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straynoahide · 18 days ago

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about / masterpost

(if you're looking for my previous pinned, Tolkien meta about the Ainulindalë creation myth and legendarium, it's available in the link)

hi!! since i've been posting more than fandom stuff, this is for potential/new followers or just people who are interested.

this isn't exhaustive and if you've landed here from a particular post you can just ask/DM me and i'll be more than happy to answer.

a bit about myself: you can call me Thry. i'm spanish, male, i self-id as queer/LGTBIQ bc of several reasons, and i'm a roman catholic of hebrew tradition. aside from a fandom blog i may post about several other interests like history, fantasy, literature, languages, theology...

i'll also often get into social issues and all sorts of politics, so i've tried to summarize my views and what you can expect. longer detail below the cut, along with what hebrew catholicism is about.

POLITICS

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:

-i first and foremost support universal-hearted democracy over autocracy, theocracy, and authoritarian dictatorships, that is forms of tyranny. some call these values 'secular humanism', although they predate liberal ideas of the enlightenment in a few traditions.

-i believe in principles over parties and political identities. i'm not a contrarian, nor a radical individualist, but i am radically individual and tired of external projections of incompatibility where i don't see it. "Y person can't be X" - someone saying that doesn't make it true.

-i think right-wing and left-wing are breaking down in most countries. i think identity politics are harmful and purely geared towards performative activism & electioneering. this benefits the political class and opportunists, not broader society.

-i believe western political philosophy overall has developed better societies due to individual liberties and self-expression values, although the enlightenment was crippled without the abolition of slavery, women's liberation, and other intersectional issues like those of neurodiversity, psychosexual diversity, etc.

-i believe fundamentally in western values, arisen from western tradition AND innovation. i also regard non-western intellectual traditions with respect. i reject cultural relativism as such, but i think we learn more when we don't see one tradition as all-good and others as all-bad which is simplistic and misguided.

SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC POLICY:

-all economic systems, which are epochal human realities, have flaws that artificially cause inequality and human suffering. i believe this can be ameliorated by reform. i don't think current understandings are exhaustive, so we should remain critical of 'theories of all' where science doesn't allow for actually accurate predictions.

-i agree with the marxian intuition that material conditions and the labor relations they enable, lie behind the cultural narratives and people's views on power and labor relations. in any given moment in history, people's worldview is shaped by what kind of society they can and do live in. economic changes lead to ideological ones. but ideals still matter and we should imagine better alternatives.

-i believe in workers' rights, unions and a right of peoples to revolt against tyranny, including ethnic communities, but also recognize not all revolutions result in better constitutions. all political revolutions so far, no matter the theory, created new hierarchies. statelessness is the abyss, so we should always tread lightly.

-i don't think any amount of social justice rhetoric can justify anti-egalitarianism, obscurantism, censorship, dehumanization or sadism. i'm anti-marxist / anti-leftist yet also agree with the marxian criticism of 'progressivism' as transversal - seeing the issues of collectives in the binary template of bourgeois/proletariat, advocating for identity politics - as fundamentally misguided and fruitless. the sectarian nature of many creates echo chambers and hate cults.

-i have some right-wing intuitions. i believe in the value of tradition, national and religious identity, and hierarchies of competence. i believe in the rights to life, liberty, property, self-defense, bodily autonomy, free speech and freedom to develop one's personality.

-i see national, religious rights as the rights of individuals to associate, but individuals should be protected from communities of coertion that place ideas over people. any person has more inherent dignity than being a vehicle of others' customs. i reject every form of chauvinism, racial or cultural. every community is entirely human. "nothing human is alien to me"

-i believe in inalienable rights. i oppose the capital punishment, brutality, torture, atrocity, and the exercise of collective punishment. i support accountability, rehabilitation, restorative justice, deradicalization, and (mental, holistic) healthcare. i center "victims" as survivors, an active party in their own healing, and reject all mental health stigmas. as long as there is life, there is hope.

GEOPOLITICS AND FOREIGN POLICY:

-warfare is the moral nadir of humanity and is itself a crime which disproportionately destroys young men physically and countless lives and hopes for the interest of a few, who often are safe from it. as far as i'm concerned, all wars are civil wars whether we're there yet emotionally or not. that does not mean i support equidistance between every two causes. diplomacy is not always a solution, or even option. i'm hawkish within reason, not a radical pacifist.

-i don't believe a "multipolar world" is necessarily better if the poles are tyrannical governments just because they're led by non-western imperialists who are "whitewashing" their intent with anti-colonial rhetoric. i support israel in its wars against iranian-funded jihadism and international antizionism. i support a free and european ukraine, democratic hong kong and taiwan, political self-determination.

-antisemitism is one of the most pervasive, insidious and oldest forms of discrimination in the world and the west. meanwhile, half the west is reactionary to LGBTIQ values and half the world remains traditionally violent towards LGBTIQ humanity, despite this being the highest point in human history in terms of individual rights.

-because of that, i think that together with anti-LGBTIQ discrimination, tolerance for antisemitism has become a litmus test in the XXI century for both illiberal and anti-western factions. these forces -reactionarism and antizionist antisemitism- are two sides of a same internal threat to the western world, susceptible to lobbying by foreign agents, like pro-russian and pro-iranian forces, for example.

-these interests will often result in the radicalization of young men to become ultranationalists, christofascists, revolutionary leftists, even jihadists (preying on western muslims), via disinformation / interference. far-right politics have become a proxy of political masculinism for a reason.

-understanding gender roles' impact on men, men's issues, male disposability, misandry, is key to deradicalization as much as fighting political propaganda that preys on young men to use them for organized violence. i no longer identify as a feminist, but i align with sex-positive, queer-friendly and egalitarian feminists. i also align with the defense of men's interests intrinsically and not because it serves any political goal. males are half of humanity and have all its dignity.

-i affirm jewish indigeneity. i'm a jewish ally from a place of recognition of jewish humanity, not political interest nor religion. i oppose all forms of antisemitism (white nationalist, christofascist, christian, secular, international, leftist, soviet, progressive, antizionist, islamic...) i support all the jewish people, observant or not, zionist or not, israeli or diaspora, as jews. as free and living jews. on "white jews": askhenazi indigeneity is intrinsic to jewish indigeneity.

-I/P: jews should have both individual rights, and also the right to a self-determined, secure national existence in their ancestral homeland. any caveat is an unacceptable double-standard and creates a two-tiered vision of human dignity i cannot see a compromise with in the future. never again is now.

PD: i don't think of myself in any particular terms, even less as a "centrist", rather than politically houseless. 'extreme' and 'moderate' are not principles, but distances from whatever is the overton window, so neither is inherently virtuous.

i hold some social views seen as progressive in the US and as transversal or demochristian in the EU; i also identify with many right-leaning positions, including some not present in Europe like the right to bear arms. i used to be an anticlerical leftist.

i can criticize right-wingers, leftists and centrists in the same breath with no dissonance at all. i don't think other cultures are exempt from western criticism either. if a certain political space is plagued by antisemitism, i'm not there.

RELIGION AND THEOLOGY

I'm a gentile Hebrew-speaking and Hebrew-tradition Catholic. What that does mean in our communities:

Roman Catholicism in Israel & Hispanic countries where there is a strong presence of the Bnei Anusim / Conversos / Meshumadim, and a particular if minoritary tradition. Hebrew language and liturgy is associated with the St James Vicariate in Jerusalem.

Relation of spiritual kinship between coreligionaries, jewish & non-jewish, as Catholics. Towards other Israeli/Palestinian Christians, same as any other believers, I support ecumenism. No specific relation or association with other Jews although most Hebrew Catholics are part of the Israeli national community.

What it doesn't mean:

Messianic Judaism (these accusations are fighting words)

Any heretical/schismatic movement away from the Vatican

"Christian Zionism", "Hebrew Christian movement", religious philosemitism with eschatological undertones, or anything associated with Evangelicals or Protestants

"Cultural appropriation" or claiming a Jewish identity

Proselytism towards Jews

What it does mean individually:

Hebrew Catholicism is a spiritual movement, not a single set of 'rules' or a denomination. All rites are Catholic. Observance of Mosaic traditions occurs as cultural and family heritage and NOT as religious observance of Judaism, to different degrees. It is entirely optional but welcome and cherished by all members as Christians make no ethnic or national distinctions.

It represents a historical reversal of the de-hebraization of ethnic Sephardim who have come to sincere belief. This is about heritage, mixed families, fraternity, faith, etc; and about the right to have a national and religious identity at spiritual ease and in social harmony. It may include things like dietary restrictions, holidays, prayers, etc.

I speak some Hebrew and participate/observe some cultural traditions, respectfully, mostly through the study of religious texts. I do not respect people who oppose mixed marriages, families or conciliatory transcultural existence and values.

I know and recognize the anthropological ethnoreligious nature of Judaism, and believe that Judaism should be recognized as centric to Jewishness, worldwide. I also respect the ethnic Jewish identity in those Jews that for secular or other reasons dissociate Jewishness from Judaism, and still see themselves as Jews.

Christians in Israel constitute the infrequent situation of a majority Jewish society with a religious minority in a need of legal protections. I support anti-discrimination efforts for Jews who identify as Christian, as they still face legal and social challenges for their faith, including Shoah survivors who were Jewish enough for the enemies of life and shouldn't be a second thought in a national homeland. I stand with the broader pro-reform and interfaith spirit of solidarity in modern hilonim, not the vision of kahanists, hostile Haredi, (Judeo-)Christophobes, etc.

If you want a more detailed read of my views on Christianity, Judeo-Christian relations, Hebrew Catholicism, theology in general:

On Judeo-Christian relations (polemic against Supersessionism) - I consider Supersessionism one of two doctrines the Church has to seriously address theologically in the spirit of reconciliation, the other being Jewish Deicide, already rebuked decades ago.

On the spirituality of evil in society (somewhat related: destructive v constructive activism as the main pitfall of social justice rhetoric)

On bodily autonomy, religious identity, communities of coertion and heritage (regarding baptism and circumcision)

I may add more eventually

One last comment for people who read this - I don't apologize for voicing my mind and I take what anyone has to say seriously. I don't block people and I don't do 'DNI's.

I try not to be judgmental. Even if something is wrong or comes from unwellness a person is saying it for a reason. The reason is not always obvious at first glance, but it may be sth legitimate and worth being heard. I'm the kind of person who wants to know rather than not.

If you treat people like they're disposable just bc it's inconsequential to you, I'd rather you just go your own way, cos you're gonna find me irksome. I don't understand why someone who clearly doesn't like another person would go their way to like their posts or interact with them, which happens more than you'd expect. Be principled, or at least, be coherent.

For anyone else if you're unsure but open minded about things that's no problem at all, I try to be open minded too. Pls don't be shy if you wanna reach out and talk about anything!

#hebrew catholic #hebrew catholicism

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talon-dragonbeast · 4 months ago

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hii um feel free to skip this but I kind of need help

so I'm recovering from a huge tr*scum phase and I have realized that maybe kinda sorta I'm otherkin?

but I come from a huge therian hate phase and part of me is still stuck with bigoted beliefs-

before the wave of hate I identified as a furry but I think I'm feeling more and more like I'm otherkin or voidpunk even (I was voidpunk for a long ass time before and it feelt so nice)

I just don't know what to do with myself :( what if I'm otherkin? what terms do I use? how do I get over my hate?

how do I do this? do I need to have like an alter ego or something? how does it feel to be otherkin?

I'm sorry for so many questions and feel free to redirect me someplace else if you can't or don't wanna answer all of this

-🐕

hey, first of all, congrats on being able to leave your hatred behind! that must've taken some guts, im proud of you bud.

now, you are considering a new identity that you were previously taught to hate. thats amazing! but also hard. so, how to figure out if youre otherkin? the answer will vary from person to person, but for me, its a deeply ingrained part of my identity. when i started questioning myself a year ago, it was because i realised that it didnt feel good to call myself human. it didnt feel right, like i was lying to myself. i tried different species labels, to see what fit me the most, and when i found the draconic community it clicked. ive been calling myself a dragon for little over a year, and im happier than ive ever been!

if you think you may be otherkin or otherwise nonhuman, there may be a few signs that point you towards that. why did you start questioning? maybe you felt something wasnt "right" with you or your body, maybe you have instincts or urges that arent completely human, maybe you feel like you have or that you should have certain body parts that you currently dont, maybe you feel a certain connection towards a specific creature, or maybe you just... dont feel human!

i want you to take a piece of paper (or your phone if thats easier, but i feel like writing with a physical pen on a piece of paper makes your thoughts flow better), and to write down all that. make a bullet list, a little essay, a letter; hell, another ask for me would work too. make doodles on the margins when you cant think of anything else to write. draw yourself, draw the body you wish to have, draw the birds on your window or the pen youre writing with. dont worry about the correct terminology, about what nonhumanity is "supposed to feel like" or about how stupid you think this is. this is your journey, not anyone else's.

and when the feelings of hatred or cringe come up again (and they will come up), treat them like any other intrusive thought: acknowledge the feeling, validate it even if its a bit misguided, and then gently push it aside. dont get me wrong, its good to remain a bit skeptical; a critical mind is a healthy mind, after all! but theres a line between critical and hateful. one is useful, the other blinds you. i encourage you to learn as much as you can; hatred often comes from fear, which often comes from ignorance. to get over the hate you must kill that ignorance with knowledge. but dont worry, the community can help you with that!

since you asked, ill leave you some definitions under the cut if you want to take a peek. i strongly recommend you to not get caught up in terms or definitions though; figure your identity first, and then you can learn about the rest later. ill also leave a link to the alterhuman archive, in case you want to read about other peoples journeys:

otherkin: an umbrella term for people who identify as a nonhuman being on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. the term is popularly used for beings that come from mythology such as gryphons or fairies, but it doesnt have to be. this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

therian: shortened form of "therianthrope", its a term for people who identify as animalistic beings on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. therians can be earthen animals that exist or have existed on our planet like lions or cows, or mythical beings that are more animalistic in nature such as dragons (some of these use the label theriomythic, but it isnt necessary). this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

fictionkin: people who identify as a fictional character or species on a psychological/spiritual/physical level, partially or wholy. this identity is usually involuntary, and it cannot be turned off at will.

otherhearted: people who identify with a nonhuman or fictional being, instead of as it, to the point that it becomes a part of their identity. includes things like wishing you were this being, feeling like its your family, feeling represented by it, etc. this identity can be spiritual or psychological, and its usually involuntary as well.

copinglinkers/otherlinkers: people who voluntarily choose to identify as a nonhuman or fictional being, either for coping reasons, for confort or for any other reason. this identity is completely voluntary, and can be turned off as necessary.

#whispers of the dragon #talons asks #otherkin #nonhuman #alterhuman #therian #🐕 anon

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aswrm · 1 year ago

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Norman Brannon’s essay from Negatives by Amy Fleisher Madden

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By the time I moved back to New York after a three-year stint in Oakland in 2004, the gap between what we now call second and third wave emo had become truly pronounced. Texas Is the Reason -the band whose name will be seemingly affixed to mine forever-had only disbanded seven years earlier, but it was already clear that a curious mystique around who we were had developed in the interim.

The reason for this is obvious now: Our entire two-and-a-half-year existence completely predated the social internet. Which is to say that if you wanted to be a Texas Is the Reason fan in 2004, your primary source of research wasn't going to be Google, YouTube, or Wikipedia. It was going to be the physical records we released, whatever blurry (and often black-and-white) band photos we used for album artwork or press, the few dozen interviews we did for out-of-print fanzines, or maybe, if you were lucky, a fuzzy VHS concert tape transferred to DVD.

We had no choice but to be "enigmatic."

Of course, we, as humans, almost instinctively hate ambiguity. And our steadfast refusal to live with ambiguity, to truly accept it, more often than not compels us to fill in the blanks, to make up our own stories, to draw our own pictures. Some of these pictures may be "true enough." But many of the ideas we generate in the pursuit and creation of "knowing" often contain significant details that derive from the shared assumptions of a frequently centered majority. They reflect our stubborn insistence that the things we feel most connected with somehow must resemble a dominant, and there-fore, familiar image.

So I bring up 2004 because of the time I met a younger Texas Is the Reason fan through some mutual friends during that cross-country move, And I bring up the "mystique around who we were" because that random introduction actually marked the first time l'd ever considered that younger fans

of the band during that time might have no idea what we looked like. And I mention "the shared assumptions of a frequently centered majority" because a few days after that meeting, I was directed to this younger fan's Live Journal, Where, after writing up an otherwise pleasant recap of our lunch, the young man concluded, apropos of literally nothing: "I never knew Norm wasn't Caucasian.

It was kind of a shock."

"Quick-close your eyes and tell me about the first person you see when you imagine a 'punk.'

Are they Black? Queer? Female?

Gender-nonconforming?"

Before you judge, quick-close your eyes and tell me about the first person you see when you imagine a "punk." Are they Black? Queer? Female?

Gender-nonconforming? Or are they white, male, and cisgender? Don't feel bad. We all know how this exercise typically ends.

Which is why I can truly say I was not at all mad when I read my new friend's LiveJournal entry.

If anything, those two sentences, which had been composed with such matter-of-fact clarity, were something of an awakening to me. They showed me how seemingly innocuous (and yet ever-insidious) our assumptions of whiteness can be. Despite having played in hardcore bands for over ten years by that point, I was really only just beginning to wres tle with my life as a musician who is also a queer person of color, struggling to define myself outside of whiteness. And maybe for the first time, it occurred to me that in my misguided need to fulfill the more socially noble role of being "a musician who just happens to be gay and Latino"-as opposed to being a proud gay and Latino musician-/ was actively playing a part in my own erasure. Without knowing it, my new friend had simply highlighted a fact about the way in which unchecked assumptions often go on to become indelible parts of our cultural memory-and how that same cultural memory, once established, is then paradoxically deployed as "proof" for those earlier unchecked assumptions. How else could my brown skin be

"a shock" to anyone if not for a completely whitewashed conception of what emo (or hardcore, for that matter) looks like? Knowing this has changed literally everything about the way I navigate my identity in the public sphere.

But that was then and this is now, right? Surely the modern power of Google has eased our ambiguity blues!

"And if you believe most of the documented histories that trace emo's origins back to 1985, when the punk scene in Washington, DC, declared a 'Revolution Summer,' then why don't we ever talk about Amy Pickering from Fire Party?"

I want to tell you that so much has changed, and if it weren't for a Buzzfeed headline from June of

2020-published a full sixteen years after that Live Journal entry-maybe I could. Because when I read "Pete Wentz Is Trending on Twitter Because Many People Are Just Finding Out He's Biracial," my past suddenly became prologue.

It was kind of a shock.

Whatever rationale I used to dismiss the general lack of knowledge about Texas Is the Reason in 2004 simply did not apply to Fall Out Boy in 2020.

By then, we had already lived with fifteen years of Pete Wentz's face being plastered all over print and digital media. His band had been packing arenas and stadiums all over the world. Their music videos were ever-reliable multimillion streamers for YouTube. In fact, Fall Out Boy's undying success is perhaps one of the reasons why a book like the one you are holding is able to exist. And yet our assumptions of whiteness are still so embedded in the cultural psyche that, when it came to Wentz's experience as a biracial man, we saw people actu ally refusing to believe their own eyes and ears.

The idea of punk and emo as a white-dominant space had become so entrenched in our imaginations that a simple confirmation of one man's Blackness was enough to send Twitter into a frenzy.

I get it, Pete.

That's why, when I was asked to write something for this book, I knew almost right away that I would have to make a point about emo that most visual histories documenting this scene-and the wider punk and hardcore communities that came before it-have failed to properly capture from a collection of images alone. Because while a majority of the most popular and recognizable voices in emo and post-hardcore do in fact belong to straight, cis-gender, white men, there is and always has been a plurality of invaluable contributions to this scene from women, BIPOC, and LGBTQ+ folks. And far too often, many of these sometimes groundbreaking pioneers have been unfairly sidelined, if not redacted from the historical record.

When it comes to emo's origin story, for example, there are valid questions we need to be asking.

For one thing, could emo have even been called into existence without the arrival of Zen Arcade by Hüsker Du - the 80s melodic punk trio whose Bob Mould and Grant Hart are both queer men? And if you believe most of the documented histories that trace emo's origins back to 1985, when the punk scene in Washington, DC, declared a "Revolution Summer," then why don't we ever talk about Amy Pickering from Fire Party, the woman who literally coined that phrase and, by all accounts, worked tirelessly to galvanize that summer into being? Also, why do we seem to gloss over the fact that the entire first wave of emo that came forth from Revolution Summer was decidedly multiracial? Its extremely influential ranks included Fire Party's Nicky Thomas, Kenny Inouye from Marginal Man, Scream's Skeeter Thompson, and Shawn Brown of Dag Nasty (and later, Swiz), to name a few.

Of course, the work did not end there. Emo's second and third waves, which make up the substance of the book you are holding - and whose alumni include both Pete Wentz and myself-continued to give rise to an abundance of female, BIPOC, and LGBTO+ talent. Queer and trans musicians like Jason Gnewikow of The Promise Ring, Kaia Fischer of Rainer Maria, Steve Pedulla of Thursday, Vanessa Downing of Junction and Samuel, Pete Moffett of Burning Airlines, and the late Sarah Kirsch of Fuel and Torches to Rome have all played significant roles in defining the genre. BIPOC artists- including the majority of At the Drive-In, Victor Villarreal from Cap'n Jazz, Teppei Teranishi of Thrice, Jeremy

Gomez of Mineral, The Van Pelt's Toko Yasuda, Coheed and Cambria's Claudio Sanchez, Taking Back Sunday's Eddie Reyes, and Longineu "LP" Parsons III from Yellowcard, among others- have all stitched a diverse range of experience into the fabric of what eventually became emo's breakthrough into the mainstream. And the singular contributions from so many women of these eras simply cannot be overlooked - including celebrated artists like Caithlin De Marrais from Rainer Maria, Kim Coletta from Jawbox, Elizabeth Elmore of Sarge, Jejune's Araby Harrison, Tracy Wilson of Dahlia Seed, Pohgoh's Susie Richardson, Hayley Williams of Paramore, The Anniversary's Adrianne Verhoeven, and Shift's Samantha Maloney (who actually went on to play drums for both Hole and Mötley Crüe).

I am not even scratching the surface here.

No one book can do everything. But in using this space to share my story here-and in turn, telling our story to the best extent that my time and memory will allow-I hope not so much to "correct" the public record as I do to make sure that the existing record is more vivid, more rich, more complete, and ultimately, more true. Every time emo is reduced to the trope of "the sad white boy crying over a girl," countless scores of us are not only pushed to the margins, but quite literally pushed off the page.

To write these words here and now is to make sure those assumptions no longer go unchecked. It is to say, We are here. We have always been here. We will always be here.

#norman brannon #texas is the reason #negatives #amy fleisher madden

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cosmicangel888 · 2 years ago

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The 5D laws of Sacred Life ~ Divine Earth

I have experienced vibrational rape on every level, every dimension for the sake of another's ego, clout, the false and arrogant unhealed bidding system of what the devil wants, the wounded arrogance of selling human flesh and spirit in ego driven lack wounding

When you sit, dear ones, sit, before you wound the soul of another - know 10X's it will return and wound you and you will face until you have accepted and cleared It whole;

why are there addictions, obsessions, black magic, the chanting and ceremonies of taking, wounding, raping, bidding on the chakra's the name, the soul of another - when there is such emptiness within to seek what it takes

I have seen my images been chanted on, mirrored to darkness and giving myself to the devil, the jars of doom and hatred of the divine for a belief I am, the sense and essence I am - the discrimination of the witches that know not universal laws, and know not the truth of all essences of all foundations of life, so too I was the lesson for others, I was the story to what Source is, true prophets are, and for that to be, my sacred tongue, my sacred voice, to bring light beyond light, life, and what was done behind closed doors and fooled the innocent - I AM

The slashing of the sacred in my dreams and imprints, projections and spells of death sent day-after-day and I called judgement years ago = the continuing hate, discrimination, evasion of my life on every level and in every realm - I have seen you all - I know the precision of a thread of vibration and the intention of a word - this is what I know; truth is, value is, the story is; humanity arise, we are better than the abuse of another

Heal thyself - so your wounds do not become another's - know thyself and all is well - it is really that simple

The abuse of another, because you think, want, ache to take, to know yourself as another - or have or fill yourself with what is already within - the devil is only that of a wound and pain, trauma and drama that at some point was not your fault and in such, the master is one that sees and forgives all to create cycles of love and light -

Break the cycles of pain, trauma, abuse, and misguidance of the universal creational laws - creational laws supersede all human magic and unlawful witches, warlocks, and underground masonry groups egoically corrupting communities with greed, selling and bidding of life - wake up dear ones - wake up - who are you -

Arise - we are far more intelligent than the taking of another - in any way - you are love and light - heal thyself listen to thyself - forgive and let go - Source is

the devil works this way - to feed what is bottomless; and the devil will always come knocking for it is built on nothingness - the temptation to feed, the wounds of envy, greed, gluttony, jealousy of 7 sins, the wounding of the inner child;

we return to earth again and again until we get this -

Life is sacred;

All life, all children, all women, all tribes, all children, all elders - there is no religion better or above another, we are the loving grace of new life - sacred true easy and fulfilling - Soulful living is this way

Anything before you - transmute it - to peace, light, good will - all is grace

Blessings and light

Joanna

[email protected].

#ascension #enlightenment #awakening #Source #Creation #5Dearth #love #selflove #healing #healinghumanity

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caius-hhhhhh · 8 months ago

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THIS. Especially the point that Lucifer projects his fears onto Charlie specifically by putting her down and saying that her passion and her hopes are misguided and overindulgent — you know, like everyone else in her life has been telling her!!

He defines his relationship to her and all of her accomplishments with how they relate to HIS achievements and HIS power and HIS fears: I’m thinking about the first phone call he and Charlie share, where he’s like “What do you want girlie, you want a pony? You want the death of a thousand souls? Literally anything” “I need to speak with Heaven” “LITERALLY ANYTHING BUT THAT” yes it’s played for comedy, but effectively what Lucifer is saying is that he’s happy to do anything to support Charlie as long as he wants to do it, as long as it shows off his power (“remedial creation from me!”) and doesn’t rub up against his personal failures.

I want consequences for that. I want Charlie to be angry at him — and I’m so happy that she is, I’m so happy that she sees Alastor’s dumb little tentacle moment and goes “do you know what this is tangibly more than you have ever done to support me” and that hits because it’s TRUE.

(daddy issues below the cut)

Listen I know this is super incidental and almost irrelevant but I cannot shake it off my shoulders no matter how many fics or radioapple comics and videos and illustrations I see (and let’s be clear, this is not directed at shippers or fic authors or anyone, ship what you ship it is quite literally not hurting anyone <3) My dad acts like Lucifer. He’s an artist who shuts the world out from him when he’s working on a project, he’s more interested in his art than he is in his family (literally blew off his second wedding in order to go to work) — and when I was developing my career in a very similar field he was VERY dismissive of my own pursuits and goals. He simultaneously did not network for me, and also slung his own reputation around when he was introducing me to people who could help me develop my career and it is SO EXHAUSTING to tell a parent about your goals and aspirations and have them go “lmfao it’s a lot harder work than that. believe me, i’ve been there, you’re way in over your head”.

So I kind of hate the way Lucifer is portrayed because it reminds me so much of my own dad! Like, so uncomfortably so!! Charlie’s line about how “he only calls when he’s bored or wants something from me”? IT’S TOO REAL.

On the one hand, yes, I want these characters to face consequences for their actions and I want the narrative to make Lucifer change and be a better person. And on the other, I want a story that shows that sometimes people don’t change. The best thing I ever did with regard to my own shitty dad was to go full no-contact: to just get rid of every opportunity he had to take advantage of my willingness that he would change and go right back to making me feel shit about myself again. I want a narrative that says “if your blood family treats you like shit you do not owe them anything” — and that they are, actually, not a part of who you are. At the same time I know Vivzie really likes portraying dads that can acknowledge their shitty behaviour because it’s cathartic and good for the narrative, not because it’s realistic.

It’s tough to objectively analyse this sort of thing — especially considering I am, rather ironically, a Valentinhoe. This is a character. This is a story. These characters’ actions are being portrayed deliberately, and there will be consequences for them, and I do have a responsibility to engage with that in a healthy manner. But omg sometimes I do look at hell’s sluttiest waist and go “ugh, this guy” again: people that like Lucifer and find him funny and sexy? cool. nothing wrong with that. I’ve seen some really excellent art, I’ve reblogged it, I’m not allergic to him. But I still have to cry a little when, in one of the recent panels (not lvl up, earlier), Amir mentions how many father/daughter wedding dances will be set to More Than Anything. it sucks man

so thank you for (once again) providing such an in-depth and well-supported argument. It means a lot to just know I’m not alone in feeling like this

every day i contain my desire to slander lucifer on this blog.

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metalheadkells · 3 years ago

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aight i talked abt this on twt but i wanna hear ur thoughts honestly lol

SO! ive always thought that Mainstream Sellout is like, unintentionally authentic. like, he tries to have this deep feel to his music and fails to execute it with a great tonne of emotion, but the fact that he did fail is what makes it more relatable imo. cuz i mean. i Mean as an artist myself i have Felt the Cringe of trying to make Deep Content but then failing cuz my skills arent good enough. and the fact that Kells is out here unintentionally creating that story through the process of the creation, release and feedback of the project makes me go "y know what i like this. art is allowed to exist either way i like it"

like... it reminds me of a 13 yo try hard who wants to do some revolutionary shit but theyre. theyre still 13. and i think its kind of endearing actually especially considering that Kells is pushing 30 cuz like, its as if signalling, "just bcs youre an adult you dont Need to act prim and proper and mature all the time damn." you can say whatever abt Kells but i dont think you can call him a liar or some shit yanno? he is literally living the life in as a severely (over imo) hated artist

TLDR: Mainstream Sellout screams "i am cringe but i am free" and it does so unintentionally by failing to be a great album, except the failure is part of the success. hes kinda not lying when he says hes a mainstream sellout, and i appreciate his honesty

this is a mess im sorry but i need to get this out cuz djsnksms

also this is me impersonally speaking lol. personally i Lowkey have made an emotional attachment to this album and i rock to Emo Girl, Born with Horns and also get emotional during Twin Flame. i think that awoogie boing boing this is a good album cuz *car horns*

thank

trust me, i also think the sheer amount of criticism he gets is excessive. i think his past inarguably ugly controversies combined w/ his 2010-justin-bieber/mid-2000s-nickelback/late-90s-fred-durst tier punchability to several key groups of music fanatics as well as ppl who just enjoy laughing and jeering from the sidelines have resulted in this monstrous distortion of who he is as an artist and a celebrity that - to me - feels pretty hyperbolic when your opinion of him isn't solely informed by gross old soundbites, provocative headlines, and his nu pop punk era PR mishaps. so many artists are not good people, but kells is a not-good person who also currently makes music that many are predisposed to dislike on principle, and markets that music using a persona that arouses Seething Irritation in territorial youths and older folks alike across several different online music communities. i say that not to deflect criticism from him but to explain why i think the Machine Gun Kelly Discourse cocktail is so crazy potent compared to those of some of his also morally dubious contemporaries.

w/ that said, the juvenile POV that people are lambasting in "mainstream sellout" is not new to kells, and i think any adult who is or was a fan of his should be able to recognize that. he has romanticized his own struggles with addiction and mental illness for a long time, and he hopelessly yearns for the posthumous deification that only artists who die young and tortured are awarded (kurt, chester, peep, juice). because, in his mind, maybe that is the only way he'd be as respected as he supposedly deserves to be. maybe then, everyone else would see what he sees when the clouds of discontentment part and there is nothing but pride in his own work and what it represents. i've always found it sad and misguided, but as a Chronically Mentally Unwell person myself i can unfortunately relate to some degree. i have no idea what my creative voice would sound like without the pain that created it in the first place, and i lowkey worry i would lose it entirely if i eventually managed to get better. i suspect kells, who has spoken at length in the past abt feeling like he needs to be miserable to create, hasn't evolved past that mindset either.

i've spoken before about why i believe i connected w/ Tickets so profoundly in 2020 and why i had been a fan of his work before that album dropped, so from this point i'll go straight into why "mainstream sellout" does very little for me in comparison. one key issue is that, taken as a whole, it doesn’t feel authentic to me in the way that Tickets did. there was no way for kells to know before he released TTMD that it would blow up like it did. he was making it because he wanted to. he was processing very fresh and very real feelings about major life events (his dad, for example) during lonely early-pandemic studio sessions. this was not an album that people were asking him for at the time. with mainstream sellout, on the other hand, there was a precedent. he needed it to be as successful as (if not more successful than) TTMD, so it’s like he was trying to reverse-engineer the appeal of that project, with limited success imo.

i don’t think certain factors that contributed to the success of TTMD can be replicated, because i believe they had to do with the state of the world at the time - but even if we set that aside, i just don’t think kells sounds “free” on mainstream sellout. he sounds like he’s trying to haphazardly balance everyone else’s expectations on top of his own desire to be unexpected, within a genre that has rigid restrictions for All Ye Who Enter Here. most of the songs ring hollow to me as a result - nothing for me to really chew on underneath the ornamental bluster on top with the exception of a couple of tracks. there are definitely some catchy hooks in here, and definitely a sprinkling of songs that made me go “fuck it, I’ll add this to my pop playlist,” but there is little to remind me of the MGK that i felt connected to once upon a time. i got more of that from his Billboard video interview than from the actual album.

i’ve mentioned this in passing, but i also find the title to be a disingenuous (and unsuccessful) last-minute attempt to assert his self-awareness to the public. he is not a mainstream sellout, because he was not “selling out” by switching over from rap to this style of music. he had been a mainstream artist before TTMD. he already had a sizable and dedicated audience to sell his new image to, even without the percentage of his OG fans who seem to desperately want him to return to his roots. “ironic” album names that might have suited his predicament better: -POSER!!! (all caps + exclamation marks necessary) -fake punk -cancelled (yes, like tana mongeau’s podcast) -ex rapper -eminem made me switch genres and all i got was this stupid album

and i was a fan, so i know very well that he always had an interest in various subgenres of rock music. that doesn’t mean that the people questioning his punk cred are totally off the mark. if he doesn’t want people to do that, he needs to avoid sweeping statements about his impact on “guitar music” and he needs to avoid labelling himself. i mean, if you write a song as ill-judged as “sid & nancy” at the same time that you’re boldly asserting that you know your history, people are gonna have shit to say about it.

final thing i will say is that your personal feelings about the album are completely valid, regardless of mine! i know it can feel weird and bad to like something that so many ppl are publicly shitting on, but if you like it you fucking like it!! for the record, i also enjoy “born with horns” and i can see the emotional appeal of “twin flame” even if the latter did not hit me the same way that “play this when i’m gone” did the night that TTMD came out.

#asks!#cupperskates #critical posting #music posting #kells #considered putting this in his tag just to offset the boring petty-insult-focused reviews #but i would like to be left alone so nvm #suicide implied c.f.hj/#this is so long and i could go on for longer. self-editing fail #mainstream sellout

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stealing-jasons-job · 4 years ago

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Dear fanfic readers...

I want to start this by saying I love you all. Seriously. I honestly wouldn’t still be writing fanfic if you guys didn’t exist. And I think that’s probably true of a lot of writers. We thrive on readers enjoying our work, leaving kudos/comments, reblogging, sharing with friends, etc. And 99% of people who read/comment don’t fall into this category.

But I have to address something. Er, I have to address a few somethings. Tonight, one of my dear friends received a nasty comment on one of their fics. It was, frankly, a mean rant disagreeing about the choices said writer made in the chapter update. But what really struck me was what they said at the end of the comment—that they admire the author’s work and that they are excited about future chapters. Which to me, meant that they meant their comment as a constructive criticism rather than to be purposefully hateful.

Which leads me to my first “something”:

Long comments about things you personally disagree with in a story is not constructive criticism.

I say this as someone who gives actual constructive criticism to writers for a living. Calling someone’s work horrible or hollow or misguided or flat or [insert long list of other adjectives I’ve seen non-writers call someone’s work] isn’t constructive criticism. It’s not constructive. It’s just mean.

Moreover, constructive criticism has to be founded on mutual trust. If you’re commenting on ao3 or Tumblr or Twitter on someone’s work who did not ask you specifically for constructive criticism, that trust isn’t there.

You’re welcome to your opinions about someone’s story or work. But you are not welcome to share those negative opinions when you don’t have consent. Even when you DO have consent, that constructive criticism needs to be well-structured to include real reasons why something isn’t working in a story (”I don’t personally agree with this choice” is not an example of a real reason) and ways to improve. That respect is the very least a writer deserves when someone is asked (notice how I bolded asked, bc it’s fucking important) to give feedback on work that they spent time and effort on. Which leads me to my next “something”:

Fanfic is provided for free, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cost something.

I saw a post on here recently (linked here) that talked about how fanfic is provided at no cost to the reader, but that doesn’t mean it’s “free” for the writer. And this is something I think some non-writers don’t quite understand.

Writing a story—whether it be based on characters from a TV show like this fic or based on original characters of your own creation—is a lot of fucking work. It takes hours of your time and so much mental energy. There's the planning and the plotting and the actual writing and the editing and the working up the nerve to post it so that others can see it and hopefully like it. And all of that labor, all of that emotional/mental/physical labor is done for free. So that the stories in our heads and hearts can exist and so that readers can enjoy them.

EVERY choice is thought out. Every. Single. One. Every conversation is considered, every dialogue tag is placed with intention, every choice the character makes is one we make first. And do we always agree with the choices our characters make? Do these choices always perfectly mirror what would likely happen in real life or even if another write were to have written the story? No, not always. But damn if we didn't have a reason for letting them make them regardless. Every facet of a story is considered—especially for longer fics.

So hours of work and a mountain of emotional, mental, and physical energy is put into a fic. Writers open up a door for readers to see into our minds and hearts and souls for these stories. And the very least readers can do is tell us when those stories resonates, and be kind and respectful regardless of if it resonates or not. Deciding to shit on a story because you don't personally agree with the direction the story is headed? That's heartbreaking. And irritating. And frankly unmotivating.

Which brings me to my final “something” of this post:

Negativity and indifference are killing Fandom.

We’ve all seen how Fandom (and I’m not just talking about one specific fandom, I’m talking about capital-F Fandom as a whole) has gone downhill in recent years. There’s less engagement with works, less discussion happening between readers/creators/writers/casual viewers of a fandom, and more writers/creators leaving Fandom behind.

That’s mostly because of negativity and indifference. There are a lot of posts about how people (and I include myself in this because I really need to do better, and I’ve been trying) need to make a mindful effort to comment on fics you like, kudos fics you like, reblog, retweet, converse with your favorite writers/creators, etc. So I won’t harp on that again here.

But negativity is another culprit here. Putting a fic or a piece of art out into the world is terrifying. More terrifying to some than others, but there are nerves and anxieties that go into it no matter who you are. And unlike paid authors publishing books or showrunners air tv shows, the only thing we get in return are the kudos/comments/reblogs/retweets from readers. That’s it. So when we put hours of time and effort and those little pieces of our soul into works only to be met with indifference or hateful comments (even when they are misguided attempts at constructive criticism), it makes the benefit of all that work less and less appealing.

I’ve seen too many writers abandon works and leave fandoms (including t100 fandom, specifically the bellarke fandom) because of this. And I hate it. We have too many talented writers and creators for that. Moreover, the world needs those talented writers and creators to keep making things they love for it to keep spinning (a topic for another long Tumblr post).

So how can Fandom be a better place for writers/creators?

First thing’s first, participate. See a piece of art you loved? Reblog it. Read a fic you adored? Comment something to that effect. Find authors or creators you admire? Reach out to say hey! Or just hit the follow button and interact with posts if you’d rather not say hi. We appreciate all of it and love you immensely for it.

But the kicker once you start participating is doing it mindfully. Think about what you’re commenting and whether it’s helpful or harmful. A long string of emojis bc you can’t put how much you loved a fic into words? We love to see it. Novel-length tags in your reblogs about your favorite lines? Will probably make our day. DMs or asks about upcoming chapters or fic ideas? We’ll scream our joy and talk your ear off.

A rant about how you thought the characterization of Bellamy in this fic was off? That’s not helpful if the writer didn’t ask you specifically for that kind of feedback. And hateful comments about how a fic needs to be updated sooner or how a certain update didn’t mean your qualifications for how you personally wanted a story to continue? Definitely not helpful (and a honestly a dick move).

I have no qualms about speaking on behalf of all fanfic writers when I say that we LOVE every single person who reads our shit. We thrive on people reading our stories and then telling us and their followers how much they loved it. No (kind) comment goes unnoticed or unappreciated.

So please, please, please spread kindness whenever you can to writers and creators. <3

All my love,

A fanfic writer who is terrified that negativity is going to drive all my fandom friends away, and who might get carpal tunnel if I have to write another novel-length rebuttal to someone being an ass on AO3 to one of my friends

#fandom #the 100 fandom #fanfiction #for the love of god be kind to writers/creators #this was long but like it needed to be said #so no regrets #y'all read 100k fics on the reg so y'all can read this lol #to all the readers who comment and kudos and share their fics #I LOVE YOU

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wanderer2somewhere · 4 years ago

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Okay, holy shit, turns out there’s a lot of shit I’ve been missing.

All the stuff coming out related to Scott and his politics has been disappointing to say the least, especially having come out during Pride Month.

I have never really liked divulging any personal information about myself here, but I’m not exactly straight. Honestly, it felt like a part of me was ripped out. FNaF got me into writing, the thing I hope to turn into a career some day. I don’t post about it as much anymore, but I’m still deeply in love with this series.

I loved Scott as a creator. It honestly feels like I’m mourning a loss.

Even so, I believe Scott when he says he had no ill will. I sincerely do. For anyone who knows his history, his politics, though immensely disappointing, are not surprising.

And I have never gotten the impression he was anything less than just a guy trying to do the best with what he’s got. I genuinely believe he’s an overall good dude who’s misguided in his attempts to do what he thought was right at the time. And, in a lot of ways, I still really respect him.

I disagree with the people trying to make this into a black and white issue. It isn’t one. The issue may seem so clear cut, and the answers so obvious to us. But it often isn’t, not in the slightest.

And as disappointed as I am, I am utterly horrified by the harassment and death threats directed at Scott and his family. You can’t do that and then claim to be the good guys. If you in any way support this harassment, you can fuck right off my blog.

Call me a bootlicker or LGBT+ traitor as I’ve seen some people do on here and on Twitter. That’s fine.

Criticism and disappointment is understandable. But I will not ever support the harassment and death threats of anyone. Again, if you at all support any of that shit, kindly fuck off. You ain’t better than the people you’re harassing.

But, I think that’s all for my personal ramblings and nonsense on the matter. With the news of Scott’s retirement from game development and the series “changing hands” as it were, I can’t say that I’m considering dropping it. Not sure I would even if he wasn’t retiring.

As I said, this is a series that just makes me so happy to follow and theorize about. And regardless of my feelings on the people at the helm, I just can’t see that changing anytime soon.

Edit:

Sorry, popping in again! I always end up posting something and then immediately go “oh shit did I mention x” or “aw shit I should’ve phrased that differently.”

So just editing a bit to add that, to be clear, I’m not at all suggesting anyone’s wrong to be upset by the news. You’re not wrong for deciding that this makes you want to stop supporting a creator. Of course not.

What I’m trying to say is that being upset and disappointed is perfectly justified, but harassment and death threats never are, especially when you’re threats involve people totally unrelated to the issue (like seriously?? threatening his kids??).

And also, there’s no shame in wanting to continue to follow this series, to play the games, to keep theorizing. Don’t ever be ashamed of separating the creation from the creator.

As I said, I still respect Scott as a game developer, and I truly don’t believe he’s a terrible person who just hates POC and LGBT+ people. But his actions, regardless of intent, supported an organization that directly hurts us. And it’s fair to criticize him for that.

Just don’t send death threats to people over it.

#fnaf #scott cawthon #vent #maybe??#idk anymore #personal

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years ago

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Lamb: Ch 4 - I’ll Be Good

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

Summary: “Say that again.”

His voice was gruff, gravely, but it wasn’t as filled with hate. You blinked up at him through wet lashes and sniffled in the most unattractive way. He brushed his pristine thumb across your dirty mouth. Striving to calm yourself, you looked away, but he wouldn’t have it. He turned your face back to front and met your scared stare with a level one.

“I s-said I’ll be good.”

Word Count: 3.9k

Pleased with his creation, Grandfather Sky Walker gave to the brothers a commandment: Fill my cosmos. Illuminate the farthest reaches with life.

Solo created First Man from mud, molding limbs and lungs in his own likeness. Imbued with divine spark, First Man lived but could not find balance. In heat, he dried to death; in moisture, he was shapeless.

Second Man was made of wood and could hold his shape but could not live. Once cut from the mother tree, he was inanimate, unable to carry the spark.

It was his brother, Ren, who counseled the Light Bringer to give of himself to create life.

One… two... three... four...

The grand clock carved into the wall chimed, shaking the walls, the floor, even your teeth. You glanced up from your book and glowered at the damnable thing.

You sat across from it, on the floor and tucked up into a corner. Trying to count the seconds between minutes morphed into trying to count the minutes between hours. Your determination bordered on obsession. Your head ached; your eyes felt doubly heavy, but you had to figure out the method to his madness if only to stave off your own.

To your surprise, The Ren allowed you to wander his keep; and in doing so, you discovered this monstrosity of a timepiece and that he did track its interminable, never-ending crawl. There was no way to know, however, if he did so in the conventional way as he dodged every question you put to him. It was always dark here, and it was a reasonable assumption that he marked the millennia in his own way.

Unable to work out his pattern, you abandoned the bid for your Scripture, choosing to pass the time, whatever it may be, with something familiar. But the cherished memories lifted from the words did not soothe you the way you’d hoped.

By your likely misguided calculations, ‘not today’ turned out to be not tomorrow, either. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

You did not see much of The Ren beyond that first day. After your healing bath, he deposited you in a room to sleep and disappeared. He’d been gone almost the entire time since then, only showing up to spare you five minutes. He would descend upon the room, wrap you up into his arms, and silence every attempt you made at drawing a single detail from him by kissing you senseless.

Each time his lips laid hungry claim to your mouth, you wondered if he was actually, truly touch starved. His hands roamed, fingertips luring your body into breathless response. The taste of his tongue drove you into the sort of mindless whimpering you assumed only existed for other people, it having been so absent from your own life. Decadently sweet, you all but sucked his tongue like a lollipop until something deeper, richer took over the luscious taste.

Dates. Almonds. Iron. It was elusive and intoxicating.

And then, he would go. It was the second day before you’d noticed it. He left soon after that coppery caramel slid down into your throat, and you didn’t see him until he wanted your mouth again.

He did nothing but kiss and half-grope you, however, and it was unnerving. What he said to you rattled around your brain endlessly. ‘You’re not ready.’ Three words set your insides to warring. Of course you were ready. You knew what to do. Didn’t you? What was it about him, specifically, that would demand you be more ready? What, exactly, did you need to be ready for? His dick? His child? The end of your life?

He rounded the corner to your little alcove just as you snorted in annoyance. You leapt to your feet and brushed away imaginary dust. Cocking a brow, he hummed and looked you over from head to toe. Following his line of sight to the meeting of your thighs, you flushed and tugged the hem of his shirt further down. He hadn’t given you anything else to wear, and you’d found what you believed to be his things in the room farthest from yours.

It was thievery or nudity, and you opted for breaking whatever laws he might have.

“You’re here!” You fidgeted, cheeks burning under his perusal. He took a step toward you, flattening you against the wall. “I.. I’m sorry about the shirt. I had nothing el--”

He quieted your babbling with a smothering kiss, capping off your surprise. Wrapping both hands around your backside, he lifted you up and into him until your toes nearly left the ground. You mewled and clung to the undersides of his arms, already pliant and ready from just the first sweep of his lips. He didn’t even have to demand entry; your mouth parted for him naturally, eagerly.

He was your drug, coaxing you to surrender with each caress of his tongue.

When finally he broke the kiss, he tucked your hand between his thighs, helping you palm the growing erection.

“Should I cut off this offending hand?”

His voice was thick like honey, and it stuck to the most debauched parts of you, pushing you fast to a throb you could scarcely ignore. You couldn’t help it; you shook your head and squeezed the rigid column against your palm. The pleased noise he made, the step he took to press more of himself to you, the flash of his eyes—all of it wound you up into this bliss, this euphoric dizziness. It would only be a breath before the next kiss.

“How,” you tipped your head away just before his mouth connected, “how was your day?”

He ignored you and captured your lips again. He licked them open and curled his tongue against yours. You sighed happily; he was opium in your veins. He dug his fingers into the globes of your ass until you squeaked and matched the noise with a rumble deep in his chest. He nipped and tugged at your lower lip until you moaned and squirmed.

“My days aren’t your concern, lamb.”

You blinked at the outright condescension, the jolt of reality into what could otherwise be a romantic moment. Taking advantage of your befuddlement, his heavenly mouth started a fresh trail down along your jaw to lick and suck at your pulse. As though to punctuate his desire for your mindlessness, he covered your hand with his and worked your palm against his length until he grunted with satisfaction.

Cursing, you waded through the mush in your brain, pushed at his shoulder, and twisted your neck out from under his marking teeth.

“Please…” You inched onto your toes to make yourself just a little less infantile. “I... I don’t have anybody to talk to. All I do is wait here and cry. You’re always gone, and you never tell me anyth--”

He bit into your throat so hard you punched him in the shoulder on reflex. Lifting his face, he threaded rigid fingers into your hair and jerked your head back against the wall with a thud. You winced and shut your eyes to hide from his ire. Would he ever think of you as more than a child?

“This is no fairy tale. You’re no princess.” He shook your head side to side until you opened watery eyes to look. You didn’t miss how his own gaze dropped to your wobbly lips. “You’re not here to play house. You have one purpose only.”

“I’m not doing that either, am I?”

Insanity, you thought. This was insanity. The snap in your voice echoed in the little hallway. You pushed at his chest and tried to shrink out of his tight embrace. It terrified you that he would make good on your bargain; and at the same time, the very fact he hadn’t done so aggravated you.

The ferocious look that crossed his beautiful features dried out your mouth, forced you to swallow the tantrum you’d been building. He sneered at your feeble attempt to push at his chest; and even though you knew it was an awful idea, you vomited words anyway.

“If you won’t talk to me,” you nodded, as though you could mirror gesture him into agreeing with what you were about to say, “you could just let me leave for a little wh--”

“No.”

He slammed you back into the wall, lifting you clean off of your feet. His features darkened, greying into haunted, and his ebony hair seemed to undulate. Stone fingers gouged bruises into your flesh, and it felt as though the very air in the room fled with the shift of his mood.

“I don’t mean leave leave.” You stammered and wriggled in his clutches like trapped prey. “You could go with--”

“NO!”

His bark crashed off the slate walls. Thunder cracked overhead, and you lifted a panicked stare to a black, foreboding ceiling. The expanse of his keep was closing in on you, stealing every atom of oxygen and launching you fast towards mania.

“You’re. Not. Leaving.”

The constriction at your throat stunted what little sense you had left. Foolishly, childishly, you barrelled on, but you could no longer tell if you were trying to placate the beast or truly escape.

“Please, if you would just let me go out--”

In the blink of an eye, you were dangling in frigid, open air just as you’d asked. Frantically looking about, you realized you hung just inches away from The Demarcation, the border to his territory, and his fingers wrapped so tight around the jagged collar you thought he was sure to break it. You clawed at his forearm and desperately tried to fight free.

“Fine. You want to go?”

The absolute malice in his voice laced your every blood cell with fear. His eyes settled into a steely gray just as onyx lightning split the sky behind him. Knowing what came next only made it more difficult to bear. Horror paralyzed you, stopped your very voice cold. You couldn’t even plead for his mercy.

“Go.”

It happened almost in slow motion, and you wondered if it was so he could watch the abject terror roll across your features. He launched you through The Demarcation, threw you away like garbage he no longer wanted to clutter his beautiful land.

You were dying before you even hit the ground. Arched up into a painful bow, your chest seized, no longer obeying your brain’s order to breathe. Your throat swelled shut until you produced only frothy, warbled wheezes. The wounds at your arm and leg spilled over, the spell he put upon you eviscerated.

In minutes, you’d undone the deal you worked so hard to secure. All of your prayers and sacrifice had been for nothing, trampled by your irrational mortal fear.

The Ren was right. You were witless.

Thrashing away from the too-bright sun, you fought to your hands and knees, face burning and eyes bulging. You wouldn’t make it back to that blessed silver curtain, but you strained for it regardless, crawling a few paces towards it before your body buckled. Collapsing into a filthy, bloody heap, you tipped your face up to that beautiful marker and stretched your fingers to it, begging once more.

“Da--”

It was the last and only sound you made. Your eyes dulled against the vibrant colors he’d tossed you to. Your fingers grew lax, muscles giving up the fight. Your already comatose heartbeat slowed further, drawing to its end.

Right on that line, right before you were too far gone, the part of his land still wrapped around your neck hearkened to his call.

You scraped over rocks and branches as it dragged you back to him. Just on the inside of the boundary, your chest seized again; but this time, it was from your lungs being jarred back into rhythm.

Your mind raced back into your body. As your senses came back, you howled in pain and scrambled away from him as far and as fast as you could. You shoved yourself between a thorny bush and a tree trunk, aiming to make yourself as small a target as physically possible. You exploded into tears and a litany of apologies and reasonings that fused into an incoherent mess.

He crossed over to you, fists clenching and unclenching. Twigs and bare branches crackled and snapped at his nearness. Leaves that turned their faces to his grace before cowered and curled into themselves in the face of his anger.

He certainly meant to toss you out again; and when he reached for you, you shrieked and lifted your hands to bat him away.

“Please! No, I’ll be good! Nono!”

With your head burrowed so far down into your arms, you didn’t see him crouch next to you. Nor did you see the array of expressions flitting across his face. The touch that came wasn’t angry as you expected; it was careful. He uncovered your head and lifted your chin.

“Say that again.”

“I s-said I’ll be good.”

He shook his head ever so slightly, and your face crumpled into a mess of ugly all over again at his displeasure. Slowly, he smoothed the lines on your forehead, just as he had before. It wasn’t gentle; it was more that he seemed to dislike them and didn’t want them there.

“Before that, lamb.”

If he meant to calm you, his instruction had the opposite effect. Your body quaked under the effort to contain the sobs; and when you tried to speak, they broke loose.

He wanted you to apologize some more. He wanted to hear you beg for his kindness. Shriveling further back, you jerked away from his hands because he would only get angry all over again. Silent, unwavering, he dug his fingers into the bony part of your knee, the command implicit.

You choked on the dread but obeyed, smart enough, finally, to learn the lesson.

“I said I’m sorry.” You had to stop to expel the worried breath you’d been nurturing. “I said I only wanted to go outside.”

You saw his features change this time, and you watched as his clenched fists eased. It was almost surprise you saw playing at the corners of his eyes, and you stared, mesmerized, as the storm clouds around his pupils abated. Pressing his pillowy lips into a hard line, he nodded and reached out to grasp your upper arms, digging in when you attempted to wrestle free.

“Take a breath. This will hurt.”

You chittered an objection, but he only directed your gaze to your sides. In your lunacy, you’d wedged yourself directly into a Crown of Thorns bush, and a multitude of its offerings now decorated and pierced your clammy skin. You hadn’t felt a single thorn, so complete was your meltdown.

Any further hysterics would only worsen your situation. If the bath’s temperature changed with your fear, you pictured these thorns lengthening with it, shredding you for your foolishness. Battling yourself to stillness, you plastered your stare to the very center of his torso and took as even of a breath as you could muster. Turning loose fingers to tight fists, you tried to ground and ready yourself.

Abruptly, he stood, tearing you from the offending foliage. To be brave, you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out, but some emotion and pain still spilled over your stained cheeks and chin. He set you on your feet but held you through the off-balance sway and buckle of your knees.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him because you didn’t know what to do now. He told you before that he would not keep saving you from your own stupidity, and you wagered this counted as high on the stupid list. He’d also literally thrown you out of not only his keep, where the magic healing bath was, but his very land.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

It was scarcely more than a whisper, and the honesty you poured into that one sentence shocked even you. But what else could you do? You weren’t alive any longer. To leave here meant the end of existence. You also weren’t getting any nearer to your goal, the promise he withheld.

“Take this off.”

Deft fingers tugged the hem of his shirt up over your hip, but you dared not blink, beg, or even breathe. You fought the impulse to squirm and shucked the thing slowly, trying in vain to not vocalize your discomfort as the thing jostled and disrupted the thorns in your flesh.

Despite your nervousness, your body warmed for him, swelling and tightening in all the right places. Your sex pulsed. Your nipples stiffened. Saliva pooled under your tongue.

And all you could think was that maybe he would finally fuck you.

“Have you always been such a stupid girl?”

The question shocked you from your stupor and drew up your head. He crowded into your space and obscured the extravagant, amazing, twilight-tinted details just beyond with his flawless face and indescribable beauty. His voice was no longer poisonous; rather, it was almost puzzled, weighted with something you likened to fascination.

Compared to his forever of unwavering duty, you were just another free-willed human, a wee babe in the face of divinity. Could it be that your curiosity, your recklessness captivated him? Interrupted the monotony of eternity with just a bit of idiotic life?

You had no answer. Yes, you’d always been a stupid girl. Yes, to him, you would always be a stupid girl. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, even if it would appease the only particular god you wanted to grant you favors.

“Close your eyes.”

Pinching your chin lightly, he tipped your face up further, thumbing your lower lip until you parted both. This time, you were certain you heard it — the ‘good girl’ barely on his breath. It slithered through you and liquefied each nerve and neuron. You wanted to hear him say it again, to make him say it again.

Your lashes fluttered against hot cheeks, and you were just about to disobey, just about to open your eyes when you felt something warm on your lips, wet but tacky. Your tongue darted out to test it, finding that familiar taste he always gave you right before he left.

Crestfallen, you forced your lips together so they wouldn’t quiver and nodded. He would leave you to... whatever you were supposed to do here. Pull out the thorns one by one, you guessed. Sleep on the ground. Live on the outskirts until he tired of you.

The brush of his thumb came again, though, along with a new smudge of that sticky, dark honey. Your temperature skyrocketed, and you hitched up onto your toes on a whimper. You clutched at the shirt covering his ribs to keep yourself upright; and when the third smear of that ambrosia came, you felt the very second you caught fire.

It was velvet down your scratchy throat, a sizzle in your fingertips and toes, and electricity throughout every muscle and bone. Beads of sweat sprung up to mingle with goosebumps, and your breath quickened to match the pounding tempo of your heart. On a low moan, you licked the last remnants away and bit at your own lip, lamenting the absence of that exquisite taste.

He rewarded the sensuous sounds you made with a scorching kiss, and you fell headlong into his lips, his arms, his body. Brazen, drunkenly bold, you wrapped your arms tight around his neck and molded yourself to him.

Too soon, the pleasant flames licking at your insides tipped over to needling, a constant stinging just beneath skin that suddenly felt too tight, too itchy. Tingling turned to angry pins and needles, and you hopped from one foot to the other.

“Burns,” you whimpered it against his mouth. “Hurts.”

He cradled your head and wrapped his arm so tight around your middle that you could scarcely breathe, but it kept you from wiggling free to run rabid into something else stupid. You tangled twitching fingers into his soft curls just to have something to hold on to as the fever he put upon you raged hotter.

“It’s what happens to stupid girls who don’t mind their surroundings.”

He mouthed the admonishment into your jaw line, not even disconnecting to speak. Even through your torment, you brooded, which only earned you a derisive chuckle, but he made you forget the self-pity with another candied taste of his tongue.

His clothes were too rough; his body was too solid. The tight embrace he trapped you in was too suffocating; it stoked the inferno inside your core. Panic rose up to dance with desire, and adrenaline sent you reeling. Your delighted chirps and whimpers toppled over into anxious objections. You contorted inside your delectable cage, suddenly needing to get away, be apart.

It was too much. He was too much.

He gripped and parted your buttocks, keeping you pinned. The chilly air lapped at your heated entrance and swirled around your tight pucker. It was just different enough, just the right balance to soothe your worry. You moaned shamelessly and rubbed against him like a feline in heat. He let your ass cheeks drop with a bounce and delivered a slap so hard to the left side that you hiccuped.

Breaking the sexy spell, he ceased his attack and nudged at your nose with his.

“Better?”

Finally brave enough to open your eyes, your breath caught at the sight of him. He also flushed from arousal. His lips were just as kiss-swollen. His eyes blazed, kaleidoscopes of craving flitting from color to color.

It did something to you to know you’d done that. You’d roused death to the whirlwind of living want and need.

“Mmhmm.” You stared at his mouth for a long, long time, working up the courage to ask. “Still not ready?”

He said nothing. In that silence, he searched your face for something you weren’t sure he would see. When finally he shook his head no, you licked your lips and looked over his shoulder to the billowing divide.

“Can I,” you faltered, not sure you could deliver but aching to try, “can I do something for you?”

Your question caught him off guard. You watched it play out on his face, something almost like appeasement, pride.

“Another time.” He smirked and set you down, pulling your arms from his neck. “Let me see you.”

Your brow furrowed, and you nearly crossed your arms in petulant defiance. He had whipped you into such a frenzy that you’d forgotten all about the thorns embedded in your tender flesh until he bent to brush away mud and grime from your outer thigh.

You gasped and started feeling yourself all over, hands rubbing where there should be wounds. Astonishingly, there was not a single thorn to be found. Whatever he’d fed you had ground them to nothing more than dirt, and he had spared you from the worst of it with all that delicious distraction.

Gratitude danced on the tip of your tongue, but he scooped you up into his arms before you could let it loose. Tucking your head under his chin, you curled into his chest and did your best to keep quiet.

If he was carrying you home, you didn’t want him to change his mind.

But when did it become home?

#kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #lamb

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libertarianbarbarian · 4 years ago

Text

Where I stand and why

WHERE AND WHY I STAND THE WAY, I DO

FACTS

-https://www.theasatrucommunity.org/sumarsdag-blot

-Odin,

Sky Father,

Highest of the Gods in Asgard,

From Mimir’s well you drank

For knowledge and wisdom,

A clear vision within,

A clear vision without.

Lord of Life and Death,

On Yggdrasill

Which spans all worlds, all life,

You hung in self-sacrifice,

And learned the sacred mysteries,

That do pierce the veil of all creation.

Mysterious and powerful are the ancient runes –

That you grasped unto yourself

And penetrated their deepest depths.

OPED-WARNING

Oh boy. Here we go, this is probably where I’m going to lose a shit ton of followers. So here goes nothing! I’m a follower of both Asatru and Odinism. This means that I am Norse Pagan. I follow Odin, Freya, and Thor. To my Christian followers just so you know I don’t overtly hate you, no I don’t follow a guy with horns, no I haven’t been to a mental institution…and not I don’t hear voices telling me to blow up churches…only on Sundays. Just a joke! Not a manifesto! Oh, God’s someone’s going to find this and try to use this out of context I know this. Ok here we go with the rest of the blog.

So it’s well known at this point that I served in the United States Army at this point…if it isn’t…well now you know. I went through some things while I served, some good some extremely bad, it kind of comes with the territory. I was a “faithful” non-denominational Christian at the time I raised my right hand to enlist.

I can’t really say I knew what it meant if I’m being sincere with you dear reader. I can say that I had been through a lot in my life, yes. I would pray endlessly, read my bible endlessly. I knew the old testament, the new testament like the back of my hand. Everything I said and did I tried my hardest…nothing. I can’t name one time that the “Lord and Savior” would personally send me a sign or let me know he was there for me or speak to me through his text’s.

I then began to fall off the “band wagon” so-to-speak. This was well into my career as a soldier. I was a democrat, part of the liberal hive mind that began to eat away at the culture that is not around our youth that is my age now. It wasn’t until after I was discharged from service, thanks Obama, that I had my very first real religious experience and was horribly misguided by it.

So the religious part, this is the juicy part haha! I just got discharged from the Army due to the massive draw back in funds that President Obama had in the department of defense. They were kicking people out for practically any reason they could instead of getting rid of equipment…that’s just what they do. When they discharge you, they send you to your home of record, mine just happens to be good old Kankakee, Illinois…kind of a shitty small ghetto town south of Chicago, not the worst place I’ve lived but not the best I’ve lived either.

I was recently married to an honestly crappy woman, just had my first son and I had no job, or prospect of getting one living in my father’s half of a duplex again. Great beginning to my twenty second year of life, right? If you answered yes, I, just have no words for you right now.

One day I’m beating feet on pavement doing what I can putting in paper applications to every brick and motor I can in town when it begins to down pour around me. Fucking great. Automatically I’m angry at everything around me, I’ve been out there for about three hours and I’ve got couple hours more, it’s July in Illinois and the sun was just shinning and you just want to randomly dump rain on me God?

It took a moment, but I realized that I was completely dry. Everything around me was, what was getting soaked. Looked at the pavement under my feet dry. Three feet over, soaked, and still getting poured on. Oh, that’s fucking weird…but maybe there’s something to this God thing after all. Took him long enough after all. So it was then, being the Midwesterner that I am, I look up in to the sky and yelled “Hey if you’re going to keep me dry. How about you, and Jesus Christ get me a fucking job to?”

Now I know if you’re Christian, and you’re reading this you’re going to tell me, “That’s not how God works Mr. Barbarian.” I know that! He never worked that way! Especially not in my case. But it was me having a bitter moment, and I KNOW, you Christians definitely have your bitter moments too! So “You is without sin cast the first stone”.

I don’t know why, but in that moment, something told me to look for a reply, but nothing came. So, standing there I started joking around. Being the dork, I am I had an extensive knowledge of all the ‘myths’ of gods past from ancient cultures of our ancestors. “Ra?” nope, “Zeus?” nope. “Odin?” that’s when it happened, my general jackassery almost had caused me to miss the two very large noticeable ravens fly over my shoulders then land in front of my feet then turn to face me quietly.

‘There’s no way’ I thought to myself. Odin, the guy that has one eye? The God that is all about laying and slaying, keep in mind fellow Odinist’s I didn’t know much back then, is trying to reach out to me of all people? “Oh yeah whatever! If you’re really trying to talk then make it make the sky light up with lightening, then!” I continued down my path of jackassery. And as soon as I finished my statement the sky lit up with bright pink lightening.

Right away I began to delve in to research into what this could mean. I found that there was a resurgence of the old Norse ways. That I wasn’t the only one the Norse God’s were coming to. It was now called Asatru, or if you were specifically following only Odin, then Odinism. Later, I found that I was also being called upon by Freya, goddess of love and warriors. And Thor…no not Chris Hemsworth, god of storms, war and fertility.

Oh no, I wrote this because of Odin. This is where the big show begins…Gods I’m long winded. Odin is the All Father, kind of like the Zeus of the Norse Gods if you will. But when it comes to what he’s the god of, well he has A LOT under his belt! One of the main things he’s the god of is knowledge. And in some respects, he’s kind of like the Christian God.

Odin won’t just give you knowledge. You must fight for it, you must find it, you must understand it. If you were to say, here something on the news from CNN well awesome! Ok, where did it happen, then go check out the local news from that area, see what the local news says, check the interviews of the locals to see what they say and relay it to the facts of the news story and see how well it holds up. That is something my religion tells me to do. That is something my God, Odin, says is honorable and something he admires.

He also admires fighting. Now I know what you may be thinking, fighting? So just start beating the crap out of people? That seems a little vicious! No, those of us who believe in Asatru, and Odinism actually look at fighting or “battle” in a different light than you might think. It would actually be better described as “fighting for what you believe”. Like I do now. I believe that the media needs to stop grandstanding for one political party and report the facts. I believe that big tech needs to stop censoring one political party or those it doesn’t agree with and allow all points of view, whether they agree or not. I will fight for what I believe, here on the internet, or in the senate, or in office if need be.

So yes. I am following a religious crusade…not the Christian kind, so Muslim’s are safe. The kind where I seek knowledge, the kind where I will be the every-man that tries to understand your point of view and find commonality. The kind that will fight for what I believe in peacefully. I will accept the wanderer with a homely attitude because one day it might be my God Odin that comes walking through my door and it is our belief that we should always present the homeless wanderer with the best of our food, our chair, and bed as well as conversation and knowledge.

This is why I am the Libertarian Barbarian.

#election politics Trump2020 election2020

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