#(he also respected the decision due to the fact that my church quite literally had me expelled from school after i was outed as gay)

[effervescent-fool]

my entire childhood we were only allowed to listen to hymns. the first time i listened to actual real music was at the fresh age of 15.

yeah similar thing here. i was much younger when i started listening to other things though, as my dad is a former metalhead

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! This isn’t an ask, but more of a rambling that I deemed too long for the comments, that stems from your post claiming Book of Circus as your favourite Black Butler episodes. and to that I say - YES. Book of Murder is a masterpiece. It houses one of my favourite scenes - the one where Sebastian says: "This wasn't a scenario decided by God or fate, but one decided on by my master, with timing decided by my master. I was killed by the criminal expected by my master, by the Hione who came to torment my master", which really captures the essence of whole 'Ciel vs God' dynamic that's woven into the duration of the show.

Throughout the plot, there are three major instances in which an offering is made to Ciel - offerings of redemption. The first is from Angela - a chance to purify himself and have an afterlife - which he so vehemently rejects in the knowledge that he quite literally *is* his darkness, and therefore refuses to rid himself of it.

The second is comes from Abberline in his death, where in his final words he tells Ciel he has a chance to take back his future. And Ciel has to watch him die with the knowledge that he has already made up his mind about his fate. I don't think he's so affected because he regrets selling his soul. I don't think he suddenly wants to live, or no longer wishes for revenge. But I believe the reason he is so affected by Abberline's death is because he holds a sentimentality for him that is not dissimilar to the one he feels for Elizabeth. Ciel is cruel, I don't think he regrets the steps he has taken to get to this point, nor the ones he knows he must take in the future. But though he is cruel, I believe he has a sort of fond curiosity for the untainted goodness that characterises those like Abberline and Elizabeth. Like you said before, he feels condescension towards the man perhaps due to the naivety his blind heroism implies, but I think his attachments to him come from an underlying curiosity to see if such goodness can exist in such a corrupted world - a silent hope to be proven wrong in his cynicism. When Abberline dies, that very hope he didn't even know he had gets shattered. It brings about a sort of forced perspective that makes Ciel question himself in ways we haven't seen before.

Abberline's death had been avoidable and it was certainly in vain. Abberline had died for someone who had already made up his mind - someone who had rejected God once before and would do it time and time again as proven in the anime. Ciel is such an interesting character because, although he is dark, he still values the light and makes some sort of effort to preserve it in spite of the contempt he feels for them. It is the thought of dying in vain that seems to bother him so greatly, not death itself. No, Abberline dying isn't enough for him to want to live again, or to even think about throwing away his revenge - that was never in question. But it is enough to extinguish the lingering flicker of hope he had for humanity (despite being so distanced from term himself).

This, combined with the disappointment he feels at Sebastian's actions, causes the existential haze of uncertainty that leads to the third and final offering. And the most surprising thing is that this offering comes from Sebastian himself. He senses the doubt in Ciel and, like every thought the boy experiences, fails to understand it. He mistakes it for him second-guessing his revenge and decides to discontinue their contract. But he isn't angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. What this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet  goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death.  There is almost a strong disappointment in him, but is not resentful of it - Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be. His offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

The rejections of God, the evasion of the Hope Diamond's curse (where he even wore two rings as if to taunt the fates), the references in Book of Murder - they all depict this metaphorical sort of battle between Ciel and God. And the ending of Kuroshitsuji II is the depicts how he triumphs over fate, claiming his rightful place as an immortalised creature of Hell.

I know I've gone on a bit of a tangent here in your inbox, but that one quote from Book of Murder is so symbolic to me in the way it sets up the comparison between Ciel and God (in which 'God' represents power over fate).

Before I sign off, though, I just want to make light of the existence of the show's final offering, occurring in the last few minutes of the series. This last offering has nothing too do with God, nothing to do with any complex battle between the Phantomhive and fate, but is much simpler than that. In fact, the final offering of the show comes from Ciel, and he gives it to Sebastian - it's almost poetic, is it not?

"Are you sure you don't want to pull it any tighter?"

In this single, unassuming line, Ciel is asking Sebastian if he wants to kill him, and release himself from the eternal contract they've found themselves in. Such a noble and dignified soul as Ciel would always be sure to make through on his word and, despite the loophole that now extends their contract, he would still be willing to let Sebastian kill him should he wish to do so. The man may no longer be able to take his soul, but the boy can still give the order to kill him and free himself. Ciel's respect for Sebastian is complex and contradictory at times, but what never changes is his willingness to die by his hands and see through to his side of the contract.

“Is it over? The one who plunged me into bottomless darkness… I don’t even know why she did it.”

In the episode where Angela is crushed by the Church, Ciel offers his soul to Sebastian. Even when unsatisfied with the result, his unwavering nobility led him to make good on their deal and fulfil his end of the contract. The earl faced the demon, his expression calm, and with a steady voice said “A promise is a promise. Take it.”

This unwavering dignity and nobility he holds in himself I believe is the reason for this offering and Sebastian's turn to reject it is almost a 'love confession' (as you have brought me to see it) in itself.

As a final sort of note - I just wanted to let you know that, since reading your reply to my comment on TGSTLTH (from a while ago), I brought myself to rewatch Kuroshitsuji II with your interpretation in mind and ended up really enjoying it. You've singlehandedly made me do a complete 180 on a season I previously hated - looks like I had just watched it from the wrong perspective. So, for that, I thank you

Hey! Sorry for getting to your ask just now. I absolutely loved it :D And yes, Book of Murder is a masterpiece - I still remember watching it for the first time. It was late at night, I had to go to bed, everyone was sleeping, but I kept watching because stopping just wasn't an option, I had to know what happened next.

Ciel vs God is such an interesting topic. In some ways, Ciel and Sebastian exist in their own universe where there is no place for anyone else. There is a God aka Ciel and a demon aka Sebastian. And they are both allies and adversaries at the same time - they are tormenting each other and uniting to torment others.

I agree absolutely that Ciel holds a fondness for certain people, with Lizzy and Abberline being a good example. He has a degree of contempt and irritation for them, but they do mean something to him. Ciel's curiosity is a big and detached thing, and this places him on Sebastian's level in such an interesting way because sometimes it's almost like Ciel isn't human himself - humanity intrigues him as if he doesn't belong to it. His fascination with the light just underlines his affinity with the darkness.

I have many thoughts about Ciel's behavior during the days following Abberline's death, and you certainly introduced many excellent points! My general opinion on Ciel's motives is... complicated. I agree that he never felt like really giving up his revenge and trying to live a 'happy' life - he knew it's not for him at that stage already. However, I feel like Abberline's parting words affected him a lot, even if briefly. When Abberline tells him that he can start everything from the beginning, Ciel sounds absolutely heartbroken when he confesses, "I don't have a future." The way he acts later, telling Sebastian to stop and not kill the angel, hesitating, reinforces this idea to me. I think you described it best - Ciel is having an existential crisis. It's not like he suddenly regrets his decisions, but he's temporary unanchored and unsure what he wants and what he should do. Having a dream where Abberline urges him to give up his hatred also seems to affect Ciel, but it's so telling that he wakes up and immediately says, "Sebastian." It's a fascinating arc and I can't wait to explore it.

I love your words about three offerings - so true. And I'm so happy you liked S2 when watching it from a new perspective! I used to be so confused as to why people hated it: it's not perfect, but I thought it was amazing in many ways, especially its bittersweet ending.

[mashkaromanova]

Eugene Botkin, 1916. Below is his last ever letter, written not long before he was murdered along with the Russian Imperial Family and three other servants on the 17th July 1918. Dr Botkin started this letter on 9th July 1918 but continued writing it on 17th July, when he heard the knock on his door, which was why letter ended abruptly. It was never finished or mailed. The letter was meant for his brother Alexander

“My dear, good friend Sasha, I am making the last attempt to write a real letter, - at least from here, - although this caveat is completely redundant; I do not think that it is in the cards for me to ever write from anywhere else again, - my voluntary imprisonment here is limited to my existence on this earth. In actuality, I have died – dead to my children, my friends, my work… I have died, but have not been buried yet, or rather was buried alive, - whichever you prefer: the consequences are almost identical, i.e. both one and the other have their negative and positive sides.

If I were literally dead, that is to say, anatomically dead, then according to my faith I would know what my children are doing, would be closer to them and undoubtedly more useful than now. I rest with the dead only civilly, my children may still have hope that we will see each other sometime in this life, while I, other than thinking that I can still be useful to them somehow, do not personally indulge myself with this hope, do not humour myself with illusions, but look directly into the face of unadorned reality.

Although for now, I am as healthy and fat as always, to a point where I feel disgusted every time I look in the mirror. I only console myself with the thought that if it would be easier for me to be anatomically dead, then this means that my children are better off, because when I am separated from them, it always seems to me that the worse off I am, the better off they are. And why do I feel that I would be better off dead, - I will explain this to you with small episodes, which illustrate my emotional being.

The other day, i.e. three days ago, when I was peacefully reading Saltykov-Schedrin, which I often read with pleasure, I suddenly saw the face of my son Yura in diminutive size, as if from far away, but [it was] dead, in a horizontal position, with closed eyes… The last letter from him was on 22 March o[ld] s[tyle], and since that time postal connection from the Caucasus, which even earlier faced great difficulties, probably stopped completely, as neither here nor in Tobolsk had we received anything else from Yura.

Do not think that I am hallucinating, I have had these types of visions before, but you can easily imagine, how it was for me to experience this particular thing in the current situation, which in general is quite comfortable, but to have no chance not only to go to Yura, but not even to be able to find out anything about him. Then, only yesterday, during the same reading, I suddenly heard some word, which to me sounded like ‘Papulya’, which was uttered in Tanyusha’s [his daughter Tatiana] voice, and I almost broke down in sobs.

Again, this was not a hallucination, because this word was uttered, the voice was similar, and not even for a second did I think that this was my daughter speaking, who was supposed to be in Tobolsk: her last postcard was from 23 May – 5 June, and of course these tears would have been purely egotistical, for myself, that I cannot hear and, most likely will never again hear that dear little voice and feel that affection that is so important to me, with which my little children spoiled me so. Again, the horror and sorrow which gripped me during the vision I described were purely egotistical too, since if my son had truly died, then he is happy, but if he is alive, then it is unknown what kind of trials he is going through or is fated to live through. So you see, my dear, that my spirit is cheerful, despite the torment I live through, which I bear, just described to you, and cheerful to a point where I am prepared to do this for many more years…

I am encouraged by the conviction that ‘one who bears all until the end is saved’, and the awareness that I remain loyal to the principles of the 1889 graduates. Before we graduated, while still students, but already close friends who preached and developed the same principals with which we started life, for the most part we did not view them from a religious point of view, I do not even know if too many of us were religious. But each codex of principals is a religion already, and for some it is most likely a conscious thing, while for others subconscious, - as it basically was for me, as this was the time of, not exactly uniform atheism, but of complete indifferentism, in the full sense of the word, - it came so close to Christianity that our full attitude toward it, or at least of many of us, was a completely natural transition. In general, if ‘faith is dead without work’, then ‘work’ cannot exist without faith, and if faith joins any of our work, then this is just due to special favour from God.

I turned out to be such a lucky one, through the path of heavy trials – the loss of my firstborn, the year-and-a-half-old little son Seryozha. Since that time, my codex has been widened and solidified significantly, and I took care that each task was not only about the ‘Academic’, but about the ‘Divine’. This justifies my last decision as well, when without any hesitation I left my children completely orphaned, in order to do my physician’s duty to the end, like Abraham did not hesitate to sacrifice his only son to God on His demand.

I strongly believe that the same way God saved Isaac, He will save my children too and be a father to them. But since I do not know how He will save them, and can only find out about it in the next world, my egotistic torment which I described to you, due to my human weakness, does not lose its torturous severity. But Job did bear more, and my late Misha always reminded me about him, when he was afraid that I, bereft of my dear little children, would not be able to bear it.

No, apparently I can bear it all, whatever God wills to burden me with. In your letter, for which I ardently thank you once more (the first time I tried to convey this in a few lines on a detachable coupon, hopefully you got it in time for the holiday, and also my physiognomy – for the other?), you were interested in my activities in Tobolsk, with a trust precious to me. And so? Putting hand on heart, I can confess to you that there, I tried in every way to take care of ‘the Divine, as the Lord wills’ and, consequently, ‘not to shame the graduates of year 1889′. And God blessed my efforts, and I will have until the end of my days this bright memory of my swan song.

I worked with my last strength, which suddenly grew over there thanks to the great happiness in the life [we had] together with Tanyusha and Glebushka [his son Gleb], thanks to the nice and cheerful climate and relative mildness of winter and thanks to the touching attitude towards me from the townspeople and villagers. As a matter of fact, in its center, albeit a large one, Tobolsk presents as a city that is very picturesquely located, rich with ancient churches, religious and academic institutions, [but] at the periphery it gradually and unnoticeably transitions into a real village. This circumstance, along with noble simplicity and the feeling of self-respect of Siberians, in my opinion gives the relationships among the residents and not visitors, the specific character of directness, naiveté and benevolence, which we always valued and which creates the atmosphere necessary to our souls.

In addition, various news spreads around the city very fast, the first lucky incidents for which God helped me be of use brought out such trust towards me, that the number of those wanting to get my advice grew with each day, up to my sudden and unexpected departure. Turning to me were mostly those with chronic illnesses, those who were already treated again and again, [and] sometimes, of course, those who were completely hopeless. This gave me the opportunity to make appointments for them, and my time was filled for a week or two ahead in each hour, as I was not able to visit more than six - seven, in extreme cases eight patients per day: since all these cases needed thorough review and much and much pondering.

Who was I called to besides those ill within my specialty?! To the insane, to those asking to be treated for drunkenness; [they] brought me to a prison to see a kleptomaniac, and with sincere joy I remember that the poor wretch of a lad, who was bailed out by his parents on my advice (they are peasants), behaved decently the rest of my stay… I never denied anyone, as long as the supplicants accepted that certain illnesses were completely beyond the limits of my knowledge. I only refused to go to those recently fallen ill if, of course, they needed emergency help, since, on the one hand I did not want to get in the way of regular physicians of Tobolsk, which is very lucky to have them in the capacity and most importantly, quality of relations.

They are all very knowledgeable and experienced people, excellent comrades and so responsive that the Tobolsk public is used to sending a horse or cabby to the doctor and receive him immediately. More valuable is their patience towards me, who did not have the ability to fulfill these types of requests, but on the contrary, was forced to make them wait a long time. It’s true that soon it became commonly known that I never refuse anyone and keep my word sacredly, a patient could wait for me with peace of mind.

But if their illness did not allow them to wait, then the patients went to local physicians, which always made me happy, or to Doctor Derevenko, who also possessed their vast trust, or they headed to the hospital, and this way it would happen that when I arrived at a time of prescheduled appointment, I did not find the patient there, but that was always convenient, since most of the time my schedule was so extensive that I wasn’t able to accomplish everything, at times debts formed, which I paid off when I did not find someone there.

To see [patients] at the house where I was staying was inconvenient, and anyway there was no room, nevertheless from 3 until 4 ½ - 5, I was always home for our soldiers, whom I saw in my room, the walk-through room, but since only our own [people] passed though there, it did not discomfort them. During the same hours, my town patients came to see me too, either for a refill of a prescription or to make an appointment. I was forced to make exceptions for peasants who came to see me from villages tens or even hundreds of versts away (in Siberia they don’t pay attention to distance), and who were in a hurry to get back. I had to see them in a small room before the bathroom, which was a bit out of the way, where a large chest served as an examining table.

Their trust was especially touching to me, and their confidence, which never betrayed them, that I will treat them with the same attention and affection as any other patient, not only as an equal but as a patient who has every right to my care and services, gave me joy. Those who were able to spend the night, I would visit at the inn early the next morning. They always tried to pay, but since I followed our old codex, of course I never accepted anything from them, so, while I was busy in an izba with a patient, they hurried to pay my cabby. This surprising courtesy, to which we are not used to at all in large cities, was occasionally highly pertinent, as at times I was not in a position to visit patients due to lack of funds and fast-growing cab costs.

Therefore, for our mutual benefit, I widely took advantage of another local tradition and asked those who had a horse, to send it for me. This way, the streets of Tobolsk saw me riding in wide bishop’s sleighs, as well as behind beautiful merchant trotters, but most often drowning in hay in most ordinary burlap. My friends were equally varied, which perhaps was not to everyone’s liking, but it was no concern of mine. To Tobolsk’s credit I must add that there was no direct evidence of this at all, and only one indirect, which in addition was not unquestionable.

One evening the husband of one of my female patients came to see me with a request to visit her right away, because she had strong pains (in the stomach). Luckily, I was able to fulfill his wish, albeit at a cost to another patient, for whom I did not schedule a visit, but rode with him to his house in a cab in which he came to get me. On the way he starts to grumble at the cabby, that he is not going the right way, to which the latter reasonably respon [letter ends abruptly].”

[parti-pooper]

Headcanons for Stendy Family?

Alright, Anon! The time has come! OvO/ I don’t know if these are the kinds of headcanons you had hoped for - but I hope you can enjoy them anyway. uwu

Stan proposes to Wendy on the night of a wedding reception. Drunk. After puking. With no ring. Seeing his friends get married that day made him get mushy, and so he downed a bunch of liquid luck in the hopes of getting up enough courage to ask her to marry him. He thought it’d be romantic. Cue Wendy having to say nope after watching her beautiful, beloved boyfriend eject his guts and slur, “Wen-dyyy I larvuI lff fugignk larvaruu youuu,, marr meh ples marr meybeb…”

Wendy tells Stan what he did the next morning, and he gets embarrassed as he explains his thoughts last night. Wendy asks if he was genuine, and Stan says yeah, he really was. “Ask me again,” she says. “I don’t know,” he laughs nervously, “I’m kind of scared you’ll say no again.”  He pulls at his hair anxiously and averts his gaze, but she grabs his hand and makes him look into her eyes. “Ask me again,” she says, and he can’t deny her. “Okay, uhm… Wendy, I love you. Will you marry me?” He winces, pained, while he waits for her response. She smiles easily. “Yes.”

And that’s how Stan proposed to Wendy, drunk, and then proposed to her again, hungover. Still a better love story than Twilight.

They have a winter wedding. It snows on the day, and so Wendy and Stan both have white flakes in their black hair in all their wedding photographs outside the church. His horrible friends make dandruff jokes, but Stan and Wendy are so happy, they can’t even care. They’re shivering and smiling the whole day long.

Wendy keeps her last name, which Stan is disappointed about after all of those years writing Wendy Marsh in the margins of his notebooks, but he respects her decision.

They honeymoon in Hawaii. They’re a basic bitch couple, at the end of the day. (Butters sets them up, btw. Mahalo Rewards Card, biiitch!)

They were living together even before marriage, so they just continue to live like that for the first year of marriage. It isn’t long before Wendy gets pregnant though (Marsh men move fast, f.y.i., they end up being the first couple in their group of friends to have kids) and they quickly realise that their one-bedroom apartment probably isn’t the best place to raise a kid.

They end up moving to a cramped little house in a different area of their city. Stan wanted to move somewhere with a big backyard and a nearby park and quiet, safe roads for his kid to play in, like back where he grew up. But they had to stay in the city while Wendy finished her PhD.

It’s hard to make ends meet while Wendy’s working on her thesis and a part-time job while pregnant (with all of the discomfort that implies), and Stan’s trying to make enough money for the both of them doing whatever job he can. It’s a very poor time for them. There’s a lot of stress and a lot of arguments break out between them. They go to bed angry sometimes.

…But they always make up eventuality. It’s the hardest nights that make them cling the closest.

Stan and Wendy end up getting two babies for the price of one. They find out they’re having twins, and their stress just doubles.

They work themselves to exhaustion trying to save up enough money for their stork delivery, taking extra shifts at their work. They sleep whenever they’re not working. They forget to eat. Some days, they don’t even see each other. When they do, they can’t even muster the energy to just talk.

Sometimes they forget what it’s all for.

They remember again when Wendy finally gives birth, and they have their beautiful twin daughters. Stan holds one in each arm, and cries the whole time. Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny arrive pretty much instantaneously, being that over-dependent surrogate family they’ve always been to him, and all just hug the ever-loving shit out of Stan and coo over their new nieces.

Wendy gets a visit from all her girlfriends, too. Bebe, Nichole, Red, Heidi, Annie, and more, all come bearing gifts like the Wise Men at Jesus’ birth.

Having twins is no fucking party. Have you ever tried to soothe two babies crying at once? Stan and Wendy can’t take turns; they both have to get up in the night when the babies cry. The sleep deprivation is real, you guys.

Wendy has to take time off from her part-time job due to maternity leave, and she has to finish her thesis from home, so she stays and looks after the twins in the day. Stan goes to work all day, and then he takes over at night when he gets home.

Sometimes Gran’pa Randy and Gran’ma Sharon will take the kids off their hands for a weekend just so that Stan and Wendy can catch up on some fucking sleep. Stan has never loved them more than when they do that.

The twins grow up to be absolute terrors. Neither Stan nor Wendy know where they got their mischievous side from, but boy did they get it. Like, why are they so determined to stick pointy things in power outlets? Why do they constantly want to put small objects in their mouths? Why don’t they want to wear diapers? Why do they like to scream at the top of their lungs when their mom is working? Why do they think the wall is the best place to draw on with crayons? (Uncle Cartman is so proud, btw.)

Stan and Wendy swear up and down that they are never having another one. Never, ever. Nope. Not a single one. Two is more than enough. No.

Two years later, Wendy is pregnant again.

She’s finally finished her PhD though, so they think it’s finally time to move to that huge house with the big backyard in a nice neighbourhood like they always talked about.

“No, Stan, we’re not getting a dog too. We barely just got the girls potty-trained, and we still have to take them out on leashes. That’s all the dog we need right now.”

She gives birth to their son, Thomas, not long after. And thank goodness, he inherited his father’s quietness and is not as unnecessarily loud as his sisters. He also inherited his father’s sensitivity, however, and he cries at near-anything. A very fussy baby. He lives in his daddy’s arms, and he is literally, actually scared of his own shadow. His big sisters bully him a lot.

But they won’t allow anyone else to bully him. Like their mom, they stand up against any tyranny (that isn’t their own). Also like their mom, they are ferociously intelligent, and their parents fear them for it.

All three children have the same black hair and blue eyes as their mom and dad and grow up to be the absolute spit of their parents.

When Stan and Wendy look at their children, they quite literally forget all those years of hardship they went through; because what is that suffering, now, compared to this bliss?

Stan is such a sappy dad, in fact, that he writes songs about his children, for his children, and sings to them on his guitar.

Then the girls try to steal his guitar and almost break it with their careless strumming because they can’t appreciate nice things when they’re, what, six? Seriously, Stan, what did you think would happen?

But they quiet down and listen when Stan sings them a lullaby at bedtime.

Also, Stan is a pretty big push-over. His kids just need to bat their baby blues at them and he’s wrapped ‘round their tiny fingers. An ice-cream? You got it, honey. A pony? Anything for you, sweetie. What’s that, now? The assassination of the US president? Just hold on, cupcake, I’m on my way to D.C. right now.

I swear, Wendy “Don’t Fucking Test Me” Burger is the only force keeping that family from falling to the whims of their terrible twins and the wants of their infant son.

She makes sure they brush their teeth and eat their greens and look both ways before crossing the street. She has full folders of their medical and dental history organised in chronological order. She already has a college fund set up for all three kids that she keeps money flowing into monthly. She helps them with their homework (mostly Thomas, the girls do fine on their own). She’s a fucking scary force of nature, man.

…But maybe she lets Stan get that dog one day.

Uncle Kyle, Uncle Cartman, and Uncle Kenny visit often, and bring their own kids when they have them too. They reminisce while watching their children run around, playing and fighting, like they all used to do as kids. And they spoil Stan and Wendy’s children absolutely fucking rotten, and that doesn’t fucking help, guys, stop bringing the girls candy when we’re trying to teach them that locking their baby brother in the pantry is bad!!

Anyway, they’re a beautiful fucking family. I’m happy for them.

[authors-dumpster]

Have Faith

The last time I set foot in a church was not by choice, but because my mom wanted the whole family to attend the Mother’s Day mass. It was May of 2017, and it was the last place I wanted to be. I had to sit through the whole service, bored out of my mind, unable to focus on anything the priest was saying. I tried to appear somewhat sharp for my mother’s sake, but to no avail. I can’t remember exactly when I decided to drop my affiliation with Catholicism, but it has been awhile since I had much faith in the Man Upstairs.

I sincerely believe that my loss of faith has something to do with the fact that my elementary and middle school education was in a private, Catholic institution. Maybe it was the teachers, or maybe it was my classmates that spoiled it for me, but upon reaching the eighth grade, I started to question basically everything that I had previously believed in under the Catholic faith. I clearly remember one day in late February of  2014 where I had my own little epiphany about my faith, or rather my lack of it. I was walking home from school. It was a particularly warm day in February- at least, as warm as it can be during late winter in Michigan. The sun was shining brightly, and the rays were bouncing off the dripping snow mounds that bordered the pavement. I was at the age of developing my own opinionated and rebellious thoughts, so naturally I was lost in my own mind as I dragged my snowboots across the icy ground. I began to wonder about a lot of things. What makes the snow so white? How does snow collect in such a way? Why is it that the sun rays don’t melt the snow faster? What is the sun? What’s up with our solar system anyway? All these questions, of course, could be answered easily with “God made it so”, but that was not good enough for me.

When I mentioned my questions to my parents at the dinner table, they gave me the expected answer. “Well, because that’s how God wants it. He wants the snow to look like that, so it just does.” This made me even more confused and frustrated. Obviously it could be explained with science, so why did they insist on this deity instead? I tried not to delve into this too much, and focus on what really mattered: my confirmation ceremony. At least, I thought it mattered. I was wrong about that too, but more about that later.

I remember a time when I thought that dropping your religion was something shocking, even scandalous. When, back in my elementary days, my best friend told me that her brother didn’t go to church anymore, I was shocked (and secretly intrigued). I suppose that even then, I felt that “church” was a boring place where I wasted my time. I never paid much attention anyways, no matter how stern the nuns were, no matter how funny the homilies were, no matter how many bathroom breaks I got.

I think it was sometime around my junior year of high school when I completely dropped religion as a part of my life. At 16 years old, I was very sure of this; it was a world “with which I no longer wanted to have anything to do,” as Hermann Hesse stated in Demian. Before this, though, religion was something obligatory for me. What I mean to say is that after my confirmation ceremony, I really did not feel the sense of community that one should apparently be feeling when you get that blessing from the Bishop. In the Catholic religion, the confirmation ceremony is the final step for a child before they become an “adult” in the community, similar to a Jewish bar and bat mitzvah. But I felt no different leaving the church than I did walking in. So much for faith, right?

Something else that I have come to realize is that I never felt that religion was a big part of my life. I had a subconscious set of rules that I followed, which had formed based on my exposure to Catholicism for my entire life, but that’s where the line is drawn. As I mentioned earlier, I never had that special feeling of being “fully integrated into the community” when I got confirmed. I never had that special epiphany. My soul (whatever that is) was neither touched by nor filled with the Holy Spirit. I think that that point in my life was when I really doubted all the things that were being told to me by my teachers, my family members, and the priests.

Going to a public high school really turned my life towards the better. I didn't have to go to religion class. I wasn't tested on how well I knew the 10 Commandments. I didn’t have to memorize the Apostles Creed. I didn’t have to sing questionable hymns in a dimly lit church full of kids who all wanted the same thing: to play outside on the playscape, and then go home. I can still appreciate churches and cathedrals for their architecture, though, and the purposes that they served. Not only a beautiful meeting place for people of a strong community, but also a safe house. Namely, the grand cathedrals in England that served as shelters during the Blitz of World War II, so that’s something.

My decision to be an ex-Catholic (as dramatic as that sounds) has had some negative repercussions amongst my family. My parents, naturally, attempted to support me in my endeavours, and said that they would “try to respect my opinions”. After the first child, it gets easier. My sister, too, is an ex-Catholic. She was more discrete about dropping her affiliation with the religion, though. First, she stopped going to mass. It always starts with that. Then, she just stated that she was no longer Catholic, one day in the summer. It was quite a surprise for my parents, but they dealt with it easily. It was definitely more smooth than me literally answering my mother’s question of “How was your day at school?” with “I’m not a Catholic anymore,” but I digress. Perhaps my sister had something to do with my own loss of interest in religion. I did look up to her, after all. She was the original, and I was the CNTRL C + CNTRL V. Old habits die hard, I guess.

My parents are fine with it now, but there were definite instances where my “atheism was getting in the way”. Evenings at the dinner table were always fun, when they didn’t end up with someone stomping off to the porch to angrily fume in the outside air. We tried to keep the conversations away from anything politics, religion, and/or business-related, but sometimes the conversations were as wild as a mare, and we were unable to control it when it got out of hand.

As I think it over, I’ve come to the conclusion that religion has, in a way, held me back in many aspects of my life. There are certain morals based around Catholicism that I still hold to myself, but these morals have restricted me in building lasting relationships with people. What’s more is that I was very biased against many different kinds of people for most of my childhood. Due to how my parents connected religion to politics, I remember being furious when seeing the final results of the 2008 Presidential Election, only because my dad was angry that a Democrat had won. I did not know a single policy of the government at that time, but since the Church and the State was so connected in my family, I equated one party with good and moral people (Republicans), and the other with the exact opposite (Democrats). This too, has changed for me. In this way, I was held back from realizing my own political views, which are very different from my parents. They now set me apart from all members of my family, which can be very alienating.

I never got the chance to choose my religion, so that could also be a contributing factor to the grand question of why I dropped religion. Do I want to follow a different religion in the future? This is something I have definitely thought about and strongly considered, but to no avail. There are so many options that I could explore and research; but would I be able to find the right one for me? This calls for me to do some reflecting on myself, and what morals I hold close. I could be a Deist, a Wiccan, an Atheist, a Druid, a Heathen, an Agnostic, a Taoist- the possibilities are truly endless. For now, however, I simply wish to leave that part of my life empty. Maybe one day, if something really calls to me and draws me in, then I’ll see where it takes me. Would I ever go back to Catholicism? No. I had quite the ride, but it was not the one for me.

As for myself, I can acknowledge that I fall under the “agnostic” category. Maybe someday, I’ll find a faith that I can follow willingly. Maybe someday, I can be a part of a community that shares the same beliefs, and has utter confidence in those beliefs. Maybe someday, I’ll find a group of people that practice what they preach, and they will accept me into their company. But as for now, I can only twiddle my thumbs and wonder about a lot of things. What makes the snow so white? How does snow collect in such a way? Why is it that the sun rays don’t melt the snow faster? What is the sun? What’s up with our solar system anyway? 

Even now, in all my adult confidence, I have a hard time admitting that I do not follow any religion. I’ve been so used to simply saying “I’m Catholic” that saying anything else still feels odd. I don’t go into details unless someone asks; the story is not that extravagant anyway. It is even more challenging for me to admit that I am an agnostic. It’s less acknowledged than Atheism, but still relevant. The part that really throws people off is how different it is than Atheism, and different still from not following a religion. Agnosticism is, in simplest terms, that the existence of any deity or higher being is unknown. There’s something unexplainable going on, so I couldn’t explain it to you if I had all the time in the world. For now, I am neither denying, nor agreeing with anyone. I’d like to keep it that way for a while.

[it-is-bugs]

TDBM Thinkie Thoughts: 5.8

Finally to 5.8.  Where did this season go?  And I've nattered so much that I've got to put it under a cut!  

Continuing the unfortunate trend from 5.7, we get 10 pounds of flour stuffed into a five pound sack.  Way too much plot than is necessary.  It just finalized my thought with 5.7 that the end of the season would have been better served by doing a 2 parter of a single over-arcing plot line.  

We know Ned is doomed because he got more lines in the first 5 minutes than he's had in the previous five seasons including dramatically confronting Munro: "You bothering my girlfriend?"  Ah, the glorious days when women were men's property who had to be protected from other men.  

Ned got in over his head with his girlfriend.  Don't hook up with the ex of some two-bit hood even if he doesn't murder you. Poor Ned.  We all adored you!

JT and CM's excellent faceacting as they rush in is just spot perfect--both are heartbreaking but different from each other. The touch of Lucien's hand on Matthew's back briefly as he supports his friend without making him look weak in front of the lads.  How Matthew removes his hat and puts it over his heart before giving orders.  Lucien closes Ned's eyes, straightens his broken neck, and later how he strokes Ned's hair once they're in the morgue.  

Matthew's really strong this episode.  How he reins in Lucien, after a season of telling Charlie to get him have his head.  He's not going to let Lucien just cruise along as usual and it takes a few times of Matthew saying it for it to sink in for Lucien.  

The girlfriend is just a whiny mess for most of the episode--Sorry Dead!Ned, she wasn't good enough for you.  

After spotting the newspaper, dramatic run by Rose--surely SOMEONE would have called her if Charlie was really dead.  Calm down, honey.  Their completely flat chemistry continues as he comforts her.

"William!"  Lucien chases Munro out of the station.  Munro will only respond when he calls him "Munro."  Doesn't Lucien remember that Munro doesn't like to be called William?  

Munro rants that Lucien has no respect for rules and authority.  Uh...says the corrupt cop?  That's what's meant by unreliable narrator.  "God help him (Ned) if you're on the case." OH, you mean the guy who solved all the crimes when you were running this place?  

What I mean by way too much plot: Munro returned to Melbourne in disgrace, under the cloud of corruption...so he continues to accept bribes, this time from Walter?  Whose girlfriend Ned manages to steal while he's stationed in Melbourne on secondment?  Then Ned returns to Ballarat, the girlfriend joins him, Walter follows them, and Munro follows him?  *clutching head*

I did grab onto one thing; what was Munro going to do with this gun?  Did he wanted to solve the case and look like a hero?   

Like that Patrick quite likes Jean but still hates Lucien.  Let's not soften him too much.  

Bill and Charlie bust in on Way!Overacting!Walter in bed: "You're worried I'm holding a loaded weapon?"  Covers up under his chin, hands at waist, and he's obviously naked. Ack!

We finally get a naked ass on this show and it's NOT the one we want!

Really great scene with Matthew firing Lucien.  JT can go a bit far in the seething direction, but I really liked his choices here.  Then Lucien has to do the walk of shame from his desk.  

Who was it that named it Pet Rock Christopher? I understand why the show went with the Pet Rock, but it was jarring to me.  Christopher's name would have been on the Ballarat war memorial seen in 1.2.  Or perhaps a plaque inside the church.  Jean had said in the past that Christopher doesn't have a grave (Not even in the war cemetery in Papua New Guinea?), so had she requested that a rock be installed right by the church front door?

I loved seeing Jean proudly shedding her old role--"I worked for Dr Blake" and putting on her new one, "We're engaged."  And then Munro peed in her cornflakes and he was dead to me before he was dead.  Again, he's the other side of Lucien's coin alright.  Didn't we hear that your wife left you?  I guess her marriage gave her a lot of pain.  

I liked the touch of Lucien giving Cec his annual Christmas tip.  Cec check's the size as Lucien walks away.  Hee.  

Lucien refuses to believe that Munro has just come to watch him fall from grace.  "I was only ever doing my job."

It's helpful to get the details of what a police surgeon is actually supposed to do: "Your job is to inspect crime scenes, perform autopsies, fill out death certificates."

"You do what you do because you have to."  > True dat.  That's it, that's the show.  

"We're two sides of the same coin."  Yes, if one is black and one is white.  

"Because I've become expendable.  It offends my sense of justice."  I don't even know where to start with that.  Justice, like helping Genevieve's killer cover up his crime?  Like that every crime seemed to be him settling on the first obvious suspect and trying to railroad that person, instead of letting Lucien do his job and find the real killer?   

So I assume that he came to kill Walter and without any true expectation of coming out alive?  

So he ends up taking a bullet, but ironically for Lucien.  Lucien gets to say that classic cliche line: "You're going to be fine!"  Er...  

Unlike Munro, Lucien isn't a petty person.  He has to give credit where credit is due: "You saved my life."

With Munro's line, "It's my job," you can see that he wants to be a hero, to fit in, to be liked.  He knows what a policeman is supposed to be, he just hasn't done it very often.  

Speaking of coppers doing their job, wow, this wasn't a good episode for Ballarat's finest.  One constable dead, Walter knocks down Bill right there in the station and escapes, then Charlie's thumped on the head in the morgue.  

It must have been a difficult episode to film with both bodies on the slab being actors well known to the principles. Did they have to fight laughing or crying?  

It's torture to just watch the autopsy for Lucien.  Matthew knows how to punish him.  Alice "Gotch'you," as she pulls out the bullet gives me life.  I also appreciate how she says that she didn't like Munro and that's it.  Take down that note.  When you're dead to Alice, you're literally dead to her.  

Lucien gets his mojo back by stealing evidence.  

Billie the Madam has a nice turn.  Calls Lawson Matthew.  Hee!  She loaned Ned the money for the ring, then was shaking him down for repayment...  WAY TOO MUCH PLOT.  I had wondered how Ned afforded that ring, but was this necessary?  Do we really believe Billie sneaked into the station and snapped Ned's neck?  

When she's all over Charlie, I'm left wondering if Rose/Charlie is public knowledge?  I'd thought so by this point but perhaps not?

Yet oddly with all this over-plotting, other parts are left out.  Did Baker go back for the notebook or was he looking for Lucien to kill at the morgue?  How would Baker have known about the notebook?  Did we see him having access to the radio transmissions?  Did he lead Lucien to the pub so he could lie in wait for him there?  

Delightful, Jean's trying to say goodbye to her church in peace and here's Fr Emery.  

When he compliments the flowers, she responds: "So glad you've noticed."  A nice dig.  "I always do."  And from her expression, we know that he never says anything.  There's that lesson on how to retain parishors, Em.

The church is her home.  That's what the loss will be. It was an important thing when Lucien's gave her one sort of home, but this one has been with her longer and must be closer to her heart.  It was always hers, not given to her by Thomas and Lucien.  

When Bill is kicking the shit out of Over!Acting!Walter, I see that he learned alot from almost losing his job over beating up a suspect.

Really nice touch of Baker using the morgue table's head prop as a weapon to bash in Charlie's head.

After running through the streets with tear-filled eyes, Rose doesn't seem to care that Charlie's been assaulted.

Perhaps this is why Pet Rock Christopher is right by the door?  So Norm can find Jean easily?  

I really love Gary Sweet's performance. It's rather terrifying with his maniac manner. It's hilarious that he had stood over a dying Lucien and then gets ticked the Lucien didn't in fact die.  

But then he makes the fatal error of pushing Jean's button; self-pity; she can't stand that.  She's just made this  massive, life-changing decision and doesn't have time for Norm's pity party.  

"For God's sake, Jean," wails Lucien when she charges the killer. She'd made her decision and she couldn't go back.  If Lucien is gone, she's not just going to go back to the church.  She's had a fundamental sea change in her way of thinking. And she's just really really pissed that this whinger may take this New Jean away from her.  That and she keeps catching a heel in the turf, it's hot as hell, and she probably left the Christmas roast cooking.  She needs to get home, like now.   

Nice touch that Matthew needs Lucien to escort Norman across the uneven turf.  The way that things have been going, Norm could have run off and the Ballarat force would have suffered their final humiliation for the episode.  

I love that Alice and Bill are overdressed compared to the others at the Christmas party.  They must feel the most outsiders to begin with, and now this.  Alice's gown is lovely and Bill looks like his mum washed his neck, so it's all good.  Bill leads the toast to Ned, but no one will toast Munro but Lucien.  Gosh, didn't you back Munro, Bill?  Hmmm....lots of revised memories in this episode.  

It makes me  the whinger now, but what was Jean's other present/s for Lucien?  A new set of pajamas?  A new dressing gown?  

"You know I snore."  

"For better or worse, Lucien."

To be the voice of doom, but it's not snoring that Jean needs to worry about from sleeping with Lucien, but let's save that for S6, shall we?

[delta-has-a-blog]

*Consistent extremely loud gremlin giggling as I remember all my off-beat clerics and paladins*

So, first Clerics because Yolef, my War/Healing cleric of Freyja is anything but a normal Cleric. You see, he'll heal you, then give you a bill after that you are religiously obligated to pay to the church or yes they will have guards throw them in jail. This includes the other party members. He also barely looks like a Cleric, often carrying flasks of home-made ale and wearing what is basically a track suit. Ooh yeah, he's a literal pothead too who also grows that, as he comes from a farm so he has a rather green thumb. And yes, I even picked up feats to have those all possible.

And for Paladins I have the perfect, prefect example of an off beat one, Virronos my Angel Paladin of the Goddess of Love.... and Sex! However he does have a type... and that's some good scaly reptile booty. Lamias, Gorgons, Dragons, Nagaji, Kobolds, Lizard Folk and any other reptile-like race was on his "Will glady tap that." list. However the scariest thing is two of his stats ended up being just 20, strength and charisma, respectively, while wisdom was hilariously low at 6. So, when he got the urge to get it on he could surely convince someone to do it, and he never held that urge back, no matter the situation.

And ohhh god did he get it on, in fact my DM forced me to have to via the fact that he was mad at me for just slapping this on the table and therefore was sure to make me play all aspects of this character, which I would've anyhow, but he regretted it when Virronos boinked and ended up actually marrying an equally horny ancient magical black void dragon, Delara even older than himself, a literal fucking angel. Pun wholely intended btw. However unlike my above Cleric he looked like he would be a legit paladin, Pearlescent armor and skin like copper with hair like pure silver, and eyes that looked like glowing emeralds without any pupils, just pure gems in a white sea. Then huge, metal wings that shine as if they are steel. But he acts nothing like what a normal paladin would, which I love. You see him fly down from the sky and good first action is to look dead into the eyes of any reptilian woman around him and go, "Excuse me mam would you like to assist me in prayer, you see I don't pray for love... I make love."

In fact I remember the convo that Virronos had with the Void dragon, who due to a misunderstanding thought he was an enemy at the moment and had him already stripped of him armor and tied up. Bad decision, honestly. So, here's how this went mist as she began interrogation.

Del- "You, intruder, why did you break into my lair?"

V- "I'm an Angel so don't worry about your possessions my dear."

Del- "The more for me to worry, why would you break in?"

V- "I was teleported here outside my will, although I am terribly sorry to inform you I can't apologize for landing here, as that it lead me to meet you."

(Not quite passed charisma check, passed diplomacy tho)

Del- "I uh, have no reason to disbelieve you so I'll let you go now if you'll leave." (Goes to untie him as she's been in her half-dragon form and ergo is smaller atm)

V- (interrupting her and speaking) "Wait please!" (Dramatic whip of good long ass hair (which dragons are historically attracted too and i know this personally via fables))

Del- (jumps back) "W-what do you require??"

(Completely passed charisma check at a nat 20 v a 1)

V- "I'd actually prefer you tighten these up."

And then by now the table was just all wheezing and dying, myself included.

Why do we always potray Clerics and Paladins EXACLY SAME WAY?

Aka as priests and knights of holy orders?

Wouldn’t a father of a family that wokrs as lumberjack and strongly belives in gods of nature be as good a cleric like dude in a robe? 

Wouldn’t a Butch girl with a giant sword and even bigger faith in lesbianism be even better paladin then guys that glued holy symbols into their swords???

[shadowykingdomcollectionme-blog]

A Rewiew Of The Bowflex Sporting activity Residence Health club.

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