#It is entirely possible that turning the other cheek will result in a second smiting.
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Lusterware, Disillusionment and Discipleship
While sitting in a Sunday School class recently, listening to my LDS-scholar friend Calvin Burke teach, I was touched by an article he referenced, titled "Lusterware" in Wayfare magazine, written by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. Dr. Ulrich is also LDS and won the Pulitzer prize for A Midwife's Tale. She is perhaps most famous for the quote "well behaved women seldom make history". Her article in Wayfare relates the following poem by Emily Dickinson, likens the poem to our faith journey, and then gives a brief history of lusterware:
It dropped so lowâ in my Regardâ I heard it hit the Groundâ And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mindâ Yet blamed the Fate that flung itâless Than I denounced Myself, For entertaining Plated Wares Upon my Silver Shelf.â
Lusterware is a type of pottery, thinly glazed with metal. In the 1800's, a thin coating of platinum that made the piece appear to be solid silver became a popular, cheap option for the middle class. However, unlike solid silver, lusterware shatters if knocked off a shelf.
Lusterware pieces are the poem's 'Plated Wares'. They are beliefs, once held in high esteem and placed upon a 'Silver Shelf', that have fallen and shattered - proving that they never truly belonged there in the first place.
"Sooner or later," Dr. Ulrich writes, "most of us are forced to confront our shattered beliefs... There are lusterware missions and marriages, lusterware friendships, lusterware histories, and yes, lusterware visions of ourselves."
It is often in the testing, as a belief falls and shatters, or falls and remains true, that we learn the nuances of that which endures and that which was only previously assumed to endure. Dr. Ulrich continues:
"I read the nineteenth chapter of Leviticus and find the second greatest commandment, 'thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,' side by side with a sober command that 'neither shall a garment mingled of linen and woolen come upon thee' (Leviticus 19:18â19). Every dispensation has had its silver and its lusterware."
"Sweeping up the lusterware, we sometimes forget to polish and cherish the silver, not knowing that the power of discernment is one of the gifts of the Spirit and that the ability to discover counterfeit wares also gives us the power to recognize the genuine."
The church and many of its members are in a period of testing, of looking for the true silver in different approaches to complex theological questions and practices. I have faith that God knows the answers, and have found it wise to embrace the second greatest commandment myself, even when others take actions that hurt me and those I care for. Perhaps, as has been too often the case in human history, it is ultimately the suffering of the innocent that will show the true path forward. We hope that the God who sees the fall of the sparrow will work all things together for our good, and that we may, as a people, find our way to that which matters most.
Love, Erran
#Nothing in that final sentiment requires anyone to remain in a path or place that harms them or their loved ones.#It is entirely possible that turning the other cheek will result in a second smiting.#queerstake#tumblrstake#lgbt#lgbtqia+#lds#religion#mormon#trans#transgender#love#Calvin Burke
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hiii moonnn !! for the kiss prompt , may I request johnny pls đ„ș place: under the stars & love as the reason ! tysm this is an honour bc uâre one of my fave nct writers đđ
thank u darling for enjoying my writing!!
theme:Â boyfriend!au, demigod!au (greek mythology)
âSoâŠare you gonna tell me why you brought me up here orâŠ?â
âDo I need a reason?â Johnny grins at you, chin resting on his forearms atop the roof of his car.
âI canât help but think youâre up to something,â you state, narrowing your eyes at him from the other side.Â
Johnny lets out a short chuckle before closing the door of the car and motioning for you to follow. When your boyfriend said heâs taking you on an adventure, you quite literally had no clue what to expect. Everythingâs an adventure to the manâeven if itâs just going out at 3 a.m. to get hot ramen from the convenience store right beside your apartment. You didnât think itâd be an hour drive, dozing off on Johnnyâs shoulder by the time you reached.
You take two steps after him before you gasp.
âDonât tell me weâre meeting your dad!âÂ
The blood drains from your face at the idea. A God among Godsâyou wish that were an understatementâis unlikely to meet mere human beings on a whim, lesser beings as one of the other demigod children had labeled bitterly. Heâs a God, feared and admired since times of war and prayers. So what gives you, a mortal, enough confidence to face someone as divine, as powerful? It makes you uneasy.
You shake out of your trance to find Johnny laughing, doubled over.
âWeâre not really meeting him but- youâre that scared of my dad?â he says, calming down from his fit. âEven Iâm not that terrified of him, babe.â
âShut up,â you say, cheeks coloring. âItâs not exactly everyday I meet someone who can smite me out of existence.â
âRelax! Heâs pretty easy-going,â your boyfriend reassures you, taking hold of your hand. âBesides, he likes hanging out at the beach. And heâs got, like, a bajillion other kids to worry about.â
You rub your thumb over his knuckles, a sigh leaving your lips.
âHe canât be that bad,â you mumble, feeling somewhat sorry.
âOh,â Johnny says with a dismissive tone, âPretty sure heâs won worst dad of the year several times, actually. Only beaten by Zeus himself.â
You want to laugh but you stiffen.Â
âAre you allowed to say his name like that?!â You lower your voice, eyes shifting around nervously.
âIf Zeus could hear everyone saying his name, heâd be, uh, hearing some delicate words pretty often.â Johnny shrugs. âAnd then weâd have more thunderstorms.âÂ
You laugh, easing, Johnnyâs eyes lighting up at the sound. They always make you feel warm in the chest, with how pretty those almond eyes are. He tugs at your hand, and you follow him up a beaten road before diverging into a less visible track.
Itâs a long walk uphill, however, and Johnny has it easy when his legs are so fucking long. The wind gets chilly and you cling onto Johnnyâs hand for a little piece of warmth. A break would be nice. You stop halfway through, swearing at your boyfriend for choosing such a godforsaken place but continue nonetheless when he frowns, a look in his eyes you donât want to upset.Â
Johnny doesnât let go of your hand the entire time. Heâs been this way since you started dating, perhaps even beforeâa little protective with the need to feel your touch at all times. Itâs understandable and you found it endearing despite how often he refuses to let go. (And his strength and stature make it next to impossible to break free.)
It wasnât hard to tell there was something off about your boyfriend; maybe not the first or second time you met him, but eventually, it was clear. You met in university after all, and itâs not the full uni experience unless all your secrets are laid bare by the end of first year.Â
Johnny was a natural people person, everyone drawn to him like he was made of honey, of things so sweet. But there was something about him, oh it nagged you day and night, a silvery whisper. The way he spoke, the way he smiledâthere was a quiet difference you just couldnât put your finger on. Heâs aced every athletics club entrance test for fun, a little awkward at reading his text material and always hanging around the swimming pool for too longâgosh, were the number of people ogling him extraordinarily high then. There were so many hints and youâd missed all of them.Â
Youâve met demigods before, just not one like this. Johnny was almost unworldly were it not for his habit of making everyone feel at ease. It took you a while to figure out.
Son of Poseidon, gentle eyes and sun-crinklesâhow could you miss it? The way he smells of golden amber and sea musk, calloused hands and deep eyes, just all of him, really. It was hard to not find him attractive. But it was harder to answer if that was all.Â
The place gets closerâyou know because you can see a soft smile forming on Johnnyâs face. You quicken your pace to match his footsteps, curiosity peaking as you notice your boyfriend get giddier.
The water glows a gentle blue, in contrast with the darker shade of its surroundings. They reflect the stars, their shine not dulled through the distance and a certain twinkling you havenât seen in them in quite a while. Water lilies bloom bright, small frogs jumping in and out of the water. There might be some fish too but theyâre elusive, invisible if you try too hard to spot them.Â
Itâs a clear sky tonight. You sigh at the warmth, quite possibly a result of the habitation around here but youâre glad it soothes the cool air. (âYou like this kind of thing, donât you?â âHm, yeah.â)
âYou will not believe how I had to impress the Naiads to find this place,â Johnny tells you, walking closer to the spring to stand beside you.
You furrow your eyebrows at him, the implication of his words not quite what you expected. âImpress, huh?â
âNo- babe, thatâs not- I mean, of course not,â Johnny looks at you with mock hurt.
âNaiads do love a son of Poseidon,â you mumble, turning away to face the waters.Â
Johnny wraps his arms around you, resting his chin atop your head. âOh, but this son of Poseidon only loves you.â
âJohnny, thatâs cheesy,â you say looking down, the heat quite rushed to your cheeks. You want to call him an idiot but the word falls short.
âBut youâre enjoying it,â he hums.
âI enjoy everything about you.â
You feel Johnny shake with soft laughter, swaying gently at his own pace. You donât know when you started to see Johnny in most everythingâin the new dog cafes, in midnight city rains, in children playing volleyball. Call it love, call it more.
You turn around. âIââ
Johnny presses his mouth against yours in a kiss that makes you melt and you clutch the fabric of his hoodie for support. His arms wind around your waist, secure as always and he hums when you push against him.Â
âBabyâs getting bolder, hm?â he murmurs between kisses with a laugh. You respond with a weak sound.
You remember the first time you kissed him, not quite sober and he had pushed you away only to spend the night with you. The whiskey still burns on your tongue sometimes.Â
You donât need to see fireworks when you kiss, just taste the late night coffee and a bit of Johnny.Â
A son of a God and his lips, tongue, fingers, loveâthe texts and scribes were nothing close to describing it perfectly. You forget the words you meant to tell him.
But you donât have to say âI love youâ; itâs there in your mouth and he can taste it.
//
âNo, I donât wanna listen to the minotaur story again!â Johnny shakes you by the shoulders. âItâs literally the worst thing Iâve ever heard.â
âBut why? I think itâs funnyââ
âYeah, Dadâs very creative butâŠgross.â
You laugh at his disgust, nose wrinkled and a mild shaking of his head.Â
âTell me another story,â he says, leaning in, âSomething moreâŠromantic.â
You breathe out quickly at the sudden proximity, heart in your throat. His smile grows and you resist the urge to huff at him. Heâs unbearable when he knows heâs under your skin. Gods, it was harder to admit you fell in love with him than it was to find out his heritage.
You reach out and move the hair out of his face, marveling at how he manages to keep it soft when he used to be a sweaty college student pretty often. Memories are funny in a way, they keep you so closely tied. Thereâs an embarrassing amount of pictures of him on your phone, the ones he sent from the dorms, from his new job, sometimes family photos during holidays. It gets busy a lot, but sometimes, just sometimes, itâs like this.Â
You wonder if Gods get to have happy endings. You wonder if thereâs more to the constellations they made.
âHello?â Johnny pretends to knock on your forehead.
âSomething more romantic, hm? Okay,â you say and he goes back to laying his head on your lap, twirling the water in wisps around his fingers to spell random words. You bend to press a kiss to his forehead, a surprised smile wavering onto his face as the water splashes beside you.
âBaby, you might want to have aimed lower.â Johnny winks at you.
âYouâre so annoying. Iâm in love with you.â
#nct scenarios#nct 127 scenarios#nct johnny scenarios#nct blurbs#nct 127 blurbs#nct au#nct fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct johnny fluff#kiss prompts#moonwrites#a full nct demigod au pls discuss#once upon a time.....i used to be a fast writer.......#i rlly wish i could write the demigod part better but id digress too much hhhhh
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Villain!All Might (Smite)x reader. part 2/20
link to part 1Â Â
You pass weeks in a distracted, miserable state. Two, three, a month. Longer. At first, you chalk it up to the huge secret you now have to keep. A secret that feels as big as All Might himself. By a complete accident of time and place, youâve come into possession of valuable intel on the most wanted criminal in Japan, possibly the world. Every day, you consider spilling the details to your best friend, who you also happen to work with. But how would you possibly bring it up?
âOh, hey Kiko, guess what, I met a guy! Yeah⊠heâs super hot, tall, bit of a dark side. His name? Iâm not sure, but professionally he goes by All Might.â
You can only imagine the confusion and disgust that would elicit. Even from Kiko, who usually tries to support your decisions, no matter how bad. The knowledge itself needles at you too, day after day. This information about his quirk could be the key to capturing him or bringing him downâ forget using it to advance your own career. You could go to the police with this, you could go to Endeavorâs hero agency. You could change things. You could save lives. To your shame, that guilt isnât strong enough to betray All Mightâs confidence. He had trusted you. The number one villain trusted you with his secret identity, and apparently still does, because he hasnât hunted you down and executed you. (Yet.)
Maybe he canât. Your analytical mind spins theories in the absence of more definitive information. Maybe that muscle form takes a lot out of him, energy-wise. Maybe itâs too hard to maintain for long, and thatâs why he sometimes disappears for days and weeks on end. And what about that whole coughing up blood thing?
By the third week, youâre using what little spare time you can find at work cobbling together a timeline of every documented All Might incident, closing in on a thousand entries in a hidden spreadsheet on your computer, and youâre only up to what most subject matter experts would consider the midway point of his active period. You havenât found any patterns yet, nothing definitive, though as a foreigner yourself, his mysterious stint in America raises so many questions.Â
âHey!â A chipper voice and a knock-knock on your cubicle divider make you close the spreadsheet. You turn and see Kiko there, smiling and curious.Â
âHey!âÂ
âWhatcha working on?âÂ
âOh, you know.â You wave your hand airily. âNothing, really, just some busywork for Mr. Shimada.â
âWell, come on! Itâs team lunch today.â
âAw, really?â
âYes. And you canât skip. Youâre looking too skinny.â That couldnât be true, but the accusation reminds you of All Might, how he looked like he never got enough to eat. At least, one version of him. Kiko is sweet to be worried about you. Sheâs always so kind and considerate, always making sure you donât bury yourself in your work, inviting you to lunch and for midday walks to get some sunlight.Â
âOkay, okay. Iâm not trying to get out of it.â You lock your computer screen and collect your jacket from the back of your chair. It will be nice to get a break outside of the office for sure. Given the sensitive nature of your work, your building is a secure one, with no windows and checkpoints to get in and out. Other than a few cultural holdouts, the workplace bears little resemblance to a traditional Japanese office, having adopted some more western practices, like cubicles and excessive use of PowerPoint. âHave you heard back from the Licensing Bureau?â
Kiko heaves a big sigh, which tells you that she hasnât. âI thought I would last week at the latest, but nothing.â
You follow her into the elevator. âThatâs weird. Donât they usually send confirmation or denial pretty promptly?â
âMost petitioners receive the news right after their test.â She shrugs, throwing you a little smile as she precedes you into the lobby. âGuess Iâm special.â
âOf course you are,â you laugh, rolling your eyes a little, but you mean it. She has pure hearted intentions about becoming a part-time volunteer hero. Discussion about the intricacies of Licensing Bureau policies and mailing schedules continues all the way to the barbecue restaurant where together you conclude, that her unusual quirk must be holding up their decision. It makes sense. Reanimation, her ability to create a zombie from a dead body, is dangerous and powerful, and is rightfully quite closely controlled. Itâs also very much at odds with her sunny, happy personality. She rarely brings it up, but you know she regrets not having a more standard type of quirk. Sheâs also one of the few people who know about your quirk and has been a steadfast guardian of the secret.
Nothing much happens at the team lunch. Office gossip, rehashing the latest news, etc. Though, you do find out from Mr. Kawada, your supervisor, that you are one of two analysts who have been selected to support and consult on a new account the firm is taking on. So exclusive that you arenât even allowed to know who the client is yet. You act grateful, mustering as much enthusiasm as you canâ itâs a great opportunityâ but inwardly, youâre daydreaming about All Might. Thatâs been happening more and more.Â
When you get back to the office after lunch, youâre roped into a meeting with Mr. Kawada, and Mr. Shimada and the rest of the team leads. You know you should be paying attention but you zone out through most of it, replaying that fateful night in your head.Â
A couple days later, the obsession reaches a critical level. You have to find him. Not as an analyst, not to bring him to justice. You just have to see him, and you donât quite understand why, but itâs a need, a hunger that grows sharper and more potent each day.Â
Riding the train to work, you start searching in your web browser. âAll Mightâ. Too much noise. News articles from twenty different sources all about the same recent attacks clog the entire first page of results. When you get into the office, you go through the motions, sitting down at your workstation, logging in, all on autopilot.Â
The only thing you can think about is All Might. As time has passed, you try harder and harder to keep fresh that image in your mind of how he looked in his other form. The skinny one, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. He hadnât been any less intense like that.Â
You refine your searches, hitting wall after wall of no results or way too many. A passing coworkerâs idol-themed lanyard catches your eye; you finally hit on an idea: âAll Might fan clubâ. That gets you something. You navigate to the first result, an outdated page with a garish background and little animated pixel version of All Might in the corner of the screen. Dancing. you have to admit itâs kind of cute. Suddenly, loud sound plays through your computerâs speakers.Â
âI am on a website! I am on a website!â Itâs All Mightâs voiceâ his villain voice, which has people in other cubicles peeking over the dividers at you to find the source of the noise. Panicking, you close the tab. Then, after making sure your computerâs volume is muted, you find your way back to that same page. Sure enough, thereâs a link at the top titled I LOVE TO MEET MY FANS. Following it brings you to a listing of a mailing address and⊠yes. A phone number.Â
Heart racing, you copy it down on a sticky note, tuck it in your purse and, before it can register in your mind as a bad idea, slip out of the office.Â
The train back to your home stop is nearly empty in the middle of the day. A few tourists, old people, some kids playing hooky.Â
You turn your phone over and over. It said he loves to meet his fans⊠what fans? Doesnât everyone hate him? Maybe thatâs how you should open the conversation. Hey Mr. All Might, I know youâre universally reviled but I thought Iâd hit you up anyway. The idea makes you snort-laugh. No. Just keep it simple.
You: hi.
A few seconds later, during which you stare at your phone, the three âtypingâ dots appear. Then go away, with no message coming through. Could this really be him? Or is it just some weirdoâs phone number? Some otaku impersonating All Might on the internet. Not like you are in any position to be accusing someone of obsession.
You: this is the girl you met in the alley. You pause for a second, thinking of how you could signal to him who you are. He might meet a lot of girls in alleys.Â
You: I saw you shrink.
A moment later, he replies with your name. Shock hits you; you click the screen off, black then click it on again. Your name is still there.
Him: I tHOUT I told =you to standstill and bee silent.Â
Itâs him. With lots of typos, but itâs him.
Oh, god. What are you doing?Â
You donât reply again until you get inside your apartment. Standing just inside the front door, with your shoes still on, you write out three versions of a witty retort, and erase each one. Stupid. What are you even trying to get out of this?Â
You: I think people deserve to know who you really are.Â
Nothing. Nothing for an unbearable minute that feels like another week gone by.
You: Iâm going to the media.Â
Youâre not. You donât know why you just told him that.
The three dots appear and disappear, again, with no new text. You watch the screen for what seems like an eternity, still standing in your entryway with your purse on your shoulder.Â
And then thereâs a thundering knock on the door.
Link to part 3
#villain all might#villain all might x reader#All Smite#all smite x reader#All Might#all might x reader#bnha#mha#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction
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