#Catholic Center Party

[tmarshconnors]

"History has its own way of dealing with individuals, as well as with nations."

Franz Joseph Hermann Michael Maria von Papen, Erbsälzer zu Werl und Neuwerk was a German national conservative, diplomat, Prussian nobleman and General Staff officer. He served as the chancellor of Germany in 1932, and then as the vice-chancellor under Adolf Hitler from 1933 to 1934.

Born: 29 October 1879, Werl, Germany

Died: 2 May 1969 (age 89 years), Sasbach, Germany

Chancellor of Germany: Franz von Papen served as the Chancellor of Germany from June to November 1932. His tenure was marked by political instability and economic difficulties during the final years of the Weimar Republic.

2) Role in Hitler's Rise to Power: Von Papen played a crucial role in Adolf Hitler's rise to power. As Vice Chancellor under Hitler in 1933, von Papen and other conservative elites believed they could control and moderate Hitler's policies. This miscalculation contributed significantly to the consolidation of Nazi power.

3) Diplomatic Career: After being sidelined by the Nazi regime, von Papen served as Germany's ambassador to Austria (1934-1938) and later to Turkey (1939-1944). In Austria, he was instrumental in facilitating the Anschluss, the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany in 1938.

4) Acquittal at Nuremberg Trials: Despite his involvement with the Nazi regime, von Papen was acquitted at the Nuremberg Trials in 1946. The tribunal found insufficient evidence to convict him of war crimes, although he was later denazified by a German court and sentenced to eight years in a labor camp, a sentence which was soon reduced, and he was released.

5) Post-War Life: After his release, von Papen published his memoirs, "Der Wahrheit eine Gasse" ("Memoirs") in 1952, offering his perspective on his political career and the events of the era. He lived a relatively quiet life in West Germany until his death in 1969.

[firefighter-diazbuckley]

i know that i’m an outlier in this but why the fuck is everything in college so late

[cuntess-carmilla]

TERFs from the imperial core have this fantasy that global south feminists and global south women in general MUST universally agree with them at least in principle of "women = born with a dyadic vulva" as if their views on gender weren't inherently colonial and white supremacist, and as if Latin América specifically isn't at the forefront worldwide regarding the trans liberation movement.

Yeah, yeah, Spain passed a nice little bill that makes it easier for trans people there to change their name and gender marker legally (genuinely happy for the Spaniard trans community), but they're like, anywhere between 4-8 years late to the party compared to Argentina, Chile and México.

Even within like, colonized global north nations as is the case between Scotland and England, it was Scotland that tried to pass a similar bill recently (and was stopped by its imperialist relation to England), not the other way around.

I'd also really appreciate if TERFs stopped calling their feminism "marxist". Maybe, MAYBE some of you idiots have marxist views when it comes to economics (and you're all still closer to fascists in every political regard than not, ask your queen Tumblr user celestia!), but your feminist analysis doesn't come from marxist class-centered analysis -- which requires us to agree that class is constructed through power and culture for the sake of oppressive resource and labor distribution, rather than being inherent qualities or the natural order -- it comes from pretty fucking Catholic and reactionary views on gender and sex that can't be divorced from gender-essentialism and bio-essentialism, and ignore any sane or hopeful analysis on concrete oppression.

In other words, get fucked.

[buddiebeginz]

I really wish some of you would realize that when actors agree to do these kinds of interviews most of the questions are preapproved before hand. There will at the very least be some kind of conversation between the actor's team and the interviewer about what questions they may not want asked. So if 911 and Abc really wanted to focus on Tommy and Buck and stop talking about Buddie (which would make the most sense if Buddie was never happening) I’m positive they'd stop answering questions about Buddie.

Also Oliver could have answered that question about Buddie in many different ways he especially could have done more to downplay Buddie happening if he didn't think it was ever in the cards. He's always been very careful to not try and get our hopes up.

He made it a point though to talk about how much chemistry Buck and Eddie (and him and Ryan have) have and said "there's stuff there" between them. He also talked about how if Buddie were to happen he wants the story to be done carefully so as not to perpetuate any queer stereotypes. He literally could have just kept his answer short and sweet and said like he's done in the past that he gets why people ship them and he's open to whatever happens next on the show but he didn't. I just don't believe he would have given such an in depth answer about Buddie if he thought the show was never going there.

Also like was pointed out in this post Oliver's body language was very telling in that part of the interview. He's also usually pretty articulate and he was searching for what to say there and it definitely felt like he was a bit guarded about how he answered so as not to give anything away.

The other thing I think some of you have to realize about will they/won't they storylines is up until the show decides to show their hand they're going to let the audience think that the story is going in one direction. So right now they want us to think that Buck is with Tommy and Eddie is straight.

But they've also been laying down the bread crumbs that will eventually lead to Buddie going canon. Buck's whole bi awakening was centered around Eddie and Eddie has been connected to things ever since. They had Eddie show up to Buck's first date. They had Buck more upset that he lied to Eddie than the fact that his date with Tommy didn't go well. They had Maddie talk about Buck having something he needed to tell Eddie. They had the coming out scene with Buddie mimic the kiss scene with Tommy in some ways. They have Buddie showing up to the bachelor party/wedding in a couples costume when Buck is supposed to be going with Tommy.

Then they're starting to lay the pieces for Eddie's Catholic guilt storyline which will ultimately (likely) lead to a coming out storyline for him as well.

Please do not let any of the interviews and articles get you down or make you jump ship. I’m more convinced than ever that Buddie is happening. I also don’t believe for one minute that Tommy is Buck’s forever love. That person is Eddie. We just have to be patient and let the story play out. We are closer than we have ever been before to seeing our couple together for real.

[fireheartwraith]

What is Festa Junina?

You may have heard the brazilian cc's talking about throwing a festa junina in the server, but what is it exactly?

Festa Junina translates to June's Party, and its origins go back to pagan midsummer and harvest celebrations. Time went on and it mixed with catholic beliefs, especially those centered around Saint Anthony, Saint Peter, and Saint John the Baptist (which is why it is also known as São João).

The tradition was brought to Brazil with colonization. It's no longer a summer fest since it's winter, but you can still see the influence (maybe the bonfires are part of it).

Nowadays, Festa Junina is known for the traditional square dancing and the food — seriously, the food is amazing (look up pamonha, cural, canjica, pé-de-moleque, bolo de fubá, cuzcuz nordestino... damn I'm hungry)! Most of it is made with corn or peanuts. Mulled wine is also a must! People dress in a "country" fashion, with straw hats, puffy dresses, and drawn freckles and mustaches. Everything is VERY colorful.

School kids will put on shows (known as quadrilhas), which usually include a "wedding" comedy sketch. In my high school, the twist was that the best man was in love with the groom. It was very dramatic. I loved it.

Here are some pictures and traditional songs! I wish we could get a mod with the foods to the server or something, but just the skins and decorations will already be so much fun!

[deluweil]

Here's the thing, I have nothing against Lou/Tommy, but the accessive enthusiasm of him returning and everyone already talking about him showing up for next season,

Which if any of you watched for the last 7 seasons, it is very possible because writers love to drag temps over to the next seasons because apparently breakups are for season beginners, mostly (except for taylor),

is very off-putting.

1. Because the dude literally just showed up and they haven't even had one worthy make out session to even call it a situationship.

2. Buck hurt Eddie physically to get into Tommy's mouth and pants, which ruined it for me from the start tbh and Tommy had nothing to do with it, he was just there.

3. Buck has made Maddie's day, his coming out party - that is a big NO in my book. Because one, dude you literally came out, what if you decide eventually that you don't want this or don't want this with this specific first-guy-ever anymore? And two SHE IS YOUR SISTER THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS HAVE HER LEAVE ON HER HONEYMOON BEFORE YOU KILL YOUR PARENTS OF A HEART- ATTACK.

Even if they "seem accepting" to Buck’s face, this takes time to process, something better revealed in time and in private, once one is sure. Not thinking and talking about this the whole wedding!

And yes, I know, Buck is impulsive, but think for a second, would you want your baby brother to hijacke your wedding after so long of planning it? I know I would have killed him.

Would have told him in advance that if he's bringing his new boyfriend to my wedding, he better tell our parents first. Because this is my fucking day!

I love Buck, but his self-centered personality rubs me the wrong way this season.

Maybe because I wanted to see him growing the fuck up after 7 years and so many traumas and experiences and therapy that he went through, but nope, same old Buck, only instead of the dating the girl who gave him attention, he's seeing the guy who gave him attention.

It's annoying, it's off putting and frankly I am so mad at the writers and Tim for this because these characters deserved better.

And don't talk to me about representation because Shonda did the bi representation in Station 19 perfectly to the point that I was bummed that Travis and Eli didn't end up as endgame even though I loved Emmett with Travis.

Again somehow the 911 writers managed to taint for me what should have been and amazing experience, independent completely of buddie, but no they managed to not only mix Eddie and Buck with Tommy, the whole thing came at the expense of Eddie, physically and mentally, because not only did Buck not apologized to Eddie, Eddie also lost his new friend who now fawns over Buck.

So screw this storyline, I hate it and I hate how everyone is OK with everything that happened in the story, just because Buck is doing a dude(kissing really, there was no doing yet).

There's a lot of blocking in my future, most are just ppl who either came in now because of bi Buck or those who came from other disappointing fandoms and are just here for the rep not the actual story.

But some of us have been here since S1, we want the rep, but we want it to be complimenting, we want to fall in love with the character before it turns into a LI, we want the emotion, the connection, the obvious love building over several years.

Like Casey and Gabby and Severide and Stella, like Maya and Carina, like Travis and Emmett (even though I liked Eli better for him) like Sullivan and Natasha.

I want an emotional payout, give up the surprises, and the wrecked trucks and ships, just tell a good story!

And for the love of all that's holy, enough with the last-minute changes, those never turn out well in the long run. They literally started from scratch when they made the switch between Eddie and Buck.

Also in my opinion, Eddie had a LOT more chemistry with Lou/Tommy than Buck. It would have made so much more sense, in the catholic guilt and internal homophobia department, the nun and supposedly commitment issues was weak at best.

It could have been epic. 😩

And yes, Buck could have started the season single, no harm in that, maybe make him, I don't know, actually growing into something that he would like without someone else to pet his ego? Go back to therapy, work for the LT. exams, be interim captain, realize his worth and learn to love himself for him, not because someone else gave him attention and that made him preen, get him somewhere worthy. Even lessons with Tommy without involving Eddie in this would have been great.

Just something that shows character development, because up until now all I get is S2/S3 Buck and I've seen that movie before, I want my money back.

I realize this is harsh, and normally, I would stick to the light and fun and ignore the rest, but this had to be said out loud so I can go back to that.

That being said, as I said, I will watch Madney wedding purely for Madney. Anything else is just a bonus. I can't wait for that bachelor party and see wth happens to Chimney.

Happy Monday, my loves. ❤️

[just-dreaming-marvel]

LEGACY ~ 8

LEGACY MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,303ish

Summary: The Team regroups and goes on a mission.

Notes: Hope you enjoy!

Dinner was eaten quickly and, for the most part, quietly. Everyone was spread out in Clint’s kitchen, dining room, breakfast nook, and living room. Fury was in the kitchen, you and Nat were seated at the dining room table, Bruce was behind you, Steve was leaning on the wall that connected the living room and dining room, Clint was in the living room with his family, and Tony was throwing darts in the breakfast nook.

“Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time,” Fury started. “My contacts all say he’s building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don’t think it’s just one thing.”

“What about Ultron himself?” Steve asked.

“Ah. He’s easy to track, he’s everywhere. Guy’s multiplying faster than a catholic rabbit. Still doesn’t help us get an angle on any of his plans though.”

“Is he still going after launch codes?” you asked.

“Yes, he is. But he’s not making any headway.”

“I cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare,” Tony stated, as he threw a few darts. You rolled your eyes. Of course Tony had hacked into the Pentagon. 

“Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the Nexus about that.” 

“Nexus?” Steve questioned. 

“It’s the world internet hub in Oslo,” Bruce said. “Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on earth.”

“So what’d they say?” Clint asked as he came into the kitchen. 

“He’s fixated on the missiles,” Fury replied, “but the codes are constantly being changed.”

“By whom?” Tony wondered.

Clint quickly threw a dart across the room. It narrowly missed Tony’s face and hit the center of the dart board. Tony looked at Clint with a ‘really?’ expression. Clint simply shrugged it off and I smirked at the interaction.

“Parties unknown.”

“Do we have an ally?” Natasha asked.

“Ultron’s got an enemy. That’s not the same thing. Still, I’d pay folding money to know who it is.”

“I might need to visit Oslo, find our unknown,” Tony suggested.

“Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you’d have more than that,” Nat said.

“I do, I have you,” Fury replied. “Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream of. Here we all are, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this,” Fury motioned to everything around us, “laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard.” With that, Fury sat down at the head of the table.

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk.”

“You know what, Romanoff?” Steve replied, trying hard not to laugh at himself. Nat gave a mischievous smile in response.

“So what does he want?” Fury probed.

“To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies.”

“Person bodies,” Tony added. “The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we’re out modeled. But he keeps coming back to it.”

“When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed,” Natasha commented.

Bruce walked up to the table and looked at a picture of a butterfly that Clint’s daughter had drawn for Nat. “They don’t need to be protected–” Bruce started.

“They need to evolve,” you interrupted, quickly remembering what Ultron had said while he was holding onto you. “Ultron’s going to evolve.”

“How?”

“Helen…”

“Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?” Bruce quickly wondered.

~~~

Upon changing back into your suit, you headed back down the stairs. You paused when you heard Tony and Steve talking.

“I’ll take Natasha and Clint,” Steve stated.

“Alright,” Tony agreed. “Strictly recon. I’ll hit the Nexus and join you as soon as I can.”

“If Ultron is really building a body…”

“He’ll be more powerful than any of us.. Maybe all of us. An android designed by a robot.”

“You know I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me.”

Fury appeared next to Tony and Steve. “I’ll drop Banner off at the Tower,” he informed the two men. “You mind if I borrow Ms. Hill?”

“She’s all yours, apparently,” Tony bitterly answered.

“What are you going to do?” You asked, making yourself known as you walked down the stairs to them.

“I don’t know. Something dramatic, I hope,” Fury answered with a smirk.

“Will you be willing to take Y/N back to the Tower as well?” Tony asked Fury.

Before Fury could answer, you quickly put in, “I’m not going back to the Tower,” you argued. “I am more helpful anywhere else but that Tower. And you know that.”

Tony was quick to face you. “You’re going back to the Tower.”

“I am not. I am the only one who stands a chance against the Maximoff girl.”

“She’s right,” Fury added.

“What are they talking about, Tony?” Steve asked.

“When the Maximoff girl got into Banner’s head and forced him to Hulk out, she tried to get into mine as well,” you told him. “She couldn’t do anything to me. I am the best chance–the safest one– when it comes to going up against her.”

“I’m with Y/N on this one,” Fury said. “She can hold her own against the Maximoff girl. She could help bring them in.” Fury then walked out of the house.

“No, I’m not allowing it,” Tony said, shaking his head. He pointed a finger at you. “You’re going back to the Tower and that’s final.” He started heading outside.

“If Y/N really can’t be affected by the Maximoff girl, keeping her in the Tower isn’t the wisest decision,” Steve said to Tony. You were shocked that Steve was actually siding with you, especially when you hadn’t told him about your run in with the Maximoff girl. “Y/N has trained harder than anyone I know. She’s ready for this Tony.”

Tony stopped. You and Steve stayed behind him. You could tell that he wanted to shout at you about going with Fury, but he knew that Steve was right. You were perfectly trained and ready for this. And that’s what scared him the most.

“Fine,” he whispered. He whipped around and pushed a finger into Steve’s chest. “But she’s your responsibility, Rogers. You need to know where she is at all times. And if something happens to her… it’s on your head, Cap.”

~~~

You and Steve stood on a rooftop, overlooking Helen’s lab.

“You two minutes,” Steve said into the comms. “Stay close.” He turned to you. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’m ready,” you assured him, jumping onto the next rooftop

Steve followed right behind. The two of you used the rooftops and streets to reach Helen’s lab. When the two of you arrived, security was down, same with the technicians. Ultron had clearly been to the lab and destroyed it after he was done with it. The two of you ran through the building until you found Helen injured and bleeding on the floor.

“Dr. Cho!” Steve exclaimed. The two of you rushed over to her. Steve quickly started putting pressure on her wound. You noticed that she was having trouble breathing.

“He’s uploading himself into the body,” Helen informed through ragged breaths.

“Where?” You asked. Steve tried to get up to look around but Helen stopped him.

“The real power is inside the cradle. The gem, its power is uncontainable. You can’t just blow it up. You have to get the cradle to Stark.”

“First we have to find it,” Steve said.

“Go.”

Steve stood up and began making his way out of the room. He stopped when he noticed that you weren’t following him. He turned back around to see you place your hands on Helen’s wound.

“What… What are you doing?” Helen questioned. 

“Y/N, we need to go,” Steve’s tone was demanding as he marched over, almost to pull you away.

“I know,” you said. “But I can help.”

You didn’t remember how to do it, but you trusted in Fury’s words when he said that you could heal people. You took a deep breath and focused on her wound and your hands. Quickly, you began to feel some strength leave you through your hand. You noticed that her wound began to heal. As soon as the bleeding stopped, you pulled your hands away and stood up.

“How did you…” Steve’s question trailed off as he realized that there was no time for questions. “We’ve got to find the cradle.” You and Steve rushed out of the building and started running to the highway. “Did you guys copy that?”

“We did,” Clint responded from the quinjet.

“I’ve got a private jet taking off across town, no manifest,” Nat informed. “That could be him.”

“There. It’s the truck from the lab. Right above you guys. On the loop by the bridge. It’s them. I got three with the cradle, one in the cab. I could take out the driver.”

“Negative!” Steve quickly responded. “If that truck crashes, the gem could level the city.”

“We need to draw out Ultron,” you added.

The two of you climbed up a ladder to get to the upper level of the highway. You waited until the semi-truck was underneath you before you jumped. The two of you landed on top of the truck as gracefully as you could. Steve went to the back and slid down it to try and get the doors opened with his shield. Ultron shot open the doors from the inside, causing the doors to swing open with Steve hanging onto one. He swung the door back over, only for it to be blasted off. The door managed to get stuck on the truck with Steve laying on it, holding on.

“Well, he’s definitely unhappy!” Steve commented. “I’m gonna try and keep him that way.”

“You guys aren’t a match for him, Cap,” Clint advised.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Barton,” you said.

Steve climbed up the door and tried to enter the truck. Unfortunately, Ultron blasted him onto the windshield of the car behind the truck. You quickly jumped from the roof and into the back of the truck.

“Well, well, well,” Ultron said, almost with a smirk. “Come to get some answers?”

“Why would I get answers from you?” You spat.

“Because I’m the only one who will tell you the whole truth. Who can show you your full potential.” 

“And if I have my files?”

“You clearly haven’t looked at them yet… You would know that you can do better than helping the Avengers.”

You pulled a gun from your holster and shot at him a few times. There was a thud on the roof that you could only guess was Steve. Ultron quickly blasted you into the side of the truck and flew out to the roof. You moaned as you pushed yourself up, your wounds healing themselves. You went to say something through the comms, when you noticed it was missing.

Before you could do anything else, two of Ultron’s mini bots grabbed your arms. They weren’t holding you very tight, like they were under orders to keep you safe. You noticed a motorcycle gaining on the truck. It was Nat. Suddenly, the truck was being shot at and the bots holding onto you let go to go see what was happening. Nat drove her motorcycles closer to the truck and jumped in.

“Thanks for the help,” she sarcastically said.

“I lost my comms and then Ultron wanted to talk,” you defended yourself. “Not to mention his minions grabbing me.”

“You could have gotten loose.”

“I have super strength, but they’re robots made out of vibranium.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You both walked over to the cradle near the back. You looked into it, seeing a body of some sort. Nat shared a worried glance with you before you went over to the screen, trying to stop whatever was happening inside. 

“Woah!” You exclaimed as the truck was suddenly taking flight.

As the truck started to tilt, you fell to the ground and rolled towards the open end of the truck. Nat was able to grab onto the cradle.

“Negative!” Natasha quickly shouted. You assumed something was happening over the comms. “Y/N and I are still in the truck.” You pushed yourself up and began undoing the cradle’s straps with Nat. “Just be ready. We’re sending the package to you… You might wish you hadn’t asked that.”

Nat quickly placed a bomb onto the wall of the truck while you began pushing the cradle to get it moving. Once it had enough momentum, you and Nat held onto it as it headed out of the truck and towards the open quinjet.

Suddenly, you felt something grab your ankle and yank you from the cradle. You looked back to see that Ultron had grabbed you.

“Y/N!” Natasha screamed as the truck blew up.

Before you could fight back or say anything, a piece of the exploded truck hit your head, knocking you out.

~~~

“Y/N!” Natasha screamed again as the cradle landed in the quinjet.

“Cap, you see Y/N?” Clint asked worriedly.

“Y/N? What do you mean?” Steve questioned.

“Ultron took her,” Natasha said.

“What?!”

“Do you have eyes on her?” Clint repeated.

“No. Do you have the cradle?”

“We do.”

“Then go, get it to Stark!”

“But–”

“Go!”

Clint closed the quinjet and began flying off. “Damn it.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, trying to wrap their heads around losing you to Ultron.

“Clint,” Natasha got her friend’s attention, “what are we going to tell Tony?”

“Shit.”

next chapter >

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Peña’s Anatomy, Chapter Fifteen:

pairing: doctor!javier peña x resident!reader (Lucky)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, oral sex (m&f rec), 69, unprotected piv, very light sprinkles of angst, talks of surgery)

wc: 3.4k

series masterlist | javier masterlist

Tonight was the night of Javier’s cousin’s wedding in Laredo. After the relatively modest ceremony held at the local Catholic church, his entire extended family was packed inside of the local community center, the party so crowded that half of the attendees were forced to celebrate outside in the dirt lot, but no one seemed to mind.

You very quickly were swept away by Javi’s younger family members, the teenage girls elated to have another woman in the family given that it seemed to be a male dominated one.

“So,” Gina, a fifteen year old cousin of Javi’s on his mother’s side, started. “When are you and Javi getting married?”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” you chuckled. Gina looked at you appalled before looking at the three other girls at your table. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—I just mean—you know—some people are happy enough without getting married.”

“My mom would kill me if I didn’t get married,” Irene, a twelve year old cousin, chimed in with a shake of her head. “Wouldn’t your mom want you to get married?”

“Probably,” you chuckled. “But part of being a grown up means I don’t have to listen to what she wants.”

The girls shared a look as though they were having a revelation.

“Hola, mija,” Chucho appeared from behind you, his hand patting your shoulder as he stood by your chair. “These three getting all the chisme about you and Javi?”

“Chisme?” you asked.

“Gossip,” he replied with a smile before looking to his nieces. “You’re treating her nice, right? I wouldn’t want to have to go tell on you to your mothers—“

“Cálmate, tío,” Gina chuckled. “We were just asking about her and Javi getting married.”

“Oh?” Chucho turned to you with a hopeful smile, making you laugh as you shook your head at him. “What, you don’t want to be a Peña?”

“Can you all leave her alone?” Javi came over with two beers, smiling as he sat down in the empty seat beside you and placed your drink down.

“They’re peer pressuring me,” you informed, making the girls giggle.

“Oh yeah, about what?”

“About getting married to you.” Javi choked on his beer, his reaction pulling a hearty laugh from his father as he sat down beside his son.

“Gina, this is all you, I bet.” Javi looked to his cousin with playfully narrowed eyes.

“You don’t care about getting married?” she asked with a sassy bob of her head.

“No,” he replied, mimicking her attitude.

“Well I do,” Irene chimed in.

“You’re too young to be thinking about marriage,” he countered. “Think about school.”

“School sucks,” Gina said, scrunching her nose.

“School gets you money,” he replied. “Money’ll treat you better than any of these boys around here.”

“Not Jorge,” she countered.

“Who’s Jorge?” Chucho and Javi asked in unison, their protective streak making an appearance.

You smiled as you watched their back and forth, your eyes glued to Javi’s profile as he kept the argument playful, this side of him so rarely brought out. Reaching your hand over to his leg, you gave him a squeeze, unintentionally bringing his eyes to yours. He tilted his head at you and gave you a smitten smile before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You having a good time?” he asked, whispering into your ear. You nodded sincerely and lifted your hand to rub over his back through the red flannel he was wearing. “You wanna dance?”

You chuckled at the idea of Javi getting on the dance floor but agreed nonetheless. Excusing yourself, you made it out onto the dance floor in time for the DJ to switch to a slow song, “You Look So Good In Love” by George Strait playing through the speakers.

“I didn’t know you were so light on your feet,” you murmured into his ear as he held you close, swaying you around the dance floor. Javi chuckled into your ear before pressing a kiss there, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“I come full of surprises, bebita,” he whispered back. “Thank you for coming here with me. I know my family—“

“Is wonderful,” you interrupted. “They’re full of life and attitude and fun. They’re real. The total opposite of my family.”

“Speaking of…when do I get to meet the rest of them? I know your mom and dad aren’t fans, but your little sister could be.”

“Funny you bring it up. She called me a couple days ago asking to come visit.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her I’d talk to you about it.” Lifting your head off his shoulder, you looked up at him with a smile. “Would you be alright with that?”

“Bebita,” he tilted his head and chuckled. “Of course I’m alright with that. I wanna meet the only family member you claim.”

You laughed and nodded before resting your head on his shoulder again.

“I’ll let her know she can come down in a few weeks. After Mickey and I come back from our trip.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Your dream vacation to Dallas fucking Texas.”

“Scared I’m gonna meet a cowboy and run off?”

“Scared you’re plotting something,” he mumbled against the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. You swallowed your guilt over lying and remained silent. “Mm, no response isn’t a good response.”

“Javi,” you chuckled. “There’s no plotting. It was all Mickey’s idea, I’m just going along to have some fun.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, skepticism thick in his tone. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

Back at Chucho’s house, the three of you sat in the backyard around a fire, McCartney fast asleep inside on the couch now that Chucho had been charmed enough by the pup to let him on the furniture.

“How’s working together going now that you’re on Javi’s service again?” Chucho asked from across the fire.

“She’s loving it,” Javi interjected, giving you a smirk.

“Is that right?”

“I’m not sure I’d go as far as saying I’m loving it—“ You returned a smirk and an eye roll to your boyfriend. “Javi’s really loving giving me all of the work he doesn’t want to do.”

“Javi,” Chucho feigned disapproval and shook his head at his son.

“You’re the only one I trust not to fuck shit up,” he said, looking over at you with more love than you ever saw in his eyes before. The wedding and you meeting his extended family for the first time must’ve had him feeling extra romantic, it surely was making you feel that way, at least. Blushing, you smiled down at your nearly empty beer bottle and swirled the liquid around, your mind already spinning with thoughts of getting your hands on him, desperate to show him just how glad you were to be this close to him—to be the only one he trusted not to “fuck shit up”.

“Well kids, I think it’s time for this old man to go on to bed,” Chucho stood up with a grunt and hobbled over to the patio door, wishing the two of you goodnight before disappearing into the house.

“Only one you trust not to fuck shit up, huh?” You lifted your eyes to his with a grin on your face, finding him already looking at you with a lazy but adoring smile.

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “With everything.”

You bit your lip, your smile creeping up to your eyes as the two of you entered a stare off, each eager to see which one of you would break first.

“You look good right now, bebita,” Javi husked, his eyes scanning down your frame, admiring the way you looked in his hoodie, before lifting again.

“Yeah?” you purred, enjoying the lust in his eyes.

“You gonna make me beg for it, baby?” he asked, low and sultry, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You know I hate begging.”

“You always beg for me when I ask you to,” you countered. Javi’s dimple made an appearance as he chuckled.

“Yeah, I do.” Javi took the final swig of his beer and set it down on the dirt beside his chair before sitting up and walking over to you. You looked up at him as he bent down to hover his lips over yours, his left hand cradling your jaw. “I wanna taste you so bad, bebita. Please let me have a taste.”

“Love it when you beg,” you purred, pulling him down for a real kiss, one that had him almost tipping you back in your patio chair from the force of it. “Inside.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, helping you into your feet and giving your ass a swat as you jogged to the sliding glass door. Javier was so excited as he followed you through the dining and living room to the stairs that he banged his knee on a side table, a yelp of pain sounding out in the otherwise silent home.

“Shh, careful,” you scolded in a giggled whisper. “You’re gonna wake your dad up.”

“My dad sleeps like a rock,” he said, limping towards you as you stood at the bottom of the stairs. With his hands on your waist, he leaned in to bury his face in your neck, pressing a kiss there. “Go on, baby. Let me take in the view.”

“Oh, the view of my ass in your sweatpants? I think you’ll be disappointed.”

“Given that I’ve been staring at it all night, I disagree,” he smirked, tapping your ass again. “Go on.”

You grinned from over your shoulder as you ascended the staircase while he stood there watching, his eyes glued to the exaggerated sway of your hips. With a laugh, you stuck it out for him at the top of the stairs and gasped as you heard him not so quietly running up to chase you into his bedroom. His arms wrapped around your waist in front of his door, your giggles fading into soft hums of contentment as he used one hand to hold you to him and the other to open the door, his face buried in the nook of your neck.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your pulse. You spun around in his arms as he continued walking you to the foot of his bed, your arms crossing around his neck. With a smile, you studied him for a moment. His lidded eyes, his uncombed hair, the way his flannel had become unbuttoned at the top over the course of the night. You admired the pink of his lips, parted as he watched you watch him, and the patchy beard he’d grown at your request.

“I love you, Jav,” you whispered, eyes lifting to meet his dark and deep ones. “But I don’t want you to fuck me like you love me tonight.”

“No?” he grinned, leaning in to tickle your neck with his beard. “What do you want me to fuck you like, then, bebita?”

“Like a whore,” you whispered into his ear, earning a groan from somewhere deep in his chest. Javi bit into your neck and gripped your hips so hard you’d have to check for marks in the morning, tugging a whine from you. His tongue soothed the mark on your pulse with his tongue before dragging it up to nip at your earlobe, your arms covered with chills from the greedy attention of his mouth.

“I want the taste you promised me,” he husked, raspy and deep. “But I also want to feel your lips around me.”

“We can make that happen.” Javi pulled back with a devilish grin and let his lust-drunk eyes settle on yours as you reached for the button on his jeans, a reverent held in his almost-black irises. Javi’s eyes fell to watch as you pulled him out of his jeans and pumped him in your palm until he was fully hard.

“Fuck,” he moaned, looking back into your eyes. “Take your clothes off, bebita.”

You obeyed immediately, shedding your layers while Javi shimmined out of his jeans and flannel. Positioning himself flat on his back in the middle of his bed, he flashed a grin your way and beckoned you closer with his finger. You left a trail of kisses along his legs, his stomach, his chest, until you reached his lips, a smile wide on yours as you leaned down to take his bottom lip between your teeth. Javi hissed and gripped your hips, pulling your cunt down to rest against his heavy length until you were hissing too.

“You fucking own me, bebita,” he growled, leaving a love bite on your chin. “You know that?”

“Maybe I need a little reminding,” you purred, pecking his lips one more time before turning around and lowering your cunt over his mouth. Javi hummed as he laid beneath you, tugging you down until you were flush against his mouth, your hips rocking to feel his flattened tongue beneath you. “Fuck, we should do this more.”

Javi’s response was too mumbled, but judging from the way he drank you down like a man starving, you assumed he agreed. Leaning over his body, you gripped his heavy length in your hand, pumping him up and down until a few beads of arousal gathered at his tip. With a smile, you leaned in to taste him, Javi’s hips thrusting upwards at the contact.

“You want my tongue?” you asked teasingly.

“Please,” he managed from beneath you. Grinning, you kissed his hip before moving back to his cock, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking. “Fuck yes.”

You tasted each other in unison, his tongue and lips worked you higher and higher as you aimed to keep him on the edge with your own. On shaking thighs, you rode his face without inhibition, his groans into your core only spurring you on.

“Javi, I’m gonna—“

“Uh-uh.” Javi pushed you forward and guided your hips to hover over his cock. “Cum on it.”

With a moan, you gripped his cock and held it still as you sat down on him in reverse cowgirl, Javi’s hands gripping the globes of your ass as you sank all the way down.

“Fuck,” you panted, your hands gripping his thighs as you allowed yourself to adjust to his size. Javi didn’t give you much of a break, though, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you up and down his cock. “Jav—so deep. Shit.”

“Yeah it is, baby,” he husked, and without seeing him, you could hear the smirk on his face. “Taking me so fucking well.”

“Feels so good like this,” you mewled, dropping your knees to the mattress once your legs grew tired of squatting. Leaning forward to lay over his legs, Javi continued to guide your ass up and down his length, using you like a toy. “Javi—shit.”

You were soaked, you could feel the evidence of it every time he slammed you down onto his cock, the wet squelch sounding extra vulgar in the silence of the night.

“Baby, fuck,” he whined, squeezing your ass hard enough to leave marks.

Without warning, Javi pulled you off his cock so that he could scramble to his knees, keeping his chest pressed tightly to your back as he sat you on his lap. You whined at the deep spot he was hitting at this angle and leaned your head back against his collarbone. Javi speared up into you enough to make your breasts bounce, his hand finding its way down the front of your body to your clit, stroking over it in circles.

“I’m gonna cum soon, baby,” he warned, pressing his lips to your cheek as you tried to keep your moans quiet. “Need you to cum for me.”

“Please,” you whispered, gripping his arm as it rested across your chest to keep you close to his frame.

Javi groaned and continued rocking in and out of you in time with his fingers stroking your clit until the dam finally burst.

“Jav—“ You lifted your hand to cover your mouth as you cried out his name, bending forward as your body shook. Javi wasn’t far behind you, his hips fucking you into the mattress until he was spilling deep. He left a soft, gentle kisses all over the heated skin of your shoulders as his heart pounded against you. “That was good.”

“Better than good,” he rasped, lifting his weight off you and pulling out with a hiss.

You watched him get up and walk butt naked into the en-suite to grab a washcloth. He dampened it and carried it over to you, allowing you to pluck it from his hands and clean yourself even though he would’ve gladly done it himself. Instead, he came to lay beside you, kissing every inch of skin he could find as his hands traversed your curves.

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Lucky,” Javi whispered, the moon lighting up the side of his face as you turned to look him in the eye. “I don’t care how we do it, I just…want to do it.”

You smiled, a warmth that you’d only ever felt with him washing over you as you tossed the washcloth into the hamper in the corner of the room and rolled over to lay on his chest.

“I want that too, Javi,” you whispered. “Only with you.”

It finally was the day of your departure for Mickey’s surgery, Javi trusting you with the Audi and his heart as he hugged you goodbye in the driveway.

“Please be safe,” he mumbled against your temple. “Don’t let the terminally ill pregnant woman peer pressure you into anything too wild.”

You laughed and nodded, pulling back enough to hold his face in your hands and look him in the eye. “I promise to be safe.”

“I love you, Lucky,” he whispered, leaning in for a tender kiss. “Me and McCartney are gonna be sick missing you.”

“Promise me you won’t sit inside all weekend sulking.” Javi looked away guiltily, bringing a grin to your face. “Javi. Call up Steve or something. Go play poker with the Chief.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll ask Steve to go to breakfast tomorrow.”

“There ya go!” You leaned up to press another kiss to his lips before looking back at the car where Mickey already sat, waiting patiently. “We should get on the road before it gets dark.”

“Okay,” he nodded, still pouring a bit as he walked you to the car. “Call me when you get settled?”

“I promise.” With a pinch of his chin, you sank down into the driver’s seat and let him come down for one more kiss as he shut the door for you. “Love you.”

“Love you, Lucky,” he turned to Mickey and gave her a friendly smile and a nod. “Have fun, you two.”

Closing the door and tapping the roof of the car, Javi stepped back into the house, your heart following him.

“Alright,” you exhaled, turning to Mickey as you backed out of the driveway. “Ready?”

“Are you ready?” she asked, smirking at you. “Don’t wanna suck his dick one more time before we head out?”

“Already did before you got here,” you quipped.

“What are you gonna tell him? I mean, eventually he’s gonna find out the real reason.”

“Yes, but by then you’ll have already been saved. So not much room for argument,” you assured, though worry swirled in your gut.

“If I get saved,” she corrected.

“Mick, if you’re not certain about this—“

“No, no,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I am sure. I just…love being negative.”

“I’ve gathered that.” Smiling, you reached over and patted her knee. “It’s gonna go fine, Mick.”

“You really believe that?” she asked, looking at you like she was begging. Even though you were sick with worry over it, how could you look her in the eye and tell her that?

“Yeah. I do.”

•

•

•

•

•

[thatseventiesbitch]

Fictober 5 - "It's a new day, let's go"

"Come on, Leia. We're gonna be late to homeroom again." Nikki impatiently shoved at Leia's backpack, as if she could move her along faster.

But the smaller girl's chunky Doc Martens dragged along the sidewalk, resistant. Nikki dropped her arms, exasperated, and headed off to the upperclassmen entrance. The others gathered around Leia.

"I can't go in there again," Leia moaned. She nodded at Point Place High School, looming ahead of them. "Not after what happened yesterday."

Ozzie sucked on his upper teeth. "It was pretty embarrassing," he agreed.

"I slipped on a banana peel in front of the entire cafeteria. A banana peel. What am I, a cartoon?"

"You sound like a cartoon," Ozzie muttered under his breath.

"Oh, gee willikers!" Leia exclaimed. They'd reached the entrance way of the school, and a large insect scuttled away from their feet. "That's the biggest roach I've ever seen!"

“The biggest roach you’ve seen yet,” Gwen pointed out. “There are some pretty gnarly ones in the locker rooms. Welcome to public school, Leia!”Gwen grinned, and threw her arm around Leia's shoulders.

Leia shuddered. There weren't many things she missed about the private, Catholic school her parents sent her to in Chicago - not the nuns, or the uniforms, or the daily mass. But she did miss being in a place she understood, a place where she knew the rules of the game. This was a world where everything was new to her. At least she had her friends here to show her the ropes.

"Leia!"

She perked up when she heard his voice. That was one other, important thing that was here. Her boyfriend.

Jay bounded up to the gang, knocking Gwen's arm off Leia's shoulder so he could hold her instead. Gwen threw him a nasty glare.

"Wanna walk to homeroom with our hands in each other's back pockets?"

Leia gazed at Jay dreamily. Hearts were practically popping from her eyes. They both missed Gwen's eye roll.

"Yeah," she breathed.

They wrapped their arms around each other and started to walk towards Mrs. Buchinski's room, but a horde of jocks swarmed them before they got too far.

"Hey look," one laughed. He was pointing at Leia. "It's banana split!" The other boys all roared in approval. Leia blushed.

"Oh, get killed Greg." Gwen slammed into Greg, shoulder checking him easily into a locker. His cronies chuckled nervously. "It would do us all a favor," she snarled.

Greg fixed his preppy clothing, popping his shirt collar pointedly at Gwen. Then he jerked his chin at Jay.

"She's dating you?" Greg smirked. "Can't say I'm surprised." He nodded to one of his cronies. "How many times has Klumsy Kelso fallen off the water tower, again?"

"Gotta be at least a dozen."

"Actually, it's sixteen times." Jay responded just as coldly, his jaw set. "That's a Point Place record."

"Jay - " Leia tugged at his arm. "Let's just go."

"Try not to trip on anything on your way to class!" Greg called after them. The other students in the hallway snickered.

"Try not to cry too much about your mom's pill addiction, Greg!" Gwen retaliated, causing an 'oooooh' to ripple through the hallway. They tore away.

"You can't show them any weakness, Leia," Gwen coached. "It's a dog-eat-dog world out here." Jay and Ozzie nodded along.

Leia's face contorted in fear. "Don't show my weakness? Gwen, I'm all weakness!"

"Like a little bunny," Ozzie agreed, shaking his head sympathetically.

They'd reached the door to Leia and Jay's homeroom. Gwen grabbed Leia by the shoulders assertively.

"Oh, no you're not." She shook Leia roughly. "Show me the Leia who blackmailed Mama into giving us the tap."

Jay joined in. "Yeah. Show me the Leia who intimidated Party Animal into signing Nate's belt."

Gwen tapped the center of Leia's forehead. "Show me the Leia who convinced her mom to let her stay here. Twice."

Her friends' words were working. Leia felt her self-confidence growing. "You really think I can do this?" she checked, her eyes flickering hopefully to Gwen's. "You really think it will be okay, that they won't laugh at me?"

Gwen returned her eager look with a smirk.

"Oh, I didn't say they're not going to laugh at you." She patted her best friend's shoulder. "I just said you can handle it."

Leia wavered. "B-but yesterday - "

"It's a new day, Leia. Let's go."

Jay's hand slid through hers, and somehow, she felt ready for anything.

[odinsblog]

“How about, for balance, encouraging Putin to have the courage to withdraw his army from Ukraine?” Polish Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski wrote on X. “Peace would immediately ensue without the need for negotiations.”

Leaders in Ukraine vehemently rejected Pope Francis’s suggestion of negotiations with Russia to bring an end to the war — his use of the words “white flag” drawing particular scorn — reiterating that the country would never surrender.

In a recent interview, Francis used the term “white flag,” repeating the words of a journalist, which some read as a call to surrender.

President Volodymyr Zelensky responded to the pope without naming him in his nightly address Sunday.

Praising Ukrainian chaplains on the front line, Zelensky said: “This is what the church is — it is together with people, not two and a half thousand kilometers away somewhere, virtually mediating between someone who wants to live and someone who wants to destroy you.”

Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba urged the Vatican to support the Ukrainian people “in their just struggle for their lives,” writing: “Our flag is blue and yellow. Under it, we live, die, and triumph. We will not raise any other flags.” He thanked Francis for his prayers for peace and urged him to visit Ukraine.

The pope’s remarks were made in an interview with Swiss broadcaster Radio Télévision Suisse, recorded in February, part of which was released Saturday. The full interview is set to air March 20.

According to a transcript translated and shared by the Vatican news agency, interviewer Lorenzo Buccella asked Francis: “In Ukraine, some call for the courage of surrender, of the white flag. But others say that this would legitimize the stronger party. What do you think?”

Francis responded by saying that, in his opinion, the stronger side is the one “who has the courage of the white flag, to negotiate.”

The controversy prompted a clarification from the Vatican.

“The Pope uses the term white flag, and responds by picking up the image proposed by the interviewer, to indicate a cessation of hostilities, a truce reached with the courage of negotiation,” spokesman Matteo Bruni said in a statement, adding that the Pope stated that negotiations are never a “surrender.”

Though he has often condemned the war in Ukraine, Francis has provoked debate within the church over whether his messaging on the conflict has been too cautious and too focused on maintaining ties with the Russian Orthodox Church. His supporters argue that maintaining neutrality has long been at the center of Holy See diplomacy.

In May 2023, after his first private meeting with Francis following the outbreak of war, Zelensky said any peace formula “must be Ukrainian” and any role of the Vatican must be in service to Ukraine’s peace formula.

Ukrainian church leaders and Ukraine’s allies, too, pushed back against the pope’s latest remarks.

Sviatoslav Shevchuk, the head of Ukraine’s Greek Catholic Church, told a prayer gathering in New York that no one in Ukraine “even thinks of surrendering,” the same day that part of the interview was released. A later statement by church leaders said they would not “dwell” on the pope’s remarks and instead emphasized that Ukraine is a victim of Russia’s aggression.

“How about, for balance, encouraging Putin to have the courage to withdraw his army from Ukraine?” Polish Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski wrote on X. “Peace would immediately ensue without the need for negotiations.”

(continue reading)

[thewitchfarhan]

Why are you reblogging from evilios? Do you know that they’re a zeus apologist, right? 💀💀💀

I'm going to preface this by saying this is going to be a *MONSTER* of a post, so be warned - it's gonna be long.

TLDR: “But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.”

Hi anon - thank you for your inquiry. This is actually something I have been pondering for a bit and I feel ready to express my feelings around this issue.

To start - I am *very* new to the Hellenic Pagan community. While I have been a practicing Witch and Pagan for about 10 years - Hellenic Paganism is not a practice I have worked with/within prior to 2023.

Additionally - I make a point to not pass judgment on a spiritual belief or path before researching it from a third-party point of view, and examining the historical documentation available (as opposed to just taking into account UPG).

With that being said - my feelings toward Zeus as a deity/spiritual entity are negative (as you can see below from a previous post I made).

A good portion of the myths about Zeus that I am familiar with have heavy themes that center around male entitlement, assault, r*pe, and misogyny. All of which are not only morally reprehensible - but also somewhat triggering for me as someone who grew up Catholic.

I have seen individuals say that you have to take into account the “historical context” in which myth and religious texts are written. I have seen individuals say things along the line of “These myths were written by misogynistic men so they projected their own values and beliefs onto Zeus, that’s now who Zeus really is!”

[I'm going to use the anon above as an example because their thoughts and sentiments are ones I see often from Zeus Devotees / Zeus Worshipers]

I’m not in the business of trying to tell others what to believe - not because I think all beliefs are valid - but because I know it’s pointless.

However, if you are going to use Greek Myths as the source material for your religious practice - then it would be more logical to compare these myths - not to Paradise Lost - but to the Bible.

So, if Greek Myths (the basis of Hellenic Paganism) are symbolic and not to be taken literally - then prey tell where are you getting your canonical information from? Which religious texts *are* to be taken literally?

The bottom line, and answer to this quandary, is this:

All religion is invented. All religion is made up. All religion was created by humanity.

Cows and Crows don’t have religion. They do not build altars or shrines. They do follow religious codes. They do not worship or name divinity.

We can trace a before and after period for every religion's existence. There is not one religion that has existed from the dawn of time (and if anyone claims such they’re lying because humanity evolved from other species who definitely did not have any concept of ‘religion’).

So, with that being said, if you aren’t part of an organized religion/coven/cult - then you have two options.

1. Interpret all holy and traditional texts as literal and abide by their ever moral, rule, and decision within your personal practice.

Or

2. Acknowledge that you are picking and choosing what you believe to fit your own moral and personal narrative. Admit that you are making up your own personal gnosis and acknowledge that any judgment of your personal practice is also a judgment of your person. Admit that if you aren’t taking source material literally (which is a totally fine thing to do) you are inventing your own religious gnosis.

Want to worship Zeus and ignore all myths that portray him as a r*pist? Go ahead! I have no issue with you. Just don't try to somehow make those myths "valid" or "just symbolic" - just admit what you're doing and move on.

Because if you’re going to go around saying “Oh this historical information is valid but the other one isn’t and shouldn’t be judged from a modern lens!” then congratulations! I’m going to view your practice through the same lens as those who praise the Christian God as an all-loving entity and ignore the fact that (according to the story of Noah’s Ark in the Bible) he murdered every single adult and child on planet Earth, aside from a chosen few.

At the end of the day - do what you want. I don’t have any authority to stop you and I’m not gonna fight with you. But if you want my personal opinion on Zeus worship it is this:

Zeus, for me, is categorically defined by his actions. While there are many stories of SA and Abuse in Greek Mythology, Zeus as King of the Gods takes the cake. Not only because of the sheer number of stories that center around him committing acts of SA - but also because as the King of the Gods, he should be held to a higher standard.

Since I am not part of an organized religion/coven/cult - I get to choose how I interact with spirituality, and for me, that includes judging it through a modern lens.

I chose to not ignore the myths that portray Zeus in a negative light because I think the sheer number of those myths defines Zeus' character and what he represented in ancient times.

But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.

Feel free to send any follow-up questions, I could talk about this shit for days.

[denim-mixtapes]

Aren't We All Sinners? - Vol. I: The Good Girl's Guide to Secular Music

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Summer 1991, you're home from college and questioning everything you were raised to believe by your preacher father. When another fight leads to you storming out of the house and driving aimlessly, you stumble upon a record shop and a man who would change life as you know it for good. -- OR -- Eddie Munson teaches you that there's more to music than praising Jesus. Warnings: WHOLE SERIES 18+ ONLY! For this chapter, only adult language and a bit of Eddie being a perv. More warnings to come as they become relevant.

[Series Masterlist] [Mixtape Playlist]

It’s a tough pill to swallow, the first summer home after going away to college. The bittersweet sting of dry, over-conditioned air and watchful eye of strict parents after your first real taste of freedom. 

Coming out of your shell at university took some time. Nineteen, fresh off of two years at the local catholic junior college and a lifetime of lectures from your preacher father, you swore you wouldn’t make any waves, you were just there to get an education and that was it. What you didn’t expect was that out there, out from under your parents shadow and influence, you would be exposed to all sorts of walks of life. You found friends in people you never would have expected – or even had the chance to meet had your parents had any say – and your randomly assigned roommate challenged your beliefs and pushed your buttons in a way for which you could never thank her enough. But as soon as your guard started to drop the school year was over and you were shuttled back home to curfews and modesty and God-centered TV programming.

Now, it’s the summer of 1991 and you’re questioning more than ever. Your parents' expectations stick on you just as much as your clothing in the humid Indiana air and every ounce of freedom you tasted at school has been ripped away, landing you back in church four days a week and cooped up at home the remainder of your free time. It’s enough to drive anyone to madness. So when a childhood youth group friend invites you to lunch the next day after Sunday Service you’re thrilled for an excuse to leave the house, hopeful for some sense of normalcy in this newly foreign town. 

That hope dies the second you bound down the stairs on Monday afternoon. 

A tired grumble comes from your father behind the wall of the newspaper he’s reading. “Ain’t no way you’re leaving the house like that.” You aren’t even really sure how he saw you from behind it, but stop in your tracks nonetheless. “Go upstairs and put on something more respectable.” 

“I-I’m just going to meet up with Janie,” you stutter, pulling the frayed hem of your denim shorts down as far as they’ll go. The garment had been a gift from your roommate, one of her many hand-me-downs that she passed on to you when you tried to go to a party with her wearing a turtleneck and midi skirt. “I don’t need to be in church clothes.” 

The corner of the paper folds down, one bushy eyebrow raising at your defiance. “Did I say church clothes?” You want to protest, you want to brush past and just run out the door, but the pout on your lips and slump in your posture earns you another stern warning. “I won’t tell you again, young lady. When you go anywhere outside of this home, you represent the church and our parish, so I don’t care if you’re going to the mall or the Met, you will be covering more skin than that.” 

You respond with a stomp on the bottom step, much more childish than you’re known to be, but if he’s going to treat you like a child you may as well get to act like one. From the kitchen, your mother calls out to listen to your father without so much as a glance at either of you. 

Back up the stairs, bedroom door slamming behind you, you shimmy out of the shorts and into a knee length, fluttery skirt and pantyhose. It’s soft contrasted against your hardened, angry features and billows behind you as you descend the stairs again, not even bothering to hear what either of them have to say before you slam yet another door behind you. 

In your car you take out your anger on the radio, punching at the buttons and silently willing any station to come in, but the antenna has been broken on the God forsaken thing since you bought it, so you give up and opt for shoving the only tape you own into the cassette player. From crackling speakers Rich Mullins croons about how awesome God is, the words settling uncomfortably in your ears, and you slap the eject button just as quickly as you put the tape in. The rest of the drive is shrouded in silence except the engine rumbling under the hood and wind whipping in from open windows. 

The drive is aimless. You know where you should be headed, but with your mood already soured the last thing you want to do is sit through shallow small talk and hang on the nostalgia of Church Camp memories. Janie is a sweet girl, though, and she doesn’t deserve to get stood up, so at the sight of a payphone you pull over and pray that she hasn’t left home yet. 

“Hello, Peterson residence, this is Janie,” she answers, bubbly and polite as ever, on the third ring. 

“Hey, Jane,” you say, voice tight and tired, and identify yourself. 

“Well hi, stranger!” She says, south Georgia twang and sweetness still saturate her voice even after 12 years in Indiana. “I was just headin’ out to meet you!”

“That’s why I was ringing, actually. I think I might have to take a rain check.” 

“Oh no! You feelin’ okay?”

You sigh into the phone, guilt already setting in at the worry in her voice. “Yeah, Janie, I’m fine. I just- the heat’s getting to me and I’m in a foul mood–” neither untrue. The telephone booth is steaming up from your humid breath, sweat beading along your hairline. “– and I don’t think I’d be very good company.”

Her hesitance is clear, but she relents. “Well, I doubt that, but… if you’re sure.”

Making quick work to end the phone call, you’re blessed by a light breeze when you step out of the booth. Feeling the heat trapped under your skirt, you roll the waistband twice to feel more of the breeze on the tacky skin behind your knees and weigh your options. 

It’s hot, and you’re heated. The best option objectively is to head home and enjoy the air conditioning, or maybe take a dip in the pool, but the thought of facing your parents again without any time to calm the storm in your head is more unbearable than the sun beating down on your shoulders, so you get back into your car with a huff and decide to just drive. 

Approaching the edge of town, right when you’re thinking about turning back, you come across a strip mall you can’t recall ever seeing. Surely it’s been here some time with its crumbling brickwork and missing shingles, but growing up you didn’t venture too far outside your neighborhood or that of your father’s church, so this side of town is unfamiliar to you. 

Gravel crunches under your tires as you pull to a stop under a darkened streetlamp and look around. Nothing stands out too much as you wander the sidewalk storefronts. Nothing until Camelot Music. 

Bright white glittering letters hang above the doorway boasting the store’s name, and the bulbs behind the ‘t’ flicker with age. The front door is propped open with a sizable rock, a heavy, thrumming bassline inviting you in to curiously peer at the shelves lined with colorful record sleeves and bright signage. At the very least you can get some new tapes for your car, then this excursion could be considered a success. 

The song changes as you step into the store, an impressive, tinny guitar solo opening up the song. It’s good, not something you’ve heard before but you can’t help but nod your head along as you browse the shelves. You see artists your friends have tried to introduce you to and thumb across the covers, but none of them stand out. Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Culture CLub, they were all definitely better than the worship music you’re made to listen to at home, but none of them sat with you as well as the song that’s playing over the store’s sound system. 

From the moment you enter his store, Eddie is captivated. Spine straightened and brow lifted with interest. The scent of your perfume came wafting in with the wind, something sweet and fruity and oh, so enticing. 

He doesn’t jump into customer service mode just yet, instead choosing to observe, see what artists you approach. See if you’re sure of your direction before he comes on too strong. 

Watching you wander through what he likes to call the ‘cookie cutter aisle,’ his eyes are drawn to the movement of your skirt, the hem brushing at the soft skin just above your knees, the tension in your calves when you tiptoe to read the titles on the top shelf, the anxious fiddling with the gold pendant on your neck, though he can’t see what it is with his distance. 

He has to get closer. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” A voice from behind startles you. 

Instinctively, your hand goes to the crucifix on your neck, clutching it comfortingly as you jump and turn to face the sole employee of the store. 

All signs point to danger with this man. Long, dark, unruly hair hangs in his face as he leans toward you, a hand on the wall beside your head and a smirk on his lips. Snug, ripped jeans and tee shirt with a devil on it cling to his frame, no sign of a uniform except for the name tag that reads ‘Eddie the Banished’ and he’s weighed down with silver. Countless heavy rings and chains adorn him, a stud through his eyebrow and a hoop in the opposite nostril. Ink stains most of the skin you can see. He looks like mischief personified, but he’s looking at you with the biggest, softest brown eyes and his expression softens when he notices your tension. You swear you can see his eyes fall to your chest, but when you smooth the cross back into your skin and drop your hand, those round eyes flick back up to yours. 

“Oh, uh,” you stammer, then point toward the ceiling. “Yeah, actually. Who is this? I really like it.” 

Shock paints his features, his brows shooting up with amusement and he laughs. “What kind of a rock do you live under?” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug, your arms wrapping around your middle defensively. “It’s Guns N’ Roses, here,” he beckons you down the aisle, past a few genres, and stops in front of a sign marked Hard Rock. You follow his gaze as he scans the shelf before finding the tape in question, plucking it off of the rack and pressing it into your hands. “Appetite for Destruction, their debut album. Sweet Child O’ Mine is the song on now, but the whole record is pretty fuckin’ good.” 

Eddie takes note of the way that you flinch at his swear, but still offer him a smile in thanks, and banks it in his memory alongside all of the other things about you that drew him in. The gold crucifix that rests against your collar. The bruise on your thigh that he shouldn’t be seeing, but he is, because your waistband is rolled and bunched up, shortening the skirt. The way your chest heaves rapidly, the way he can practically see your anxious pulse in the vein running up your neck. The tiny dart of your tongue as you wet your lips nervously. 

You’re a total stranger, a ship passing through, and he wants to ruin you.

“Cool,” you mumble, looking away from his stare and at the shelf of tapes. “Do you have any other suggestions that are similar?” 

A ring clad hand comes to rest on his chin as he thinks, a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “I could come up with a ton for you if you give me some time to think, but off the top of my head...oh!” He snatches another title off of the wall and hands it over, “Mötley Crüe. I’d recommend anything of theirs but this is their best album to date.” 

You look down at the cassette in hand, bold, red letters titling the album Shout at the Devil. You have half a mind to put that one back, already hearing your father’s claims of devil worship and sin swimming around in your head, but ultimately decide to just go for it. You nod to the man, Eddie, in appreciation and brush past him toward the counter. 

He prays you don’t feel his eyes on your backside, or the skin exposed by a run in your stockings and the way the material cuts into your skin, making a little roll that he can’t stop thinking about sinking his teeth into. He stands back, distracted, until you reach the counter and turn his way again and he hurries to join you behind the register. 

Register beeping as he types in your items, he asks, “So why the sudden interest in rock, hmm?” He prompts, bagging your items and pushing them toward you. You hand the cash over and he continues, “Wham! just not doing it for ya anymore?” 

“I don’t…know who that is,” you admit sheepishly, savoring the laugh it draws from him, even if it was at your expense. “No, um, actually, hold on.” Digging in the bag, you open both tapes and peel the paper from inside the cover, shoving the crumpled cardboard across the counter. Eddie stares on, appalled that you would deface these albums so quickly.  “Can you throw that away for me? My parents will lose their minds if they see that I’m listening to anything other than worship music. That’s…why I don’t know anything about music. I’m not technically allowed to listen to secular music.” The man before you pales as you speak, straightening his posture from the flirtatious lean he had on the counter to a cautious, respectable distance. He may be a horndog…some may even go so far as to call him a pervert, but he’s not about to put the moves on a fuckin’ teenager. As you continue ranting, however, his internal monologue heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s like – I’m 20 years old for Pete’s sake. I could be living across the God forsaken country if I wanted to, but because they’re paying for my college and I’m under their roof, it’s like they think they can control my every move like a child.”

As you complain, he studies your face. The rosy, heated hue to your cheeks, the heaving of your chest as you get more and more worked up, the way your hands flutter around your face as you rant. The smirk from before takes over his face again as he leans his elbows on the counter, and you feel yourself shrink under his scrutiny. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking the bag from the counter. “You didn’t need to know all of that. It’s just…frustrating.” 

Christ, he wants to bite the pout that rests on your lips. Shaking the thought from his head, he says, “no worries. Listen, if you want more recommendations I’m happy to help. Music is kind of my thing.” 

You study those big, brown eyes cautiously, and you’re met with an intriguing cocktail of promise, sincerity, and a little bit of a warning. It’s a surprise to both of you when you nod. “Yeah, okay, thanks.” 

“Great,” he grins, waving as you back up toward the door. “Give those a listen and tell me what you think, I’ll have more for you next time you’re in.” 

You spend the rest of the evening driving around Hawkins. Wind from the open windows whips your hair around your face, lip gloss staining the straw to your coke. Accompanied by the hum of cicadas, Axl Rose serenades you through fuzzy speakers, bringing goosebumps to your skin. 

When you pull into your driveway, the sunset has painted sherbert tones across the sky, and you sit and wait for the track to end before stashing the tapes in your glove box and heading inside. 

Not even the scolding from your mother for returning home after sundown can bring you down from the floaty mood you’re in.

On your next visit you’re eager to tell him your thoughts on both albums, and he presents you with Led Zeppelin IV. “An oldie but a goodie,” he claims, pressing the plastic into your hands and then guiding your fingers closed around it with his own.

You’re back every few days, always discarding the packaging as soon as you make your purchase, always strutting around the store in those damn skirts and knee socks, soft pink and off white tops and shiny lip gloss, innocence and purity and daring him to steal a glance at parts of you he shouldn’t. Eventually, Eddie starts inviting you to stay and listen in store, instead of spending all your money. It’s not a great business tactic, but he loves the idea of you coming around more often and staying longer, and he loves getting to see the blissed out look on your face when you’re enjoying his selection of the day even more. Besides, you always end up buying at least one new album for yourself every visit anyway. So now you spend your afternoons on the little wooden stool behind the Camelot Music counter, feet kicking back and forth beneath you, making small talk and getting a heavy metal education from Eddie Munson. In between albums he inquires about your upbringing, usually through shock that you don’t know 90% of the musicians he references. He teases you for your aversion to swearing, and promises that one of these days he’ll get you to say ‘fuck.’ You inquire on the meaning behind his tattoos. Sometimes there is one, sometimes the meaning is that he had extra money and thought it looked cool. For the most part, though, you just listen to music together and talk about the parts you liked and the parts you didn’t care so much for, passing smiles across the counter and between stacks of tapes.

On your sixth visit, he sends you on your way with his own personal collection of Black Sabbath tapes, his top 3 favorites, claiming that they mean more because they were borrowed. You’re about to walk out of the store when he stops you with a hand on your forearm. 

“So, these guys are a little heavier than what I’ve been giving you, but I know you can handle it,” his eyes flick down to where you worry your lip between your teeth. “But they’re one of my favorites. They’re a huge inspiration for my band.” 

“You’re in a band?” You ask, though you’re not at all surprised. 

“Sure am,” he boasts, thumb thrust over his shoulder at a flier on the wall that reads Corroded Coffin. Washed in grayscale, an elevated version of the Eddie you’ve come to know stands at the front of the group in a fishnet top and leather pants, electric guitar slung low on his hips and dark makeup lining his eyes. Normally you’d laugh at the sight of someone you know dressed like that, but on him it works. “We’ve got a gig out at the Phoenix in Muncie this Saturday. If you end up liking Sabbath you should check us out.” 

“Oh, I’m-” you shake your head, laughing at your own hesitation, “is it 21 plus?” 

“Oh shit,” Eddie says, and you blink at the word. He shrugs, “don’t worry about it. They don’t usually card, and if they do I’ll tell them you’re with me.” The statement is accompanied by  a wink and a squeeze to your shoulder that has you nodding dumbly. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there.” 

With a stare fixed firmly on your behind, shameless in his attraction now that he’s gotten to know you, Eddie calls out to your retreating figure, “countin’ on it, sweetheart!” It’s only when you get to your car that you realize he’s given you four tapes. The three Sabbath ones you knew about, but tucked into the front pocket of your purse is a fourth tape, a mixtape, the title of which has you blushing and shaking your head as you pop it in and watch the permanent marker scrawled “The Good Girl’s Guide to Secular Music” disappear into the tape deck.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

John Wick AU Pt 2

Lena's "coronation" before the High Table and its families is a lavish, stately affair. Kara has taken up the role of Lena's chief bodyguard, despite no longer being bound to the high table. She's freelance now, free to serve who she wishes-- and she chooses Lena.

The day of the ceremony, Kara watches as attendants help bathe Lena, and rub oils into her skin before robing her in an embroidered silk robe. Only when Lena is ready to undertake the rites does Kara split off to survey the safety protocols she'd ordered for the hall in which the ceremony would take place, and only when Kara is satisfied does she nod for the ceremony to commence.

Representatives of all the families, seated and not, bear witness as the great doors open, admitting Lena and her retinue, Kara first in step behind her. Lena strides down the aisle with her head high, tall and regal.

At the end of the aisle stands a padded kneeler, akin to one on which a catholic bride might pray before exchanging vows. Upon reaching the golden, velvet lined stool, Lena pauses. An attendant, Eve, steps forward, assisting Lena to disrobe.

Lena's nudity is not sexual in nature-- it is ritual vulnerability, a symbol of her trust in the families who serve and an expression of her tenuous safety as Queen of the High Table. Without an ounce of self-consciousness, Lena turns and kneels, looking up at the Harbinger who would conduct the vows-- the same who had witnessed the duel that saw the end of her brother.

The vows are simple-- does Lena accept her role as Queen, and swear to serve in the interests of the table, and families who comprise it?

Such vows had not been asked of Lex-- no monarch has ever had to. For these are Lena's vows, the first of many changes she intends to sow during her reign. A monarch should not be above the social contract that governs their community, but be part of it more than any other party.

"I will serve," Lena affirms. "I will be of service."

Vows complete, Lena bends until her chest rests atop the kneeler. Eve delicately sweeps Lena's long hair to one side, exposing the back of her neck to the cool air of the room and the gaze of everyone present.

Taking a red hot brand from the brazier behind him, the Harbinger steps beside Lena, and presses it just above the center between her shoulderblades, below the nape of her neck.

Kara sees Lena tense, long fingers gripping the tops of her thighs where they rest. She issues a single grunt of pain-- a gesture more for her audience than for herself. She has survived worse than this, but she shows them that the burden of rule is not taken lightly.

It is done.

The poker pulls away, revealing a round circle overlaid with a cross-- a gunsight. A sign that wherever she goes now, Lena will always have eyes watching her, waiting to strike should she slip.

The room erupts into cheers and applause. Kara takes the robe from Eve, and holds it while Lena threads her arms into it. She leaves it loose on her shoulders, allowing the back collar to gape so that it would leave her new brand to air.

Kara's fingers gently brush Lena's skin as she pulls away-- a silent vow that she is there, a stolid pillar of support and safety. Their eyes meets briefly as Lena turns, and Kara sees the glimmer of affection and gratitude sent her way before Lena sits in the ornate throne that is exchanged for the kneeler.

What follows is a parade of family representatives kneeling at Lena's feet, swearing fealty to her. Kara keeps a close eye on each one, ever on guard, but spies no weapons. It seems the families are as eager to witness Lena's rule as Kara is.

When the parade of fealty concludes, Lena makes her way back down the aisle and out of the hall, trailed by Kara and the rest of her attendants. Her mother Lillian is among her retinue, and Kara could swear she sees a hint of pride in the woman's chill gaze.

Once back in her chambers, Lena allows a doctor to see to the brand now gracing her skin, applying ointment but no bandage. The families would be celebrating through the night, and the mark would remain on display for all to see.

"Leave us," Lena instructs her attendants, once she's draped in a flowing gown and her hair and makeup finished. With a look from Lena, Lillian leaves as well, until only Kara remains.

And it's Kara who helps adorn Lena in her necklaces, bracelets, and rings-- all of which she knows could turn into weapons at a second's notice. Lena regards her as Kara finishes with a kiss to her royal hand.

"Kara."

Lena leans in, kissing Kara gently. "I may have sworn fealty to the families today," she continues, "but I also swear fealty to you. I will serve you-- I will be of service."

The sacred words hit Kara straight in the chest. Given freely and unprompted, it means more than Lena would ever know.

"And I you," Kara returns. She turns Lena's hand over, bringing Lena's open palm to her lips. She meets Lena's gaze, bold and unafraid of any trouble that may come their way.

"Now and forever, I am yours."

[brunossan]

MORE BRAZILIAN LEGENDS FOR YOU TO ADD IN YOUR HISTORIES

Lets start with Pai do Mato

Pai do Mato, or Wild Father in a rough translation, is a giant entity that protects The nature around The center of Brazil. He has The size of a Hill and a body made of Dirt and Woods, with a blue nose. He is so big that He has a forest around its body. To make friends with him, you must give him Cachaça, or Beer. His piss smells like Vinegar.

BOITATÁ

Also called M'boitatá or just Boitatá, this is a Giant Snake made of fire, with eyes covering its body, who is also a guardian of nature, being against Wildfires in the Woods. Boitatá eyes can shoot fire beams, and looking directly at his eyes can either blind or kill you.

CRAMUNHÃO

Cramunhão, or The Devil in the bottle, is the name given to a demon who made a powerful deal with a human.

The Deal is simple: The Demon will stay inside a bottle and give to the human everything he desires during a certain amount of time. Then when The time is over, The Demon will take The soul of the human straight down to hell. To summon a Cramunhão, you must take care of a Rooster Egg (Yes, you heard me. A ROOSTER egg) under your armpit until it hatches. During this time, you are forbidden to do anything related with God or the Church. Also, dont following these rules can make the Demon attack, curse or even kill you in response. Also, the true appearence of the Devil in The Bottle is a Mistery, as no one except the human who made the deal can see it.

Cobra Norato e Maria Caninana

Cobra Norato and his sister Maria Caninan are 2 demigods from Brazilian Mythology, who are The son and daughter of Boiuna, The Giant Snake. Both of them are very powerful entities, and both are very known in Brazil.

They are both twins, but are also very different themselves. Cobra Norato is described as being Kind, gentle and romantic, also a friend of humanity. As for his sister, Maria Caninana is explosive, violent and does not hesitate in eating or poison humans if she wants to. Both of them have incredible powers, but Cobra Norato have also The Power of turning into a man, but only at night. His sister does not hold The same Power.

According to the legend, both of them had a fight once because Maria Caninana wanted to destroy an entire human City by waking up one of their Half-Brothers, a Church Snake. Cobra Norato stopped her and their fight caused a thunderstorm, wich ended with Maria Caninana being defeated. After that, Cobra Norato became The protector of everyone who would get closer to rivers, and his sister became his enemy, causing Whirlpools to drag People directly into her mouth.

And to finish this list, we have Boiúna

Boiúna, also known as Cobra Grande or The Giant Snake, is an ancient God who have The form of a Giant Snake. His size is unprecise, but he is supposed to be as big as The Amazon River itself in some versions. He is The God of all Water Courses and father of all Snakes and Cobras in Brazil.

Boiúna have a huge amount of Power, being capable of causing floods, Thunderstorms and even Earthquakes, sometimes by accident by just moving his Huge Body. Boiuna created all rivers and water courses just by moving his body around Brazil.

As being the father of all Snakes and Cobras, Boiúna had a bunch of powerful kids, known as Church Snakes. They are as big as their father, and are also very powerful. They are called Church Snakes because of a thing: Because of their size and Might, they spend a lot of time sleeping. Churches were built above their heads and tails, and they cant get up because they feel The presence of God and The Virgin Mary, wich makes them not get in mood to wake up. In Nazaré, a Brazilian City on The North, there is a religious ritual called Círio de Nazaré, where its believed by some natives to not only be a Catholic Party but also a way to prevent The Church Snake who sleeps under The City from Waking up, as they believe Holy Mary herself steps on The snake Head and keeps it asleep. There are registers of at least 10 Church Snakes around The Country, but there may be more.

The legend also says that when all Church Snakes wake up, they will cause an Earthquake so big that The entire country of Brazil will sink in the Ocean. A small Earthquake who happened in Nazaré was blamed by some locals as The Sleeping Church Snake "moving her tail while sleeping.".

I HOPE YOU LIKED. IF YOU WANT MORE BRAZILIAN LEGENDS, COMMENT OR ASK ME. IM HERE.

[nappingpaperclip]

sorry to pop y’all’s white liberal bubbles but even if every white liberal to centrist in the US votes blue, I genuinely don’t think Biden is gonna win due to the amount of voters he has lost in his handling of this genocide.

Do you all genuinely think he has a chance when he has disillusioned not just Palestinian-Americans and the people who care about them, but also Christian and Muslim Arabs, non-Arab Muslims, climate activists, and anyone who cares about immigrants or the fact that he’s bombing other countries??

Like listen to me: when you ask people to vote blue no matter who, who are you asking? Are you asking people who look and think like you?

Can you imagine asking that of an immigrant whose still at risk of being sent to a detention center? A Palestinian-American who has lost family in the genocide? A Christian who sees how Palestinian Christians are being killed in their Holy Land? Muslims who see the violence towards other Muslims both at home and in Palestine? Catholics who see even the Pope calling for a ceasefire but not their own Catholic president?

Can you imagine asking that of a Syrian refugee? Someone who’s family or friends live in Iraq or Yemen or Lebanon or Palestine? A climate activist whose friend got 10+ years in prison on RICO charges for protesting the Willow Project? Climate activists who saw their friend be shot and killed while protesting Cop City? 18 year trans high-schoolers who have to go to school and face the threat of bullying and corrective rape and murder every day? Indigenous people whose stolen land you’re living on, whose land is shrinking thanks to pipelines Biden personally approved?

Can you imagine asking that of women who need abortions because they are at risk of dying but who can’t get them anymore, because Biden held codeification hostage for blue Congressional votes? 18-20 something’s who wake up every day and see the mutilated bodies of children on their timelines? Black people who fear for their lives at every traffic stop, now more than ever knowing that the IDF trains our police? A person living on the streets because they lost their partner to COVID and can’t find work?

Would y’all say it to their faces? Would y’all hear yourselves while you did it? Would you get mad at them for reacting however they react?

These are people who exist btw, in and out of your communities. These are real people with real experiences. Would you still ask that of them, knowing what they’ve been through?

Did you know that Biden has former BlackRock leaders in his cabinet? Yknow, the largest investment company, which invests BILLIONS of dollars every year into private prisons (which includes immigration detention centers), oil companies, deforestation, arms manufacturing, etc. ? Look it up! Remember how Biden promised to address climate change? How he promised to let those kids out of cages? Did y’all forget about them?

Sorry but I just don’t see him winning with the amount of support he has lost, which is why saying “a vote for third party is a vote for Trump” is a fuckin joke. That’s not how the electoral college system even works, and also people voting third party are people who would rather not vote. Trying to organized disillusioned voters to vote for third party rather than not voting is not “gonna make trump win.” Biden’s own actions is going to make Trump win, if anything.

Stop blaming other people who are actually affected by these issues for Biden’s loss of support or if he loses to Trump. STOP BLAMING MARGINALIZED PEOPLE. BLAME BIDEN FOR HIS OWN ACTIONS

[maya-chirps]

Simbang Gabi: The 9 Days Before Christmas

An image of a red parol from Peakpx.com

The Philippines is well-known for its extremely long Christmas celebration that a lot of foreigners often look at with confusion. Traditionally, Filipinos may start putting up their trees, playing festive songs, and counting down to the 25th as early as September in a season that's colloquially called the "ber months" or the "ber months season" (Petrelli, 2021). This period often lasts up until January or February where some houses may still keep their trees and decor pushing as far as March.

Even with this technicality, however, you'd be hard-pressed to find Filipinos truly celebrating from the very beginning of September genuinely ending it by the end of February. Most often, actual celebrations start after Undas, a period encompassing All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day on the 1st and 2nd of November respectively to commemorate the dead, similar but a lot more subtle than other Catholic countries own Day of the Dead like in Mexico's Dia de Los Muertos and Italy's Giorno dei Morti. This time period is often the start of people doing more Christmas-y things such as Kris Kringle activities leading up to the main Christmas party.

The main markers of the true start in itself is the Advent season, which starts on the Sunday nearest to the 30th in Western Churches like Roman Catholicism and leads up to Christmas ("Advent", n.d.). This is where Catholics would go to Church every Sunday leading up to Christmas to light the Advent Wreath until the final candle on its center on Christmas day on the 25th. As the Philippines is heavily influenced by Roman Catholicism, Filipinos follow the Western start of Advent and most celebrations often fall in the middle of this time period. Even the middle of Advent, however, Filipinos have a waiting period to count down before Christmas - Simbang Gabi.

What is Simbang Gabi?

Simbang Gabi (en. night mass; going to mass at night) is a Philippine Christmas tradition wherein Roman Catholic Filipinos would attend mass nine days every single morning or night before the actual Christmas celebration. Traditionally, the masses were held every morning at 4:00 AM from the 16th to the 24th which would then be capped off by Christmas Eve Mass at night or Christmas Mass on the 25th with its early schedule earning it the name Misa de Gallo (en. mass of the rooster) (Lazaro, 2020). In most dioceses, however, they often have an anticipated mass schedule that start a night earlier than the morning masses (Hermoso, 2022).

Besides being called Misa de Gallo, I had also heard the celebration being called Misa de Aguinaldo (en. mass of gifts) in some places. This shares the same name as the similar Puerto Rican tradition Misa de Aguinaldo which is also a nine-day mass held in the morning, typically at 5:00 AM which is also deeply-rooted in Puerto Rican Christmas traditions (Álvarez, 2018).

History

A vintage greeting card posted by the Facebook group Vintage Philippine Islands 1920-1959 (2020)

Being a Christmas tradition, it is not surprising that Simbang Gabi could trace itself back to the Spanish colonial period.

A common misconception of its origins states that the practice first started in Mexico. Hermoso (2018) states that it started on the year 1587 by Friar Diego de Soria of the Convent of San Agustin Acolman when he requested the Vatican to allow church service to be held outdoors because of an overflow of attendees during the Christmas time. Pope Sixtus V later approved of this request and even decreed that these kinds of masses be held in the Philippines at the dawn of the 16th of December. What this doesn't account for was that the practice of going to church for the Eve of Christmas dates back to even earlier than the 16th century.

The cover for an English translation and compilation of Etheria's writings by M.L. McClure and C.L. Feltoe, D.D. (1919)

The first recorded instance of Christians celebrating Christmas by going to early mass leading up to the actual date was first written by Egeria (also called Egeriae, Etheria, or Aetheria), a Christian Galician woman who first recorded it during her travels to the Levant where she notes the early morning masses and festivities from the time of the Epiphany to the Nativity. She writes in her letters later called the Itinerarium Egeriae (en. The Travel Guide of Egeria; The Pilgrimage of Etheria).

"Octave of the Festival. On the second day also they proceed in like manner to the church in Golgotha, and also on the third day; thus the feast is celebrated with all this joyfulness for three days up to the sixth hour in the church built by Constantine (...) And in Bethlehem also throughout the entire eight days the feast is celebrated with similar festal array and joyfulness daily by the priests and by all the clergy there, and by the monks who are appointed in that place (...) and immense crowds, not of monks only, but also of the laity, both men and women, flock together to Jerusalem from every quarter for the solemn and joyous observance of that day." - Egeria, 381-384; The Pilgrimage of Etheria (trans. McClure & Feltoe, 1919):

The practice of attending early morning masses up until the main festivities of the Nativity was later adopted by more Western Christian communties during the time of Pope Sixtus III when he celebrated what is widely considered the first Midnight Mass at the Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome, not only stemming from the popularity of the Christians from Jerusalem but also the popular belief that Jesus was born at midnight (The Pillar, 2021).

The prayer spoken within the midnight vigil was then called the "mox ut gallus cantaverit" which translates to "when the rooster crows", aptly named because of the early hours the vigil tended to last which then coincided with the crowing of roosters ("Misa del Gallo: origen, historia y por qué se celebra en la madrugada del 25 de diciembre", 2022). The practice was continued by the Spanish with the name Misa de Gallo (also called Misa de Aguinaldo)which later spread throughout the Spanish Empire and could now be seen practiced in countries like Bolivia, Puerto Rico, Venezuela, and of course the Philippines.

There seem to be two variations of this: the nine-day series of masses before Christmas (found in the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela) and the single early morning mass before Christmas day (found in Spain and Bolivia). It isn't clear if Spain and Bolivia simply dropped the nine-day tradition or if the nine-day tradition was restarted in these other colonies, however.

In the Present Day

An image of crowds outside a church during Simbang Gabi uploaded to Wikimedia by Erwin Malicdem

Today, the Simbang Gabi continues to be a popular tradtion for most Filipino Roman Catholics, even those who aren't typically as religious most parts of the year. This is given the fact that a popular belief is that when a person completes all of the nine days, they may receive a wish to whatever they desire. This is such a common belief that Bishop Broderick Pabillo, a Manila auxiliary bishop, had to remind people that the point of the tradition is to remember Jesus and his nativity (Punay, 2016). Besides this, it is also a common challenge among Filipinos to try to complete it as is or see how many days out of the nine could they actually attend.

It is not uncommon for churches these days to hold an "anticipated" mass the night before the actual date starting instead on the 15th and ending on the 24th with a Christmas mass, instead of starting on the 16th and ending on the 25th. This newer tradition had come from the reign of Filipino dictator President Ferdinand Marcos Sr. during the Martial Law years in the 70s, when Filipinos were not allowed to go out after a curfew until 4 in the morning (Macairan, 2023). This allowed more people and especially those who may not be able to start their day early or those who may have other obligations in the morning to attend masses at night time, typically at around 6 PM - 8 PM.

The only large controversy that I could remember about Simbang Gabi was back in 2011 when the event was banned from being conducted within the Philippine Center in New York City. The ban came about because of it supposedly violated Canon Law which prohibits religious worship in unconsecrated ground or in other words places that aren't seen as places of worship. In an article by Adarlo & Pastor (2014), Rev. Dr. Joseph G. Marabe, the at-the-time head of the Chapel of San Lorenzo Ruiz and a priest-in-residence at St. Patrick's Cathedral where the ban took place, explains in an interview with news site The FilAm:

"It’s not allowed by law to have Holy Mass in an unconsecrated place. Worship should take place in a sacred place. That was an explanation but not a decision. The Archdiocese decides." - Rev. Dr. Joseph G. Marabe, head of the Chapel of San Lorenzo Ruiz in Chinatown, New York (2011)

The ban was later lifted on 2014 after community leader Loida Nicolas Lewis wrote a letter to the diocese to reconsider the ban which led to the return of the almost 30-year-old tradition that year (Balitang America, ABS-CBN North America Bureau, 2014).

Besides being a huge part of current traditions, a lot of Filipinos, and especially Filipino youth, use the event as an excuse to go out during the night to hang out with friends and even go on dates with their partners. It is not an uncommon sight to see a group of teenagers, often wearing maybe less than typical church clothes, by the edge of the Church seemingly attending mass. Whether or not they're actually being attentive is hard to decipher. Either way, this has led to an explosion of memes almost every year just mocking these kinds of people or making fun of their own.

A screenshot of the "Simbang gabi starter pack" posted by user rhapido on 9Gag.com (2022)

Earlier versions of this meme could be seen posted throughout Filipino social media during the early 2010s

A meme posted by the Facebook page FEU Memes (2012)

The barkada (en. friend group) going to Simbang Gabi had been an older tradition that has found a lot more popularity in the contemporary era because of social media. My mother had told me that she used to use it as an excuse herself back in the 80s to hang out with her friends at night time. This may be a continued past time for especially younger people for years to come.

There's also many street foods associated with Simbang Gabi that may not be unique to the event itself but are nevertheless heavily associated with the event due to their widespread sale during this time period. Foods like bibingka, puto bumbong, kutsinta, and other popular rice cakes dominate the scene which definitely satisfy the hungry parishioners who had, most likely, not eaten breakfast or dinner before going to church. With their strong associations with Simbang Gabii and Filipino Christmas as a whole, I might discuss these on a later date.

Simbang Gabi, from my experience

Growing up and living in the Philippines and especially being raised Catholic within a Catholic town named after a Catholic saint and going to a Catholic school named after another Catholic saint, it probably won't shock you that I, myself, had tried to complete the nine days of Simbang Gabi myself. I had attempted it several times with only maybe trying seriously by myself once in my life. It was quite the experience to just try to dedicate yourself into completing a goal to do something for nine consecutive days straight.

My first attempt was when I was in Junior High and it was with my sister and two people who worked for my parents and had helped watch over us. It was something that I always wanted to try doing and especially since I was gaining a lot more independence at the time so what better to try it out without the rest of the family? With adult supervision, of course.

Since we lived quite away from the actual church, the place was already packed even an hour before the actual mass started. There was barely any seats left and even less standing room leading to a huge overflow of people stuck outdoors, only hearing mass from the outdated speaker system that they had erected in place of the old bell tower.

The mass in our church was often done in the dark during the night out of an deliberate and probably aesthetic choice with only the alter being illuminated by the lights. The rest was lit up by the scattered about Christmas decor throughout the church and the church patio. It always felt like going to some liminal space that other nights at church just doesn't give.

Once the mass has been concluded, people rush out of the doors in thick crowds to find their way into the footpaths leading on to the main town streets. Some opt to stay behind to enjoy the food stalls that had pop-up for the night to eat bibingka, puto, sapin-sapin, and palitaw among other things. Some of the teens had decided to raid the nearby small park and playground as a hang-out spot to talk the night away before they rush home for their curfews. Meanwhile others were just rushing to get home as soon as they can, with people lining up to go to the rudimentary parking space that the church created while the others who didn't own their own vehicles forced to compete for the very few commuter vehicles still riding through the night, hunting for passengers.

This was before we had our own car, so we were with the latter crowds of people, trying to peer through the dark streets only illuminated by the scant Christmas lights that still refused to turn off as the night progressed. Every so often, two headlights excite the crowd and a swarm of them start running in anticipation with not care or tact if they would crush children or separate families all to take a seat on the night jeepneys, some the few commutes left after 9.

My sister was an expert in finding her way through it, reaching out to the doors to form a barricade for herself and the rest of us to prevent others from taking our seats before letting herself in. I still think I would've been left behind if it weren't for her doing that out of sheer competitiveness with the crowds.

We settled into our seats and squeezed in tightly to allow other passengers in so we could all go home as soon as we can. It was a tight but otherwise uneventful commute every night with nothing but tired people waiting for their stops and slowly emptying the once packed vehicle. Since we live in the outskirts of the town, we were often the last few and at times, the drivers would transfer us to other jeeps just so they can go home themselves. This had sometimes instead left us to walk the remainder of the way there through unpaved highway sidewalks.

After a few nights of it, I became more and more reluctant to continue because of the frenzy that it had almost every single night and it was extremely inconvenient for my time and the time of those with me. I didn't complete it then and I hadn't seriously tried until 9th Grade, which honestly was more uneventful.

That attempt was mostly my siblings and I staying in Makati City and Taguig City and going to easily traveled to churches that we could walk to by foot, and high-end malls that have annual Simbang Gabi masses for their shoppers, facilitated by the local diocese and the local fancy church. I was able to complete those easily because I was often dragged either by my siblings or my grandmother who used to never miss a day of church when she was still more active.

It was less about the challenge at that point and more of an obligation which isn't a bad thing and honestly is probably closer to how it should be celebrated.

I hadn't gone to Simbang Gabi since 2019 and I don't have any plans to try this year either. Not really because I don't want to necessarily, but specifically because I physically can't. I still think its pretty fun to do and honestly maybe a good excuse to meet with my friends that I haven't seen in a while. Sadly, I just simply cannot do it now nor in the near future.

Maybe one day I could once again go out at those cold December night to meet my friends and maybe eat some bibingka on my way home but I guess I'll just leave every one else to it.

Sources

Introduction

Advent. (n.d.). In Britannica. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://www.britannica.com/topic/Advent

In The Philippines Christmas Eve Includes A Late Night Street Food Feast, Filipino Christmas, HD wallpaper [image]. (n.d.). Peakpx. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.peakpx.com/en/hd-wallpaper-desktop-wxdle

Petrelli, M. (2021, December 20). The country that celebrates Christmas for more than 4 months a year. CNBC. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://www.cnbc.com/2021/12/21/philippines-the-longest-christmas-celebrations-in-the-world-.html

What is Simbang Gabi?

Álvarez, F. (2018, November 22). Una tradición matutina la Misa de Aguinaldo. Primera Hora. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://www.primerahora.com/noticias/puerto-rico/notas/una-tradicion-matutina-la-misa-de-aguinaldo/

Hermoso, C. (2022, December 15). 9-day ‘Simbang Gabi’ begins on Dec. 16; anticipated masses to begin tonight. Manila Bulletin. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://mb.com.ph/2022/12/15/9-day-simbang-gabi-begins-on-dec-16-anticipated-masses-to-begin-tonight/

Lazaro, J. (2020, December 11). The Christmas tradition of Simbang Gabi: After five centuries, this Filipino Christmas tradition lives on. U.S. Catholic. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://uscatholic.org/articles/202012/the-christmas-tradition-of-simbang-gabi/

History

Hermoso, C. (2018, December 15). ‘Simbang Gabi’ a manifestation of the Filipinos’ strong faith in God, says bishop. Manila Bulletin. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://mb.com.ph/2018/12/15/simbang-gabi-a-manifestation-of-the-filipinos-strong-faith-in-god-says-bishop/

Etheria (1919). The Pilgrimage of Etheria (McClure, M., & Feltoe, C. Ed. & Trans.). Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Retrieved on 13 December 2023, from https://www.ccel.org/m/mcclure/etheria/etheria.htm (Original work published 384 C.E.)

McClure, M., & Feltoe, C. (1919). [An image of the book cover of "The Pilgrimage of Etheria"]. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.ccel.org/m/mcclure/etheria/etheria.htm

The Pillar. (2021, December 21). What time is Midnight Mass?. The Pillar. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.pillarcatholic.com/p/what-time-is-midnight-mass

Misa del Gallo: origen, historia y por qué se celebra en la madrugada del 25 de diciembre. (2022, December 24). Marca. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.marca.com/tiramillas/actualidad/2022/12/24/63a6c106268e3e7c468b45e8.html

Vintage Philippine Islands 1920-1959. (2020, December 25). A Vintage Greeting Card showing Philippine Christmas… Maligayang Pasko from Vintage Philippine Islands 1920-1959 [image]. Facebook. Retrieved 15 December 2023, from https://www.facebook.com/510513375695362/photos/a.1701322009947820/3595821097164559/?type=3

In the Present Day

Adarlo, S., & Pastor, C. (2014, November 3). Fr. Joseph Marabe breaks silence over Simbang Gabi ban (Part 2). The FilAm: A Magazine for Filipino Americans in New York. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://thefilam.net/archives/16127

Balitang America, ABS-CBN North America Bureau. (2014, September 19). Simbang Gabi returns to NYC after a brief ban. ABS-CBN News. Retrieved on 15 December 2023 from https://news.abs-cbn.com/global-filipino/09/19/14/simbang-gabi-returns-nyc-after-brief-ban

FEU Memes. (2012, December 15). eto yung mga madalas ko makita sa gilid ng simbahan e [image]. Retrieved on 15 December 2023 from https://www.facebook.com/PIYUMEMES/photos/a.210778985704527/317211885061236/?type=3

Macaira, E. (2023, December 15). Simbang Gabi: It’s the mass, not the time. Philippine Star. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2023/12/15/2318980/simbang-gabi-its-mass-not-time

Malicdem, E. (n.d.) The Bamboo Organ Church or the St. Joseph Parish Church of Las Piñas City in the Philippines during "Simbang Gabi" or Night Mass on Christmas eve. Photo was part of Schadow1 Expeditions coverage of Las Piñas during Christmas season. [image]. Retrieved on 15 December 2023 from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simbang_Gabi#/media/File:Las_Pinas_Church_during_Simbang_Gabi.jpg

Punay, E. (2016, December 19). ‘Simbang Gabi’ won’t grant wishes – Bishop. Philippine Star Global. Retrieved on 15 December 2023, from https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2016/12/19/1654920/simbang-gabi-wont-grant-wishes-bishop

rhapido. (2022, November 30). Simbang gabi starter pack [Screenshot]. 9Gag. Retrieved 15 December 2023, from https://9gag.com/gag/a5Xnzgr