#but i've always hated that we never found out what happened to christian

[princesssarisa]

Some questions about Andersen's "The Little Mermaid" (not Disney's)

I'd like to ask other people these questons:

In Hans Christian Andersen's original story of The Little Mermaid, how do you feel about the Prince? And how do you think we're supposed to feel about him?

Reading various comments about The Little Mermaid online or in non-fiction books, it's clear that it's popular to hate the Prince. People talk about what a "jerk" he turns out to be, and how he "betrays" the Little Mermaid.

Some adaptations also make him more blatantly selfish and unlikable he is in the original. For example, by having him become the Mermaid's lover, only to betray her with another woman, or to reveal that he's already betrothed and never planned to marry her. Disney of course makes Eric fully sympathetic, but does have him fall in love with Ariel and only stray from her because Ursula hypnotizes him. And a few versions have him realize too late that the Mermaid was his true love whom he should have chosen to marry, which never happens in Andersen's version.

Part of the hate Andersen's Prince gets is obviously irrational. At the very least, in the original story, he never betrays the Mermaid because they're never a couple.

But each time I reread the story, I don't know what to make of him. Are we meant to like him or dislike him?

The first detail in his favor is that his subjects seem to love him. The Mermaid overhears fishermen praising him in their boats. When a character is in a position of power, it's always important to notice how the people under his power talk about him.

But speaking of people under his power... his family has slaves. Now, from what I've read, Andersen was anti-slavery. But in the context of this fairy tale, I'm not sure if he meant for the presence of slaves to paint the royal family negatively, or if they're just a part of the implied "exotic" setting, like the presence of citrus and palm trees.

Now let's move on to the heart of the issue: the Prince's treatment of the Little Mermaid in her mute human form.

Obviously, we can't blame him for not realizing that she saved his life, or for crediting the Princess who found him unconscious on the beach with saving him. He has no way of knowing that it wasn't just the waves that swept him to shore.

And it's hard to fault his basic treatment of the Mermaid. He finds a mysterious mute girl on the beach, and despite having no idea of her family, her background, or where she comes from, he brings her to live in the palace, has her richly dressed, and makes her his constant, dearest companion. His affection for her is clear and strong throughout their time together and she loves him more every day.

Yet instead of giving her a proper bed, he has her sleep on a velvet cushion by the door of his room. Like a pet.

He never treats her as an equal, but loves her "as he would love a little child," despite being only a year older than she is. Just because she's mute, and because she's socially beneath him (or so it seems, since he doesn't know she's a princess), he infantilizes her.

Yet sometimes, he shifts away from treating her like a little sister or a pet, and does seem to treat her as a potential romantic partner. He tells her that she reminds him of the girl he loves, whom he thinks he'll never see again – it's implied that much of his fondness for her stems from her resemblance to the Princess. He also tells her "you have almost driven her image out of my mind" (what does that bode for his future with the Princess, if he can freely talk about almost forgetting her in favor of another girl?), and that if he has to marry but can't have his beloved, then he would rather marry his "little foundling" than anyone else.

He freely takes her in his arms too, kisses her forehead and mouth, plays with her hair, and rests his head on her chest. By 19th century standards, would this have been "seemly" or not?

What are we supposed to make of all this? Is the Prince just a kind, affectionate friend who takes comfort in his "little foundling's" presence after losing his beloved, and who values her enough that if he can't marry for love, a platonic marriage to her would be the next best thing? Or should we see him as toying with her and using her as a substitute for a romantic partner, yet because of her disability and lack of status, never humanizing her enough to go all the way?

Then, when he reunites with his Princess, he fails to see the Mermaid's pain, but expects her to "rejoice at my happiness." Is this innocent on his part, or unforgivably self-absorbed?

Part of the problem is the fact that this story is from 1837. The cultures of friendship, romance, male-female interactions, class relations, and disability were obviously all different back then, and hard to fully understand from a modern perspective. I'm not sure if the original readers would have viewed the Prince with more sympathy or less than modern readers tend to.

When his treatment of his "little mute foundling" seems ableist by today's standards, did Andersen mean for it to be ableist? Or would he have seen it as "only natural" to treat a mute girl that way? Was Andersen critiquing ableism, or being ableist himself? And in an era when social class was more rigid than it is today, would it have seemed "only natural" for a prince to treat a homeless girl of unknown origins like a child or a pet instead of an equal, and to never consider marrying her even when romantic potential was clearly there? Still, you'd think that even by 1830s standards, her sleeping on a cushion by his door would be seen as dehumanizing.

Of course it doesn't need to be either "the Prince does nothing wrong" or "the Prince is a self-absorbed jerk." It could also be that he's a good, warm-hearted person, but unfortunately has grown up in a classist, ableist, slave-owning environment that hasn't taught him to treat people like "the little mute foundling" as equals. Andersen might have meant to criticize class divides and ableism without meaning for us to dislike the Prince as a person.

This issue is complicated even further by the generally agreed-upon fact that the Mermaid is Andersen's gender-bent self-insert, and that the story is based (a) on his struggles to fit into upper class society despite his lowly birth, and (b) on his closet bisexuality and unrequited love for his friend Edvard Collin, the son of his patron. He's known to have sent Collin a copy of the story, though it seems that commentators disagree about whether it was meant as a "rebuke" or a "love letter."

I tend to like versions of the story where the the Prince is sympathetic and a true friend to the Little Mermaid, just not in love with her. Maybe that was Andersen's intent; after all, he and Edvard Collin stayed close friends throughout their lives, long after The Little Mermaid was published, and were even buried together.

But maybe he didn't mean it so kindly. Maybe at the time when he wrote the story, Andersen did feel dehumanized and toyed with by Collin, and by the upper class in general. Maybe we are supposed to blame the Prince for the tragedy, and maybe to portray him too sympathetically robs the story of its power.

I'm sorry for rambling on and on. But the Prince is a difficult character and it's no wonder that he's so divisive, or that adaptations tend to change his character drastically in some way or other.

How are we supposed to feel about him?

[darkaviarymc]

So why tf are you living with a zionist? And why tf did you get married to one in the first place?

I've gotten anons asking invasive questions about my relationship with Troy and why I have yet to end it, and I've deleted each one. I don't know if you're the same anon, but I'm guessing you follow me because my latest #aviisleaving post has no notes and was less than an hour old when I received this ask.

But.

Due to recent events in this fandom, abuse has become a spotlight topic. I don't know if I would call my marriage abusive or not. But whether or not it is, my situation and my reasons for staying in it for the time being is similar to what abusive victims face. There are many reasons not to leave, to bide your time before leaving, and to not be able to leave at the time or even at all, and I think it's an important discussion to have.

I'll start by explaining why I'm with him in the first place. We used to be closer ideologically. He wasn't always this far right and (this is where I make a confession that idk if I'm actually ready to make, but here we go) I wasn't always this far left. Seven years does a lot to change people, for better or worse. I was a left-leaning centerist, he was a right-leaning centerist, and we met in the middle to either compromise or peacefully agree to disagree.

We were both nerdy autistic weirdos with the same taste in music, same sense of humor, and enough ideologically in common to make peace. He got along well with my daughter and was quick to let me know that, if we ever got married, he'd consider her his kid as if she was his own.

I'm hyper-romantic. I see romance basically everywhere I look, and I fall in love hard and fast. He wasn't used to having a woman (my egg hadn't cracked yet, we'll get to that) who wasn't an absolute bitch be interested in him, so he fell harder than he ever had. We also both hated our situation at home, and I wouldn't pretend that wasn't a factor. We rushed the relationship and got married before we'd been together a year.

Everything changed for me when I realized I was queer.

I found the community I'd been denying for my whole life, and I learned a lot. He was an ally then. A flawed one, but he was willing to try. He was supportive of me when I came out, first as bisexual and then as nonbinary.

But everything changed for him when the wreck happened. He was driving with our mutual best friend in the front passenger seat when he lost control on black ice and slid into oncoming traffic. Our friend died at the scene, and Troy's injuries left him permanently disabled. He's since regained his independence, but he'll always struggle with his left arm.

We both took solace in our faith (I'd still consider myself a Christian, feel how you feel about that, I've heard it all) but he got lost in Christian Reddit, then Christian TikTok. Christian TikTok led to Evangelical TikTok, which led to transphobic, homophobic, MAGA, and zionist TikTok.

He ate that shit up. He fucking chugged that kool-aid. It gave him something besides himself to be angry at.

Grief opened my mind and closed his. It softened my heart and hardened his.

It just went downhill from there.

And now I can't live with this. I know he can't either, and the only reason he hasn't initiated a separation is because 1) there's no biblical grounds for divorce because I haven't cheated on him, and 2) he doesn't think a fat, autistic, disabled nerd in his 30s with a small dick and $30,000 in medical debt could ever find a godly wife. His words, not mine.

So if I want what's best for myself, my daughter, and yes, even for Troy, I need to be the one to leave.

So why haven't I yet?

First and foremost, money. We live in a society blah blah blah. Our society isn't friendly single mothers, queer people, or disabled people, and I'm about to be all three. I need to be 100% certain that I can support not only myself, but a high support needs autistic teen daughter who will likely never be able to live independently.

We currently only have one working vehicle, and aren't in a financial place to remedy that. I will need my own form of transportation if I'm going to be on my own.

All of my preparations (housing, transportation, moving logistics, etc) will have to be enacted quickly and perfectly. Surgical precision packing, moving, and stocking up on groceries so I don't have to leave the house for a while within 24 hours. Why? Because his family can't have any forewarning. I would not be safe. Currently, I'm not safe emotionally, but if I mess up even one step off the plan, if I'm not perfect in my exit strategy, I won't be safe physically, and neither will my daughter. I won't elaborate further on that.

Not only do I have to leave perfectly, but I have to be 150% positive months in advance that I can keep perfect. Because he has friends and family in places that could be dangerous for me, not the least of which is CPS. I fully expect to have them at my door by the end of the first month. I can't give them cause to take my daughter, even if it's the smallest, stupidest thing. Especially since they'll already have a small, stupid thing. Namely, my queerness and my disability.

Because I'm under no impression whatsoever that Troy won't out me to every single person who I can't safely be out to the instant he gets the chance. I will have no more help from (and possibly no contact with) my family. I will be completely alone. My support system will be gone forever. I have to be emotionally, mentally, and financially ready for that.

And I am none of those things right now.

And until I am, I have to do whatever I can to keep myself safe enough to bide my time for the right opportunity.

[weiryo]

Not A Chance 1.4 “Like a home, but not exactly.”

MATTHEW

“Like a home, but not exactly.”

“Lobsters pee through their faces.” I heard a familiar yet changed voice beside me. I looked up and saw a much taller version of my friend Oliver. The freshman boy smiled at me, clearly proud of his random fact. Oliver has always been a good kid. I feared what would happen to him once his first official year of high school ended, and hoped we could keep him out of the horrors that are the social prison of Upper Lake Academy.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked as I started walking, and he followed me.

Oliver shrugged, “Read it on Reddit.” He answered.

“Oli, stay off of there, that's the kind of shit that gives you mental illness.”

“Fair.” He muttered as he fidgeted with his sleeves, awkwardly trying to make himself look presentable. I couldn't help but smile at his behavior. The school would smell much better if only every freshman were as nice and hygienic as Oliver.

It did not take long for our stalker, Hira, to find us. She came up to us with an enthusiastic look. It was nauseating to see people seeming so ready for a new school year. She immediately ran to hug me tightly .“Matthew! Oli! Hey, how come you two didn't text me?” she asked curiously, smiling at her adopted brother, Oliver, and me.

“Didn't seem all that important,” I said jokingly with a smile. “Besides, you found us now. I'm sure you enjoyed having to search for us, looking around at everyone moving in?”

Hira nodded “Of course, there's nothing better than people watching, I saw so many new kids. I got to see Rain and this majestic new junior guy. Like when I say majestic, I mean majestic.” She said with a little too much passion.

Oliver snickered at her. “Mom said you can't stare at people anymore.” He teased, and Hira shot him a joking glare.

“Anyways” she continued “I finally got to switch to a new dorm building, I swear Crabapple is so gross and run down,” Hira complained while she walked alongside us. 

“Crabapple sounds like a disease, I like my building name better, Ponderosa Pine is just the most glorious name,” Oli mumbled while he not so discreetly opened Hira’s backpack and took out a juice pouch from her snack bag that their parents always packed for the two.

Hira shot him a glare which he visibly looked frightened of, but she didn’t take it from him “I know right, it’s so gross, at least Oli’s dorm building gets some fancy shit name.” She continued her tangent about how much she hated the dorms.

I finally got to escape her angry ranting about dorms once I found my dorm, River Birch, building 4, which strangely enough was the closest to the main building of the school. I waved goodbye and walked in, leaving Oliver with a desperate look that said Don’t leave me, please with the juice pouch straw still in his mouth as Hira kept dragging him along physically and in conversation. I rolled my eyes and made my way into the building for another year even walking through the halls, and looking at certain doors made me shudder deep deep deep inside my soul. Yet… It still felt like a home away from home, once you got to your dorm with your roommate whom you may or may not have quite a few exchanges that include quite a bit of oversharing, it’s pretty comforting. 

Now I’ve never really had bad roommate experiences at this boarding school, and I've been very lucky so far. All my issues have been with boys or girls who I’d rather die than share a room with, for different reasons. But when I walked into my dorm room, and saw it turned into a makeshift budget version of the Acropolium of Carthage I was slightly taken aback, now don’t get me wrong, love the Christians, Jesus was a pretty cool dude… But seeing a cross with a bloody Jesus figurine-looking thing felt like too much. I glanced over to the guy who was supposed to be my roommate this year. He was pretty cute, even though he looked like he was being drowned in sweat in his Sunday best button-up shirt. I stepped in and blinked a few times “Um so… You’re into the whole Gothic Cathedral style, that’s cool…” I very much attempted to make some humor out of this, he just glanced over at me with a judgemental look.

“I’m a Protestant. Not a Catholic.” He firmly corrected, as if being mistaken for Catholic was a very horrible insult to him.

“Right…” I mumbled in response, setting my duffle bag on my bed, “I’m Matthew Van Jaarsveld.

“Do your parents let you dye your hair like that?” He suddenly asked. No introduction, no nice to meet you, no nothing… I am just questioning my home life, as many good friendships start.

“Yeah… My parents are cool with it.” I answered, and his judgemental look only increased. Felt like a very familiar look. “Well, It’s my turn to ask you a question. What is your name?”

“Finnegan McCarthy.” He answered plainly as I held back my strong urge to burst out into laughter.

I nodded slightly, turning away so he couldn't see how much I wanted to laugh at his name. “Oh, cool. Well, I’m uh, gonna go for a walk.”

Of course, Finnigan looked at me strangely as I rushed out, but as I was out of sight, I began to snicker, until I looked up. A familiar boy with long black wavy hair and blue eyes that felt like a childhood home, staring directly at me, just a few feet away from me. Holy shit… Why was he here?

[darkmaga-returns]

Pepe Lives Matter

Oct 19, 2024

I just found out an alarming statistic showing that 49% of Evangelical Christians are claiming they are not going to vote in this election.

I am pleading for Christians to vote in this election.

This is appalling.

Christians are offended by Trump because he said a few bad words and his personality made them uncomfortable but when George Bush pretended to be a moral man while killing millions in the Middle East as a mass murderer, they were appeased. This is astonishing when you really break it down. The issue here is this: Many Christians don't realize that the people who are the most evil are the same exact ones pretending to be good, wholesome, and moral. But behind the scenes, they are beyond sick. You'd think they would be the ones to understand this given the Bible itself says that Satan appears as an angel of light. He doesn't always come to you and say, Yeah ‘I'm the bad guy and you must resist me.’ It's just mind-blowing to me that so many Christians can be spiritually dull to the war happening right in front of their eyes just because the mainstream media told them to hate Donald Trump. This is the same mainstream media that told them that the war in the Middle East was extremely moral (it massacred millions, never ended), that never asked a single question about Epstein Island, that covers up every sin the establishment makes without hesitation. It's no wonder they cannot see the Forest from the trees. They are being blinded to the truth. So Trump said a bad word or he didn't have the most moral life? So what? He took a bullet for this country, by a lone gunman whose origin the government is obviously covering up, the media persecuted him for years in a Russia collusion treason hoax, and he has put his life on the line to save the trajectory of this country. And if you've done extensive research like I and many people have these last eight years, he has been viciously fighting the sickest people I've ever had the displeasure of learning about. Trump is the bravest man I've witnessed and, to me, that is a moral characteristic worth a thousand fake politicians pretending to be on your side while secretly making deals, and backstabbing you behind the curtain. Courage is a character trait seldom found in today’s modern society, yet Trump has this in spades. I am appalled at how asleep the church can be if we have 49 percent of evangelicals not voting. These are the people who are supposed to believe in the spiritual forces of wickedness and God himself and yet they can't see that battle being waged right in front of their face because the corrupt politicians told them nice things and didn't send out a mean tweet. How can a Christian vote for unfettered abortion, and human sacrifice? It is unimaginable for someone who reads the verse in Jeremiah: I know the plans I have for you, I made you and formed you in the womb. And then vote for someone who wants sex changes for children and all you can access death. If it wasn't for Trump, Roe V Wade would have never even have fallen in the first place given he was able to implement Supreme Court Justices. But it's more than that. The people at the top of this system. They are telling you how nice they are while worshiping the very forces of darkness and 49% of Evangelical Christians do not seem to realize this.

If you expect all of the people God uses to be morally perfect, then you are gravely mistaken. It was David himself, who God said was a man after His own heart, who had many issues with women and flaws that held him down. Yet he was mighty, brave, and did spectacular things with God. I'm tired of Christians being so blind and I had to rant about this to someone. History is going to look fondly upon Donald Trump. He has been on a campaign to save this country from people so wicked, I don't even want to write down what kind of things they do in the dark here at this moment. So many of you already know the truth of this. But share this with an undecided Christian if you know one and perhaps it'll change their mind. You don't have to like Donald Trump's personality but you do need to wake up. I am pleading with the Christian population to vote and support the man who has been saving children like no President has in modern history.

Once you understand this, you cannot help but be moved. Please vote!

Added to Thread

Christians: We now know as a fact that Kamala Harris told rally goers who shouted, Jesus is Lord, that they were not welcome. This is a battle between good and evil. Wake up.

[meandering-reality]

Fear of fear of fear of fear, ugg get over it

When I finally stepped out from under the avalanche of rainbows and unicorns I had pulled over my eyes I realized that I feared death. Or at least that's how my over-thinking, anxiety riddled brain decided its thoughts on “where the heck am I doing with this info” led me.

Again, I wasn't raised religious. My mother was angry about being raised under my grandparents' religion and so she was an atheist. And while we didn't discuss it much, the emotions I picked up from her were always very bitter and angry about it.

My grandfather and great grandmother I always saw as it was a place to go on Sunday. Well scratch that for grandpa, there was always a game on. 

My grandmother however put her all into it. She sat down every day and studied the Bible as well. She never spoke to me about it either (I found out later that my mom had basically threatened to never let her see me again if she ever spoke about or took me to church). The one huge difference between the two is that my grandmother always felt like an angel to me.

Maybe it was a difference in personality. Or how they moved through the world. Perhaps age and experience as well. Whatever it was I look back at my childhood and see me being torn between my grandmother's love and my mother's lack of it.

I've had years to work on forgiveness. To realize she did the best she could with what she had. To hear stories of what an amazing and loving person she was. To find a way to love that kid I was. The one  that just wanted to feel like their mom loved them. To learn how to stick up for and protect that kid out of time.

All of these things lead into this cycle of 7 to 8 years of being flung back into a position where I feel like I've unlearned everything I worked on before. All coming to a head with the question what's going to happen to me when I die?

It's funny that oblivion never entered into the equation. It is more a fear of being alone, conscious and alone. I do have a spiritual belief, it's not as simple as saying I'm a Christian. It's also not as simple as saying I'm spiritual (why too many ideas and choices). I could narrow it by saying awakened but honestly that doesn't really narrow it much either.

I (when I'm not spiraling in all my unresolved crap) do believe in God, or creator or source or whatever word you want to use. I just don't believe in religious dogma. So where did that fear come from?

Especially since I've said to myself over and over that I'm not afraid to die. I'm not a fan of pain though so could we avoid that? The diagnosis just sent me into this twister of self hate, self doubt, mental self harm and it centered around my age and not feeling like I've done whatever I was supposed to do here.

Does anyone know that? A lot do, what about those of us that don't. There is a lot of emphasis put on following your path or purpose but not all paths are known. There is also a huge confusion with the earthly idea of purpose. They think of wealth being the goal. The mansion with 15 bedrooms, 20 baths and 4 pools (so small).

Your purpose could have just been to smile everyday. When we don't know it's easy to condem yourself for not doing it and then dying “bad”. Like I'm dying this young cause I've always been a fuck up. That's where my head went. That's when the fear set in. That's when I all of a sudden had the balls to start looking at things I wanted to do or change about myself and actually started.

For years I've had a victim (though I really learned to word it so it didn't sound like it) mentality about my relationship with anger. “This is what I learned from my mom”. Snap and scream. Twirling whirlwind thoughts that make it so when I walk away I can come back hours later and still be as angry and mean as I was before I went to “cool off”. 

It's a pattern that has kept me blissfully satisfied with what a horrible mess I am and why nobody should love me, I'm just not worth it. 

Aww a mother's love and teachings. Ha! I moved out at 18. This is hardly her doing at this point. It has much more to do with my belief in it. And instead of taking my grandmother's opposite words to heart I took the other and have struggled with so many deep dives into oblivion I can't count. I don't want to go there any more.

I know habits take a while to make and I've only just begun. Here's to taking a giant step towards the light and the love that awaits once I'm truly done with this incarnation. We've always been worthy of a beautiful afterlife, we just have to live it the best we can before we go.

Much love.

[freyabuckley00]

My Religion (and lack thereof) pt. 2

TW: religion, discussion of homophobia

For whatever reason, I had a hard time buying into what my church was selling. I heard them being racist, sexist, homophobic, and every hateful thing under the sun and I didn't want to be like that. Did I want God to love me? Absolutely. Did I want to suffer like Jesus the way they taught me to pray for? No.

When I was 8, I was watching TLC's Say Yes to the Dress with my grandmother. As the episode began, I remember hearing the manager speaking to the women looking for dresses and her saying "we've never styled two brides before!" and my grandma turned off the tv in disgust and said "I hate those homosexuals." I remember going to sit in the sunroom and staring at the prisms in the window catching the sunlight and making rainbows. I was 8, homeschooled, and not allowed to have friends outside of my church or my family. I had never heard of two brides. I was trying to understand, then I realized. They were marrying each other. I didn't know how to feel about it, so I talked to my cousin and at the time closest friend about it. She shrugged and said "I don't think it's that weird." and so I decided that I didn't think it was weird either.

That moment was the first time I realized I could have a different opinion than my family and my church. In a home where I had no other way to rebel, I rebelled with my thoughts instead. I decided that I was going to be apart of the "world," and that it was ok to love people "of this world." As I got older, I found things not ringing true in my head, that the words of the pastor didn't line up with what I read in my Bible. My parents tried their hardest to shelter me; I didn't have internet access until I was 16, and even then it was heavily monitored until I went to college. I still found my ways, though. But that's a story for a different post.

Now, in my 20s, I've learned so much about life and Christianity and other religions. When I left for college, I stopped going to church. Church of Christ felt lifeless and suffocating. When I visit home I go to a non-denominational church, and for a little bit I felt like I was regaining my love of God, but instead all that happened was I lost my fear of Him. I remember standing in church 2 years ago and singing about my love and reverence for God, and realizing that I felt nothing. Singing used to be the only way I "connected" with God. I didn't realize until that moment that I was connecting with the harmony and community of singing together.

In the absence of my fear of God, I had no love for Him or His word. he was just him. a god who held no power over me. I studied more religions to see if I felt drawn to anything, but I didn't. There are so many stories out there that have some key similarities and it makes me wonder if there is anything out there, but I don't think that's something that I have to understand.

The universe is so specific; we have such unique conditions that I think it probably could be intentionally created by something or someone, but I no longer feel the need to obsess over what that was. I have a difficult time wanting to follow a religious text because those were written by humans, translated by humans, and warped by humans. I don't think it's possible to have a full picture of any god, much less THE god, if there is one.

For me, god is karma, kindness, and nature. I feel at peace when I'm near water. I feel love and loved when I see people exchanging kindnesses for no other reason than to make the other feel loved. I feel justice when I know that as long as I put good into the world, that I will always be able to find the good given back to me.

For me, that is enough.

[leonbloder]

Learning To Practice What We Preach

There was a quote that was circulating on social media this past week that popped up on several of my feeds.  

It was hard to figure out who originated the quote, but more than a few of my friends and fellow pastors on social media posted it and shared it with me.  

One clue I uncovered led me to believe that the author was still a Christian, despite what they wrote and had found refuge in a loving, welcoming, and accepting faith community.  

Despite the mysterious origin, there are some hard truths in this quote that those of us who call ourselves Christians need to hear: 

You told me to love my enemies, to even do good to those who wish for bad things. You told me to never “hate” anyone and to always find ways to encourage people.  You told me it’s better to give than receive, to be last instead of first. You told me that Jesus looks at what I do for the least-of-these as the true depth of my faith. You told me to focus on my own sin and not to judge. You told me to be accepting and forgiving. I paid attention. I took every lesson. And I did what you told me. But now, you call me a libtard. A queer-lover. You call me “woke.” A backslider. You call me a heretic. A child of the devil. You call me soft. A snowflake. A socialist. What the hell did you expect me to do? I thought you were serious, apparently not. 

Some euphemisms in that quote might be triggering, but remember that the speaker is simply parroting what they have heard people say about them. 

The fact of the matter is, even in the fundamentalist Baptist churches I grew up in, I learned the beautiful things the speaker refers to from some of my Sunday school teachers, youth pastors, and even a few lead pastors.  

It wasn't like they spent every moment teaching and preaching, railing against sin and the evils of liberalism, even though it felt like it at times. 

There were good, sweet people among those who taught me.  People who wanted to live their lives in grace and kindness, following Jesus' examples.  

They might have been caught up in a tradition that embraced terrible and exclusive theology and enabled leaders to speak out of both sides of their mouths, but their desire was to love as Jesus loved.  

As I write, I think about a few of these loving people and am grateful for them.  

I learned those lessons. I paid attention. I read my Bible from cover to cover at least three times before I was 15. I memorized Scripture. I listened. I wanted all those beautiful things about my faith to be true.  

But I couldn't reconcile those lessons with what happened when I began questioning the other things I was taught and the negative examples I saw within the churches I attended.  

I've had my fair share of the negative characterizations in the above quote lobbed at me by people who call themselves Christians, both then and now. 

I forgive them all, not because I am wonderful, but because I know how much grace I need. I also know that sometimes, the people who say those kinds of things are the most complicated people for me to love.  

And if I truly follow Jesus, I must love and pray for them.  (that was hard to write)

Here's a challenging thing to consider: We are doing our best. Every one of us. 

We might not be doing what we are most capable of, but we are doing our best considering our circumstances, foibles, weaknesses, influences, and fears.  

Keeping this in mind helps us have compassion and grace for those with whom we disagree and compassion for ourselves when we don't get things right. 

But I also believe the following, and it gives me great hope:

Ultimately, Christ will find a way to restore and reform  Christianity into something that best resembles all those beautiful things in the above quote.  I have faith in this despite all the evidence to the contrary.  

We should also do everything we can to teach what it means to love as Jesus loves and practice it.  

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen.  

[clinicallyinvisible]

Something that really messed me up as a kid was listening to my mother hate herself.

She hated her body. Always saying she was fat and her boobs were too small and that she wanted implants one day (never happened). She also expressed dislike about my appearance to me. My posture and my acne were big ones. I was taught to hate my appearance because my mother hates her appearance and disliked mine. I look just like her. I always have. If you put a photo of me next to a photo of my mother at the same age we look like the same person. So to listen to her be so vocal about hating how she looks was so fucking damaging to me. And I don't know how she couldn't have realized that. I don't understand how she didn't see that by hating herself she was teaching me to do the same. She always treated me like an extension of herself, wanting me to do the things she wanted to do, but couldn't. She always pushed me to do things like be a nurse (no) and to marry a nice Christian boy (no) and have a bunch of babies (NO). She also never cared to get to know me because she had this version of me she had created in her head and she was still trying to mold me into that. She refused to accept that I wasn't and would never be that person and that I am my own person. She has refused to get to know the real me.

I have wanted so badly to have a real relationship with my parents, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I am too many of the things they hate. They are too full of hate. I just crave love and they don't want to offer that to me unless I be what they want me to be. I am not valuable to them as the person I am.

My parents are getting older. And I'm terrified of losing them, I'm terrified of them dying. Because I don't have a relationship with them at the moment and I want one so bad. And if they go before we fix things (if we fix things) I think it might ruin me a little. I just want so so badly to have my family back and to be loved by them. Right now I don't see it ever happening and that hurts a lot. My mother doesn't care, tho, if I'm hurting. She's made it clear that her feelings are the only ones that matter. I have to sacrifice mine in order to have a relationship with them and I'm just not willing to do that.

Idk why I'm thinking about this today, but I am and it sucks. Maybe because Kristy and I were taking about family the other day and we talked about how found family just isn't the same support system as blood family and I guess that really resonated with me.

My dad is getting closer and closer to the age his dad was when he passed away and I guess it's making me afraid of losing out on that relationship. Losing grandpa was already hard enough tbh. I never got to know him properly. I don't want it to be the same with my dad. But my parents are not kind people. And god that sucks. I am so so envious of everyone that can have a half decent relationship with their parents. I yearn for it so badly.

I'm afraid to talk to them because of all this stuff lately in the media about trans people being targeted. I don't want to hear what they have to say about it. I know it's going to be bad. I know it's going to be so so disgusting and bad. And they still don't know I'm nonbinary and honestly I don't know if I ever wanna explain it to them. I mean, I'd love to be able to come out and for them to use my new name, but I know they won't understand and they will refuse to use my name and pronouns. They will always call me she and they will always deadname me. I know there is no point and no hope for them.

My sister is also queer, but somehow she tolerates them. I don't understand how. Probably because she's the golden child and can do no wrong by them and she is so perfect. She gets treated so much better than I ever have by them so I guess she isn't as bothered by it, but I have received basically no decent treatment from them my whole life. I've always felt like a burden and a failure to them. It's funny how my sister and I have had such contrasting childhoods and experiences with our parents.

[srslylini]

to be fair I also hate simple hate. Sounds dumb, is logical. Mostly hate like this isn't born out of the need to criticize what is infront of someone but because of weird views.

Disliking something is always okay, where that stops is simply using said dislike to be weird, also hope this makes sense.

Here is my stuff. I love Arcane. I literally have an entire page dedicated to it, I still have Sevika as my pfp, I very obviously do not hate it. I stand in a place of disappointment and criticism with how Christian Linke and Amanda Overton especially handled season 2. I've seen videos going full on critic on season 2 that I found incredibly weird (some dude weirded me out so bad I swear)

So. I get it. I do.

I also agree that Arcane did push said limits successfully. In season 1. Season 2 missed the mark spectacularly. Though I think act 1 of season 2 still set up a lot of things in a good way, the fact that those things just either weren't addressed, thrown away or forgotten is weird. Though again, agreed with your take on what makes storytelling hard. The thing is in storytelling there is a god. As odd as that sounds

the god is the person creating the story, meaning that what happens is actually something that can be narrated as opposed to what happens for us humans in real life.

That's why calling CaitVi abusive can sound strange to people for "the creators said it only happened once and never again". Because that's the thing, the creators can say that. It is odd and misunderstanding how abuse works, but they can say it and make it canon. And that isn't a thing that only happened in Arcane, for some reason a lot of media creators do this. Why? I don't know.

Especially cause that doesn't work irl. And I think understanding that works for the critics as well as the people praising, if that makes sense. What they did there was an odd choice that leaves criticism and praise in a limbo because "the creators said" but "abuse works this way". The creators said it didn't happen again so generally speaking it isn't abuse but it did happen and in real life there isn't a creator who can say "it'll never happen again" so creators misunderstanding and using this wrong is weird and needs to exist as a take as well.

again I think season 1 did this well, especially with the dynamic between Silco and Jinx. Silco definetly loved Jinx and saw her as a daughter, and that didn't take away from how he still wasn't a good person and not a good influence on her etc. I also think what they did with Caitlyn in act 1 of season 2 was good. Not in a sense that I think it was positive but that it made sense for her.

They just weirdly enough didn't use that set up and that's what weirds me out and makes me say season 2 is just ugh, especially compared to season 1. Had they actually had the guts to make Caitlyn and CaitVi toxic, and I'll die on this hill, we and I especially wouldn't be here in this specific discussion because it'd make a lot more sense.

also thanks for acknowledging that using "nazi" in such circumstances is maybe odd, usually I'd also have to fight people here haha. But same, I also love history and true as of today there are similarities in what happens (it is insane here in germany right now) just not in fandom like this, it's just a very hard word that gets thrown around a lot when it shouldn't (though definetly don't stop calling out actual fucking nazis. they deserve nothing else.)

"Caitlyns redemption arc isn't very good."

Maybe she doesn't have a redemption arc.

May be Arcane isn't about redemption.

May be Arcane is about flawed characters who are neither good nor bad.

May be Arcane is a show that shows us that good people can do horrible things and how our society and the people we have or don't have as support can shape that.

Good people can become horrible. Not because it is innate within them. But because of their life experiences.

[kateyes224]

Independence Day

A/N: Fourth of July fluff and nonsense, inspired by some anons I’ve gotten recently about whether Mulder is capable of giving Scully a meaningful gift.  Timeline:  Post-IWTB, Pre-Revival

Mulder knocks on her door and goes to straighten his tie before he remembers he’s not wearing one.  Hasn’t worn one in years.  He tries not to fidget, suspecting she may be eyeing him through her peephole, but he ends up shifting back and forth on his feet the longer it takes her to answer the door.  

He triple-guesses his outfit for the eighteenth time that night, and berates himself for it, feeling ridiculous for feeling ridiculous.

He hears her soft, even footfalls as she approaches the door, then a long moment of silence. She is peeping.

When she opens the door, her apartment seems to exhale at the exact same moment he does.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Scully.”  Scully in her angular new suits and jewel-toned scrubs seems a completely separate being from this creature.  This woman’s hair is pulled up and away from her face and off her neck.  She’s wearing a sky-colored sweater that deepens the blue of her eyes to a dark violet in the low light, and jeans that he knows for a fact have been worn in from years of washing in hard water. He’d washed them a few dozen times himself. She’s hardly wearing a stitch of makeup.

Fuck losing nine minutes.  For a moment, he thinks he might have lost a quarter of a century.  “You look good.”

She knows. Blushes anyway.

“Thanks.  You look pretty good yourself.”

“Ladies always love a man in a polo.”

He keeps his eyes trained on hers, deliberately not looking over her shoulder.  I need a space of my own, Mulder, she’d said, a little over a year ago now.  He’d hated her for it then but he’d respected it just the same.  He still hates it, and he still respects it.  He doesn’t want to taint it by seeing it without her say-so.

“Would you like to come in for a minute?” A polite and completely insincere invitation.  She hadn’t even wanted him to pick her up tonight, he reminds himself.

“Nope, I think we can just go.  Otherwise we’ll be late.”

She looks cautious, but grabs her purse and her jacket from the table by the front door.  “Late?  I thought we were just going to grab dinner?”  

Mulder waits while she turns to close the door.  Her old housekey for their country home jangles on her keyring next to the one she uses to lock up.  

He doesn’t have a key for her new place.  

“We are going to grab dinner.  But I have a surprise later tonight and we’ve got to get a move on or else we’ll miss it.”

She makes a show of slowing and sighs audibly, predictably skeptical and apparently willing to play her old part for old time’s sake.

He walks her out to the pickup truck and circles to her side, opening it for her and handing her in.  She chuckles. “Mulder, you’ve never been this solicitous. What have you got planned? Not another haunted house, I hope.”

Closing her door, he smiles down at her through the half-closed window.  “You know I only save those for Christmas, Scully.”

He drives them back out of town the same way he came, threading his way from interstate to highway to two-lane country road before stopping to pick up dinner. She smiles when he pulls in front of her favorite barbecue joint and hops out of the truck to pay for a couple of messy brisket sandwiches dripping in tangy sauce and wrapped in foil and white styrofoam containers of coleslaw and baked beans.  Two thick slices of cornbread are immediately set upon by Scully when he returns to the truck, and he laughs and slaps her hands away.

The sound of her giggle bouncing around the cab of the truck before it’s snatched out the window and into the night air nearly wipes the smirk right off of his face. He’d been almost sure he’d never be able to make her laugh again.

Another twenty miles past the house he’s still trying to think of as his and not theirs and he pulls off the main road and into a dirt lot that is already filled with cars.  They’re a few hundred yards from where the local high school campus sprawls out in the dark.  Mulder grabs a blanket from the bed of the truck and ties the handles of the plastic bag of food into bunny ears. At her questioning look, he nods in the direction of the football field glowing under floodlights in the distance. Smells and sounds from booths selling all manner of deep-fried food, kettle corn, and funnel cake waft towards them in the heavy July air.

A dunk tank, a pony ride, and a small petting zoo are set up in the home team’s end zone.  An emu is being walked around on a leash, to the delight and horror of many small children.  And just beyond that, a wooden stage and dance floor. A band of morose young teens is going about the serious business of setting up their equipment, plugging guitars into amplifiers and strumming chords that twang offkey.

The lead singer and DJ, a girl with a shock of a bright turquoise pixie cut, stands in front of the speakers and clicks around on her laptop in the meantime. The dance floor is almost full with couples swaying back and forth to an unpredictable mix of R&B and country.  Children of all ages dart in between them in an endless game of tag.

“Mulder, what are we doing here?”

Mulder keeps walking just beyond the stage where other families have set up their own circles of chairs and picnic blankets.  He makes a show of unfurling the Navajo blanket on the ground, smooths the wrinkles before setting the plastic bag of food in the center.  “Just make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Some funnel cake? We have about twenty minutes before the show.”

Scully crosses her arms and stares up at him. “Mulder,” she repeats, “what are we doing here?” She sounds, for all intents and purposes, like she’s just surveyed a crime scene and found it conspicuously lacking in what he’d once half-ironically referred to as a distinct paranormal bouquet.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Mulder asks, blinking down at her, and he nearly chokes on the question like a popcorn kernel has lodged itself in the back of his throat when he remembers that no, she probably doesn’t.  Not anymore.  Mulder shakes his head when it takes her a second too long to answer. “Don’t worry, Doc. Have a seat, I’ll go grab us a drink.”

Scully purses her lips at him and glances over her shoulder as the band strikes up a rousing, if overly-metal, rendition of Yankee Doodle.  “Hurry back,” she murmurs, then bends to sit cross-legged on the blanket and starts untying the plastic bag.

Mulder hustles off, taking a wide berth around a game of cornhole to where a keg and a cash booth have been set up.  He pays $10 for two light beers in red Solo cups and turns, almost knocking over a man and his wife in their late 30s.  

“Mr. Scully?” the young man asks, hesitant.

 Mulder sputters, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his beer.

“Uhhhh, no, I’m Fox Mulder. Dr. Scully is my…” Shit.  This was always the hard part.  “...my partner.”  It’s never not been true.  “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Fearon?”

The young man nods and glances at his wife, who smiles up uncertainly at Mulder.  They both turn. Behind them sits a boy in a wheelchair. “And this is Christian.”

Christian is pale, with huge, almond-shaped blue eyes and a tangle of messy brown hair.  He’s got a crocheted afghan tucked around his legs and a beanie on his head despite the humid July heat, but two rosy spots color his cheeks, belying a fragile bloom of health.

Mulder smiles down at him, bends to look into the boy’s eyes.  “Hi, Christian.  My name is Mulder. I’m a friend of Dr. Scully’s. She’s been wondering about you.”

Christian’s eyes crinkle, a grin lighting up his face. “I’ve been wondering about her, too.”

Mulder leads the way back over to where Scully is sitting on their blanket, the Fearons following slowly but surely behind him. Just as he calls out to Scully and she turns, the lights around the makeshift fairground all dim simultaneously, leading to whoops and hollers and lascivious catcalls.  In the dark, Mulder settles in on the blanket next to Scully and hands her a beer.

“Mulder, who was with-”

“Shhhh, Scully,” Mulder whispers, just as the band gets going with Ray Charles’ version of America the Beautiful. The drummer starts military cadence on the drums and the teen girl with the turquoise hair starts belting out the first verse in a honeyed alto.

Oh beautiful, for heroes proved, In liberating strife, Who more than self, our country loved, And mercy more than life

Just as the chorus gets going, the first pops and whistles of fireworks start echoing from a couple of hundred yards down the way.  The crowd draws in a collective gasp as blue and green and red and white sparks erupt overhead.

Scully’s eyes are trained on the sky for a long moment before she turns back to Mulder.  The wide smile on her face lights over him just as the next round of fireworks explode in a shimmer and a pop of noise. But her eyes slip past him and catch sight of the profile of the young boy who was trailing in Mulder’s wake. Christian’s hands are planted firmly over his ears, transfixed by the showers of color blazing overhead.

“Christian?” Mulder sees her mouth silently before looking up at him, confused.

Mulder bends close to her ear, loud enough that she can hear over the gunshot blast of the next round of fireworks.

“Last week, you got a voicemail at the house from his new treating physician, a Dr. Rajkumar. She thought you’d want to know...he’s been doing well enough as result of your treatment plan that his parents were going to take him to see the fireworks this year.”

Scully can’t seem to tear her gaze away from the boy’s face. His eyes, saucer-wide, haven’t left the sky, and his smile can’t get any bigger.  

Mulder watches Scully watching Christian for the next ten minutes, as the fireworks and the band get louder and more intense.  When the final crescendo and the finale culminate above them, she looks up at Mulder, whispers her thanks, and wraps an arm around his waist.

As she settles into a spot that feels more comfortable than it should for going without the weight and shape of her for so long, he hopes she feels free, if only for tonight.

[thebreakfastgenie]

🌻🌻🌻 (IDK how serious it was lol)

So today I've been fondly reminiscing about my terror campaign in 9th grade US History. At the time my school did this thing where they split AP US History over two years and you took the exam at the end of 10th grade. Yeah, I don't know. Anyway this was supposed to be an AP class.

Our teacher sucked and I was, basically, bored, and hadn't been in traditional school for some years, and also basically considered history teachers to be my equals because they were all my dad's coworkers.

We did our chapter tests on scantron sheets and he didn't want to print enough question packets for both classes (which, hey! saving trees is noble!) but the problem was he thought if the first class wrote on the test in any way it would somehow give the second class a clue. So he told us "do not write on the test." He never really explained this reasoning, it was just something I figured out, and I felt he was really annoying about it. I also think crossing out answer choices, underlining words, circling questions you want to come back to, etc are all good test-taking skills that are literally encouraged on AP exams so just flat out telling students not to do it isn't good. So I wrote on every single test out of protest. He knew it was me because on the final exam, after everyone was done, he came up to me with my test booklet and an eraser and made me clean it up. I don't know why because it didn't matter at that point??

Another time the clock broke and he didn't want to get it replaced and also I think he was mad that we all spent so much time looking at the clock wanting to leave his boring ass class. So he put up a sign that said "Time will pass. Will you?" A few days later we had a test. Note that I always turned my tests in with tons of time to spare. I was usually the first one done. But I said "how are we supposed to practice good test-taking skills if we can't see how much time we have left?" He glared daggers at me but he put up a digital clock on the smart board.

He also had this policy that if you convinced him a question was bad he'd throw it out and adjust the score by giving everyone in the class an additional point. I took this as a challenge. I'd go to the floor arguing with him about questions I had no trouble understanding and had gotten right. I don't think there was a single test we didn't get at least one additional point on. Most of them we got two or three. Classmates would come up to me and say "Sarah that test was rough. You're going to get us an extra point, right?"

He also assigned us these study guides and we were supposed to fill out a few questions each day but without exception we did them all the night before they were due. He knew we were doing this and hated it but couldn't stop us. Finally very late in the school year when it no longer mattered, we were looking at a picture of child laborers from the industrial revolution, and he told us those kids would love a chance to do study guides. I said "great they can have ours then" but the real coup was a kid in the next class (who I had Issues with but in this moment he was good) saying, completely straight faced "they were most likely illiterate."

In addition to the study guides which we were already not doing he forced us to do Cornell two-column notes whether we found them helpful or not. We complained so much and turned in what was so obviously the bare minimum designed to get the points that the next year he made the notes optional. We broke that man and I was the leader. He deserved it; he was a conservative Christian with a sign that said "God first, others second, myself third" in his public school classroom. He also said male teachers do it to support their families and female teachers do it for fun.

Also the entire time this was happening I was telling my mom all about it and she was encouraging me.

[enthusiasticharry]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i feel like i've been waiting years for this to happen when it has only been a few months or so but here it is! feels like home is finally here and i couldn't be more excited. this fic is literally like my child, just like checkmate was, but it does hit closer to home because there are some subjects and topics discusses that are things that happened to me or close to me, so i feel as though i have to protect it with my entire life. but please, do enjoy this not so brief introduction to feels like home, christian and luisa and their little world.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, mentions of anxiety, depression and heavy injury. mentions of a car crash.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐄 here

“Christian!” The sound of her name rings through the entire Bed and Breakfast with how loud her sister screams it.

“What?”

“Have you seen my phone?” Christian sighs, leaning over the table that she was sat at to grab Luisa’s phone that was on the other side, holding it out for her sister. Luisa manoeuvres her wheelchair to the side of the table, “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Christian mutters, leaning her chin back onto the palm of her hand as she scrolls through the Lodge’s booking system.

The booking system, apart from a few weekend bookings from the odd elderly couple, was completely empty. September was always quite a slow time of the year for the Lodge, and the sisters had found that out the hard way last year, during their first year of being open, when nobody booked anything for the entire month. From what Christian remembers, there were only two walk-in customer’s during the month and they only stayed for a night or so. The fact that they only had two bookings didn’t cause her to worry as much as she did the year prior though, because they had just had the biggest summer that they could ever imagine, and it was only their second year of fully being in business.

It had always been Luisa Flores’ dream to own her own Bed and Breakfast, but Christian had never, ever thought that she would be right beside her when she did it, but, she wouldn’t change it for the world now — she really wouldn’t.

Four years ago the sisters were coming home in the back of a taxi after going out for the night with their friends. They were drunk, but they weren’t driving and they never would whilst intoxicated, but they soon found out halfway through their journey that not everyone is the same. The driver hit the taxi that the Flores sisters were in on the right side as they drove through a junction, and completely destroyed Luisa and the driver’s side of the car. Christian doesn’t remember much from the accident apart from seeing a flashing light from the right side of her and then waking up in a hospital bed with her neck in a neck brace.

All she could think about was whether or not her sister was alive, and when none of the doctors would answer her Christian felt her entire world crumble around her. Even when her parents came, all they had been told was that Luisa had been rushed into emergency surgery and a doctor would be with them after to explain what was going on. Whilst they were waiting, Christian’s doctor came in and explained that she was going to have a scan and some x-rays to check that everything was alright with her. The results came back that Christian had three broken ribs and that her right arm had been fractured in three different places, but apart from that it was all cuts and bruises and she would make a full recovery.

Luisa, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Due to the car hitting them on her side, it had done unimaginable damage that Christian could only wish to take away from her sister. Luisa had lost one of her legs in the accident and lost all movement in the other, causing her to be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. It changed their lives forever, and all Christian could ever think was that she should’ve sat on that side, not her sister.

If the accident did anything to their family, it brought them closer together. They had been talking one night whilst watching Gossip Girl for the thousandth time and Christian had brought up that when they were younger, all Luisa would ever talk about was owning her own Bed and Breakfast in the Lake District. At first, Luisa had dismissed the idea and said that it wouldn’t ever work because of her wheelchair and not being able to walk but if anything, it actually meant that Christian had more of a fire up her arse to make it happen for her sister. A lot of the things that Luisa wanted to do with her life she couldn’t anymore, but this thing, with Christian’s help, she could do.

They found the building that Little Lodge is now in a few months after deciding that they were going to start up their Bed and Breakfast and with help from their parents, they managed to get a deposit down and also managed to get themselves a mortgage. Before they knew it, they were opening their own little Bed and Breakfast.

It was a stressful experience at first, and Christian can’t lie and say that it isn’t stressful a lot nowadays as well, but it was certainly worse at the beginning. The majority of the time, Luisa did the front of house and Christian did everything else because it was just easier for the two of them and the dynamic of the Lodge. There was the odd time that the two of them would change their roles just to fit the situation but that was usually it. Christian loved the dynamic that they had created in Little Lodge more than anything else in her life. It was her new home, and she would never give it up, never.

“Have you heard anything from mamá about abuela?” Luisa asks after a few minutes or so, closing her phone and dropping it down onto her lap.

“No.” Christian shakes her head, swirling in the desk-chair that she was sat in so that she was facing her older-sister, “Mamá said that she’d message if there were any updates but I haven’t heard anything. Papá said that they’re still waiting for the scan results.”

“That’s shit.” Luisa adds and Christian nods her head, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “She had the scan hours ago, didn’t she?”

“Papá said that abuela went in for the scan at around six this morning, and they’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing yet.”

Christian sighs and shrugs her shoulders whilst Luisa shakes her head. Christian and Luisa’s abuela still lived in Seville, where their mother is originally from and she had recently started to get quite sick so their parents decided that it was probably best that the two of them go and visit her for an extended amount of time whilst she had tests done and they figured out what was wrong with her. It was nerve-wracking for the girls, that they weren’t able to be with her family and check that their abuela was okay but they couldn’t leave the Lodge, and they just hoped that their abuela understood that.

“Ay Dios mio.” Luisa shakes her head again, “Mamá must be going out of her mind.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” Christian shrugs, “We’ve all seen how bad she’s gotten over the past few years. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a suspicion that it isn’t going to be the best news.”

“Christian!” Luisa raises one of her eyebrows as she looks at her younger sister, “Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive.”

Christian raises one of her eyebrows at her sister, “Positive? I’m just telling the truth, Lu.”

“I know you are.” Her sister pushes again, “But don’t you go saying that to mamá, that might be the end for her.”

“Like I would.” Christian leans forward and thumps her sister on the shoulder, but composes herself when she notices the last couple that they have staying in the Lodge for the summer make their way to the desk to check out. Luisa raises one of her eyebrows at Christian, who just responds to her sister with a roll of her eyes.

As the couple walk towards the front of the desk, Christian swivels around in her chair so that she’s facing the front again and offers them a large smile, “Morning, how are you both? Did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you.” The man responds walking over and placing the keys to their room down on the counter, “Sad to be leaving, that’s for sure.”

“We’re sad to see you go, too.” Christian offers them a sad smile whilst she tries to find their booking on the system, “But I’m sure we’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah, you certainly will.” The man laughs and Christian nods her head.

Christian sends their receipt to print and holds her hand out, waiting for the sheets to come out. Once they have, she staples their version together, and the Lodge’s versions together and opens them to the page they need to sign and passes them a pen.

“Can you sign on the dotted line and date, please?” She asks and the man nods, “It’s just a confirmation of payment and then you’ll get another one when we’ve cleaned the room and sent your deposit back.”

The man nods and signs the two pages before passing them back to Christian. She finishes the process and then gives them their receipt and wishes them a good day and safe travel. That was the last couple to leave the Lodge, and that meant that Summer was officially over and that they wouldn’t see as many customers as they had in a long time, probably not until October Half-Term when all of the schools in England broke up for a week. Once the door had closed behind them, Christian turned back to her sister who was looking at her with a silly smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten better at that, you know?” Luisa says, moving forward so that she can slip underneath the desk with Christian, “You stuttered so much when we first opened.”

“That’s just ‘cos I was nervous.” Christian shrugs, “I didn’t want to fuck it up. Now, I don’t care. I don’t think I can fuck anything up.”

“Uh, let's agree to disagree with that one. There’s still things that you’d be able to fuck up. You get too nervous and word-vomit.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, Lu. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey.” Luisa knocks Christian’s shoulder with hers, “What are sisters for?”

As far as a sibling relationship went, Christian and Luisa were as close as sisters could be. This had been both before and after the accident. There were only two years between them, and Christian sometimes wondered whether or not it was how close the two of them were in age that meant they were so close. They would do everything together when they were younger, and of course they had arguments and fought at little things that didn’t matter but at the end of the day they were still sisters. That was certainly one of the reasons why they made it through sorting out the Lodge without killing each other, because Christian doesn’t believe they’ve ever argued as much as they did when they were trying to sort the Lodge out, but they made it through without actually hitting one another which is better than they could say for before the accident.

They were minding their business when the computer pinged. It was loud, and it caused the two of them to sit up and stare at the screen with their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that—?” Luisa asks.

“— I don’t know.” Christian leans forward and places her hand on the mouse, moving so that she could close the tab that she had opened and move to the booking-system app, which had been the one to make the noise.

“Has someone booked?” Luisa looked just as confused as Christian was and when she looked at the system, she saw that someone had actually booked.

As Christian flickered her eyes over the booking her mouth parted open in shock, “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Luisa moves closer to Christian and focuses her eyes on the screen, “Ay Dios mio.”

Not only had someone booked in September of all months, but they had booked for the entire month. At first Christian thought that her eyes had been deceiving her and that this wasn’t the case at all. The more that she looked at the booking, the more that she realised that it was real and someone actually had booked to stay at their Lodge in the month of September.

“Holy Fuck.” Christian couldn’t help the profanities as they slipped from her lips, then parting in shock when she finally read the full confirmation.

Christian had expected to see that the booking would be for a few days, probably three at most, but when she saw that it was for the entire month. The entire fucking month, she felt her heart stop. Whoever this person was, H.Styles as the booking says, wanted to come and stay at their Lodge for the entire month. The most they’ve ever had was a week before, and that was during the height of summer when the kids were off school. To say that the two sisters were in shock would certainly be an understatement.

“Is this a joke?” Luisa asks, obviously just as dumbfounded as Christian at what she was looking at, “This can’t be real.”

“It looks like it.” Christian starts to scroll through the information that had been given, “The email, card. Everything.”

“You search him on Insta, I’ll do Facebook.”

Christian immediately takes her phone out and opens Instagram, typing in H.Styles to see if anything comes up, but it doesn’t. No matter how much Christian scrolls through all of the profiles that come up from the search as well. At the same time, one of these profiles could be of the person coming to stay at their Lodge in the next few days, Christian just didn’t know. After she closed her phone and placed it face down on the table, she looked up at Luisa who had her face too close to the screen of her own phone as she looked at something.

“Think you’ve found him?” Christian asks, leaning over her sister's shoulder to look at the profile that she was on.

“I don’t know.” Luisa mumbles, passing her phone to her sister, “Maybe this could be him.”

The profile that Luisa showed her sister was one of the profiles that look as if they aren’t used at all, but it’s actually just because they have a private account. The profile picture looked to be of a man, maybe around Christian’s age, or maybe Luisa’s but they couldn’t tell because the photo only showed the side of his face. From what Christian could also tell, the photo seemed to have been taken in a museum of some sort, and it looked almost serene.

“Could be.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose we’ll know in two days.”

Luisa sighs and drops her head back, “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.”

“Shut it.” Christian shakes her head, thwacking her sister on the shoulder, “Have a little patience. Why do you care anyway?”

“Well excuse me for being curious on who the person is who’s going to feed us in September and October.” Luisa shakes her head before moving herself backwards, “I’m going to check some things with Yani, are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, giving her a small smile, “Have fun. Let me know if you hear anything about abuela.”

“Same to you.”

Christian gives her sister one last smile as she ventures back inside and towards the kitchen, before she places her attention back onto the booking in front of her. This was certainly going to be one for the record books, whether Christian and Luisa knew that yet or not.

As Christian sat drinking the coffee that she had made herself a few minutes prior, she quickly realised that it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at a time like this.

Christian’s social anxiety certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it still wasn’t the best. Christian’s mother has said from her being a young child that she can talk for England if it’s to someone who she knows and trusts, but the second that it’s to someone who she doesn’t know and doesn’t feel comfortable with, she’s nervous and awkward and will only speak if she’s spoken to. The accident certainly didn’t help, and for a while Christian only spoke to her family and doctors but she bounced back from that quicker than anyone could have imagined, and she guessed that was because of Little Lodge and how it brought Christian out of her comfort zone.

Just because Christian was better than she had been, it certainly didn’t mean that she was completely cured because that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. She would still fumble on her words, albeit not as much as she used to, but it would still happen. More often than not Christian wouldn’t speak unless she was spoken to and she tries her hardest to stay away from social situations that she knew would stress her out, because that wasn’t good for anyone.

One of the little worries that she had picked up since opening the Lodge, though, was whenever they had somebody book online and Christian wasn’t distracted enough to not think about it, that would be all that she would think about. Sometimes she would get herself into some quite horrible states worrying about the types of people that were going to walk through their doors, but Christian had to remind herself that speculation isn’t the right thing to do and that she can’t let herself worry like that unless that is actually something to worry about — obviously that doesn’t mean she completely stops doing it.

That was one of the reasons why Christian hadn’t slept at all last night, and why when she woke up this morning she felt the need to make herself a large cup of coffee. The only thing was that the more caffeine that the girl drank, the more that her heart started to beat faster within her chest. At this moment in time, Christian didn’t know if it was more nerves or excitement that H.Styles was arriving today.

“You look like death.” Luisa says, as she stops her chair in front of the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too, Luisa.” Christian says sarcastically, lifting her eyes up from the screen to look directly at her sister, “Did you sleep well? Are you excited for today? How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” She shakes her head and places her hands on the desk, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“As you lovingly pointed out, I look like death, so no, I didn’t.” Christian explains, unable to stop herself from letting out a large yawn.

“You need to sleep, Chris.” Luisa shakes her head, “I get that you worry but it certainly isn’t worth losing sleep over.”

“I know.” Christian offers her sister a small smile, “I’m not gonna be able to ever stop doing it, I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Luisa nods her head, “And I’m sure you know that I’m going to keep telling you that you look like death.”

Christian grins, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Luisa’s phone pings before she can say anything else, and Christian knows that it’s probably time for her to leave. Luisa and her girlfriend, Elsa, have had this day planned as their date day for a long time, and Christian wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of their day.

Luisa and Elsa have been together for three years now. They met when Luisa went away to Sweden for a few weeks with her friends from school. Elsa had been visiting her family and they met through a confusing line of mutual friends that Christian had very little interest in learning about. All Christian cared about was that her sister was happy, and if Elsa was the person to do that then that was all Christian wanted in life. When the accident happened, Luisa had been worried that Elsa wouldn’t want to be with her anymore, and no matter how many times Christian reassured her sister that Elsa wouldn’t do that and that she loved her, Luisa just believed that wasn’t the case. As Christian had reassured her sister, Elsa didn’t leave. In fact, Elsa did everything that she could to help Luisa.

For Christian, Luisa and Elsa were the epitome of what she wanted in life. She wanted someone to look at her the way they look at each other, and love her like they love each other.

“El’s here.” Luisa grinned as she looked at her sister again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can stay if you want, go out later.”

“No!” Christian exclaimed, shaking her head, “You’re not cancelling because of this. I’ll be fine. You two enjoy yourself.”

Luisa looks at her sister and raises one of her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Completely positive?”

“Luisa!” Christian exclaims, shaking her head, “Go to your girlfriend, everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” Christian stood up and made her way towards her sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then making her way over to the door and opening it for her. Christian can see Elsa’s car parked at the end of the street and she smiles at the sight, “I’ll see you later. Message me if you need me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

Christian watches for a little while longer, just checking that Luisa actually makes it to Elsa. Once she sees the car door open and Elsa steps out, Christian takes it as her cue to go back inside. There aren’t any guests staying at the Lodge at this exact time, so it feels a little odd to Christian that someone will be coming tonight and that they’re going to be staying for the entire month, and be the only guest that they have for a while.

Yesterday, seeing as though it was the only day that Christian had been given to prepare, she made a start on deciding which room she was going to give H.Styles and started to get it ready. Luisa had spent the day at reception so that Christian could do that, only face-timing her every once in a while so that she could see what Christian was doing to the rooms.

A part of Christian often felt guilty when it came to the two rooms that were on the upper floor of the Lodge. They were the largest and fanciest rooms in Christian’s opinion, but due to the narrow staircase Luisa had never been able to go up and see them in real life so she had to settle for Christian’s shaky camera work on facetime.

Christian had to choose between rooms Seda and Luz which were both nice for different reasons. She supposes that she is biased because she designed these rooms and helped decorate them more as her own than the rooms downstairs. Due to Luisa not being able to go up to decorate the rooms, Christian had basically been given free reign of the rooms to do whatever she wanted with them. When it came to the names of the rooms, Seda and Luz, which mean silk and light in Spanish, Christian knew that she wanted to incorporate some form of each of the words into the decoration of the room.

When it came to Seda, Christian made the main colour combination in the room a dark grey and peach colour and incorporated the silk in with the curtains and the cushions that were used as decoration. Everything matches and isn’t too cluttered in the rooms, which is one of the things that Christian loves about being able to decorate her own rooms. The second room, Luz, she decided to make the accents in the room navy blue, including an accent wall which was a pain in Christian’s arse to paint, but once it was finished it really did bring the room together. The vocal point of the room, though, had to be the different exposed light bulbs that light up the room: there were three on the ceiling, and other lamps assorted throughout the room.

Christian had ended up cleaning and making sure that both rooms were adequate. She changed the sheets, hoovered, placed down fresh towels, dusted and did basically everything else that she could to not only distract herself but make the rooms ready for when H.Styles arrived.

Luisa always used to say, whenever they spoke about the Bed and Breakfast that she were going to own before the accident happened, that she reckoned that the cleaning and the upkeep portion would be the worst and for a while Christian thought the same, but she quickly came to realise that truly wasn’t the case. Christian loved to clean and make sure that everything was tidy for whenever the guests arrived and after having a little more thought about it, Christian believed that the reason she enjoyed cleaning was because it gave her time to relax and not think about everything else in her life. She often had her headphones on with music playing, or maybe even a podcast every now and then. Christian couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment in her life where she became an old woman, but she couldn’t say that she minded.

She decided that the best thing that she could do is wait until H.Styles arrived for her to make any decisions about which room she thought would be the best. Of course, Christian wouldn’t know anything about him by just checking him in she would at least be given a slight indication of which room he may enjoy more.

Christian had no idea what time H.Styles would be arriving, and that was one of the things that was creating a bit of suspense. She was checking their books and making sure everything was in line and at any given second he could arrive and she would meet the person who had booked to stay there for the entire month. Christian believed that maybe that was why she spent a lot of her time wondering about who was coming to stay with them, because who would need to stay in their little corner of the Lake District for that amount of time, who would need to do that?

If there was one thing that Christian certainly wasn’t doing it was complaining. This man, whoever he was and for whatever reasons he was doing this, would be paying their bills and giving them enough money to keep themselves going for a little while longer, or at least until October Half-Term.

Christian quickly learnt that there wasn’t going to be much for her to do but sit and wait, and due to her being on her own in the Lodge, she saw no issues with connecting her phone to her speakers and blasting out music into the room. Luisa always said that Christian had a weird taste in music, but Christian just said that it was eclectic.

The thing about Christian, especially when it came to her music, was that she listened to everything. If someone recommended a song, she’d listen to it, and if she liked that song then she’d listen to it again and again. She would never say that she wouldn’t listen to a song just because it’s country, or that she doesn’t like this artist very much so she won’t listen to it either. If a song is a good song, and she likes it, then she’d listen to it. That did mean that Christian’s playlists were a little all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried to organise them, it just wasn’t possible.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John was the song blasting through the speakers at this time, a classic if Christian said so herself. She had done everything work wise that she needed to do, so she spent her time reading one of the books that she had picked up from the bookstore in the village: one about love, death and everything in between. It was good, but it wasn’t one of her favourites, but she’d definitely finish reading it just to see how it ended.

She was completely submerged in the words on the page, and the words floating around her ears when the door opened. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the man walking closer to the desk until she saw movement from over the pages of her book which caused her lips to part open in shock slightly. Her eyes flickered to the time on the computer, and it read that it was just past one in the afternoon, and she was shocked to say the least that he was already there.

Christian abandoned her book and threw it down, hoping that she’d at least get to remember where she was in the book because the pages had closed, and clicked her phone on so she could pause the music. Her eyes then flickered up to the man who was standing above her, and she couldn’t help her lips parting as she then looked him up and down. She was trying not to stare, she really was, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it to say the least.

From what Christian could see, he was wearing a denim flat-cap on his head with brown curls peeking out of the bottom. He was also wearing sunglasses over his eyes, but she watched him take them off and they were now placed on the top of the reception desk. She could only see just under his chest, but he was wearing a red and blue striped shirt and a blue jacket. Christian couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he liked the colour blue, since he was wearing quite a lot of it.

“Hi.” Christian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that crossed her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“M’Harry.” The man says, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he does so. Harry, “I made a booking a few days ago, I’m here to check in.”

Christian nods her head, “I’ll just get that up for you."

She wiggles the mouse to wake the computer up and quickly types in the password so that their systems come back up. Christian’s a little embarrassed to say the least that their systems weren’t already up but she wasn’t expecting him to arrive yet, so she hadn’t prepared for it. Once the system is loaded up and she has his booking, she offers him another smile.

One of the things that Christian had prepared though was the bill that he has to sign beforehand with the deposit on it that states that he’ll get the deposit money back if the room is left unharmed.

“Can you sign and date on the dotted line, please?” She asks, giving him the sheet of paper and a pan. She watches as he signs H.Styles, in a beautiful penmanship if she does say so herself, and then passes back to her.

She clicks a few more buttons on the computer before opening the drawer and starting to flicker through the keys, “One room, for thirty nights.”

Christian tries to hide the shock in her voice when she says how long he’s staying but she certainly doesn’t do a good job of it. As Christian flickered through the keys, she finally landed on the one that she had been waiting for, the one for Luz. It seemed like an obvious choice in Christian’s mind when she saw what he was wearing to pick Luz, so that’s the one she decided upon.

“That’s right.” Harry nods his head.

“Great.” Christian sighs with a smile on her face, trying her hardest not to make the situation more awkward than it was, “I’ll, uh, show you to your room.”

He nods his head and she watches as he picks up the suitcases that she hadn’t even noticed he had with him and followed her towards the staircase. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the fact that he was walking behind her, watching her and she couldn’t see what his face looked like. That was certainly why, and not because she had noticed that he had quite the handsome face.

Once she made it up to Luz, and she had turned the light switch on so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark trying to find where they were going, she used the key in her hand to open the door. Christian walked in first, just because there wasn’t enough room on the narrow landing for them both to stand and manoeuvre around each other — Christian had learnt that the hard way.

She placed the key on the cabinet in the room, and then turned to look at Harry who had just placed his suitcases down on the ground. He looked around the room for a little while and then moved to the window, looking out before turning to Christian.

“It’s lovely.”

Christian nodded her head in thanks, “Breakfast is from seven to nine everyday in the conservatory. I’ll, uh, leave you to get settled in and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

The second Christian walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, she lets out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she had been holding.

Christian messaged Luisa that he had arrived but she received no reply. She didn’t think too much of it, because she knew that whenever Elsa and Luisa were together they were so completely obsessed with each other that nothing can distract them. Luisa knows though that if she doesn’t give Christian an update of their whereabouts by five then Christian would start to worry — they had four hours before Christian would start to worry.

For a little while Christian didn’t put her music back on, and she listened to the creeks of the ceiling as Harry moved around above her.

He didn’t give anything away of who he was, or why he was there but at the same time Christian made no indication of wanting to know anything. If Luisa would have been here when he arrived, that would probably be a completely different story. Luisa would’ve gotten some information out of him, Christian knew it for certain. She wondered who he was, and what he was doing here, but she wouldn’t ask him.

When the creeks of the ceilings stopped and there wasn’t anything else for Christian to listen to, she turned her music back on and picked up her book. It took her a while to locate where she was, having just thrown it on the side earlier when she noticed that he was there but she soon found the page she was up to. The words, as much as Christian tried to digest them, just weren’t going into her head in the way that they had been.

Christian wasn’t playing the music as loud as she had been earlier, mainly because she wanted to hear and listen when he started moving again, and when he eventually came downstairs. He had to come down at some point, seeing as though he had to eat and even though they serve breakfast at the Lodge, they don't serve lunch or dinner just yet. It was something that Christian and Luisa had been looking into, but it takes more work than they could have ever imagined to make something like that work.

Around two hours after Harry first arrived, she heard movement upstairs and towards the landing that caused her heart to skip a beat. Christian quickly turned her music off, and managed to place her bookmark in her book before he walked into the reception. She tried not to make it obvious and she placed her hand on the mouse of her computer as though she had been doing something, but she wasn’t the best actress and she was sure that it was completely obvious what she had been doing.

He gave her a smile as he walked into the room and towards the desk, and she tried not to seem awkward when she gave him one back but she was sure that she’d failed at that too.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He nods his head, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just. . . I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations of places to eat.”

“Oh, uh, I do know of some good places.” She nods her head, “What food do you like? Then I know what to recommend.”

“I’ll eat anything, to be honest.” He chuckles, a smile crossing his lips. He had dimples.

“Uh, well, there’s a good Italian restaurant about a mile from here.” Christian shrugs, “I can call you a taxi, if you would like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs, “Have you got the postcode? Or some directions.”

“Yeah, it’s just down the road.” She points to the left, “If you go over the bridge and just follow the road for a mile or so, you can’t miss it. It’s called Galileo’s.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and turns to walk towards the door.

He opens the door and then moves to the side, stopping his actions. Christian furrows her eyebrows as she watches everything unfold. Luisa and Elsa walk through the opened door, smiling at Harry as they do so before turning to look at Christian with wide eyes. The two of them look over their shoulder and watch as the door shuts behind Harry as he leaves, and their eyes immediately fall to Christian again who’s looking at them with her teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip.

“Oh. My. God.” Luisa slowly makes her way towards Christian, stopping when she’s finished saying the last word, “You failed to mention in your message that the man was basically a Greek God, Christ Christian.”

“Do you really think that me of all people would say that?” Christian sighs and shakes her head.

Elsa shakes her head, “Chris wouldn’t say that, Lu. You know that.”

Luisa accepts her girlfriend’s hand on her shoulder with a kiss, “Doesn’t mean it’s any less true though. Did he tell you anything?”

“His name is Harry.”

Luisa doesn’t blink as she looks at her sister, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That’s all he said.” Christian nods her head, “He just came down to ask for a recommendation of places to eat and I told him to go to Galileo’s.”

“Jeez.” Elsa sucks a breath through her teeth and shakes her head, “Galileo’s? On the first night? Are you sure?”

“Galileo is harmless.” Christian shakes her head.

“He’s a nutcase.” Luisa sighs, shaking her head.

“He’s not.” Christian pouts, “He’s not around me, anyway.”

Elsa laughs and sits down on one of the couches that rest against the wall of the reception, “If he survive’s Galileo’s then he’ll survive staying here for an entire month, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” Luisa whines, “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Christian’s quick to say after her sister, “You are though.”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, missy.” Luisa says, lifting her hand up and pointing one of her fingers at her sister, “I’m still the older one in this situation.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows and looks at her sister, “Are you sure about that?”

“Shut it, you.” Luisa shakes her head, turning her attention back to her sister, “If I were you, I’d just keep an eye on him. See if you can figure out anything about him.”

“I’m not going to stalk him, Luisa!”

“I wasn’t telling you to stalk him!” She exclaims back, “I was just telling you to observe, like a good host would.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows from behind her girlfriend, “It sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

Luisa shakes her head, “I hate you both.”

Christian grins and tilts her head to the side, “You love us really.”

Although Christian would never admit it, watching and listening seemed like quite a good way of figuring out who this man was and why he was here. She wasn’t going to be stalking him though, just observing.

[rakhma-agape-ahavah]

Last August, a month before my sister in law got remarried, I had a dream about her that I believed with absolute certainty was from God.

In my dream she was at her baby shower, posing outside for photos with her aunt in a white shirt with lavender colored flowers. I was so certain of the dream, I reached out to one of my dearest friends to help me bring the design out of my mind and onto paper.

But being able to have children was something my sister in law wasn't even sure would ever happen. She'd been married before, to a terrible man. One who held her back from her relationship with God. A hateful, angry, controlling man. She had married him when she was very young, and after an emergency trip to the hospital found that, much like myself, she was highly unlikely to ever have children. And in the seven years they were married, they never did.

Mercifully, she was able to get a divorce, and be free of him. She moved in with my husband and I, and we got to see her relationship with Jesus blossom even more. Her dad had purchased a guitar for her before his passing, and it was a joy to have her sing worship songs in our home, free and unhindered, as she learned to play guitar beautifully. No fear that she would be stopped from praising her Father in heaven to her heart's content.

After about a year she gained independence from us, and began living on her own. She then met a wonderful Christian man, with a deep love for the Lord. I'm honored now to call him family, and to trust him with my husband's sister, whom we all adore.

In March, we got a phone call.

They were expecting.

I searched again for the shirt that was impossible to find: high and low for her, I scoured the internet for the shirt I saw her wearing in my dream, glowing and radiant in her pregnancy. Comparing every shirt on the internet to the drawing my friend had made. But I couldn't find anything exactly like it.

So with the help of my dearest, and oldest friends, I had the shirt custom designed and made for her. And it was, indeed, ready for her when her baby shower came around.

I took the photos for her baby shower myself. And at the last minute, when her aunt was leaving, and realizing we hadn't yet gotten a photo with her, we took a photo with her outside before she got in her car.

And when I came home, editing the photos, I realized I'd seen the image before. And it was the only photo taken outside, with the same person she had posed beside in my dream. I absolutely wept with my joy.

These last few months of her pregnancy, I've been having dreams of her singing worship music in her living room with a toddler. And this precious child in my dream belted out praises to God with all the power her little lungs could muster. I heard a voice in one of those dreams; that she would love Him with all her heart. And I am so excited to see what God has planned for her. I am overjoyed to the point of tears, and I am honored by what I've been allowed to see already.

I write all this now to announce to you that today, I received news just a little while ago, that this precious little baby was finally born. 8 pounds and 2 ounces.

What a mighty God we serve, who sets the captive free, and gives hope to the hopeless. Glory to God.

I'll update you again in a few years, whenever she learns to sing. I long to hear this sweet baby sing hymns again. The memory of a dream is not enough. And I can't wait for others to hear her sweet voice.

And in case you don't believe me, here is the proof. The proof that God keeps His promises, that God doesn't lie, that what He says is always true. Proof that obviously, there is Someone greater, Someone who knows us better than we know ourselves, and loves us so greatly that we cannot hope to comprehend it. Who else would know this child when she was only a hope, and a dream? Not I. I didn't have the power to know, or to call upon this dream. I'm no one. I'm nothing. And He is everything.

Acts 2:17 In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.

I cannot describe the greatness of my joy, that I might be blessed to know one more person in this life who loved God so much nothing could stop her from proclaiming Him to the world.

And God showed her to me, of all people, the least deserving. He showed hope, and faith, to a nobody like me, in ways I can never deny. And now, I want to show it to you.

Jesus loves you. God bless you all.

[needstostopbinging]

This isn't Ed related, but it's something I'd like to get out.

I wonder if my old best friend thinks about me as often as I think about her. Not in some weird, obsessive way. Hell, I don't even know if I'd want to try going back to being friends after what I did. It's a guilt too much to handle that I can never seem to shake.

I think about her and the relationship we used to have every time I walk into a class we have together. We sit on opposite sides of the the room and I pray to catch her looking at me. Just once, I want her to look at me with some semblance of emotion. Even if it's disgust. Even if it's hatred. It's ok if she hates me. At least that'd be SOMETHING.

I guess it's selfish to wish she was just a fraction as hung up on me as I am on her. She was my oldest friend and, at a lot of times, my only friend. Sure, I had acquaintances everywhere, but she was the only one who seems to care about me beyond something to talk at for a few minutes to keep boredom away.

It all started changing in 7th grade. That's when I met and befriended my current partner. It was when I re-realized and accepted the fact I'm queer. I started making new friends and becoming obsessed with fandom culture. Before, I would like a show here or there, but mostly just listen to other people talk about things and pretend I could relate. I still do that, but now I have my own interests too.

I started making new friends who who were lgbt and found refuge with them. It was a comfort beyond words, as I'd spent so long hating that part of myself because of my Christian upbringing. I was happy, in that sence, but my overall mental health was also starting to decline.

I don't want to use my depression or anxiety as an excuse. Sure, it makes sense for why it started, but I feel like there is no good excuse for not having done anything to fix it. I essentially abandoned her. I shut her out. To this day, I have no clue how I let that happen. I've had separation anxiety for longer than I can remember. My biggest fear is being abandoned and left alone, yet here I was. My memory of the past few years is foggy, but it's like one day we were best friends, the next day I'd flat out stopped talking to her.

I tried reaching out again, but it just didn't feel right. I was used to talking to her face to face, but with her in honors classes and me falling behind academically, the only way for us to talk was messaging. I apologized for ghosting her and she apologized for how she used to view members of the lgbt community. We had no-bullshit conversations about mental health and such. It didn't last long, though. Like I said, my memory is shit. I genuinely can't remember the last thing I said to her. Or the last time we talked. I think it's been over a year now at least, but I'm not entirely sure.

I don't know why I don't just TALK to her. It's too intimidating. It's too scary. I've changed so much since the time we were closest. If there are any good memories of me in her head, I feel like a conversation with the new me would taint them forever. Maybe I fear the same thing for me. I'm sure she's changed a tone too. That's just how people work. Throughout all my scarce, fuzzy memories, any time I remember hearing her voice, I was happy. Maybe not entirely. We did talk about some dark things and I was always as empathetic as I could be, but even when discussing the worst, I was glad to be in her company and proud to be someone she saw worthy of confiding in.

She seems happy enough. She started dating this guy we've known our whole lives and, at least from my outside view, it seems to be a healthy and good relationship. He was always nice and I know his mom, so I'm fairly confident he treats her well. She has her own group of friends, people she'd been friend with just as long as us, but who I never really clicked with. She seems happy whenever I see her in the halls or the lunchroom. I hope that's true. She used to be so good at being happy, even when she was telling me about something devastating. She always had just the right joke to make sure things never got too dark. I can only hope she's in a good space mentally and that her high ambitions for life work out. All I want for her is the best life has to offer. I want her to have escaped every dark thing she's been through and spoken to me about and to live her life joyfully. Even if it's not realistic, that is my only hope for her.

I'm crying now. Actual tears. I guess it's just really sinking in how much I lost. Not just a friend. I feel like growing apart from her lines up too well with my mental health going to shit for it to have been a coincidence. Even if it's not WHY I'm so messed up now, it definitely didn't make things better. I miss her so much, but it feels too late to try and reconcile. I don't know what to do.

[kira-ani-mcgrath]

I've little interest in Frozen stuff but I've seen bits and pieces of this Hans stuff you've mentioned on and off and I'm curious about something. When you say someone is acting un-Christlike by saying a character is irredeemable, what is it you exactly mean? Because sometimes yea, it can be narratively unsatisfying to randomly redeem a character in a story. Example: People debating if it would be narratively satisfying if Azula got redeemed. It's got nothing to do with worldview imo.

For context, this ask comes in the wake of this post.

I’m posting this reply publicly so I can refer back to it if needed in the future. I received a similar ask [hopefully that link works] on the heels of this post, which I answered privately without saving a copy of my response, and it would have been useful if I’d saved and/or posted it. Thus, here we are.

I want to make something 100% unquestionably clear to anyone who follows me or reads my posts: whenever I criticize someone labeling Hans “unredeemable”/“irredeemable” it is ALWAYS in the context of someone declaring him un/irredeemable because of what he has done.

It is NEVER people saying they don’t think Disney should redeem him because they’re worried WDAS will do a terrible job of it. It is NEVER people saying they don’t want him redeemed in an unsatisfying manner (i.e.: “BTW he’s good now, he changed off-screen and now he’s back like nothing bad happened.”). It is NEVER people saying that his redemption may not fit well into a particular scenario. It confuses me that people are interpreting my words this way, because if I were to express concern about the way a character’s actual or potential redemption were handled, I would never do it by labeling the character irredeemable or saying the character shouldn’t be redeemed at all, full stop. I would include the nuances I am referring to, such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed off-screen,” or “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this movie.” Therefore, if I am saying people shouldn’t call a character irredeemable, I’m not referring to specific cases such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed by this creative team,” or, “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this manner.” I am referring to a much larger picture.

I am criticizing people who say Hans is evil, malicious, unfeeling, manipulative, abusive, a villain, a sociopath, and/or a murder, and therefore he can never and should never be redeemed. I am criticizing people who don’t want Hans redeemed because they have a personal grudge against the character. I am criticizing people who think that once a character crosses a particular line (and apparently this line is unique for Hans, based on what he actually did compared to every other “bad guy” in fictional history), the character is now 100% bad and can never be good in any way ever again.

A Christian should never think this way. There is no unforgivable sin (besides attributing works of the Holy Spirit to Satan, as some of the Pharisees did). We are to love our enemies and desire what is best for them - to be saved, redeemed - and yet I see people with the word “Christian” in their bio bragging about how much they hate Hans because he was so terrible to Anna and Elsa, rejoicing that Hans remains unredeemed in canon, cheering when Anna punches Hans in Frozen, laughing when the Frozen Fever snowball crashes into him, agreeing with Elsa calling him an “unredeemable monster” and approving of her destroying his snow-figure in Frozen II. I see those who say they belong to Christ - the Savior who took on every sin imaginable - saying that Hans is simply too mean, too horrible, too evil to be redeemed. I hope this is obvious, but there should be no such thing as “too [x] for redemption” to the Christian. There is never anyone, real or fictional, beyond salvation and redemption. [The only exception I could think of would be a fictional world where the rules are the antithesis to Christianity - then you could say a character is irredeemable because the very nature of that universe doesn’t allow for the character’s redemption. But that certainly doesn’t apply to Frozen.]

Now to address the Azula example brought up at the end. I’m not an A:TLA fan, but I did watch the entire show and I see the occasional meta cross my dash now and then. I’m not familiar with any debates as you have referenced, so I’m just going to give my own examples to hopefully add some extra clarity to my position.

First, I fail to see how a well-done redemption arc could ever be “narratively unsatisfying,” particularly for the Christian. If it’s well-written and you see the steps the character takes, their failings and their successes, I would think that'd be quite a satisfying story. So what is the actual issue when debating characters’ redemptions? I believe it’s concerns of quality, characterization, and actions.

Given where we see Azula at the end of her fight with Zuko in the finale, it would certainly be unsatisfying if she was chilling in Iroh’s tea shop with everyone in the final moments of the series. Likewise, I would not want to see a Hans redemption where we are re-introduced to Hans and he’s completely apologetic and ready to right any wrongs. In fact, I am put-off by fanfics that start with Hans having already repented, changed, etc., from his canon actions and self. I want to see the process of change, so that it is satisfying when he finally makes the right decision.

Given the existing three seasons of A:TLA, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for an Azula redemption arc. Given the current Frozen material, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for a Hans redemption arc.

Had there been further canon A:TLA material, and there was an Azula redemption arc done as well as Zuko’s (such as described in this Twitter thread), I would have found that very narratively satisfying. Now, others may not like how that theoretical redemption was handled, plotted, etc. That’s perfectly fine. Likewise, people may have certain ways they don’t want a theoretical Hans redemption handled, plotted, etc. Again, perfectly fine. One can disagree on the way a redemption arc was/might be handled without dismissing the redemption altogether.

People may want Azula to remain unredeemed because they believe she would choose to be so. That’s fine (though others are allowed to disagree). For example, if she were to maintain that she did nothing wrong and reject any help Zuko and Iroh offered, then she would remain unredeemed. Alternatively, she could realize that what she did was wrong, but then go the opposite direction and believe she doesn’t deserve anything good, so she would reject love and help at every turn for the rest of her life, and thus remain unredeemed. However, I have never seen anyone call a character “irredeemable” and mean that they believe the character would actively choose to reject offers of redemption.

People may say Azula or Hans shouldn’t be redeemed because it would be out-of-character. From an unbeliever’s perspective, that may be correct, as they think certain traits as immutable. However, that’s wrong from a Christian perspective, as anyone can change if enabled by the grace of God. In fictional worlds that don’t have any Christianity, you simply use an imperfect archetype to play a pivotal role in the character’s transformation (i.e., Uncle Iroh to Zuko).

People may not be against an Azula or Hans redemption in and of itself, but think it makes the most narrative sense to leave the characters unredeemed - whether it be because there wasn’t enough time in canon, or there’s other characters to focus on, or some other behind-the-fourth-wall reason. That doesn’t make the characters irredeemable, it just means that’s the way the story currently stands. There’s no reason that story can’t change in the future.

However, if people are saying Azula shouldn’t be redeemed at all because what she did was too wrong, then that is un-Christ-like. Likewise, saying Hans is irredeemable because what he did was too wrong is indisputably un-Christ-like. Now, of course, I can’t expect unbelievers to act Christ-like, so it doesn’t surprise me when I see them express such sentiments. However, when a Christian argues against redemption on these grounds, I absolutely question why. You claim to stand on the Word of God, but declare there are actions too heinous to be forgiven and characters that don’t deserve redemption? God rebuked a man for his desire to see people punished instead of forgiven [Jonah], forgave adultery and murder [David], and transformed a man from persecuting to teaching the Church [Saul/Paul]. Yet you put your stamp of approval on a lack of redemption for a character because of the actions of that character? Further sanctification is needed, whether in love for the lost or in fully surrendering all to Christ. A lack of redemption should only serve as a warning of what happens to those who reject truth, love, and forgiveness - because, as we know, not everyone will be saved. A Christian should never be against redemption because they personally hate the character, or think the character is unforgivable, or believe the character doesn’t “deserve” it, or any other reason antithetical to who Christ is and what He has done.

[blacksunscorpio]

Hi! Omg i love your blog and I feel like you might have soom good insight on this: Do you know how I can become more enlightened? I've bought so man decks, gotten so many readings, I watch so many Youtube videos on spirituality the craft, and astrology and placed a shipment for almost every crystal known to man but don't feel any closer to the divine. Am I doing something wrong? How do I make the best out of all these tools?

Hmmmm... my love, I hate to say this but it sounds like you may be suffering from what is termed as “Spiritual Materialism.”

What is Spiritual Materialism?

It’s the phenomenon that happens when we use spiritual concepts, doctrines, practices, and tools to reinforce the false sense of self, the ego. 

But being free of the ego is the very definition of spiritual enlightenment. I won’t lie, I think we’ve all suffered from it at one point or another. I know I have. so here are some tips to identify whether or not you may be a victim of this mindset.

 1. Being a constant shopper in “spiritual marketplaces”

.... this includes chasing or being thirsty for endless workshops, methods, tools, talismans, and techniques which all promise to make you a wiser, more intuitive, more at peace or blissful, person. These shopping sprees can get out of control very fast. Now there’s nothing wrong with wanting to educate yourself, or simply being curious [I was a double major in history and international studies, I get it, lol] but we have to remember that the acquisition of these things in an attempt to become more awakened can become more of an addiction than anything else. It’ll also hurt your pockets.

 

2. “Grass is Greener Syndrome” or “Future Obsessive Compulsion”

Or believing “if I just do this” or “if only I was in *insert Nirvana-esque location here*” that one can get to an ‘elevated state’ in the future. “I’ll be better than who I am now. I’ll be my best.” This causes one to forget the present. To neglect the good already in them. Dwelling on dreams and forgetting to live. It may seem ambitious but it is fundamentally egocentric.

3. Being a “Spiritual Influencer”

Also known as “InstaSpirituality”. These are the types to focus on aesthetically pleasing spiritual practices, things that are Tik-Tok-able or Snapchat/Insta worthy. Spirituality that is used strictly for social capital/gain when there is no sincere desire to really delve into the deeper, messier, Tower-like moments that often walk hand in hand with spiritual awakenings. These moments are typically not ones you want to catch on camera.

4. Spiritual cultural appropriation

Using words, practices, ways of life of cultures other than your own for profit/self-image or self-gain only and not because you truly respect them honor them or even attempted to understand them. We must remember that every culture on earth has a deep and rich history and it is disrespectful to use what others find sacred as a boomerang on your social media feed.

5. Focusing solely on the “positive”

I know this sounds like it should be a good thing but what we have to understand is that humans and the universe as a whole are only balanced with light and dark. Yin and Yang. You cannot have one without the other. Focusing only on “high vibes” or “love and light” creates illusion. It creates a false world so that the ego avoids the reality of its own shadow. In fact, your shadow exists to protect you. That urge you get to defend yourself when you’re attacked by an insult or a sudden ‘left-hook’. That boil in your belly when you see someone getting buck with you and you wish to retaliate. The black and blue balls you give the asshole harassing you in the club after kneeing him in them is your shadow self protecting your conscious/physical-self. This is your basic instinct, as they call it. The basic self will act primarily to preserve the body. It will resist anything that will harm or hurt the body or that will cause destruction to itself  You have to embrace it. You have to work with both and not let one run rough-shod over the other.

6. Spiritual Elitism

Or using spiritual achievements, lineage, gifts, etc to feel superior or disconnect from others. The types who cultivate spiritual resumes [a list of all the important people they’ve met, certifications they have or abilities they claim to own] to impress themselves and others. I also call this spiritual narcissism. This is actually what ends up being the result of spiritual materialism. The ego becomes elephantine. So big and so impervious that it not only consciously believes it is more “awakened” but it will do anything to reinforce this [typically false] narrative. Included but not limited to harming others through arrogance, narcissism, and at it’s worst physical harm. These individuals typically suffer from insecurities themselves. Often you find these individuals within organized religious sectors, yes [Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, etc] but they can also be found in the Divining, Astro, Witch & Reiki community as well. These are the modern-day equivalents of Slytherins and their “pure-blood” nonsense. Believing everyone else to be of dirty-blood or less than. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being proud of your heritage, gifts, or things you simply worked hard for. Especially in a world that makes you believe being proud of yourself or your culture [especially if you’re not white] is a sin and self-deprecation and humility are admirable [they’re not.] But are you really enlightened if you do not allow others the same grace to work towards what you believe you’ve achieved? The point is to not be judgmental, but instead to be aware and compassionate with ourselves and others.

7. Self-Improvement addiction

Hopping around from teacher to teacher, guru to guru in your attempt to become more healed, more awakened, more in touch with the supernatural. Practicing meditation with the agenda to avoid any feeling and/or suffering by being detached on a 24-hour basis. The reality is, these practices are more harmful than helpful. You need your emotions. They’re what make you human. And the inconvenient truth is that they are always fluctuating [water signs, I know you hear me on this]. In your attempt to improve yourself constantly, you’re reinforcing the negative mindset that you are somehow “broken” and need to be “fixed” and as a result, you are never happy.

In essence

Spiritual materialism is what occurs when spirituality feeds the ego and the ego greedily sucks it all in. When we take something Divine and try to possess it as our own. When we are fuelled with ego-centric or self-serving motives. Again, we all have this tendency, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I myself have suffered from No. 2 and No. 7 the most. Now that you all know some of the symptoms, can you be honest with yourself? How many of these can you relate to? What steps will you take to be more aware and adjust some of these habits? It may be hard to admit but as they say in AA, the first step is acceptance, of yourself and your flaws.