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freelancearsonist · 2 months

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Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to.

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs.

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt.

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome.

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less.

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us one shot #joel tlou #cece writes

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spectrum-color · 8 months

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So we all know GRRM, like all authors, took a lot of inspo from real life fairy tales, religion, and mythology. There are a ton of parallels but I picked out a few to put in this poll

Propaganda: Before anyone says anything, I know a lot of these are dark spins on the original. I’m not trying to say Littlefinger is a handsome prince or whatever. Also note that some of this is based on either things that haven’t happened yet but are highly likely to happen in Winds/Dream up to and including being confirmed by GRRM.

Arya and Jaqen as Hades and Persephone-the young maiden of spring is found by the lord of the underworld, who gives her an object (in this case a coin) to trick her into being trapped in the world of the dead. When she leaves home, winter comes, but when she returns, so does spring.

Sansa as Rapunzel-a princess locked in a tower by an evil sorceress (or just queen) who is spirited away by a man who wants to marry her. Strong focus on her hair as a symbol of her identity.

The Brotherhood Without Banners as Robin Hood and his Merry Men-a band of outlaws who defend the common people against corrupt authority figures. This one is really self explanatory.

Cersei as the evil queen and Margaery/Sansa/eventually Dany as Snow White-a vain, cruel women terrified of her beauty fading and being replaced by a younger woman who outshines her, so she tries to destroy her perceived rival, ultimately leading to her own downfall. The girls in Snow Whites slot are the popular choices for the identity of the YMBQ and the one Cersei is currently convinced it is.

Jaime and Brienne as Beauty and the Beast-a double subversion. Jaime is handsome and Brienne is ugly, but when they meet she’s brave and kind while he’s selfish and cruel, so it’s the beast who helps the beauty be better.

Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Robert as Helen of Troy, Paris, and Menelaus-a beautiful woman fiercely desired by two powerful men, she either runs off with or is kidnapped by a prince, leading to her (soon to be) husband retaliating by starting a tragic war.

Stannis and Shireen as Agammemon and Iphegenia-a king and commander sacrifices his daughter to the gods to win a war. Bonus if this ends up causing Stannis’ downfall.

Lady Stoneheart as Demeter-a mother wanders the land bringing destruction and misery as she searches for her daughter(s.) When her daughters return to her, spring comes.

Cersei and Jaimes children as the emperor wearing no clothes-the emperor walks around naked insisting that he’s a wearing magic invisible outfit, but everyone is afraid to tell him the truth until finally a child points out that he’s wearing nothing at all. See: everyone pretending not to notice that Cerseis children are the result of incest with her brother, and Ned finally realizing the truth when his 11 year old daughter points out that Joffrey is nothing like Robert.

Bran as the Fisher King-the Fisher King is a character from Arthurian myth. He is the guardian of the magical holy grail, protecting it so it (and power) does not fall into the hands of the unworthy. Notably, he also has a deliberating injury to his legs or groin (depending on the version.) Of course the endgame Bran of the show is a blatant rip-off of Leto II from Children of Dune, but I think the Fisher King sounds more like GRRM would do.

Dany as Moses-a leader who has prophetic visions, who after performing a miracle, frees her people from slavery and leads them on a harsh journey to a new land. Notably regarded as a critically important figure by a monotheistic religion.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #sansa stark #tommen lannister #joffrey lannister #myrcella lannister #arya stark #jaqen h'ghar #danerys targaryen #margaery tyrell #shireen baratheon #catelyn stark #I almost put jon as cinderella #but I feared the flame war it could kick off

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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

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Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax

The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.

Where was he?

The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.

What's more, they didn't seem surprised.

It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.

He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.

“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.

The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.

“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.

“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”

Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.

Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.

Steve gagged.

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”

Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.

Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’

You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.

“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.

“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.

Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.

There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.

Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.

“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.

“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.

Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.

Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.

“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”

He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.

“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.

Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.

Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.

“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.

Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.

Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.

“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.

“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.

“What?” Loki said sharply.

Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.

“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.

“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”

The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.

“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”

“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.

“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.

“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.

The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.

The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.

“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.

“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”

"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.

His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”

“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”

Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.

Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.

“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.

From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.

Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.

“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”

You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.

Thor’s jacket hissed.

“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”

The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.

It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.

The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.

Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.

“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.

Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.

“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.

Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.

You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...

“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.

“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.

“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.

The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.

“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.

“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.

“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.

An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.

You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.

Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.

You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.

The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.

“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.

Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.

“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”

You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”

A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.

“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.

“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.

The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.

--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan

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#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki series #loki fluff #loki angst #loki imagines #loki odinson #loki x yn #loki gif

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katakaluptastrophy · 4 months

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We've heard the story about the young woman living under imperial oppression conceiving an unusual baby with god, but what happens after that?

The local potentate gets twitchy about succession and engages in a spot of mass child murder, of course!

It's the fourth day of Christmas, aka the Feast of the Holy Innocents, and it's time for more weird Bible study for goth lesbians!

A quick refresher on the Christmas story: following some hotel over-booking shenanigans, baby Jesus is born in a stable and after singing angels turn up to chivvy them along, is welcomed by some shepherds. A little while later, three enigmatic wise men from the East turn up with some rather odd baby gifts, having been led to Jesus by a star.

While cash, liturgical incense, and embalming ointment feel like they'd be considered practical new baby gifts on the Ninth, Gideon doesn't get such fanfare with her arrival. Just a few geriatric nuns who only manage to necromantically scrounge up a name between them.

However, by toddlerhood Jesus and Gideon are on a rather more equal level: people are trying to kill them.

In Jesus' case, it's the local king, Herod the Great ("the Great" is perhaps best read in the same way as "Democratic Republic" or "gentlemen's club"). Herod was a client king, ruling on behalf of the Roman empire. The wise men stop to ask him for directions and Herod is non-plussed to say the least, because prophecies of the birth of great kings who will deliver their people from oppression are not great news if your job depends on said oppression. Handily, the wise men are warned in a dream not to tell Herod where they found Jesus and they go home a different way to avoid having to see him again.

But since Herod knows the general time and location of Jesus' birth, he decides it's better to be safe than sorry and has every boy under two murdered. (It should be noted that historical accounts other than the Bible, while generally agreed that he was a bit of a shit, do not mention this). Mary and Joseph had also conveniently been warned in a dream and left town before the unfortunate incident.

If this story sounds familiar, it's because it's not the only political baby murder incident in the Bible: you may also recognise elements of it from the story of Moses in Exodus.

Meanwhile, Harrow's parents are also rulers of a small but significant province of an empire, whose power is threatened. Though in their case, the issue is not a birth but the total lack thereof. With necromantic fertility issues and approaching menopause threatening to end the line of Anastasia, they murder 200 under-19s to generate enough death juice to ensure a necromantic fetus in what must have been one of the worst date nights on record. This incident is also not widely reported, in their case likely due to their ability to necromantically bind people's tongues.

Gideon, of course, is probably not actually spared in Pluto's own Massacre of the Innocents. But she handily does not stay dead, thus escaping the fate of her fellows. As with Jesus, being god's child has its perks.

Churches that celebrate the Holy Innocents understand them to be among the first martyrs, often considering them saints who have the power to intercede with God, particularly in situations involving babies and children. That is, a collective group of infants (6-144,000 of them, depending on who you ask) have the ability to impact outcomes across time and space.

What metaphysical impact those 200 Ninth infants imprinted on Harrow's soul might have on the outcome of Alecto the Ninth remains to be seen...

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #pelleamena novenarius #priamhark noniusvianus #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav

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tamamita · 5 months

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why jewish people say "theyre chosen by god" why? what did they do?

Abraham (as) was steadfast and remained in submission to the One True God in a society full of idol worshiping, as a result God gave him the task of fulfilling various errands to prove Abraham's (as) loyalty to Him. Abraham (as) succeeded in all of this and God promised him a great nation through Isaac (as) and Jacob (as).

The Israelites were named after Jacob (as), who would later be named Israel (as), after he wrestled with the agent of God. The Israelites were chosen by God because that was God's promise to Abraham (as). When He liberated the Israelites from Pharaoh, Moses (as) ascended Mount Sinai and claimed the Torah + the Ten commandments and being instructed with consecrating the Tabarnacle As long as the Israelites upheld God's laws, His promise to Abraham (as) and Moses (as) would remain. Failed step one; some of the Israelites immediately worshipped the Golden Calf, which led to God's punishment to wander the deserts of Egypt for 40 years until they reached the Holy Land. As you can see, being favoured by God comes at uhh a cost (?).

Anyways, the Israelites were not superior to other nations since they were given the task of upholding God's covenant. Think of it in the sense of your mother assigning you with the dishes, while your brother doesn't need to. The difference is that you get to have some candy after you finish your task. Either way, every other nation were given other commandments (see the Noahide laws), and as long as they upheld these seven laws, God would bless them. But the Israelites were specifically chosen for the task God had given them at Sinai, which is not as easy as it sounds when you read through the 613 Mitzvot. Nevertheless, as long as they abided by the Torah, God's favour would remain there. Of course, the Israelites would be challenged by difficulties, and the kingdom of Israel would suffer several setbacks as a result of various deviations from the Commandments according to the Tanakh. But despite these punishments, God's promise remained as long as they abided by the Torah.

The idea that Jewish people are the chosen people of God is affirmed by Christians and Muslims as well.

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thrashkink-coven · 4 months

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Hi all,

Welcome to the last part of my 2024 altar tour! 4/4

What a year it has been! I have learned so much and made so many new friends! My altar has always been a reflection of my psyche, seeing it’s beauty reminds me of the beauty that exists within me. :)

So this is my final little work space where I do pendulum magick and tarot readings. There is a devotional mug to Lord Lucifer which I use for our morning coffee chats. There is also Lucifer’s devotional dragon statue, as well as the dual scrying mirror for him and Faviel.

There is a normal mirror and a statue of a pharaoh’s tomb. The board which the flowers and offerings are placed on dawns Faviel’s sigil and candle. To Faviel I have offered a palm stone, flowers, an acorn, smoky quartz, some black earrings, and some grubs.

Beside him is my pendulum in a selenite charging bowl along with my pendulum mat.

The black and white image you see was a piece of art I made for Archangel Jophiel after he gifted me a vision a year or so ago. I use it whenever I’m reaching out to him.

Beneath my altar is some space for storage where I keep my larger cauldron, mortar and pestle, larger candles, etc. There is also my stand where I keep my broom, fire poker, and shovel. My witch broom is wrapped in a protective seal. I use it to sweep ash from my prayer mat.

And finally, here are a few of the books I have in my collection that have greatly greatly aided me in my craft. Remember to do your research my dears!

The Arbatel of Magick- First English edition 1633, new edition 2013, edited by Earl Marwick

Healing with Form, Energy, and Light- Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche

Gods and Goddesses- Hallam, Elizabeth

The Lesser Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley

The Dictionary of Alchemy- Diana Fernando

The Art of Angels- Howard Loxton

Backland’s Book of Spirit Communications- Raymond Buckland

Transcendental Magick- Éliphas Lévi

The Greater Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers

A History of God- Karen Armstrong

A Dictionary of Angels, Including Fallen Angels- Gustav Davidson

Making Talismans- Nick Farrell

The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses- Johann Scheibel

The Egyptian Book of the Dead

The Rise and Fall of the Nephilim- Scott Alan Roberts

Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft- Raymond Buckland

Candle Burning Rituals- Raymond Buckland

The Complete Book of Black Magick and Witchcraft

Green Witchcraft, Folk Magick, Fairy Lore & Herb Craft- Ann Moura

The Book of Forbidden Knowledge, Black Magick, Superstition, Charms and Divination- First Edition 1910s Johnson Smith & co. New Edition 2016 edited by Earl Marwick

Three Books of Occult Philosophy- Henry Cornelius Agrippa

and of course, The Holy Bible- New Living Translation.

I have many other books in my collection on tarot and astrology in my living room, but these are the books that have had the greatest impact on my craft. Here are a few of those other ones:

Love Potions- Tatania Hardie

The Book of Destinies- Jane Struthers

The Crystal Bible 2- Judy Hall

The Tarot Bible- Sarah Barlett

The Wicca Bible- Ann Marie Gallagher

Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs- Scott Cunningham

Magic and Medicine of Plants- Reader’s Digest

The Power of Birthdays Stars and Numbers- Saffi Crawford and Geraldine Sullivan

The Witches’ Goddess- Janet and Stewart Farrar

The Witches’ God- Janet and Stewart Farrar

•••

I wanted to end this tour off with my reading material because I want to emphasize how important it is to understand that “magick” is not just “stuff”.

I really enjoy all of my magical tools and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with having and wanting pretty things or an aesthetically pleasing altar. In fact I believe aesthetic and care are acts of love in themselves. Don’t ever let someone shame you for wanting to decorate and indulge in the aesthetics of your craft.

But please do remember that our greatest magical tool is our minds, our senses, and our experiences- our brains. Remember to read read read lots of material from many different sources. Contemplate honestly on everything you read, hear and experience. Do not take everything you believe today as a fact, do not box yourself in to anything. (Maybe that’s the Luciferian in me speaking lol)

Learn how to do magick alone, without any tools. My magick is not my stuff, although my stuff greatly aids me in my magick. Does that make sense?

Thank you so much for reading! I look forward to growing and learning so much more this year! :)

Blessed be!

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incomingalbatross · 4 months

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Five times Stan saw Ford in Dipper

(and one time he saw somebody else)

To be honest, Stan didn't think there was that much to see, at first. Sure, Shermie had said more than once how much the kids reminded him of Stan and Ford, but Shermie remembered them as a pair of gremlins under his feet. Of course another little pair would bring back those memories. Stan...remembered Ford as his own size, so it didn't work the same way for him. And Dipper, with his snark and his cynicism and his general attitude, was a fun little pain-in-the-neck, but not much like Stan's brother at that age. On the other hand... finding him glued to the Used To Be About History Channel and taking notes within his first few days at the Shack brought back some memories.

Yeah, okay, so Stan felt a little bad brushing off Dipper's rants about wax murderers, or old-timey conspiracies, or living arcade characters, or whatever the kid had tracked down this week. So maybe that burning enthusiasm in his eyes when he tried to convince everyone around him to care about the world's weirdness was a little familiar. It was fine. The kid had Mabel glued to his side (sometimes literally, after crafting accidents). And the kids had friends! Wendy and Soos and... Mabel's girl-posse... and honestly most of Gravity Falls, it seemed like, had their backs. Dipper didn't need his Grunkle's validation.

And then the whole Wendy musical-mind-control debacle came up, and that one Stan did jump into with both feet because hey, that wasn't Gravity Falls-level Weird, right? This was something he could admit he found plausible. Probably. And Mabel was obsessing over her boy band and Soos was out, and he liked Wendy and hated Robbie and somebody had to back Dipper up on this. Even if the kid was wrong, Stan could handle plain old Girl Problems. And... and it was kinda fun, maybe. Backing up the kid on one of his conspiracy projects. It wasn't exactly a Ford thing, because Ford didn't have friends who were girls, let alone get close enough to a girl to have her "stolen" from him. But supporting Dipper through the rejection part, after, reminding him he wasn't alone... that was maybe more familiar than he realized. Until Dipper looked up with a grateful, almost-shy little smile of appreciation at the reassurance, and Stan had to stop for a split second because Oh. Holy Moses. There he could see Sixer.

Things had gotten better, in some ways, since the zombie thing. He and the kids weren't hiding any of the general weirdness from each other, so he didn't have to pretend not to listen to stories about tiny golf-people or infinite pizza. He could do crazy things with them, even. That was fun! It was refreshing. The family that fights monsters together stays together, or...something. On the other hand, he was still hiding other stuff from the kids, and it got more important every day. And he was pretty sure they were still hiding Other Stuff from him, too. Which made it kind of a race. And it also meant that even while he was seeing more Pines in both kids than ever, in good ways, he was also seeing Dipper staying up all night and muttering into his Journal and wandering around with bags under his eyes that you could use to smuggle contraband. The stubbornness? The refusal to let go? That, Stan could relate to. The obsession and the twitchiness and the occasional haunted look, though... He'd really never wanted to see that Ford when he looked at Dipper.

Good news! Dipper's paranoia and skittishness had, in fact, gone way down since he'd met Ford and heard the full explanation of Stan's secrets. Bad news: It felt like everything Stan saw when he looked at Dipper nowadays was some kind of funhouse mirror of Ford, like all they were was the same person - the science, the schemes, the nerd games, the enthusiasm, just two brains on the same wavelength forever and ever - and that wasn't right, was it? Stan wasn't crazy, right, Dipper hadn't always been a total mini-Ford, so why did it seem that way now? It felt wrong. Felt unfair, somewhere, to somebody. But Stan couldn't pin down anything concrete in Dipper that wasn't in Ford - this Ford, anyway, and this Dipper. Maybe he was going nuts. Or maybe he hadn't known either of them quite as well as he thought he had.

+1:

"Hey, Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah, what's up, kid?"

Dipper looks hesitant. "I... had a question. But it's okay if you don't remember the answer."

"Eh, lay it on me," Stan shrugs. It's near sunset, out here on the porch. Ford and Mabel are in the kitchen - he might have heard something about refining the Mabel Juice formula, but that's terrifying, so he's not gonna think too hard about it. They'll be out soon anyway, or he and Dipper'll head inside, and then they can check on any potential abominations.

"When... Okay. You know we were in your head, right? Before Gideon took the Shack?"

Stan squints. That was... yeah, that was a weird memory, but it was there. "Yeah."

"Okay, cool! We, uh. Never actually talked about that, so good to know. Anyway." Dipper takes a deep breath. "I sorta saw some memories when we were in there, but obviously you were still hiding some big childhood stuff then, so I was wondering now..." He fidgets. "Were you really a wimp as a little kid before you started boxing? Was all that true?"

Stan looks down at him, blinking. Dipper's head is ducked, face hidden by his cap. This matters to him, for some reason.

"...Well, yeah," he admits. With a laugh, he hurries to add, "I know I seem like I must've been born this awesome, but turns out, no! I was a pretty wimpy little kid to start out. 'Course, then I figured out punching meant I could take out anyone who looked at me and Ford funny - still, took a while to get good at it, even then. So yeah, there's your Grunkle Stan's deep dark secret, kiddo: he started out as a bona fide weakling." He flicks up the kid's hat brim, still a little nervous about why he even cares -

And Dipper looks up, beaming at Stan. He's bright-eyed and happy, and he says quietly, as if he's just been given a present, "Kinda like me."

Oh.

Okay then.

Stan squishes Dipper into his side with one arm before the kid can comment on all the dust that's suddenly in Stan's eyes. "Like you were, maybe," he corrects him gruffly, knuckles rubbing into his hat. "I think you're comin' along pretty good, you know that?"

Dipper, squirming and laughing, shamelessly hugs him back. "I hope so," he says, apparently because this is Honesty Hour. "I guess - I guess if you didn't start out awesome, there's hope for all of us, right?" And it's probably still the laughter that's making the kid's breath hitch but - either way, Stan realizes he means it.

Seeing Ford in Dipper was just a thing that happened. It's probably never gonna stop happening - they're nerds, and they're family, and they're Stan's family, of course he's gonna see when they echo each other. He knows - he's always known - that they're alike, and also that they're two different people, and that he likes them that way.

But it's maybe been a while since he looked head-on at the moments when he can look at Dipper

(snarky, sarcastic, always ready to mouth off, latching on to every friend he made, stubborn, scrappy, insecure, throwing himself like instinct between his family and anyone who looked at them funny)

and see, uh, well. Somebody. Who isn't Ford.

And getting faced with the idea of Dipper apparently... a little bit... looking for himself in that-somebody-who-isn't-Ford?

These kids are gonna give Stan a heart attack in the few days left between now and their birthday. Seriously. It's gonna happen.

"Shut up, squirt," he sniffs for now, and decides to stop pretending this isn't a hug. "Didja not hear me the first time?" Months ago, inside his own head - yeah, okay, so he could probably stand to say it to the kid's face. "I'm already proud of you."

#my stan & dipper feelings have compelled me #i can't decide where to put the readmore blargh #gravity falls

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evilwickedme · 2 years

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Tell me more about the significance of Good Guy™ Superman.

Ok I'm typing this all up a second time, a couple of days later, because the first time I typed it all I did it perfectly but it was on my laptop and the hellsite fuckin goofed and it's all gone now so that made me sad. I can't promise to hit all the points I wanted to hit but I'll do my best

We gotta start by clarifying that in the tags that triggered this ask I did specifically say that clark/kal-el/superman being a Good Boy is important to me. I note this because while I have very good justifications for why it's important to me that he's a Good Person™, I acknowledge that this is one of those cases where the facts may back me up, but it genuinely just comes down to matters of individual taste.

So, like, big picture here: superman is Moses. I've talked about this before, you've read about this before, this is more fact than opinion. The parallels are obvious, and loud, and obnoxiously repeated in online spaces just as much as in books such as up, up and oy vey (this is not a recommendation, just pointing out that it's universally acknowledged pretty much everywhere). I'm not going to waste my breath trying to convince you of this fact. Superman is Moses. Moses is, in Judaism, possibly the holiest man to ever live. The first in the prophets. As many of you may recall, in my lecture on Jewish superheros, I argued that Jewish ideas of prophecy found their way into the modern Jewish stories being told by the comic book authors creating the very first superheroes - the very first superhero, of course, being superman.

One noteworthy thing about prophecy as described by Maimonides? The most basic component of prophecy isn't actually talking to god or receiving holy visions, it's actually just... Doing good. Good™. Good as an action, good as an innate need, good for the people around you and the people of the whole world. Moses showed this tendency as a young man - privileged, raised in the house of the pharaoh, he couldn't stand seeing any man get beaten, even if he was a slave. He loses his home over this, the family who raised him. He sees a man getting unjustly punished, and he kills the oppressor over it. And when he goes out again the next day and sees two Hebrews fighting, he tries to stop this as well (Exodus 2). Moses is our holiest prophet; before he ever even acknowledges God's existence, he feels the need to do good and prevent evil; superman is Moses; superman must follow a similar path of goodness as an innate need followed by action.

That's all big picture stuff, though. There's the smaller stuff, too. Not my bigger analysis of comic book heroes and the ideas of prophecy in Maimonides' writing, because honestly that's just... A lot. When it comes down to it, it is so much more satisfying to me that Superman is a person.

He's the first superhero, right? And he's got this insane level of power not really often seen since. Any person who attempts to defeat him needs to use a mix of his one singular weakness and genuine cunning, because there's really no brute forcing your way passed fucking superman. So yeah, you could tell a story like that of the Boys (although I didn't make it past episode 3 of that, my apologies). You could tell a cynical story where terrible people do terrible things and it all gets waved away. But the boys isn't really a story about people who happen to get powers - it's a story about people who have power, positions of authority, government officials and the like, not just superpowers.

That's not Clark Kent's story. Clark Kent is an illegal immigrant who was raised by good people in secrecy. He's handed superpowers, yes, but very rarely power - he's a journalist with farmboy training, and his greatest nemesis is a billionaire who becomes the fucking president of the united states. He fought Hitler in WWII, did you know that? He represents good because it makes for a compelling story. The underdog who's secretly not an underdog at all, choosing every day to fight evil and represent truth (being a reporter is vital to both of these, in case you're wondering). Yeah, he's a bit of a shit dad to Connor, but him not being a perfect person doesn't make him not a good one, especially since - again - in my definition of good, goodness is an action, and one you constantly have to perform and perfect and adapt to changing times.

Going back to Judaism - in Jewish tradition, we all have the force of evil and the force of good inside of us (yetzer hara and yetzer hatov). The word yetzer comes from the same root as the word for creation - we are capable of creating evil and creating good. Superman represents hope and justice because he chooses every day to create good.

And that, in a nutshell, is why it is so important to me that Kal El-Clark Kent-Superman is a Good Guy. Because he can be.

#superman #dc #kal el #clark kent #smallville #I'm tagging that cause it's my only superman related fandom I'm not basing this on smallville canon #dc comics #comics #superheroes #mine #ask #perfectlynormalhumanbeing #in my original typed answer I managed to connect this to the fact that Superman shouldn't ever be a jesus metaphor #but I failed to do that this time #so just imagine I said it anyway and I'll elaborate on that another time #jew tag #jewish #jumblr

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months

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I have (re)watched Lambs of Gods now. (Tagging @slutaciouslestat as promised 😅).

Here‘s my… thoughts, roughly in order:

Arrogant asshole but the clothes really look sleek on him

Sam really knows how to use mannerisms for display of character traits (in this case: smoking). Holy moly.

That cast right? They had to leave the cast open in the back for… practical reasons. Like, a cast takes a while to dry, and then the night, and the day after… Good thing he is in the stable already �� (And imagining the handling inside, later?! 😬😅)

The fact that he is receptive to the reality/visions was a nice twist!

Why do they all shave him?!!! *grumbles* ;))

The stories as a means to tell the harsh past was very well done.

The baby Moses thing. LMAO. (And also as vicious as his reaction was I can understand it)

The inspector being called Barnaby. I mean…

I loved the stories woven into the clothing.

I also loved his face at getting told that was his hair 🤣

Think Sam learned to knit for this?!

Him becoming a sister was weirdly poetic and touching in its own right. I was so glad they didn’t stray to brother after the initial announcement.

All that jerking off … “nothing“ mh hmmm. (Knowing Sam really wanted this part… I couldn’t be an actor 🙈😬)

I liked the address of the hypocrisy of the church vs the (supposedly) real belief

That shirt was really the perfect length wasn’t it

Throwing him out of the window… ouch

The oven.

I am in awe how someone so pretty can make such faces. Seriously. 🤣

The fairy tale visuals are quite breathtaking in their poignant simplicity

The reaction to the ring tone…. 😭

Like, I know these were cleaning the wound, but I probably would’ve reacted the same way

The butterfly -.-

Bathing day… 😌

That photo of lil baby Sam… 😻 (Yes, said in Jacob’s voice^^)

Ohhh that Father insinuating like that to Frankie… I would’ve flipped my shit. And to make her drink 😒

The low lighting they used (and yet everything was clearly visible which was nice) makes the pupils enormously large

Dying Day (lol)

Oh him having synesthesia is so interesting, I wonder if Sam and Assad discussed that?!

I didn’t think I‘d care so much for Frankie and her story but it was beautifully done

As was that scene with the colors 😭

Well, Father "Bob" got what he deserved

The oven. I think I said that before. Ahem.

They filmed really prettily

The mystical aspects of it all were very nicely done, nice and subtle

I did say that Father Bob had it coming, right

(Also, fathering a child while not even managing to errr... finish... and not knowing...)

I almost cried at the robes tbh

And I didn't expect this to have a happy ending...

So. Really liked it, didn't like that it was so hard to track down and watch, whyyyyyy can't I own a DVD of it?! *sighs*

Anyways, I'm glad Sam likes to do these roles that are quite special?! I hope he gets to do many more of these. 🥰

And, of course, probably the most famous of them all... 😈

#lambs of god #sam reid #this show has some really beautiful imagery #and I loved the tales #also searching for these gifs I had to realize that I cannot add gifs of people that have me blocked #the post does not save then #just in case someone else encounters this

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secular-jew · 4 months

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Qanta Ahmed: "As a believing Muslim observing Islam, I am compelled by the Quran to support Israel’s sole claim to the Holy Land; the Quran says it is so."

"The 80,000-word document 1.6 billion Muslims accept as the revealed word of God, the Quran, is categorical about the destiny of Israel and the people who can claim its ownership."

The Quran states: “Moses said to his people: O my people! Remember the bounty of God upon you when He bestowed prophets upon you, and made you kings and gave you that which had not been given to anyone before you amongst the nations. O my people! Enter the Holy Land which God has written for you, and do not turn tail, otherwise you will be losers.”

"Nowhere does the Quran make mention of the Muslims’ claim to the Holy Land. Instead, God reveals in the Quran that The Holy Land is designated for the followers of Moses. Because the Promised Land is theirs according to the Quran, only the followers of Moses may determine where their capital must lie."

"It is this Islamic truth that political Islamists vehemently deny."

"Those who masquerade as Muslims: Fast-forward 1,300 years to the 21sth Century and we find totalitarian Islamism – profoundly distinct from Islam – ensures a new anti-Semitism courses through the Muslim psyche."

Also, from Imam of Peace, Mohammad Tawhidi:

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#secular-jew #israel #jewish #judaism #israeli #jerusalem #diaspora #secular jew #secularjew #islam #imam #mohammed Tawhidi #Tawhidi #Imam of peace #pro zionist imam #qanta ahmed #Instagram

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kitkat1128 · 9 months

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Moses and the Burning Bush Scene Movie VS Scripture Comparative Analysis (Part 1/2)

I will say right off the bat that I am not here to argue which one is better. As someone of the faith it’s obvious for me to say that the Scripture is better as God’s Word is inerrant however I do understand that the movie has a unique way of showing the character of God not in a perfect way but still in a respectable way.

Some people may already have noticed these things to be said of the comparison or that some may not even agree with me. However, as somebody of the faith and somebody who is a very big fan of this movie, I do believe that firmly anybody of all backgrounds can truly appreciate this film for the respectable artistic and religious license that was taken into making this movie.

So, let’s get started!

I understand there are some cuts before Moses enters the cave but I want to start with the part when God speaks to Moses for the first time. As you watch the scene, everything that God says causes the wind to move. As He is the one who brings life in His breath of course, this was a nice consistency of His character and authority. Moses perceives God’s voice is mixed with the wind. More importantly, a whisper.

Most people of the faith describe God’s voice as a whisper, others call it a ‘little voice in their head,’ a conscience, a pit in your stomach, Jimney Cricket. Here, for POE (Prince of Egypt) Moses, God revealed Himself not only visually as the burning bush (which I will want to talk a little more about later) but as the wind. As it was Moses’ first encounter with God, the Lord was very gentle with him and talked to him lowly as a whisper.

In the screenshot below, Moses replies back: “Here I am.” (So far, this conversation is faithful to the Scriptures). Then, I would like you to focus on how God’s voice changes. It’s still blending with the wind but not as a subtle whisper. It is now a low-talking voice.

I believe that the reason that this happens is because POE Moses responds back. He acknowledges a presence, which makes him closer to the presence who is talking, although he is already physically. Responding back to your Creator is a sign of obedience, thus obedience creates closeness. Understandably, however, Moses does not know exactly who this voice is so he is naturally and rightfully scared.

“Then He said, “Do not draw near this place. Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5 NKJV).

The movie understandably erases the first sentence but only because in the Bible, Moses' attention to the burning bush was something extraordinary that he couldn’t figure out, which had to do with the presence of the angel of the LORD in the bush. The movie doesn’t add this detail explicitly, but I have a hint that it might actually be true later. Moses, in the movie, was allowed to come close. He touched the fire with his staff, nothing happened. Then with his own hand, and nothing happened.

So, why would the Lord in the Bible tell Moses to not come close? It was to show honor to the immediate presence of the LORD. As well as it was for him to take his shoes off. As some Asian countries recognize, once you enter someone’s home you take off your shoes. Well, now that Moses was in God’s ‘home’ he must also take off his shoes. Also, servants of that time would usually be barefoot. So, this was a sign of humility. Once again, a form of obedience.

Either way, in the movie, God’s presence is still honored, but perhaps not completely.

From here on, the conversation may have some of the same things said in the Bible, but in a different order with some things cut out or simplified. POE Moses asks God, “Who are You?” God responds with a slightly louder voice but still not a normal talking voice: “I AM THAT I AM.” (Hebrew: אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה, 'ehye 'ăšer 'ehye). This phrase is what could be the extended version of the name YHWH, Yahweh/Jehovah. The LORD’s personal name. As the Lord has no equal, He is who He is. That is why He answers this. In the Bible, God doesn’t reveal this until Exodus 3:14. Currently, the events happening are still in Exodus 3:5. Moses replies as most viewers would, “I don’t understand.” God’s voice now is at normal volume but still makes the ground ripple like water and wind blow gently at His every word. God replies with Exodus 3:6, Moreover, He said, “I am the God of your father—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”

So, here is my take on how much wonder and detail it came to the presence of God in this film. Even though the burning bush was of fire that doesn’t burn or exert heat of any kind, the light refracted off of it was not what a fire would do. The light refractions off the walls around the cave were like that of water.

Then, it came to me. God’s voice in the wind, the light of a fire, the refraction of water, and the holiness of the ground. Earth, wind, fire, and air. Of course, God is not limited to just the 4 elements, but He did make them and much more. I just thought it was a really beautiful thing to show how God created the elements that we know and He makes them obey Him to His will.

Let’s continue. In the Bible, Moses hides his face in fear. While in the movie, he immediately removes his shoes after a momentary state of shock and awe. Personally, I find the reaction to be hilarious because if I was told God was right in front of me I would have that same face too. However, as you take into account what Moses’ relationship with the Lord could have been, presumably he has been taught the ways of the Lord by his father-in-law Jethro, the high priest of Midian. He was content and living a peaceful life in the desert with his newfound faith and new life. He was taught the glory and honor that God has and demands. He knows of the great things that the Lord has done for His people, the holy works of the Lord. The stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob/Israel. He knew of Joseph who brought Israel to Egypt in the first place and why. Now, he was literally talking with the One who did it all.

POE Moses asks, “What do You want with me?” I would personally find this face to be of fear and uncertainty. Possibly expecting to be yelled at or scolded. Perhaps he is thinking of his past as an Egyptian prince and what he has done.

What really intrigued me though was that as soon as God mentions Egypt the light turns from a white-bluish tone to a more yellow-orange. Why would God do this exactly? Nowhere in the Bible was there any sort of ‘color-change’ like a mood rock. 😂 However, it was intended to set the tone of the conversation.

And the Lord said: “I have surely seen the oppression of My people who are in Egypt, and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters, for I know their sorrows. (Exodus 3:7 NKVJ)

For us the viewer and especially for Moses, it brings us back to Egypt even though we are not physically there. Even during the opening scene, we know of those color schemes. It was a nice visual touch.

I would also like to argue that the other voices from Moses’ past may not be what God is making him hear but what Moses himself is hearing in his own head. God may be speaking audibly and the other memories are thoughts or recalling of moments. Perhaps, both are audible or both are thoughts in his head. Either way, it works.

How I felt about it as a little young’n was that this was all audible and God was replaying other memories in his life relating to the conversation. From Moses’ reaction to the sound of a whip, one could argue that he was reminded of how God’s people were treated and the day he fled from Egypt, thus from his own mind. To cater to us the viewer, we have to hear everything that may be influencing a character's movements. So perhaps the memory in Moses’ mind was echoed audibly.

However, later in the conversation, God reveals to him something of the future: “Let my people go!” God can also tell us what the future holds. Prophetic messages. Some are audible to others, some are not. I will say that I love how this can be interpreted freely and left to interpretation. There are many ways that God speaks to us so I truly respect this decision.

Another visual touch was how the animators made the burning bush almost resemble human movement despite it being a supernatural presence.

When God speaks of “a land flowing with milk and honey,” you could almost hear His voice say it and show the significance of abundance, like arms physically stretching out.

(Part 2)

#moses #bible #christianity #judiasm #abraham #movie analysis #prince of egypt #poe #moses prince of egypt #God #Jesus #Holy Trinity #Burning bush #Exodus #character analysis #analysis #biblical analysis

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kuronekonerochan · 7 months

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Regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict there's only one thing I can say to speak my mind.

The fucking orange said once one of the stupidest things I ever heard considering the context. "There's good people on both sides". He was of course wrong in the case. But regarding this subject there is something similar yet opposite to be said.

There are bad people on both sides.

Hamas is a barbaric terrorist organisation that oppresses its own people and has no qualms using its own people as humans shields, amongst other atrocities.

The Israeli Zionist government is a genocidal, land thieving, racist and fascist regime that regularly commits war crimes sanctioned by powerful foreign allies and foments conflict to fuel their internal political agenda.

The prepotency of the Allies post WW2 in randomly assigning land to the Jewish people on an already inhabited land without the locals consent is preposterous and a recipe for disaster.

I use "randomly" here not because I am ignorant of world history or religion and am unaware of the historical significance of Jerusalem, but because the decision of relocating the Jewish people there was incredibly stupid and random without consideration for the horrific consequences it would bring.

I would like to add that I have read the old testament. And this is not an antisemitic take. It would be the same for every religion with the concept of promised land as a god sent (literally) justification for war and aggression. According to the old testament Moses guided the Hebrews out of Egipt, where his ppl were enslaved, in a divine quest for a promised land where they could live in peace. Moses wandered the desert for 40 years leading an ethnic and religiously persecuted group of people that we could consider in modern days as the concept of refugees. He asked for permission to enter other nations in search of refuge and safe passage and was denied multiple times.

How horrible it is that after milleniae this is still a current tragedy around the world for so many people in need of aid. To name a few the crisis in the Mediterranean and, in a perverse twist of fate, the Palestinians stuck in a warzone in Gaza with the State of Israel being the oppressors cutting basic human needs such as water, food, housing and electricity to innocent civilians who are trapped with no way of escaping.

Back to the old testament it was also foretold that Moses would die in the desert without reaching the promised land (but still sighting it from afar, cruel,man!) and another would lead their people to the promised land, Josiah.

The city was already there, inhabited. Josiah was able to conquer it from the previous inhabitants because God was on their side to win the battles and conquer the land He had promised. Is it just me or God promising a Holy Land of peace and prosperity by leading the Hebrews to take it from the current inhabitants by means of a bloody war against another people a contrasence and hypocrisy? Get your land of peace through invasion, war and killing. As I said, using God as an excuse for warmongering should never have been acceptable, not just in this case but in all of world history, including the Catholic Crusades and Colonialism with the excuse of spreading faith.

But all of this is just historical context.

So let's approach the main issue by talking about the Good People on both sides...or to put it simply, just the people, the innocent civilians on both sides. The only ones I care to defend and the ones that break my heart. The ordinary Palestinians that have lived so many decades in a warzone and now stuck between an extremist terrorist group claiming to be fighting for them while murdering kids in music festivals, kidnapping and executing civilians while also being oppressed, robbed of their lands and routinely murdered with the slaughter of their children by an extremist fascist foreign government. The innocent Israeli civilians born in Israel, who have no culpability in the messy geopolitics of the past generation of international leaders. Those who are against the oppression of the Palestinian people and the war crimes committed by their own Government. Both current Palestinians and Israeli citizens have the right to live in peace in their homeland. It's extremist and unacceptable to demand that only people of one or the other ethnicity and religion be allowed to live in the territory from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean sea. Both current generations of Israeli and Palestinians were born there and have the right to be allowed to be citizens there in peace. Foreign immigrants granted that right or seeking asylum also should be able to live their lives in peace.

People have a right to Peace and to live unoppressed. There needs to be a two state solution with defined borders internationally acknowledged and that the violation of it by either party causes such an earned international outrage as the invasion of Ukraine or the outrage there should have been before the invasion of Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, etc. Two states and two people coexisting side by side with the hope of cooperation and mutual neighbourly aid instead of hate for the generations to come.

The many injustices and errors of the past and most unfortunately the present cannot be allowed to trap the future generations in this cycle of hate, war and tragedies. Foreign interest and wars by proxy cannot be allowed to continue to ruin the lives of innocent civilians. Terrorism and Government sanctioned war crimes cannot be tolerated and silently ignored by the rest of the world. Bloody incursions and invasion of foreign nations should not be tolerated in this modern age, regardless of the perpetrators. America, Russia, China, African and European nations alike should be held accountable for their warmongering and held to the same standards of international law and put to trial in Hague for their war crimes.

As a last note because the discourse around this seems to be purposefully incendiary, narrow minded and just plain irrational:

1) Advocating for a free Palestine is NOT condoning terrorism. Palestinians would never be free under an extremist terrorist group. They just suffer from two opposing oppressive forces currently squashing the people under their war.

2) Denouncing the war crimes of the State of Israel against defenseless Palestinian civilians is NOT antisemitic. Hebrews originally fled from Egipt to escape slavery, racism and oppression. They were refugees. When the Inquisition persecuted, murdered and expelled Jews from Catholic European Nations? That was also Genocide. The survivors were also refugees. During the Holocaust many managed to survive by managing to flee the Nazi who slaughtered millions of them for their ethnicity and religion. This was genocide. The survivors who escaped were refugees. Currently persecuting and killing Palestinians for decades, denying them citizenship and the right to remain in their homes and coexisting because of their different ethnicity and religion and trapping them in a warzone to die of starvation and thirst, without electricity or shelter from war? That is ALSO genocide. And in a land with closed borders and no means of evacuation of civilians like the current situation in Gaza? It's not even giving the innocents a chance to become refugees.

Considering the history of the Jewish People, being against the far right government of Israel and the atrocities they have made and are currently doing cannot be antisemitic. I am not Jewish but to me, supporting it is a spit in the face of the suffering of the Jewish People over the past milleniae. From the few things I can agree as far as dogmas go is that "Do not do unto others..." Is a solid universal principle.

3) There is one fundamental thing about the Jewish religion that I am adamant against, that is also expressed in similar ways in other religions, that I cannot tolerate under the guise of religious freedom and tolerance. There is no chosen people. Every human life has value. No one is less of a person in any part of the world than it is in another. Believing in a God does not give permission to mistreat and oppress ppl from different cultures or even your own. Not believing in your god is not a reason to invoke conflict. The only "God's Work" you are allowed to do is to be kind and help others, regardless of where they come from or their creed.

#my rant about this neverending conflict #gaza #palestine #israel #free palestine #I really don't care if you attack me in the comments #there is the right to freedom of speech of course #but if your opinion consists of justifying terrorist or government sanctioned war crimes #that is not a let's agree to disagree situation #I reserve the right to judge you as a bad person and as such I couldn't care less about your opinions #and I will certainly not engage in an argument online over it #imperialism #politics #the world saddens me

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transgenderer · 10 months

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¹ The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: ¹² Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If any man’s wife goes astray and is unfaithful to him, ¹³ if a man has had intercourse with her but it is hidden from her husband, so that she is undetected though she has defiled herself, and there is no witness against her since she was not caught in the act; ¹⁴ if a spirit of jealousy comes on him, and he is jealous of his wife who has defiled herself; or if a spirit of jealousy comes on him, and he is jealous of his wife, though she has not defiled herself; ¹⁵ then the man shall bring his wife to the priest. And he shall bring the offering required for her, one-tenth of an ephah of barley flour. He shall pour no oil on it and put no frankincense on it, for it is a grain offering of jealousy, a grain offering of remembrance, bringing iniquity to remembrance.

¹⁶ Then the priest shall bring her near, and set her before the Lord; ¹⁷ the priest shall take holy water in an earthen vessel, and take some of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle and put it into the water. ¹⁸ The priest shall set the woman before the Lord, dishevel the woman’s hair, and place in her hands the grain offering of remembrance, which is the grain offering of jealousy. In his own hand the priest shall have the water of bitterness that brings the curse. ¹⁹ Then the priest shall make her take an oath, saying, “If no man has lain with you, if you have not turned aside to uncleanness while under your husband’s authority, be immune to this water of bitterness that brings the curse. ²⁰ But if you have gone astray while under your husband’s authority, if you have defiled yourself and some man other than your hus- band has had intercourse with you,” ²¹ —let the priest make the woman take the oath of the curse and say to the woman—“the Lord make you an execration and an oath among your people, when the Lord makes your uterus drop, your womb discharge; ²² now may this water that brings the curse enter your bowels and make your womb discharge, your uterus drop!” And the woman shall say, “Amen. Amen.” ²³ Then the priest shall put these curses in writing, and wash them off into the water of bitterness. ²⁴ He shall make the woman drink the water of bitterness that brings the curse, and the water that brings the curse shall enter her and cause bitter pain. ²⁵ The priest shall take the grain offering of jealousy out of the woman’s hand, and shall elevate the grain offering before the Lord and bring it to the altar; ²⁶ and the priest shall take a handful of the grain offering, as its memorial portion, and turn it into smoke on the altar, and afterward shall make the woman drink the water. ²⁷ When he has made her drink the water, then, if she has defiled herself and has been unfaithful to her husband, the water that brings the curse shall enter into her and cause bitter pain, and her womb shall dis- charge, her uterus drop, and the woman shall become an execration among her people. ²⁸ But if the woman has not defiled herself and is clean, then she shall be immune and be able to conceive children.

²⁹ This is the law in cases of jealousy, when a wife, while under her husband’s authority, goes astray and defiles herself, ³⁰ or when a spirit of jealousy comes on a man and he is jealous of his wife; then he shall set the woman before the Lord, and the priest shall apply this entire law to her. ³¹ The man shall be free from iniquity, but the woman shall bear her iniquity.

for some reason this kind of wacky guilt ritual seems out of place in the bible to me. like it should be medieval. but of course the wacky medieval rituals are the distant descendants of the wacky ancient rituals. anyway. really love that the drink is tabernacle dust. thats desert floor dust! gross!

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bills-bible-basics · 5 days

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WINDS SYMBOLIZE SPIRITUAL FORCES -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List Visit https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see more. "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." Genesis 1:1-2, KJV "And God remembered Noah, and every living thing, and all the cattle that was with him in the ark: and God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the waters asswaged; The fountains also of the deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the rain from heaven was restrained; And the waters returned from off the earth continually: and after the end of the hundred and fifty days the waters were abated." Genesis 8:1-3, KJV "And Moses stretched forth his rod over the land of Egypt, and the LORD brought an east wind upon the land all that day, and all that night; and when it was morning, the east wind brought the locusts." Exodus 10:13, KJV "And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and the LORD caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry ground: and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand, and on their left." Exodus 14:21-22, KJV "Daniel spake and said, I saw in my vision by night, and, behold, the four winds of the heaven strove upon the great sea. And four great beasts came up from the sea, diverse one from another." Daniel 7:2-3, KJV "Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." John 3:5-8, KJV "And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance." Acts 2:1-4, KJV "Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience:" Ephesians 2:2, KJV If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/winds-symbolize-spiritual-forces-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=160699&WINDS%20SYMBOLIZE%20SPIRITUAL%20FORCES%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

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beardedmrbean · 14 days

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Oh sorry I for the back to back

Actually tv was airing reruns of good times once so my mom put it on and I watch a couple of episodes. I mentally went OH NOOOOOOOO halfway through the trailer when realizing what it was sequel about

THERE A FUCKING REASON IM MORE EXCITED ABOUT PLAYING AS YASUKE IN A HISTORICAL FICTION THAT CENTER AROUND A ILLUMINATI WAR AND MOST GODS ARE ACTUALLY MISREMEMBERING OF A HIGHLY ADVANCED CIVILIANIZATION THAT CREATED HUMANITY FOR SLAVE LABOR 75,000 YEARS AGO

Ugh sorry for the detour, but for why Ghettos now means bad neighborhoods. I remember something

So in 7th grade , a daughter of two holocaust survivors told her parents stories. She mentioned that they immigrant to Chicago

So my theory is that when holocaust survivors was telling how they were treated prior to the Final Solution. That people especially black Americans might have started to see parallels to how African Americans were treated in America

Of course not 1:1 but we all know how Jim crows America was

Oh and that pos racist urban planner Robert Moses that lead to the huge race issues of neighborhoods

And the projects, yeah the crime ridden place that was intentionally there to keep my community as animals

Of course not every black person live in it. But there a reason why a lot of black Americans including the lunatic Kanye in his songs, reference Chicago as Chiraq

Oh sorry detour, but remember the OG candyman? I seen people ask why it focus on a white woman…holy fuuuuuuuck

🤔

Could been that a lot of middle classic Americans especially fans of the horror genre wouldn’t know about the terrible situations of the Chicago projects so they made a stand in for the majority white consumers?

Ugh don’t get me started on the remake…where they tackle police brutality… in Chicago… a Democrat and heavily black politicians voted city.

Source: I live in the Chicago area and one it suburbs. I can see the Sears tower (I will call its Willis when I’m dead) in the distance when I use the backroads

Sorry now it remind the issues with the black panther movies. Yeah it was made by race obsessed people but also it was written as a Black ™️ movie

A prime example is Killmonger backstory, yeah it was wrong for the wakandans to abandoned to the streets of Oakland….

But the problem is the vast majority of MCU consumers were white middle class people and even I had to explain some shit to a Indian mutual

Coogler forgot that media intentionally turns a blind eye to black on black crime now and how horrific black inner cities still are. So most people wouldn’t know how crime ridden Oakland was. Okay okay they would, but a lot of the intentionally markers wouldn’t

But they sure as hell remember how evil the cia iiiiis!

Tangent, but why are black creators acting like the shitty made, poorly run projects integral to our communities?

They forced upon to use when we had very limited access to jobs and such. The whole guns, crack, and welfare system was created by racist politicians to ensure we ran back to arms for votes.

Shiiit, now I’m think about, the projects should been seen as modern plantations. Made to keep us away from the others. And so many black kids who could have been doctors, lawyers, and more. All gun down in crossfires or force to join gangs in order to survive….

Oh sorry I for the back to back Actually tv was airing reruns of good times once so my mom put it on and I watch a couple of episodes. I mentally went OH NOOOOOOOO halfway through the trailer when realizing what it was sequel about

Ya, Jeffersons, Good Times, and 227 were all great shows that need to be left alone, Sanford and Son too, they're trading on the name without actually honoring the place it came from, it's a shame.

You're sort of right on Ghetto

How America's Ugly History of Segregation Changed the Meaning of the Word 'Ghetto'

Short short version is the black community adopted the term since it matched up well enough to their circumstances with forced segregation looks like as early as 1910

Oh sorry detour, but remember the OG candyman? I seen people ask why it focus on a white woman…holy fuuuuuuuck

Never saw it, but I will take your word for it on all that stuff

Sorry now it remind the issues with the black panther movies. Yeah it was made by race obsessed people but also it was written as a Black ™️ movie A prime example is Killmonger backstory, yeah it was wrong for the wakandans to abandoned to the streets of Oakland…. But the problem is the vast majority of MCU consumers were white middle class people and even I had to explain some shit to a Indian mutual

Didn't see that one either, but I did gather that it was not quite what it should have been, unfortunately there is only so much time in a movie so gotta leave it up to the viewers in places I guess, also I imagine there were plenty of people that didn't care anyhow they just wanted to see the people fighting and all the cool gadgets and such.

You should look up the angry reviews about that one episode of Family Guy, lot of people upset at the 'family guy 'nobody cares about black on black crime' line at the end.

Tangent, but why are black creators acting like the shitty made, poorly run projects integral to our communities? They forced upon to use when we had very limited access to jobs and such. The whole guns, crack, and welfare system was created by racist politicians to ensure we ran back to arms for votes.

because people continue to consume it so there's not much motivation to change the formula, need to bring back George and Weezie, Jefferson's was a good show, Sinbad was a good show, hell even Martin wasn't half bad.

They'd hate The Jefferson's now because meritocracy is bad somehow, but how else are you supposed to move on up to the east side, to a deluxe apartment in the sky, at least most people have to work for it, especially if they started at the bottom.

Can't tell people that they have some responsibility for where they land in life now it would seem.

See above about The Jefferson's and previous comments about 'crab in a bucket/work 3 times as hard'

You want a media conspiracy there you go.

#zoomer huey anon

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