#he quotes scripture in his communications!!!!

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

not totally satisfied with my novel on MI1 Ethan and gender I want to put it a different way for a second. MI1 Ethan embodies the tropes of a noir detective, an ingenue, a femme fatale, and a final girl, among others. He’s his father’s son and his mother’s daughter—he’s also his mother’s husband and his father’s wife—his mother is seducing him on his father’s orders. He tracks down the woman who has all the power he doesn’t and offers her sex just so she’ll give him the chance to set a trap. I don’t know what kind of gender that is but fuck it sure is

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once. 

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in. 

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it.  "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new. 

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences. 

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu. 

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling. 

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power. 

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper. 

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in. 

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.” 

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked. 

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel." 

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

[homelessnerd]

I have seen a lot of blogs that subscribe to the prosperity gospel/name it and claim it style preaching/inspirational quotes, so I want to address it as I’ve seen a lot of people be hurt by it.

For those of you who don’t know, this way of teaching attempts to use scripture to say that all Christians will be healthy, happy, have a good relationship, blessings, good finances, etc. “All you have to do is pray” and “You can do anything if you have enough faith” are common ideas even if they aren’t explicitly said. Sowing and reaping is another common idea that the pastors of churches who use this ideology use to ask for money from people, especially the poor because the promise is that if they sow a seed of money they will reap even more. It usually just leads to debt.

A lot of these things seem innocent at first, especially the inspirational quote style ones. One I just saw was a Bible verse that says “Whoever sows little reaps little, and whoever sows much reaps much.” And that is a good statement, it’s the Bible, but out of context it isn’t clear at all that the verse is specifically talking about offerings in the church. And later on in the same passage it says these offerings are for the needs of the saints (saints referring to all Christians for any Catholics who may read this) and thus implies that if you need the money you shouldn’t give it. It also says in the verse before it that the offering should be a willing gift and not an exaction. So it is doubly clear that this is not meant to be forced, it is meant to be given out of what you can give.

There is a whole lot more I could write on this issue, it spreads so broad. Rather than explain every single thing they say that’s wrong it would probably be a better use of my energy to say what is right.

God gives us uncomfortable situations, sometimes even dangerous ones. I was homeless for the first four months of my marriage. It was rough. We have debt. My husband has genetic medical issues. It still is rough. But through it all we have trusted God and he has given us something more valuable than all the money or health in the world could get us, and that is a solid community of believers that follow God’s word and urge us to do the same. Even when we didn’t have that, we still had assurance of our salvation and God to lead us through.

Life isn’t easy. People aren’t always healthy, no matter how much faith you have. Sometimes you are struggling with money and can’t seem to get what you need. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you give, sometimes all you get back is hatred for being kind. But there is one thing more valuable than anything in this world, and that is God. So don’t cling to what God can give you, trust him and follow him through everything that does happen. God works all things (good and bad, some things he doesn’t throw at us but instead a fallen world does) for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.

[and-her-saints]

Hey sorry idk if you'd know this but I quite literally don't know where to turn about this so I'm sending this ask to every queer+catholic blog I can find

Are there *any* resources out there for queer/trans Catholics that go beyond affirmation and show how to pursue a religious life that goes beyond the laity (e.g. priesthood, joining a convent/monastery, something similar) without having to brush your queerness aside. I feel like if I don't find something soon I might go insane

years ago, i attended a Zoom event with Fr. James Alison as a keynote speaker, and something he said has been glued to my brain ever since. he said it in Spanish, so i'll try to remember, paraphrase and translate: "while they try to get us to stop being queer, what we must try to do is to be better queers."

i love what you said about "beyond affirmation" and that is precisely why i got reminded of the quote and WHY this quote resonated with me to begin with.

imho, there is a fundamental issue with a lot of queer theology and it's that it doesn't go beyond apologetics. it's not pragmatic nor does it seem to engage critically with the material conditions that work with or against queerness. and it's truly such a shame, because living "religiously" to me, as a queer catholic, it's infinitely more a matter of coherence, love, devotion and solidarity, than learning how to "reconcile" gayness/transness with the Bible.

it's a journey, of course. the apologetics were and are necessary for many of us to unlearn the hatred that might've been instilled in us through religious education and upbringing. however, here are some resources that, in my opinion, show how to pursue queer-religious-life.

💌 catholic/christian resources:

[book] The Reckless Way of Love: Notes on Following Jesus by Dorothy Day. Unlike larger collections and biographies, which cover her radical views, exceptional deeds, and amazing life story, this book focuses on a more personal dimension of her life: Where did she receive strength to stay true to her God-given calling despite her own doubts and inadequacies and the demands of an activist life? What was the unquenchable wellspring of her deep faith and her love for humanity?

[book & account] Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human by Cole Arthur Riley. Black Liturgies is a digital project that connects spiritual practice with Black emotion, Black memory, and the Black body. In this book, she brings together hundreds of new prayers, along with letters, poems, meditation questions, breath practices, scriptures, and the writings of Black literary ancestors to offer forty-three liturgies that can be practiced individually or as a community.

[book] Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor by Leonardo Boff. Focusing on the threated Amazon of his native Brazil, Boff traces the economic and metaphysical ties that bind the fate of the rain forests with the fate of the indigenous peoples and the poor of the land. He shows how liberation theology must join with ecology in reclaiming the dignity of the earth and our sense of a common community, part of God's creation. To illustrate the possibilities, Boff turns to resources in Christian spirituality both ancient and modern, from the vision of St. Francis of Assisi to cosmic christology.

[book] Undoing Theology: Life Stories from Non-normative Christians by Chris Greenough. The fundamental issue with ‘queer’ research is it cannot exist in any definable form, as the purpose of queer is to disrupt and disturb. Undoing Doing generates a process of ‘undoing’ as central to queer research enquiries. Aiming to engage in a process which breaks free from traditional academic norms, the text explores three life stories

[podcast] The Magnificast. "A weekly podcast about Christianity and leftist politics. The Magnificast is hosted by Dean Dettloff and Matt Bernico. Each week's episode focuses on a unique or under-realized aspect of territory between Christianity and politics that no one taught you about in sunday school."

💌 non-christian but still excellent resources:

[book] Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. A memoir by a butch hijabi that follows the experiences of the author through stories and figures from the Qur'an.

[book] Lean on Me: A Politics of Radical Care by Lynne Segal. Questions of care, intimacy, education, meaningful work, and social engagement lie at the core of our ability to understand the world and its possibilities for human flourishing. In Lean On Me feminist thinker Lynne Segal goes in search of hope in her own life and in the world around her. She finds it entwined in our intimate commitments to each other and our shared collective endeavours.

i don't think these are precisely what you were looking for. but i hope these resources bring you as much peace and hope as they have brought me.

[probablyasocialecologist]

For Fain, the Bible is more than a source of feel-good inspiration. It boasts a sharp economic justice edge, leaving no doubt that God takes sides in the perennial struggle between the haves and have-nots. He insisted that the UAW’s is a “righteous fight” and commented, “There’s one more piece of scripture I like,” citing Matthew 19:23–24, in which Jesus declares, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.” Fain went on to offer a hard-nosed interpretation, mapping the gospel’s stark contrast between the Kingdom of God and hell onto the inequitable landscape of the modern United States: Why is it easier to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God? I have to believe that answer, at least in part, is because in the Kingdom of God no one hoards all the wealth while everybody else suffers and starves. In the Kingdom of God no one puts themselves in a position of total domination over the entire community. In the Kingdom of God no one forces others to perform endless, backbreaking work just to feed their families or put a roof over their heads. That world is not the Kingdom of God. That world is hell. Living paycheck to paycheck, scraping to get by? That’s hell. Choosing between medicine and rent is hell. Working seven days a week for twelve hours a day, for months on end, is hell. Having your plant close down and your family scattered across the country is hell. Being made to work during a pandemic and not knowing if you might get sick and die, or spread the disease to your family, is hell. And enough is enough.

[...]

As anyone acquainted with the longer histories of Christianity and labor knows, there’s no paradox here. When Fain quotes scripture in the service of the UAW’s fight, he is tapping into a deeply pro-labor vein of Christianity, one that we haven’t heard much about in recent years but in its heyday helped galvanize powerful working-class movements. For countless workers throughout American history, traditional faith and labor militancy have gone hand in hand. In this wider context, Fain emerges on the national scene not as a paradox but as the latest in a long line of labor prophets who have stoked the flames of egalitarian faith and held big business’s feet to the fire. From the labor movement’s earliest days, workers insisted that they organized because the Bible told them so. Union-friendly newspapers brimmed with scriptural quotations. The Gospel of Luke supplied some perennial favorites: “Woe unto you that are rich! For ye have received your consolation” (6:24) and “the laborer is worthy of his hire” (10:7). Perhaps none was as scintillating as the fifth chapter of the Epistle of James, which reads, “Come now, you rich people, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming to you. Your riches have rotted. . . . Listen! The wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts” (5:1-2a, 4).

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

The Bell Witch Haunting

In the early 1800s, John Bell moved his family from North Carolina to the Red River bottomland in Robertson County, Tennessee, settling in the Red River community, which later became the present-day Adams, Tennessee.  Bell purchased some land and a large house for his family. 

One day in 1817, John Bell was inspecting his corn field when he encountered a strange-looking animal sitting in the middle of a corn row. Shocked by the appearance of this animal, which had the body of a dog and the head of a rabbit, Bell shot several times. The animal vanished. This was the first documented manifestation of the entity. Bell thought nothing more of the incident, at least not until after dinner. That evening, the family began hearing "beating" sounds on the outside walls of their log home.

The mysterious sounds continued with increased frequency and force each night. Bell and his sons often hurried outside to catch the culprit but always returned empty-handed.  In the weeks that followed, the Bell children began waking up frightened, complaining that rats were gnawing at their bedposts. Not long after that, the children began complaining of having having their bed covers pulled from them and their pillows tossed onto the floor by a seemingly invisible entity.

As time went on, the Bells began hearing faint, whispering voices, which too weak to understand but sounded like a feeble old woman singing hymns. The encounters escalated, and the Bells’ youngest daughter, Betsy Bell, began experiencing brutal encounters with the invisible entity. It would pull her hair and slap her relentlessly, often leaving welts and hand prints on her face and body.  The disturbances, about which John Bell had vowed his family to secret, finally escalated to the point that he shared his "family trouble" with his closest friend and neighbor, James Johnston.

Sceptical at first, Johnston and his wife spent the night at the Bell home. Things began peacefully, but once they retired for the evening, they were subjected to the same terrifying disturbances that the Bells had been experiencing. After their bedcovers were yanked off and James was slapped, he sprang out of bed, exclaiming, "In the name of the Lord, who are you and what do you want!" The entity did not respond; the rest of the night was peaceful. The next morning, Mr. Johnston explained to the Bells that the culprit was likely an "evil spirit, the kind that the Bible talks about." The entity's voice strengthened over time and became loud and unmistakable. It sang hymns, quoted scripture, carried on intelligent conversation, and once even quoted, word-for-word, two sermons that were preached at the same time on the same day, thirteen miles apart. 

The spirit grew stronger and more aggressive over time, particularly picking on John Bell claiming to want to kill him. Bell had been experiencing episodes of twitching in his face and difficulty swallowing for almost a year, and the malady grew worse with time. By the fall of 1820, his declining health had confined him to the house, where the malicious entity continuously removed his shoes when he tried to walk, and slapped his face when he recovered from his numerous seizures. Her shrill voice was heard all over the farm, cursing and chastising "Old Jack Bell," the nickname she had given him. John Bell breathed his last breath on the morning of December 20, 1820, after slipping into a coma a day earlier. Immediately after his death, his family found a vial of strange black liquid in the cupboard. John, Jr. sprinkled two drops on the cat's tongue. The cat jumped up into the air, rolled over in mid air, and was dead when it hit the floor. The entity then exclaimed, "I gave Ol' Jack a big dose of that last night, which fixed him!" John, Jr. tossed the mysterious vial into the fireplace. It burst into a bright blue flame and shot up the chimney.

John Bell's funeral was one of the largest ever held in Robertson County, Tennessee. People attended from miles away, and three preachers (two Methodist, and one Baptist) eulogized him. As the crowd of mourners began leaving the graveyard, the Bell Witch entity laughed and sang a song about a bottle of brandy. Her fervent singing didn't stop until the last mourner had left the graveyard. The entity's presence was almost non-existent after John Bell's demise, as though it had fulfilled its purpose.

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 49 Thoughts

Chapter 49 for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group!

Hasn’t it already been well established that Sun Wukong is not good with water infront of his brothers? Even if it had not explicitly been stated they could have still inferred as much. Then again Sun Wukong had gotten the help of the dragon kings before, who reside underwater, so that might have caused some confusion.

Would Tang Sanzang be like a whale fall for them? With the image of all the little creatures feasting on him it feels very much like a whale fall.

I believe this could be read as the other pilgrims sometimes forgetting all the things Sun Wukong can do. Like they get so used to him being around and just chilling for the most part that when the situation arises it is a bit of an ‘Oh right, he can do that.’.

Nice to see Red Boy getting some character development! Even if it is only off-screen.

Guanyin in casual attire does sound very comfy and not wanting to get all dressed up on a bad day is so relatable.

That she basically has a pet goldfish and is very unhappy when it goes missing is yet again very relatable. Something I really appreciate about most of these deities depicted in the story is that they are very human in a sense in these little details.

Also yes, that is a goldfish. Apparently with a big fanlike tail as well? Though don’t quote me on that.

Fun fact the original legend where Fish Basket Guanyin originates from is about her taking the form of a beautiful young fisherwoman in order to convert a town of bad men into Buddhists. Which she did by making them learn scriptures in earnest!

So the basic gist of it is that Guanyin came into the town as a beautiful young woman, who the townsfolk of course immediately fell for. So then she arranged a little competition to determine who she will marry which comprised of learning different scriptures like the Lotus Sutra by heart until a close deadline. They were also to recite it before her in public to which many other people were gathered as well, so they would automatically hear it too. The guy who ‘won’ did get to marry her kind of, but she feigned her death right after the ceremony, so yeah. Either way the teachings stayed with the community from then on. A pretty smart plan!

Now this chapter ended the arc, precisely how I would expect an arc to be concluded fully at the end of a chapter. Though this makes me wonder even more why this isn’t the norm, but the exception if it is indeed a possibility.

A bit of a shame that this isn’t the end of the volume or it would have been a perfectly round end.

[asinglesock]

I just got out of seeing a community theater musical and hugged some people I haven't seen for a while and heard kind words from a former professor of mine so I'm still kind of having an emotional rush from all that and it's making my brain go fast for the first time in a while

so

(cw vague description of irl murder & child death, religious trauma, apocalypse anxiety, martyrdom complex, dubious late-night exegesis)

I'm realizing that the pastor of the church my family attends is obsessed with eschatology in a way that's even more than the standard Oneness Pentecostal stance (itself really obsessed with eschatology). Wednesday night I overheard him talking before church and I realized that 1) he has been watching conspiracy theorists on Youtube and 2) some of this fixation really started to surface after his daughter and two grandchildren were mysteriously found dead 11 years ago.

(I also realized recently that my Sunday school teacher and her kids moving out of state and being murdered when I was 13 might not have been great for my emotional health. I need to revisit this.)

But after we found out it was like the only way we could cope was to be even more fervent than before. He invited an evangelist (who everyone addressed as "prophet") to preach a series of revival services. I remember that Prophet M was always talking about money. After a week of services, he gave each of the musicians $20. I'd just started doing church music (again, I was 13) and I couldn't believe he'd just give away that much money. But that week was the first time that a preacher calling for people to give sacrificially made me more doubtful instead of more enthusiastic. I started to hear the salesman tone in his voice. He took a lot more money away with him.

Tangent: I've been interested lately in how Paul talks about money. People are always quoting 2 Cor on how God loves a cheerful giver as a prooftext on the importance of giving money to the church, but it affects how I understand the tone of that when I think about the historical context. Paul is encouraging the Corinthians to give money toward the collection, but in 1 Corinthians he's very defensive of himself, saying that he never took money from them (see 1 Cor 9:15). This saying is part of the persuasive rhetoric Paul is using precisely because his Corinthian audience is not guaranteed to be made up of cheerful givers. I don't necessarily think Paul was exploitative irt money but it does change the feeling for me.

But I was talking about eschatology. Pastor usually talks about the End Times as a terrible and frightening thing. I used to find the End Times terrifying myself (I watched Left Behind when I was like 6 :/). But as I got older and started unpacking it, I realized that scriptures on Jesus's return and the resurrection at the last day and the New Jerusalem are full of hope. Even though there is definitely eschatological terror in the New Testament, a lot of it is pointed toward empire and oppressors. I couldn't understand why preaching at our church was always so frightened when preachers talked about the possibility of martyrdom--weren't we supposed to accept it because we had hope?

Then post-advent of covid Pastor's preaching has only gotten more and more paranoid. It built on what it always was--if mask mandates weren't the Mark of the Beast, they were preparation to make people compliant; restrictions on public gatherings were Satan warring against the saints; and every earthquake was a sign of the end of the world. The response to any natural disaster or war in other parts of the world was a kind of closing off, saying that this world will pass away but we're not of this world. We shouldn't care too much about the things of this world--but the "things of this world" even counted people's lives!

In retrospect, it's clearer now that Pastor saw his daughter and grandchildren's deaths as martyrdoms. There was speculation that his daughter was responsible because of post-partum depression (obviously it can do weird stuff like that and we wouldn't blame her if that were the case), but Pastor always believed that there was some evil reason--some cult or demonic influence or something like that. And in that light it makes sense why he'd anticipate the End Times as something grim and terrifying.

He's already experiencing the suffering of the End Times. There are cults of ritual murderers out running amok. Government officials conceal the truth. Why should he trust them? Pastor has a high school education and low technology literacy--he's the target audience for a conspiracy.

I don't know how this information is helpful, but it feels like unravelling a knot in my brain.

Anyway this is already long and rambly but I realized that their deaths affected how I dress. When I was 11-13 I wore really loud colors and tried to style my hair in complicated ways, with hair ornaments that were the only jewelry we were allowed to have. I was wearing a very bright blue dress with a very bright pink jacket the night the church learned about their deaths. It felt like I'd done something offensive, being there and wearing such bright clothes. I felt a sense of shame every time I wore either of those garments afterward--but I didn't realize it and I kept them for a long time. This developed my undestanding of modesty as not calling attention to self by dress. Since then I usually feel uncomfortable in loud colors or elaborate hairstyles--ironically, this made my personal style less obviously Pentecostal.

[dddragoni-drabbles]

There is a church on top of the hill on the north side of town. I was never able to figure out what it was a church of, exactly. There's no crosses or other iconography, no statues or tapestries, and the sign just says "Church of Amesville."

I attended a service there once. It was held on a Thursday evening- the pews were packed, some people I recognized, most I didn't. The preacher stood in from of the altar and gave a long sermon about community and discipline, but there was no scripture quoted, no diety mentioned.

Afterwards, I realized that I couldn't remember the preacher's face.

When I was a teenager, a buddy of mine dared me to sneak in. I dared him back of course, so we found ourselves there in the dead of night, just after 1 AM. I always did have a knack for lockpicks, so getting in through the back door was easy. It was dark inside, except for a few candles.

The two of us crept inside, trying to be as quiet as we could. We'd brought a can of spraypaint with us- the plan was to tag one of the walls in the main hall and get out. We'd gotten halfway through when I spotted something in the candlelight. A figure wearing preacher's robes, kneeling motionless in front of the altar. I tapped my buddy's shoulder, and as he turned to look, his foot caught on one of the pews. The figure at the altar, seemingly hearing the sound, turned toward us.

The next thing I knew, I was standing at the back door, lockpicks in hand. It was chilly, walking down that hill alone.

[tianrenart]

⭐ For What has been thank you!

My favorite scene that I always want to talk about in “What has Been” is the love confession :

“See infatuation. You’re letting lust rule you, Vox. I’m not another one of your fans wanting a chance to have a roll in the hay with this year's ‘most eligible bachelor’. I think that became blatantly obvious last Saturday.” Alastor scoffed, turning to leave presumably to check on his mother, but Vox knew he was running. Scurrying away from the emotions the brunet was confident Alastor was feeling but too afraid of.

“You don’t have to touch art to appreciate it.” Vox said earnestly, and this stopped Alastor in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, his smile wavering before pressing into an upward line. His mask was slipping and he was desperately trying to hold onto it, but at that moment Vox wanted it to fall. “I love you because of who you are, not what you can give me. I’m sorry about what…happened that night. If you never let me touch you, that would be ok. I just want to be part of your life. Give me that chance at least?”

Alastor turned fully to him as silence stretched between them. There was nothing more Vox could say, he’d laid his heart out, he’d told Alastor how he felt and the ball was now in his court. Conflicting emotions filtered over the redhead's face and Vox thought he could spot love and sadness in the final duel before brown eyes looked away. 

“I wish that all were as I myself am. But each has his own gift from God, one of one kind and one of another. To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is good for them to remain single, as I am. But, if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion.”

How many times had Vox let passion burn him? For years he’d stayed in an abusive relationship just to feel wanted and desired. Yet for just as long as desire and lust had caused him pain, he had steadfastly decided he’d never marry. Even with the option on the table for him to wed either of the sexes he was attracted to he still didn’t want to. As far as Vox could tell Alastor had no interest in marriage or companionship and his use of Paul’s words confirmed that in some way. A code like he had spoken when they plotted Vox’s escape. Alastor lifted his head and Vox saw sadness winning the war of emotions behind that ever present smile. Mismatched eyes stared into brown ones. Going over the biblical passage in his head. Going over everything he knew about the man in front of him so he could crack this code. After a few minutes of looking into the face of the man he loves Vox believed he understood what was being told to him. So he smiled.

“Not everyone can receive this saying, but only those to whom it is given. For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” He paused adding another verse, this time from the Song of Solomon. “You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.”

The short of it is that I absolutely love queer theory in theology. Yes this is a banch that exists, lol. The part of scripture that Alastor uses is the first time I came across queer theory in realtion to asexuality so I thought it very fitting that Al quote this to Vox in an attempt to explain his sexuality. I find it so beautiful that so many younger ppl have access to words and community that allows them to explain their sexuality and experiences, but I was much like Al. In fact I mentioned in the authors note how it wasn’t really until the 2010s that an ace flag was created. Alastor had no words to explain to Vox why he was hesitant to be in a relationship, all he had, the only common ground they both had in this was scripture. The thing that traumatized Vox. All Alastor had in an attempt to explain himself to someone he loves was to use the very weapon used against him. And that basically sums up his fear in starting a relationship with Vox. That he would only ever hurt him and that Vox would take that pain just like he had taken the abuse from Valentino. I just love this scene so much!!! Because in response Vox quotes scripture back. Not only a part of scripture that relates to Alastor but a part that talks about choosing to serve God. Vox is both saying that it’s ok if Alastor has a different relationship to religion than himself as well as it being ok if he has a different view about sex and relationships. That there is no “flaw” in Alastor simply because they have different views. It’s using religion as a form of exhalting love and sexuality rather than punishing it like Vox had experienced in his youth. It’s reclamation.

[not-so-superheroine]

My article on Doctrine and Covenants 116 (RLDS), why it should remain as scripture...

(...and white paternalism in the church.)

I never posted this here because I don't know any Community of Christ saints on tumblr (shout out to tumblrstake saints for letting me hang out with them) Please read if interested in RLDS/CofC D&C scriptures and how we can do wild things like remove scripture via common consent. Or if you are interested in an issue that affects/affected Black Saints in Community of Christ. Esp in the United States church w/ Black american Saints.

TL;DR at the bottom

I wrote an article on Doctrine and Covenants section 116 and published it on medium. I also sent some copies out to church friends in historical societies. This was winter/spring 2023. (i later found out it made it's way to the First Presidency bc the Counselor to the President reached out about it. ) D&C 116, in part, pertains to the ordination of men of color, with a heavy focus on Black men. The revelation the Prophet Joseph Smith III received from God is that it is God's will that men of all races be ordained. It was adopted into the Doctrine and Covenants in 1865. It also has less savory parts that were used to justify segregation. When I asked those who wanted it out felt that it could lead people away/astray. They focus in on their, not unbased, conclusion that the revelation stated segregation is God's will, and therefore is false. All of the person's who spoke against it in my life were white reorganized saints. I decided to ask my Black brothers and sisters in Community of Christ. Many who experienced the church during the era of segregation. And, as I had a suspicion, none of them/us wanted it removed and were against the measure. Some felt it wasn't appropiate to weigh in due to position. Some didn't like it but didn't want to lead a charge on it. Some were quite vocal and gave presentations to the unofficial latter day saint groups. Some heard of my work (a newbie convert. pre-baptism for part of it. that's while I'm still shocked), and tracked me down, to talk about the matter. Generations of Black reorganized saints who all, for different yet overlapping reasons, wanted it to remain. Many let me listen to them and publish quotes. In the united states, Community of Christ is majority white. I think this is the case for most Latter Day Saint churches. It is quite possible that the stake/mission center that presented this resolution to the Conference didn't have Black members involved. I hazard that this is the case. Coming mostly from a good place but also unintentionally condescending or harmful. So I had to do something about it. obviously.

I went to an Apostle's presentation on Prophet-President JSIII and D&C 116 and was like "can I help you with more work on this topic?" and he was like "no, but i can help you?" he gave me his short powerpoint presentation, recommended me a few books, and I got to work. https://medium.com/@wednesdayrjones/doctrine-and-covenants-116-is-significant-scripture-and-scripture-is-what-it-should-remain-11bbcee561c3 My personal experience with the section when I first read it was evidence of the prophetic nature of the church. I was happy to see D&C 116 because it was a step in the right direction. A big one. Similar verbiage can be found in the revelation on Women in the Priesthood. God tells us, and we acknowledge in the Doctrine and and Covenants, that the misuse of scripture too often harms marginalized people and the Church is called to repent of such practices. that's continuing revelation, sis/bro/sib

The 1st Prophet of the Reorganization, Joseph Smith III, earned my respect in part by engaging with him through this text. And those early Black saints, whose' testimonies' i read and hold dearly, certainly have my respect and my adoration. i hope to embody the hope for Zion and activeness in bringing God's kingdom forth that they had.

we (me and other Black saints involved and our allies) were successful btw. the resolution went up to the first presidency for them to decide, as it wasn't decided on at the World Conference by common consent due to time restraints (I did have a few delegates promise to read parts of my article during their time in the discussion period). The First Presidency made no moves to remove it and i am glad to have had a part in that.

TL;DR here is an article i wrote about Doctrine and Covenants 116 - Race in the Priesthood in Community of Chirst/RLDS. It was up for removal and now it's not. Much due to the work of Black saints, including myself, those I interviewed, and others I was blessed to interact with. let me know what you think or if you have any questions about it or Prophet-President Joseph Smith III or his politics on race and abolition as well has his father's (from his presidential platform. Prophet-President Joseph Smith Jr. The 1st prophet of the Restoration.), or books recommendations or my beliefs surrounding this scripture, the Doctrine and Covenants as a whole, modern day prophets and prophecy and Continuing revelation etc. Or for my fellow saints, this sounds similar or bizzare? and do you have any questions about things like World Conference or how common consent is used within CofC? Any comments regarding OD2 and similarities / differences? I love to talk about history, esp where it ties with my faith. and it brings to mind, what does it mean for scripture to be Inspired.

or let me know if this inspires you to take on a sort of project, church or otherwise. Learning the D&C in depth requires knowledge of the the state of the church and historical context in which the prophet is seeking answers for is so fascinating.

[nerdygaymormon]

Reading your quotes from church leaders/apostles over the years about homosexuality was extremely depressing, even though it was not unexpected. I remember reading the Mortal Messiah series by Bruce R. McConkie years ago and loving how beautifully he expressed so many thoughts and ideas about who we were in the pre-mortal existence and how we carry so much of that into our lives here on Earth. It was one of my first real introductions/deep dives into the life of Jesus Christ outside of the scriptures. I adored those books, and I had so much love and respect for the man who helped me strengthen my testimony of the Savior.

I also remember thinking, This is a man who would probably outright reject me or strongly condem me for being an openly gay woman in the church. Outside of what he’s written in Mormon Doctrine and other resources, I just… always imagined him standing in front of me with this look of reproach, disgust, or even indifference. An apostle of the Lord judging a sinful daughter of God. It was such a depressing feeling. Seeing stuff like this brings all of those thoughts back and reminds me that so many of the people I revere would never have accepted me in their lifetimes. Like… What would Joseph Smith had said about someone like me? It’s a sad thing to often contemplate.

To be clear, The Fourth Option on Instagram put together that list of quotes from LDS leaders. Wikipedia also has a pretty thorough timeline of quotes from LDS leaders about homosexuality, seeing that history is very sobering.

Being born in 1970, I heard many of those quotes. They did quite a number on me. As someone who looked to the church to understand, it meant I received many rejecting messages. I took those messages in and they lived in my head.

While the church determined how I thought about myself, over time this flipped. My being queer changed how I thought of the church and its leaders.

It's been difficult for the church to change. Change has meant the prophets and apostles of the past were wrong, which can raise questions about the current leaders and what they say about queer topics. Science has forced the church to move forward. Also the wave of queer Mormons coming out also meant many members knew queer folks and our stories and this changed hearts.

My granddad was a hero to me. He was a rancher and farmer, he was kind, he made a point of telling me how good people are in his community who aren't Mormons. He had children who left the church and made choices contrary to what he would've desired for them but he stood by them and made sure everyone knew he loved & supported them in navigating their own lives. He taught me many profound lessons about life and love.

And yet...he was clear in his disgust when gay people were brought up. He was a good man, perhaps the best I've ever known, but he had this strong prejudice.

I like to think if he'd lived to experience this change in how the church leaders speak of queer people, that he'd have shifted in how he understood things. However, that didn't happen.

People are complex and have their faults and blind spots. I have to accept this about my granddad and about LDS leaders.

[r3stless-mindz]

Day Twenty-three: Are You Up for the Task?

Daily Scripture:

Exodus 31, verses 1-3

"Then the Lord said to Moses, "Look, I have specifically chosen Bezalel son of Uri, grandson of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. I have filled him with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, ability, and expertise in all kinds of crafts."

Read it for yourself if you'd like! (Translation may be slightly different):

https://www.bible.com/bible/111/exo.31.1

https://www.bible.com/bible/111/exo.31.2

https://www.bible.com/bible/111/exo.31.3

.....

Quoting devotional:

At this point in Exodus, the Israelites had fled Egypt and were beggining to build the tabernacle. The tabernacle was a place where the presence of God would dwell, and there, the Israelites could encounter God's holy presence. To create something that was pleasing to God, the Holy Spirit had to be involved in the process. God had chosen Bezalel to be filled with the Holy Spirit and receive great knowledge of all crafts.

With the power of the Holy Spirit, Bezalel was put in charge of crafting the entire tabernacle, the ark of the covenant, lampstands with accessories, and the garments for the ministers and priests. One person was tasked to do all of this. Or was he?

In order to create the original tabernacle and all it's furnishings, God assigned a team of craftsmen to the job. They were given special skills and gifts. Even though God assembled a team to help, he still filled Bezalel with the Holy Spirit to lead the project. As a result, Bezalel was able to create something bigger than himself. The tabernacle was something that impacted all the Israelites.

You might be put in situations where God is calling you to do something great in your community. Ask God for help. The Holy Spirit can equip you with the gifts that you need. On your own, your strength is limited, but with the Holy Spirit, there is never a limit to the strength that can come upon you.

What can I pray for?

Today, pray that God will allow his Holy Spirit to fill you and give you the gifts and power you need to accomplish the tasks he has put before you.

.....

Have a wonderful day, loves!♡

[psalmonesermons]

Why be born again? Part 1

The regeneration of the human spirit

In our back-to-basics bible studies we have seen so far that two of the six stones in the barrier between God and man have been removed.

The first two stones were 1. sin which was removed by redemption and atonement and 2. the penalty of sin was removed by Jesus, dying on behalf of all men. This is called expiation. It is useful for us to bear in mind that any one of the six stones would be enough to block man’s way through the barrier to God.

Each and every stone has got to be removed by Jesus.

Today we are going to consider the third stone in the barrier which is called physical birth.

All people are born spiritually dead (we covered this in the study of the ‘Virgin birth.’ In Adam all die, Watchman Nee gives a good way of understanding this.

If your father, or grandfather, or great grandfather had died as a child then you would never have been born.

In a sense you would have died in your forebears who died as a child.

In the same way we were all in Adam when he died spiritually and in the same way we were born

spiritually dead. Adam doomed all humankind to spiritual death at birth. In our dead spiritual state, we cannot communicate with God.

1 Corinthians 2:9 But as it is written: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” 10 But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God. 11 For what man knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so no one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God. 12 Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God. 13 These things we also speak, not in words which man’s wisdom teaches but which the Holy Spirit teaches, comparing spiritual things with spiritual. 14 But the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; nor can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.

One of the main purposes of the Holy Spirit is to reveal to us all that God has prepared for the believers.

Such things can only be discerned by our spirit not by the soul nor by the flesh.

The natural (soulish) man (sometimes the soulish believer who wants to analyse be his mind) cannot receive the things of the Spirit.

Speaking of the Holy Spirit in John 16:8 And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment:

As you know, His convicting work is to bring a sinner to a realisation that sin separates them from God, and that only through Christ can they receive forgiveness of sins and life-everlasting, for only by faith in Christ can an unrighteous sinner be declared righteous in the eyes of God.

So we can conclude that the Holy Spirit has successfully preached the gospel to all believers.

The Word of God and the Holy Spirit usually work together to bring people to salvation (we remind our outreach team (the John 3:7 ministry) of this. Asking them to always start the conversation with a passerby by quoting the scripture.

Titus 3:5 not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit,

The Holy Spirit regenerates our dead spirit and makes it alive to God. This allows communication between God and the believer. We need to be born again to be able to hear what God is saying through his written and spoken word.

A surprising number of people have been saved by reading God’s word especially John’s gospel. This shows the Holy Spirit and the Word of God working together to bring salvation.

Amen

Personal Prayer

In Part 2 we discuss the famous conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus.

[santmat]

Hidden Christianity: Forgotten Scriptures, Ignored Saints, Misplaced Mystics

"Contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the Saints." (from the Book of Jude)

The Septuagint Greek translation of the Jewish scriptures, made for the Library of Alexandria, was literally "The Bible" of early Christianity, and it included several additional texts (Apocrypha) not found in other Bibles. A translation of it in contemporary English has been published.

Aramaic Was the Language of the Original Jesus Movement: There are impressive Aramaic-Syriac manuscripts of the New Testament that have been translated into English, and even older Aramaic-Syriac manuscripts of the four gospels. Discover the Peshitta, and the Old Syriac Gospels (Evangelion da-Mepharreshe) from Codex Sinaiticus.

Divine Light in the Dead Sea Scrolls: We next turn our attention to the Dead Sea Scroll discovery of Qumran, and hear selections of hymns (psalms) composed by the enigmatic prophet, who was the founder of this community in antiquity, known only as "The Teacher of Righteousness". Also mentioned is the Book of First Enoch, quoted by Jude in the New Testament, and a popular text at Qumran.

The Psalms of Early Christianity Are Back: The book where the Messiah perhaps for the first time begins to materialize, makes his first literary appearance in the first century A.D., is the Book of the Odes. This mysterious collection of ancient hymns written in Syriac, a dialect of the Aramaic language, has been described as "some of the most beautiful songs of peace and joy that the world possesses." These mystical poems and prayers remind me of Rumi and other Sufi poets. Sometimes I refer to the Odes as 'the would-be book of New Testament psalms', and I find the Odes to be a very spiritual book, one of the finest examples of a "lost book of the Bible" that got misnamed, misfiled and misplaced somewhere along the way. And, yes, it was viewed to be scripture in some places, such as Asia Minor, Syria/Mesopotamia and Egypt.

"The Lord has directed my mouth by His Word: he has opened my heart by His Light. He has caused His immortal Life to dwell in me, and permitted me to speak of the fruit of His peace — to restore the souls of those who desire to come to Him, and to lead a good band of captives into freedom." (Book of the Odes)

"Yeshua said, Come to me, for my yoke is easy and my mastery gentle, and you will find rest for yourselves." (Gospel of Thomas)

The Author of the Gospel of Luke Said "Many" Had Already Composed Gospels Before He Wrote His: We learn about Sayings Gospel Q, a collection of the sayings of Jesus. Quotes from it were included in several early Christian gospels. We also explore a translation containing over twenty gospels and surviving fragments of gospels from the early centuries A.D.

The Gospel of Thomas, A Wisdom Gospel or Gospel For Contemplative Mystics Seeking A Present-Tense Kingdom of God Here and Now: The Gospel of Didymus Jude Thomas the Twin, a collection of the sayings of Jesus, went missing for almost two millennia until three copies of it were almost miraculously discovered several decades ago: two sections of it written in Greek found at Oxyrhynchus, Egypt, and a more complete edition in the Coptic language discovered near a monastery not far from Nag Hammadi in Upper Egypt buried under the sands of time in a clay storage jar. This important lost book has been found again. Practically predicting it’s own rediscovery the book of Thomas says: "Know what is before your face, and what is hidden from you will be revealed to you. For there is nothing hidden which will not be revealed, nor anything buried which will not be raised." (Saying Five) Also mentioned is the possible inclusion in the Gospel of Thomas of a few sayings of Yeshua from another early Christian scripture known as the Gospel of the Hebrews.

If You Don't Want Your Saints and Mystics, We'll Tak'em! In the West, they might not be known, are not usually quoted, and their names are never spoken. Today we remember a few of the "orphan" saints and "homeless" mystics of Christianity, including those from the almost unknown community called "The Church of the East". Shared are excerpts from the out-of-this-world prayers of Joseph the Visionary.

This Spiritual Awakening Radio podcast includes a list of recommended reading: translations of the scriptures referring to above, anthologies of apocryphal writings, and also mentioned is the book, Disciples, by Keith Akers, a scholarly, rather thorough and impressive documentation of the vegetarianism of the Jesus Movement (Ebionites or Hebrew Christians).

Podcast: Hidden Christianity: Forgotten Scriptures, Ignored Saints, Misplaced Mystics -- Fragments of a Faith Forgotten -- Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast: https://youtu.be/uMjTEDdllHI

In Divine Love, Light, and Sound, James Bean Spiritual Awakening Radio https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com

[misfitwashere]

Happy birthday, Baruch Spinoza (Nov. 24, 1632 - Feb. 21, 1677).

Rationalist. Skeptic. Philosopher. Advocate for religious tolerance.

Baruch believed the Bible should be scrutinized in the same way as any other body of literature. He rejected Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch, a scandalous view at the time. Many of his ideas laid the groundwork for modern biblical criticism.

He was raised in a Portuguese Jewish community in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Eventually he was dismissed from his synagogue as a heretic. During this time, Baruch became friendly with some Mennonites in Amsterdam and The Hague. In fact, Dutch Mennonites were instrumental in getting his writings published.

Quotable quote: "How blessed would our age be if it could witness a religion freed from all the trammels of superstition."

Born in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Died in The Hague.

He never converted to Christianity, but he is buried in the churchyard of the Nieuwe Kerk in The Hague.

The below is often quoted with no direct attribution. It is acknowledged to be at best, a paraphrase of Spinoza's beliefs.

Spinoza:

God would say:

Stop praying.

What I want you to do is go out into the world and enjoy your life. I want you to sing, have fun and enjoy everything I’ve made for you.

Stop going into those dark, cold temples that you built yourself and saying they are my house. My house is in the mountains, in the woods, rivers, lakes, beaches. That’s where I live and there I express my love for you.

Stop blaming me for your miserable life; I never told you there was anything wrong with you or that you were a sinner, or that your sexuality was a bad thing. Sex is a gift I have given you and with which you can express your love, your ecstasy, your joy. So don’t blame me for everything they made you believe.

Stop reading alleged sacred scriptures that have nothing to do with me. If you can’t read me in a sunrise, in a landscape, in the look of your friends, in your son’s eyes … you will find me in no book!

Stop asking me “will you tell me how to do my job?” Stop being so scared of me. I do not judge you or criticize you, nor get angry, or bothered. I am pure love.

Stop asking for forgiveness, there’s nothing to forgive. If I made you… I filled you with passions, limitations, pleasures, feelings, needs, inconsistencies… free will. How can I blame you if you respond to something I put in you? How can I punish you for being the way you are, if I’m the one who made you? Do you think I could create a place to burn all my children who behave badly for the rest of eternity? What kind of god would do that?

Respect your peers and don’t do what you don’t want for yourself. All I ask is that you pay attention in your life, that alertness is your guide.

My beloved, this life is not a test, not a step on the way, not a rehearsal, nor a prelude to paradise. This life is the only thing here and now and it is all you need.

I have set you absolutely free, no prizes or punishments, no sins or virtues, no one carries a marker, no one keeps a record.

You are absolutely free to create in your life. Heaven or hell.

I can’t tell you if there’s anything after this life but I can give you a tip. Live as if there is not. As if this is your only chance to enjoy, to love, to exist.

So, if there’s nothing after, then you will have enjoyed the opportunity I gave you. And if there is, rest assured that I won’t ask if you behaved right or wrong, I’ll ask. Did you like it? Did you have fun? What did you enjoy the most? What did you learn?…

Stop believing in me; believing is assuming, guessing, imagining. I don’t want you to believe in me. I want you to believe in you. I want you to feel me in you when you kiss your beloved, when you tuck in your little girl, when you caress your dog, when you bathe in the sea.

Stop praising me. What kind of egomaniac God do you think I am?

I’m bored being praised. I’m tired of being thanked. Feeling grateful? Prove it by taking care of yourself, your health, your relationships, the world. Express your joy! That’s the way to praise me.

Stop complicating things and repeating as a parakeet what you’ve been taught about me.

What do you need more miracles for? So many explanations?

The only thing for sure is that you are here, that you are alive, that this world is full of wonders.

– Spinoza