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pieces-by-me · 3 years

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Golden Eyes

Words: 2627

Summary: There aren’t only rats in the tunnels under York. A big surprise for Ivar that takes his breath away.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, imprisonment. English is not my first language and first time writing for Vikings.

@maggiescarborough - thank you again for the help with this!! I hope you like it and still want to read it (Even though it took me four months to write this)

Ever since Eadrick and Hilda found out she was with child they knew that it would be special. They knew because the pregnancy felt different. Hilda didn't have sickness in the morning and her emotions stayed the same all throughout the months. When they went to the healer of their small village he told them that it was a curse from the Devil. For no women had ever a pregnancy like it, it was unnatural. Eadrick couldn't understand why the healer had the idea that his child could be a curse. How could it be? They tried for so long and never were blessed with one and now that it finally happened they had to hear that it was the Devils work? Hilda had tears running down her face as she stood tall and declared that the healer should feel ashamed. “My child is not made by the Devil but blessed by God!” The healer sneered after them as they exited the small cottage.

Months passed by and the happy pair couldn't wait to see their little boy or girl.They didn't care what the child would be as long as it was healthy. But with the time fleeting and the stomach growing the looks from the people of the village would grow as well and become more and more evil. Word had got out that Hilda supposedly carried the Devils child and with every day that passed Eadrick became more worried for his wife. He knew that he had to protect her and his child, so he did everything to build them a little home in the middle of the forrest surrounding the village.

When Hilda went into labor Eadrick feared for his beloved. The healer refused to help birth 'a cursed child' and they were alone in their small home. Only a fire to help and warm them in the cold winter month. The birth went so fast it was as if it never really happened. And the strangest thing was that Hilda felt not one bit of pain. She was smiling when she pushed and then her child came into the world. Hilda birthed a little girl and Eadrick couldn't help but look at his family with love and adoration. He swore to God that he would do anything, even sin, to protect his family.

She didn't scream when she came into this world. Her big eyes were just looking, searching, for her mother and father. And as soon as her little eyes met the tear filled ones of her father she let out a little laugh that made both her parents cry for joy. Her eyes had the color of light. An almost golden hue that could not be discribed. She was not a curse. She was a blessing. They decided to name her (Y/N). The little girl with sunshine in her eyes.

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Ivar wobbled through the streets of York with eyes in search for any small thing he could have missed. He had to make sure that everything was in order and that nothing would go wrong. The smoke from the burned up rats and rotten meat made it hard to examine the traps but he managed. More annoying was the smell. He had to swallow back his already eaten food to not vomit all over the street at some points. That would not be a good look for the ruler of the Heathen Army. But that also was something he managed. Ivar sent Hvitserk away to survey the catacombs under York after his big brother questioned his plan. Idiot. As if he didn't build everything in his head to a point and thought about how everything could turn out. Of course he had a plan. A plan that would soon be taken into action, for as the Saxons were on their way to take back York. With an almost malicious smile Ivar made his last round around the outer ring of the city. Oh yes, the Saxons would come soon and think that death took all the heathens away. But they would be met with nothing but death for themselves.

Hvitserk cursed his younger brother. He knew very well that Ivar was not an idiot and had a plan. He just wanted to be included. Not be left out and always chasing answers and responsibility. Not unlike with Ubbe. But now he kind of wished that his brother would have given him another order. And not running around the dirt and rat infested tunnels that stretched out under this Christian city. He didn't really know for what he, and the other worriers that went down with him, should be looking for, but he guessed that if he found something suspicious or wrong he would see and know.

After walking through the foul-smelling tunnels for hours, Hvitserk was about to call it quits and wanted to go back up the ladder when he caught something in the corner of his eye. It was a door. A rotten door with huge metal bolts that looked like it would bust with one small push and fall out of its hinges. He walked closer to it, intrigued to find something after hours of nothing. The wood on the door felt rough to his touch making him think that it was not used often. When he tried to open it though it wouldn't give. It stayed shut and only then did he see the whole for a key.

'You're not the first thing that wanted to stay untouched but I always got my way.' He thought with a mischievous smirk as he thought about some of his past conquests. When he slammed his body for the third time against the door, with running start, and it's still not budging he grew irritated. The wood definitely being more robust then it appeared. What the hel was behind this door that needed to be so protected? After one last push something in that room moved. Hvitserk could hear it. Almost like a hound. Whimpering and shuffling as if to get away. Why would the Saxon leave an animal locked in these dark tunnels?

His thoughts were broken up by the sound of running feet and people flooding the tunnels. The time has come. The Saxons were here. With one last glance to the door Hvitserk made his way back to the entrance where he was supposed to meet up with Ivar. As he rounded the corner he saw how his little brother was being hoisted down and someone was already waiting with his crutch on the ground.

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The Saxons entered the city. Empty of all beings except the rats that crawled over the muddy grounds. Why were the rats on the ground? The Bishop looked at the small rodents with uncertainty. It was not common for rats to run this free around people. Soon the cheers of the soldiers were washing his worry to the back of his head. Bells were ringing and people celebrating; they have defeated the Vikings.

But while the rats ran free on the ground the tunnels swarmed with Viking warriors lusting for blood. Ivar did it again. He came up with a plan that fooled his opponent and would guarantee his success. He looked up through the manhole to the feet of soldiers walking over him unbeknown to the threat underneath their them.

Hvitserk arrived and made his way over to his little brother. The two Ragnarsons met eyes and in both radiated the intend and want to kill and mark the streets of York with the blood of the Christians. In the back of Hvitserks head the thought of the mysterious door and animal surfaced for a split second, he would go back there and try to open it when the battle is won. With a little shake of his head to get back to now he heard the Saxons cheer for their victory.

Ivar and Hvitserk met eyes again, both smiling like two mad men. Anticipation running through their veins at the thought of finally running their sword and axes through bodies and bones. And with a small turn from his body Ivar watched his warriors, everyone at the soles of their feet to start, threw is right hand in the air and ladders were pulled up. Everyone had to be silent.

As the first men stepped through the opening, Ivar and Hvitserk letting out roars of battle, the Saxons had to realize that they made a huge mistake.

Cheers turned to screams of shock and the streets turned red with blood and gore.

The Heathens were not dead but they brought it with them.

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The battle was done. The bishop in chains and Ivar was basking in his win. Heahmund thought he was looking in the eyes of the devil when he saw the crawling figure coming closer and closer to him. Chuckling like a demon. While he relished in the humiliation of the Christian, his brother was distracted by something else. In the back of the church were two dogs that fought over a bone, it seams that ever creature was fighting on this day. But the display and sounds brought back a memory to Hvitserks mind. The animal in the tunnels.

He went out of the building without a word in search of a bigger ax. His brother not even realizing he left. When Hvitserk made his way back into the tunnels he had a harder time finding the mysterious door again. The shine of the torch not being light enough for him to see everything. With his luck we would get lost. But the gods were on his side and after he ran into a dead end for the fifth time he found it. 'You're done'

His shoulder hurt after the battle. One Saxon having brought their sword down further then Hvitserk could reflect with his. The dried up blood was still on his clothes. It seamed to open up again as warm liquid trailed down his arm in small droplets. But he didn't care. He needed to know what exactly was behind this stupidly, hard to open door. With a final blow of the ax the wood splintered away and gave sight into the room.

It was dark and the smell of sick and rotten flesh made its way into his nose. It was worse then when they burned flesh for the plan. Even with his torch he couldn't see inside so he made his way back a little and began to bring the ax back to the hole he created. More and more wood split away and after only four more hits he could fit through. Of course it was probably not the best idea to go blindly into a locked room but his curiosity won over common sense.

At first he didn't see anything. No animal running towards him. No treasure or anything being stored in this room. All his eyes were met was stone walls that were covered with vines and mold, water running down in small streams down the sides and puddles of old and dried up blood littering the floor. This was not a room for save keeping. No this looked like a cell if he ever seen one. He turned around and was about to climb back through the door when a sound made his body freeze.

It was the same thing. The small whining of a broken animal. Barley there but in the silent room it appeared to echo from everywhere. He turned around and really searched every corner and halted when his eyes came on a small bundle of brown fabric. Fabric that moved in a feeble attempted to get away from the viking. He took a step closer, cautious as to not scare it even more. He didn't even know what lied before him until two golden eyes looked back at him with so much despair he faltered in his step.

It was a girl. A small, sickly Saxon girl that, by the looks of it, was trapped in this cell for only the gods knew how long. She trembled and flinched and even though he didn't move closer she tried to get away even more. But her body seemed to gave up on her. All throughout her weak attempted to escape the threat they held eye contact until the gold vanished and she collapsed on the ground.

'What in the name of Odin?'

Hvitserk ran up to the girl and up on a closer look saw that her hands and feet were shackled to the walls. Her wrist scraped raw and red. Ankles crusted over with old blood.

Unbeknown to Hvitserk the closer he got to the girl the less his shoulder bled and hurt. But with the situation a little bit more severe he just simply couldn't focus on it. He blamed it on his new discovery and excitement and moved on. With his ax he had little effort with the chains that weighted more then the girl herself, picked her up over his shoulder and made his way back to the church. He couldn't wait for his brothers reaction of his find.

Ivar was getting impatient. Sitting on the table at end of the hall he wondered where his brother was. A small feast was being held to celebrate the defeat of the Christians. He wanted to talk to him about the bishop and then rub it in his face a little that his plan worked. The rumble of conversations died down a little with the sound of opening doors and people made room for whoever entered the hall. By now Ivar could see that ,finally, his brother came. But what he nor anyone expected was the sleeping girl in his arms. What was going on?

With each step from his brother Ivar felt something change inside his body. He couldn't put it into words but there was a force spreading from his chest to his legs. Hvitserk went to the middle of the room and laid the girl on the floor right to his feet. Ivar's eyes widened, breath stuck inside his lungs. Could it be? He didn't feel like this since he was just a little boy. He only remembered that once he had felt it because his beloved mother told him. With a start so abrupt he made everyone in the room look at him he lowered his body to the ground.

Hvitserk looked at his little brother who crawled over the unconscious Saxon girl. Faster then he ever crawled. As if she was the only thing that would keep him alive, that she was the last drop of water for a dying man. His whole body covered hers and he was only breaths away from her. The look on his face was a fuse of shock, astounding, revelation and skepticism. But also, if you were close enough, fear. He looked as if the biggest treasure lay under him. The other vikings in the room stopped at what they were doing and observed what their leader would do. No one said a word. There wasn't even the sound of a single breath. Ivar's eyes didn't even blink as he slowly graced her face with his bloodied hand. Leaving a small trail of blood on her cold face. Who was this girl?

“Ivar, what it is? What are you doing?”

Ivar could only vaguely hear his big brothers words. But they came through the haze he was trapped in and with a small voice, so quiet Hvitserk had to lean closer to the two bodies lying on the ground to even hear him, he said:

“I don't feel any pain in my legs.”

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Thanks for reading and let me know what you think about this. I have an idea for a little series with this.

Hope everyone has an awesome day!

#history vikings #vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar imagine #ivar x y/n #my work #ivar fanfic

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footballxwrites · 3 years

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Ridiculously in love with your writing so giving another one😂

So read reports that Christian pulisic maybe going back to the bundesliga to play for Bayern so maybe you could write one on that where he feels guilty for not having been able to probably make it work in Chelsea. He’s been with his fiance since they were like 12 and she’s a British citizen and an arsenal fan so she was definitely the happiest when they moved to london as because she runs her own company and their main office is in London. Christian feels like a crap fiancé also because now she’ll have to travel up and down every other week like she did when they were in Dortmund, and she’s done and sacrificed so much for him and he couldn’t even make it work so she can be in her hometown for once and also be with her family, plus they’re looking to start a family so this travelling business and not having grandparents around the corner isn’t ideal either. With all this plus not starting games plus family stuff weighing him down, he starts to be distant from her and she obviously notices. She gives him a bit of space at the beginning but then quickly realises that they should talk about it like they always have in their relationship. So she brings it up and he lets out everything and she’s like “ don’t be stupid, I want the best for your career and if that’s in freaking Finland well go there, you’ve had a tough year and not the ideal start to your time at Chelsea ans that’s okay. Everyone has set backs but we need to make a comeback so we’re gonna do what’s best for you and then go from there. Europe is small and London to Munich or wherever it is isn’t too bad at all, plus you know I genuinely like travelling for work. And when the kids come we’ll just figure out a schedule that puts them first and have you seen our parents, they’re gonna be coming and seeing us all the time. It’s fine, we’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be just fine” and then Christian is just crying by then because how did he get so lucky blah blah blah... can’t wait for this one xxxxxx

Long Distance Love ♡

𝖧𝖺𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎! 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 (𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗅)...𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾 😅𝗑

January 10 2021

Suddenly, you felt him stir slightly, readjusting his arms that were snaked around your body, which made your head shoot up to gaze at him, seeing his eyes fluttering open and a lazy smile creep upon his lips as he leaned into a kiss. His arms were quick to pull your waist against his so your head was flat on his chest, listening to the peaceful sound of his heartbeat, instantly making you feel at home. You little moment was cut short when his phone went off and he rushed out the room with a groan, leaving you annoyed and your heart pounding, having a feeling you knew exactly what the phone call was about, hoping he come back and give you the answer you wanted to hear...

“It’s gone through...the transfer” he sorrily spoke, making your breath hitch in your throat, although knowing it was a high possibility of the move actually happening, a part of you was certain he’d be staying here in central London for at least another year. “Guess you’d better get packing then” you softly laughed, feeling disheartened to say the least, the words of “it’s happening” not being the ones you wanted to fall from his lips, “look can we talk about this properly-“ he began, reaching for your hand as you swiftly dodged his grip and made your way to the bathroom, ready for a complete meltdown about everything, “No I have to get ready for work...while I still have my own business” you trailed off, letting the door close behind you with a slam...

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January 2 2019

"The real question is, how did I get so lucky?" you giggled before he gently pushed the mug of coffee into your hands while leaning in to plant a small kiss on your forehead. Instantly, that warm feeling flew through your body just from the smallest, loving touch he gave you, it never getting old. “Good morning, beautiful." he mumbled against your lips, before wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his head on top of yours, “and a very good morning to you handsome” you smiled, feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in a while, lifting your gaze to him, love dancing in your eyes as you leaned in to clasp your mouths together.

"Kissing you never gets old," you mutter softly as you both pull away, Christian flashing you a cheeky grin before spotting his luggage packed and ready for the off beside the front door of your new complex, a sigh falling from his lips, “can’t believe I arrived here a week ago and I’m already flying back to Germany” he frowned, pulling a pout. “It’s only six months and it’ll be over before you know it, I’m not going to lie I will miss living over there, especially the weather” you giggled, messing up his perfectly gelled hair to which you got no thanks for, “hands off, this took ages to do” he said, pretending to be serious and grabbing your hand as if to say ‘go on do it again I dare you’. “I’m gonna miss you, the apartment’s gonna seem empty without you here...and it means I have to build all the flat pack furniture from IKEA myself” you huffed, pointing at the hundreds of cardboard boxes filling the spacious room as he laughed, culling your face and running a finger along your cheek, “you’ll be fine, we’ll FaceTime every night and whenever we have a minute spare because you’re gonna be busy as hell now...my super business woman” he winked as you shook your head, still not quite believing you actually own a company, like a whole ass company belonged to you and it was mad to just even picture it.

“Ah shut up, you’re making me blushing Mr Pullisic, now go before you miss that flight of yours” you grinned, going in for one last peck while shoving him out the door with a struggle, feeling like his clingy self wasn’t ever gonna leave, “I love you, see you in half a year” he happily said, grabbing his many cases and walking out, letting the door gently fall closed...

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July 1 2019

The classic iPhone ping went off as an incoming text message lit up your phone screen, instantly opening the pic attachment of him saying ‘en route’ which meant he was on his way and by god you couldn’t wait to just see him in person after all this time. He barely got through the front door before you took a leap, linking your legs around his torso as his hands secured under your thighs to carry your weight. Squeezing him tight, you rested your head in the crook of his neck, enjoying his presence as a laugh escaped his lips, “missed me just a bit?” he stupidly asked, not even bothering to let you answer before smashing his lips on yours for the first time what felt like in forever.

Gently tapping your legs, he slowly placed you feet on the ground and then cupped your face, pulling you in for another long, loving kiss, “so how’s everything been then, and by the way you’ve done a good job decorating this place” he nodded, eyes gazing at all the modern interior, “funny you asked, I managed to open two more branches this week, one in Gateshead up north and the other in Manchester!” you exclaimed letting out a small squeal, not able to control your excitement any longer as his eyes went wide with joy. “I didn’t think you could make me any prouder but I guess I was wrong eh” he gushed, heading over to sort out his cases, “I’m saying the same about you” you laughed as he pulled out a couple man of the match awards along with a jersey signed by all the teammates. “It felt strange to say goodbye to them after all these years...but it’s time for a fresh start, here in London with Chelsea Fc and with you” he whispered, excited for the new chapter in your lives to finally begin.

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The next year could only be described as perfect for the both of you, his career taking off and loving every moment at the club, getting along with everyone in the dressing room and then loving the fans and atmosphere within the stadium, and knowing you were in the stands somewhere cheering on your ‘captain America’ made it all the more special. As for you, your company was doing beyond amazing, going from National to world wide, owning buildings in Dubai, Spain and you’ll never guess where, Germany. Your main branch was of course London, where the company was founded and to which was the office you managed and were based at, meaning you rarely visited the abroad ones but you weren’t complaining, with you being a London gal to be in your home city with your own bloody business was unimaginable, not to mention you were only a 20 mins drive from your family.

Oh yeah and he popped the question about four months into the move on your eight year anniversary which you of course said yes to, already having planned out your dream wedding, the pair of you agreeing to have it here rather than America with work and travel and all that malarkey.

For the first time in ages, it all seemed to be coming together for yous...

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January 10 2021

8 hours later and the two of you hadn’t spoken all day, with him going off to what you assumed was his last training session and proceeding to ignore you and your many questions, you decided to go to work too, trying to get this whole moving countries once again after only one fucking year back home thing off your mind.

“Right that’s it, you’re going to talk to me Christian because you must think I’m a mind reader or something and I can just tell what’s going in in that brain of yours” you said, stumbling through the door and throwing your keys in the side before throwing yourself on the sofa beside your sad looking boyfriend. “I’m sorry” was all he could say, looking down at the ground leaving you with a confused frown on your face, “enough with the apologies, I just want to know what this means, for us” you sighed, placing a hand on his cheek and giving it a small pinch, hoping it’d put a smile on his lips.

“Well I’m definitely leaving Chelsea, guess not everything works out...but it means I’m back off to Germany” he said as you slowly nodded, “you have to do what’s best for your career, ok?” you smiled, running a hand through his hair as he was quick to shake his head, “no I can’t. I don’t wanna leave you, not again. And anyways we’re supposed to be trying for a baby and that’s going to be a challenge if we’re in different countries don’t you think?” he’s spoke with a slight laughter. “I’m not arguing with you Pullisic, go and sign that contract and get yourself away to Germany to revive your job. I’m not saying I’m going to drop everything and move again because I have my work and life, but I can easily fly out and visit, you’re forgetting I have an office over there. As for kids, we’ll get to that part when it comes around...so just take one step at a time and get on the phone to your agent to tell him you’re taking the transfer” you blurted out with a soft smile, knowing exactly what you were saying and that this was just another step in your life, at the end of the day, life isn’t life without it’s challenges along the way...❤️

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If you got this far reading it, I hope you enjoyed it! x

@kingkepa @champagne-coys @footballcloud @footballmagical @alexajanecollins @masonmounts @hoely-pavard @hazardybala @jamesmaddiscnx

#football #footballer #football blurb #footballer imagine #christian pulisic #chelsea fc

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el-oh-her · 3 years

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You CAN be oppressed for being Christian. You CANT be opressed for being white: an opinion from a religion student

Okay so obviously the first thing you’re gonna want to say is how I’m wrong and just whining. That’s just an indication you don’t actually care what I have to say.

SO, let’s talk about this distinction.

Christians

You CAN be oppresed as a christianity. It has happened. A bunch of times throughout history! When Christianity emerged it was an oppressed group in Rome. In Japan christians were being tortured and executed for their faith in paranoia of losing parts of their culture (fearing culteral erasure is a valid fear, murdering people is still wrong). People moved to mainland america BECAUSE they were christians fleeing religious opression.

The fish symbol

This, was a symbol for christians to identify each other in secret.

Even in America it has happened. When the Irish were fleeing the famine, a lot migrated to the United States and one of the many reasons they were not liked was because the majority of them were Catholics. Catholics historically have had a terrible time in the united states, and are often blamed for a LOT of shit. JFK and Amy Coney Barret (look I don’t like the lady but it did happen with her) both faced an unusual line of questioning regarding their catholic faith that was not obersved with protestants who were applying for the same position. There’s a reason why Catholics will distinguish themselves from christians, because again it’s an idenity that unites them. So, even within the christian faith, there is a denomination that isn’t exactly loved.

Now, it’s worth to note this hate of Catholics comes from centuries of catholic opression in europe. So, is the anger unfounded? No. Does that mean everyone should be nice to catholics? NO. It’s the catholic’s job to be better than their ancestors, and if they’re not doing that, then they’re just as much as apart of the problem.

This same thing applies to modern christains in America. The hate and distrust towards them is due to 200 years of being oppressive. So, is the anger unfounded? No. Does that mean you should just be nice to christians? NO. If they are being assholes, they are just as bad as their ancestors.

There are christians who are not like the shit you see on TV, I promise. But don’t be nice to ANYONE who’s an asshole because they belong to one group or another. That’s just life. There is no community that will ever absolve you from being an asshole. But also, don’t be mean to a christian just because that’s what they are. Don’t be mean to anyone because they’re apart of one group or another. That’s just not nice. And no one is going to be able to get along if you’re just mean, even if it is a group that has been on top historically. A kind person is a kind person at the end of the day, and a mean one is a mean one.

And just to note: if someone is debating whether or not human rights belong to one group or another, that is not a nice person. I know plenty of christians (for example) who are very pro choice, pro gay, pro women, pro science etc. You don’t have to like someone if they really believe that your human rights aren’t necessary.

Are christians being oppressed in America right now? No. No they are not. The WORST thing happening is that genuine practioners are going to have to navigate the social sphere with the lasting effect christian conservative radicles. That is a challenge that christians will just have to deal with, and is a result of letting shit like this get out of hand.

So to conclude: Christians can and have historically been opressed, but they aren’t currently being opressed in America.

White

Now, I am sure that after offending the liberal side, now the conservative side is angry because I said you can’t be oppressed for being white.

Here is the important distinction: You can be a white person who has faced opression, but that opression will never be because you are white.

The concept of whiteness is not an old concept. It’s emergence was to “other” certain minority groups. It only exists to create a distinction between groups, most noteably the difference between white and POC.

Because when you think about it, what even is white? “White” is basically an umbrella term for “Pale skinned, usually european, usually protestant, usually straight, usually wealthy” or “Pale skinned americans who are usually european, usually protestant, usually straight, usually wealthy.” There is a white culture, but not in the way we usually talk about culture. It’s exclusionary at its base, and anyone who fits the bar gains all the benefits of being white.

Like I hate to be that gal, but if I were asked to describe a white person I would say “A white, straight, protestant, billionare man from the south.” And that doesn’t exist for no reason. Historically, (besides the south part) the white straight protestant wealthy man was a pinacale american, and it’s only through the fight for human rights that the tearm has broadened enough to where being white is mostly just being pale. Like, make no mistake, today the only checkbox you have to tick is looking white, and you’re going to be able to go far.

White supremecy is often tied to american patriotism. So let’s look at the things that people have said that makes others unamerican, or what is considered the socially undesireable in America in the eyes of white supremecists

Being Gay

Being transgender

Not adhereing to gender binaries

Being Mulsim

Being Jewish

Being homeless

Being poor

(in history) being a woman

Feminine men

Men wearing skirts and dresses

Being black

Being mexican

Fighting for Social Justice

Speaking languages that are not English (ASL excluded, since I’ve never seen it, but feel free to comment)

So, if these are the things that the white supremecists point as unamerican or undeseraible, it’s an indication that these are qualities that are considered “not white” That is the closest thing we can get to white culture--a culture based on exclusion.

In modern day, being white can get you far. It’s important to know that historically, being white alone wasn’t enough. we know this from the Irish who were catholic, and poor and fleeing a famine. White was this VIP club that was nearly impossible to get into.

So, if being White is this exclusionary club that only emerged to other minority groups, then you can’t opresss it. “White” is synonomous with “Oppressor” because of this historical context. What this means is that IF people were being prejuduced for being nothing but white, they wouldn’t be white anymore in this sense. The quality of being white would no longer be something that lets you into the this exclusive club.

And also, white people will NEVER be oppressed because that’s not really how society WORKS anymore. In a dystopic novel MAYBE, but in reality, all the oppressed groups aren’t like “kill all white people” but are rather like “hey, how about white people and anyone that’s not a white people be treated exactly the same socially and systemically.” Do you know how much WORK it would take to systematically oppress white people? Do you really think, that the people who want diveristy want to kick white people out of the circle? No! No! That’s NOT how it works! Diveristy is for everyone, even white people because guess what: there is more to you than being just WHITE!

You have an ethnicity that’s not white. You’re irish, or german, or french or African or something!!!. Just fucking pick one and be proud of being THAT and not an idenity that literally exists to oppress. Being proud of being AMERICAN isn’t a fucking bad thing, being proud ot be WHITE is.

Even if you are rich, male, straight, cisgender, and protestant, those are all still groups you belong to that can harmoniously co-exist with other groups.

BLACK people have a black culture because, ding dong, white people took them and enslaved them. They don’t have the privlage of knowing their ethnic origin, and were FORCED to make a whole ass new one. THAT’S why there’s a black culture. It’s a direct result of white oppression, so quit bitching about it.

PEOPLE OF COLOR have united to create a culture becuse of 2 CENTURIES of being othered by WHITE PEOPLE. THAT’S why they have a culture. Pan Indianism is a result of dumbass white people grouping them all together and stupidly thinking they’re all the same. They united in solidarity because it was the only way to keep a fragment of their idenity. The White Idenity has always tried to destory anything that doesn’t fit Whiteness.

Why, fucking WHY would you want to be proud of that?

You can be white and face oppression for being gay, trans, a woman, poor, akward or anything at all. YOUR SKIN COLOR WILL NEVER EVER BE THE REASON WHY YOU’RE BEING TREATED UNFAIRLY. YOUR SKIN COLOR WILL NEVER MAKE LIFE MORE DIFFICULT FOR YOU. YOUR SKIN IS A PRIVLAGE. I don’t care how much you don’t want to believe it: it will never be becuase you’re white. It will be because of something else.

In Summery: The concept of white is inherently tied to the concept of oppresssion, since they’ve historically tried (sometimes succesfully) to obliterate other cultures that don’t fit the white aesthetic. You cannot oppress something that’s was literally created to oppress, and is not an idenity worth being proud of.

The conclusion

As much as it feels like Christians can’t be oppressed, the fact of the matter is that the religion was not designed or intended to oppress others, and have been historically oppressed. That’s what makes being christian different from being white, because the concept of whiteness emerged as a method of oppression.

This doesn’t mean you should just be nice to christians because they’re christians. An asshole is an asshole, no matter what idenities they wear. Also, christians aren’t currently being oppressed. The “plights” that the radicales think they’re facing are more so just like, the USA being secular and not appealing to them.

I feel like they often get mixed together because of how tied up protestantism is with white supremecy. Which is fair, as being protestant is a part of this exclusionary white culture.

Disclaimer: As I have said many many times, this is not a post that is like “Stop being mean to christians!!!!” An asshole is an asshole. Don’t be nice to people who don’t believe in your human rights. Don’t be nice to people just because they belong to this group or that group. This post, also several times, has stated that in the current climate, christians are not being oppressed, not in the slightest. So when you read about some christian talking about their oppression, it’s most likely the American Government being secular, and refusing to bend for the christian agenda.

This post’s goal was to show you the distinction between christianity and whiteness, and most importantly show the real enemy: white supremicists.

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laufire · 3 years

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SPN (I am sorry, I have to xDD)

How are you not tired of hearing me talk about SPN. Hoooow xDD.

Anyway, for the meme’s purpose: I’m caught up with exactly where I left the show the first time around, aka the s4 finale.

the first character I ever fell in love with: Ruby, hands down. I already knew she was a demon going in (3x01 was my first episode ever), but even if I hadn’t I would’ve fallen for her with the reveal in 3x02. She remains my fave and one of the greatest characters in the entire show, IMO. The best of those sons of bitches!

a character that I used to love/like, but now do not: hmm, n/a for now I guess? Beyond my back and forth with everything Dean Winchester I guess xDD

a ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: same?

my ultimate favourite character™: Ruby, although Castiel has a lot going for him and he could have an edge later on.

prettiest character: I’m going with Bela Talbot, although there are countless beautiful characters (women) in this show. But like. The way they styled her especially?? She was in SIX EPISODE, sometimes in as little as just one (1) scene?? But they went ALL OUT. Honorable mention to young!John Winchester. He had NO RIGHT to be so stupidly pretty. He was Dick Grayson pretty!! Dick Grayson!! It’s horrible xD

my most hated character: Dean. Our relationship is Complicated(TM) (he’s a Schrödinger fave lol), but he’s particularly irksome in s4 so (MUST he be Right All The Time, even when he’s being a massive piece of shit?? Tell me again how it’s okay for your brother to die during detox because “at least he dies human!!” you walking waste).

my OTP: Samruby forevah and evah. I have a pretty nice shipping armada with this show already, and as you can personally attest I could probably ship Castiel with a rock xD, but Samruby has a very special place in my heart. It was very formative.

my NOTP: there are some ships that I sort-of-hate because of Dean’s involvement but I have to admit they don’t leave me ~unaffected smh xD. Ask me again about those in a few seasons. At this moment, I’d say John/Mary, because I find the whole Cupid-made-them-do-it-but-their-endgame-is-still-together incredibly offputting.

favourite episode: arrrrgh this one is so difficult. The top candidates are 3x03 (Bela’s intro), 3x12 (Ruby’s GLORIOUS “I told you so” *-*) 4x09-10 (they kinda go together. Sexy Samruby flashbacks, Anna’s intro, Deanruby reluctant in-laws nonsense, Anna/Castiel(/Dean) shenanigans...), and 4x16 (gr10 Castiel and Anna/Castiel moments, perfect Samruby, Dean at his most entertaining...).

saddest death: Ruby’s is more frustrating than sad (she could’ve been such a good addition to later plots ugh. Not to mention, I’m still pissed Dean is the one who had the killshot. Ruby, Sam, and myself all deserved for the one who stabbed her to be Sam ¬¬. Hell, based on how they talked about it in 15x13, I’m clearly not the only one who feels this way lol).

favourite season: hmm... s4 has a lot of frustrating things but I did devour it eagerly, so xD. For now, s4. s3 is really close too, but I keep going back to how awful I felt after “Ghostfacers”, so.

least favourite season: s4 in a way too xDD. IDK, tbh I can’t pick a “least” fave, they all had that... greatness marinated in bigotry and hypocritical protagonist-centered morality aftertaste xDD

a character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: the hate part of my love-hate relationship with Dean goes here, I GUESS. And huh, saying “hate” would be a stretch because I did like his appearances, but I get the feeling the fandom’s hardon for Gabriel, of all the freaking angels, is going to annoy me at some point.

my ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Dean lol. And also Chuck aka God. Like, where else I’m going to get such a chaotic canonically bisexual, Big Bad Christian God that’s also a metaphor for writers xDD. And if I’m honest, most of my SPN faves/characters should go here. Who isn’t a piece of trash sometimes in this show, really.

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: given the morality curve on this show, at this point BELA is the better fit lmfao. Jack will probably go here too.

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but I still love it’ ship: if I feel no shame about Samruby, I don’t see how I’d feel it for anything else lol. I look forward to shipping Castiel and Lucifer, for one :P

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: hmm... Bobby/Rufus? The ex-married vibes they give off are A Lot, and I haven’t even seen them interact in a proper scene xDD. Out of all the ships I’m into they’re the only one that SO FAR could be said to be “lowkey”, everything else is “GIVE IT TO ME NOW” or “I don’t want to be into this, but I am. Dammit” xDD.

#missbrunettebarbie #replies #talking to the void #my thoughts #spn thoughts #supernatural #ttl #ty!

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Bound and Determined || Heahmund x Ivar

❛ pairing | ivar x heahmund

❛ type | oneshot: modern

❛ summary | frustrated by ivar’s lack of mobility, sigurd pops off at his brother. Ivar runs away, and finds someone that takes care of him.

❛ requests | Hi love! For 5CW, could I request a fic (clearly Modern!Ivar) including the following sentences : 1) put your crippled ass in this fucking wheelchair ; 2) I thought slavery had been abolished. Thank you so much 💖💖💖

Can I request Ivar x Heahmund with some fluff and maybe some angst please

❛ warnings | modern, ableism, sibling abuse, yelling, ubbe is useless, OI issues, asshole sigurd, slash

Since his OI was acting up, his doctor put him in this chair with wheels. Plenty of kids had this shit… a wheelchair. But for most of Ivar’s life, he was on two feet. The crutch made him feel… relatable to everyone on the outside. Especially to his brothers.

While Hvitserk never held his disorder against him, he knew that Sigurd did. In a way, that was better than Ubbe who always seemed so fucking afraid of him. That wasn’t everything. It was part of why he always felt so… so…

“Maybe he can’t go up this way,” Hvitserk says softly. “Sigurd can carry him. I’ll take the things.”

“We can’t leave his wheelchair here. Mor paid--”

“I know how much she paid,” Sigurd growls.

It’s one of those days. One of those days where Sigurd is upset with something that Ivar can’t do. There was no ADA access at this park. Despite having hiked up some way, it got to be too much on his arms. Following that, Sigurd pushed him through… until Ubbe put a stop to it. The wheels might burst and then, of course, Mother would not be happy.

“I don’t know why I’m always stuck picking up your slack.” Sigurd bites out, bending down on his knees. He throws a glare back at him, past fluffy blond hair that hangs in his sweaty face. “Hurry up. Get on me if you’re going to.”

“This isn’t what I--”

“I fucking know. I don’t care. Hurry up! I thought slavery had been abolished. But here I am, carrying my crippled brother up a fucking hill because you can’t walk long distances anymore.”

Sigurd says the words with a mock. Ivar’s eyes settle on his thighs, and he can’t help the wave of shame that comes over him when his brother goes on. “You USED to be able to walk. What happened to that?”

His bones snapped, cracking as he tumbled down the stairs with a slip. It felt like hours until father came rushing in the house, barking, Ivar! Ivar! Since then, that moment where he blacked out and did not come to until moments after when his neck was pulsing and mother was looking at him like he had already died, nothing had been right.

“You think I don’t want to be walking?” Ivar snaps.

“I think you aren’t trying hard enough.”

With Ubbe saying a whole lot of nothing, Sigurd’s words punch him low in the stomach. It boils over, spilling stupid tears over his high cheekbones that inch down his pale cheeks. Ivar throws himself out of his wheelchair, catching himself on his forearms as he crawls with force over the ground.

“Where are you going?” Ubbe says at last. “Ivar. Ivar!”

“Let him go,” Sigurd stops his older brother as if he was the oldest, and the others the younger ones. He stands upright, running his hand through his fluffy blond hair and looking up, heavy in his sigh. “Shit.”

They fought again.

What Ivar hated the most was the pebbles that scratched his pale legs when he dragged himself over the gravel. Or the jagged rocks on the way down to the river where he could slide his hips in and act as if nothing in the world mattered but the cool water that washed away his worries. He nearly tumbles on his quest to the water, where the sound of rushing water guides him, and where he cleans his face with the stream of water over and over.

It’s almost ritualistic if not for the wracking sobs that broke from his lips. A man like him couldn’t cry with his father there. No, not once. He slaps the water over and over, and his hand forms a fist, cracking knuckles upon the rocks underneath.

“Fuck!”

His bones ache, again, and he knows he’s broken something again. His brittle bones… Ivar curses them again. His head bows, and through his peripheral vision, he spots boots. Brown thick boots. Ubbe, maybe. If he’s lucky. Sigurd, if he’s not.

“Pop your knuckles?”

The voice is akin to Ubbe’s. He turns his head up to the man that kneels before him. His sleeves are shorn near his shoulders. The shorts cut at his knees, and he wears a simple but good pair of sneakers. He looks as if he should be important, regarding him with his well-kept beard and a backpack full of supplies for hiking. Ivar retracts his hands from the water and tucks them under his chest like some stubborn cat.

“It’s fine,” he hears himself say, questioning how to bring himself up to sit without giving himself away.

“They’ll become infected.”

The man stretches out, pulling his hands for inspection. Ivar twists in his direction, suddenly deeply attuned to the fact that his knuckles were probably hot red. The stab of pain rhythmically followed any digit he moved.

“I see,” the man says, the edges of his mouth tugging up. “You’ve broken them.”

“Must have--” Ivar begins, broken off when the man switches to help him to sit. Almost as if he had known what happened all along. He doesn’t ask what was wrong with his body. That was usually everyone’s first question. What was wrong.

“Fingers are tricky.” The man unzips his bag, his gravelly voice deepening. “There’s nothing I can do for them but clean them.”

Typical, mother did the same. She would clean them and pray at her altar for him. The man cleans his stinging wounds. Then, as if in prayer, he falls to his knees and takes his hands. Ivar wants to shrill-- to yell and ask what this fucker his doing. Something about him stop those words from ever forming. A furrow of confusion creases his puffy forehead. Ivar notices that the man’s lips trace the wounds, chanting soft words into what can only be a prayer.

My Father in Heaven.

Ivar isn’t Christian. It’s not his way, nor his interest. Such a thought of praying to god over his wounds never entered his mind. Prayer, however, offers something more than simply… well, pain. It gives him something else to focus upon.

“Amen,”

“Ivar. What is your name?” Ivar asks easily.

“Heahmund.”

“Why are you here?” He asks Heahmund, the mystery man. “You don’t look like a hiker.”

“No? I guess not. I’m a missionary.”

One of those types. Mother told him all about them. It scared her to have her son meet one and diverge from the old ways. Ivar, solid in his faith, pulls his fingers free from the stranger’s hands. He pulls his legs around and wipes off the rubble.

“I’m not in need of ‘saving,’” he tells him.

“No,” Heahmund says, tingling with tension. “But I am.”

“You are?” he scoffs. “You have a perfectly fine body. You’re a medic. What can you possibly need saving from?”

“Sin.”

Ivar’s brows lift, high on his forehead as if he’s listened to one too many tales of bullshittery in the past few minutes. “You make no sense.”

“I know.” Heahmund agrees, lifting his hand to his hair in a small and soft caress. He’s used to Ubbe ruffling his hair, shoving him over, laughing. He misses his brother’s gravely voice and warm smile. “And you? What are you looking for?”

He still wasn’t sure. But saying he wasn’t sure would sound stupid. His eyes meet Heahmunds, and he finds his cheeks warming, stupidly. He is a handsome man. He considers that perhaps, in some way, maybe he was looking for a friend. More than a friend. Much more than a friend. The women never looked at him.

“It’s not important.”

Ivar scratches the side of his arm. But he wants to tell him. He turns to look from where he came before. The hill isn’t far to get down to the stream. Not going down. Coming up, however, was a completely different thing. Heahmund kneels beside him.

“Well. come on. I’ll take you up.”

“Why would you do that?” he demands. If his own brother would not… or, not without lip, why should a stranger?

“You’ll kill the wildlife if I leave you here. You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”

A hunter? Ivar cocks his head to the side as he regards Heahmund, the traveler. In his years, he had been called many things. Ivar the hunter was not one of them. Ivar scoots to the man, carefully throwing his arms over his shoulders. The alternative to going with him was waiting down here until Ubbe or Sigurd decided to come down. That wasn’t happening.

Heahmund lifts him up, squeezing his ass just once, and Ivar swears to himself that was more than a I’m-Gonna-Help-The-Cripple squeeze. Heahmund starts up the hill. A glistening golden charm beats over his chest with every bounce of his legs. Ivar buries his nose in the man’s shoulder, taking in the scent of a musky cologne. The saltiness of sweat mingles with it.

“Ivar!”

His brothers spot them coming out of a line of brush. They don’t say anything to him, not at first, not until Sigurd spats, “Where did you run off to? Are you crazy? Put your crippled ass in this wheelchair!”

Some form of love, or maybe cathexis, hides behind those words. Ubbe settles Ivar’s legs as the traveler clears his throat. “You shouldn’t speak to your brother that way. He’s been gifted to you.”

Sigurd turns up his head once he’s inspected Ivar’s hands. Mother would want him to make sure her precious son was alright. But once he looked up, the man has gone-- and Ivar’s frown along with it. When he looks back to Ivar, he smiles cheek to cheek.

@kirah35, @generic-fangirl

#Ivar x Heahmund #Ivar/Heahmund #slash #m x m #honestsycrets #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic

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literary-masochism · 4 years

Text

Midnight Sun: Chapter One - My Descent Into Madness

(reposted from my blog)

I kind of want to be dramatic and say I have a long, sordid history with Twilight, but I’m not sure that’s accurate. I do have a history, but it is one of pain, tears, and frustration.

I’m a firm believer in reading a ‘bad’ book to form your own opinion on it instead of just believing what you’re told...

The criticisms against Twilight were more than justified.

It took me multiple attempts to get through the first book – The first time I didn’t even finish the first chapter. I loathed Bella Swan from the moment we met her. She whined nonstop, she bitched nonstop, and was instantly so shallow and two-faced to everyone she met that I wanted to punch her in her (at the time) nondescript face.

But I tried again and again and finally finished the series. I remember crying during the Breaking Dawn because nothing was fucking happening and there was so much left in the book and I just wanted it to END.

Then my brain, trying to save me, made me forget everything about what I read. When I realized what had happened, I checked my Goodreads to make sure I did, in fact, read those books and they weren’t just a fever dream sent by the forces of evil to torment me.

As much as I appreciated the attempt, I earned those scars... at least audiobooks are easier to get through, even though I had to pause them to rage, again, at the idiocy.

And now... Now we have Midnight Sun. I believe I skimmed the leaked book but never gave it any real attention... so, of course, the full book gets released the day after my 34th birthday.

Joy.

But it gives me an excuse to try something I always wanted to do: Snarking bad books... because if I have to suffer, you might as well too!

So... without further delay... here is the first chapter, as seen by me, of Midnight Sun.

Chapter 1: First Sight

We open up with Edward being a melodramatic prick about having to go to school and how boring it is.

THIS WAS THE TIME OF DAY WHEN I MOST WISHED I WERE ABLE TO SLEEP.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there were any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

Followed quickly by how much humans, especially teenagers, suck absolute ass.

When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body. It took so little to work them up. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human girl. The excitement over her arrival was tiresomely predictable—it was the same reaction as one would get from flashing a shiny object at a group of toddlers. Half the sheep-like males were already imagining themselves infatuated with her, just because she was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Don’t you just love him already?

This is only the first page... It’s not even a full page... Edward tells us how he tries not to listen to his siblings then tells us exactly what his siblings are thinking.

He shames Rosalie for thinking about how hot she is, but since that’s her only personality trait we ever got in the entire saga (besides bitch), I’m not that worked up over it. She’s hot and she knows it.

Emmett is just thinking about kicking Jasper’s ass which, I feel, is a goal everyone should aspire to because Jasper’s thoughts...

And Jasper was… suffering.

GOOD

Alice mentally calls his name and Edward is kind enough to let us know that it’s just the same as if someone said it out loud... you know, because we’re too dumb to work that out ourselves.

Also, he is so thankful that the name EDWARD has ‘fallen out of style’ in the last few decades.

Alice is worried about Jasper slaughtering everybody within a ten-mile radius because he’s become a literal statue (because Meyerpires are made of stone and this is in no way a ripoff of Anne Rice) and, stupidly, she asks Edward how he’s doing...

I guess Alice forgot she could, you know, SEE INTO THE FUTURE. Because checking to see if your boyfriend is about to go on a murder spree is a telepathy situation.

She relaxed. Let me know if it gets too bad.

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

Thanks for doing this.

YOU CAN SEE THE GOD DAMN FUTURE!

Was it really necessary to experiment this way? Wouldn’t the safer path be to just admit that he might never be able to handle his thirst as well as the rest of us could, and not push his limits? Why flirt with disaster?

YES! WHY?!

For a group of vampires that don’t want to kill humans, so we’re told, they certainly don’t give a fuck if they kill humans.

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally—if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand: We were a danger that must be avoided.

So... which is it?

Edward thinks about how oblivious the humans around them are and how they avoid the ‘odd-looking’ group.

Okay, if I had to guess, the avoidance has more to do with how fucking weird you are. A group of five incredibly attractive (And yet odd-looking? Sure Meyer) teenagers sitting by themselves with full trays of food that they don’t eat, all while wearing designer clothing. They don’t talk to each other, they barely even look at each other...

That’s fucking weird. THEY’RE WEIRD.

Meyer: They’re either so attractive as to lure their prey in for the kill or they’re so inhuman looking that no one wants to go near them. It can’t be both.

Anyway, a girl walks by and Edward starts frothing at the mouth while he and Jasper get a vampire erection over Jasper imagining MURDERING AN INNOCENT GIRL.

Also, calling her a ‘little girl’ is very creepy in an entirely different way. Just sayin’.

Edward snaps Jasper out of it and Alice lies and says he wasn’t going to slaughter an innocent human being in the middle of the cafeteria.

We had to stick together, Alice and I. It wasn’t easy, being the freaks among those who were already freaks.

Shut the ever-loving-fuck up.

And Alice, ever-so-helpfully, reminds Jasper to think of humans as people... because, you know, they aren’t really. Not compared to vampires anyway.

Someone mentally says the name ‘Edward’ so Edward turns to them as though they had actually called his name. Only it was in his head, not in real life. In case you didn’t catch that. That Edward is telepathic... so he hears thoughts as though they were being spoken to him. That’s why he looked over when someone thought his name.

In case you didn’t understand what was going on.

This is the first time Edward sees Bella and... he gives no fucks. But wait! Turns out it was Jessica Stanley thinking about him, not Bella!

In fact, Jessica thinks Bella is already crushing on all the Cullens.

Good for you, Jessica, not assuming Bella is only after the undead D. Rosalie/Bella shippers thank you.

Edward is relieved Jessica got over her fixation on him (because it’s totally normal for teenager girls to crush on weird-looking weirdos). He then goes on to show he has no idea how teenage girls (or adult women for that matter) work:

What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced fixation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. I’d wished, at the time, that I could explain to her exactly what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near her. That would have silenced those annoying fantasies.

That is the exact fantasy most TwiHards were having.

Jessica complains that she doesn’t see why all the boys are looking at Bella, thinking she’s ‘not even pretty’. I know this is supposed to make Jessica unlikable but, you know what? That is a very wounded teenage thought process. It’s immature and turning the blame somewhere else but that’s teenagers in a nutshell.

Edward comments on Jessica’s new obsession with Mike Newton – creepily calling him a child.

There is the implication that Jessica’s not a nice person because she’s being outwardly nice to Bella while bad-mouthing her mentally and... that’s such a Christian mentality: the idea that your thoughts matter as much as your actions. Just putting that out there because, clearly, we can see what Meyer’s opinion on that is… as long as it’s one of the Cullens or Bella doing the thinking, it’s fine! In Twilight, Bella was putting down everyone who looked at her until the hideously beautiful Edward was so mean to her.

No, I didn’t forget that shit.

Jessica continues being a teenager girl, hoping that with Bella’s ever-shining light of beauty shining beside her that maybe Senpai Mike will notice her.

And, of course, Edward is an asshole because he’s upset that a teenager girl has teenage thoughts.

He tells Emmett what’s going down with the new girl and tries to listen in on Bella’s thoughts to see what she thinks about all this.

And, because Bella doesn’t actually have thoughts, all Edward hears in the unending howling void.

Edward tells us he has to use his powers to protect his family! He has to listen to everyone’s thoughts in case anyone gets suspicious about the beautiful/weird/attractive/repulsive family in their midst.

I feel like that would be easier if Edward didn’t actively try to ignore everyone.

But sometimes people get it right and the Cullens have to disappear before... I don’t know. Meyerpires are indestructible by humans to the point that they can outrun nuclear bombs. The Vultori might come whine at them for exposing the secret but by that point, the Cullens disappearing would just draw even more attention.

Edward tries to listen to the new girl but gets nothing. He turns to check and all he can see is the brown-void eyes of Bella.

There’s also a bit in there where Edward wonders if Bella is still sitting there because she must be since Jessica is still talking. He turns and sees Bella still sitting there because of course she is, because Jessica is still talking to her. You see, Bella was still there and Edward suspected as much as Jessica was still talking to her because she was still sitting there.

He gets another hard-on as Bella blushes. He comments that she “looked surprised” as she “unknowingly absorbed the signs of subtle differences between her kind and mine.”

Bitch, you don’t know that. You can’t read her fucking thoughts. You’re just assuming this bullshit. This is some of what I remember from skimming the first Midnight Sun. You just make up shit about her personality to suit what you want! Reality is completely optional.

And we get this:

[...] as she listened to Jessica’s tale; and something more… Fascination? It wouldn’t be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey.

You know, the hyper attractiveness that turns people away because of how odd-looking they are but also draws people to them while also making people avoid them because they’re so inhuman.

And yet, though her thoughts had been so clear in her odd eyes—odd because of the depth to them—I could hear only silence from the place she was sitting. Just… silence.

Yes, because she’s the void personified.

Try and keep up.

Edward decides that he’s just not trying hard enough and stops blocking out all the teenager chatter – you know, the chatter he constantly listens to to ensure the safety of his family? That chatter.

Also, shout out to Ashley Dowling for obviously having a crush on Bella.

Angela Weber is the only one not thinking about Bella. I’m sure Meyer’s just trying to show how ‘unusually kind’ she is but... acting like a completely normal person doesn’t really qualify as being ‘unusually kind’.

Then Meyer, again, tries too hard to make Jessica unlikable by having her mentally calling Bella an idiot for asking about Edward Cullen. But since Bella is an idiot...

We get the infamous “He’s gorgeous, obviously.” line even though all of student body finds the Cullens odd-looking and want nothing to do with them.

And Edward gets this strong impulse to protect Bella from Jessica’s nefarious plots to... get mildly more popular for the short time people care that there’s a new student at school. He describes how fragile Bella looks and how translucent her skin is...

Then we get this little gem where Meyer, apparently, forgot Edward can’t read Bella’s mind while describing things he’d only know if he could read her mind.

It was unbelievably frustrating! I could easily see that it was a strain for her to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense her shyness from the way she held her frail-looking shoulders, slightly hunched, as if she was expecting a rebuff at any moment.

This is a one-way street, Meyer. Edward has to stay his ass in his own lane.

Edward informs us that, despite not being able to hear Bella’s thoughts, he’s not going to let himself get too interest in them just because they’re hidden from him... then immediately says he’s going to find out what she thinks no matter what it takes. No matter how petty, trivial, self-absorbed, whiny, and shallow they are! He will find out!

Emmett interrupts Edward’s obliviousness to his own faults and asks if Bella is afraid of them yet.

“They sit by themselves, never talk to anyone, and stare at the wall.” Absolutely terrifying.

Lunch is over and the Cullens to go their classes. Edward is an asshole prepared to be bored because he’s so much smarter than the biology teacher.

He also tells us the reason he has a table to himself is because everyone is avoiding him and they were too stupid to know why. Yes, that is the word he uses.

Such a Prince Charming, isn’t he?

Again, Edward laments his inability to sleep when Angela leads Bella into class! Then Edward remembers he was totally thinking about Bella just now and not wishing he was asleep!

Also, Angela? Shut up.

The Void comes in and Edward still can’t hear her and, in one of the few moments I like, he worries that he’s losing his gift. Don’t worry, nothing comes out of that thought.

Edward notes that the only available seat is beside him so he clears a bit of room for her, feeling sorry that she’s doomed to spend so much time next to his hideousness. BUT THEN!

Bella Swan walked into the flow of heated air that blew toward me from the vent.

Her scent hit me like a battering ram, like an exploding grenade. There was no image violent enough to encompass the force of what happened to me in that moment.

Now comes a page long description of Edward losing his shit. He tells us, multiple times, how much he wants to eat her, how he’ll have to get rid of the witnesses, blah blah blah. It’s basically the same paragraph repeated a few times... But you know what? It’s better than the whiny shit we’ve been getting and it’s nice to actually see the ‘good’ vampires struggle in a not completely idiotic way... so I ain’t that mad at it.

I was actually enjoying it a bit until Meyer stuck her dumb in my chocolate by having Edward rip a bit of wood off the desk. Like no one would have heard that. Or wonder why there’s a pile of sawdust under Edward’s desk.

Edward... I know that you’re far older than anyone in that room but... calling people children is just fucking creepy. Stop.

He calculates the best way to slurp Bella up and kill witnesses in the most efficient way (interrupted occasionally by an eye-roll worthy melodramatic thought about murdering innocents). I would like this if it wasn’t such a stark reminder of how Edward doesn’t actually give two fucks about humans – he just doesn’t want to disappoint his Not-Dad... who, from what we’ve seen in the guide (shudder) doesn’t really seem to care either as long as he’s not the one doing the murdering. They don’t kill people not because they care or want to protect them but because Dad said not to.

Bella sits down beside him (And he’s absolutely sure she’s terrified of him though she’s shown no sign of that and HE CAN’T READ HER THOUGHTS.)

Anyway, he whines that now he has to kill her for existing.

This is another little plothole that bothers me: he doesn’t have to stay in the classroom. He can ask to be excused, say he’s feeling sick or he has to use the bathroom. Yeah, it would draw a few moments of attention but, you know, IT’S BETTER THAN PLOTTING THE MURDER OF THIRTY PEOPLE.

Meyer decides to call me out on that thought and claims:

Every life in this room was in danger while she and I were in it together. I should run. I wanted to run, to get away from the heat of her next to me, and the punishing pain of the burning, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that if I unlocked my muscles to move, even just to stand, I wouldn’t lash out and commit the slaughter I’d already planned.

Fuck you, he only needs to resist for the half-a-dozen seconds it’d take to get out of the room. But no, he’d rather try and resist for an hour instead.

He, again, talks about Bella’s skin and calls it ‘See-through’.

Sexy

Edward’s becomes increasingly paranoid that Bella’s ‘trying to hide her secrets from him’.

Chillax, Eddie. She ain’t that deep.

He changes tactics. He’ll try to get her alone and his plan for this is flawless!

If he asks to walk her to her next class, she has to be polite and say yes! Even though he’s certain she’s terrified of him (because he completely fails at reading human reactions if he can’t read their minds), she’ll have to do the polite thing! Because reasons!

While he doesn’t realize how stupid that is, he does notice that everyone with an interest in ladies is already obsessing over Ms. Swan so people will probably notice him leading her away like the serial killer he is.

So he plots to wait until she gets home to murder her.

And you guys, he just hates her so much! I mean, he hates himself but he hates her for making him hate himself but also her because she exists but also himself but also her but also himself...

And apparently that was his entire thought process for the next hour because class is suddenly over!

Edward runs out of the room – you know, the thing he said he couldn’t do before because even just moving might prompt him to murder everything – and mopes in his car where he realizes that ‘Wait... I don’t have to do the thing’.

He wonders why Alice didn’t break their cover and draw attention to themselves by barging into Edward’s class to help him get rid of either his murder-boner or the bodies caused by his murder-boner. He decides that she’s focusing on making sure Jasper doesn’t get a murder-boner and she’s concentrating ‘vary’ hard on that.

(Is pointing out typos a bit too petty? Maybe but I did it.)

And Edward feels a new burn coursing through his body! The burn of SHAME!

(I'm glad I got to use this Gif so early on!)

I should say that, through out all of this, Edward’s been going on about his little monster (not that one) growling around his head but all I can imagine are the critters from Critters Attack:

He decides to just avoid Bella as much as possible while being in the same building as her and goes to try and change his classes halfway through the semester.

He startles Mrs. Cope by being so vampirey, though humans are too stupid to notice that, because he came in quietly while she wasn’t paying attention. Her panties are immediately soaked at the sight of teenage boy bod (ew) and asks how she could help him. Eddie lays it on thick because... I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she’s not in charge of the classes, so there’s no reason for him to make her flood the office like this...

Even he’s uncomfortable but he still does it. Gross.

Also, statistically, women prefer men close to their own age or slightly older, so...

We get a whole paragraph of Mrs. Cope thinking of how smart and perfect the Cullens are – actually thinking the line ‘Perfect Cullen’.

When she says that he can’t change or drop the class, he tries to stare her into submission, lamenting that his eyes aren’t gold but the terrifying black instead.

Uh... dark dark brown, almost black eyes are pretty common and can be very alluring. Have you forgotten Ben Barnes exists?! Here, I'll remind you:

I’d be more freaked out by the gold.

Bella, of course, interrupts this awkward seduction and sends Edward running with his tail between his legs. He passes by some random guy in the parking lot and, since Edward is so all important, the guy wonders where Edward came from and, instead of deciding he must not have noticed him before (Like a normal person not in a SMeyer book would do) he decides his imagination is getting the better of him.

Edward makes it to the Volvo where the others are waiting. He takes off like a bat out of hell (lawl) and in a moment of stupid where Meyer, once again, forgets how her characters's powers work:

She looked ahead for me now. We both processed what she saw in her head, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

You see... Alice’s visions are based on people’s decisions... Edward didn’t know he was leaving until he saw that Alice saw he was leaving... which makes no sense in the context of what we’ve been given.

And so, after a moment of Edward thinking about killing Bella, he decides to flee the entire country.

And that’s the end of chapter one! It took me way longer than I expected and I used 74 tabs... This is going to be an experience and a half...

Until next time, I'm out!

#Book Snark #Midnight Sun #Twilight

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fandomsnerd24 · 4 years

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Review of Harley Quinn S1E7: “The Line”

Warning: some spoilers ahead!

I have some seriously mixed feelings about this episode (and about this series as well, but more on that later). On the one hand, there were some good aspects and on the other, there were some pretty messed up aspects. There were two plotlines going on in this episode: one that centered around Harley and the other around Ivy.

I’d say the best parts of the episode were with Ivy. This focuses on her going on a date with Kite Man (god, I thought I’d never write something like that, but here we are). And it’s a lot about her going through some personal growth and coming into her own confidence a little more. I liked it. It was nice. Kite Man, amazingly, also underwent a tiny bit of character growth (you have to squint to see it), but they don’t write him quite as bad as they did when they first introduced him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a problematic pig. But I think he’s getting better. Do I like that DC went with the easy, heterosexual route of pairing Ivy with Kite Man? Nope, not at all. I’m actually pretty disappointed in this aspect of their show.

We literally have Ivy and Harley being together in canon. So why the hell couldn’t they angle that that way for this series??? I know a lot of people were hoping for it! As much as I think DC does decently well portraying LGBTQ+ in their various media formats, they still have a ways to go. They don’t get a pass because they have characters who identify outside of the heterosexual patriarchy. They can do better. While I don’t think they’ll ever see this post, this is still my challenge for them to do better on representation.

Anyway, I think that it would have been more meaningful for Harley and Ivy to get together than this stupid Ivy/Kite Man plotline is. Or for them to totally forget about any type of romantic plotline besides Harley working out her issues with Joker and becoming her own woman. I would prefer the no romance to this forced heterosexuality bullshit. Not everything needs romance!! (And this is coming from a soppy romantic.) But still, I’d say Ivy and Kite Man’s interactions are probably the highlight of the episode. Forced heterosexuality aside, Kite Man in this series is absolutely hilarious. I’m going to have to look him up to see if he’s as ridiculous in comics as he is in this series. Because I need more comedy in my life.

I’d say most of the bad lay with Harley’s plotline this episode. So, in this episode, the Queen of Fables is released from her imprisonment in a tax codebook because a judge ruled it as being “cruel and unusual,” which he’s not wrong. It’s nice that they address this. She was then sent to Arkham to serve the rest of her sentence, but Harley broke her out before she got there. Okay, whatever, fine and dandy. Queen of Fables is one fucked up bitch and every time she killed a person, they showed it in graphic detail. Which, okay, I guess this is an adult show. But it was still pretty messed up. And over the line that they set up earlier in the series with everything Harley’s been doing. Harley is a villain, but not necessarily a bad person. She has a lot of humanity in her. To put it simply: Queen of Fables does not. The blood and gore were taken just a little too far in the episode for my tastes. I felt like it didn’t really fit the lighthearted humor and “oooh look we’re the bad guys” campiness that they’ve been doing with the rest of the series.

But. Perhaps not. Maybe it’s completely in line. I read a couple good posts here on Tumblr about how this show has some very antisemitic sentiments with episodes two and six (these are the ones they addressed, there may be some instances in other episodes). Now, when a practicing Jew says something is antisemitic, I’m not going to argue. Another person who self-identified as Jew posted in the comments section that they’re not offended by these lines because this is a show about villains who are all fucked up bad guys. I know there’s going to be Jewish people on both sides of this argument. There’s never not sides when it comes to things like this.

I still had mixed feelings about watching the episode today.

I ultimately decided to watch it. Partially because I remember something one of my Gender, Woman, and Sexuality Studies professors said. The jist of what they said, is that you can like something and still realize that it’s problematic and if you address this. I’m addressing that I realize this show is very problematic in many ways. Antisemitism is not cool. In this house, we love and respect everyone. I’m not trying to justify the writers (and to a certain extent, the producers, actors, and almost everyone else involved in making this show happen) using that type of language. Certainly not my intent. Those in charge of the show should definately be held accountable for this and they should certainly address this and offer up explanations.

Will they? That is debatable. I’m a little surprised by how this is going down because they have so many Jewish characters and because there have been so many Jewish writers and other content creators who’s contributed to DC Comics. I say I’m only a little surprised because it’s hard for humanity to surprise me with their ability to be detestable anymore and because the United States is so dominated by the Christian church and a straight, white worldview. It makes me ask the question: who’s in charge of this series and approves the scripts?

Will I still watch the rest of the series? Probably. Re: what my professor said. Going forward, I’m going to try to be more critical. I’ve done that in some of my previous reviews, but I’ve also been super positive. About episode six, I left a pretty positive review and that’s honestly because I have the privilege of not having to think about how my religion is being portrayed in popular media. Some of the lines that the Tumblr poster mentioned, I didn’t even notice because that’s not where my background leads me to think. Having read some of those posts about what’s going on in the series, I’d probably write a very different type of review for episodes two and six since I’m more aware of what’s going on now.

This series in general started really good with the first episode and every subsequent episode has been super rocky. Like there’s some super yikes moments and some moments where it’s like, yeah I get you’re evil, but maybe you don’t want your show to go down that road?? Who the hell is writing this thing? But then are some really good scenes where you can see the show has such potential. Like, ugh, why couldn’t you have done better with this series. It’s rough, man. They had such potential and I’ve gotta say that this is not their strongest DC Universe original series. It’s just not. Which is a damn shame it’s not better because I absolutely loved the first episode.

So, in summary: I’m going to keep watching but I’m going to try to be more attentive and critical of what I’m consuming. I don’t really want to subscribe to cancel culture, because I feel like if we just cancel without forcing the people in charge to think about what they’ve done and make them accountable for it, we’re not really achieving anything. There are several other things I don’t like about this series (which I’ve talked about in previous reviews), but I can still see some potential in it. I’d like to see them take those good things, address the bad, and become a better show while being accountable for the bad things. Am I asking a lot? Yup. Will it probably happen? So freaking debatable. But let’s be real: it probably won’t.

I suppose I’m a stupidly optimistic person though.

But that’s just my opinion. You’re free to have your own. You’re free to tell me (politely, please. if you’re mean and rude about it, I won’t respond- I’ll probably just delete your comment or block you) why I should reconsider my opinion. I recognize my privilege and I’m willing to learn and grow. I think everyone should have the chance to learn and grow.

(PS: 10/10 because Frank the plant was in this episode; 0/10 for other bullshit)

#tw antisemitism #harley quinn the animated series #Harley Quinn #poison ivy #pamela isley #dc comics

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rennyji · 3 years

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July 17th Late Morning Tweets...

so I keep telling people to talk to me and about the horrendousness of all this, but this still continues in the manner that it does.

Here are some Biblical passages about my situation/the times - with personal examples from experience in parenthesis.

Based on the Old Testament Psalm 115: 5-8, Psalm 82: 2-4, and the New Testament Matthew 13: 14-: "So they show that what Isaiah said about them is true: ‘You people will listen and listen, but you will not understand. You will look and look, but you will not really see. Yes, the minds of these people are now closed. They have ears, but they don’t listen. They have eyes, but they refuse to see. If their minds were not closed, they might see with their eyes; they might hear with their ears; they might understand with their minds. Then they might turn back to me and be healed.’

(Regarding those who "get it", whatever be the context in life...) ... continuing from above... "But God has blessed you. You understand what you see with your eyes. And you understand what you hear with your ears. I can assure you, many prophets and godly people wanted to see what you now see. But they did not see it. And many prophets and godly people wanted to hear what you now hear. But they did not hear it.

(So I'm no one. I am showing you the Words of God have relevance in the present day and are not far off cosmic corny things to be heard once every Sunday. They have relevance in a practical way in our day to day lives. It's about living as a decent human being. IT IS A GUIDE. I am giving you detailed examples in my previous blog posts about how to use these stereotyped to be "don't do this/don't do that" type of writings in an everyday way. I am telling you that there is a Kingdom in the mind, where if you believe at that strength, you can truly move mountains and walk on water. Hence the latter part of the above Biblical passage: "many prophets and godly people wanted to see what you now see." Christ wants us to break the words of the Gospel down and apply insight to our lives. I am breaking it down for you. Showing you how. Talking about zip files and Back to the Future metaphors and comparisons. But for some reason, you would choose to follow the instructions of the orchestrators. Are they gods? The orchestrators and their following choose to be like Legion - "the many" demon infecting the masses.

How many times have I said what is already written: Psalm 82:6 “I said, ‘You are “gods”; you are all sons of the Most High.’ But people act like followers of the orchestrators. Whatever they offer is not worthy of God, is not worthy of what is just...maybe in some cosmic way, its not coincidence, that I, an October Birthday, a Libran, represent the Scales of Justice, in this extraordinarily unjust situation.

Christ goes on to say:

“So listen to the meaning of that story about the farmer: “What about the seed that fell by the path? That is like the people who hear the teaching about God’s kingdom but do not understand it. The Evil One comes and takes away what was planted in their hearts.

(In my situation, these are the people in bewilderment because the orchestrators exercise their dominance and filtering of my words. They may suffer from lack of context.)

“And what about the seed that fell on rocky ground? That is like the people who hear the teaching and quickly and gladly accept it. But they do not let the teaching go deep into their lives. They keep it only a short time.

(In my situation, these are the people who see my writings and sayings...or even the events of my life...as tantalizing nice sounding things. You have no root and don't digest the meaning of my words and actions...

"As soon as trouble or persecution comes because of the teaching they accepted, they give up."

“And what about the seed that fell among the thorny weeds? That is like the people who hear the teaching but let worries about this life and love for money stop it from growing. So it does not produce a crop in their lives.

(Some may get the idea of what I'm after i.e. "telling me what's going on and ending a phenomena lasting years. But they lack the courage or can't face the risk/random possible consequences of doing what is just, which is "loving your neighbor.")

“But what about the seed that fell on the good ground? That is like the people who hear the teaching and understand it. They grow and produce a good crop, sometimes 100 times more, sometimes 60 times more, and sometimes 30 times more.”

(These are the people who digest what I'm saying. They help me in what was asked, when mankind as a whole refused. You truly stand out like: gods. How much Blessing would they get from God with a capital 'G.' In a context outside of me, if you understand what I'm saying about the Kingdom of God in the mind, seek it out, you will get everything in life, perhaps slowly, but surely.

Then Jesus used another story to teach them. Jesus said, “God’s kingdom is like a man who planted good seed in his field. That night, while everyone was asleep, the man’s enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat and then left. Later, the wheat grew, and heads of grain grew on the plants. But at the same time the weeds also grew. Then the man’s servants came to him and said, ‘You planted good seed in your field. Where did the weeds come from?’ “The man answered, ‘An enemy planted weeds.’ “The servants asked, ‘Do you want us to go and pull up the weeds?’ “He answered, ‘No, because when you pull up the weeds, you might also pull up the wheat. Let the weeds and the wheat grow together until the harvest time. At the harvest time I will tell the workers this: First, gather the weeds and tie them together to be burned.

(This part about the 'tying up' words deals with what I said about us being the Body of Christ, or The Divine. The orchestrators in all their majestic intent and their "Sodom and Gomorrah-ignorant-everything in life is a party" type following, will be cast out like tumors who are cancerous to the Body of Christ.

You may think I'm an egotistical mess on the basis of that one line. But what else have I been saying? Mark 9:19 says, "“You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?..."

I mean I get it now. I understand my Lord's frustration. You can say the same thing over and over to some people and never get through.

"Then gather the wheat and bring it to my barn.’”

Matthew 10:14–16 14 And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town. 15 Truly, I say to you, it will be more bearable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that town.

Over these years, in tackling the unknown, in trying to communicate to people who will not talk to me, I've tried writing, speaking to certain people where things get allegedly relayed, talking to myself-thinking thats relayed... 11+ years have gone by. If I had the privilege of talking to God Himself, I would say, "mankind, America especially, cannot be helped." It's like their programmed to be ignorant.

Factually, and in my perspective, America is the nation that misled the world in teaming against one individual minding his own business.

Lay down the facts. Am I wrong or lying? Lay down what's done and not done. Am I wrong? Did not America get the world to engage against an indvidual on the basis of corny American stuff rooted in non Indian, but flawed American psychology?!

When I see what the Americans do to me, a non Caucasian, a brown man from India who probably can be confused as Middle Eastern, I cannot imagine what "wrong" America is seen to be doing to these people from religions, who bomb buildings? We all think these people are religious extremists, that they're crazy, that they just can't take in the good life: a girl friend, friends, a wife, a family, a successful job and home... In the face of what is done to me, I can't imagine what America did to these Muslims for them to behave this way. Who, for no reason, thinks they need to bomb a building in place of getting laid or something?

Despite my cries for help, my pleading with people: in thinking, speaking, writing, man obeyed the devils hand in the orchestrators. What is the price of screwing with the mind? Ive already said it in another blog post: from the Bible: 'To tie a stone around the neck and drown is better', according to the Bible.

But America, even Sodom and Gomorrah continued to the very last day, engaging recklessly and stupidly. And I guess, so too will you, with your show and project and ignorance.

For some people, you simply cannot get through. some people - its not in the cards for them to be saved. Regarding not being in the cards: Mark 4:12 states, so that, "'they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!'"

(My own parents are an example of the former: people you just cannot get through to. There is some kind of chasm, going beyond the orchestrators. between me and them. You will betray your son for foreign American orchestrators? They pray and pray and yell in prayer like pagans... Do I not try to talk to them through the heart and through the Bible they think their devout followers of? It is said, "where your treasure is, there also your heart will be." In action, to my parents, contrary to whatever you are deluding yourself to be, you have made the American orchestrators your gods. You violate the First of the Commandments. Christianity is a hard religion. But you have modern day Americans turning it into something flowery with all day smiles. Christ says "my father, mother, brothers, sisters, are those who believe in Me and do what I encourage." By this definition, my own Christian parents are not my family. I've found consolation in human beings who are Hindus or atheists. I've found warmth in people, on the other extreme, who society would view as the lowest.

This thing about being open minded, being above the Law, having compassion and a kind heart, the Golden Rule, learning from me and using insight: nothing new. It is mankind's problem, dating back more than 2000 years... but you all be you, and lets continue the farce.

If I am worthy in the slightest to be worthy of my God's observation, I pray that He sees what this nation does. While I am no one and would prefer to be associated with the worst or seen as the worst, I'm telling you, you have no idea what kind of evil is in your midst. People in the past would say "Repent." But I'm telling all of you, "wake up."

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jokessho · 7 years

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Fic: Fallen Angel

OTP week 2017 Pairing: Taichi and Yamato (Taiyama) Prompt: Fantasy AU Summary: A clumsy angel ends up in the wrong country and meets a bored office worker, who takes the angel in. Adjusting to life on Earth isn’t always easy. Taiyama, Taito, AU, multi-chapter (though updates will be sporadic at best, apologies in advance) Warnings: If you’re very religious (Christian), then what are you doing, reading my gay fanfics? this might offend you.

FFN

AO3

-o-o-o-o-o-

Taichi Yagami sighed deeply as he made his way out of the office building he spent at least eight hours a day in. He had a boring nine-to-overwork job, and, whenever he was free, his boring friends never wanted to do anything fun.

With a yawn, he joined the mass of people walking down Tokyo’s busy street. They were all eager to get home to their loved ones. Taichi, at 30, was boringly single.

Taichi turned right, onto a less crowded street. He inspected the faces of the other pedestrians, since now he could actually make out individuals. They all looked more-or-less alike. No one paid anyone else any heed; everyone just minding their own business. It was a bit boring.

“Hey, sorry?” Came a voice from Taichi’s left.

Taichi turned, coming face-to-face with a pale, blond man, about his height. Taichi blinked at him a few times. He seemed to glow in an ethereal way.

The stranger shifted from one foot to the other, nervous. “I just wanted to ask if it hurt when you fell.”

Taichi continued to stare.

The blond man looked even more uncomfortable, avoiding Taichi’s eyes. “From Heaven, I mean. Because it kind of hurt when I did, and I thought that maybe I did it wrong…” His blue eyes met Taichi’s brown from under blond strands.

“W-what?”

The blond’s face was expectant. He glanced around at the people pushing past them.

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? Because I think I bruised my ass falling.” To highlight his point, the blond rubbed lightly at his backside.

Taichi’s eyes were wide, mouth agape.

The stranger shifted to rub at his arm, eyes falling to the ground on Taichi’s right.

Taichi noted that he was wearing a white, long-sleeved button-up with tight-fitting, ripped blue jeans. The shirt was tucked in and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Smart casual—contrasting Taichi’s business suit—but nothing otherworldly.

“You did fall, right?” The blond prompted, eyes again on Taichi.

“Um, no?” Taichi hedged.

Blue eyes widened, flying around their surroundings.

“Really?” When he received a nod as an answer, he placed a hand on his hip, the other running through his hair. “Shit.”

Taichi looked around, noting that the stranger was attracting attention from passersby. Not that it was surprising: blonds were rare in Japan.

“Listen,” Taichi turned back to the other man. “Um, if you need a place to stay or something, you can maybe come over to my place.” What was he saying? Inviting a weirdo into his home. Shut up, shut up, shut up! “You know, at least until you’ve figured out what to do.”

The blond smiled, and Taichi had to—maybe—go back and correct his earlier thought: there might actually be something otherworldly about him. Definitely not his clothes, though.

“Could I? Really? Because I think I just made a huge mistake—or a few, actually—and I need to figure out how to fix them…” He threw Taichi an inquisitive look.

“Uh, it’s not a problem for me if you stay.”

The blond’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened. “Thanks.”

The twenty minute walk to Taichi’s apartment complex was spent in silence. Taichi was trying to piece all the events of the past half an hour together. Was the blond serious about having fallen from Heaven? Or was it just a pickup line? (It had worked). But he had sounded so genuinely concerned…

Taichi glanced at the blond. The other man was inspecting his surroundings, inquisitive eyes flitting from one billboard to another.

With a definitive nod to himself, Taichi decided he was a foreigner. Maybe he had been drunk and was confused. Another glance at the blond. Okay, so maybe his clothes didn’t give any indication that he had spent last night—and all of today—drinking. Taichi frowned.

“Um.” Came the stranger’s voice again, shy and quiet. “I’m Yamato, by the way. I don’t think I caught your name…”

“Oh, right, Taichi. Taichi Yagami.”

Same Taichi Yagami that had stupidly walked past his apartment complex. He mumbled something incomprehensible, avoiding the blue eyes, and doubled back.

Upon entering the apartment, Taichi had to instruct Yamato to take off his shoes. Yep, definitely a foreigner.

Taichi pointed out the bathroom door on their immediate left. Then they made their way straight through the short, narrow hallway, and into the main living space. The kitchen and living room were separated by an island countertop. The bedroom was walled off from the living room.

Taichi got them cold drinks and invited Yamato to take a seat on his two-seater couch.

“So, where are you from?” Taichi asked, sipping his drink. He had opted for a chair, not comfortable sharing the couch with the stranger.

Yamato blinked a few times, caressing his glass. “Uh, Heaven?”

The phone rang, interrupting Taichi’s reply. He excused himself, got up, placed his drink on the coffee table, and walked over to answer the mobile in his briefcase.

“Hi mum.”

“Hi Taichi.” A younger voice replied.

“Oh, Hikari. Why are you calling from mum’s phone?”

“My battery’s dead. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I got the job, so I’ll be moving to Africa next month.” Blunt and to-the-point; it was the best approach with dropping a bomb this big on Taichi, and Hikari knew.

“Oh.” Taichi stood still, trying to process the information. His little sister was moving abroad, to another country. A dangerous country.

“Taichi?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I’ll call you later, okay? After you’ve had time to process this.” She hung up.

Taichi stood still, holding his phone at his side, not knowing what to think.

Hikari had started working for a non-profit organisation right after graduation. She would be going to Africa—she hadn’t even said which country—to teach children to read. Admirable, but Africa could be dangerous, especially to someone as fragile and prone to illnesses as Hikari… Was Taichi exaggerating Hikari’s fragility? Maybe, but he was also worried about his sister contracting some deadly disease. Wasn’t Ebola a thing over there?

“Taichi?”

Said brunet turned around to face Yamato, whom had wandered into the hallway.

“Is everything alright?”

Taichi looked at the phone in his hand again, tossing it onto the small table on his left. He forced a smile onto his face.

“Yeah, it’s just a little family thing...”

“Oh.” Yamato looked genuinely interested. “It must be a nice feeling to care so much about someone. About family.”

Taichi was taken aback by the point of view. Yeah, it was nice to have family and other loved ones, but this situation wasn’t what he’d call ‘nice.’

Whilst Taichi was contemplating this, Yamato took a look around the small entrance hallway. It was bare except for the small table that housed a set of keys and the phone Taichi had just thrown on it. There were no pictures on the walls.

Shaking his head, Taichi smiled more genuinely at his guest. “Should we go back to the living room? There are a few more things I want to ask you…”

Yamato nodded, letting Taichi pass him and lead the way to the other room again. Both drinks were on the coffee table, sweating lightly.

“We’re not in France, are we?” Yamato asked, hesitantly, re-taking his seat on the couch.

Again, Taichi was baffled by what came out of the blond’s mouth.

“France? Why would we be in France?”

Yamato let out a sigh, casting his gaze outside the glass-windowed doors that led to a small balcony.

“That’s where I was supposed to go. I just received a message from the Travel Agency that I really screwed up, and they’ve fixed things on the French end, but they can’t help me here. Where are we?” The question was more of an afterthought, it seemed.

“Let me get this straight:” Taichi shifted on his chair, elbows leaning on his knees. “You’re an Angel from Heaven, you were supposed to go to France, but you ended up in Japan, landing on your ass?”

“Yes.”

Taichi dropped his head, covering his face with his hands.

“God help me.”

Yamato shifted uncomfortably, frowning. “Why would he do that?”

Taichi looked at Yamato from between his fingers. “There actually is a God?”

Yamato shrugged. “Yeah, of course there is. Why?”

“Why doesn’t he answer people’s prayers, then?”

The blond stared, blinking for a few seconds, before he let out a burst of laughter. “Oh, wow. Is that what Humans think? That God is supposed to answer your prayers?”

“Um, yes?”

“Really?” Yamato actually looked genuinely interested now. “What kinds of prayers?”

Taichi shifted in his seat, not wanting to look at the blond. “Well, I guess help with everyday things and magical healing of the severely sick. Sending you Angels down to Earth to protect us from bad things. Or something. I’m not too sure, actually, since we don’t really believe in God in Japan. But that’s what I know of the western belief system.”

A fine blond eyebrow rose. “You think we protect you?” Then his eyes widened. “You’re not expecting me to protect you, are you? Because—to be honest—I have no idea what I should be protecting you from, or how. I’ve never been to Earth before.”

As the talk progressed, Taichi was taking more interest in his guest, shifting closer to the edge of his seat. “What is your job or mission, then? Why are you here?”

“Well, from what we’ve learned at university, we have very similar societies. Ours is just in a different dimension.” He shrugged, reaching for his previously-untouched drink. He took a sip before continuing. “I’m on Earth because I wanted to come.”

Waving his hand frantically, Taichi moved to sit on the couch, next to Yamato. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. What do you mean ‘society’ and ‘different dimension?’”

Yamato scooted a bit closer to his armrest, away from Taichi. “You never took courses on Angel Cultural Studies? Or whatever the equivalent here is.”

“Um…”

“You didn’t? Oh, well, I know plenty of Angels that also didn’t want to take any Human Cultural courses; it’s fine and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip lightly. “But haven’t any of your friends corrected your beliefs about us?”

“Uh…” Taichi grabbed his drink, chugging half of it down. He took his time setting the glass back on the table, eyes moving to his knees. “We don’t have anything like that at school or university…” He risked a glance from under his fringe. “Actually, a lot people in the world don’t even believe in Angels…”

Yamato’s face fell and Taichi felt his gut wrench.

“Oh.”

Taichi shifted, feeling sweat starting to trickle down his neck. He should really change out of his suit. For now, he just loosened his tie.

“I mean, I knew, but…” Yamato continued, rubbing at his arm again. “I guess it’s just kind of a shock, considering how much of my life I’ve dedicated to learning about Humans and how much I wanted to come here. Wanted to be part of your society.”

Taichi’s eyes snapped to Yamato, though the blond was looking off to the side, missing it.

“You keep saying that you wanted to come here.” Yamato’s eyes finally met his. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Oh, well, I majored in Human Culture and just graduated. We have a choice of becoming teachers by going into further study, or coming to Earth to mingle with you lot and starting lives here.”

“But why? Isn’t Heaven like paradise? Why would you want to come here?”

Yamato cleared his throat—though it sounded more like he was covering up a chuckle. “I wanted to get a fresh start. Away from my family and m—anyway,” He cleared his throat again, for real this time. “I wanted to come here and maybe make some friends and find a job and settle down. Mingle with Humans. Have a life here.”

Yamato sounded so forlorn that Taichi smiled gently and reached out a hand to grab Yamato’s.

“That can all be done. In fact, you’ve already made a friend, right?”

Blue eyes stared, hopeful. “Really? We can be friends?”

“Yeah.” Taichi pulled his hand away, nodding enthusiastically. “I think we’re well on our way to becoming great friends!”

Yamato smiled, but it was fleeting. “I don’t know how to go about getting a job here, though. I had paperwork for France, but since I messed up…”

“Well find you work!” Taichi cheered, then he frowned. “What’s the deal with this France thing?’”

Yamato averted his eyes. “Oh, I was supposed to be sent to France to settle down. The Travel Agency takes care of paperwork and such, so that we can start new lives, pretending we’ve been on Earth all our lives. They provide all the housing and CVs and another Angel as a contact person.”

“Do you have another Angel to contact here?”

Yamato shrugged. “I don’t know; we’re not really supposed to expose our identity. The Angel I was supposed to be contacting looked like you, so I thought it was you. But since we’re not in France…”

Sensing that Yamato didn’t want to discuss the matter further, Taichi got up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’m starving. What would you like for dinner? Mind you, I’m not a good cook, so I usually just eat simple or ready meals.” He looked towards his fridge, cringing. “Though I don’t think I have that much food… Maybe we should just have a snack and then go shopping. What do you say?” Taichi asked, smiling down at the blond.

Yamato returned the smile. “Shopping sounds fun. And don’t worry about cooking; I’m a pretty decent cook, so I can take care of that, whilst I’m imposing on you like this. And I can also clean.”

“You can cook?” Taichi looked intrigued, then waved a hand nonchalantly at Yamato. “And it’s not imposing, since I invited you.” Taichi walked to the fridge, opening the door. “Let’s see what we can find.”

“Oh, I don’t need anything right now. Please just eat and I’ll wait.”

Taichi threw a frown over his shoulder. “Are you sure? Because it’s really no problem.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, then.”

-o-

Half an hour later, the pair was walking through the doors of a local supermarket. Taichi grabbed a trolley, saying that they should put Yamato’s cooking skill to good use and buy lots of fresh ingredients.

“Hey, Yamato.” Taichi realised that it was the first time he’d used the Angel’s name. He liked it. “If you were supposed to go to France, how is it that you can speak and read Japanese? Put that down, it doesn’t taste good.”

“Oh,” Yamato answered, putting down the horseradish he had been inspecting. “Angels speak a universal language. We start losing the ability to speak other languages after a few weeks.”

“I see. Meat is this way.” Taichi pushed off to the right.

Yamato spent most of the shopping trip exploring the different foods on offer, commenting about how they differed from those in Heaven.

“Everything here looks just like in the textbooks!”

Taichi chuckled at the blond’s childishness, though he was careful of what he let Yamato say. Some of the other patrons were giving them weird looks.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your first visit to Japan.” Taichi said, unnecessarily loudly.

Yamato gave him a confused look, but the other patrons smiled at the pair. One woman even stopped to compliment Yamato on his Japanese fluency.

“Sorry.” Taichi muttered, sticking himself close to Yamato’s side as they went through packets of meat. “But we don’t have a lot of Angels visiting…”

“Oh, right!” Yamato put a hand to his forehead. “First I miss France, landing on my ass, talk to the wrong guy, revealing I’m an Angel, and now this. I’m turning into such a klutz.”

Taichi laughed, slapping a hand onto Yamato’s shoulder. “That makes for a nice change; usually it’s me that’s the klutz.” He placed a few packets of meat into the trolley, pushing towards the checkout. Yamato tried to contain his excitement at seeing the checkout process he had learned about in textbooks played out in front of him. Right before his eyes.

The pair shared the groceries between themselves and started making their way home.

“So, can I ask more about God?”

“Sure.” Yamato shrugged.

“Who exactly is he, then, if he doesn’t listen to Humans’ prayers?”

“He’s like our Prime Minister, or President, or King, or Queen, or whatever main country person you have here.”

Taichi stopped, staring with his mouth agape. He really needed to stop standing on the streets, looking like an idiot.

“But he’s been the same person since the beginning of time, right? Wait, how old are you? In human years.”

Yamato gave Taichi an amused look, jerking his head to get Taichi moving again. “No, we elect a new God every six years. The same one can serve only three terms in a row. I’m 29 in Angel and Human years. Our life spans are about the same as Humans’ if we choose to join you on Earth. If we stay in Heaven, then we can live to be about twice what Humans can.”

Taichi entered the code to his apartment complex and held the door for Yamato to pass. Since they had groceries weighing in their hands, they boarded the lift, taking it up to the fourth floor.

“But Yamato…” Taichi led the way to the kitchen, starting to unpack his bags, Yamato following suit. “Why would you want to come to Earth if your lifespan will shorten? And what about your wings? You lost them, right?”

“Wings?” Yamato stopped trying to figure out where to put the canned goods. “What wings?”

“You mean Angels don’t have wings?!” Taichi slammed his hands on the table, staring wide-eyed at Yamato. He should really be getting used to his beliefs about Angels being wrong by now.

The blond edged away slightly, trying to contain his chuckles. “No, we don’t have wings.” Then he leaned forward, tilting slightly to the left, asking: “Is this really what Humans think of us?”

“Wait.” Taichi rolled his eyes, dashing to his room. He returned a minute later. “I just turned on my computer. I’ll show you pictures of how we imagine Angels.”

They finished putting all the items away, Taichi showing Yamato where everything was in his—now their—kitchen. Then they made their way to Taichi’s room—which, Taichi realised, he had to start calling their room.

“Uh, you’re okay sharing a bed, right? I don’t exactly have a spare and the couch is too small…”

Yamato cast a quick glance at the large double bed. Then his eyes returned to Taichi, whom had taken a seat at the computer.

“It’s fine. Your bed is big enough for two. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Nah,” Taichi waved the apology aside. “It’s not a problem at all. I actually really enjoy learning more about Angels and you.” He grinned at Yamato, who returned the grin.

“So these pictures?”

“Right.” Taichi signed in and double-clicked the browser open. “Here.”

On screen was a picture of a stereotypical Angel: beautiful young maiden in a white robe, with large, white wings.

Yamato moved closer to the screen, eyeing the picture for a second. Then he burst out laughing.

“Oh, man.” He wiped away a stray tear. “Sorry to disappoint you.” He looked at the picture again, giggling. “I’m really sorry if that’s what you were expecting.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t expecting an Angel at all. So it wasn’t really a disappointment.” Taichi, too took another look at the picture, then at Yamato. “Besides, I think I prefer you. And, like, the fact that Angels and Heaven are nothing like what I’ve thought. It’s more interesting this way.”

Yamato pulled away, a smile on his face. “I’m glad. Shall I get started on dinner?”

“Oh, yeah, please!”

Nodding, Yamato made his way out of the room, leaving Taichi to shut his computer down. The blond made his way to the kitchen, but stopped, biting his lower lip.

“What do you want for dinner?” Yamato asked, turning to Taichi, who had just entered the kitchen.

“Um,” Taichi walked over to the fridge, inspecting the meats they had bought. “We could have pork tonight. Haven’t had that in a while.” He pulled said packet of meat out, frowning as he walked to the chopping board, placing the meat down. “You know how to cook Human food, right?”

Yamato chuckled, looking around in search of something. “Yeah, we have vegetables and meat and rice in Heaven. Our vegetables and animals just look slightly different and are called different things. Do you have an apron I could use?”

“Apron? No, I don’t use one.”

“Oh.” Yamato looked down at his white shirt, frowning, but shrugged, pulling out the chopping board and knife.

“I just realised:” Taichi noted, watching Yamato pull out the accompanying vegetables. “You don’t have a change of clothes.”

Vegetables in hand, Yamato walked back to the kitchen counter, where he had left his chopping board. Taichi moved to stand further back, by the island countertop. Yamato’s sleeves were already rolled up, and since there was no apron to don, he got started.

“I can lend you some, but we should go buy you new ones tomorrow. I won’t have to go to work, so I can take you out shopping.”

Yamato’s hands stumbled with the carrots he was julienning. “That’s alright; I don’t want to impose so much. I would have had clothes, but they went to France.” He frowned at the cupboard in front of his face. “Makes me wonder what they did with the house and my things… Anyway, I should really start looking for work.”

“Nah,” Taichi waved a hand, brushing off Yamato’s worries. “You can start looking for work when I go back to my job on Monday. For now, I’ll look after you and buy you anything you need.”

Yamato blushed, moving onto the peppers. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll pay you b—”

“There’s really no need.” Taichi stepped up behind Yamato, looking over the blond’s shoulder. “You promised to cook and clean, so that’s enough.” He patted Yamato on the shoulder before moving to sit on the other side of the island on a stool.

The redness didn’t fade from Yamato’s face until dinner was over and he started on washing the dishes.

#digiotpweek #fic #taiyama #taito #fantasy au (kind of)#multi-chapter #chapter 1 #fallen angel

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apprenticebard · 7 years

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I'm not a particularly big fan of many of our other national landmarks, but I think the SOL is by far the most egregious example. I'm disinclined to say that depicting pagan deities is inherently wrong; the trouble comes from granting them importance. So when you depict a pagan deity, you need to be careful not to vault over the line from "retelling ancient stories" to "identifying with a false god and making it synonymous with your nation". The SOL was actually created to do the latter.

Hm. So the difficulty comes when we grant pagan deities symbolic importance, even if we don’t “worship” them. I don’t think I agree that that’s necessarily a sin, but it strikes me as the sort of thing that reasonable people can disagree about, and I grant that using pagan deities as national symbols is the sort of thing that could certainly lead to trouble.

I suppose I have to admit that if I didn’t have any sentimental attachment to the statue (and the poem), building a giant statue of a Roman goddess and making it a symbol of the country would seem like a bad idea.

God is the only one who creates things ex nihilo, so all sin is only a corrupted form of something God created to be good. Much sin or perhaps all of it can be defined as putting something before God. It is good to be endlessly forgiving of your spouse, but it’s bad to “stand with your spouse right or wrong”, because God is the right thing, and doing the right thing should come before your spouse, or before anything else; it’s the same way with patriotism.

There is both figurative and literal idolatry. Many Christians believe that idolatry is what I’ve described, putting something else before God, but that’s only figurative idolatry. Literal idolatry is something we’ve forgotten, blocked out of our minds, even though it’s obvious - the creation and worship of an inanimate deity intended to represent what we put before God. We’re all figurative idolators, ie, sinners, but America does both in parallel; this is certainly and harshly condemned.

Hm. We’ve established that neither of us has an “America, right or wrong” attitude, so we haven’t actually put our country before our moral system (which I would hope, in our case, is founded on our understanding of the will of God). I suppose my specific objections here are 1) I think you’re exaggerating the importance that people place on the SOL, and 2) I don’t see how people “worship” it, even as a lesser deity than God. As I said, I like the Statue of Liberty (….I will admit that I liked her more before I realized she was meant to be a Roman goddess, but I still love that poem). I probably like her more than the average American, but I’d say that the way I interact with God and the way I think of the Statue of Liberty are very clearly different. I don’t think of the statue as an entity that can do anything for me, I don’t ask it for help, I don’t tell it how great it is, I don’t often tell other people how great it is, and I’m not trying to please it or do what it wants. I don’t think of the statue as having a will. It doesn’t even represent something that has a will, except insofar as it represents America. I guess America has about 300 million wills.

The point is, I care more about my mom and my friends and my job and the novel I’m writing than I do about the SOL. I don’t see why caring about the SOL should be idolatry if those other things aren’t, even if the statue is meant to depict a deity.

I think that in the foundational documents of our country, you can find a truly good ideal of liberty, something that’s fundamentally true and consequently is Godly wisdom. But the SOL is a physical manifestation of our twisting that ideal and putting it before God; as long as it stands, we can know that we are fundamentally on the wrong path. One could see it as a message from God through sin that we have made a terrible mistake.

I will admit that I don’t know enough about what went into the creation of the SOL in order to agree with or dispute the idea that it’s celebrating something different than the right referenced in the Declaration of Independence.

I only partly intended the abortion connection as evidence that the SOL is an idol; rather, my primary intent was to demonstrate that if you accept a Biblically-informed view of the nature and consequences of idols, the otherwise-inexplicable sudden-onset insanity of the sexual revolution, legal abortion, and abortion culture all suddenly make sense: that’s just what idols do; that’s a common historical symptom of idolatry, that’s why idols are bad, all kinds of sin are done in their name.

I don’t think the sexual revolution or abortion came out of nowhere, and I think it would be very weird if the consequences of the idol didn’t occur until almost a hundred years after its design. Everyone involved in the SOL’s creation was already dead by 1970! Why should the consequences hit us that decade?

As I said, I don’t think all of the sin the US has committed is a result of the SOL; that’s obviously, trivially false. I mostly think that it’s a dark beacon of our sin, that it’s such a stupidly blatant sin that of course we’d be cursed by God to commit worse sins than the ones whose cessation we were celebrating, and that in the unlikely event that we get wise to it and tear it down, our national lifespan would increase as a natural result.

I don’t know that God curses people to commit sins. (I know the verses in exodus where God “hardened Pharaoh’s heart”, but that’s the only relevant example I can think of.)

I’m glad you acknowledge that plenty of awful things happened before the Statue of Liberty was erected.

And most of all, when I realized how the SOL is the exact sort of thing the Bible most harshly condemns, that induced the realization that a depressingly low number of people historically have been as spiritually observant as they’d said. If we’ve really gotten so much less religious in the past century and a half, how on Earth did an ostensibly very Christian nation allow a new pagan idol to become one of its chief symbols?

Oh yeah, I definitely agree with this assertion. We were never as Christian as the right-wing Christian patriots want to believe we were. If anything, I think the way that I was taught American history as a child comes closer to idolatry than anything I was taught about the Statue of Liberty. We were told we were a chosen people, a new Israel, the greatest country in the world, and that we’d taken the lands of the Native Americans and broken all our promises to them because God had “blessed us with expansion”. If that’s not the sin of pride, what is?

A lot of our Christian heritage was a skin-deep cultural thing, I think. That’s not to say that the Puritans in Massachusetts or the Quakers in Pennsylvania or the Catholics in Maryland weren’t sincere in their belief–certainly it takes sincere belief to risk your life for the sake of being allowed to worship freely. It’s just that in any culture where a certain religion is expected, people will go through the motions for the sake of their neighbors, not for God. Just as giving the Church earthly power leads to people claiming faith to gain power, giving the Church social power leads to people claiming faith to avoid ostracism. These aren’t mechanisms that lead people to genuine faith very effectively.

I agree with you on the cosmic insignificance of America; in fact, though I desperately want to save it, I don’t believe it’s going to happen, and I currently hope to move out sometime in my lifetime - I just worry I’ll put it off too long.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Nobody down here does, I don’t think. But that’s OK; I know the important things, and there’s plenty of work left to be done down here, for as long as God gives us to do it. I’m not looking for opportunities to leave–I think I can help more people by working here than I could if I worked anywhere else.

I hope things go well for you.

I also agree with you about the corruptibility of combined spiritual and political power - though that’s the primary reason I’m not a Catholic! (I’m not one of the types who thinks Catholics aren’t saved or that they’re the final boss, though.)

I like to think we’ve learned a bit since the middle ages. The modern Church doesn’t hold anything close to the level of political power it once did, and I think that’s for the best.

In any case, I’m glad to hear you count us as part of the faithful. It’s a bit of a relief; I’ve spent too much time with protestants whose first association with idolatry is “you know, those Catholics make wood carvings of Mary sometimes.”

I’m glad that you’re intrigued by my position; it’s been very pleasant interacting with you, and I hope to do so more in the future, though I’ll be very busy for the next few days. I’m also a writer; I wish you good luck in those endeavors. :) Praise God. +

I’m glad you’ve found it pleasant! I love interacting with people who believe things I’ve never heard of, especially if they have reasons to back them up. I used to get a lot of that from the Catholic forums I’d visit (for a group with more official teachings than perhaps any of the Protestant sects, faithful Catholics hold a very wide range of opinions when it comes to specific questions that fall outside those official teachings), but I haven’t had the energy to read those threads lately. So this has been nice, and I want to thank you for sharing your perspective with me.

Best of luck to you, too.

#bard says things #asks #anon #catholic stuff

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genericusernamesdotexe-blog · 6 years

Text

Life.exe

For most of my life I was obsessed with the “class clown” figure on tv. I thought making other people laugh was great and just generally would be good for everyone. I assumed the kinda stuff I saw people do (with the laugh tracks and shit) would make other laugh as well. Completely wrong. I’d dance on chairs, make cringy jokes, and stupid remarks that annoyed everyone. Because of this I got a shit ton of embarrassing moments that made me want to not talk to people. Eventually I managed to settle on reading books almost exclusively instead of social contact. Honestly if it weren’t for the fact that people have forcefully befriended me I would be that same way. I still think it would be better than this because with other people I get obsessed over the most stupidly small things that no one would care about and feel like shit because of it. With books I can ignore reality and barely feel like I exist, which really isn’t a bad thing in a sense. (I don’t mean that in an edgy way, I think/hope?) I think it all got worse when I started getting bullied. Around 1st-3rd grade-ish area I had two homeroom teachers (the kind where you stayed with them the entire day or so) that would bully me. I’d try to be nice to them and they’d act like an asshole to me. I messed up colors because I’m colorblind (something I didn’t figure out until several years later) and they’d make fun of me. One of my teachers that was an asshole to me after I realized I was colorblind told me “Really because my husband is colorblind and he doesn’t get those mixed up” which caused me to doubt myself even more. She would punish me for reading or having my head too close to my desk when some kids would be sleeping or talking in the class. Because of the class clown shit that I used to do, many times I feel like I’m just lying to myself about stuff and doing it for attention even though I refuse to tell anyone because I don’t want anyone to know. My sister would treat my brother and I like slaves growing up and would take pleasure in fucking with us, like she’d pay us to do something like walking a few miles (when we were around 8-ish) with her and then refuse to pay up and also forced us to talk more because we couldn’t keep up with her fast pace. Making fun of us during the time. My mother has also done some questionable, but not outright tormenting, shit and I grew up without a father. Due to all of this I have a massive distrust of other people and don’t like meeting new people, feeling uncomfortable when one new person joined the group of 4 people I talked to on the daily. Can’t even talk to people at the cash register without stammering because my brain is so stupid. Can’t play sports in gym because I’m so worried of fucking up that I fuck up. So I just walk around the track, hoping to become fit enough to maybe possibly maybe try to get myself to join the track team maybe. Outside my home only walking and reading grant me any real joy. You know, I was raised in the time of boys not being allowed to cry and it’s kind of ingrained into me. Didn’t help that when I did cry as a kid that I was incredibly embarrassed by it and didn’t even know why I was crying. I would literally cry for seemingly no reason and feel like shit about it. Now the only times I can get myself to cry are when I’m being yelled at by authority figures like the principal and I don’t even know why the happens and I can’t control it. Growing up a Christian I always felt like shit whenever I did anything bad, which didn’t help on top of all the other stuff I felt like shit about. I thought about and tried once to kill myself around the age of 10-11ish. Only reason why I’m not dead is because I was too weak to do it and I felt guilty over thinking about how others would feel because I died. I have successfully managed to fuck all family relations I have aside from my cousins and aunt, who are just about the only things I can say help me completely lose track of time and forget everything. Around them I can honestly say I feel happy most of the time. Because of my bullying and distrust of others I’d like to think that is how I became very analytical and focused on being rational. Which really fucked me up when I started feeling like shit because I thought I had been able to shut everything out. Honestly I still feel kinda guilty over the idea of killing myself, but because of stuff that’s happened over the last few years, the only thing that’s stopping my is my inability to get myself to do it, the fact that there’s still a few things I want to do, and that one day I want to have kids and raise them properly unlike whatever the mess my childhood was/is. I’ve been learning a lot of psychology and the more I learn the more I regret. It’s helped me realize when I was projecting or doing certain things without realizing it, but over all it’s mainly just made me second guess and doubt myself even more. Not that Psychology is to blame, I’m just a dumb ass. I will probably add more to the story of my stupid life if I feel need to make another post like this. I needed somewhere to, honestly and clearly, state the dumb shit in my brain and get this out there. This is so jumbled up because it came as I remembered it. Hopefully this actually does help like “advertised” and I gain something?

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