#i still think about the woman who offered me jer earrings

[theonewhopoops]

You're all correct, honestly.

One of the reasons my partner and I hit it off years and years ago is because I ask genuine questions. I may ask about things I don't care about, but I will pry, because it is a part of the person I'm speaking to.

I don't like kids! But I ask fathers about their babies. I ask them about what makes them excited and what makes them nervous about child rearing. I ask people about their cool shoes or hats or compliment them on their well-coifed mustaches. Do their family members have a history of such luscious facial hair? When did they start growing it out? What products do they use? How much time does it take to make it look that good?

Like, I'm autistic with all kinds of extra layers of neurodivergence. So, I completely understand the feeling of walking into a room where everyone is diluting themselves to fit social norms. They talk about their career in the most surface level way. They say they like a sports team. They tell you what college they went to. They comment that they hate how hot it is, now. It's all very boring and meaningless. And it can be exhausting walking into that as the only person who's trying to have more interesting interactions, or - like me - walking in as the only person who doesn't care about this stuff enough to distill your personality down to a digestible dinner biscuit. It's the reason I avoid social gatherings, because I hate it and I don't care.

When it comes down to it, the main reason I don't care is because I'm not going to be friends with these people. We are not going to have a lasting bond. This is because I'm bad at being friends and it's genuinely a lot of work with very little reward for most people to be friends with me (and often times vice versa)

BUT.

When it comes down to it, the main reason I CARE is because I look around and I see my dad. He is a very chatty and social guy who is also bad at having friends. He really likes talking with folks and bonding over interesting conversations, and he will talk the ear off of a waitress or a bank teller if they engage with him. He doesn't get much socializing because he works so much. And that's the main reason I pry when I talk with people.

Talking with another person is a really good opportunity to make them feel seen and heard in a way they may not experience day to day. We don't have to be friends tomorrow, which is why I can devote a lot of energy into talking to them just for today. I want them to tell me things they've been thinking about for a while. I want them to have that moment of saying "EXACTLY! You get it!" which they might not get often. I want to be the person that my dad needs when he goes out and about - someone who is kind and genuine and cares a lot, even if they don't care. You know?

Like, it really doesn't matter to me what your kids are like. But I so so so so want to give you the chance to talk about them openly and happily and freely without hindrance. I want you to talk about how you bought that cool handbag in Brazil, and the lovely memories around it. I want you to tell me about the way your grandma raised you to be generous with everything you have, so you literally offered me the earrings from your ears when I told you how much I loved them.

So you're all correct. Sometimes you enter a room and everything is vapid and soulless and your autism wants you to jump off a bridge. But sometimes you're talking to a 50 year old man who's sitting alone in an empty school building installing some software on a computer while looking out over a lake on a mountainside describing the beauty to you and reminiscing about his recent visit to the Renaissance Fair with his mom and his kids and how everyone dressed up and had a blast. You'll likely never talk to him again, but right now you are his best friend because you're listening.

THAT is what matters to me.

I guess I just feel like... the weltanschauung on tumblr, and this seems true in both the more mainstream corners like fandom tumblr and the more niche corners like rattumb, is one that is very concerned with engineering one's environment. People are very picky, finicky about their surroundings, and this is viewed as a good thing—you're supposed to settle on very specific requirements for your environment and then cultivate them. This is expressed in like, the presence of DNIs, the advice to block profusely, etc., but also in ways that interface with IRL life. Like how it seems kind of common for rationalists to go and live in rationalist communities, full of people who are similar to them and have their same environmental and social preferences.

It's like a general predilection to insularity.

And this is so different from the world I'm used to, in which variety is viewed as inherently desirable, in which one is considered to benefit personally from "meeting all different kinds of people" and "having all different kinds of experience", and so on. And that mindset aligns more with my own preferences; insularity makes me uncomfortable.

Sometimes I wonder if like, this is related to the thing where a lot of people here seem to have hated school. I liked school! I liked meeting a variety of people, and encountering different stuff, and so on.

It's like, there was this post going around a while ago that said "I don't want to be more like everyone else, I want everyone else to be more like me". And everyone was reblogging it, all my mutuals were reblogging it, and I was just like "I don't relate to this at all, that sounds like it would suck".

This is part of my ongoing series of posts "max thinks out loud about why they feel they are clashing with tumblr culture so consistently these days".

Anyway, I guess, I don't mind being around people who have a desire for insularity in this sort of way, but I guess what I feel is that tumblr is a bit of an eco chamber, there is no source to remind people that not everyone feels this same way. Sometimes discussions go in a weird direction because tumblr users cannot seem to imagine "guy who actually likes small talk and might find having a conversation with a relative stranger who they share little in common with to be an enriching part of life" as an actually existing type of person.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Actor AU Kai is a single parent so he has to bring his daughter to the set even when she isn't acting but one day after a scene he can't find her and he get all worried until he sees a girl with staff uniform carrying his daughter he yells at her but later his daughter tell him that the cute girl was actually helping her cause she got lost and ask papa to apologize but now they can't find her maybe she was from another set? ... Fluff ending please?

I will call Eri Elizabeth because yes.

"Great job beating Magne's ass!" The actor whose interpreted Mr. Compress patted his shoulder as the woman scoffed at his companion while the others on set laughed.

He could only smirk and roll his eyes as he wiped the fake blood out of his face before taling off his mask with a relieved sigh.

Seriously, how can anyone use that thing for too long?

Looking around the set he looked for his daughter, he had to being her over even if she wasn't acting because ironically his friend, whose also had a job on the same show as his, couldn't take care of her and he didn't trust on babysitters much.

Although when she wasn't around he started to panick, looking at everywhere and even dropping the mask on the ground.

"Oi? Dude." He tapped the actor which interpreted Rappa as he gave him a worried look "Where is my daughter? Elizabeth? I left her here before going for my act."

"Sorry man, but I didn't saw her. Maybe the director spotted her or something?"

He muttered a curse before storming out of the set as he ran. Elizabeth was abandoned just like him by her mother, he couldn't afford that she got hurt, she was the inly good left for him..

His worry got replaced by relief and rage as he saw his daughter on the arms of a woman, offering her even a chocolate lollipop which she agreed happily on taking it.

"Oi!" He shouted, the girl opened a huge smile at seing her father before yelping when he practically ripped her out of the woman's arms "Who the hell you think you are to take my daughter without my knowledge?!"

"I-I'm I was just trying to-"

"You wanna know what? I couldn't give a fuck." He growled as he walked away, fuming with his daughter on his arms.

"Daddy why did you do that?!" The girl exclaimed, finally catching her father's attention as he looked at her as if she had grew another head.

"Eh? Elizabeth. Why do you think I did that? She took you without me knowing and you not even say-"

"Daddy she was helping me!" She crossed her arms with a huff as he put her on the ground to give her his attention "I got distracted then lost here and she knew where you worked! She was just trying to cheer me up because I got really sad at not finding my way back!"

He widened his eyes at relazation as he looked over his shoulders to still see the girl helping other actors to get ready...

"Shit..." he rubbed the back of his head before yelping when he felt his daughter pushing at his ear... just he kne he pierced. "What the-?!"

"You cursed." She pouted before releasing his ear and pointing at your direction "You have to apologize to her! She was nice and even give me candy!"

"Even if you didn't deserve it, huh?" He muttered with a smirk as the girl gasped in false offense "Fine, fine. I will apologize to her tommorow when we get back. That sounds fine, doesn't it?"

"Pinky promise?" She extended her little finger up with a arched euebrow just like him as he locked her small finger with his.

"Yeah. Pinky promise. Now lets get that apple ice cream you wouldn't stop talking about." The girl gleamed in happines as she run towards his car "ELIZABETH DONT RUN!"

~

"Eehhh??? You dont have any records to do today." Shigaraki's actor said as he entered hand in hand with his daughter's, scanning the place to see if he found the girl he yelled at yesterday.

"Yo? Doesn't he look ugly?" Dabi's actor said after snatching a picture of the red eye man as the girl giggled.

"Im not here for the show. Im actually looking for someone."

"Ne????" Uraraka's actress exclaimed for her seat along with Toga's one "The man considered a lone wolf looking for someone??? That's odd!"

"Daddy is looking for a woman with (H/c) hair and (e/c) eyes! She wore this black thingy on as her uniform!" Elizabeth made hand gestures along her talking as he sighed.

"Any of you saw her around?"

"Oh!" Midoriya's actor exclaimed while his little brother tried to win hin on a game "You must be talking about miss (L/n)! She works on another set though! Im sirprise tha you two manahe to find her!"

"So how do you know her boy?" He asked with a arched eyebrow as the young man shuddered.

"She helped me with my costume once, the set on the other side she works is about "demons cutters" or "slawers" something like that! She should be working by now, but her lunch break should be soom though!"

"Thank you!" His daughter exclaimed while grabbing on her father's hand and dragging him along "cmon papa! Good acting everyone!"

He almost got hitted by a post and tripped by how fast his daughter was dragging him... until she finally sucessed to bump him on someone.

"Opsies!" His daughter hissed looking at both adults on the ground.

"Elizabeth..." he groaned while standing at least on his knees to widen his eyes to see the girl who helped his daughter yesterday, whinning and grumbling at her smootie being tossed and splashed on the ground.

"Miss (L/n)!" Hsi daughter exclaimed before throwing her arms over the girl's neck, the from on her face quicly vanishing as she notice the kid hugging her.

"Oh hello! Lost again?" She giggled before widening her eyes at seing he was there too... the handsome single father interpretting Chisaki Kai from the show Boku no hero academia...

While he was at loss of words at only noticing now how beautiful that woman was...

Like an angel...

"Ahem!" His attention was stolen by his daughter frowing at him.

"Apologies, did it hurt too much?" He extended his hand to you, feeling how soft your hand was... equibalent to a kitty's paw.

"U-uh.. no no! I dealed with worst!" You laughed as to brush off how embarrassed you was as he gave you a smile.

"I'm relieved.. I suppose I also own a apology for yesterday, I jumped to conclusions at seing you with my daughter and I panicked."

"I forced him to!" Elizabeth exclaimed before giggling at the pat she received from jer father as you smiled at how PURE and CITE those too looked.

"Is not a problem! Really, I get it!"

"Your lunch break is probably over because of us though." He pointed at your smoothie at the ground as you pouted "Care at accepting my offer to accompany me and my daughter at some cafeteria nearby?"

As you nodded, Elizabeth gasped in awe. Her father NEVER invited anyone to hang out with them! Especially even looked so... in love?!?!? She was freacking out and gushing from her dad's side as the two talked.

You three had a loveable talk before one of your coworkers called you desperatly saying that one of the lights was not working and you had to go. Elizabeth couldn't contain her fangirling sounds when she saw at the way her father accompanoed the young lady as she leaved and let out a dreamy sigh.

"She is gonna be my new mom?!" She shoked her father's shoulder, making the poor man to spit his drink.

"W-what the hell? No kid, I barely know her-"

"But you two looked so in love! You love her!" She jumped on the ground to make a fance as the whole cafeteria looked over them as the poor man covered his red face with his hand "love her! Love her! Love her! You two will marryyyyyyy!!!!"

"Eli..." he growled while burring his face on both hands, never feeling so ashamed at seing bis daughter gushing about his... newest crush.

Fuck.

[91percentpynch]

the cut that always bleeds - kevaaron au pt 3

kejerejean stans? this one is for you. no seriously this one is out of jean‘s point of view? cuz honestly i love that hoe so much. as always get your tissues ready guys. this is actually kinda long? and a mess? and no one beta read it so if there are mistakes or it doesn‘t make sense i‘m sorry!! this is not that sad? tw: mention of murder, mention of physically hurting someone, mention of stabbing, mention of the nest, mention of trauma

check this out to find the other parts:)

Jean has always been a light sleeper. He had to be in order to survive the horrors of Evermore.

So naturally the sobs - as silent as they might have been - woke him up. His eyes opened at once, he sat straight up. Almost automatically he got to his feet and left the room to get to Kevin.

After all, comforting Kevin was like breathing to him.

Jeremy followed Jean, because he would always follow Jean. Jeremy was like a moth and Jean was the light. Wherever he went Jer would follow.

So they went to Kevin‘s room. The striker laid in his bed, curled up, phone in his hand, uncontrollable sobs escaping his mouth.

„I see you took the call this time“, Jean said, surprisingly gentle.

„I wanted to end it. I wanted to have a clear cut. So tell me, why does the cut still bleed?“, Kevin whispered, his voice barely audible.

„Because it‘s a cut that always bleeds“, Jeremy told Kevin as he came closer, carefully and ever so gentle placing his hands on the other boy‘s back.

„He said he wants me to come back to him“, Kevin whispered while holding onto himself as if to try to stop himself from falling apart. „He told me he misses me. That he only gets high when he misses me“

It was quiet in the dark room, shadows were dancing, just as Aaron and Kevin used to dance in the dead of night underneath the night sky.

„You did the right thing Kev“, Jean replied in French while he got into the Bed behind Kevin. Just like they used to do in the Nest.

When Kevin was in his arms he began to hum a French lullaby into his ear.

Jeremy joined them after a second of admiring his beautiful boyfriend and the broken boy in his arms.

„Dude, do you want something? Hot coca? A special Knoxian hug? Us to get Andrew to gut that bastard? Wait, hold on. I forgot. Twin brother. Well, I can gut him for you? Andrew and this is a word by word quote told be once ‚You‘re like a little unicorn in a world full of wolfs with razor sharp teeths, learn to gut the wolfs, stay safe‘, so he taught me how to stab someone? Yeah okay that is not the topic right now, I can still gut Aaron though. I mean Andrew would try to hurt me, but then again I‘m his best friend so he does not have the rights to gut me, right?“, Jeremy offered him a toothy grin, while his hand wandred to his neck rubbing it nervously.

„Can you please not gut him? First of all: Andrew already tried to choke me once when Josten was in danger and I told them where he was, cause apparently yOu DoN‘t KeEp ThOsE tHiNgS tO yOuRsElF yOu FuCkInG mOrOn. I think you do keep those things to yourself if the other option is to get fucking murdered by the mafia??? But what do I know, am I right? After all I‘m just a narcistic, Exy-obsessed asshole without a personality. Bonus I have anxiety, panic attacks, probably depression and I‘m unlovable“, Kevin mumbled into his pillow, the voices of the other foxes, of the other teams inside of his head.

„Did they tell you that?“, Jeremy asked, not quite able to hide the sadness and pain in his voice.

„Doesn‘t eveyone think that?“, Kevin asked. „I mean I think they tend to forget that the woman who gave birth to me, the last woman who geniuely loved me besides maybe Abby, invented the job. I think they tend to forget that the fucking mafia killed her when they found out I‘m not theirs by nature, so the only solution was apparently fucking murder. Then they kidnapped me, brainwashed and tortured me to the point where all I knew was Exy. Oh and maybe they also tend to forget that Ravens were only ever allowed to do Exy, if you were privilegded enough sleep, and do more Exy“

„Kevin you are so much more than that“, Jean whispered into Kevin‘s ear while pressing him against his chest. Just as they used to do in the Nest. „I might be mad at you, because you left me alone with those psychopaths. I used to think you didn‘t care about me. But you were just like me, okay with less scars and less you know. However I cannot say I wouldn‘t have done the same. I understand you now, Kevin. And please, please stop saying those things. And now let us cuddle you and let Jer go through his ridiculous post break-up list. We‘re gonna cuddle you and all you have to do is trying to fall asleep. Used to help me when I was alone at USC. Could only sleep properly when someone held me. Well, Jeremy. Tomorrow we‘ll shove unhealthy food down your throat and watch Downton Abbey or whatever those historcial dramas you love so much are called. While stroking your hand or whatever you‘re into big boy. Afterwards we‘ll take the dogs out and force you to watch the fucking sunset. And I‘ll hold your fucking hand“

Kevin supposed the middle of the night was the time of long lost truths. „Okay“, he mumbled while he moved closer to Jean. Replacing his smell with Jean‘s. It took him a while to fall asleep but he managed.

At the same time Jeremy said „Mi amor, I love you, I really do, but that was literally the most romantic thing you said in the past two years? That is way more romantic than ANY date you ever planned for me? Rude? The audacity?“

„Moi soleil, you don‘t have the ‚cult kidnapped me and tortured me‘ card you can pull, you get the bonus treatmeant of any other people. Besides I literally have matching tattoos with you? I drew you like multiply times? I wrote like a dozen poems and at LEAST one short story? I wrote you a fucking lullaby? You have no right to complain right now, or you‘ll loose your kissing privileges and I give them to Kevin“

„Eww gross“, Kevin mumbled.

„I don‘t remeber you saying that back in the Nest“, Jean replied, poking his cheek.

Kevin didn‘t have the energy to answer. It was a long day. Sleep could have him for the day. Death’s little sister might claim him for the night.

This night he dreamed about Aaron. Strong arms around his waist. Golden eyes locking with smaragd ones. They were on some lonely beach, kissing lazily while the water kissed their feet. It was a beautiful day. Not as beautiful as Aaron, but then again nothing would ever be as beautiful as this specific piece of art. Everything was alright. Everything was good. Why couldn‘t it be the real Aaron and the real Kevin on that beach.

At about noon Kevin woke up to a drooling Jeremy on his stomach and the smell of waffles and soft French swearing in the kitchen. Softly Kevin woke Jeremy up.

„Sorry I always end up on weird angles and drooling on random guys. Jean used to get so mad when I fell asleep in his lap. But you can‘t take him serious when he looks with you with heart eyes trying to be Mad, can you? Anyways we should probably go to him and help him? Oh wait hold on a hot second there. I‘m banned from the kitche, so we can sleep? Right? Right?“

„I hate to break this to you Jer, but it‘s noon. So, no we cannot sleep. You can choose my clothes, though. I know you love going through my stuff and playing dress the doll, Kevin Day edition“, Kevin almost smiled at Jeremy, when he looked up at him pouting.

Then he remembered another blonde boy, pouting at him when he told him no. Another constellation of freckles around another, straight, perfect nose. Sinful lips softly turned up, trying to look mad. Hazel eyes instead of ocean blue ones. Messy blonde curles, instead of soft badly dyed ginger ones. Strong arms instead of lean ones covered in flower tattoos. God, Kevin missed his Aaron.

No, not his. Not anymore

„Okay, but you have to wear to fab outfit I‘ll throw in your face“, Jeremy gave him another easy, toothy grin.

Slowly the other boy got out of bed and went over to the cabet. Slowly Jer went through Kevin‘s cloths. After a while he slowly turned around, holding a jersey that is obviously by far too small for Kevin in front of his face. „What is that? Why do you still have his jersey? Babe, you gotta get rid of that, rather sooner than later“

Jeremy had the weird habit of calling his friends babe, baby, dude or bro. Before Jean he called his boyfriends bro or dude as well, but Jean was so confused by it he quickly stopped doing it.

„First of all: I‘m a weak ass bitch, it smelled of it. And secondly maybe I wanna stab it once I‘m over the phase where I‘m like madly missing him?. I‘d just put it into a pillow, stab at it like a maniac and then set it on fire. I didn‘t grow up with a psychopath as my supposed best friend for nothing Jer“

„Okay? Well I got your clothes. And you‘ll look amazing, cause it‘s the FOX ONSIE I GOT YOU!!! I‘ll wear my onsie as well, and I‘ll force Jean to wear his one as well!! Much fun!! Much wholesome!!“

So that‘s how Kevin Day, queen of Exy, landed sandwiched between his childhood crush and long life crush on their couch, watching Downton Abbey with a plate of waffles on his lap. This was nice. He might had actually enjoyed it, if this wasn‘t his and Aaron‘s show. They used to watch it, cry over it together, make out while watching it.

Thank God didn‘t actually touch him while watching Downton Abbey, he was good at daydreaming. Kevin would just had preteneded that it was Aaron and he thought him breathing Aaron‘s name was the last thing any of them needed today.

After their Downton Abbey marathon they ordered pizza, against Kevin‘s better judgement. Another traditon Kevin shared with Aaron. At finals Aaron would often forget to eat and Kevin was too big of a mess to be bothered to cook so he would end up ordering something every single day and feeding it Aaron while he studied on the floor. Occasionally he would earn a soft kiss, growing hungrier when the night grew darker. God Kevin missed the soft lips on his own.

Kevin would have enjoyed the beach, wouldn‘t he be dressed in a fox onsie, holding hands with a 6“5 guy who looked like he both could and would kill you in a unicorn onsie holding two tiny dogs in his other hand and with a 5“4 dude in a matching unicorn onsie with two dogs that were almost bigger than him.

At least this didn‘t remind him on Aaron.

Well, actually. The way the ocean softly kissed the sand, reminded him of his dream. And of the endless trips to the beach, sleeping in the car, Aaron on top of him. Lazy kisses and warm hugs. It was the first place Aaron took Kevin after their rehab. It was the first night they spent together, as sober men. Well, not sober per se. But drunk and high on each others love. It might had been the most painful memory of the day. God he missed those strong arms around his waist.

Nontheless the pain got less, he felt almost numb. Kevin liked feeling numb. Nothing hurt when you feel numb.

The sunset was beautiful. It reminded him of golden hairs, freckles standing against golden skin, soft lips at his ears, his neck, the corner of his lips.

„Aaron you‘re supposed to look at the sunset, you shithead“, Kevin used to smile down at him. „But I‘m already looking at the most beautfiul thing this world has to offer“, Aaron replied smoothly, locking eyes with Kevin.

When the moon took the place of his long lost lover they decided to go back.

It was safe to say that no one dared to think that someone would wait for them there. Especially not the one person they tried to avoid by all means the entire day.

„You said to stop calling. Never mentioned face to face conversations“, a husky voice said. And Kevin‘s world stopped.

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 13

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.  

TW: Language, sexual themes, violence, torture. Rated M 

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

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Let me start this off with a disclaimer: This chapter does not have Rick appearing. He will be back, but due to length and flow I needed to cut off the chapter where I did. Sorry. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it anyway

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I was lounging on a love seat in the large house the Joker had taken us to; pretending to read a magazine Harley had offered me.

Frost had shown up at the house about 30 minutes after us, with a bump on his head, and a sneer plastered across his face. He insisted that the squad were gone by the time he came too.

The house was just as ghastly as the car had been; with bear skin rugs and clashing patterns on all the furniture. There was no doubt that 99% of it was stolen.

Playing a weird game of tag, Harley and the Joker were chasing each other throughout the house; squealing and growling at each other, each time one of them managed to catch the opponent.

I was thinking something fiercely.

I’d followed Harley and her psycho boyfriend into the Palisades, without any idea of what my next move should be.

Throwing herself into the seat next to me, Harley was laughing; out of breath.

“J is getting me a new puppy”, she giggled. “Those stupid animal rights activists took back my last one, when I was sent back to Louisiana”.

“What’s the plan here, Harley”, I asked.

“I dunno. It’s your turn to think of something”, she answered trustingly.

I sighed.

“I need to make sure Kelper doesn’t make it to congress”, I said.

“Revenge?”, she asked.

“No”, I answered. “There are enough shitheads in office as it is – look at the main guy in charge! We don’t need another one”. I crossed my arms. “Also a little bit of revenge, yeah”, I admitted.

“Yeah that judge does seem like a dick”, Harley muttered.

“No”, I said. “This is about Waller. She has enough power as it is. She doesn’t need to be able to keep hunting people like us down, and force us to do things we don’t want to. Even if we are bad guys”.

She grabbed my face between her hands.

“I’m with you”, she said, and kissed my forehead with a loud smack. “Tell me what to do!”.

I beamed at her. She was a good friend. Even if she was bat shit crazy.

“I need to be able to prove the connection between mr. J and Kelper”, I said; and looked down at my feet. “That does mean, that J won’t be able to use him for protection from the cops anymore”.

Harley was biting her lip.

“Huh”, she said. “He ain’t gonna like that”.

“I know”, I replied. “But we need him to”.

“Harley!”, the Joker called from somewhere. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”.

Harley sighed, then looked into my eyes, and nodded.

“Marco!”, Joker called from the kitchen.

“Polo!”, Harley answered, still looking at me; then grinned, and sprang from the couch to hide from the clown.

—

“Chess has a live bomb in her bag”, Harley said conversationally during breakfast.

I instantly froze; mouth agape – prepared to feel my throat being slit at any moment.

“Oh?”, the Joker said, gazing up from over the newspaper he’d been reading – well, not so much newspaper as comic book. “That’s nice, dear”. He looked back down.

Harley – curlers in her hair, and wearing a pink fluffy bathrobe – continued.

“Yup. It’s a pretty nasty one too”. She returned to her marshmallow cereal.

Joker put down his comic book and looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, toots? Something I need to know?”.

I was shaking in my seat; and I gently put down the golden rimmed porcelain cup of coffee in my hand.

“Uhm, Harley. I don’t think this is the time…”.

“Please, Chess”, Joker said to me, lowering his old-fashioned reading glasses. “In this house everyone can say whatever they want, whenever they want. We mustn’t stifle others expressions”.

I nodded fiercely.

“A-absolutely, yes. Of course. I’m sorry”, I stammered.

He quickly reached across the table, and grabbed my hand, putting it between his own.

“I could tell you meant that”, he grinned.

Letting go of my hand, he turned to face Harley again.

“Now where were we, doll? Chess has a bomb in her bag?”, he said calmly.

Harley swallowed some of her orange juice.

“Yeah. It’s a black box, with a little display on it. Pre-set to 1 minute”.

“That sounds fun”, Joker said cheerfully. “What’s it for?”.

Harley got up from her seat, and went to stand behind her beloved madman; massaging his shoulders and neck, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. She slid her hands down his shoulders under the flowered kimono he was wearing.

“You know that mean lady, who’s been putting me in that bad place?”. Joker grunted in response. “Well those friends in high places Jerry was moaning about? That’s her”.

The Joker opened his eyes, and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Kelper’s friends with the witch?”, he asked.

Harley went to sit on his lap, and laced her fingers behind his neck.

“No, not the witch; the bitch. The witch is dead”, she said.

“Right, right”, Joker answered. “So?”.

“Well”, Harley continued, “the bitch gave Chess the bomb to blow you up; so you’d stop asking Kelper for favors”.

The clown looked at me, brows – or lack thereof – furrowing.

“You were going to blow me up?”.

I jumped in my seat.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. Once I knew who you were…”. Harley interrupted me.

“Puddin’, Chess would never do anything like that. We were coming to tell you about the bomb; but then that stupid judge was there, and Chess got all upset, because she really hates his guts”. She kissed his forehead. “We plain old forgot!”.

Joker groaned.

“I spent a lot of money on Kelper. We had a lot of parties”.

“A lot of parties”, Harley nodded, backing him up. “So, maybe… we should do something about it”.

“Oh, snuggle-tits. I need the judge for my business”, Joker said, and looked adoringly at her.

My heartbeat was calming down, and I could think more clearly. I took a small sip of my coffee.

“Mr. J”, I began. “You probably know that I used to work for the Hatter”.

The Joker guffawed and snarled all at once.

“That idiot”.

“Yeah, well”, I continued, “I could work for you, like I did for him. Getting you information, money…”.

“I have money”, he interrupted.

“A new Lamborghini?”, I tried.

His eyes lit up.

“I’m listening”.

I sat up straight. Here we go.

“Kelper is pulling out of your arrangement. He’s even gone so far as getting someone to try to kill you”.

“Well that happens at least once a week”, he said, and shook his head. Harley stroked her fingers through his green hair.

“There’s that girl”, she said, and looked at me.

“What girl?”, Joker asked.

“Well”, Harley continued, “Kelper did some pretty nasty things to a girl who used to work at that place… what was it called?”.

“Sammy’s”, I answered. “It’s a burlesque club in the Narrows”.

I casually took another sip of my coffee, that at this point had gone cold. My face contorted from the taste.

Joker looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I continued.

“About a year and a half ago, Kelper raped and beat an 18 year old girl that worked there”, I said. “She’s still suffering from the attack”.

He patted Harleys thigh to get her to get of his lap.

“Jonny!”, he called, getting to his feet himself.

Frost came into the dining room.

“Yeah, boss?”.

“We own the Narrows, don’t we?”, he asked, and walked slowly towards his minion.

“Yeah, for about 2 years now”, Frost answered, not meeting his eyes.

“And do you know about a bar named Sally’s?”.

“Sammy’s, yeah it’s a stripjoint”, Frost said.

“Burlesque club”, Harley whispered into Jokers ear.

“Burlesque club, Jonny”, Joker said, and grabbed the back of Frosts head. “There is a big difference”. Patting Frosts cheek, he went to sit down again.

“So Sammy’s have been paying their dues, have they not?”.

“Never missed a pay-date”, Frost retorted.

Joker – now sitting down – slammed both his fists into the table, making us all jump.

“Then would you mind telling me, why one of the young ladies working there, was attacked and raped; while she was supposed to be under our protection?”, he yelled; his slicked back hair now disheveled, and falling into his face.

“This doesn’t look good, Jonny! This makes me look bad!”, he shouted.

“I know, boss”, Frost tried. “But it was Kelper, and you told us to stay clear of him”.

Joker jumped out of his chair, and threw it at Frost; only narrowly missing the man.

“Get out. Find Kelper. Bring him to me!”, he growled. “And get Chess new hot cup of coffee. That cold stuff is a disgrace”.

Frost rushed a fresh cup of coffee to me, and ran out the door; already on his phone, yelling at someone.

The Joker found a new chair, and pulled it up to his place at the table. He smoothed his hair back down, and exhaled.

Harley went to stand behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed my hand like he had before, and looked at me seriously.

“Now”, he said. “Chess. Chessie. My dear. Thank you for making me aware of this problem in my organization. Am I also to understand that you were the one to punish Jer-Jer after his misdeed with the young woman?”.

I smiled brightly, doing my best to seem cheerful.

“That was me, alright!”.

Joker grined.

“Well, when you think about it, you did our job for us!”, he smiled widely. “So I owe you. You came in to this house a stranger; but now – you’re family”.

Harley squealed, and jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

Great. I wasn’t only the clowns newest pet and employee; I was apparently family.

Shit.

“I still want that Lamborghini”, Joker finished, and went to get dressed.

—

We drove to a building not far from the one we had been at the night before.

“Puddin’ you know this means you can’t work with Kelper no more, right?”, Harley said, as we were getting out of the car.

“Yes, yes, squishy-butt, I know”, he answered. “This is going to be fun!”, he snickered, and put his arm around her waist.

I followed them into the building, and down into a basement. In the middle of the dark room sat Kelper, handcuffed to a chair. A single lightbulb was lit above him.

Masked henchmen were spread around the room, covering the exits.

“Jerry!”, Joker said, arms spread into the air as we entered. “Thank you so much for being able to reschedule our meeting. I’m so, so happy you agreed to this location”.

The judge was gagged, had a black eye, and there was already a wet stain under the chair from where he had urinated his pants.

Harley jumped onto a table near the scene, and crossing her legs; she began to file her nails.

I stayed in the shadows; out of Kelpers line of sight.

The clown went to stand in front of his victim, putting a hand on each of his knees, coming down to eyelevel with him. He wrinkled his nose.

“Jer-Jer. Were you that excited to see me?”, he asked. He removed Kelpers mouth gag.

“P-please; Mr. Joker. I don’t know what this is about!”, he stammered.

“This, my friend”, Joker said, “is about your plans for your political future!”.

Frost appeared from the shadows with a chair, that Joker pulled up in front of Kelper. He sat down.

“It’s recently come to my attention that you’ve decided to run for congress”.

“Yes, mr. Joker. I was the one that told you about it myself”, Kelper said.

Joker smacked him across the face, and then pointed a finger at him.

“It’s rude to interrupt!”, he roared.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry”, Kelper said.

Joker smiled.

“I take a great interest in politics, as you know. I’m even the governor of my own little corner of Gotham. And I find it’s very important to make sure that the people I govern feel safe”.

Kelper nodded.

“Good! So you know where I’m coming from”, the clown continued. “Then I come to hear that someone decided to cause problems in my little paradise. Apparently, a very silly man decided to pay a visit to a burlesque club, and play a little too roughly with one of the lovely dancers there”.

I saw Kelpers eyes widen in fear.

“I didn’t know that would be an issue for you, I swear!”.

The Joker patted his cheek gently.

“Well it is”, he half whispered.

Jumping from the chair, he ran to sit down next to Harley.

“Hi, sugar lips”, he said; and put his arm around her, before calling out.

“Chess!”.

I stepped out of the shadows, and pulled down my hood. Kelper looked at me, recognizing me from the meeting the day before.

“Miss, I don’t know what he’s paying you, but I’ll match and double it!”, he tried desperately.

I sat down in front of him.

“You smell like piss”, I said. He gulped. I sighed. “So this is not going to be fun for you. At all”.

His facial expression changed.

“Do your best, bitch. I’ve been through worse!”.

“Oh?”, I asked. The judge was about to spit in my face, but didn’t have the chance to do so, before I headbutted him.

I rubbed my forehead. That hurt, I thought, but cheered up, when I saw that I had obviously broken his nose.

Joker and Harley roared with laughter from the table.

“So, you’ve had it worse, huh?”, I asked.

He ground his teeth, and nodded.

I smiled and slowly began disappearing into a mist.

Kelpers facial expression immediately changed from prideful to pure fear. He began jumping in the chair, screaming; and managed to fall over; landing in his own wet pool.

“Ew”, Harley said from next to a gleeful Joker.

“Sshh, Harls’. I’m watching this”, he said.

Frost pulled Kelper back into a seated position.

“Get the camera”, I said to him, reappearing in my seat.

I clenched my fist, letting my claws come out.

“I heard you’re going to have some reconstructive surgery, your honor”, I said, looking down at my claws. “Jonny here could find me a pair of rocks, and I could do the deed for you. It’s only polite, seeing as I’m the one to blame for your whole ordeal in the first place…”.

Kelper began crying.

“No, no. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I will!”, he sobbed.

Frost came in to the light, two plum-sized rocks in one hand, and a smartphone in the other. I took the items into my hands.

“Ok. Now, you can chose one of these gifts; and I won’t take no for an answer!”, I beamed. “Either you chose to let me help you make a nice little video, where you tell the world about your rape and beating of that young woman 18 months ago – along with an account of your dealings with criminal organizations in Gotham. That will make your family really proud of you, and you’ll instantly feel better about your misdeeds. Or…”.

I showed him the two rocks.

“… you let me help you by filling that empty sack of yours”.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joker and Harley both leaning in to hear his answer.

Kelper sobbed, and a bloody glob of snot ran out of his broken nose.

“The video. I’ll do the video”.

“Boring”, Joker snarled quietly, and Harley patted his leg soothingly.

I pulled out the phone.

“Don’t worry Jerry. This will be over in no time”. I started filming. “Action”.

Kelper opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Look into the camera. Say your name”, I whispered.

He looked into the lens, and began.

“My name is Jeremiah Kelper. I am a judge in Gotham city”. He paused, and I kicked his shin.

“And”, he yelped, “18 months ago, I raped and beat a young woman I was giving a ride home in my limousine”. He sobbed. “I then… let two of my friends rape her, while I watched”.

I was struggling not to run my claws through his heart.

“Continue”, I hissed. Kelper did as asked.

“I have also been receiving payoffs from the crime lord known as the Joker”.

“That’s me!”, the Joker said, and jumped into frame; giving Kelper a wet kiss on the cheek. “We’ve been the best of friends, for a long, long time”, he said, and patted Kelpers shoulder.

“Isn’t this enough?”, Kelper cried.

“Apologise!”, I growled.

“Yes!”, Joker exclaimed. “And tell them that you’ve been a bad, bad boy. Say; I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy!”.

Kelper sobbed again.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve abused my office, and I’ve hurt a young woman who didn’t deserve it”.

“No one deserves what you did to her!”, I snarled.

“No, no one deserves that”, he admitted.

“Bad boy!”, Harley yelled from her table, making Kelper jump in his seat.

“I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy”, he finished.

“Cut! Scene! Print!”, Joker called, and gave the judge a hard slap on the back. “Good job, Jer-jer! This is one for the books!”.

I put the phone in the bag with the bomb I was still carrying. It was over.

—

A loud crash was heard. While we had been filming, the room had been almost cleared of Jokers minions, as they’d disappeared into the shadows.

The lights went out, and I felt a gush of wind over my head.

“No!”, Joker shouted.

A hard punch to my shoulder made me fall to the floor, and I dropped the bag, accidentally kicked it; and watched it slide into the darkness somewhere.

Panicking, I scrambled to find it, my shoulder pulsing with pain.

A gunshot was heard, followed by the sound of Harleys shriek, as she was thrown across the floor.

I got on my feet, and ran in the direction of where I thought the bag might be.

Someone grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

“Leave it”, a gravelly voice said. “Keep your head down”.

Shit…

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[ikesenhell]

The Burden

Elysium, Part Four. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Nothing particular. LETS GET THIS BREAD -spikes my laptop and then apologizes profusely to it-

---

The Chairman detained them for most of the next day. Mercifully, between the three of them, they juggled new plans and training details and drafts for checkpoints along the main highways. Evening came, and they at last were free. 

“I'm going out,” Napoleon announced, throwing on his sword belt and caplet. “Anything before I go?”

Jean frowned and lifted himself from one of the beds. “Then I will go with you.”

“That isn't necessary.” 

“If you're walking into the woods after that bandit alone, then I should think you need another sword arm. Just in case.”

Napoleon accepted the offer with a smile and a pat on his friend's shoulder. Isaac just grumbled about having blueprints to draft and things to read, and together, the two men left the safety of the inn and headed about town. 

Information was never hard to come by if you knew where to look. If there was anything Napoleon had learned in his time ruling Elysium, it was that two things always held true: One, people were more willing to talk if you gave them something first. Two, children always knew more than they let on. It was the second one he planned to lean on. They ambled through the red cobblestone streets, side by side, wandering down the winding roads, and—ah! A small group of children milled around an ancient well. 

“Me first, Jer! Me first!”

“You still haven't said sorry after pushing me last week! I'm not giving you any!”

“That's not fair--!”

The center of the commotion—“Jer”, a lanky boy of maybe eight, split from the group and sprinted, a paper bag clutched to his chest and a stream of children capering after. Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh. They scampered around benches and in huge circles up and down the street. 

And then Jer collided with a little girl half his size, both of them crashing to the cobblestones. 

“Ah!” Napoleon ran to them. Jer looked fine, but the smaller child? Poor thing. Her eyes welled with tears, hands smushed against her mouth. Her scraped knee oozed fresh blood. He lifted her to her feet, and she wobbled uncertainly, but stood nonetheless. 

“Look at you,” he soothed, patting her head. “You’re a tough girl! No crying, yeah? It’s just a scrape. Does anything else hurt?”

Jer clambered over, the paper bag still clutched to his chest. “Mila, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Mom--”

“Hey now.” Napoleon set his jaw and tried not to laugh. “She’s the injured party here. Ask her if she’s okay first before you start begging for her silence.”

The little girl smushed her fists against her eyes, but nodded. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“Brave girl.” He patted her shoulder and watched her little frown transform to a shy smile. “That’s the way. What are you chasing him for, anyway? And--” He glanced up, almost wheezing with laughter as he realized the other kids had dispersed. Jean looked just as confused as he. “Your friends don’t stick around, do they?”

The boy shook his head sheepishly. “We’re not really friends with them. I, um… I got a present is all.”

Mila wasn’t so reserved. She stamped a foot and shouted, “He got candy!”

Candy? Napoleon shot Jean a glance. Candy was expensive, and neither of these children seemed particularly well off from the look of their clothing. “Is that so?”

“I--” Jer flushed. “Yeah. Look.” 

The paper bag was crumpled and worse for wear, but its contents were unmistakable. The sweet scent of honey and sugar wafted from inside. What a rare treat! Napoleon considered them, wondering where someone might get a collection of delicacies like that. “Who gave you these?”

Jer squared his jaw. “I bought them.”

“Lying is a sin, young man,” Jean reproached softly.

It was difficult to tell if the child was more uneasy about sinning, or simply Jean’s insertion into the conversation. Either way, he folded easily. “I--they were a gift.”

“From who?” Napoleon prodded. “I’m not going to get you in trouble. We’re just looking for a friend.”

Mila scuffed her feet on the cobblestone. “A nice man with curly hair.”

“Yeah,” Jer added, uncertain, “Reddish-blonde curls, most of his face was covered…”

“Oh? Which way did they go?”

The siblings pointed out a nearby gate. Beyond that, the woods were clearly visible. Jean nodded matter-of-factly, adjusting his sword belt. At last--a lead.

“Thank you,” Napoleon soothed, patting both of the children. “Get home safely, alright? And share some of that candy with your sister.”

---

Tracking the footsteps out to the forest was simple enough. After crossing the boundary of trees--that was another matter entirely. He hated to ask Jean to use the Voices, and their quarry was well versed in hiding themselves. Little details mattered; a snapped branch here, a freshly overturned rock there. As quiet as they were, they still startled a flock of sparrows in their wake. 

“That’ll tip them off,” Jean murmured, hand on his sword hilt. 

“I know,” Napoleon answered. “Maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

“Maybe.”

Night swiftly approached. The light between the leaves faded from gold to orange. Soon they would turn back. But then, at the last moment, Jean motioned for quiet. 

“I hear a river.”

He was right. They passed the thinning line of trees into a tiny clearing, the glowing twilight sky overhead glittering on the clear, wide water. Maybe another day he would consider this a wonderful resting place. For now, he had two concerns:

One. There was a small stack of discarded clothing on the bank. 

Two. There was someone on the shore with a crossbow loaded and pointed directly at him. 

“Ah!” Napoleon tried--and failed--not to laugh. “So you’re a woman!”

August (it had to be August, there was no one else he’d met recently with that same piercing stare and firebrand hair) cocked a severe brow at him. They’d clearly gotten dressed in a hurry. Their pants were wrinkled, shirt sticking wetly to their chest, water still rolling down their cheeks. Without all the armor, their curves were obvious. 

“I’m not a woman,” they snapped back. “Put the sword away, General d’Arc.”

Jean kept the blade raised, but didn't move. “Lower the crossbow first.”

Napoleon pressed forward. “So you’re not a woman? You’re a man?”

“I--” August’s brows knit in confusion. “Is that really pertinent when I have a bolt pointed at your chest?”

“I have to know how to address you when you kill me.” 

They rolled their eyes so far back that he wondered if it would stick. “Sword down, d’Arc. The crossbow goes nowhere first. It’s two on one.”

For only another moment, Jean hesitated. Finally, he sheathed his sword and tossed it to the soft earth. “You’ve shown yourself honorable before. I suppose I’ll trust you not to shoot.”

“I appreciate that. And you, Sir Bonaparte?”

Napoleon was already unbuckling his sword belt, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t recall introducing myself to you with my last name.”

“Find me someone else with the name ‘Napoleon’, and I will retract the association. I’m no fool. The moment you provided me your name, I knew who exactly it was I was dealing with.”

The second weapon fell to the ground. At last, August lowered the weapon--but kept it firmly in hand. They had fine features. Long lashes, severe brows, a full mouth set in a line. And the way they spoke; this was no peasant. They were educated. Napoleon appraised their foot stance and burst out laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” August scowled. 

“I now understand why I didn't recognize your swordsmanship,” he gasped. “You fight like a woman.”

Three eyes blinked at him. Napoleon pointed. “She--he--they’re trained in women’s fencing. Look at the feet.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jean answered reproachfully. “I’m not familiar with that.”

August shuffled their feet. It was too late. Napoleon howled with laughter again. “You took a noblewoman’s sport, added a saber, put all your weight into it--”

“Don’t mock me,” they snapped, ears flaming. 

“I’m not! It was brilliant! No wonder I couldn’t identify what you were doing--”

Up came the crossbow. Napoleon did his best to compose himself. When the laughter stopped, it finally went down once more. 

“If you’re done laughing,” August snapped, “Would you mind telling me why you interrupted my bath?”

Down to business. Napoleon folded his hands behind his back. “Simply put, we believe we’ve walked into a trap with Penrith.”

A snort. “No shit.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “So you knew.”

August merely motioned for them to continue. Napoleon followed up. “If you know who we are, then you know we come from Elysium. We were asked to come here and assist with a bandit problem. Obviously, you found us first--and you hardly match the description offered us.”

“I imagine not.” The bandit finally set down the crossbow, scooping up the pile of clothes from the riverbank. “If you two wouldn’t mind turning around?”

Jean swiveled on his heel instantly. Napoleon followed suit, speaking into the tree line. “They also seem to have some kind of knowledge about our party that we didn't want getting out. Otherwise, our stay in the city has been very tame, but given the discrepancies, we wanted to speak to you.”

A rustle of fabric. “What makes you think I’m that much more believable?”

“You were looking for something.” Napoleon paused. “That, and you showed kindness. It doesn’t fit the profile of banditry.”

“Mmm. You can turn.”

Gone were all the curves. August smoothed out their shirt, chest flat underneath, tugging on layers of leather armor and buckling them expertly, wet hair still clinging to their forehead. “Given the history between our two countries, I’d think you’d be reluctant to trust anyone.”

A half-decade of bloody war hung unspoken. Penrith always claimed that the aggression on Elysium’s borders was only perpetuated by their former Chairman. They’d repeated as much over and over again. But words--oh, words and peace treaties didn't bring back the dead, nor did it absolve Napoleon of his responsibility to Them. He always had to be cautious. 

“True.” Napoleon agreed.

“So I presume whatever I say will be taken with a grain of salt?”

“That would be the case. Unless you can prove it, sir--mada--”

“Sir works.” August yanked on a pair of gloves and flung the crossbow easily over their broad shoulder, finally coming closer. The smell of fresh lavender soap and clear river water hovered around them. “I won’t give you words, then. I’ll give you proof. How does that sound?”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Perfect.” They lifted their proud chin, working a scarf over their face until only their eyes remained uncovered. “Go to the central plaza fountain tomorrow at dusk. You’ll find a priest with a coin. He’ll show you.”

“And what if I’m walking into an ambush?”

August simply shrugged. “Then kill them. I doubt you’ll be going alone. I have nothing to gain from seeing either of you come to harm. Tomorrow, dusk, central plaza fountain. That is the terms to truth. I can’t risk letting on what I know without some buy-in faith.”

Then that was that. Napoleon nodded, reaching for his sword belt. August nodded firmly back, rounded on their heel, and stalked toward the tree line. Jean merely stood for one moment--then lunged forward. “Wait.”

They stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“I--” Jean stood wordless for what felt like eternity. “Thank you. Your kindness in untying me was unnecessary--”

“--No, no, that’s--don’t thank me for that.” Did they sound flustered? “It was nothing. You were--it seemed you were panicking. It was simple enough to do.”

A beat. Jean stuck out his hand. August stared, then, slowly, took his, clasping tight. 

“God be with you,” Jean murmured. 

And those bright eyes crinkled, like a thousand colors bursting in the height of summer and blooming all at once. “I hope you realize that I don’t know the appropriate response for that. But thank you. And with you as well.”

Finally, they released each other. Jean charged back, head high, Napoleon following him back into the underbrush. Overhead, the sunlight faded and the stars emerged, a thick blanket of night sounds swallowing them whole. Bit by bit, they picked their way back through the woods and out onto the road. 

Napoleon finally allowed a chuckle. “They’ve got expressive eyes, don’t they?”

Jean blinked like a man emerging from a dream. “What?”

“Expressive eyes. August. When you shook hands.”

His friend and second in command released a tiny strangled noise before managing a feeble, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lying is a sin, Jean.”

The poor man looked so stricken in the moonlight that Napoleon doubled over in his tracks, laughing until his throat scratched. Jean did his best--but after only a few moments, he cracked a faint smile, smoothing his uniform with nervous hands. “Forgive me, I--I didn't think when I said that--”

“No, no. You’re forgiven, friend.” 

They made it back to town before the gates closed. Napoleon cast a glance into the central plaza as they headed back to the inn, the red brick fountain bubbling with life, and wondered what they would find there tomorrow.

[yourgodmoments]

Beware of False Teachers and Counterfeit Christs - part 2

In part one, we looked at an author who was attempting to secularize Christ. Now, let’s look at (yet another Huffington Post offering) an article by one Keith Augustus Burton, who is the ‘Director of the Center for Adventist-Muslim Relations at Oakwood University.’

Mr. Burton’s bio tells us that he has received accolades for his ‘successful bridge building initiatives between Christian, Muslim and Jewish communities.’ In addition, it states that he teaches at the ‘School of Religion.’ Sounds impressive; yet the title of his article we’ll examine gives me pause: The Bible Has No Place In Modern American Society: Sobering Lessons from Donald Trump and Kim Burrell. His bio does not specifically state his particular theological beliefs, but some book titles he’s authored suggests a Christian perspective. We’ll see…

His article begins with his personal assessments of the Bible and of the so-called damage that it wreaks: ‘…many of the bigoted and outdated teachings have no place in our enlightened society.’ ‘…its content is seriously out of place with modern American values.’ and ‘…its teachings are a most meddlesome inconvenience that if embraced will place them (the followers) in a permanent state of cognitive dissonance.’

We can see then where Mr. Burton’s mindset is, by his own admissions. As we move into the body of his article, he presents his talking points:

1. The Bible is a relic of a Superstitious Past

His ‘proof’(?) consists of his assertion that because presidents have done bad things after placing their hands on a Bible during their inauguration, that the word of God has no power. In truth, his discursive prose consists only of a political rant at best. Nothing here that connects the Bible with a superstitious past.

2. The Bible is a Convenient Political Prop

This discussion is nothing more than a hate-filled pontification against our present president, the vice president, the ‘gullible masses who are still beguiled by the myth of a “Christian” America’, and ‘the cold-hearted “evangelicals” ‘ that voted for the present administration and their policies. Not anything of value about the Bible itself so far.

I’m beginning to feel that perhaps Mr. Burton has a grudge and that the mention of the Bible in his title is but an attempt to try to catch readers so that he can advance his agenda by political bashing.

3. The Bible is an Obstacle to American Freedom

Wow! his opening salvo demonstrates his true discriminations: ‘Whereas the conservatives’ repulsion to the Bible is guarded by a conniving cloak of acceptance, progressives are more honest. As far as they are concerned, the socially liberating sections of so-called “scripture” are not enough to redeem its bigoted and outdated parts.’ Who’s the bigot here? Again, no discussion of the Bible, just hurling hate against people whom he perceives thwart his beliefs.

Mr. Burton, your article purports to be about the Bible first. Your political candidate lost. Give it a rest. You’ll get a chance to change this in four years.

He doesn’t let up, finally getting around to attacking the Bible: ‘It is a dangerous book…that must be delegitimized…’

He then sounds off against marriage defined by the union of a man and a woman.  Why? Because in his opinion, the 21st century mores and the Supreme Court defines it differently. (Thus, they are the greater authority?) Well, we see that Mr. Burton’s temple is constructed around himself.

4. The Bible informs “Personal” Belief and Behavior

In this, his last ‘talking point,’ Mr. Burton never really pinpoints what he means by this subtitle. What he expounds upon is that people should love and accept other people who have beliefs that are ‘contrary’ to the Bible, even if thy promote sex between men and boys. But according to him, most don’t because they are ‘ideological bigots.’

Pardon me, but I don’t see anywhere where the author makes his case for ostracizing the Bible from ‘modern society.’

What I would have you notice is not what Mr. Burton is saying specifically, but what he is lecturing about in general: he is a perfect example of those who denigrate the word of God because what God says does not suit them and their agenda. I daresay as well, that perhaps some of their bellicosity is rooted in a guilt from an inner conviction of their self-righteousness regarding their willful and knowing rebellion against God:

I will put My law in their minds, and write it on their hearts… Jer. 31:33 NKJV

But the word is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart, so that you may obey it. Dt. 30:14 AMP

The trouble is that many people don’t follow their hearts; thus, they can’t understand the message:

But that natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, nor can he know them for they are spiritually discerned. 1 Cor. 2:14 NKJV

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Cor. 1:18 NKJV

And that is the main point, isn’t it? We must endure and cling to our faith. We are called to evangelize everyone, even those who are presently following another drummer. Regardless of their bluster*, we must try to present the word, opening ourselves up to the Holy Spirit to do the talking:

*(The words of his mouth begin with foolishness, and the end of his talk is raving madness. Eccl. 10:13 NKJV)

I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by His appearing and His kingdom: preach the word [as an official messenger]; be ready when the time is right and even when it is not [keep your sense of urgency, whether the opportunity seems favorable or unfavorable, whether convenient or inconvenient, whether welcome or unwelcome]; correct [those who err in doctrine or behavior], warn [those who sin], exhort and encourage [those who are growing toward spiritual maturity], with inexhaustible patience and [faithful] teaching. For the time will come when people will not tolerate sound doctrine and accurate instruction [that challenges them with God’s truth]; but wanting to have their ears tickled [with something pleasing], they will accumulate for themselves [many] teachers [one after another, chosen] to satisfy their own desires and to support the errors they hold, and will turn their ears away from the truth and will wander off into myths and man-made fictions [and will accept the unacceptable]. 2 Tim. 4:1- 4. AMP

It is true that Jesus calls us to love our ‘enemy.’ And who are our enemies but God’s people who have gone astray due to unfavorable circumstances. Many parts of the world and the people in it are victims of poverty, cruelty and ignorance, who are desperately seeking relief from their misery. Many times, that search leads to self-defeating and destructive behavior. As followers of Christ, we must love them but not their aberrant practices. We must do our best to show them the way to salvation so that they can abandon the false teachers and counterfeit Christs:

“Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you (unbelievers) and obey you rather than God, you must judge [for yourselves; for we on our part, cannot stop telling [people] about what we have seen and heard.” Acts 4:19, 20. AMP

But when that enemy rejects us with spite, hatred and disregard, we are to turn the other cheek and place our efforts to spread the kingdom elsewhere:

“Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pears before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.” Mt. 7:6 NKJV

Remember that we are entering the closing times. The devil knows his time is short, and he will drive his minions mercilessly to attempt to bring God’s kingdom down:

“…you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake. And many will be offended, will betray one another, and will hate one another…And because lawlessness will abound, the love of many will grow cold. But he who endures till the end shall be saved.” Mt. 24:9, 10 & 12. NKJV

How do we endure? We do it by clinging to the Bible, the word of God, having faith in it and staying in line with it. That can only be done if we stand behind its purity:

You shall not add to the word which I command you, nor take from it, that you may keep the commandments of the Lord our God which I command you. Dt. 4:2 NKJV

We can put our full faith in His undiluted word:

As for God, His way is perfect; the word of the Lord is proven; He is a shield to all who trust in Him. 1 Sam. 22:31 NKJV

You can stand upon it because it does not change:

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever. Is. 40:8 NKJV

Things don’t bode well for those who don’t follow God’s word:

“Cursed is the man who does not obey the words of this covenant…” Jer. 11:3 NKJV

“But if you will not hear these words, I swear by Myself,” says the LORD, “that this house shall become a desolation.” Jer. 22:5 NKJV

Just what are those bad parts of the scriptures that Mr. Burton attests to?

All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness… 2 Tim. 3:16 NKJV

Hmmm. Seems like there are no bad parts. Indeed, Christ seemed to think that all the parts were important:

“It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” Mt. 4:4 NKJ

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will by no means pass away.” Mt. 24:35 NKJV

So, detractors (e.g. Mr. Burton) will sometimes say that Christ was okay, but the rest of the Bible is superstition. I invite them to meditate upon Jesus’ words:

“Do not think that I came to do away with or undo the Law [of Moses] or the [writings of the] Prophets; I did not come to destroy but to fulfill. For I assure you and most solemnly say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or stroke [of the pen] will pass from the Law until all things [which it foreshadows] are accomplished.” Mt. 5:17, 18. AMP

Goodnight and God bless.