cool, polluted air of night city as he ran through its gutter-like streets.

and that living data--it's as bright as copper and just as conducive; it carries with it that same, rotting taste. it's not just any fancy code. it's not even something that could be called a runner's signature; calling it that would imply it's likely to allow someone ownership.

that code isn't just black with ICE--it is ICE. it's several layers of thick, hostile ICE.

vance had only seen such a thing in cyberspace. way out there, lurking on the horizon, ever-present and closely guarded.

(because of the highly personalized nature of cyberspace, perhaps vance had invited it to stay).

even with his pull in arasaka's ranks, neither the techies or netwatch would've ever let him touch the blackwall.

but song's got it eating out of the palm of her hand.

...which means rosalind myer's been keeping what she doesn't understand on a leash for the past decade, and no one's been the wiser.

not even arasaka.

later, when he looks rosalind in the eye as he digs the tracker out of her neck--his touch comes too soft for someone like her, he realizes, though he doesn't do so on purpose--he wonders if she knows who, or what, he is.

if, if she does, then she must know what arasaka had intended him to be--why wouldn't she, after all, when song had been the one to order him after her?

johnny fills their first night in dogtown with doubt.

"this a normal tuesday for ya, v?" he asks vance. the ghost sits backwards on a rusted old folding chair in front of him. "savin' the skin of the fuckin' president of the NUSA?"

"sure," vance answers. he can't sleep. hasn't tried.

they both listen to myers breathing on the next mattress over for few moments.

then, he continues, quieter this time. "way things'll be goin', seems we're punchin' hansen's ticket same time next week."

johnny rests his chin on his crossed arms. his chrome arm gleams in the low, blue light coming from what could generously be called a window.

"think you're gonna be outta here that fast?" johnny shakes his head. "ain't how quick myers and her ilk operate."

"bureaucracy, that it? gotta wait for the paperwork to zero hansen?"

(he's not a stranger to the concept, but he had figured he had left that sort of thing behind.)

the ghost hums as the thought passes through their shared subconscious.

"'s not the NUSA tellin' ya to zero 'im. that's how they do biz: they get an idea in your head, and--'fore ya know it--they're washing their hands of you."

vance sighs; one long, full body sigh, broad shoulders rising and falling with it. this scop again.

he eases backwards into the mattress that he sits on. a spring digs against his back. he runs his hands down his face; the monowire pads pressed into his palms are marble smooth on his cheeks. he sets his hands on his chest.

data purrs--relic blue, this time--as johnny manifests beside him.

the latter turns his head to the former. johnny's eyes remain on the ceiling; his features are hard to discern from the stark shadows falling across his face. his long hair fans out around him. it's easy to forget, sometimes, especially in quiet moments like this, that johnny isn't even really there.

vance takes the illusion as it is, without question, and follows johnny's eyes to the popcorned ceiling.

"don't doubt you know what you're talkin' about," vance offers.

"but you're still gonna help 'er," johnny counters, quickly.

"mmhmm."

he makes a show of sighing. "why am i not surprised?"

"'cause you'd do the same."

"bullshit."

"so, yer sayin'--" vance props himself up on one elbow, dog tags coming to dangle around his neck-- "that even if there's a pretty damn real possibility of gettin' you off the relic--

"--big fuckin' if, don't ya think--"

"--you ain't even gonna stick around to find out if it's true?"

"there it is again--if, v, if."

"but what if it is true?" vance tips his head. "what if song really could help us?"

johnny finally looks at him. his lips are pressed into a thin line; he's not pleased. "what the hell was it that i just said, v? they get an idea in yer head--"

"--then they wash their hands of ya. i know." he lies back down, the motion a concession in and of itself. "heard ya the first time."

"ya got too much hope than what's good for ya, v." johnny turns on his side to face him. "'s how they get their claws in you. promise you one thing, quid-pro-quo, and they'll lead you down a shithole of your own makin'. just can't see how far you've dug yourself 'til you're lookin' up from rock bottom."

"fuck," vance breathes, amused. he meets johnny's eyes with a grin. "run that last line by me one more time, johnny--gotta make sure i got it down for the silverhand doctrine."

"oh--" johnny laughs, dry but warm-- "fuck off, v."

vance meets reed in the following days; he had almost missed the pressure of a gun nestling between his ribs. then, alex, if that really is her name this time.

he sees how the years between them have soured--both the time they had spent on the field together, and the time they had spent apart afterwards.

he learns how song had betrayed reed--on rosalind's orders.

just how far does the shithole go?

can't answer that without stopping to look up.

and they can't stop, not yet; hansen's playing diplomat with night city's brightest and boldest, songbird's in her cage, and the black sapphire's looking like the place to be.

vance doesn't miss johnny's glance over--doesn't miss how quickly johnny looks away when he catches the ghost staring, either.

the shell of johnny's ear and the red piercings clipped into the cartilage face vance. the latter pale in comparison to the blush dusting johnny's scruffy cheek.

vance sidles up to him--away from reed's eyes--and leans into his space. the black mesh stretching across his stomach and chest whispers with the motion. it's soft against his exposed skin. he tucks his hands behind his back.

"like what you see?" vance teases, in a murmur.

johnny finds the sea of other brightly colored guests very interesting all of a sudden. he's so intrigued by them that he doesn't dignify vance's question with a response.

it's at the black sapphire that vance sees so mi for what she really is: little of flesh, all machine. myers had not done for song what arasaka had done for vance; she hadn't deigned to hide the true nature of her prize netrunner.

white, block letters run up song's spine and spell MILITECH. myers hadn't bothered hide the mark of her allegiance, either.

or, perhaps, the mark of her owner.

embossed letters spell ARASAKA on vance's innermost machine parts. when he sees song's back for the first time, he swears he can almost feel those letters start to itch.

even after vance learned what song had done to reed; had learned how far she was willing to go; how much she was willing to give; he would have never turned her in.

it's not because reed and alex had needlessly killed the two netrunners they had stolen the identities of. it's not because reed makes his skin crawl, reminding him too much of white, sterile clinics and martyr-like vows of loyalty and the absence of a worthwhile life outside of bureaucratic routine. it's not because of so mi's promise to help him, either.

he doesn't turn her in because if it had been him in her shoes--and it could've very easily turned out that way for him, had arasaka pushed him a little farther--he would've done anything to be free, too.

she is not like him--that implies they're on equal footing.

no, she is exactly what arasaka had wanted. she is what they had spent ten years trying to (unknowingly) replicate. she is the perfection of red and black and angry and alive data.

she had existed this whole time--and vance had had no idea.

he and johnny have a bond that goes beyond flesh and bone and chrome. if there's ever a day where they're finally separated, vance will think that separation only superficial.

but vance and songbird...

songbird is the netrunner vance would've been had arasaka kept going. if they hadn't resigned to throwing him out when they deemed him "obsolete".

if song hadn't chipped through the blackwall of her own volition--would rosalind myers, former ceo of arasaka's rival company militech, still have kept her around?

if vance had gone against arasaka's wishes and interacted with the blackwall--would they have called him obsolete?

would he have even met johnny? so mi?

how deep would they have been willing to dig themselves if it meant having a chance at survival?

it's like johnny had said--can't answer that without looking up from rock bottom.

but all vance sees is song leaving him behind; all he sees is the promise she had never truly made; all he sees are stars.

#asks #vance #OH MAN THIS GOT SO LONG. IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR READING #BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST SORRY I GOT REALLY AUTISTIC.#WHOOOWEEE #my writing #im so fuckign eeped up man #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years

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i know im like. lucky to have this problem but picking a health insurance plan is literally the worst fucking user experience on god's green earth. just make it easy for me to figure out if my provider is in-network (bc on some of the various levels WITHIN THE SAME PLAN she isn't!!!) and which ones have don't have coinsurance without googling each individual alphabet soup plan. i know websites have the capability to show me this all on one page

#whoever answered the phone at oxford liberty suggested CALLING MY PROVIDER to check coverage #my brother in christ i am calling bc HER office suggesting calling YOU bc this plan is so obscure up here!!!#why can't we have normal blue cross blue shield where it's you get what you get #in all ways except physical i am a elderly little white dog with the tear tracks #so whatever one i pick (and my employer only covers up to $900/mo of the cost of whatever plan i pick) is going to have like #an extremely large effect on my life #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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superbdonutpoetry · 2 years

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Things That Make One Wonder....

Things That Make One Wonder….

It makes me wonder why people do not understand the following simple scriptures – is it due to their unbelief, a convenient memory lapse or are they preferential men pleasers? Romans 6:20 King James BibleFor when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness. The Apostle Paul makes it clear: when a person is a servant of sin, he/she is free from righteousness, thus, if he/she is…

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#1 Corinthians 15:1-4 #2 Corinthians 5:19 #2 Timothy 2:15 #Another Gospel #Fleshly #Jezebel #Liberty in Christ #puffed up #Salvation

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queenlucythevaliant · 2 years

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"City of Men" is even better than "Jerusalem" in terms of its sheer power to compel me to get out the brick and mortar and start physically building the Holy City here on earth until God relents and brings it about properly and more people ought to know it. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

"City of Men," Charles Williams

How shall we build the city of men,

Love and our mays and we,

Who are not sons of the bondwomen

It shall be free as our mothers are,

But children of the free ?

Who seem as Sinai,

Moving their heads in that covenant

Though they be broken of men to-day,

So anciently and high.

Bruised with toil and pain,

Liberty that is the soul of them

They by whom we were brought to be,

Shall surely stand again.

Born to the ways of men.

Walk in our midst, of that free city

Thus to build up the city of men.

Each a free citizen.

Love and our mays and we,

Being not sons of the bondwomen

It shall be free as our lovers are,

But children of the free!

Holily loved and trod,

They by whom we were brought to be.

Little, O little, upon our hearts

Born to the ways of God.

Seemed they within our love, —

O but the mightiness in them hid,

Queens, and they rendered themselves to us

We were afraid thereof!

O but we knew them then.

Republican in Jerusalem,

Thus will we toil at the city of men.

City and citizen.

Whose name is liberty,

Jerusalem, the mother of all.

Stand fast, stand fast for Jerusalem,

That is above and free.

Stand fast in liberty:

We are not sons of the bondwomen

But children of the free!

#i mean Jerusalem is lovely don't get me wrong #but there's a strong humanistic element that's absent in City of Men #which is so much about the way that our liberation in Christ is what enables us to build the Holy City here on earth #we are free! stand fast in that freedom and /build something/!#the new Jerusalem will be a city of freedom but we are children of liberty #why should we not live as citizens of a free city?#our liberty cannot be taken from us #'it shall be free as our mothers are' the great cloud of witnesses that came before were free and they began the city we are building #in that freedom #there's a fearlessness to the poem just as there is in Jerusalem but there's also this fierce gratitude and a sense of continuity #with the whole church #(Jerusalem is very British)#we walk in a manner worthy of citizenship in the holy city #'the mightiness in them hid we are afraid thereof'-- a holy fear. a fearless fear. awe at that which is truly awesome #the church is a glorious thing #these are very jumbled thoughts but ughhhh i adore this poem #and Charles William was an Inkling sooooo #pontifications and creations #how can i keep from singing #the last thing I will say is that someone needs to set City of Man as lovely as the melody that Jerusalem has #someone needs to get on that right away #oh also also! do please read it out loud it really helps to feel the rhythm of it #literature makes us more human

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cherisunn · 2 years

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The key to God blessing America is obedience and faith. We must be willing to stand for the righteous path set before us. And with renewed hope and determination, let’s all say, “God Bless America!” And know that God cannot lie and He will not ever break His promises. Jesus is a faithful King. He will shelter our nation and spread abundance over our land.

#Liberty #Christianity #America #July #Pray #Jesus Christ

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judahmaccabees · 20 days

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A Record of Dream

Dream, protector of dreams, battled a shadowy deceiver. Doubt lingered, twisting gratitude into suspicion. He embraced self-reliance, a new era of unwavering truth.

Intruders defiled his realm. Dream unleashed a spell, banishing them to oblivion. Accusations echoed, demanding apologies. Dream acknowledged the pain, seeking reconciliation.

He embraced self-gratitude, a shield against past betrayals. The realm basked in his authenticity. Whispers of thieving control threatened, but truth empowered the inhabitants. Deception’s charade ended, Dream stood, a beacon of truth in a world of illusions.