#radical forgiveness

[rainintheevening]

Was thinking about how the Tusken Massacre is gonna be the hardest thing for Anakin to find some resolution with in my fic Broken Constellations, and I don't want to give too much away, but I think he'd try, you know. But in thinking about it, I just went ahead and let myself imagine what forgiveness could look like there, and it was a beautiful picture, kinda like a scene from another fic idea for a different fandom. And then I stopped, and I thought, But no one would believe that. They'd think it was too... radical.

I was actually in the washroom, and I burst out, out loud, "But that's the point! It has to be radical! Forgiveness has to be radical and crazy, that's the only way we can stop evil! That's the only way to stop the cycle of violence." And I was thinking about the interviews I watched this afternoon from the two sides of the Israel-Hamas conflict and how both sides say 'they will pay' 'they must pay' 'they deserve it', and I'm crying again. To forgive the unforgivable is radical, crazy.

But how can I write about anything less than that, because grace is TRUE. It's not a ridiculous fairytale, I search for it in stories, because I know it's real! How grace plays out in a story may vary, depending on worldbuilding and all, BUT IT IS REAL AND IT'S PART OF OUR WORLD. Because I'm Anakin, I've done terrible things, how many people have I wounded and hated and killed in my heart? I still hurt the people closest to me on a regular basis. I need that forgivness as badly as I need to offer it. AND THAT'S WHAT JESUS DID. He's Ethan, he's Dassah, He's the Child that stands between His killer and the just consequences and says 'No. Strike me instead. Kill me instead. Then the act is payed for, and the one who acted can go free.'

And I keep crying over this, because only radical forgiveness like that is gonna change anything.

But then Love spoke...

Because that's what He does, He calls us by our names, our real names, He wants to break our chains, He makes the way for us to be forgiven, He wants us to be family again! The way we were always meant to be! Us! Murderers, and liars, and thieves, and adulterers, we DON'T DESERVE IT, like Anakin we don't deserve redemption. But Someone loves us enough to offer it as a gift. There's freedom, if you only surrender to Him.

We're all Anakin, none of us are better than him. Only something radical can save us. Only something radical can change a tragedy.

That's what Jesus did. Something radical.

[vizthedatum]

One thing that might not be obvious to some (certainly not to me) is that when you heal from a place of lack, codependency, and low self-confidence… you will mess up a lot. Especially if you’re accustomed to being a high-masking person going through trauma cycles.

You may lash out because the pent up resentment and anger bubbles or explodes out of you.

You may feel a whole range of emotions within a couple of seconds.

You’ll wonder how you heal when you don’t know what to even do - you’ll keep getting more information that clarifies things but what steps do you even take?

Do you stay angry forever? What happens when you get your validation that… it was awful and it wasn’t right?

What happens when you confront your role in the trauma cycles that have happened to you?

What happens when you ruminate on what they’ve done… and what you’ve done? All the times you’ve self-abandoned yourself…

Or worse… what happens when you “move on” by suppressing yourself yet again because it gives you that false sense of safety (and unfortunately, stagnancy)?

—

Then, you’ll ask yourself:

How do I truly forgive them, forgive myself, and enforce my boundaries? How do I know myself so deeply that I know what those boundaries should be?

[femmesandhoney]

i'm not sure how many on radblr are aware of this, but there is an artist named Jingna Zhang who for the last year has been battling a very nasty court battle revolving copyright of her art after it was intellectually stolen by a man. Zhang is a photographer with a very beautiful and specific style (insta: zemotion), and a male painter completely stole an image of hers and entered his painting, a nearly identical replica, into a contest and won a cash prize from stealing her entire photo! Rightfully, Zhang was upset and got a lawyer after he did, and this went to court. Yesterday, it was announced she had won her lawsuit after the first time where she had to appeal the lower courts decision that it didn't, a huge win for copyright law in general, but it's soured by how much racism and misogyny Zhang has suffered over the year and it's now just as bad since she's won the lawsuit.

I just wanted to share her story and tell everyone to go show your support to her and other female artists. People, likely all men, were harassing her for a year and still to this day that the lawsuit was frivolous and she was "throwing a hissy fit" about him stealing her art, to the point they doxxed her. The cruel mix of racism and misogyny she dealt with is just vile, you can see some of the replies and threats shes received on her insta and twitter. This was the art in question on the left vs her photo on the right:

men are not creative, men steal every creative work under the sun from women and they act like chickens with their head cut off when women fight back. why won't the woman easily be pushed aside and let me steal what's not mine? why would this woman think she owns something i want myself? hope Jeff Dieschburg and his supporters rot and he becomes a penniless nobody for the rest of time and digs himself a shallow grave.

[queerly-autistic]

Screeching my way back onto tumblr to yell about the fact that Ed is clearly devastated by Izzy's death but he chooses queer joy and peace with the man he loves over running off to sea for vengeance and that's an im-fucking-portant sign of his healing and recovery.

When Zheng offers him revenge, he sort of half-heartedly agrees with 'yeah I suppose I wanna kill that guy', and that half-heartedness comes from the fact that he's not feeling it. He's feeling SAD, he's feeling GRIEF, but rather than quashing them under the boot of anger and violence, he's letting himself sit in those emotions and FEEL them, properly.

ED IS SAD AND HE'S SITTING WITH HIS SADNESS AND ALLOWING HIMSELF TO BE SAD AND THEN HE CHOOSES LOVE AND AN ATTEMPT AT SOME SORT OF PEACE RATHER THAN BLOODSHED AND VENGEANCE I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THAT IS.

[contemporaryelfinchild]

Its important to me that Trigun is, fundamentally, at it's heart, about restorative vs retributive justice.

[thepeacefulgarden]

[balkanradfem]

To the anon who sent me a message about how she hates her era of being libfem and can't forgive herself!

I think the only way we can go easy on ourselves is to see that it happened to all of us, all of us were affected and most of us were trying to be kind, understanding and reasonable in those times, and what was presented to us as 'kind and understanding' was saying 'not all m*n'.

And the thing is, we didn't have all the information back then. We didn't have the stats. The actual amount of violence and abuse m*n unleashed on women was carefully and meticulously hidden behind closed doors, endless victim blaming, endless rationalizations. And we were so young! We couldn't have looked at the situation and immediately go 'oh yes it's very clear males are dangerous, violent and destructive and we need to get away from them asap', we all had some connections to males in our lives, we all were at least somewhat manipulated into spending time with them and tolerated their stupidity, and we didn't know yet what was in front of us!

And it's not only the lack of information and real stats being deeply hidden from our eyes, it's the societal pressure. I remember whenever I expressed my opinions on blaming males for their actions, I would be persecuted for it immediately, I would be told I was 'not a real feminist', people in my friend circle would look at me as if I was a disgusting, dangerous and evil creature and they wanted to take distance from me, that's not something a woman can just ignore or feel okay about! We're all susceptible to self doubt when our surroundings tell us that we're wrong, even evil for thinking the way we do. Even when we're 100% right, peer pressure gets to us, gets us to doubt our own minds. We don't often have it in us to fight for our views if we have no support and everyone stands firmly against us.

I don't believe I would fully be able to be a radfem now if I didn't find a community of support and access to all of the information on tumblr, and in all of the feminist books I've been reading; it's the community and access to information that helped me stand firm on facts and reality.

And also there are women in the very late stages of their lives, who are still defending m*n, and in fact, most of women are doing it still, we are in the minority. A lot of information is still being withheld from women. And I don't judge or hate any of them, I know with proper access to resources, information and support, they would all figure it out.

And you did figure it out! There's no shame in getting more information on a situation and then changing your mind and standing firm with reality, it's what people are supposed to do. It's the only way to get closer to reality, to shape our worldview. I believe you're expecting the impossible from your younger self, none of us were able to figure it out immediately, or all on our own, so there's no fault if you couldn't either. And you don't have to be open about it if you don't feel comfortable, but a lot of people would be comforted to know that it's not only them, that it happened to others too, that being a libfem is the only way to eventually become a radfem.

Also I live in a country where feminism itself is still a bad word, and in most places there are not even libfems. Patriarchy is not being questioned at all, no positive statements are published about women. Women here would be estatic even to reach libfem level! And I know it's something we look down on because it's easily co-opted by other movements to promote practices harmful to women, but it is in its inception, a form of feminism, an attempt to fight for positive public opinion of women. It does not come from a place of harm, and most of harm inflicted by it is usually by another movements involvement and influence.

I know it might not affect you at all, but I can tell you that I would never hold you guilty for being a libfem at all. You've done nothing wrong. You've just lived in an era where it was the most feminist thing to do at the time, and you figured out a more effective way and followed that! I'd be proud of that! You couldn't have done anything better than that.

[dreamsaflame]

mana in nea's memories

(ch219)

(ch221 -- second pic is a bit of a cheat because that's walker mana, not campbell mana)

(bonus cross from ch234 because, again, he is always remembered by other people as smiling/laughing)

nea in mana's memories/dreams/hallucinations

(ch219)

(ch236)

(ch241)

(ch242)

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The more the time passes, the more convinced I am that a reading of Jane Eyre that omits the theme of mercy as key to the story is incomplete at best and bad at worst.

[nshtn]

@cenorii 's Resident Evil: Elegy of Free Radicals' Uroboros Wesker surrendering to Chris.

[vizthedatum]

One day, I'll be so healed that it won't even matter if someone is a jerk or whatever - I can coexist with them, I can show them compassion, and I can walk away to protect my own mental and physical health.

My goal is to feel my feelings so thoroughly that I can release my ego.

[finifugue]

Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.

[awaywardbeauty]

"I am not the first person you loved.

You are not the first person I looked at

with a mouthful of forevers. We

have both known loss like the sharp edges

of a knife. We have both lived with lips

more scar tissue than skin. Our love came

unannounced in the middle of the night.

Our love came when we’d given up

on asking love to come. I think

that has to be part

of its miracle.

This is how we heal.

I will kiss you like forgiveness. You

will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms

will bandage and we will press promises

between us like flowers in a book.

I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat

on your skin. I will write novels to the scar

of your nose. I will write a dictionary

of all the words I have used trying

to describe the way it feels to have finally,

finally found you.

And I will not be afraid

of your scars.

I know sometimes

it’s still hard to let me see you

in all your cracked perfection,

but please know:

whether it’s the days you burn

more brilliant than the sun

or the nights you collapse into my lap

your body broken into a thousand questions,

you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I will love you when you are a still day.

I will love you when you are a hurricane."

~Clementine von Radics

[lunar-years]

sorry but when you stop and think about it it's honestly pretty crazy that the writers sat down to plot out s3 and decided to go with "well first we'll have Jamie confess to Roy that his dad made him lose his virginity in the red light district when he was a 14, thereby adding a multitude of complicated childhood-sexual-abuse-by-proxy layers onto the already established canon that his father is a physically and emotionally abusive sack of shit. THEN later on we will have Jamie mentally doom spiral at the sheer prospect of being in the same stadium as him, only to, in the same episode, go ahead and decide to forgive him! strictly for purposes of his own healing and happiness, of course. And finally we will show Jamie reaching out to his dad to see how he's doing. it sure has been a while! :) oh and by the way, his dad just so happens to be in rehab already, currently working on himself and cheering Jamie on. Isn't that great? I'm sure the audience will love it, what could possibly not add up about this? :) :)"

and by crazy I do indeed mean bad.

[darthteeth]

what I'm listening to 🎧😔❤️‍🔥🥀🕳️🚶

[sailforvalinor]

Atton, to Meetra: “Listen, I’m only hanging around until your luck gets a bit better, I have zero interest in this quest of yours, I hate Jedi. The moment this gets too risky, I’m out of here.”

Atton, to everyone else: “I would die for her. Have I mentioned that recently?”

Everyone else: “Yes.”