#especially most people not living in the bible belt

[not-poignant]

Hi hi :D Hope you are having a good day!

I was rereading UtB and I got to chap 24 and there was this part:

"‘Jesus,’ Dr Gary said."

And at first I was like 'huuuhuuhu I wonder if Jesus is an omega, beta, or alspha in the Underline-verse'

But then I was like 'gaaaasp, what if he was a peak alpha!' And I started thinking about the influence of peak alphas on things like religion, as religious figures. I know they're very rare, but I also remember Augus saying that it should be illegal for Ash to be a lawyer as a peak alpha. So then I started thinking about how would peak alphas would impact religion. Or cults! Or royalty! Or politics! Or just the course of history in general! Maybe they would stay the fuck away from it, or maybe they would crave having that control? I spent a very enjoyable hour daydreaming about it, which felt a bit like splashing around in the paddling pool of someone elses worldbuilding, which was maybe a bit rude lol, sorry if it was. And maybe Gary saying 'jesus' was just a throwaway expletive, and you didn't even mean much by it, but I was wondering about your thoughts! <<33

Hi anon!

This is something I've thought of. It's hilarious to me to low-key imagine Jesus in this world as an omega, though I haven't invested too much thought into it because I don't really care much for religion in general.

But generally speaking I liked the conflict of omegas being treated as second-class citizens and how that gets justified against Jesus being an omega etc. And then I was like 'I don't care about this enough to keep thinking about it, it's just amusing to me.' And that's about where I'm at. Enough to be sacrilegious and not enough to have fleshed it out further because I'm very idc about that stuff.

So then I started thinking about how would peak alphas would impact religion. Or cults! Or royalty! Or politics! Or just the course of history in general! Maybe they would stay the fuck away from it, or maybe they would crave having that control?

Oh no they totally crave that control. A tiny percentage of the world's population is peak alphas but they're overwhelmingly likely to be found in positions of power.

Tbh this is... intentional. I was trying to think of how to account for the absolute fucking monsters that end up as all-powerful billionaires in the world. Utter twats like Elon Musk, who you just know are too pathological to have hold of that much money, and yet no one on the planet is holding him (or the Zuck etc.) accountable.

And to me it gave me some comfort in my omegaverse, to imagine these asshats as being peak alphas. People who attain their power not because the governments have no regulations to stop them (which they should), but because they just have too much ardolphogen influence / power for anyone to stop them from getting this powerful.

And just like it's a huge issue in our world, it's a huge issue in this world too. The millionaires but especially the billionaires in this world are likely to be peak alphas. Generally speaking it's frowned upon for them to become Presidents and Prime Ministers, but they are found in other levels of court and parliament, as royalty, etc. They're less likely to make cults and more likely to go into business where they can control a lot of people at once.

It is a huge, huge issue. And it was planned for as part of the dystopia in advance.

Peak alphas crave controlling communities, not individuals. With the exception of Augus, the peak alphas we meet all have significant control over large amounts of people, whether it's Crielle and Fenwy Laboratories, or Temsen and Gary and Hillview, etc.

They don't need intimate relationships or love, because they form a bond to a much larger group. Historically that would have worked for small micro-communities - one person drawn to controlling and looking after the community while alphas were drawn to omegas. But in a globalised society and runaway exploitation re: billionaires, it's just become completely dystopian and it's partly how you end up with a world that favours alphas so much in the first place.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

sorry if youve gotten this question before, or this just isnt what you focus on but considering all the things happening in the us right now would it be advisable for me (a trans guy) to move to canada? like how are you guys holding up in terms of policy around trans and gay people? and what city/providence would you most recommend, if any?

Things are mostly ok within the larger cities (Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal, etc) but some rural communities in bible belts have not been safe spaces for LGBTQ people.

One major concern is that the leader of the Conservative Party of Canada is a transphobe, and based on the polls consistent over the past year or so, he has a very real chance of becoming Prime Minister.

There has been a large rise in homophobic and trans phobic hate crimes in recent years. Its definitely not as bad as the USA, but things are not necessarily trending down either.

As far as which regions in general are safest:

Canada's most left party (NDP) is in control of two provinces, British Columbia and Manitoba. The party is very LGBTQ friendly. Additionally the Liberals are in power in Newfoundland & Labrador and Yukon and are also generally pretty supportive. All other provinces in Canada right now have Conservative governments. The territories of Northwest Territories and Nunavut don't have party affiliations.

There have been some Premiers who have taken transphobic stances and policies in New Brunswick, Saskatchewan and Alberta (all are run by Conservative governments).

Moving to Canada is also very expensive, very time consuming and is far from guaranteed unless you have jobs lined up for you, are wealthy, etc. I'm not saying to give up on the idea, just make sure you do the research and know what you're getting into.

Canada has a higher cost of living with especially high rent prices, particularly in Vancouver/Toronto and the neighbouring areas of BC and Ontario. So make sure to keep that in mind.

Hope this helps. I'm Trans too (Trans Femme) and happy to answer any other questions you have.

[foreficfandom]

Alastor - Historical Trivia And Headcanons

Alastor was a mixed-race Creole man living in New Orleans, and was in his 30's/40's when he died in 1933. We don't know much else about him, but historical context can provide us with possible additional details:

The population of New Orleans in 1930 was 458,762, more than it is now. 27.2% of the people were black, 3.1% were foreign-born, and roughly half of America's bipoc population was unemployed thanks to the Great Depression. New Orleans' original Francophonication was still strong, and it was common to run into locals who only spoke French dialects (Cajun French, Louisiana Creole). The city has had a huge Chinatown, a small Little Italy, and multiple other districts known for their immigrant African/colonized French cultures.

The Jim Crow laws were heavily enforced, as was the 'One Drop' rule. If Alastor was a mixed race black man, he would not have been able to attend a white school, use the same public transport, and would have shopped at black-local stores and restaurants under threat of violence. If he was mixed with any other race, some Jim Crow laws didn't apply, but state or city laws might specify differently.

Just because Alastor wears a suit, it doesn't mean he was rich in life. Radio personalities often didn't earn a fortune. Unless he owned his own broadcast, he was paid by a private company for long shifts of hosting music, news, and radio plays. In 1930, 40% of households owned at least one radio, which means that a popular radio host would have been easily recognized.

If he was in his late 30's in 1933, he might have fought in WW1, so long as he was over the age of 21. Some cities gave veterans small benefits, or encouraged the community to give them jobs. This often did not include veterans of color.

New Orleans was famous for being one of the least Christian cities in America, thanks to its unique immigrant and slave population. Haitian-based faiths and practices (such as voudo), indigenous cultures, Asian Buddhism, and atheism were common. But Christianity was still the official, law-enforced religion. Schooling involved reading the Bible, laws were sworn to Jesus, etc.

Alastor's outfit in Hazbin Hotel isn't very accurate to real-life American men's fashions of the time. Back then, deviating from the norm with the smallest detail would have stuck out like a sore thumb - like his white-lined lapels. Men always wore a hat. They were allowed to go without a waistcoat, but not a jacket. Belts were becoming more popular than suspenders. The silhouette was bulkier than the slimmer, Italian cuts of our modern times, especially the pants. Hair was kept short, and oiled down in a side part. Americans preferred the clean shaven look. Ties were essential unless you were a blue-collar laborer. Colors were almost universally muted neutral tones for everyday wear. The most colorful textiles for men were sporting outfits, like a tennis jacket.

If Alastor was a middle-class single man, he likely would have lived in an inner-city apartment, in an ethnic neighborhood. He probably didn't own a car, and took public transit like the streetcars. If he owned a house, it would likely have been an inheritance, and even the more opulent houses of the time would have looked small and plain to our eyes.

Because of the Great Depression, unmarried men were becoming the norm, rather than the exception. Men of the community who were sought after but remained single were suspect to gossip, but less ire than you might think; in the '30s, American queer culture was going through a very sharp revival, escaping the rigid Victorian era and before the puritan 40's/50's. But as a mixed-race man, it may have been illegal for a white woman to marry him, as the Jim Crow laws forbade the marriage of white people and Black/Asian people.

A middle class city household would have had electricity, gas heating, indoor plumbing, but may not have had running taps or a gas stove. Even with decent means, Alastor might have been using a potbelly woodburning stove, a dry sink/washbasin, wooden bathtub, and did his own laundry instead of sending it to the neighborhood laundresses. He may or may not have bothered with an icebox. Fresh groceries needed to be cooked and eaten soon, as things like pasteurized milk or store refrigeration wasn't a thing.

If he had enough money, then he almost certainly hired maids or other servants. Whether the maid came over just once a week, or did the shopping and laundry every other day, hired help was much more common back then, especially if he had no wife.

The most popular musicians in 1933 were Bing Crosby, George Olsen, and Leo Reisman. As you might have noticed, it was trendy for the lead singer to be backed by an orchestra, not a 'band' of just four other people like today. The most popular radio shows were Dick Tracy, Sherlock Holmes, and Doc Savage. They were recordings the radio station would buy and then broadcast, or sometimes the actors were live on the air. The radio host was usually not the journalist - the production team was responsible for writing his script.

[niuniente]

I was unsure of how to word things and ended up saying nothing. I realize I was too vague. I'll try to explain better. Here on my country we have a number of beliefs and religions that has mediumship as part of practice. Most of these religions are of african origin. Mind, that most of what I know is second hand knowledge and/or because of how it is somewhat integrated in our culture in certain ways. They have the Orixas that are divine beings and entities that are mundane spirits (we as people would come back as such spirits to help guide and protect the living), during practice the person lends their body to those spirits so they interact and pass guidance to those around and it's usually those spirits that do readings, healing, purification and even spiritual interference on the outcome of things you want. Those religions recognize the vastness of the world and other beliefs and other gods and spirits, The Orixas and entities, when you work to develop your relationship with them are also there to protect you from outside influences especially ill intended ones, but it's not unheard of them being possessive and keeping away other spiritual beings even when might have good intentions. Not everyone can incorporate, but as someone that's is part of those religions you do have them with you and usually messages from them come either from deep instinctive feelings or someone who does incorporate them will pass those message on to you. The older the spirit and the more people they helped the stronger they are. These spirits have, (i'm missing the exact word here) like archetypes(?) that often talk about who they were in life and the type of power and influences they have. (imagine something like a zodiac where each person have their astrology chart, each person has a spirit that has stronger influence on you and usually head the others influences over you, and the others that may affect or protect you in different ways in life.) It's also not unheard of if you established contact and a relationship with them and you come neglect this that they will complain and interfere more negatively in your life. What i meant about interaction between religions and beliefs was if you even felt some sort of interference in your readings that perhaps may have come from the fact that the person might be of a different religion or belief practice. About my colleague she was from one of those religions, she herself wasn't a medium but was somewhat sensitive herself. More than one person we met together that was also sensitive and or practiced the same religion said to have noticed this little girl spirit following her around. The way she talked about it was like, she was aware of the girl, she never did or tried anything bad to her, the girl was not a part of her "zodiac" but grew attached to her, and when other mediums tried to either give her a reading or try to interact with her more spiritually this little girl would run interference. perhaps it's not exactly blocking but everyone that had tried to do something similar wasn't able to get something clear. Oh, man, that's a lot of text. I've been to some houses after cleansing and guidance before, since many are open to outside visitors, but I'm not a practitioner. But I also have close friends that do, or grew up in families that do. My relationship with religion is rather broad but I confess that I'm much more comfortable there than in a church usually. I hope i was able to make sense of it this time 😂

Okay so it was a different religious environment as I was originally thinking. When it comes to religions itself, I live in a country that is considered atheistic or agnostic. Yes, we have churches, the main religion here is Lutheran (Evangelic-Christian and Evangelic-Lutheran also apply), we have our own Bible Belt of Pentecostals on the west coast but otherwise religion has no place here. If you belief in God or any sorts of religious beliefs you're considered having a few screws lose from your head because no sane person believes in anything else but science and hard facts. This, by the way, includes believing in the original Finnish faith system with its pantheon. I, as a spiritual person, am also considered delusional by the main view. Churches generally struggle with finding audience as it's nothing unusual that there are 1-5 people in a sermon each week.

So, there's no discord the way you described here and no belief system of any spirits here. I was once asked if Finland has any places where people are told not to go because it's cursed or known otherwise to have bad energy or bad entities. The answer is no. This nation does not believe in those things. The main consensus here is that spirits, curses, mediums, spirit world etc. do not exist.

When it comes to me as a reader and my client's belief systems, it doesn't matter. The source which gives the answers to me knows this client and is able to deliver a message to them. Sometimes a certain deity might appear in the reading but this has typically meant that the client in question has already felt their presence and the deity comes to give them a message of "Yes, you felt right, it's me".

What can cause discord is that if the client has a very strict belief system they might not be able to accept my message or hear it without a bias (and we all have our own biases) but that is not my problem and will not affect the reading.

Maybe the best example would be this; a client with a belief system that French food is the best out there and the cooking has to be done in a certain way comes to me and ask for a dinner from my menu. Does it affect my ability to cook? No. Might the person with a certain taste have problems with the final dish they get from me? Possibly.

In short, there is never any outside source influence which would hinder me from doing a reading, as I'm only a messenger. I don't control the spirits or fall into a trance inviting them into my body. I only ask a question from the source of love and light and deliver the answer to the client. I don't ask from any messages from any certain being, unless client wishes so or I want to consult myself a certain entity like a spirit guide, my belated grandmother, an ascended master, a deity or a saint.

I think that in your ex-colleague's case her belief system and those around her gave this girl spirit a permission to intervene. Subconsciously they believed that it is the case and that can happen, so the spirit got thus a permission that it can do so. Then there's a possibility that your ex-colleague was not allowed to have the answers she was looking for - or was not that interested in hearing them the first place - so the girl spirit acted as a spirit guide, stopping people.

Of course, I don't know how the spirits are expected to behave in that said belief system to their fullest but our expectations and experiences mold our interactions a lot. I expect to get answers without giving a spirit a permission to take over me for a channeled message, so it happens. Someone living in a culture where the best way to get a message is to go to a medium who gets into a trance and delivers the message expects this to happen, and so it is then.

Valuing one's own spiritual practices and views is very important, as long as it is remembered that your views and ways are yours only. Other people might and will have different ways.

TL:DR; My client's belief system will not affect my readings or my work. In my case it can only affect the client in a way that they can't accept the given message or parts of it, and in those cases I always encourage them to indeed ditch the message.

[legendofmorons]

Where in the south I think the boys would be from.

Hello as someone who had to leave the south becuase of life I miss things. Not all things, but some.

Also, I swear if my state dosen’t start to embrace sweet tea and porches, I'm gonna riot. /j

Four

Louisiana

I can't tell you why exactly he's from here but I feel like he is

He lives on the water with his uncle

Best blacksmith in town and makes a lotta horseshoes

Hyrule

Alabama

He's real sweet and grew up away from people raised by his big sister and mom

Hates when people imply he's inbred

Practices folk healing and is better than most doctors

Legend

Texas

He just is man I dunno

His Pegasus boots are his main shoe

Has a cowboy hat but only wears it when he's dragged line dancing

He's got his grandparents' ranch house

Sky

Kentucky

Dunno why specifically I just feel like he is

Has a porch swing and likes to sir in it with Zelda

Plays a lot of solitaire on his porch

Time

East Tennessee right outside the Appalachian mountains

He grew up in the mountains and has seen some real shit

A real follower of the 'no you didn't ' rule

His porch his painted, haint blue

Enters Epona into gorse competitions and she always wins

Twilight

Texas

He's a farm boy from texas

Wears jeans well into the 90s (Fahrenheit)

Keeps sweet tea in his fridge year round

Has a bottle tree

Warriors

Bible belt

More specifically, South Carolina

He knows how to go line dance and square dance, embraces it

He's a southern gentleman and probably escorted a debutante (especially his Zelda)

Wild

Florida.

He's the Florida man

Best headline? 'Florida man annihilates possessed hog with the power of friendship and feral queerness.'

OR he's from somewhere in the Appalachian woods and just does whatever he wants

Wind

Florida

He loves sweet tea but lives fir the ocean

He's from the not really southern area of florida

But it's okay I adopt him as southern

Fierce

The Appalachian mountains, he's the criptid

Crawls outta a hidden cabin and passes out knives to stray kids for protection

First

Georgia

Loves peach cobbler and will fight you if you say your family has a better recipie than his

A proper gentleman who can waltz

Likes to take his dates to a creek to watch fireflies

[b3ast0fburd3n]

yapping about Eden

Currently thinking Eden needs to carry around an axe/hatchet !

The other two fit her too, one good sized knife and another smaller one that she made herself

Also thinking about how little ingenuity we see from the pirates in fc3. Most of the stuff they're wearing and using is premade. Not a crazy idea- some of these people came here through unfortunate circumstances and didn't grow up in the environment, but there's a lot of natives that switched sides for their own reasons. You can kinda see this in how many of them carry large knives (and some of their tattoos but that's irrelevant rn), but no one really makes stuff. Even their structures are either reused or half built.

And like. Eden makes stuff. She likes making stuff!

She doesn't go so far as to make her own clothes (until New Dawn) but she knows how to tan animal skins and use the leather to make holsters and belts and such. She built her own treehouse when she was a kid* and built her own house on the island. It would just be so dog motif if she makes things for the people she likes and just leaves them where she knows they'll find them. And for the bigger things like structures, she just starts building them. She'll pause if she's instructed to do something else, of course, because she considers it a personal project, but when she's done its right back to work. Its weird, I can't see her making things to trade. It makes so much sense, this seems like it would be a special skill on the island, she could have so much! but. The thought never occurs to her. Something, something, hopeless optimist.

andandand its so cute to think about her 'pouting' (going off to be alone when she's upset because she was taught that her emotions are only her problem) and just aggressively chopping up wood. also vvv sweet idea that someone who cares about her would recognize this pattern and try to find her,,,she'd be so mad at first but I promise she appreciates someone caring that much she just doesn't recognize affection as anything other than a manipulation tactic.

*More on that, I think the cult was really big on 'doing your part', so most if not all the members assisted in building structures. Joseph was probably there too. watching. He's so manipulative, it only makes sense to me that he'd make others do all the work. Like Manson. He'll quote bible verses while they exhaust themselves and call it helping. Anyway, of course his daughter is made to help when she's old enough, but she refuses to knit or wash the laundry and she's not allowed in the kitchen to help cook since she got her 'greed' scar. So she ends up helping the builders and the hunters (coincidently, the same places where her favorite uncle ((Jacob)) spends his time. Maybe its because he's the only person in her life treating her like a person. Who knows.)

ALSO. CULT DAYS. In my verse Joseph and Co. moved to Montana much sooner and established The Project in Hope County over a longer period time. When Eden was young, the cult would take somewhat frequent trips into town for certain groceries they couldn't grow or make. She probably knew some of the locals when they were kids/teenagers. Tensions between the residents and the cult probably would've gotten worse the older she got, to the point where she wasn't allowed to leave the compound anymore (like others her age, only armed guards were allowed to leave). No way in hell she would follow that rule. Especially if she had sorta kinda friends out there. Originally I thought she'd be too attatched to her fathers ideas to befriend outsiders but the more I think about it the more I see her never really following him in the first place. She follows Jacobs logic of "it's going to happen eventually because the world sucks, might as well be prepared for it" when it comes to learning how to live off the land and bunkers and stuff.

Hey while we're talking about Jacob did I ever tell you that he pretty much raised her? Taught her everything she knows? Insisted she learn how to read and do basic math and take care of herself? Instilled the belief in her that she's worthless unless she's of use because its something he believes himself? Dogs make dogs, it's an endless cycle.

[galerymod]

It's interesting how all the conservatives and the right-wingers are working on the term woke, a real culture of excitement is being spun around the term.

What kind of bullshit has anyone of the woke people prevented the conservatives and right-wingers from their twisted world view or disturbed them in their daily propaganda?

Does woke interfere with anyone's shopping or daily life?

You get upset about it but climate change being a real threat to future generations is not an issue to get upset about!

Yes, there are criticisms of woke but these are minor compared to the real challenges facing societies.

mod

And what is that supposed to be?

Awake, Not Woke

A Christian Response to the Cult of Progressive Ideology

Mindfulness, woke and kindness is not an ideology but a realisation from the deep love for people and their form in societies to contribute together to the happiness of all.

And should be the basis of business ethics.

And this is the crux of the matter: in the context of globalisation, woke would be a nightmare for many global corporations and also for their shareholders. They have to eliminate injustice in the form of exploitation and environmental destruction at all levels, which would be good for the world, but not in the sense of the highly praised profit maximisation.

This is the real background to the uproar that is being staged against wokeness.

The Christian religion has proven throughout its history that it is anti-woke. Witch burnings, slavery, persecution of those who think differently, absolute obedience to dictatorships (see the Russian Orthodox Church), hatred of everything foreign - the entire Bible Belt in the USA can tell you a thing or two about it. All conquest in the name of the church, religious wars and so on and so forth.

So stop eating chalk, you haven't even begun to understand the principle of humanity that Jesus preached.

It's actually religious abuse and unfortunately that counts for everyone who sees humanity as a weakness. It is not the strongest who survive but the most co-operative.

Wokeness

What does "woke" mean? - Meaning and origin

"Woke" - being aware of discrimination

"Woke", also known as "wokeness", comes from the English and means "awake" or "alert". Today, the term is used colloquially to describe attentiveness (vigilance) or sensitivity towards people from minorities and moments of discrimination. The wokeness movement focuses primarily on issues such as racism, sexism and similar forms of discrimination. However, the term is also often used to describe supposedly general structural and political grievances.

Origin of the term "woke"

The term originated in the mid-20th century in the African-American movement as an expression of awareness of social or racial oppression. One of the earliest uses can be found in a 1962 article by author William Melvin Kelley, which lists African-American slang expressions and is about white beatniks appropriating black slang. The term was taken up again more strongly with the start of the Black Lives Matter movement in 2013, which brought it back into the public consciousness.

Since June 2017, the word can be found in the Oxford English Dictionary . The OED has since described the term "woke" as follows:

Originally: well informed, up to date. - Now mainly: vigilant against racial or social discrimination and injustice; frequent use: "to remain vigilant"

Criticism of the woke movement

Despite the need for "wokeness" in society, the term "woke" does not only have positive connotations. Especially in conservative circles, it is also used in a derogatory way, criticising the woke movement itself. The main criticism is usually that "woke" people are too sensitive. At the same time, however, this also automatically raises the question of whether those expressing criticism are not themselves too insensitive or too insensitive, which sometimes leads to the formation of camps. The main criticism is that

1. being woke is only based on criticism

A frequent criticism of the woke movement is that being woke is often only based on criticising others for not being woke enough. This was also the case for Barack Obama when he said in an interview with the New York Times in 2019 that the activism of young people today is based on pillorying other people. This creates a black-and-white view that lacks room for dialogue and education. This is a problem because all people have more or less faults. Excessive polarisation is a pattern that is particularly evident in social media.

2. premature development of a cancel culture

Another consequence of a culture of discussion that would only consist of criticism would be a hasty development into a cancel culture, in which certain people or groups would be completely shunned in order to deprive them of a platform. The fear is that people or groups who otherwise do good things will be cancelled without giving them space for dialogue and development. Quirks would be penalised too much.

3. political correctness

The term "woke" is also controversially discussed in connection with "political correctness", which actually aims to strengthen the interests of minorities, especially through the appropriate use of language, and thus avoid discrimination. It is criticised for creating new norms that are sometimes perceived as censorship. Critics fear that freedom of expression will be undermined by a kind of moralism. However, even the freedom to address discrimination is criticised.

Most recently, the new Speaker of the US House of Representatives, Kevin McCarthy, spoke of "woke indoctrination in schools", which must be tackled. The term indoctrination describes vehement, one-sided, distorted teaching that does not allow for discussion, which is a central method of propaganda, especially in dictatorships. The extent to which the two terms can be connected at all remains questionable.

4 Woke washing and woke capitalism

We speak of woke washing and woke capitalism when brands, institutions or even individuals speak out against discrimination or grievances, but at the same time act in the opposite way or not at all. The criticism here is that companies in particular create a progressive self-image that is nevertheless subordinated to ruthless profit maximisation behind the woke façade. The image of a sustainable and equal corporate culture thus becomes a marketing strategy instead of an authentic identity.

Here is a simple definition of the rights for example (more of a fight call than a definition probably didn't pay attention to the definitions at school)

"Woke": definition and meaning

"Woke" means to be awake and committed and is a left-wing ideological term of struggle. Under the guise of "anti-discrimination" and the demand for "social justice", our liberal social order based on Christian bourgeois values is to be fought against at all levels and replaced by a socialist order.

Swiss political activists with a clear enemy image

And now a short definition from everyone who gets to the point (has probably understood what a definition is without propaganda and call to arms)

Wokeness

Definition: What is "wokeness"?

Wokeness is the attitude and movement of alertness and vigilance. It is the act of paying attention to what is happening in the world and wanting to remove anti-Semitism, racism, sexism, violence, environmental destruction, factory farming and other evils by raising one's voice in the mass media and on social media, on the streets and in the squares, in schools, universities and companies. In English, "to be woke" means "to be vigilant" against injustices of all kinds.

Prof. Dr. Oliver Bendel

[something-about-sunflowers]

I'm gonna block the op before I post this cause I don't wanna start any drama but, that one person in the steddyhands/adjacent tags with their 'List of things I promised not to do in OFMD fic/What I look for/want when reading/writing OFMD fic' post. Don't. . . Do that. You can preface with 'you can write your fic how you want' all you like but if you add a caveat of 'be aware of "the trends"' it comes across as condescending, demanding, and judgemental. Leave alone that you are not the arbiter of all things allowed in fandom/fic. Nobody needs your permission to 'do as they will' so to speak.

Anyway I'm gonna go through and pick out their 'issues' that annoyed me the most and talk about why. Read-more cause I know I tend to forget to do that when I'm writing essays/meta/etc and, seeing as they did too and it was a beast of a post I don't want to be that annoying on yall's dash.

'Is it funny'

Not everything needs to fit to your standards and not everyone wants to write a comedy.

'The Act of Grace needs consequences'

The AoG did not necessitate becoming pirate hunters. I think this may come from some confusion around Benjamin Hornigold? (If its not that then I genuinely have no idea where this idea came from tbh?) All it necessitated was becoming a privateer, essentially a legal pirate, one who only attacks enemies of the Crown. Which, yes, can include pirates, but moreso meant, like, the Spanish (navy/merchants/etc, remember: they're at war).

Hornigold is a bit of a weird one in that he was already kind of doing that when he was a regular pirate? He, historically, avoided attacking English ships, and eventually turned pirate hunter later on.

Its completely reasonable to assume that, in a time when the Crown was coming down hard on piracy, there would be some who would sign the Act when caught and then renege as soon as. You could obviously only use this tactic once but its a good 'get out of jail "free"' card if you're in a bind. That doesn't reflect on Blackbeard (or Stede/Izzy), especially not when he's pretty immediately back on the seas and obviously not working for the Crown.

That isn't to say there won't be consequences in the form of the Crown being pissed at losing Blackbeard though, I've got my fingers crossed for a third Badminton after all, but in my opinion its doubtful there'll be any consequences from the greater pirating community.

'No co-dependency (. . .) written about positively'

Fan fic is not your therapist. We already understand that these characters are flawed and that their relationships are unhealthy, even at the best of times. People shouldn't need to write their characters like they're trying to get an A in therapy, nor should they have to add disclaimers in the text (or author's notes) that 'this is unhealthy and bad'. If you can't separate the idea of these fictional characters and their relationships from reality enough to understand that, because the author doesn't hold your hand to tell you 'this is not a good thing' then you shouldn't be engaging with the fic nor the source material, to be entirely honest.

'[Izzy] doesn't need to blush and "make out like teenagers" for every story'

The back button is free. Not everyone wants an emotional deep dive into the psyche of these characters, some people just want to watch these sad old men make out and be horny.

'The [Revenge] crew should be careful about being visibly queer when they're at port'

Not everyone wants to deal with the idea of systemic/societal homophobia in their fic. Fan fiction can be a way to explore these ideas in a safe and cathartic way but it doesn't have to be and some people are more comfortable by excluding the concept altogether. I live in the damn bible-belt, I worry about it enough in my real life, I shouldn't have to read it in fic if I don't want to and I shouldn't be made to write it for the sake of 'realism' either. Let people have their escapism if they so choose.

'Use protection and lube-'

Fan fic is not sex-ed. Nobody has to worry about sti/std/pregnancy if they don't want to. Plus, its not exactly super realistic for them to have either just immediately on hand? Obviously you don't have to deal with realism if you don't want to and if you prefer for your own sake they have access to them then by all means but, while they existed, condoms weren't exactly a common item in the 1700s. Mostly available to the middle and upper classes and very likely extremely difficult to find at sea. They're pirates. They're not exactly known for being 'safe' in any sense of the word. Look up why the real Blackbeard blockaded Charleston sometime. Syphilis isn't fun. But this is fic and Syphilis doesn't have to be an issue if you don't want it to be!

And while I'm fond of the 'convenient vial of oil' its not as if the lube-less/spit-as-lube buggery is going to actually hurt anyone. Like I said: fan fic is not sex-ed.

'-Make sure nobody can hear them'

Lucius was fully sucking Pete's dick in the galley with Wee John sleeping right there. Maybe the only members of the crew with an ounce of shame are Jim, Olu, and Izzy; at the same time though? Nobody is gonna care. Lucius may tease (Izzy at least, Jim might actually kill him) but that's literally the worst that could happen. Ships being not soundproof is kind of the reason why they can't ‘make sure nobody can hear them’ and why they might not bother beyond 'not being directly in front of them' and even then, as with Lucius and Pete (and Fang), they don't really care one way or the other.

'F/F [is] often (. . .) kissing and fucking'

Yeah. This is the Horny Pirate show. People are gonna be horny about the pirates, whether they're old men or old women. People are allowed to be just horny about it. If you want more plot driven F/F then that's a you problem and you can be the change you want to see in the world. And don't come to me with any 'oh its fetishistic' BS either, it doesn't fucking matter so long as they're not reducing real human beings to their sex lives, people can do whatever the fuck they want with fictional characters.

'Izzy needs to learn to be his own person if he wants to heal'

I agree with this point. I still find it annoying because nobody has to go over all of that. Nobody has to even let Izzy heal. Some people just like angst! Not everything has to be hurt/comfort or a happy ending!

'If Izzy falls for Stede or realizes his feelings for Ed, wait on the confession'

Some people just want to get to 'the good part'. Not everybody is looking to write a character study and sometimes you just want to get to the romance.

'They're big adult men, casually lifting/carrying each other is unrealistic'

Doesn't have to be realistic, but, they're also sailors. They're used to manual work/physical labor. Sure they're all older but your muscles don't just immediately atrophy just because you're old, not if you're using them. But again, it doesn't have to be realistic! Its fan fic! Of a fairly unrealistic show at that! Selective (or no) realism is perfectly fine!

'Calico Jack's addictions'

Alcoholism is a really heavy subject and nobody should have to touch on it if they don't want to. People should be able to write about Jack without worrying about navigating such a heavy topic if they so choose.

'tag your dubious consent (. . .) correctly'

This is the one point I will fully agree with and endorse. The fandom as a whole needs to get better at identifying (and differentiating, they're mutually exclusive terms and have different meanings) non-con/dub-con in general. Only caveat here is you specified 'regarding Calico Jack/Izzy Hands' when its not a ship specific issue but a fandom wide one.

There's probably points I disagreed with that I skipped over and hell, there's points that I do agree with that I skipped over, but ultimately my issue is this: Unless there is actual harm being done, this type of post is unnecessary. There is not and should not be one 'correct' way to write fic. I understand that you gave a caveat of 'you don't have to do it this way' but if you're going to outline all the things you think people are doing 'wrong' then go on to say 'but that's just my opinion' it doesn't change the fact that its a shitty thing to do unasked regardless. 'Most of these don't immediately make a story bad' is incredibly rude to say.

There is nothing inherently wrong with 'fandom wide habits' if they're not actually causing harm. People infantilizing Ed (and the rest of the BIPOC cast/characters, if we're being entirely honest) is a fandom wide habit that can actually cause harm. People moralizing over Izzy is a fandom wide habit that causes harm. People not properly tagging their fic can cause harm. People writing fan fic that isn't to your exact tastes, regardless of how much of it there is, is not causing harm.

Nobody needs or wants someone playacting at being CinemaSins calling them out for using 'overused' tropes. If you're doing it for yourself that's fine but keep it to yourself and don't try and hold the entire rest of the fandom to your standards. Its fucking rude.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I went into the post office today still thinking about rather dark things. I was in a lot of pain, of course, so maybe it had gotten me in a mood.

Recently I found out that my brother has said horrible things, only horrible things, “never a kind word” about me to my one actual friend. She seemed amazed at how nasty he was. Maybe more hurtfully, he’d been telling her to never help me. I need to learn a lesson, you see, be punished for being a failure. Obviously I’m not trying hard enough, and if I can only suffer enough I will fix myself….

Yeah, I dunno either. My brother has been a painful mystery with his harshness for a long time. My parents worried, but were no more able to know what to so than I am. **What do you do to deal with a mindset that can be cruel, full of resentments, threats, and bitterness, that sees all the world in terms of enemies and battles? He actually lectured me once for not “hating properly”. It seems exhausting and sad.

Anyway, I limped in feeling upset with myself as much as hurt by my brother. After all, I am broken obviously. I work so hard for nothing, make no progress in anything. I feel lazy if I even rest when I hurt so much I’m crying out in pain, so when I’m accused of being lazy I find it too easy to believe.

So what happens? Oh, I get asked a out my day, so I start telling. And I laugh explaining why one of my hands is covered in something blue, why my injured finger resembles a cherry Tootsie Pop, why there are twig all in my hair, why my shirt has flour on it and I smell of spices, etc….I mean, it was just an ordinary enough day by my standards.

And so the wide eyed lady starts telling me how amazing I am. (The only compliment to seem more off base was my high school art teacher saying I was the coolest person in the school! LOL) She tells me I have a heart of gold. (Yeah, really! LOL)

She said I was one of the most beautiful people inside and out. (I resisted laughing, but it was hard)

She tells me I must stop taking care of other people all the time, and take care of myself. (Um, most of what I do is survival…you know, taking care of myself)

She tells me I deserve to take a day every week to pamper myself, just take a day off. (Not gonna happen, when my work is survival)

She tells me she is making it her mission before the end of the year to do a make over of me!

Actually that last one threw me the most. First off, a make over suggests I was ever made to being with!

It’s sweetly meant, but ridiculous. Nice as it might be to wear makeup once in my life, I can’t say I am keen on my being a living doll to be made up to someone else’s aesthetics. She insists it will change my life and everyone will be shocked by how beautiful I actually am, which is obviously absurd. Playing dress up can’t change a life, and no one will EVER think I am beautiful. And, even if I DID like whatever look, I sure as hell don’t have the time or money to mess around keeping it up, especially when my only audience for it would be the animals!!!

Then came the religion. Oh, she tells me, god knows how good I am. That’s why god keeps blessing me…

Um, if this is being blessed I’d hate to see what cursed is like!

And so she goes on about how everything is possible with god’s will, how faith like mine is rewarded, and on and on….

I’m not a christian. I’m agnostic, bordering on atheist. But I know how this goes. I live in a teeny town in the bible belt. You smile. You say thanks when they bless you or pray for you. You are grateful for the emotional intent. You never ever debate them or roll you eyes or…

And then an older woman came in, one that texts me when the weather seems dangerous. I haven’t seen her in person in years. Her health is rough, but her husband has never recovered from covid so he’s been hospitalized forever.

She sort of let me know she was hurt I didn’t always text her back. I try to explain my phone, which sounds feeble, and the post master jumps in to explain how busy I always am….And I ask about how she’s doing and her husband so everything is fine again.

A very strange thing happens. The woman is having some sort of questioning god moment. She’s using all the local language about praying and blessings and so forth, and the suddenly says: “But I keep wondering. I mean, a whole airplane full of hundreds of people, and it crashes. Was it REALLY the time for ALL those people all at once?!?”

She’s upset so you can tell it is getting to her, and the post master who is likewise religious thrown for a second, trying to think what to say from the grab bag of quotable they keep ready….

And I speak up. I tell her, well, thousands of people die every day, so why couldn’t many be in one place. And thousands are born too…

And so on.

I was doing the “well, if there is a god then couldn’t it logically work like this…”!!!!!

FFS, I, a skeptic to very bottom of my soul, was actually trying to soothe away the doubts of a believer simply because I don’t want them to be upset!! I was making the argument for religion because I felt she needs it, but what right do I have to decide that?

How presumptuous of me!

I should have said nothing I guess. Let the two religious women talk, see if the one unshakable could say something the one shaken needed to hear. But she was upset and what I said comforted her, and I never lied to her. I never mentioned god or spirits or any other mumbo jumbo. I just said a sort “ if this, then that” that I hoped help.

But it bothers me I jumped in like. I just encouraged someone to believe something I think is bullshit (not the “every day many people die” thing, but the “supernatural forced decide” implied part), and most likely have led them to believe I share their religion (which, to be fair, around here EVERYONE assumes about everyone else anyway). Hypocrisy and dishonestly about my beliefs are anathema to me and this comes perilously close.

So, today I went into the post office in a funk about myself, had a conversation that gave me an undeserved ego boost, and left in a funk again!!!

**I want to be clear about this, my parents were kind and generous people. Oh sure, they had their fill of frustrations (more than their share in Pop’s case) and anger, but it was never aimed like a weapon. They never wanted to hurt people, but to help them. His failing and mine are our own, mixed with “injuries” inflicted by the world beyond our home.

I know most folks blame their parents, usually understandably, but there are limits what even loving, smart, and well meaning parents can do when the chemistry of a child’s nature comes into contact with volatile parts of society . Boom. Explosions. Implosions. Everything changes and sometimes the results are poisonous.

[missbaphomet]

My personal relationship with the word "Queer":

I have always considered myself strange, or at least I've usually been the black sheep among my peers.

I was a horse girl.

I was raised as a catholic but never really believed any of it. I also live in the Bible Belt.

I was always ravenously curious about the world around me, especially in regards to things like medicine and biology. I would spend hours watching Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel back when they were educational. I've seen every episode of Forensic Files, Mythbusters, and Dirty Jobs a dozen times over. I loved shows like Monsters Inside Me, The Most Extreme Countdown, and Untamed and Uncut.

I was obsessed with books.

I'm the token "bleeding heart liberal" in my family (despite being a centrist).

I had by far the most fucked mental health of anyone I knew growing up.

I despise driving with a burning passion and had to be forced to learn.

As an adult, I still collect and sleep with stuffed animals.

I got really into Fandom as a young teen

I'm kinky

I know more than I probably should about torture methods

I love true crime

There are many other things, but these are a few. A lot of these may be considered normal elsewhere, but where I'm from and compared to my peers I was a massive outlier.

My point is there are a lot of quirks and idiosyncrasies that make me 'weird', but I have never once felt my sexuality was one of them.

I didn't come out as bisexual for a long time because I didn't realize it was something I could be. I genuinely thought everyone felt the way I did. I didn't know anyone who was LGBT at all until I was well into my teens, and even then it wasn't something that was really talked about. As I got older I learned a bit more, but it still never really clicked for me until a close friend genuinely asked me if I was sure. Suddenly it all just kinda fell into place for me? It all made sense. I was bisexual, and I always had been. And you know what? Nothing changed. I was still me. It never made me feel strange or abnormal to be bisexual, it was as natural as breathing. Even when I came out publicly, nothing changed. My mom wasn't the happiest, but most of my friends told me that they had suspected I wasn't straight for years. Despite being in the bible belt, church on every corner deep south, most people who knew me were either already pretty sure I wasn't straight or didn't care. Of course I was apprehensive about coming out, but in my case literally nothing changed. It was never strange that I was bisexual, it was simply something I was and had always been.

And this is why I fucking despise being called 'queer'. I'm simply not queer. I am bisexual. I am myself. Being bisexual is normal, it is the most normal thing in the world for me. I haven't known a time when I wasn't bisexual, and neither has anyone who has ever known me. I have always been bisexual. This is my normal. There's absolutely nothing queer about my sexuality, and I don't see a reason to identify with or be identified with being 'queer', because I'm simply not.

I am normal. I am bisexual. I am whole and happy and unapologetically myself.

[vaporwavery]

aaaaAAAAA

You’re thinking ‘Aves this is not a reblog! This is a tumblr blog post!’ It’s my tumblr and I get to choose the content >:c

The content is me being sad ANYWAYS (tw for transphobia and mental stuffs)

I just cried, like a whole bunch. I’m a trans woman; been at it for almost 16 months now; and, living in the Bible Belt and all, I’m pretty used to shrugging things off. The occasional malicious misgender, my father never once getting it right and still treating me like his son even though he knows how I feel, the every once in awhile harassment, the bad dysphoria days, and non-trans related stress like money problems- though even then, I gotta be able to pay for my hrt

I’m not too great at processing things still. I can actually cry now, at least, but god sometimes everything gets me. This place sucks. Aside from my very lovely long distance partner, and a group I see every once in awhile on Mondays, I am very very alone as a trans woman around here. Even if there’s some I’ve met, and didn’t know, they are (very understandably given living in the southern US) not visible or open. It’s a constant of tiny little stressors, y’know?

How do I do this? I feel fine most days, but then there’s those moments, especially with the aforementioned group, my partner, where I just… feel *safe.* Really and truly safe. And then I go back out, continue living life, and it always crashes back down on me that I’m simply not at any given point otherwise. People around here, even friendly, aren’t always safe.

I wish I could just- do what I used to, and not worry about everything like that all the time- but in multiple ways, I literally can’t afford to, and sometimes, crying out my stress makes me feel better than just, I dunno, pretending it isn’t there at all. Even the nicest of cis people have expected me to be bigger, to explain everything of me to them, even my most vulnerable and private thoughts and feelings, and just-

I dunno. I’d like to live somewhere one day, hopefully, where people see me as me, and not some walking and talking political idea, or porn category, or traumatized mental patient. I always feel so incredibly hurt by things sometimes, and I’m always told to calm down. Grow up. Move past it.

Hate it here

[christinepanas]

Legacy

(A short fiction story)

“Do you want to take a spin in it?” Duncan asks Mallory as they stand in the parking lot of the high school, itself almost as newly minted as her driving license. Mallory doesn’t answer. She just stares at the shiny red sports car with the brown leather seats and chrome wheels. Her shoulders hunch forward, as if the added weight of her license makes her backpack too much to bear. She hesitates.

“I have to get home,” she says.

“But aren’t your parents away?” Duncan asks, opening the driver’s side door.

“Yes,” she says.

“What’s the hurry home?”

“I have chores.”

“I can drive you.”

“That’s okay. I always walk.”

“It might rain. I’ll drive you,” he presses.

He points with his eyes to a heavy grey cloud that has arisen in the distance. Mallory gives in and walks to the passenger door. The interior of the car is finished with wood. She runs her fingers along the elegant dashboard as he starts the engine. The aroma of the new leather seats reminds her of a pair of gloves her mother once had. They had been expensive. When she lost one of them, its mate lingered in her handbag, until one day it too disappeared.

“Waddya think?” Duncan asks.

She sits mute, watching as the sunroof silently opens to reveal the blue band of heaven high above them. A puffy, angelic cloud floats into the frame, and then disappears. She buckles her seat belt and folds her hands in her lap.

“Ready?” he asks, then puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot.

Mallory knows that her parents wouldn’t approve of her taking a ride home alone with Duncan. They are strict, especially now that she attends public school. They can no longer afford private school tuition. Most of her parents’ money and time now goes to the Rhys Owens Foundation and the Living God in Christ Pentecostal Church. But it doesn’t matter. She likes public school. It is noisy and colorful and filled with smells and sounds and voices that she otherwise would never have experienced.

The town is small. Many people know Mallory’s father from when he coached Little League. Duncan played on one of the teams. Everyone knows Duncan’s father because he owns one of the two banks in town. He bought Duncan this car for graduation. Lots of kids get cars for graduation and then they go off to college. Both she and Duncan will be graduating next month. Duncan will attend the same university as his father and grandfather and will one day take over the bank. Mallory’s parents have been too busy to help her with college applications to the Christian colleges they have chosen for her. Summer is coming and this year she will be running the Bible Camp. She can’t think beyond that.

“So, have you driven on the highway yet, I mean, besides for driver’s ed?” Duncan asks.

“Not really,” she replies. “Just to church and back. Around town for shopping. Once out to Table Rock lake.”

She is not all that keen on driving but there is no other way to get around. Some kids ride bicycles to school. A horse. She would be happier with a horse, she thinks. Once, Jonelle Williams rode her horse to school. It was a big deal.

“Do you want me to put on the A/C?” Duncan asks. She shakes her head.

He’s not a bad person, she thinks. He is polite and well groomed. She has never heard him swear or raise his voice in anger. But she only sees him in class or at the football games on Friday nights. Sometimes, he sits with her and her parents, but not all the time. He has lots of friends.

Once, her mother told her to invite Duncan to church. She didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to come to church. It was that she knew her parents would never condone her attending a Presbyterian service. It didn’t seem right that the invitation could never be reciprocated.

“So, where are your parents?” he asks.

“Dallas again,” she says. “Something for the Foundation.”

“You wanna listen to some music?” he asks.

“No,” she replies. “That’s okay.”

The drive home from the school is no more than five minutes, but they manage to pass by everyone in town who can and will report to her parents that they saw her in Duncan Wilson’s car after school.

As they pull into the driveway, a few drops of rain clink against the windshield. Duncan closes the sunroof. She sits watching as it shuts itself against the darkening sky.

“Do you wanna come in for a minute?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says. “As long as it is okay with your parents.”

She knows that it is not okay, but she tells him that it is. Old Mrs. Barnes from next door is no doubt watching them now, she thinks. She imagines walking over there and ringing the bell and giving Mrs. Barnes the name of the hotel where her parents are staying and then telling her to go ahead and call them. But she knows she won’t. She looks down at the ground as she counts the steps to the porch. Twelve today.

The house is large and is relatively new. Her parents built it when she and her sister were still attending the Christian Children’s Academy. Each time she opens the heavy front door, the first thing she sees is the memorial. The memorial honors her sister, Rhys. It occupies the wall that separates the foyer from the kitchen. In the center of that wall is a large photo of Rhys. In it, she looks over her shoulder at the camera, her smile bright and wide. Rhys smiled like a movie star. Everyone said it. The portrait is surrounded by seventeen smaller photos of Rhys, one for each year of her life. Below these photos is a table weighed down by ribbons and trophies and awards.

“Here’s the shrine,” she says. “The wall of memories.”

Duncan stares at the display for a few seconds and then gives her an uncomfortable smile.

Moving around the wall, she leads Duncan into the kitchen. He takes a seat on one of the four stools stowed under the kitchen counter.

“Do you want a glass of iced tea?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says.

“It’s sweet tea.”

“Okay.”

She pours him a glass and tells him she’ll be right back. Her intention is to go to her room and change into her cleaning clothes, but she finds herself moving down the hallway, counting the steps to Rhys’ room. It is spacious - almost as large as her parents’ bedroom. The carpet is pink. The canopy bed has twinkle lights. She turns them on and then looks around. This room, indeed, the whole house, seems to be waiting, as if Rhys will be back any moment. All her things are here, almost exactly as she left them. Her mother dusts and vacuums the room and washes the bed covers every week.

Mallory slips off her shoes and climbs onto the bed, staring up at the canopy. When she was ten, she was so jealous of this bed. It was like something for a princess, magical. Now, she feels nothing.

“Hey, where are you?” Duncan calls out.

“In here,” she replies.

Duncan follows her voice and finds her there, on the bed.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be in here,” she says. “But it’s not like I don’t miss her, too.”

She glances at a large photo that occupies a space where once there was a poster of a blonde Jesus praying, his blue eyes cast upwards towards heaven. Now, from under a tiara, Rhys the beauty pageant contestant smiles through the glass of a bejeweled frame.

“She was my parents’ pride and joy,” Mallory says.

Duncan is silent. She looks up at him. He is staring at the photo.

“My mother still cries every day,” she says.

It has been five years since Rhys died. And every day, Mallory’s parents grieve as if they have just received the news. She remembers that day, too. She was there, sitting on the sofa as two state troopers gave them the news. Her mother began to wail. Her father held his head in his hands. The troopers apologized as if they had been responsible.

“Our house is sad now,” she says.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“I better go,” he says.

She follows him outside to the car. As he opens the door, she stops him.

“I’d like to take you up on that drive,” she says.

“Okay,” he replies. “After supper?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“As long as it’s okay with your parents,” he says.

“I’ll call them.”

He agrees to pick her up at seven.

Inside, Mallory wanders the spotless house. She finds herself moving in numbered steps to Rhys’ room. Rhys’ baby shoes sit on the dresser. They are white leather with pink laces. She picks them up and sniffs at them, at the faint odor of leather and talcum. She opens the dresser drawers and stares at Rhys’ clothing. In one drawer are baby clothes, fancy little dresses and frilly little socks. In another drawer are pretty pajamas and little panties with the days of the week printed on them. In another are sets of shorts and t-shirts, and in another, socks and jeans. She takes out a pair of jeans and holds them next to her. They are too long. Rhys was tall and thin. She is not.

In the walk-in closet she finds Rhys’ Barbie doll house and the Barbies and their clothes. Dozens. They wear gowns, like the ones hanging in the closet. She feels strange and sits down. Everything sparkles. She picks up a Barbie, examines it, then pulls off its head. She does the same to the rest. Then the arms. Then the legs. She abandons their corpses in the bottom of the closet, leaving the door open and the lights on. She counts the steps as she moves down the hall to her parents’ room, her mind blank, her hands and feet numb.

The dressers in her parents’ bedroom sprout dozens of photos. Most are of Rhys. There are a few of Mallory. In one of them, she is ten, standing next to Rhys, who is fifteen and the recipient of a trophy. They are both smiling and holding hands. She feels an ache in her chest. She loved Rhys, too. They had been so close. The emptiness she feels has no words. Rhys was special. She was thoughtful and she loved Mallory and always knew how to make her feel special, too. Rhys never excluded her and always told her that she would grow up to be beautiful and talented. But that didn’t happen.

One by one, she relieves the frames of their photos. She rips the photos into strips as she goes, leaving them in the middle of her parents’ bed. She looks again at the photo of her and Rhys and slips it into her back pocket.

In the living room, more photos of Rhys with various family members smile into the emptiness of the house. These she has dusted every day for five years. A strange rage seizes her, and she begins hurling them into the fireplace, one by one, frame and all. All of the photos. All of the family. All of them, together in the fireplace. She stands there, holding the last one in her hands.

The last thing that Rhys had said to her was, “I’m sorry, honeydew, but you can’t come with me this time. I promise I’ll take you to the lake tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” But she didn’t come back.

Mallory wanders into her own room and digs with anger through her crafting supplies until she finds a Sharpie. She blacks out the eyes and mouths of all her photos, even the ones in her yearbooks. She dumps the contents of her memento boxes onto the bed and finds the necklace that Rhys gave her for her twelfth birthday - a silver chain with a delicate crystal cross. She puts it around her neck and resumes wandering the house, counting the steps as she tries to remember the sound of Rhys’ voice.

Now, standing before the memorial, she stares at Rhys’ forever blue eyes. Her arms hang at her sides. She stands there, frozen in place until the sound of the doorbell startles her. Duncan is back. She can’t believe it’s seven already. He has changed clothes.

“I’ll be right out,” she says, and closes the door, leaving him on the porch.

She takes off her blouse and replaces it with one of her sister’s t-shirts. It is dark purple. Fancy white letters spell out “Be the Light Matthew 5:14.” The words are surrounded by delicate flowers and vines. She brushes her hair with Rhys’ hairbrush and puts on a pair of Rhys’ earrings and applies some of Rhys’ lipstick. She leaves the house, not bothering to lock the door.

“Where do you want to go?” Duncan asks.

She has no ideas but manages to smile. They end up in the parking lot of the county electric cooperative, where a group of Duncan’s friends have gathered in their cars. They all admire his new red BMW and start asking him technical questions. Duncan is polite and introduces her, and they say hello, to be polite, she thinks. She says hello back.

“The sound system is great,” Duncan is telling everyone, and turns up the radio.

She gets out of the car and wanders the parking lot while Duncan shows everyone something in the trunk. The sun will be setting soon. She is supposed to call her parents at eight. They want to know that she is not doing something she shouldn’t. She never does. She is a good, dutiful daughter. She does all her chores and never complains. She tends to their daily needs. But they don’t see her. She is not their beloved Rhys, to whom they always devoted their lives. Even now. Rhys is still their entire life, even though she’s gone. What they have left is Mallory, the one who isn’t their golden girl or shining light. Mallory knows that she is just ordinary. She will never be Rhys. And no one will ever love her like Rhys loved her. She aches for that love.

Overhead, the sky is bright. There is a slight breeze. Duncan and his friends have moved on and are now looking at the engine of someone’s giant pickup truck. She doesn’t know most of these boys. She doesn’t want to.

She picks a few flowers that are growing alongside the road. They are purple, Rhys’ favorite color. She remembers being in awe of Rhys, tagging along after her and intruding on her and her friends. Rhys never complained and would pick her up and hug her and kiss her. Rhys would hug her to sleep when she was sad. Now the sad never leaves.

Mallory admires the flowers, then drops them on the ground next to Duncan’s car. The boys are now revving up the truck’s motor and laughing and whoo-hooing. It is noisy. She takes the opportunity to slip into the driver’s seat of Duncan’s car. The music is so loud it almost hurts. And then, she watches herself start the car and put it in gear, as if she is someone else, someone now tearing out of the parking lot in Duncan’s red car.

Her hands feel strange, gripping the wheel. Her heart pumps. She speeds towards Eagle Ridge, to that bend in the twisting road, where the cross stands, decorated with silk flowers. Rhys had been with her friends that day. She had been driving the brand-new car that her parents gave her for graduation. A shiny red convertible. Five years ago, almost to the day. She was late. Speeding to get home. She lost control. Too fast, the state troopers said. She had been going too fast and lost control. The car hit the rock wall. She died instantly, they said. Her friends survived. The rock wall saved them from plunging over the cliff.

The tragedy had brought the whole town together, everyone said. They had all loved Rhys. Hundreds and hundreds of people came to the funeral. They cried and hugged her parents as Mallory stood there off to the side and invisible, listening to all the condolences. Everyone kept saying, “what a tragedy. Such a beautiful young girl.”

Such a beautiful girl. Our princess. The light of our lives. Such a treasure. A real talent. How lucky you were to have those years with her. She’s with her father in heaven now. Jesus had called her home, they all said. And Mallory stood there alone, watching her mother’s lips move as she thanked everyone. And then later, after the kitchen had been piled high with baked goods and casseroles and platters of fried chicken, her parents wept and held each other as she watched, uninvited, her grief silenced as she went about her chores.

Behind her, Mallory hears police sirens. More than one. She imagines three or four police cars are following her. She imagines that in one of the cars are the same troopers who stood in the living room and told them that Rhys was dead.

She hits the gas. The curve is coming up. She knows it well. They drive up here every Sunday after church to tend the cross and honor her sister’s memory. Now, she can see it, the rock wall, and next to it the opening in the ridge that leads to the valley below. She veers toward the opening, looking up through the sunroof at the blue band of heaven above, ready to join Rhys there.

[scarletlizzard]

Oh my god thank fuck bc I felt like a fuckin English teacher being like “no, no, it’s there I promise!!”

Tw: religion talk

I’m curious about the lore! I think it adds another profound layer when you know that YOU (rose) come from the south which arguably has a different way of worship and relationship with god than the bulk of the country. It’s hardcore, people eat sleep and breathe god no question. At its core, Religion is putting faith into something you can’t see. The same can be said about love. Pushing further, queer love, especially in a place where it’s forbidden and frowned upon, is a religious experience. Sex has long been referred as the same, but it’s in a whole different realm when it’s between two people who are seen as abominations. You find that eternal life everyone wants in a place that everyone tried to scare you away from. Your lore is key to your work!!!

BUT ANYWAYYYY—that’s what happens when my meds kick in…I’ll look at pt 2 later. I literally wrote hand fuckin notes to keep track of everything holy shit.

- 🧊

Hahaha, the trigger warning is SO real!! No, you did a fantastic job, and I was thoroughly impressed!

Imagine I was like "no its just fuckin"

Which OBVIOUSLY YEAH it is, but there are always underlying tones and reasons in everyone's writing.

It's not called the Bible Belt for nothing!

I don't think people who aren't from the south will ever fully understand the depth of church, and christ, and Christianity, and blah blah blah. It is INSANE down here. There is a church on every corner you turn (I'm not exaggerating when I say this).

Every Sunday, the entire day is practically devoted to going to church. Get up early and sit for hours in a sermon, Sunday school to follow. Then you have Wednesday nights, once again devoted to christ. 'Small groups' where adults meet once a week, besides those two days, to talk about His word and intertwining it with your life, your relationships, your job, your hobbies. Youth groups. Bible study. It's in our school, our politics, our day to day lives, whether you want it to be or not. You simply don't have a choice! Can't buy alcohol on Sundays. Most "small businesses" are closed on Sundays. Why? God's Day!

And here's the thing, I'm not saying it's wrong. There is nothing wrong with it. If that's how you want to live your life, by all means. But when you tell me that God is going to punish me for loving a human? When you start using God as an excuse to spread hatred because you don't like something? That's an issue, and it seems to be getting worse instead of better.

Ohhh, I could go on and on about this. I've rambled too much already. Back to the smut 😋 🫶

Yeah, so basically, unholy, sinful, blasphemous sex = hot! 😊

Why do the religious undertones come through? Probably some deeprooted religious trauma I'm ignoring and will not ever touch on in my life. If I wanna worship a woman, hey, who's gonna stop me? If I get down on my knees and pray to the woman in front of me, you know? Hey, anyone? That's what I thought!

[alexcabotgf]

don't you think if they really committed the murders they would've reoffended by now? i'm not disagreeing because i don't know much about this case, but it's hard to believe that someone capable of a gruesome crime can go on living without getting in trouble with the law again

i get what you're saying, i've thought about it before and my answer is no. let me just preface this by saying i don't think baldwin or misskelley jr would've ever gotten into anything of this magnitude on their own, the general consensus is that echols was the ring leader (which i agree with), so i mostly want to focus on him here (btw misskelley did actually get arrested for traffic violations a few years ago, but that's a petty crime, i wouldn't think anything of it)

the reason i say no is because a lot is at stake for him now. he comes from a tiny town in the middle of nowhere bible belt america. according to this 1990 census, out of the 28k population a little over 5k were high school graduates, and only 1.2k had bachelor's degrees (10.8% of the population had higher education), the median household income was around $22k with over 6.4k of the population living below poverty line (and 98% having a determined poverty status). what i'm getting at here is the future didn't look very bright for him or any of them for that matter. none of them were rich or even financially comfortable by any stretch of imagination and had the murders not happened, they would've most likely not gone to college, never gotten out of that town and continued living the same way everyone around them was living. however, the documentaries garnered a lot of media attention, love and support, especially for echols (and a lot of money which is a whole nother issue), from the regular people (as well as celebrities) who still vehemently believe in his innocence. so while he didn't have much to lose in '93, he has absolutely everything to lose now. imo most innocenters and guilters alike know that they can't with 100% certainty say who committed the murders and at this point we'll probably never know, but if anything ever comes out about him or the other two post-release that will make the innocenters doubt his innocence, they will turn on him in an instant and he knows it

[monochromatictoad]

📚🍲📜 for the culture ask game! 🧡

📚: Are there any folk tales / local legends that you've told your f/o about?

So, living in America, especially so close to the Smokey Mountains, I love telling them about the cryptids. Especially to Gabriel since he was asleep when America was colonized. He especially loved the Fresno Night Crawlers and the Squonk.

🍲: Let's talk food! Are there any culturally-unique dishes you've tried making for your f/o? Are there any they've made for you?

I've made some American style food for them to try, and Gabriel likes American food while Kakuzu doesn't like how heavy American food is. Kakuzu doesn't cook much, but when he does it's mostly quick light meals, or sashimi since that is his favorite style of food. Gabriel learned to cook in the early 1000s, so he doesn't have as much access to make the foods he grew up with. Also, Gabriel is also from a time where he couldn't afford to be picky about his food.

📜: Is there a specific belief system or list of principles that people in your culture follow? How about for your f/o? How do they differ from one another, if at all?

Unfortunately, I live in the bible belt, so most of the beliefs are evangelical christian views. Gabriel hates it due to religious trauma and Kakuzu just hates how in your face it is. Gabriel had more strict Catholic views he grew up on, and later became a dark lord so, his beliefs are mostly in keeping his loved ones safe and that's it. Kakuzu's belief is mostly in making money.

[automatismoateo]

My therapist compared me to Hitler because I don't believe in God (WoT sry) via /r/atheism

My therapist compared me to Hitler because I don't believe in God (WoT sry)

I want to start this off by saying that I am a mental health/healthcare worker in the rural US and that I don't typically like to talk about my feelings about religion or spirituality for a few reasons - primarily because I don't see it as worth the energy, being in the Bible Belt. In 2021 I decided to try therapy, especially after the post?-pandemic weirdness that had settled in. While my employer-provided health insurance isn't terrible, it's not fantastic about copays and coinsurance either. All this to say that when looking for a therapist, I, like most people, am limited by budget and location, and additionally, the simple fact that the majority of simultaneously decent and affordable therapists are my coworkers. And I would rather die than come up in our EHR.

Somehow, I find a private practice therapist in my area who is miraculously affordable, has been practicing for decades, and who holds several licenses/accreditations. I am usually prepared to drive 30-60 minutes for anything I need because of how rural I am, so I was really excited to find someone that ticked all of these boxes, and as a bonus, was familiar with Jungian psychology. We exchange a few emails and schedule. He is booked for weeks and seems to be consistently busy in his practice. We hold an entrance interview to see if "he wants to work with me," which I appreciate, as I know I'm not a typical therapy client, and in the past I have met with therapists I've felt had nothing for me (but obviously needed the billing). We mutually agree that things feel like a good fit and that we are willing to work with each other. I want to note that at this point I have already noticed a few things that I find unprofessional, but not Hard Nos. They are things I expect in the area - posters or calendars mentioning God, a display for Dave Ramsey's Financial Freedom University, and a wall hanger full of brochures about Juice Plus. But again, these are things I was willing to shrug off as long as he never mentioned it to me during our sessions, and he never has. Mostly, I bring this up because I feel like it is relevant to the atmosphere of his office.

So at the present moment, we're about a year and a half in with each other. We have good sessions and bad sessions, which is to be expected in therapy. At worst, it's unproductive, or I feel like he is occasionally condescending. At best, it's intellectually stimulating conversation, and is validating of my experiences - which I typically have trouble verbalizing due to the struggle of translating feelings into words. But yesterday it finally happened: he strongly hinted (motivational interviewing iykyk) that I find myself feeling directionless due to my lack of belief in a God of any sort.

He initiates a conversation asking how I realized I was an atheist (tbh I feel like I'm more apatheist but it's not a conversation that's typically necessary to have if the working term "atheist" functions conversationally). He questions me in the same vein around my feeling like life is meaningless or purposeless: "then what DO you have to work for? When you die and you just ... no longer exist." I respond that if life has no inherent purpose or meaning, it's not necessarily a bad thing - we can create our own meanings and impose our own wills in our lives. To this, he says that this exactly what Adolf Hitler believed, and asks me if I can name anyone who held the same beliefs to do solely good for the sake of society and/or others. I hold eye contact for a few seconds after he finishes this sentence, then lower my gaze while I regroup. I stare into the menu of Juice Plus products he has spread open and propped up against an unused chair in the room. It reads, "The Power of Plants." After deliberating on how to respond most effectively, I reply "I do not keep a list of names at the top of my head, no," because 1. Who does that?? and 2. I was NOT prepared for this response. My worry is that he may have been attempting to provoke some sort of "angry atheist" reaction, as he has stated in the past that he does feel most atheists are this way. It's just as possible that I'm being paranoid. He says he feels like he's stuck with me at this point and that he's not sure what to offer me as a therapist. I express my openness to discharge if that is what he feels clinically appropriate, and add that I do not want to waste his time by just keeping myself on his books for my own comfort. He seems a little frustrated by this and says he doesn't want me to feel like he's failed me as a therapist, which I don't - or in retrospect, at least not in the way he is concerned about. We are planning to complete my next two booked appointments and then review our plan moving forward if we still feel stuck. He tells me that there is something to get to under all the layers that make up "me," but that sometimes life exists as a series of truths that have to reveal themselves to me in their own time. I again get the feeling he is making an implication about God. We continue the remainder of the session, wrapping up due to time shortly thereafter. He makes sure to close us out by paraphrasing a video he saw, in which Carl Jung is interviewed about his own belief, or rather as my therapist quoted, "knowledge" of the existence of God. I perceive this as a thinly veiled attempt at an appeal to authority, since Jungian psychology is ultimately what led me to this practice.

I leave. I cry a little in the car on the way home. I am exhausted by the neverending tapdance around my religious preferences. I bargain internally that I try so hard to be a good atheist - not that I even need to be to be worthy of respect! I participate in religious rites as socially acceptable, I have experience in having delicate conversations with individuals about God, and death, and the cold indifference of the universe.. None of this matters. It never does in the end. Not even if I am supposedly inherently deserving of unconditional respect by virtue of existence. Not to those whom my efforts to be tolerant and generative will always be overshadowed by my disinterest in religion.

It's been a whole day and my head is still reeling, and more than anything, I'm just processing this out loud. Obviously I have to dump this therapist. It just looks REAL stupid on me to return to a man who likened my fundamental beliefs to Hitler. Like even in the most flattering representation of this conversation, is it EVER a good move to bring up Hitler in a professional setting? Is being compared to Hitler ever used to make a positive testimony to your character? No! I promise that I'm trying my best not to demonize my therapist in typing all of this, but it all just looks horrible no matter how many times I go back to edit my language.

Maybe therapy just isn't for me. I spent a year and a half hoping and praying it wouldn't come to this point, and it did anyway. I guess I'm just in search of people to commiserate with, because I'm so tired in a way that's hard to articulate.

Submitted June 21, 2023 at 12:59AM by stripeyspots (From Reddit https://ift.tt/tKOcAQT)