#i’m not even full gay. i need to repent

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Unfortunately I loved the dangerously heterosexual Wonka movie so I gotta turn in my gay card. I’m so sorry

[wowbright]

Fic: Blessing (Spring/Summer 2012)

Fandom/pairing: Glee, pre-Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023, day 19: assist

Words: ~ 1250 words                                

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: During his junior year of high school, Kurt receives a glimpse of his future through his patriarchal blessing.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe and a new chapter in Small Things, which I thought I had completed in 2015. Back then, I wrote some notes around Kurt's patriarchal blessing, but it was too fragmented to include—I had a deadline for a fandom event, so I didn't have time to polish it up. On a chapter of Out of Eden I recently posted, @georgiegems asked about patriarchal blessings and why Blaine’s was so significant to him, so I figured now is the time to write that part of Kurt's story out. (This is NOT a spoiler for Out of Eden.)

You can read here or on AO3. The AO3 version includes what's here plus the complete text of Kurt’s patriarchal blessing.

-------------

“I’ve been praying about you,” Bishop Longquist says to Kurt one Sunday a few weeks after Kurt comes out. “I think it’s time you had your patriarchal blessing.”

A patriarchal blessing only comes once in a person’s lifetime. It’s a piece of personal scripture—a message from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to a faithful member of the church, delivered through an ordained member of the priesthood called a patriarch.

Kurt is caught off guard. He only came out to the bishop two months ago. The bishop was so loving and so understanding that Kurt felt prompted, a few weeks later, to confess what happened with Karofsky. That went well, too—maybe even better than Kurt wanted it to go. Kurt felt dirty and like he needed to repent, but Bishop Longquist said it wasn't Kurt’s fault, so he had nothing to repent of. Kurt knows what the bishop said made sense, but he still feels like there should be some kind of time requirement between getting kissed by a boy and receiving something so important as a patriarchal blessing. “Shouldn’t I wait a little longer?”

“The time to hear the Lord’s guidance for your life is now, don’t you think?”

“But I’m …” They’re in the hallway. A group of women stand outside the Relief Society room. Boys are filing past them in twos and threes to priesthood quorum. He lowers his voice. “My problem.”

Bishop Longquist smiles. It’s a sad, knowing smile, full of love and carrying the weight of the world with it because of that love. “You’re worthy, Kurt.”

A few weeks later, Kurt and Burt and Carole drive up to Toledo to where the patriarch lives. Kurt’s never met him before. His house is large, practically a mansion, and overlooking Maumee Bay. The patriarch’s wife is in a pink rayon dress with box pleats in the skirt. She wears pearls around her neck. She guides them to the home office and sets glasses of ice water on coasters that line the edge of the patriarch’s desk.

The patriarch himself has white hair, white skin, and a dark suit with an understated gray silk tie. He’s exactly what Kurt expected.

They sit on opposite sides of the desk, talking for a few minutes about school and Kurt’s longing to go on a mission. He can’t bring himself to let go of Carole’s hand, even though his own is raining sweat. Kurt skirts over glee club and doesn't mention his interest in fashion or the fact that he finds so much beauty in other boys. He’s not ashamed of being gay, exactly, but he doesn't want to arouse this stranger’s suspicions. It's not like God is likely to mention it anywhere during the patriarchal blessing—his gayness might be part of who he is on earth, but it's probably not part of his eternal character—so there's no need to bring it up at all.

The patriarch explains that the blessing comes from Heavenly Father, not from him. He is merely the vessel. He listens for God’s voice, which he occasionally hears in the form of words, but more often in the form of spiritual impressions. When he receives the impressions, he translates them into his own words, much like Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon from Reformed Egyptian, a language he did not speak, through the power of God. His wife will record and transcribe the blessing, and copies will be sent both to Kurt and to church headquarters. The church will make three digital copies of the blessing and store them in three different places, and a microfilm copy will also be preserved in a secure vault. That means that if Kurt ever loses his personal copy, or if his progeny in the future should like a copy, they can always get one from the church. Kurt can also make as many copies as he wants of the blessing he receives, so that he always has it on hand to study and to bring comfort to him. “But keep it out of the way of wandering eyes,” the patriarch advises. “This is personal scripture, and you should not let others read it outside your family. You may sometimes be prompted to share a general message from your blessing with another person, but when you do this, do not repeat the exact words or go into specific details lest they take it on as the word of God for themselves. No one can assist in interpreting another person's patriarchal blessing for them. If you have questions about what anything in your blessing means, pray to Heavenly Father for guidance.”

The patriarch says a short prayer, inviting the Holy Ghost to be with them. He asks Kurt to pray, too. Kurt’s so nervous, he has no idea what he says.

Then it’s time. Burt and Carole scoot their chairs back a little to give the patriarch room. The patriarch’s wife sets a digital recorder on top of the desk and makes sure it’s on. Kurt takes deep breath after deep breath, preparing himself for the moment the patriarch is going to lay his hands on him. Even after all these years in the church, he’s not quite used to people touching him at these intimate, spiritual moments. His body wasn’t wired that way—not unless it’s someone who knows him inside and out, like his mom and Dad and Carole, and sometimes Mercedes.

Kurt closes his eyes and bows his head, feels the warmth of the patriarch’s hands radiating near him before they actually make contact. They’re so warm, Kurt thinks of fire, and then The Spirit of God like a fire is burning! It’s the first line of a hymn Kurt’s been singing before he even knew how to read, and when the next lines follow—The latter-day glory begins to come forth; The visions and blessings of old are returning—he knows the Holy Ghost is already there with them in the room, in Kurt’s heart, witnessing that this blessing is from God.

Kurt feels the words more than hears them. The blessing gives him flashes of his past and his future: the safety of the preexistence, living beside his Heavenly Parents without fear or desire; the wise face of Ephraim, from whom he and his parents and the greatest tribe of Israel are descended, preserved until the last days to gather all the tribes of Israel together; the comfort of sitting in his mother’s lap when she was still alive, him so small and her so large and all-encompassing; a solid hug from his father; the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement as he walks alongside his missionary companion, an indescribable warmth in his heart; pink sunlight bathing the interior walls of temple rooms he’s only imagined but never seen; the squirming solidity of children in his arms, his children, when they come home for the first time; an unfamiliar yet comforting hand holding his, firm and loving, its pads fitting perfectly into the grooves of his own palm; a man’s voice—not his father’s, not the patriarch’s—a voice Kurt can’t place and yet feels like home to him, saying, “God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.”

[starlight-edith]

When I was five, I visited a church for the first time in memory. They wanted me to carry candles down the isle.

When I was 7 I attended one of the first legal gay marriages in my state.

Although my parents regularly profess liberal values, they regularly contradict them by use of slurs and love for offensive “humor.” This sentiment permeated my young mind, making me full of hatred and misunderstanding for those who couldn’t “take a joke”

My parents weren’t Christian, but everyone else around me was. They constantly bragged of how loved they felt by their community.

When I was 11 I went to a Spanish mission on a field trip. I prayed to God to please help me in my burdens, but nothing happened.

When I was twelve I tried to read the Bible, to feel God’s supposed love. It was too wordy and I gave up.

Later that year I met a boy. He felt betrayed by God and spoke ill of Him often. He opened me to the world of skepticism and true liberal values, but it would be years before I accepted them.

When I was 13 I met a girl. She became my world.

I realized I had feelings for her, and brought up the subject gently. She returned those feelings.

We started dating soon after.

All was going well, until we ran into an issue.

She was Christian, Russian Orthodox or Catholic most likely. She told me regularly that I would burn in hell if I didn’t repent my sin and accept Jesus.

I tried to tell her that such a thing was ridiculous given she was doing the same damn thing but apparently it was fine on her end because she “accepted Jesus into her heart”

Later that year I joined GSA (a safe space for LGBTQIA students on campus). On my very first day attending a boy ran past the door, screaming:

“FAGGOTS!!!!”

The teacher ran after him, but I never felt safe there after that and stopped attending.

Due to this reaction from everyone around me, I felt extremely unsafe, both at home, school, and with the girl who was supposed to love me.

That girl committed more “sins” than I have time to share, but she still felt the need to cast SEVERAL stones my way.

I left her after one final “you’re going to hell for being a faggot” speech.

But the damage had been done.

I was damaged goods. I became reclusive. I read the Bible as much as possible but I still didn’t feel loved. I felt disgusting every time I felt any sort of attraction, especially of a sexual nature.

Every time I did, I punished myself.

I started covering my hair. I covered as much of my body as I could.

Eventually I realized I was forever broken. There was nothing I could do.

I gave up. I had already taken up self harm but now I was actively planning my own suicide. Might as well get on with it if I’m going to burn anyway.

I tried so damn hard

So hard to not be broken

Eventually, after a complete mental break, I became numb to the issue.

I started healing.

But I’m still broken. I’m still hurting. I’m still a fucking faggot that’s going to burn in hell. And I’m still trying to find the fucking God that just stood by and let me hate myself. Let me hurt myself. The same God responsible for millions of deaths of those just like me. Those who refused to convert. Those “God’s Servants” deemed unworthy of life.t

So fuck you if you think you can just go around using slurs that have quite literally been the catalyst to millions of peoples deaths. Fuck you if you think that your God hasn’t been the reason for so much unnecessary death and suffering.

Fuck you if you think you or your “god” have the right to judge and kill, to commit GENOCIDE because of some stupid fucking words written by people who lived hundreds of years ago and didn’t even fucking know that you should wash your hands before doing surgery.

Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

If you can know how much fucking HARM this has done and still do it because it’s “fun” and you’ve “reclaimed” it and whatever bullshit, then I can’t help you.

I can’t help you if you refuse to see how fucking traumatizing this shit is.

I can’t help you if you think it’s okay to ignore that harm and continue on doing what you’re doing after being begged multiple times to stop.

If you know our history and still take this shit so lightly, I can’t help you.

I know slurs have been reclaimed, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re still extremely harmful. Queer is no longer used to oppress people to my knowledge, but the word faggot very much is, that’s the difference. If people started using the word queer as a way to justify fucking killing me, I’d stop using it IMMEDIATELY

Don’t fucking erase our trauma just because you want to fuck around with your friends.

[teddypicker232]

The Disappearance of Elizabeth McCarthy:

Summary:

Elizabeth is pronounced dead after a week of being missing… Charlotte’s mother moves on and thinks her daughter needs a man to ‘fix’ her now that her girlfriend is ‘gone’. Keith and Leo know better and try to find their psychotic friend.

Chapter 1: No words can explain the way I’m missing you

Elizabeth McCarthy has been pronounced dead after weeks of sear-“

The t.v was turned off… Charlotte stared at the black screen as tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried not to believe the words that had just come from the man in the news. Her mother was already making plans for Charlotte to go to a Christian cleansing camp so she could be ‘cleaned’ and repent from her gay ways… and her father was arranging plans for her to go on a date with another man’s son for a business arrangement.

Her breathing evened out as her mother’s annoyingly shrill voice ran through the house. “Charlotte! Come here sweetheart!” A sense of dread washed through her knowing full well her mother was going to force her to go one go those cleansing camps… again.. the sounds of heels clicked through the house as a woman with dark black hair and a fancy pants suit hugged her daughter… hopeful eyes burned into the teen’s skull.

“Since the… nutcase is dead-“ “Missing” the teen cut of the excited woman with venom dripping from her voice and a glare sent the older female’s way. “Darling… she’s dead… you need to stop living in your fantasy world… you’re not some ‘lesbo’ who likes women. Your a girl who needs a good husband..” Charlotte froze and looked at the woman. Her heart dropped as tears rolled down her cheeks “W-what is wrong with you?!” She shouted as she sobbed at the woman. Before her mother could come up with some bullshitty excuse her daughter was out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last thing Keith expected on a Friday afternoon was to see Charlotte sobbing at his front door. His fatherly kicked in. His arms wrapped around her and soothed her sobbing frame. Leo walked out from the kitchen with a worried and concerned face. “I-did… is everything ok Charlotte..?” The purplette asked with a soft voice as she stopped the tears. It felt like her voice wasn’t there, each word came out as another broken sob as she hugged Keith tight. Elizabeth couldn’t be dead… she refused to believe her lover was dead… right..?

Keith held the sobbing girl. It wasn’t uncommon for her to go non-verbal when things got too much for the poor girl’s emotions. “Shh. It’s ok. Well find her.” His sister wasn’t dead.. he’d refuse to believe it… his sister wouldn’t die without a bang, she was a girl who wanted to be remembered and having a cold case was not something that people would remember the blond nutcase by. And she would never leave this world without Charlotte knowing about what was happing… She would never let Charlotte live in this cruel world alone… Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain… why did everything ache… where was she…? She had to be dreaming right..? Please let this be a bad dream… Elizabeth looked around. She sat up… her bones aching like a grandma with arthritis. The blonde stood up shakily and tried to take her surroundings in… breathing uneven as her croaky voice called out to anyone who would listen… yet her cries fell upon deaf ears.

“Charlotte?! Charlotte please! Please… please answer me…”

Her voice breaking and growing weak as she fell to her knees. Sobs wracked her throat as she hugged herself. She was alone… she didn’t like being alone… please. Please save her… she wanted to go home… did anyone care though..? Was she important enough for anyone to try and find her…? Words and thoughts filled her mind… no one cared… Charlotte was only dating her to get back at her mother… Elizabeth wasn’t worthy of love… she wasn’t worthy of life… she was so alone…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Keith! Keith come here!!”

Whoever had taken Elizabeth was smart… cleaned their footprints well.. but they made a big mistake. The way she disappeared was a big give away. Everyone who knew the girl who probably slept in a graveyard knew she wanted to go out with a bang.. so the small and ‘peaceful death’ was a stupid mistake on the person’s part..

“I got the sheet from her job! It says she clocked in a 9:30! But.. she didn’t clock out.. which is odd as she’s always complaining about needing to finish work on time… whoever did this was smart with some parts but super fucking sloppy with other parts… but it doesn’t add up. Who would want her gone?”

The first few suspects were:

•Elizabeth’s mother (a druggy who caused Elizabeth to shut down most of the time)

•Charlotte’s mother (An overly homophobic woman who is trying to force her daughter into a marriage with a man who has the same hygiene as a dead corpse)

• Her boss (Elizabeth’s boss is just a prick)

But it still didn’t add up. Her mother was too high out of her mind all the time to even remember the child she put so much trauma onto. Charlotte’s mother wouldn’t kill a person… she couldn’t as she can’t even do her own taxes let alone kill someone… but that doesn’t matter on how weak the woman was… and Elizabeth’s boss really just.. wasn’t bothered.. so none of the suspects added up to the crime…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlotte lay in her bed. Feeling the small heart pendant between her fingers… the one person she didn’t want to see, her mother (god she hated her mother), came in and forced her to dress up nice to meet the ‘man’ she was to marry. It was disgusting how unhygienic a person could be, now she understood that a person’s mental health can cause you not to shower for 2 or 3 days. But this man seems to not shower EVER!!!! Why can’t her mother know that she wasn’t into men.. that she was a lesbian. To make it even worse, the dress she was forced to wear was the same one that she wore to her first date with Elizabeth. It made her seethe with anger, Charlotte knew that this was done on purpose by her mother. She could cry… just looking at the dress that Elizabeth first called her pretty in. Charlotte had her first kiss in this dress and now every memory would be ruined by some guy whose hygiene was the same as an old person in a vegetated state.. no. Wait sorry that was rude to the old people.. she missed Elizabeth.. Charlotte missed Elizabeth’s soft hands holding hers. The same smell of Linx that only she could make work. Those pretty Harley Quinn dyed pigtails.. all Charlotte wanted was Elizabeth back and safe… please let her be safe..

“I got the sheet from her job! It says she clocked in a 9:30! But.. she didn’t clock out.. which is odd as she’s always complaining about needing to finish work on time… whoever did this was smart with some parts but super fucking sloppy with other parts… but it doesn’t add up. Who would want her gone?”

The first few suspects were:

•Elizabeth’s mother (a druggy who caused Elizabeth to shut down most of the time)

•Charlotte’s mother (An overly homophobic woman who is trying to force her daughter into a marriage with a man who has the same hygiene as a dead corpse)

• Her boss (Elizabeth’s boss is just a prick)

But it still didn’t add up. Her mother was too high out of her mind all the time to even remember the child she put so much trauma onto. Charlotte’s mother wouldn’t kill a person… she couldn’t as she can’t even do her own taxes let alone kill someone… but that doesn’t matter on how weak the woman was… and Elizabeth’s boss really just.. wasn’t bothered.. so none of the suspects added up to the crime…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlotte lay in her bed. Feeling the small heart pendant between her fingers… the **one** person she didn’t want to see, her mother (god she hated her mother), came in and forced her to dress up nice to meet the ‘man’ she was to marry. It was disgusting how unhygienic a person could be, now she understood that a person’s mental health can cause you not to shower for 2 or 3 days. But this man seems to not shower EVER!!!! Why can’t her mother know that she wasn’t into men.. that she was a lesbian. To make it even worse, the dress she was forced to wear was the same one that she wore to her first date with Elizabeth. It made her seethe with anger, Charlotte knew that this was done on purpose by her mother. She could cry… just looking at the dress that Elizabeth first called her pretty in. Charlotte had her first kiss in this dress and now every memory would be ruined by some guy whose hygiene was the same as an old person in a vegetated state.. no. Wait sorry that was rude to the old people.. she missed Elizabeth.. Charlotte missed Elizabeth’s soft hands holding hers. The same smell of Linx that only she could make work. Those pretty Harley Quinn dyed pigtails.. all Charlotte wanted was Elizabeth back and safe… please let her be safe..

The first proper chapter!!! I’m acc so proud of me and s1mp1ly for this!!! AHHH!!! You can read it on my wattpad and my AO3 too!!

[samanthadalton]

Star Crossed Lovers (part 14)

Do my eyes deceive me???? part 14???? we did it. im so sorry its taken forever, i will try my best to be more consistent with my writing. love yall for being patient with me it means the most. thank you, thank you. 

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

warnings: angst, swearing (lots of it) 

taglist: @drmmyrs @cloud9in @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @fall3ngods @helpconfusedpersonhere @clowneryme @dopeyouth @boys-girls-i-cant-help-it-baby @vonda-b-real @uselesslesbianfr @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings @somethindarker (sorry again if ive missed anyone, if you wanna be added on this taglist or my general one just let me know 😊) 

word count: 4k (i feel like its short considering how long it took me to write but i still hope you guys enjoy) (also i didnt check for grammatical errors properly so sorry if you find any) 

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

The first steps to moving on 

“Bea please,” Poppy whispers, a repentant look creeping up to her face as she looks away from her girlfriend. “It can’t wait.” 

Bea sighs, her shoulders slumping as the last remains of her anger disseminates from her body. “Okay fine, lead the way babe.” 

Poppy stiffens that the pet name but she doesn’t let her awkwardness slip as she leads Bea to a secluded classroom, far away from prying eyes. Both her and Bea turn to look at each other, and both simultaneously open their mouths to talk. 

“I know you wanted to tell-” 

“We need to talk-” 

Both clamp their lips shut, a mutual smile playing on their lips as they look at one another. 

“You go first,” Poppy gestures towards Bea, as she moves to sit on the edge of a desk. 

Bea inhales softly, her tongue darts out licking her lips as she looks down at the ground, her face calculating. “Why does Chloe hate me?” She looks up to Poppy, her eyes boring into the strawberry blonde’s, sadness swimming inside of them, “I just don’t get what I’ve done for her to hate me.” 

Poppy sighs heavily, her eyes awkwardly darting away from Bea’s. “It’s complicated Bea.” 

“Complicated?” Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I almost just went off on Chloe after she gave her condolences for my mom dying because I just felt she wasn’t genuine and you wanna tell me it's complicated?” 

Poppy sharply inhales, contemplating for a few moments before saying, “it’s because of your mom.” 

Bea scrunches her brows up in confusion, “my mom? What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

Poppy ineptly plays with her hands, not being able to look Bea in her eyes, “at first it was just a classist thing. When you first came to Belvoire, she just wanted to make herself feel superior over you, but in the last year you’ve noticed her getting more mean right?” 

“Right.” Bea stares at Poppy, her expression emotionless. 

“Chloe’s parents have been fighting non stop recently, and it’s been affecting her a lot.” 

Bea’s brows furrow in confusion, “what does that have to do with me or my mom?” 

“Just let me explain first before you react, please.” Bea’s eyes bore into Poppy’s for a few seconds before she nods understandingly. “Her dad cheated on her mom. A lot of times actually. But he was blackmailed by one of the women he slept with.” Poppy pauses for a few seconds, “your mom.” 

Bea lets out a shaky breath, her eyes blinking in disbelief, “no, you’re lying.” 

Poppy nervously bites her bottom lip, “look Bea-” 

“How long have you known?”

Poppy’s face scrunches up in anger, “this isn’t my fault Bea. I only found out that day I went to talk to Chloe about us. Chloe made me promise not to say anything to you-” 

“Poppy! My mom OD and I don’t even know why. And now you’re telling me she was blackmailing the St James family and it doesn’t occur to you that might have had something to do with her death?” 

“They’re not the fucking mafia Bea, jesus. They were trying to settle it quietly by giving your mom some money and make her sign some stuff so she couldn't threaten them anymore.” 

The devastating ramification of Poppy’s admission hangs in the air as the two girls let the words settle into them. “Chloe really is sorry about your mom Bea, we all are.” 

Bea sighs, staring off into space, as a few tears begin to fill up in her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.” Bea begins sniffling, but Poppy makes no movement to console her girlfriend. Bea notices and her expression sobers, “so, uh what did you wanna tell me?” Bea sniffs a few more times, before looking up at Poppy, giving her a small encouraging smile. 

Poppy looks away, guilt creeping up on her face, as she tries her damndest not to catch Bea’s small smile on her face. “Bea…”. Bea carefully assesses her girlfriend’s demeanour, noticing the similar body language during when they first asked to take a break, she thinks back to the last couple of days, she had barely heard from her girlfriend, and now she’s not affectionate, even after she almost had a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway and her smile drops. “We have to break up,” Poppy says, her tone so monotone and dry as if she didn’t mean the words she was saying at all. 

“I don’t understand,” is all Bea can muster, evidently hurt by Poppy’s admission. Poppy winces slightly at Bea’s tone, finally breaking her robotic demeanour as she lets out a few sniffles. “So is that it? We have to break up,” Bea retorts mockingly, “is that all I get after all these years?” 

“Bea..” Poppy reaches out but Bea immediately takes a step back, tears flooding in her eyes. 

“No,” she holds her hands up, “I don’t get it, things are going good, or at least whatever twisted definition of good we’ve made up. Where the hell did this come from?” 

“Bea my dad-” 

“Of course! Hayden Min fucking Sinclair had something to do with this. Why do you still live under his shadow? You talk all this shit about breaking out of your father’s prison and wanting to achieve your own goals but he sucks you back in.” 

“That’s not fair Bea,” Poppy interjects, balling her hands up into fists in an attempt to subdue her trembling, “my dad has given me so much and he’s threatening to take it all away.” 

“Yeah, all you have to do is get rid of me. Me or the Min Sinclair name.” 

“Bea this is the life I have, okay I’m not like you, I’m not built like you.” 

“So what? I can grow up without a dad and now without a mom but it’s okay because I’m used to pain and disappointment?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, you have a plan, things you can achieve, I need the Min Sinclair name, I’m nothing without it.” 

“Wow.” Bea shakes her head, “So I just meant nothing?” Bea wildy throws her arms in the air, anger bubbling under the surface of her demeanour. “We’ve practically been together since we were kids. And you’re just gonna fucking throw that away? And for what? Fuck you Poppy.” 

Poppy takes half a step back, dumbfounded by Bea’s outburst. She scrunches her brows, evidently hurt, “you don’t get it Bea. Even though your mom wasn’t the best, she still supported you, even if you didn’t know about it. My dad he- my mom what would she think?” 

“Your mom? Poppy what kind of shit is your dad brainwashing you with? Your mom is dead! You have no idea how she would react to having a gay daughter, but I know she’s probably disappointed in you.” 

“Fuck you Bea.”Poppy runs out of the classroom, tears streaming down her face, leaving Bea on her own. 

“Shit,” Bea whispers to herself before throwing a bunch of punches at the wall, each more cathartic than the last until she can’t physically hold herself up anymore. Bea defeatedly slides into a chair, cradling her head in between her hands, letting the tears free fall, as reality begins setting in that she lost the one thing in the world that was her everything. Poppy Min Sinclair was her rock, the girl who she gave her heart to, the love of her life and just in a matter of moments it was over. Maybe it was too good to be true. The beautiful, perky popular rich girl and the girl who had almost nothing, complete polar opposites, it never should’ve worked. But time and time again when faced against the world they persevered so why was this time different? Poppy had chosen her namesake over the love of her life. She chose the life of glitz and glamour over the girl who gave her her entire heart. Bea feels her entire world crashing down, how much more heartbreak could she take? Was her life always going to be so hard? So full of hurt? Full of pain? She winces at the thought, her head hammering as she comes to the realisation that she understood her mother’s pain more than she thought. 

…. 

Bea hops off her bike, parking it in front of her house, as she pulls her phone out to look at the time. ‘It’s lunch time,’ she thinks to herself. After the day she had today, school wasn’t the best option for her right now. She makes her way to her front door but stops in her tracks when she realises her front door is slightly ajar. Her survival instincts kick in as she effortlessly pulls out her pocket knife, carefully pushing the door fully open. As she steps into the living room, her eyes dart to the closed door of her mother’s room, but when she hears a creaking sound coming towards her bedroom, she cautiously moves towards the source of the noise, the grip on her knife tightening. As she creeps up, she sees the door of her room half opened, a hooded figure standing by her bed with their back facing her. 

Bea stealthily sneaks up to the figure placing the knife a few inches from their throat before lowering her voice to a threatening tone, “who are you and what the fuck are you doing?” The figure gasps, dropping a bag that’s in their hands with a deafening thud before raising their hands in a sign of surrender. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” the voice whimpers out. 

“AJ?” Bea raises her eyebrows, retracting the knife from his throat while pulling down his hood with her other hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bea takes a step back while AJ scrambles grabbing the bag he just dropped moments before. When he turns to face Bea, his eyes are wide, filled with fear as he clutches the bag closely to his chest. 

“I have to go,” he says as he attempts to run out of the room, but Bea pulls him back, her face crumpled in suspicion. 

“No we’re not doing this, give me the bag now,” Bea snatches the bag out of his hands before he can protest and opens the zipper to find it filled with cash. She grits her teeth, anger settling into her features as she whips her head up to AJ, “is this my fucking money?” 

“Bea, I- I can explain-” 

“What the fuck AJ!” Bea throws the bag onto the bed, the cash spilling out as she jabs an accusing finger at AJ’s chest. “You’re stealing from me now? I haven’t seen you in god knows how long, you don’t call, text nothing. Even after everything that’s been happening in the last few weeks but you have the audacity to fucking steal from me? Money that I’ve spent years saving? Money that I’ve bussed my fucking ass off for, are you serious right now?” Bea’s voice is filled with rage as she’s practically screaming, her voice now thundering. AJ winces, guiltily averting his gaze to the ground, unable to meet Bea’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry about your mom Bea, I wanted to visit-” AJ croaks out.

“But you didn’t,” Bea interjects, her voice lowered but filled with hurt. “And now you’re taking money- I mean what is so important you had to steal from me.” 

AJ paces towards the bed, hanging his head in shame, when he speaks his voice is quiet, full of fear, “I’m in some bad shit Bea. These guys aren’t playing around.” 

“I told you not to fall into the wrong crowd, I warned you this shit would happen.” 

“Bea please, I’ll pay you back I just need it.” 

“No! What the fuck, when will you pay me back huh? This is my college money, I’m not letting you give that away to your crackhead friends.” 

“Bea please,” AJ clasps his hands together, his tone pleading, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“AJ I have too much shit on my plate right now, I can’t deal with this. You need to find something else, I can’t help you.” 

AJ’s face pales but he stands up, and makes his way towards the door, before leaving he turns to look back at Bea, “I’m sorry about everything.” 

Bea keeps her eyes trained on her bed where the money is sprawled all over the mattress, “yeah me too,” she replies quietly. Bea hears the front door close and she collapses to the ground, letting the tears flow. 

……

A few days later, Bea sits in her dark living room, curtains shut and lights completely off as she wallows in her sadness, drinking from a bottle of cheap beer, as she stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, so drowned in her thoughts she doesn’t hear the resounding knocks on her door until she hears a voice call out, “Bea! Are you there?” 

Bea crumples her brows, forcing herself to stand as she makes her way to the door, she wearily makes her way to her front door only slightly opening the door before poking her head out. “Veronica?” Veronica gives the girl a wide smile before pushing the door more open, ushering the figure behind her into the house too, “Carter? What are you guys doing here?’ 

Veronica looks around the dark room, noticing the pile of empty beer bottles on the floor, “yikes, drinking on your own on a friday night Hughes? That’s really sad.” Carter stands near the edge of the living room, as if he’s an explorer, his eyes darting all over the living room as he assesses this new environment. 

Bea on the other hand scowls at Veronica, “what the hell do you want Veronica, I’m not in the mood.” 

Veronica frowns slightly, pouting her lips together, “we heard about you and Poppy.” 

Bea rolls her eyes, “yeah well I’m trying to forget about her.” Bea picks up her beer bottle from the ground and makes a show by exaggeratingly drinking from the bottle until it's empty. She discards the empty bottle along with the other ones before turning to look at Veronica and Carter, “so if you’ll excuse me.” 

Veronica steps towards Bea, wrapping her hand around the brunette’s arm, “we’re not here for Poppy stupid, we’re here for you.” 

Bea raises an eyebrow, “for me?” 

Veronica turns to look at Carter, beckoning him forward, Carter breaks out of reverie and clears his throat, “yeah uh, we wanted to take you to a party.” 

“A party?” Bea looks between them confused, “I’m not that interested guys.”

“Wait, wait, wait Bea,” Veronica pleads, pulling Bea closer to her, “you’ve never been to a Belvoire party and the year is almost over, we thought we should take you to at least.” 

“I don’t know guys,” Bea says skeptically, “a lot of people don’t like me.” 

“Who gives a shit? You just had your heart broken and you need to let loose.” 

Bea sighs, pulling away from Veronica, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Come on, it beats drinking in the dark on your own.” 

Bea sighs, dropping her shoulders, “what about uh Poppy?” 

“Poppy?” Veronica arches a brow, “her and Chloe are staying in tonight, she said she needed to catch up on homework or something.” 

Bea purses her lips together in thought before sighing,  “fine.” Veronica cheers, “but,” Bea over enunciates, “only for a few hours and if I don’t like it I’m going home.” 

“Okay, deal,” Veronica squeals, wrapping Bea in a big hug. Carter chuckles as Veronica gestures for him to join the hug, he awkwardly wraps his arms around the two girls, before pulling away. 

“Okay, I’ll wait in the car while you girls get ready. Just uh don’t take too long.”

Veronica playfully rolls her eyes as she Bea towards her bedroom, yelling back “thanks Carter.” Giddy, she rushes to Bea’s closest, assessing her clothes until she finds a short red dress hidden in the back. “This!” 

“No, no, no,” Bea shakes her head, pulling the dress out of the ombre-haired girl’s hands. 

“Why not? It would look so hot on you,” Veronica’s eyes trail down Bea’s body, as she sharply inhales. “Bea, you’re single and sexy, stop holding yourself back okay?” 

“I’m not,” Bea pushes back defensively, “I just-” she sighs heavily, “no one at Belvoire has ever seen me dressed up, I’m just- I’m nervous I guess.” 

“Then we have to show them what they’ve been missing for the last three years,” Veronica gives Bea a devilish smile as she takes the dress from Bea’s hands, sliding the dress off the hanger before handing it over to Bea. 

“Uh you gonna stay in the room?” Bea nervously wrings her hands together. 

“Why, are you offering a show?” Veronica lifts a teasing brow, noticing Bea’s cheeks redden slightly, which prompts her to let out a small laugh, “I’m kidding, don’t worry I won’t look.” Veronica makes a show of raising her hands to cover her eyes. Bea laughs as she slips out of her clothes and into the dress, she awkwardly clears her throat, grabbing Veronica’s attention. 

“Hey, uh help a girl out with her zipper?” 

“Sure,” Veronica moves to stand behind Bea, her hands ghosting around Bea’s exposed back, her breath momentarily taken away. She sturdies herself and places one of her hands on the small of the brunette’s back while the other moves towards the zipper, zipping the girl up. Bea smooths the dress down with her hands appreciating herself in the mirror, “you look gorgeous,” Veronica whispers into the shell of her ear. 

Bea’s face completely flushes red and slightly jerks at Veronica’s admission, “uhh thanks.” 

Veronica notices the awkward shift in the atmosphere, and promptly changes the subject, “so where’s your sister?” 

Bea sits in front of her mirror, a comb in her hand as she brushes her long locks, “she’s staying at a friend’s tonight.” 

“Cool,” Veronica answers back but her tone falls flat. The girls bask in the awkward silence as Bea continues to get ready but when Veronica notices Bea struggling to do her winged eyeliner she breaks the silence. “Hey do you need help?” 

Bea smiles bashfully, “yeah.” She rubs the back of her head with her hand, “sorry Poppy used to help me with my makeup.” 

“Right,” Veronica’s face slightly falls but she quickly covers it up, ushering Bea to come and sit on the bed. “Come on, I don’t bite,” Veronica bites the bottom of her lip, “unless you want me too.” Bea laughs but obliges sitting on the edge of the bed. Veronica clambers onto her lap, her thighs settling on the sides of Bea’s legs, and in response, Bea’s eyes widen in surprise but she remains glued in her spot, too shocked to move. 

“V, what are you doing?” Bea whispers, her voice attempting to come across as reprimanding but it comes out as breathy. 

“Relax, I’m just doing your eyeliner.” Veronica plucks the wand from Bea’s hand and angles herself close to the brunette’s face, as she begins drawing on the wings on Bea’s eyelids. Bea steadies herself, as she feels the heat of Veronica’s body so close to hers and when Veronica is finished with putting the finishing touches on her eyelids, she hops off Bea’s lap, making her way towards the desk, scuffling through Bea’s makeup bag before taking up her place on Bea’s lap once again. “Now I think this colour would look good on you,” 

“You don’t think it’s too much red?” 

“Oh babe, red means power, dominance, you don’t wanna be thinking about Poppy the entire night, you wanna have all eyes on you Bea Hughes.” Veronica uncaps the lipstick, her eyes burning into Bea’s lips as she carefully applies the red colour to her lips. “Perfect.” 

Bea smacks her lips together, evenly spreading the red on her lips. “Thanks V.” 

Veronica’s eyes dart to Bea’s lips, her tongue slightly running along her bottom lips before she breaks out of her reverie flashing Bea a smirk, “don’t thank me yet, thank me when you’re having the time of your life at the party.” Veronica slides off Bea’s lap, holding her hand out, “come on let’s finish up because Carter’s been waiting for a while.” Bea smiles up at Veronica, taking her hand as she lets the ombre-haired girl pull her off the bed, as they continue getting ready. 

………

Once they arrive at the party, Carter drops the girls off at the front of the huge house before telling them he will park the car. Veronica’s gaze darts to Bea, who’s nervously toying with her hands, looking up at the intimidating house, the lights blaring and as the music echoes throughout, the bass thumping in their ears. Noticing the nerves settling into her, Veronica slips into Bea's, giving her a reassuring squeeze, “hey, it’s okay, it’s just a bunch of drunk, preppy uptight teenagers, nothing you don't usually face everyday.” 

Bea lets out a small laugh, “just in a big ass house,” she jests. 

“Yeah, just in a big ass house,” she gives Bea a light squeeze as she starts pulling Bea into the house with her. Automatically, they’re met with stares and whispers, as the students look astonished at Bea, some appraising her outfit, while others are confused about her presence. “Hey, just stay with me okay?” Veronica whispers over to Bea. Bea nods, her eyes roaming the room. “I’ll get us drinks.” The ombre-haired girl gives Bea a reassuring pat on her arm and leaves her side and Bea walks into the living room, observing the difference between the vibes of the party between the north and the south. Her thoughts then move to think about Poppy, how Poppy would love going to parties in the north but Bea couldn’t find the appeal in it. Poppy. Poppy, who broke up with her. She’s interrupted from her thoughts by a tap of her shoulder, and Bea turns around to see Veronica offering her a red solo cup, Bea takes a sip and winces. 

“What the hell is this crap?” 

“Yeah for a bunch of rich kids, their taste in beer isn’t the best,” Veronica jokes, slightly nudging Bea. 

“We have way better beer in the south side.” 

“That I can agree with.” Veronica looks over to Bea who looks lost in thought, “hey what are you thinking about?” 

Bea sighs heavily, “Poppy,” she mutters. 

Veronica nods once, “right, yeah.” 

“Poppy would’ve loved a party like this, big fancy house an-” 

“Bea,” Veronica says, her tone slightly agitated, “this,” she gestures around the room, “is a no Poppy zone. That means we don’t think about Poppy, only about fun.” 

Bea nods, “fun. I can do that.” Veronica lifts her cup in the air, “what are we cheering to?” 

Veronica gives Bea a smile, “here’s to the first steps in moving on.” The girls tap their cups together before downing their drinks. “Now if we wanna get drunk, we’re gonna need a lot more of these.” 

The party is still ongoing, and Bea sits in a circle with a few girls from the volleyball team and a few of the football team and other people she doesn’t recognise while Veronica sits beside her. 

“Bea you look so pretty,” one of her teammates says. 

“Yeah Bea your makeup is literally gorgeous,” another chimes in. 

“Who knew strip tease can clean up well,” Ford jests, but Bea slumps her shoulders a little, remembering that these people are not her friends. 

Carter enters the circle slapping Ford on the head as he goes, “shut up, Hughes is cool.” Bea gives Carter a nod of appreciation before looking down at the drink in her hands. Her thoughts move a million miles a minute, but there’s a constant one stuck in her brain, Poppy.

Veronica looks over at Bea, frowning. “Hey come with me.” She stands, excusing herself from the group and Bea follows her close behind. 

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re gonna play a private game of truth or drink.” 

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Simply Meant To Be (pt 2)

[Part 1]

You don’t need to read part 1 to read this one since that one is Roman backstory and this one is Janus backstory

Rating: teen

Word Count: 3456

Pairings: Remile, Moxiety kinda (they’re kids, but they’re soulmates so I guess it’s future moxiety), Roceit but only at the very end

Warnings: religion, religious cults, religious guilt, child abuse, internalized homophobia, childhood trauma, stalking, threats of kidnapping, throwing up, psychological warfare (?), paranoia, swearing

I think that’s everything

It’s worse than you’d expect after the first part, but not quite as bad as the warnings make it sound, but if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable then feel free to skip this part

I started with some religious stuff right off the bat, so I put the entire fic below the cut

~~~START~~~

When Janus was growing up, he was taught that the colorblindness that everyone was born with was a test from God. God created a beautiful world full of wonderful colors, then gave man the ability to view only a fraction of this beauty. The wicked ones searched selfishly for ways to see even more, but the humble ones were grateful for what little beauty they were given. 

Soulmates were frowned upon in the Community. Janus was taught from a young age that soulmates were a trick, sent by Satan to lead people away from God. Even those who met their soulmates by accident were expelled from the Community. 

As such, Janus never expected to see color — for a while he’d even dreaded the mere thought of it — so he taught himself to discern between shades of gray. He was very good at it, almost to the point that someone who could see color would be fooled into thinking Janus could too. 

The Elders were not very pleased with this skill, and the Community as a whole was torn as to whether it was a sin or not. They said it was a reflection of his desire to see colors, of his desire to stray from God. 

So Janus repented. He begged forgiveness and promised to abandon his skill. He was devoted to God and only God. 

That was a lie of course, Janus prided himself on his ability to discern shades of gray, but he didn’t see why that had to be mutually exclusive to being devoted to God. 

Pride was a sin, and so was lying, but they were lesser sins to the Community than soulmates and colors. God would forgive him. 

He lived in the Community for twenty years, rarely leaving the town and when he did it was only for a few hours. 

He carries a lot of baggage from those twenty years, but he’s doing his best to shoulder it, to not let it affect his relationships with those around him, to not let any of the Community’s teachings hurt his son. 

Sometimes the little voice in the back of his head told him he was being selfish. Janus always silenced this voice with one thought: there’s nothing wrong with a little selfishness. 

Janus started going to gay bars on Saturday nights to feed his selfishness. He was never looking for anything, he had a young son at home after all, but one time, he kissed a man — he threw up in the bathroom afterwards, but he still counted it as a victory. 

There was a teenager that lived in the apartment next to Janus and Virgil’s first home outside the Community, and they were always willing to watch Virgil for a few hours, even if Janus couldn’t afford to pay them much. Elliot was Janus’ first friend outside of the Community, probably his first real friend ever. 

Janus hit Virgil once. Virgil was about two and a half at the time, and he’d proudly told Janus that his favorite color was magenta — after the dog on Blue’s Clues — and Janus hadn’t even thought, he’d just slapped his own son across the face. In the Community, a slap on the face would be the least of a child’s concerns after saying such a thing, but this wasn’t the Community, and Janus was trying to be better than them. He’d been completely consumed by guilt before the tears even began forming in Virgil’s eyes. 

“I’m so sorry baby!” Janus apologized, pulling Virgil in for a tight hug and rocking back and forth in a soothing motion. Virgil easily accepted the hug, and that only made Janus feel worse. Virgil trusted him completely, and he’d betrayed that trust. Janus was going to be better; he was going to do better. He was never going to hurt Virgil again. “I’m so sorry darling. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all my fault; I shouldn’t have done that. I did a very bad thing, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay daddy. I forgive you.” Janus’ heart broke even more; he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He didn’t deserve this child. 

After Virgil went to bed that night, Janus searched the internet for therapists. Doctor Emile Picani came highly recommended, and after a brief email exchange, they agreed to help Janus, even though he couldn’t afford their usual rate. 

Picani was an… interesting character. They made several strange statements then told him that they were references to cartoons that Janus had never even heard of. TVs in the Community weren’t for children to use, and Virgil was only two, he mostly just watched Blue’s Clues, Dora the Explorer, and Sesame Street. After telling Picani that, they changed their references accordingly, telling Janus that they had their own two-year-old at home, and they were more than familiar with the kind of shows Virgil was watching. 

Picani didn’t think Janus was a bad person, which was a foreign thought for Janus, who was certain that he was going straight to Hell. They were good at finding ways to make the little voice in Janus’ head shut up. It took Janus a while to believe him, but it got a little easier every week. 

Over the years, Emile became his friend, and Janus was grateful to have them every day. 

Emile was the one who insisted that Janus let them throw a birthday party for Virgil’s 5th birthday. Birthday parties hadn’t been a thing in the Community, and even after he left, Janus mostly just celebrated Virgil’s birthday by getting him new clothes, a whole party was a completely foreign idea. 

But Janus had said yes and agreed to bring Virgil over to Emile’s place the following Saturday. The party, he’d been told, would just be Emile, Emile’s husband Remy, and their son Patton. That was good, neither Janus nor Virgil were very good in crowds. 

Of course, whether there was a crowd or not hardly mattered when Virgil had met Patton and informed Janus that “everything is prettier now!”, Janus had a panic attack either way. 

Virgil can see colors! That isn’t allowed, they’ll take him away! He’s only five he needs me! They won’t let me keep him! This is all wrong!

“-five, six, seven. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good. Are you with me, Jan?”

“Yes,” Janus croaked. He was in a different room now, with only Emile. Virgil was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Virgil!?”

“Breath, Janus. Virgil is in the living room with Remy and Patton. Remy is teaching them all the different colors.”

“They’re going to take him away!”

“No one’s going to take him away. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him meeting his soulmate. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“You’re not going to lose him. You’re not in the Community, there’s no reason anyone will take him away.”

“I’m sorry,” Janus apologized, wiping at his tears. “I probably scared the kids.”

“Would you like a hug?” Janus nodded. That was one of the nice things about being friends with Emile, they gave great hugs and gave them freely. “Virgil was a little concerned about you, but Patton didn’t notice. Remy’s with them now, they’re okay. Do you want to go join them?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright.” Emile allowed them to sit in silence for a while before speaking up again. “I’m proud of you.”

“Why?” Janus asked miserably. 

“Your son met his soulmate and you didn’t respond with anger, you didn’t repeat any of the Community’s teachings, it’s a big step for you.”

“It doesn't feel like a big step.”

“Well it is.” And that was that. 

Ten minutes later Janus was feeling up to joining the others. Virgil climbed into Janus’s lap as soon as he sat down, and having his son in his arms did wonders as far as calming himself down went. 

“This is my source material!” Virgil informed Patton and Remy happily. Patton accepted that information easily, but Remy shot Janus a bemused look. 

Janus shrugged in return. As soon as Virgil had started getting anywhere near being able to speak, Elliot started teaching him weird phrases in the hope that Virgil’s first word would be strange, some of them stuck. 

Virgil started babbling after that, telling Janus about how ‘Mr. Remy’ was teaching him about colors and soulmates. Internally, Janus was grateful that someone else had given Virgil the soulmate talk, someone who hadn’t grown up with a cynical and toxic view of soulmates. 

Other than the hiccup at the beginning, Virgil’s birthday party went pretty well. Patton was a very nice boy — though he’d have to be considering he was Emile’s kid — and Janus truly couldn’t have picked a better soulmate for Virgil if he tried. Patton seemed to have an absurd amount of emotional intelligence for a not-yet five-year-old, and when Virgil starts fatiguing towards the end of the night, Patton’s energy level changes appropriately. 

Janus headed home that night with a sleeping child, two new stuffed animals — one of Blue and one of Magenta — a box of Playdough, a Sesame Street coloring book with crayons — a last minute addition thrown in because of Virgil’s newfound colors — and newfound sense of peace. His son met his soulmate and nothing bad had happened. 

Play dates became a regular thing, and Janus was glad his son would already have one friend going into kindergarten in the fall. One of the kids’ favorite things to do during play dates was painting, and as a result, Janus found himself using his skill to baffle Remy with his ability to paint everything the correct color, even when Remy tried to trick him. Painting, however, was not particularly fun to Janus in and of itself, and wasn’t something he partook in when he and Virgil were at home. 

Remy was actually the one to suggest a different medium for Janus: makeup. Remy even allowed Janus to use him as a canvas, and Janus’ skills on a living canvas soon flourished. Often he would sit down to practice on Remy, and Virgil and Patton would do the same with Emile. Janus’ work would of course look a lot better in the end, but Emile vehemently claimed to love both looks equally. 

Eventually Janus started a YouTube channel dedicated to makeup tutorials. He always used Remy or Emile as models, appearing himself with contacts and half his face painted to look like a snake, hoping that was enough to obscure his identity in case anyone in the Community ever came across his channel. 

His channel became fairly popular, not enough for Janus to make a living from that alone, but he did make enough from the channel for it to pay for itself. He could afford better makeup brands, which meant he could make cooler designs, which made his channel more popular. It was going well. 

Until his mother showed up on his doorstep one day, nearly a decade since he’d last seen her. 

“Janus.”

“Mother.” He didn’t have anything to say to her. Not a thing. Ten years and he hadn’t once felt the need to reach out to her. 

“When are you going to stop this silly game and come home, Janus? We miss you, and this is no environment to raise Virgil in.” She gestured to Janus’ apartment, and Janus’ blood began to boil. 

“Well excuse me for not meeting your standards, mother, but as I recall, it wasn’t my choice to leave in the first place!”

“If this is about Emmaline-”

“It’s not just about Emmaline! Virgil and I are perfectly happy where we are, and I’m not about to go exposing him to your toxic-”

“TOXIC!? Janus Lysander Hadley you take that back this instant! I will not have you speaking about our faith that way!”

“It’s not my faith, mother, it’s yours, and it has no place in my home!”

He should have been expecting the slap, it was a common way for his mother to respond to anyone disagreeing with her, but it had been so long, the sharp sting on his cheek came as a complete surprise. 

“Step aside, Janus, I’m taking Virgil home whether you’re coming or not. You’re clearly not fit to raise a child.”

Her trying to push past Janus and into his apartment shook Janus out of his shocked stupor and he blocked her advance. 

“You’ve never been fit to raise a child in your life!” He hissed, pushing her away from the door. “Now kindly fuck off, mother, you aren’t welcome here!”

He slammed the door on her shocked face, and quickly locked the door, locked the deadbolt, and slid the door chain in place. As soon as the door was thoroughly locked, his mother started pounding on the door, the gravity of the situation sunk in, and his panic started mounting. 

His mother found him. She knew where he lived. She wanted to take Virgil from him. He yelled at his mother. She knew where he lived. He made her angry. She wanted to take Virgil from him. She knew where he lived!

“Sperm donor?”

His son’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Virgil was peeking out from behind the partition for the living room, where he wouldn’t have been visible from the door. He was clearly scared, because of course he was, his father had just had a screaming match with a woman he probably didn’t recognize outside their apartment, and said woman was proceeding to yelling abuse through the apartment door. It had to have more than a little unsettling for the ten-year-old. 

“It’s okay, mini me, everything’s going to be fine.” Janus crossed the room to pull his son into a hug. Virgil latched on to him immediately, shaking from stress. 

“I don’t want to go with her,” Virgil mumbled into Janus’s sweater. “She’s mean.”

“You don’t have to.” Janus tightened his arms around his son protectively. “You’re staying with me.”

Janus’ mother stopped pounding on the door eventually — presumably because one of the neighbors either threatened to call the police, or actually called the police — but Janus and Virgil’s nerves were both shot for the rest of the day, and they both ended up spending the night at the Picanis’. 

Janus didn’t see hide nor hair of his mother for weeks after the incident, but his paranoia levels were through the roof. He wouldn’t let Virgil be home alone anymore, instead having him go home with Patton after school, staying at the Picanis’ until Janus could pick him up. Every day when he got home he would search their apartment for anything out of place that would suggest that someone broke in, he even went as far as constructing minor booby traps for anyone who tried to root around through their things. 

“Janus — I’m saying this as your friend, and as a mental health professional — I’m concerned about you,” Emile told him one day when he came to pick up Virgil from their house. “You’ve been on edge for weeks, it’s not healthy, for you or for Virgil. He told me he’s been having nightmares, you know.”

“I know, I know! But I don’t know what to do!” Janus stressed, he was dangerously close to his breaking point, but he didn’t know how to stop it. 

“Have you considered moving?” Emile asked gently. “It’s clear you don’t feel safe here, maybe putting some more distance between you and your parents will ease your distress.”

“I can’t move; you guys live here. I can’t just take Virgil away from Patton, he’d be devastated.”

“I’m not saying move to Antarctica and become a hermit, we can visit, and Patton and Virgil can Skype. Yeah, it’ll be hard and both of them, but this is hard on them too. Janus, I think it’s important for you to feel safe in your own home, and you obviously don’t.”

“I don’t know…”

But a week later, Janus would be pushed over the edge. 

He came home from work — thankfully before picking Virgil up — to find his apartment door wide open. Cautiously, he searched the apartment for any intruders, but after twenty minutes he was confident that no one was around. 

There were a few things missing, mostly all of Virgil’s crayons and colored pencils, as well as his coloring books and some of the drawings he’d made that Janus had put on the fridge. There were also a few photos of Janus and Virgil missing from their frames, and a tile with Virgil’s baby handprint missing from the kitchen. And three of Janus’ booby traps had been sprung telling him that whomever broke into his apartment — presumably his mother — had opened the hall closet, the cabinet next to the fridge, and the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. 

As if that was bad enough, there, in plain sight on the dining room table was a copy of the Community’s version of the Bible. 

“We have to move.” Janus wasn’t sure how he ended up at the Picanis’; everything after finding the bible had been a panicked blur. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay at that apartment anymore. 

Moving was hard. Virgil didn’t like it, but he was afraid of their apartment too, and if Janus and Virgil just moved in with the Picanis — which Remy had suggested — then Janus’ parents would just start terrorizing them too, and Janus couldn’t have that. No, it was better that he and Virgil move away, not just to a new apartment, but to a new city, a new state even! Somewhere his parents wouldn’t find him or Virgil. 

They ended up moving to Florida, halfway across the country. Remy had a cousin in Florida, one that he swore up and down that Janus would love, and moving somewhere where he sort of knew someone was better than starting over from scratch a second time. 

Remy and Patton came with them to help them move and to allow Patton and Virgil to spend as much time together as they could. Emile stayed behind since they couldn’t reschedule all their appointments on such short notice. Emile did suggest a new therapist near Janus’ new home, and included a suggestion for Virgil too. 

Having Remy around for the moving process was good because he was able to parcel things out in ways that didn’t make Janus feel overwhelmed with the amount of work that went into moving. Having Patton around for the moving process was good because when all Virgil could see were negatives, Patton pointed out the positives and had a way of making Virgil begrudgingly agree to them. 

Part of the moving process was for Janus to change his and Virgil’s name in the hopes of throwing his parents off their scent. Since Virgil was taking the move so hard, Janus let him pick their new last name to make him feel better. Of course Virgil was beginning to enter his emo-pre-teen-angst phase, so he picked a name that was edgy and extra: Storm. 

Janus Storm. 

He sounded like a supervillain, but it made Virgil happy, and he could never resist anything that made Virgil happy. 

Before Remy and Patton went home, Remy introduced Janus and Virgil to his cousin: Thomas Sanders. Thomas owned a theater in town, and offered to let Janus use him as a model for his YouTube videos. He was alright; Virgil seemed to like him well enough, and Janus trusted Virgil’s instincts on these kinds of things. 

It was a teary goodbye when Remy and Patton went home, and Virgil refused to speak for the rest of the day, but once their plane touched down, Patton called on Remy’s phone, so maybe the distance wouldn’t be too bad. 

The Picanis came to visit for Virgil’s eleventh birthday since it occurred during Patton’s winter break. They ended up staying for almost a week.

Almost a year after Janus and Virgil moved to Florida, Thomas called Janus to tell him that the makeup artist at his theater quit, and that the job was Janus’ if he wanted it. 

Taking that job turned out to be the best decision of his life. 

“I’m Roman.”

The moment Janus had been dreading since he was a child was finally happening. The moment Janus had learned to be cautiously optimistic about was finally happening. 

Slowly, as though someone were carefully turning up the volume on a speaker, the monochrome world around Janus began to change, and he finally understood what Virgil meant by ‘everything is prettier’, because it was. It was wonderful and terrifying all at once. 

“Janus.”

~~~END~~~

Janus’ backstory wasn’t supposed to be quite this angsty but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ here we are. It’s probably never going to get this heavy again

Let me know if I forgot to tag anything or put anything in the warnings

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[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[nerdygaymormon]

Hiya! I wanted to start off by saying that your words and perspectives are unfathomably helpful and guiding when it comes to balancing church with identity.

For a tidbit of context, I am 21, haven’t gone on a mission due to personal issues concerning being LGBT (mainly concerned about falling for my companions and/or having my Spirit be seen as “tainted”) I’ve since been more casual with my spirituality and more specifically Church.

My bishop called me in today and expressed that a goal of his is to help me get ordained as an Elder and go through the temple and while I respect and understand that I can’t help feeling that it’s a lost cause in a way?

The main goals at this point are 1. Pray every day, 2. Read at least a bit of Scriptures, and 3. Smile more (I have a deathly resting b**** face)

Do you think I’m being too harsh with myself or is there a touch of merit to my.. hesitation?

That’s high praise, thank you for such a generous compliment. 

—————————

I like your 3 goals, those are doable. Although, smiling more just to smile, I think that might be the toughest one. 

Have you thought about what will be considered success? Is there a time-frame on these goals? Sometimes goals such as “pray every day” become all-or-nothing when you should get credit if you got 90% or even 50%, that’s a big increase from before and not a failure even if you missed some days. 

I think it’s helpful for goals to be for a limited time period. I read a bit in the scriptures for two weeks, take the victory. Okay, do I want the same goal for the next two weeks or do I want to up the challenge or change out scripture reading for something else. 

When these goals are finished, have you thought about what your next three goals will be? If you’re working towards an overall big goal, think about the steps involved to get there and they become a sequence of short-term goals to work on. If you don’t have a big goal but want to do better in these particular areas, that’s also fine.

—————————

Oh, to help with the goal to read the scriptures more, this might help. In June of 2019 I made a list of of scriptures important LGBTQ people, and my thoughts & understanding about them. 

You may have noticed me posting lately about different scripture passages, I’m working on making a new post with many more scriptures than the ones I included in the June 2019 post.

—————————

I think your hesitation has merit. These are both big commitments. I think your hesitation means you take this seriously. No one is perfect, so don’t let that sort of thinking trip you up. Mostly if you have avoided big sins or have repented for them, you likely qualify for these things the bishop wants for you.

—————————

What changes if you’re an Elder? It means you can participate more fully in your ward by serving as Aaronic priesthood quorum advisors, ward mission leader, ward clerk, and Sunday School leadership. It also means you can give the gift of the Holy Ghost, give people blessings when they’re sick or need comforting. 

If that sounds alright to you, then this is a goal to work towards. If you’d rather not bother, that’s also okay. There’s still many callings that are available if you want to be actively involved with your ward

—————————

To “go through the temple,” I’m sure your bishop means 2 ceremonies--Washing & Anointing and the Endowment. Those ceremonies come with covenants, so think about if those are the things you want to promise for life. I think for an LGBT person, the biggie is the promise to live the Law of Chastity. Here’s how the temple defines it: no sexual relations except with those to whom they are legally and lawfully wedded according to His law.

“according to His law” was recently added and is code for gay marriages don’t count. If you haven’t yet determined that’s how you want to live your life, I suggest waiting. 

If you’re out to your bishop, I think you could easily explain you’re not ready yet to covenant to live without marriage or sex. Would he make that promise? 

If you’re not out, then don’t need to tell him your specific concern.

—————————

You could offer to split these up and work toward the Melchizedek priesthood (if you want to).

You could talk to your bishop about the recommend questions. Question #7 can be a doozy -- Do you support or promote any teachings, practices, or doctrine contrary to those of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? You could ask your bishop if you support gay marriage and full equality for LGBT people, is this a problem? . 

However, if you want to continue to do baptisms at the temple, maybe bringing up possible problems with the recommend questions isn’t the route to take. 

—————————

You get to engage as much or as little as you want with the Church. If you think working towards your bishop’s goals align with what you want, great. If not, it’s your life, you get to choose. If you don’t do it now, you can choose to do them later. You can be spiritual with or without the Melchizedek priesthood and the temple ceremonies. 

Since these are spiritual goals, pray. When you ask if you should work towards becoming an Elder, do you feel peace, content, settled, warm, calm, and things becoming clear in your mind? Or do you feel muddled, unsettled or unsure, or having trouble remaining focused on the idea? Those are ways the Spirit confirms or doesn’t confirm. 

[lethesomething]

Ghost of Tsushima and the Hands of Fate

I see we're still trying to prove that games are an art form by making everyone feel bad.

For the record, Ghost of Tsushima is one of my favourite games in a very long time. It is extremely pretty, the aesthetic and general … polish is *cheff's kiss*. You can pet foxes and backstab people. The fighting mechanic is decent and there are just So Many Hats.

But also, it has the kind of story that pulls you in to the point where you have to drop the controller to hide behind your fingers going 'ohgodno'.

It is an absolute bastard of a game, is what i'm saying.

So let's talk about that, and specifically about Straw Hat Ryuzo and how I feel bad for him.

I am, by the way, going to be talking about the narrative structure of a video game about medieval samurai, so expect like, a bunch of spoilers.

The narrative is one of the big draws in Ghost of Tsushima. Like yes, it's an open world rpg with fighting and flower picking and all the important stuff, and also yes, some of the bits are sloppily written (looking at you, specifically, 'Ending to Norio's Arc'), but the game definitely sets out to Tell a Story.

And because this is a Serious Game that openly bases itself on samurai movies like Kurosawa's, it is a Drama.

In many ways it is an utterly brutal Bildungsroman, a narrative in which a young man finds his identity.

I have joked with friends about the clear intent for this game to make Important Stories, in that it actually tries to tick all the boxes of hotbutton subjects: childhood trauma? Obviously. Gay relationships?  Yup. Survivor's guilt and PTSD? Oh yes. Domestic abuse? Several. Suggested pedophilia? Damn, even that.

The foxes are there to soothe the soul

It's interesting to note that from a writing point of view, this bildungsroman is even Very Classically Structured. It goes so far as to be a three acter, with a pretty standard build-up.

 Jin Sakai, traumatized man that he is, spends the first act slowly getting to grips with the bit where you don't fight an army by yourself by  just walking up to them and challenging them With Honour, like he has been taught his entire life. Instead of getting stabbed repeatedly in the chest and set on fire, he  discovers guerilla warfare and creates this persona of the Ghost, a literal vengeful spirit seeking justice for the island of Tsushima.

It gets him some big wins and in the second act he slowly embraces this identity until things get to a head where he clashes with his entire old life. The third act starts at the hero's lowest point and is utterly gut wrenching (i am Still Not Over the horse, game), forcing him to pull himself together for an ending that is, well…fitting for the narrative. It's an ending that is needed, but perhaps not what Jin deserves.

 But anyway, this is about Ryuzo, and how until that ending, I was very upset about his role.

You see, this story is told in part through the lives of Important Npc's, who contribute to Jin's journey of self-discovery. This is pretty obvious with someone like Yuna, who is the one to introduce him to the Stealth Life and who is a driving force behind the marketing of the Ghost.

Someone like Masako, meanwhile, portrays vengeance and self discipline, but Jin also kinda tries to make her fill the mother-shaped hole in his heart.

Lord Shimura, meanwhile, is an Obvious Father figure but also stands for Jin's past. He's rigid and ineffective, which pushes Jin to further look for alternatives.

Ishikawa, that other mentor figure, is more moderate and flexible, but he also represents a possible unwanted future. He literally warns Jin at one point not to become like him.

Norio, then, is as mentioned not the best written, but he too is a person that searches for his destiny and tries to become like his hero, while only barely holding on to his sanity. 

Kenji, I'm sorry, I love you but you're just comic relief, that's all you do. It's an imporant job in the story, because god does it need it, but you're not teaching Jin anything other than how to make different 'resigned sigh' noises.

So what about Ryuzo? From the very beginning, Ryuzo's story didn't really sit right with me. There's the obvious class issue: he's one of the few important npc's that are poor, and he's an Antagonist.

It has always rubbed me the wrong way that his original intentions were good, depending on how you read it. He's trying to feed his men. He essentially made the decision that this one man's life (even if it is an old friend) is worth the price for the lives of his band of ronin.

It's a lot more complex than that, of course. Ryuzo partly blames Jin for his predicament in life, and he also knows that samurai treat their soldiers as chattel, which the game goes out of its way to show you they DO.

  Essentially, he's a complicated character who makes bad decisions for arguably good reasons.

Ryuzo did everything he could to save the lives of the people he cared about. He went so far as to abandon his honor and his childhood friends, to try to make this happen.

Does that ring any bells?

It kinda clicked for me at the very end of the game.

Jin, being the protag in an assassin game, does a lot of killing. But some of these deaths are given more meaning than others. Some of them are there to make you feel like shit (the Horse Again, but you lose several friends along the way), others serve a more defining purpose.

You see, there's a fair amount of what i'd like to call 'intimate violence' in Ghost of Tsushima. It's an old trope. The 'if someone was gonna kill me, it had to be you' kinda scene that hails from a worldview in which some deaths are better than others, sure, but some deaths are better even than living. It's a worldview in which life itself is less valuable than your legacy. You die for your place in history. For your clan, for your family, for your honor.

Bushido is full of that sort of thing, so it makes sense that a game building on that worldview, would use the heck out of that trope.

  The first is Ryuzo's death. You fight him in a duel, in which he tries to plead for some resolution. You could let him go, come up with some story. But Ryuzo is a traitor, so Jin ultimately defeats him and sends him off in what would be a touching moment of bro friendship if it wasn't for the blood and my 21st century sensibilities.

You grant him a warrior's death, is what I'm saying.

  It happens again with Shimura. The game actually gives you a choice here, but if you go through with it, the scene almost perfectly mirrors Ryuzo's.

You fight in a duel, and Jin tries to get his uncle to just let him go, come to some kind of resolution. But Jin has been branded a traitor, and the only way for Shimura to restore his honour and clan, is to take his life;

This being a game in which you have the power of bamboo strikes and also save games behind you, Jin ultimately wins the duel, and has the option of granting Shimura a warrior's death.

It is utterly heart wrenching and that whole scene has no business being as pretty as it is. The swelling music? The fucking strings? The anguished yell?

Fuck.

  But anyway.

That's about where it clicked with me, that Jin never had a choice.

Ryuzo's whole role wasn't fair, but this is one of those stories where life itself is just not fair at all.

Both him and Shimura are there to show us Jin's path.

  What if, the game says, Jin had listened? What if he'd taken one of several offers the Khan made and surrendered?

What if he'd cooperated?

Well, we see in Graphic Detail what would happen. He would get pushed into doing horrific things. He gets manipulated, again and again, until there is no way out anymore. At some point it becomes clear to him that he's on the wrong side but whenever he tries to devise some plan to turn things around, things go Badly. He's firmly stuck in Khotun's web and the only way out is death.

But what if, the game says, Jin had stayed true to his honour? What if he had listened to his uncle, not defied him, if he had dropped the Ghost before it was too late?  If he'd gone full bushido and repented for the shogun and done all the groveling and the proper stuff.

Samuraihood is just another straightjacket, says Shimura's fate. The tenets are so rigorous you would take your loved ones life, while fucking bawling your eyes out. Shimura knows damn well it's unfair but he also has no way to leave this path. It's a ride he cannot, and will not, get off alive.

  Jin never had a choice.

There was only ever one way for him to go.

Like let's be real: pretty much everyone in this story was dealt a bad hand. It's a narrative about resilience in the face of utter horror, of reinventing yourself and giving up entire structures of faith. People like Masako, Yuna, Norio are finding peace in dealing with huge levels of trauma and regret.

The goal isn't to start a family and live happily ever after, it's to Survive.

Submitting to the mongols would have killed Jin's spirit. Standing tall and rigid as he was taught to do would have, ultimately, killed him as well.

  "I've given up everything to save these people", he says near the end. "And I would do it again."

That's someone who has no regrets.

Jin never could have taken another path and he knows it.

And this is why Ryuzo needed a fate as shitty as his. He fell, so Jin could walk.

I'm sorry, it's still not fair.

This game needs some comfort fic.

[raz-b-rose]

There's nothing about transgender people in the bible and the thing that seems to be anti gay was actually referencing pedophilia. There's some really great websites explaining this, definitely look into it

Ok so I’m assuming you’re talking about this post. So thats what I’ll base most of my response off of. 

1. You offered no sources for me to cross reference

2. You didn't reference what verse you are talking about, if any, so I can look into it myself. 

Just because the bible doesn't directly use the English terms “transgender” doesn't make it any less of a sin discussed in the bible. Also remember it is difficult to translate the bible into English perfectly because of how the original Hebrew and Greek was spoken and written culturally at the time. It is always important to compare to the original scripture, and culture, to have an accurate read. 

However, the issue you are presenting to me, God is very clear and deliberate in his design. Not just of us as people but as how he designed each gender uniquely to function within the different relationships created through those bonds. Everything humans are and do is a reflection in some way of Gods design (Genesis 1:27) and how sin has corrupted the world. 

“Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.”  Genesis 2:7

It is no coincidence that God actively created mankind. He spoke everything else into existence except for us. He formed us with his own hands and so intimately breathed life into Adam. (It is also not a coincidence that paramedics can revive someone via CPR. Again an image of Life given to us via God) 

“The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” Job 33:4 

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.”  Psalm 139:13

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.”  Isaiah 64:8 

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you;”  Jeremiah 1:5 a

Consecrated:  having been made or declared sacred;  declared to be or represent the body and blood of Christ

After Jesus’ sacrifice for our souls, the veil in Gods temple that was used to resemble our separation from him due to our sins was torn in two. (Matthew 27:51, Mark 15:38, Luke 23:45, Hebrews 10:19-22)  After that our bodies became living temples for God. (1 Corinthians 3:16-17, 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, also keep in mind the commands in these verses are for believers, you can’t be expected to obey if you have not repented) The Holy Spirit will become a part of you at the moment of salvation and therefore God is always with you. 

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”  Psalm 139:14

“Everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.”  Isaiah 43:7

I myself, having been called by God to work in this ministry uniquely created for me, will work for His glory. I will speak truth, and plant seeds. God will reap what He sows, I simply obey and give God all the glorious control. 

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Revelation 4:11

God does not make mistakes. He made us as we are, nothing we feel changes the fact that he chose male or female for us. 

If God made mistakes then everything the bible says is a lie. To accuse God of such a thing, attack his character and Being in such a way, is purely insane. There is no hope for us if even a word of His is a lie. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1

The bible is God. It reflects who He is, to displays His plan and design for all to see. The bible is Jesus. It shows Gods detailed plan from the beginning to end, to offer us salvation for our own sin and the beautiful opportunity to choose Him. The word of God  is active in our hearts through the Holy Spirit. 

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” Hebrews 4:12

They are Three in One and have existed outside our constructs of time for all of eternity. 

If the bible is wrong about even one thing, then God would cease to exist. That is why God doesn't make mistakes, and bible holds no lies. It can hold mysteries that God does not full reveal to us (this is where acts of faith come in) but it does not lie. Because God can not lie. 

“But Raz, what about those cases of people being born with both genders” 

Sin has corrupted the world, outside of Gods perfect design is an imperfect image of what could have been, what will be once Jesus returns and God restores what has been broken. 

(Something we all desire with all out hearts because it is what we were created for. We were created to have perfect union with Christ. to be perfect in every sense. For there to be no death or evil. We desire perfection in our everyday lives because it is in our intended nature and our relationship with God is only a fraction of what will be possible eternity with Him.)

He has a plan for those people, one we may not full understand or know but it is there and the challenge is no different than those born with any other difficulties (homosexuality, mental illness, health issues, imperfect bodies, addiction, ect.) 

The point is, we are all born with sin. We are all challenged by different temptations (the desire to do something, especially something wrong or unwise.) God presents us with these challenges so the reward for refusing them is great. The feeling of saying no to them, and succeeding by Gods power is wonderfully, indescribable. Its both encouraging and humbling. I know I wont be perfect in this mortal life time, but each success brings me closer to God.

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” 2 Timothy 1:17

God strengthens us through our battles, and equips us for them through His word. At the end of the day. All of our battles are fought within our minds and our hearts. We are commanded to keep His word close with us (memorized) so we are ready for them all. 

Jesus’ time on earth was important. He lived a life as fully man remember. He Himself was tempted and overcame them all with scripture. (Matthew 4:1-11) His life is an example for us, and an encouragement for what can be accomplished through God. 

He was also fully God. He showcased Their inability to sin and Their perfection. Again. God is prefect. Lying is a sin. God can’t sin, because God is perfect. Therefore, the bible is fully true. 

I urge you to think on these truths, and know that this is love. Gods definition of love is always going to be different from the worlds definition because it tells us what we need, not what we want to hear. 

I love you, and will be praying for you.   

[starlight-and-seafire]

As a personal challenge to myself, and because I’m pretty fond of writing about these two dorks in love, I wanted to see if I could complete all the available Damerey Daily prompts.

And, as of a few hours ago, they are all complete (and one prompt got two fics because I had two different ideas, and one prompt I did twice because I forgot I did the first one. Oops.)

All together, it’s 19,719 words over 93 separate works. Thank you to everyone who read, hit that kudos button, and commented!

The full list with links to the drabbles or ficlets, all relatively short with a few exceptions, are available below!

(Anything with three *** at the end are rated M or E)

January

Unspin the laws

No, his smile isn’t much like a skeleton at all.

Um… I’m gonna need vodka in a water glass, with ice, and I’m gonna be ordering ‘water’ from you all night long so… one… ‘water,’ please.

I write mostly on hotel paper, knowing that my thoughts will never leave this room.

You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.

Say that you’ll hold me forever; say that the wind won’t change on us.

I guess I kind of hate most things. But I never really seemed to hate you. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you, is that cool?

What’s that? In the distance? Such a ghostly glow.

I know.

Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me: that’s all I ask of you.

“That’s right! It was a twist!” “No, it was a lie. A lie is not a twist.”

Sometimes a feeling is all we humans have to go on.

Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence?

There are so many lives I want to share with you. I will never be complete until… I do.

There will be boys who will tell you you’re beautiful, but only a few will see you.

Thinking that you can’t protect the ones you love, you have to hope they’re smart enough to save themselves.

Live with me and be my love.

Silence is a protective coating over pain.

He looked at you like you were the brightest planet in the galaxy.

And all the constellations shine down for us to see. Fic 1  / Fic 2

They are the hunters, we are the foxes (and we run). ***

It well may be that in a difficult hour… I might be driven to sell your love for peace… or trade the memory of this night for food… It may well be – I do not think I would.

And mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

As you wish.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.

“Sir? I’d like you to take the helm, please. I need this man to tear all my clothes off.” “Work, work, work!” ***

‘Cause we got the fire, and we’re burning one hell of a something.

Take this sinking boat and point it home.

Most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling, the rest of my whole life, the way I feel when I’m with you.

So this is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause.

I did not make it out unscathed! I am extremely scathed!

February

And this all started as your standard ‘who would survive the zombie apocalypse’ debate.

Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

We sow our truth, wait patiently.

Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong.

I know that a life without love is no life at all. ***

They’re fascinating. It’s like being inside a dream or something. There’s truth but no logic.

You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually checked out that snow globe museum that you recommended, and it was pretty awesome, I have to say. I mean, I did get in trouble for shaking one.

Is this horny crying?? ***

Do or do not, there is no try.

I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.

Just when I think I’m out, those cheeks pull me right back in. ***

When I was growing up I didn’t have a normal mom and dad or a regular family like everybody else, and I always knew that something was missing. But now I’m standing here today knowing that I have everything I’m ever going to need. You are my family.

Make the baby do the magic hand thing! C'mon, baby, do the magic hand thing!

I’ve been thinking. What if I decided to go flying around the galaxy with some scoundrel?

This bridge will only take you halfway there.

Great, I’d like your $8-est bottle of wine, please.

Just remember, every time you look up at the moon, I, too, will be looking at a moon. Not the same moon, obviously, That’s impossible.

I keep meeting all the right people–at all the wrong times.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you–especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.

Never repent of your own goodness, child. To stay true in the face of evil is a feat of great strength. Fic 1 / Fic 2

He saved me in every way that a person can be saved.

I lost so much of the world’s beauty, as if I were watching every shining gift on its branch with one eye. Because I was hungry. Because I was waiting to eat, a self crawling about the world in search of small things.

She had fallen in love with him twice. She loved him now with both loves, so overpowering it was almost unbearable.

Make ten men feel like a hundred.

the long syntax of las montañas that lined his village, the rhyme of sol with his soul—

“You’ve got this. You could debate the entire Senate in your sleep.” “I have!” “I know you have. We share a bed. It’s been hell.”

[Kylo Ren], Good to see you. But if you’re here, who’s guarding Hades?

I cannot make speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. ***

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

March

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

It’s not about who you know. Enlightenment comes from within. [Luke Skywalker] texted me that.

This is not yours to fix alone. You act like you’re all alone out there in the world, but you’re not. You’re not alone.

“But what if you met the right man, who worshipped and adored you? Who’d do anything for you? Who’d be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?” “I’d pity him.”

“You Rebel scum!!” [Han]:“…Scum?”

I bet I’ll never appear in a dream or a summer dress or next door. Displaying on one hand my prowess, the other my difficultness, I bet there will be just enough pain to keep me alive, long enough for the moon to be mine.

“Hate that nickname. Addicted to lemon bars. I’m in!”

Laugh it up, fuzzball.

I will love you until there is no till. / Till I die.

“The first time we met we hated each other.” “You didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met, you didn’t even remember me.” “I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends.” “We were friends for a long time.” “And then we weren’t.” “And then we fell in love.” “Three months later we got married.” “It only took three months.” “Twelve years and three months.”

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

If you live to be a hundred, I hope I live to be a hundred minus one day, so that I never have to live a day without you.

Just as the whale, stuck in its baleen grin, climbs up out of the depths.

This is my boyfriend [Poe], and this is [Poe’s] boyfriend [NAME]. [Poe] is gay but he’s straight for me and he’s gay for [NAME] and [NAME] really gay for [Poe]. And I [love/]hate [NAME].

“I’m still mad at you, but I need to prioritize my hate right now. It goes [him/them/]her, cooked green peppers, and then back to you.”

She’s our friend, and she’s crazy!

If you’re ever lucky enough to find true love, you fight for it every day

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.“

“She’s at that age where she only has one thing on her mind.” “Boys?” “Homicide.”

Does [he/]she know that you told me you’d hold me until you died–and you’re still alive?

There is nothing more terrifying than the absoluteness of one who believes he’s right.

Our fates are sealed. But I think we have one move left: We can try.

The world is too quiet without you nearby.

“Why has the car stopped?” “It’s frightened.”

I am totally butt crazy in love with [Name]!!!

Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So, today is my new favorite day.

What you did was impulsive, capricious and melodramatic, but it was also wrong.

But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all? ***

I, myself, am strange and unusual.

We have no plan. No one’s coming to save us. So… I’m going to do it.

[essaysfromthedeep]

Wash, rinse, repeat.

A little bit about being Southern, gay, and estranged.

CW: Suicide mention

Where I am now is exactly why I didn’t want to come out in the first place. I was terrified as a teenager that I would have to leave my family behind to be happy. It turned out to be true.

I figured out when I was 17 that I was attracted to girls. I had a boyfriend. It wasn’t going well. It wasn’t his fault, of course. I tried and tried to be okay with dating him, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt three months in that I didn’t feel the same way about him. I just didn’t know why for another few months. Or I didn’t want to admit why. I’m not sure the distinction matters at this point.

I remember which class I was sitting in the first time I wrote down “I think I like girls.” It was almost lunch time, I had no friends in there and no one was paying any attention to me. I put it in a journal I later burned. It was terrifying and imprinted itself on my memory. It was also a truth I couldn’t outrun any more.

I wasn’t expecting that coming out would be so similar to the stages of grief. I remember being so angry. I tried to kill myself. An expression of anger, fear, and disappointment.

I tried to kill myself on Valentine’s day because my boyfriend so desperately wanted to spend time with me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I knew exactly where I’d rather be and why. I couldn’t take it any more.

I took, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of pills, and drank, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of alcohol. And laid down to go to sleep. I started feeling very ill and couldn’t fall asleep. I remember praying. “Okay God, if I survive this, it means you want me to be gay. And if I don’t well, I guess I’ll find out if you’re going to send me to hell for it.”

I threw up all night. The next day I felt like death warmed over, but I was alive. Now came the hard part, figuring out how to be gay. It took me 6 more years to come out in any kind of public way. I told my closest friends in high school, but that didn’t go so well. I came out as bisexual. Which, I am not. But I couldn’t be a full on lesbian yet.I wasn’t ready to give up.

I was still desperately hoping some boy would come along and fix me. Someone, anyone! That they would love me enough somehow and, even though I would never feel the same way about them, that it would be enough. It didn’t work out.

My first few years of being out to myself were full of this kind of bargaining. “I’ll just be alone forever and that will be fine. I don’t need a relationship.” I had resolved to stay in the small, rural town I had grown up in and just be the person my family wanted me to be. But the idea of being forced to be alone became unbearable. I had finally let go of some of my self hatred and honestly I wanted so badly to hit on women. Being a lesbian sounded amazing, if I could just figure out how to do it!

In college it still took awhile for me to come out, again.

I was technically bisexual at that point, so the assumption was this was a phase. I was so tired of the implication that I’d just eventually like a dude! I knew I wouldn’t. I kept pretending. Latching on to dudes left and right because I assumed (rightly) that there was more to lose when I let everyone know there would be no more men for me.

I tried to date exactly one guy in college. Attempting to be the person he wanted me to be was like cutting off parts of myself. I kept trying to make myself into something that I wasn’t to make men happy, when I was already pretty sure that I wasn’t at all interested in men or making them happy. I ‘broke up’ with him after four days.

I wish I could say that was the end of my misadventures with men, but it wasn’t. It was the last time I tried to date one. Everything else was just drunken mistakes in an attempt to try to make myself into a straight girl.

I finally gave it all up when I was 23. I had been fighting and fighting and fighting for years. I slept with one woman and it’s honestly laughable to me at this point that I ever thought I was straight.

That’s the only reason I decided to come out to my family at all.

After stumbling upon the (finally sober) realization, that I was decidedly uninterested in men, I realized that I would need to tell my family.

I didn’t want to, but I’m a terrible liar. And honestly, I was so tired of being afraid of them. To be clear though, when I came out I was still terrified of them. My timing could have probably been better, but that’s not how life is.

I decided to come out the weekend I graduated from college. I was sure, certain, in fact, that it would be alright. We would be riding the high from my accomplishment (2 degrees!) and they would love me regardless. I would tell them and then we would have a nice Christmas.

I have not been to a Christmas with my family since then.

I graduated right about the same time as all that Duck Dynasty nonsense where that guy said really homophobic stuff in GQ back in 2013. Well, my sister spent the entire weekend talking about it. Agreeing with him. Being angry because the show got dropped. “Gay people need to learn their place.” I could still direct you to the booth we were sitting at in Steak’n’Shake when she said that. There are some things that just stick with you. All gay people were going to hell anyway, why should it matter that he said it! And how dare A&E cancel them!

I left after that. Saying I was tired and didn’t want to go back to the mall. I had some friends to hang out with. Whatever excuses I could come up with. Really I went to my apartment and talked with my girlfriend for hours and hours about what I should do. I didn’t feel safe going home with them at that point. My family isn’t known for solving these kind of disagreements peacefully. And my family disagreed with my existence. What’s a girl to do? I ran away with my girlfriend for Christmas.

And this is where the Southern part of my story starts rearing its ugly head. My girlfriends parents were not sure about hosting me. I should be at home with my family. I didn’t know how to tell them, I didn’t feel safe with my family.

There’s this stigma about not being in touch with your family. Like it’s some kind of easy choice to cut them off. I already knew what my family thought of me, why am I required to open myself up to further abuse? Why am I required to submit myself to them for in-person derangement.

After the fact, when we were discussing it my mother said to me “Were you scared I was going to shoot you?” And yes. I was. That’s the thing. I know how my mother reacts. I react in similar fashions sometimes. A blind rage. You can’t see anything but your anger. I felt I was taking my life in my hands if I went home and came out. And who would know if they killed me and buried me in the back yard? Who would care? There are lots of pig farms in Arkansas. There are lots of places to hide a body.

Perhaps this is horrifying for me to say, but it was a natural conclusion for me. There are many people where I’m from who would have understood why my family did it. A jury of their peers wouldn’t convict them.

After that we tried for a few years, but the problem is I wanted it all.

I can read my parents like a book. They were so uncomfortable in my presence.

Growing up my father only referred to gay men as faggots. I had only ever heard gay used as a slur until I was in high school at least. It definitely wasn’t truly de-stigmatized for me until I was in college.

And about three years after I came out to my parents, I was tired of being tolerated. I didn’t want them to think I was disgusting. I wanted them to be able to look at me. I wanted them to be able to say the word gay and it not be a slur. And so I confronted them about it.

And my mom told me that she can only accept my relationships that are ‘biblical.’ She will never accept my marriage. And so I decided that I wasn’t going to live my life in pieces, and I told her to contact me when she could accept me for everything that I am, and that includes being a lesbian.

And now I don’t know what to do.

My family always made it very clear that if you didn’t talk to them in life, you shouldn’t show up at their funerals. I don’t know whether to grieve now, later, or both. I assume both makes the most sense.

This is excruciating, but it’s still better than sitting across the table from my mother and seeing the disgust in her eyes. The fear. Knowing that she thinks there’s something wrong with me.

My mother’s love is conditional. She loves in the hope that it will make me change. That I will repent and be born again, again. That it can save me. That she can make me straight.

After being the ‘sinner’ that’s been ‘loved’ for so many years, I have to say it feels less like love and more like coercion.

I feel like I’ve chosen the lesser of two evils. Trying to maintain contact with my family is destabilizing. So I’ll live with the guilt and the shame of not talking to the people who conceived me. I’m not sure what I continue to owe them though.

My mother left me a voicemail last week. She claims she doesn’t know what she’s done to “upset me.” She thinks I’m just punishing her because I’m mad. I’m not mad. I’m painfully aware of how little there is left of me for her to love. I won’t change. Why do I have to expose myself to her obvious disdain? What obligations do I owe her?

She brought me into this world, but the truth is she doesn’t want me. She wants whatever version she keeps of me in her head.

It’s much harder to love people as they are. And what I am now is so far removed from what she wants, I just don’t see why I have to keep trying. She isn’t going to meet me halfway, and I have to give up everything I am.

There’s no voice I can turn my mother to that teachers her to love me. The people my mother respects hate me. They teach I’m the reason why Jesus will soon return and wipe people like me from the face of the Earth and put us in hell where we belong.

I’ve heard “Blood is thicker than water” so often that I can’t help but feel like the asshole in this situation. Oh, what I’m doing to my poor mother! Have we considered what she’s done to me?

I’ve always been aware of how tenuous my relationship with my parents was. I knew there were parts of me they could never love. I’ve been keeping secrets since I was a child, hoping that I could be good enough one day that they’d like every piece of me. I’d settle for like, I think.

I grieve for my childhood. I wonder, often, what it’s like for kids who’s parents love them unconditionally. It’s difficult knowing that is something I will never experience.

I can’t blame my mother for it. I don’t think it was something she was ever capable of. It’s about as useful as being mad at the rain. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

I always want these kinds of things to have a lesson. I would like to wrap it up nice and tidy, but this is all messy ends and unfinished work.

The anger has run out of me and all that was left to do was this. Hollow myself out so the pain and sadness can’t grow and fester until they try to kill me again. You face them, you name them, you find a way to get up the next morning. You do things that make you happy. You wait for them to make you happy again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

[inanna-arianna]

Another meta on Lan Xichen I did not want to write

Never once does the novel state that LXC was romantically even interested in JGY. And here is why the people who ship JGY and LXC are the most tedious, annoying and delusional part of not just MDZS but MXTX works in general.

It’s their insidious and tenacious twisting of information and pushing of their headcanons as legitimate narrative. The best example of this is the wiki page for MDZS outside of tumblr. Twitter is not as infested as tumblr is. Twitter favors NieLan pairing, it would seem. But those who ship NieLan do not try to pass their ship as canon nor do they shove it down everyone’s throats. Ship all you want, but once you start adding your headcanons to profile pages that are supposed to be an objective analysis of the character profiles and source materials, that is where you become a delusional menace.

Author even went as far as to state that the only gay couple in the novel is WangXian. Why would she be coy? Why would she hide? She has written novels with more than one homosexual couples before.

To the delusional shippers LXC has gone into seclusion to repent for the killing of JGY. They even twist his seclusion to such a level that they insidiously add LXC seclusion to be the same as his father’s. Even adding it to the list of clearly romantic acts of passion such as here:

this is sadly just one of many pages they infected

I don’t think people give LXC’s dimwitted naivety the full credit it deserves. I get it, people are fond of his character. He is one of my favorite characters also. But he is not benign.

His idiocy has come with a terrible price.

Siege of Burial mounds? Against a broken man and a group of farmers who were non-combative? The siege came to their doors. WWX had the right to raise the dead to defend them. Ultimately, had LXC been a competent clan leader and had his clan stood for what they say they do: righteousness and justice, WWX would not have been as desperate as to resort to such horrible cultivation practices. Had the Lan clan been what they pride themselves at being, they would have stood on Wei Wuxian’s side. And don’t try to oversimplify it. I’m not talking just about the siege. I’m talking about the build up to it as well. But Wei Wuxian stood alone. He stood alone at the path where they failed to assassinate him. He stood alone at Nevernight. He stood alone at the siege. But the snow white boots of the righteous Lan clan, stomped the skulls of old women and frail men.

Nie Mingjue’s death is on LXC’s hands more than JGY. You don’t blame a tiger for being a tiger. It does what it was made to do. Nie Mingjue trusted Lan Xichen. Painfully so. And it cost him his life. It was LXC constantly making excuses for JGY and shielding him from criticism and consequences that allowed him to get away with all the evil he has done for so, so very long. JGY carefully and meticulously build the image Lan Xichen had of him. I don’t deny that LXC was a victim of JGY. Perhaps the most tragic victim. But it does not absolve him of his crimes and playing a part. Weather out of his dimwitted naivety or moral cowardliness, does not matter. JGY needed Lan Xichen. He needed him to be his moral guarantor, his warranty, his shield and advocate. He used LXC’s impeccable reputation as a shield. He needed LXC to vouch for him.

That is why he never mistreated Lan Xichen.

But it’s not exactly true, right? I don’t doubt that JGY in this cruelty and arrogance and lust for power truly believed that he never mistreated LXC. But that is just not true. Weather the suffering of the person Lan Xichen loved most in the world, his own brother. Or by having LXC be his unwitting accomplice in his crimes. Nie Huaisang used LXC to deliver a final blow to JGY. But JGY was a villain. JGY’s fans want to condemn Nie Huaisang for that one act but gleefully ignore just how much damage JGY has done to LXC by using him to further his own ambitions. A man that now has to live with the consequences of his naivety and blindness.

Lan Xichen spending time in seclusion is coming to terms with what he has allowed to happen by continuously absolving JGY of his crimes and willfully turning a blind eye to his wrongdoings. Do people seriously believe that a man who is the head of a clan that prides itself on righteousness and intolerance of all evil is going into mourning for the death of a villain than rather to repent for being the guarantor that allowed the said villain to go unchallenged for so long? That his reputation was used as a cover that allowed a murderer to go unpunished.

Before those shippers try to point out how LXC was hiding JGY’s crimes and avoiding reveling them out of romantic interest: Don’t try it. LXC was naïve and non-confrontational on all fronts. He stood by and watched the mistreatment of Wen civilians, elderly and disabled and even children. His greatest love is his brother, yet despite being the head of the clan he stood by and watched his brother be viciously beaten and scared for life. Even refusing to know why his gentle and kind mother would murder someone is part of his refusal to even think and dwell on things that displease or hurt him. He is an incredibly passive and lethargic person.

Even his demeanor, gentle smile and voice are a shield against aggression. Author herself has stated that when drunk his voice becomes more booming, deeper. It’s a common tactic to defuse aggression. He puts on a submissive stance. Gentle voice and smile, non-aggressive and non-threatening gestures. But even he snaps from time to time. Like he did with WWX. But ultimately he is someone who avoids confrontation and pushes all that is too hurtful for him to think about out of his mind. Even if it is his own mother and her pitiful destiny, even if it is the brutal beating of his own bother. So no, he was not hiding JGY crimes out of love or romantic interest.

Do not forget, when confronted with the facts: he sided against JGY. Immediately. He sided with his brother. He sided with the man who is possibly the only man in the world that he hates (or as close to hate as LXC can muster). LWJ one mistake in his own eyes. He helped them gather evidence against JGY. He hid WWX in Cloud Recesses at great personal risk fully knowing that he was gathering evidence against JGY. He revoked JGY’s access to Cloud Recesses as soon as suspicions rose.

My point is: Ship whatever you want to ship. But don’t insert your headcanons or shipping fantasies into source material or profile pages that are supposed to be objective. Why have I decided to go off this time? Well, I have, so far got 4 people to look into the MDZS fandom and 3 of them were very much confused as to why they could not find a single reference to JGY and LXC “epic romance”. And asked me about it. Every time it was them reading wiki pages maliciously edited by JGY/LXC delusional shippers. I’m not going off at normal shippers. I understand the appeal. Many people like to ship the victim and his/her abuser. Just look at the people who ship Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang. Not that I would ever ship those. But I’m not here to ship-shame. Just for mercy’s sake stop shoving your ship down our throats or try to pass it off as canon. It’s not.

I hate writing metas on LXC. I love his character. I truly do. I relate to him more than many other MXTX characters. He is deeply flawed. A bit dimwitted, lethargic, non-confrontational, but he is well meaning, benevolent, and generous. Whenever I have to write about him I have to unpack things I don’t particularly enjoy pointing out. See, why his character appeals to me. I don’t like thinking about those things so I push them out of my mind. And so I apologies for grammatical errors, to begin with I was short on time. But once again I was irritated into writing a meta on this subject. So I combined many of my metas and rants into this mess.

[tptruepolitics]

LGBT Thoughts

Netflix has recently decided to push transgender ideologies in their Babysitters Club series – a show directed at adolescent girls. While Netflix – an independent company that should only have to answer to itself and its shareholders – is perfectly within their rights to air such shows, the fact remains that this is a deeply damaging topic to be showcasing to the most vulnerable and malleable among us. I think it’s time we finally address the enormous elephant in the room: the LGBT community. Here I will break down my thoughts on their rights, their roles, and their realities in our society.

For much of history, there have been documented incidences of same-sex encounters. Even the Bible makes reference to same-sex relations numerous times. The word sodomy is actually originated from one such text from Genesis in reference to the city of Sodom. Shakespeare is even rumored to have been gay by some scholars. However, for most of human existence, these individuals were forced to live in secret – outcasts of society, ostracized by their own people. To be perfectly fair, religious extremism has only contributed to the past 2-4 thousand years of ridicule. Before that, it was still frowned upon (at best) by most cultures simply because it went against the laws of nature. Male and female animals and even plant parts reproduce in union with one another. There are no same-sex reproductive organisms to my knowledge (correct me if I’m wrong). There are asexual organisms that reproduce by themselves, but certainly no major animal species that reproduce in any extraordinary way. There is a certain species of bird, I believe, that lives in Hawaii (once again, correct me if I’m wrong) that sometimes chooses a same-sex partner for life in the absence of a proper mate, but this is certainly an exception, not a rule. To add, they do not reproduce together.

But what does all this mean for humans? How should the “laws of nature” or even God’s laws apply to humans in this age of constant progressivism and an increasing detachment from religiosity that we call secularism? Well, thankfully, in our country and many around the world we are allowed the freedoms to live our lives as we see fit as long as they don’t infringe on the rights and liberties of others. So, if someone chooses to live outside the bounds of religious or natural laws, they certainly should be allowed to, as long as they are minding their own business. This concept of allowing homosexuality was highly contested up until the late 20th century, and is still somewhat contested today in 2020. The original founders felt that upholding moral and ethical truths in our school systems were an integral part of maintaining our precious union. As a matter of fact, the often-misrepresented “separation of church and state” clause did not mean that religion could not be learned about in schools, but that the federal government had no right to establish a State religion (capital S). Most of the founders actually encouraged religious teachings and values in schools. The more modern interpretations of the separation of church and state are due to an influx of not only secular ideologies, but also religious beliefs that were not prevalent during the time of our founding. While I am a firm believer that no harm can come from learning about religious values in schools, in this age of progressivism it is reasonable to note that certain contentious religious principles need not be forced upon others. This would be a clear infringement of the separation of church and state.

So, to get specific, let’s talk homosexuality. A common misconception in the eyes of secularists is that the Church (I’ll speak specifically about Catholicism here) preaches that homosexuality is a sin – that simply being gay is a sin against God. Well, this isn’t true. The Church expressly teaches that acting out homosexual fantasies is a sin. Let’s say, you are a man who is attracted to other men, but in your devotion to your religion, you find a woman whom you love, marry her, and live your life without having sex with another man. Is this man sinful, because he finds men attractive? Of course he is not! When you feel like strangling someone, but then you calm down and don’t, are you guilty of murder? No. So, simply being gay is not a sentence to Hell. As a matter of fact, even in the eyes of the Church, acting on your homosexual impulses isn’t a death sentence. There is reconciliation and forgiveness in the eyes of the Lord. If you confess your sin and repent for it, you are seen as forgiven. Not to mention, there are people who sin in every aspect of life: liars, swindlers, thieves, murderers – and I’m not even just talking about big sins. Small sins add up, and if you are not repentant of them, you are not any more likely to get to Heaven. However, I will paraphrase this, but I believe there is a Scripture saying that says you will be judged by your worst qualities. So, if you work hard your whole life to be a good Christian, and your only flaw is that you are a wonton whore, a light will be shown on this most vulnerable area.

You might be thinking to yourself, “but it’s a genetic mutation that causes some people to like members of the same sex. God would not have built natural urges in us if he didn’t want us to act on them.” Well, that’s just ridiculous. We have natural urges and desires that are built into us that we are meant to fight off all the time: anger, greed, and jealousy to name a few. Lust is just one more urge that is built into our nature, and it happens to come in all shapes and sizes. Our animalistic desire is not only to have as much sex as possible, but to have it with as many things as possible. Evidence of this is your dog, if you have one. Dogs will regularly hump humans due to a natural urge they have. Should the dog be doing this? Should humans all of a sudden be accepting of bestiality? Maybe don’t answer that one. Now that I’ve gotten a bit off topic, I’ll try to bring this all back. Yes, acting on your homosexual desires is a sin in many Christian churches. However, your homosexuality does nothing to harm me or my church, and as such, I believe firmly that if you wish you act on those temptations, you should be legally allowed to.

Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual peoples should not be deprived of their right to happiness, which can include uniting themselves in lawful union. That being said, I would like to advocate for an alteration in the name of the union. With the full rights, advantages and privileges of a married male and female couple, I would like to revoke the name “gay marriage” and return to the previously used “civil union” terminology. Marriage is a religious term that has been secularized over decades to include all unions whether inside or outside of a church between a man and a woman. I propose that all unions made outside of the boundaries of a religious ceremony be labeled civil unions, reserving the term marriage to those unions made within the boundaries of a religious ceremony. Civil unions will differ from Marriages in name only as to lay to rest the disagreements of many over this divisive issue. Thus, men and women, women and women, and men and men united solely by a judge will no longer be “married” but “united”. Those churches that allow gay marriages in their communities are by no means precluded from including them or precluded from calling them whatever they wish. However, legally, in the eyes of the state, a same-sex couple “married” in their churches will be viewed as “united” under the law. This is a semantic issue, as opposed to a legal issue. The semantics are clearly important on this issue and have been increasingly becoming more important as time goes on. I may not feel it is right to legally prevent people from enjoying their lives in whatever manners they please, but I do feel it is within my purview to define terms in order to ease tensions.

With regards to the transgender community, I have immense sympathy and respect for your feelings. Feeling like you don’t fit into the gender roles that your biology dictates can be frustrating, confusing and upsetting. I know. During my high school years, I often noted to myself that I had feminine characteristics that I didn’t understand. In some ways, I felt that I didn’t share many of the masculine interests of my friends. However, because I was surrounded by many fine men who were very accepting of my differences, I never felt that I didn’t belong with them. Here is the reality of the situation. Many people are not surrounded by these positive influences, and thereby feel that they need to re-identify themselves in order to fit into their social environments. This is not the case. Acceptance, toleration and understanding are the keys to solving this problem. Our attention with regard to the gender debate should be redirected towards Gender Stereotypes. At one point, I was under the impression that we were heading in the right direction. In a very enlightening high school class, I was challenged to think about what it means to be a man and what it means to be a woman. When I did this, I came up with many gender stereotypes that not only did not describe many of my peers, but also did not describe myself. Instead of concluding that I did not belong to my gender, however, I concluded that the stereotypes were the crux of the inconsistencies. At one point in history, gender roles were necessary for survival – the strong (men) went on the hunt, and the tender (women) cared for the children. They were important distinctions. This is not the case anymore! Over time, as technology and society developed to the point where strict gender roles were no longer necessary, women’s rights and roles in society began to change. This was a good thing and is a testament to how incredible our society has been for the less advantaged. These roles still play a part in our daily lives and still affect who we are, but they do not define us exclusively. Take Apples for example. The stereotype of an Apple is a red, juicy, sweet fruit. However, there are apples that are yellow, juicy and sweet. There are also apples that are green, juicy and tart. Is the yellow apple a mango now? Is the green apple a lime? No, their genetics limit them to the fruitful existence that they are. Nevertheless, biology dictates what type of fruit they are and not their characteristics; their characteristics don’t change the underlying biology.

To solve the issue of gender, some people on the progressive aisle have attempted to remove gender. I instead propose to remove the stereotypes/roles! This of course leads to inconsistencies in the Pride movement as a whole. For example, an exclusively lesbian woman might marry another woman who decides later that she is a man. Is this first woman heterosexual now, or should she be upset and betrayed and break off the marriage? Are you confused yet? This removal of gender is not only confusing to adults, but it’s confusing to children, and for them, it is dangerous. When you pose a child with the option to choose his/her gender identity, they will ask you what the differences are. Your response will undoubtedly be gender stereotypes. You are doing no one any favors by perpetuating these gender roles. The child will treat this as something fun, like a game. However, once you begin to treat it as something serious, the child will begin to treat it seriously. This is what major networks and schools and parents are beginning to do. Once you begin to treat your child as if they are not their biological sex, they will begin to accept that reality, more so to please you than anything else. This could have unimaginable consequences on their sense of self later in life, which could lead to self-esteem issues, learning disabilities, depression or worse. And making life-altering changes to your children i.e. long-term gender therapy, hormone treatments, or surgeries could permanently hurt them mentally and physically.

Conversely, if your little boy tells you one day that he is a girl, tell him, “No, you’re not a girl, you’re a boy. As a boy, you can be whoever you want to be, like whatever you want to like, and all of those characteristics will make you who you are.” If you tell your little boy that, there is an increased likelihood that he will have a more accepting view of others who are different from him, and will have a more positive outlook of himself. You can be a man who loves to sew, wear frilly clothing, and fixes his own car. You can be a woman who lifts weights, works on a construction site, and watches soap operas. They are not mutually exclusive. This also includes those members of our communities that wish to fully engage in their historical gendered roles. Women, who want nothing but to read, write, sew, be homemakers, and do the multitude of other activities that are considered feminine, should not be shamed into thinking that their choices are not valuable, are backwards, or are in anyway damaging to womanhood. Women who have no interest in science should not be shamed into believing that their lives are a waste and that they are giving in to the patriarchal oppression of women. This is not productive. Similarly, this standard applies to men, who should not be shamed into thinking that jobs that only use their hands are not worthy of respect because they do not require a college education. They should not be shamed into the common misconception that men are brutes, only caring about power and control. Men who are not interested in fashion design or cleaning are not uncreative or lazy. All humans have different interests and strengths.

The characteristics we have as human beings are largely taught to us. Generosity is taught, openness is taught. Negative things, as well: greed, sloth – they are learned. Selfishness is a learned characteristic. As a society, we have failed our younger generations. Parents, teachers, the government, and the media have all failed. To teach a child that they are so important that they have the ability to defy nature and choose their gender breeds self-centeredness and pride beyond compare. How selfish of us, how pompous! We are not that important. We are not able to create our own meaning. Our meaning is a gift bestowed upon us by a higher power. Who or what that higher power is, is for each and every man and woman to decide on their own, but a society based on the premise that they determine their own worth is doomed to fail because it is founded on the ideal that the self is the most important entity. This is not to contradict our founding principles concerning the individual. Those principles concern how government should act in relation to its people. The concept of self-importance, to which I’m referring, concerns how individuals view themselves and act in spite of the government.

 So, no, I don’t think that Netflix or schools should be teaching students, especially against the wills of their parents, that being a boy when you’re a girl or vice versa is acceptable. We should not be teaching children that biology can just be ignored. If we allowed this aspect of biology to be ignored, other aspects of biology may be ignored in the future (like age!). Nor do I think that sexual preference should be celebrated in public schools. This goes against the separation of church and state in a different manner, because teaching children that their religious observances of sin are incorrect is a direct interference with the practice of a religion. This would be a world where secularism becomes the state religion and that would be no more acceptable than some form of theism. Have no shame for who you are, but don’t put down other peoples’ views to make yourself feel better. Respect should be taught of all our children before they leave the home for school.

Here is my final message. Acceptance of self, love of one another, and understanding of our differences, should reign supreme.

[doodling-dood]

I haven’t written a fic or anything, but I have an idea dump and some old art lying around.  This is my most recent Angel Falls artwork.  (I’ll upload the rest when Tumblr stops being stupid.)

Click the Read More for the idea dump, AKA the cleaned-up and expanded version of a string of texts I sent to my girlfriend.  Spamming her is an integral part of my creative process.

Ford and Stan live at the Mystery shack together as loving brothers, and Stan runs the tourist trap to fund Ford’s research.  Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

Angel Dipper visits Gravity Falls to investigate a tree with magical properties.  He’s 200 feet in the air when he finds out that the tree can nullify/weaken his powers.  Stan finds him and Angel Mabel trying to get him untangled from the tree.

Stan doesn’t believe they’re actually angels, but Mabel talks him into helping them anyway.  He brings them to the Shack to patch up Dipper. They hit it off.  Dipper finds one of Ford’s journals and spends hours with it.  Mabel discovers the wonders of human knick-knacks.  Stan is so not attached.

The twins explain that they wanna stay in Gravity Falls but they’re not full-fledged angels yet so they would need a hideout or guardians or something.  Stan agrees to house his totally-human, not angels-in-disguise nephew and niece as long as they pull their weight. But if Ford comes back and says the twins are harpies after all, Stan will boot their butts halfway across the planet.

Ford comes back a few days later like “Wait Stan, what do you mean we have a nephew and niece? What angels?  Angels don’t exist—holy shit those are real wings.  Is this a new species?  No Stan, harpies have a different skeletal structure and OMG WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS ONE LIKES DDnD WHERE’S MY ILLEGAL 20-SIDED DIE”

Dipper is just happy to meet the author. He’s become a fanboy in less than a week. Of course the twins have become besties with Soos and Wendy by now too, so they’re all a big happy family.  Cue giant triangular wrench in the middle of everything.

Dipper does lots of expeditions and stuff, but he can’t join Ford out of town without Mabel.  (Humans can’t help if any angel-specific issues happen, so the twins are careful to stick together just in case.) Dip inevitably runs into Bill during a solo expedition around town. Dipper thinks Bill is human, albeit really weird. Bill is also pretty knowledgeable about lots of things, and Dip starts to like having him around while he explores.

He tries not to freak out when Bill calls him an angel, because that’s just a thing people say sometimes. (Stan averted that crisis already, thank you very much.) But whoops, turns out Bill means it literally. Dipper is like “omg how did you find out” and Bill says angels have visited Gravity Falls before, and Dipper isn’t very worldly yet so he stands out.

Bill introduces Dipper to all kinds of new stuff (pranking manotaurs, different foods, gay make-outs. The works.)  They get pretty close, even though Bill kinda avoids the Shack and Ford.

Then one day Dipper finds a brown feather on his wings. He freaks because he’s heard stories about angels falling and becoming demons with jet black wings, and he can’t figure out where he screwed up or what to tell Mabel. So he keeps it to himself and hopes it goes away.

Bill gets Dipper to confess what’s bothering him.  When Dipper shows him his wings, Bill gets oddly quiet, but humans get that way about angel wings so Dipper doesn’t question it.  Also Bill gives great wing rubs.  Dipper is very distracted.

Still, Dipper keeps finding brown feathers, and the best option is to go back to heaven and repent for whatever tainted him. He doesn’t want to leave though, and if he tells Mabel they need to go back then she’ll want to know why. Mabel and the Stans can tell he’s edgy but Dip brushes it off. Bill finds him by himself stressing out. Dip shows Bill his wings and they’re almost totally brown.

Bill is like “wow you progressed pretty fast” “Wtf you KNEW this would happen?”

And surprise, it’s a symptom of free thought. Dipper has done some critical thinking about the way heaven is run, and once an idea gets in your head you can’t un-think it.  Dipper freaks out because he can’t turn into a demon, demons are hideous and do unspeakable things and they EAT angels!

And Bill is all “Oh come on, do I look like I’m gonna take a bite out of you?” “You’re a demon?” “Did I not mention that?”

Dipper does the logical thing and runs away. He tries to fly back to heaven for an emergency visit, but he can’t get through the portal thing.  It’s like a glass ceiling.  He hits it and falls back into a bunch of trees.

He keeps trying until he’s a scruffy mess. He would do it again but Bill stops him before he seriously hurts himself.  Dipper doesn’t want anything to do with Bill, and if he doesn’t get back up there, he’s going to turn into a freaking monster, so he tries to fly away again.

Bill tells Dip he’s not gonna turn into a demon, but Dipper doesn’t believe him. So Bill brings out HIS wings and wraps them up in them before Dipper can get off the ground.  And dipper stops because wait, bill’s wings are entirely gold, not black.

They’re not much good for flying since they’re made out of metal. So yeah bill is grounded but it’s not about being tainted or whatever. He’s self-serving and materialistic, so his wings look like king midas got to them.

Dipper’s wings turn dark like soil, since he’s learning and growing from his experiences on earth. But Dipper can still fly, so he’s a fallen angel, not a demon. He still can’t go home though, and he wants to keep trying even though it won’t work, so Bill clips his wings to stop him from flying too high and hurting himself.

That’s as far as I got.  So, uh, enjoy the unresolved plot.

[removedreality]

Got this from Bitchy Pundit on FB:

I’m not religious myself but I’m posting this for any American Evangelicals happening about this page from pastor John Pavlovitz:

“Dear White Evangelicals,

I need to tell you something: People have had it with you.

They’re done.

They want nothing to do with you any longer, and here’s why:

They see your hypocrisy, your inconsistency, your incredibly selective mercy, and your thinly veiled supremacy.

For eight years they watched you relentlessly demonize a black President; a man faithfully married for 26 years; a doting father and husband without a hint of moral scandal or the slightest whiff of infidelity.

They watched you deny his personal faith convictions, argue his birthplace, and assail his character—all without cause or evidence. They saw you brandish Scriptures to malign him and use the laziest of racial stereotypes in criticizing him.

And through it all, White Evangelicals—you never once suggested that God placed him where he was,

you never publicly offered prayers for him and his family,

you never welcomed him to your Christian Universities,

you never gave him the benefit of the doubt in any instance,

you never spoke of offering him forgiveness or mercy,

your evangelists never publicly thanked God for his leadership,

your pastors never took to the pulpit to offer solidarity with him,

you never made any effort to affirm his humanity or show the love of Jesus to him in any quantifiable measure.

You violently opposed him at every single turn—without offering a single ounce of the grace you claim as the heart of your faith tradition. You jettisoned Jesus as you dispensed damnation on him.

And yet you give carte blanche to a white Republican man so riddled with depravity, so littered with extramarital affairs, so unapologetically vile, with such a vast resume of moral filth—that the mind boggles.

And the change in you is unmistakable. It has been an astonishing conversion to behold: a being born again.

With him, you suddenly find religion.

With him, you’re now willing to offer full absolution.

With him, all is forgiven without repentance or admission.

With him you’re suddenly able to see some invisible, deeply buried heart.

With him, sin has become unimportant, compassion no longer a requirement.

With him, you see only Providence.

And White Evangelicals, all those people who have had it with you—they see it all clearly.

They recognize the toxic source of your inconsistency.

They see that pigmentation and party are your sole deities.

They see that you aren’t interested in perpetuating the love of God or emulating the heart of Jesus.

They see that you aren’t burdened to love the least, or to be agents of compassion, or to care for your Muslim, gay, African, female, or poor neighbors as yourself.

They see that all you’re really interested in doing, is making a God in your own ivory image and demanding that the world bow down to it.

They recognize this all about white, Republican Jesus—not dark-skinned Jesus of Nazareth.

And I know you don’t realize it, but you’re digging your own grave in these days; the grave of your very faith tradition.

Your willingness to align yourself with cruelty is a costly marriage. Yes, you’ve gained a Supreme Court seat, a few months with the Presidency as a mouthpiece, and the cheap high of temporary power—but you’ve lost a whole lot more.

You’ve lost an audience with millions of wise, decent, good-hearted, faithful people with eyes to see this ugliness.

You’ve lost any moral high ground or spiritual authority with a generation.

You’ve lost any semblance of Christlikeness.

You’ve lost the plot.

And most of all you’ve lost your soul.

I know it’s likely you’ll dismiss these words. The fact that you’ve even made your bed with such malevolence, shows how far gone you are and how insulated you are from the reality in front of you.

But I had to at least try to reach you. It’s what Jesus would do.”

John Pavlovitz