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bestworstcase · 1 year ago

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I’m curious about your honest thoughts on Oscar Pine and the position the narrative has set him in. [14 year old gets infected with an immortal parasite and he believes it’s going to eat him. Eat his brain, his personality, his free will. And Replace Him.] Your analysis of Salem and Oscar’s interaction in the whale was fascinating and I’m dying to know if you have further or more overarching analysis on Oscar. Kid can’t catch a break from the horrors but seems to be the turning point to reject the status quo and CHOOSE DIFFERENTLY re working with Salem against the gods. THE GAME WAS RIGGED FROM THE START, REJECT THE PREMISE

this posts about ruby as much as oscar but i here's the main screed from when the 'the little prince' allusion got confirmed. also i think a lot about the mirrored ways salem and ozma treat cinder and oscar a lot

like any of the mains it's helpful to examine his roles in the core allusions to get a sense for where rwby is going with him ->

he's the little prince (a story about a child's journey into adulthood wherein transcendence-through-death is used to symbolize the experience of growing up without losing yourself; rwby literalizes this theme as ascension in v9. ozpin is the pilot, who is spiritually dead and cynical until his relationship with the prince revitalizes him, and then he has to let the prince go)

he's jack pumpkinhead (tip's "son," who spends much of the story fretting about decay and his own mortality because his head, a pumpkin, is going to rot; notably for rwby's purposes, jack is not wrong to worry, but he's saved from this fate by canning his head to preserve it)

he (along with cinder) is symbolically if not literally one of rapunzel's twins—note the congruence here with the prince's relation to the pilot [surrogate father/son] and jack's relation to tippetarius [creator/creation]. thus his (and cinder's) role in the maiden-in-tower layer of the narrative is to bring ozlem back together, probably in vacuo if the desert/wasteland thing holds.

<- so a purely intertextual reading suggests pretty strongly that oscar is on a track to being liberated from ozma in the course of the ozlem reconciliation and probably facilitated by ruby on the grounds that she is 1. the protagonist, and 2. the snake.

also we are definitely supposed to understand the "merge" as something that really would destroy oscar if allowed to complete and the contingent of this fandom that keeps reassuring each other that it's Fine Actually are unserious and fooling themselves. the kid actively preferred to continue being tortured than risk accelerating this process by using magic to escape—it is not a coming-of-age metaphor, lmao.

moving away from the intertextual layer, and sort of in the vein of the second post i linked, on oscar's quasi-familial relationship with ozma, i think about this a lot:

esp in light of what i talked about in this post regarding when the ozlem daughters disappear from ozma's side of the story. ozma loses track of his girls as soon as he attacks salem, and the girls die—her "we finally had freedom"/"why do you keep. coming. back."—ozma tells oscar he's sorry for leaving and oscar retorts "i'm not upset that you left, i'm upset that you came back." the stuffed dog symbolizing the deaths of his daughters and the stuffed dog symbolizing the child he's erasing in service of the god for whom he sacrificed his family. there's… some interesting implications knotted around this being the imagery that accompanies ozma thinking the problem is that he left versus oscar wishing he hadn't come back.

(see also, the fanon presumption that salem is furious with ozma because he left her versus salem herself expressing her rage as "why do you keep coming back"—as always rwby is not subtle AND YET)

anyway. the point being that i think the narrative is quietly interrogating ozma's role and culpability in the deaths of his daughters through oscar, who is also a quasi-child of his that he is killing—and while the curse itself is not ozma's fault, his treatment of oscar and insistent resignation to the inevitability of oscar's death is within his power to change, and of course i think ozma's apostasy is a prerequisite for him to be freed from oscar and vice versa. and the insidious combination of the merge itself and ozma's constant "our souls are becoming one" reminders is wearing oscar down. so there's a lot to chew on.

my most controversial opinion about him is that he is in far more danger than cinder is, vis a vis their relationships with their respective sides of the divorce

his stuff with ironwood in V7 also plays against penny's stuff with winter in a fascinating way because in essence he and ironwood are having the same debate that penny is having with winter and in the end ironwood and winter turn in opposite directions; winter throws herself between cinder and penny+fria rather than try to take the winter maiden for herself while ironwood shoots oscar over a ledge rather than listen to oscar's pleas to back off from using the winter maiden to open the vault.

and then in V8 penny is drawn into being a repetition of ozma's original tragedy—the noble hero brought low by a virus and killed—in juxtaposition to oscar surviving by choosing to become more like ozpin (using magic to blow up the whale) but in a context where that sacrifice was perhaps unnecessary (salem chose to let them go). the penny grief arc is already leading toward empathy for salem (see: ozlem parallels with ruby all over V9) and i think oscar's and ozma's witnessing of that will be… interesting, because one of the obstacles to the ozlem reconciliation is that ozma really does not understand how deeply salem grieved for him the first time she lost him.

hrgddhk it's difficult to talk about solely oscar because he is a load-bearing pillar in the story and that means his character is interlocked very closely with a lot of other character arcs—maybe more so than any other main character tbh.

#if you have specific scenes of his you want my Thoughts on feel free to ask #bc i think abt him a lot #if you want my unorthodox ruby/oscar Thoughts you can ask for that too #(<- indifferent but it's doing work for ozlem reconciliation so i chew on it from time to time #also the shippers are hysterical)

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fivetwostexi · 4 months ago

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Qurbani Eid 2024: A Comprehensive Guide to Eid ul Adha Qurbani and Online Donations

Eid ul Adha, also known as the Feast of Sacrifice, is a significant Islamic holiday commemorating the Prophet Ibrahim's (Abraham) willingness to sacrifice his son, Ismail, in obedience to Allah's command. The holiday is marked by the ritual of Qurbani, donation online. where Muslims sacrifice an animal, such as a camel, cow, goat, or sheep, as a symbol of their devotion to God.

The Significance of Qurbani

Qurbani holds deep spiritual and social significance in Islam:

Obedience to Allah: It is a tangible expression of a Muslim's unwavering faith and willingness to submit to God's will.

Sunnah of the Prophet: The practice of Qurbani was established by the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), making it a sunnah (tradition) for Muslims to follow.

Sharing with the Needy: Qurbani meat is distributed among the poor and needy, fostering a sense of community and compassion.

Symbolism of Sacrifice: The sacrifice of an animal symbolizes the willingness of Muslims to give up something precious for the sake of Allah.

Eligibility for Qurbani

Not all Muslims are required to perform Qurbani. The following conditions generally apply:

Financial Ability: A Muslim must be financially capable of affording the sacrifice without compromising their basic needs or those of their dependents.

Puberty: Individuals must have reached the age of puberty to perform Qurbani.

Sound Mind: A person must be of sound mind and not under any legal restrictions that would prevent them from performing the sacrifice.

Types of Animals for Qurbani

The following animals are permissible for Qurbani:

Camel: This is the most preferred animal for Qurbani.

Cow: A cow can be shared by up to seven people.

Goat or Sheep: These animals can be sacrificed by a single individual.

Qurbani Donation Online: A Convenient and Charitable Option

In recent years, online Qurbani donations have become increasingly popular. This convenient method allows Muslims to contribute to the sacrifice without the need to purchase and slaughter an animal themselves. Online platforms partner with local organizations to ensure that the donations are used effectively to provide meat to those in need.

Benefits of Online Qurbani Donations:

Convenience: Donors can easily make their contributions from the comfort of their homes.

Transparency: Many online platforms provide detailed information about how donations are used and distributed.

Charitable Impact: Online donations often support charitable causes, such as feeding the hungry, providing medical care, and supporting education.

How to Donate Qurbani Online:

Choose a Reputable Platform: Select a trusted online platform that has a proven track record of delivering Qurbani services.

Select Your Qurbani: Choose the type of animal you want to donate (e.g., camel, cow, goat, or sheep).

Make a Payment: Complete the payment process using a secure online payment method.

Receive Confirmation: You will typically receive a confirmation email or message once your donation is processed.

Qurbani Eid 2024: A Time for Reflection and Generosity

Eid ul Adha is a time for Muslims to reflect on the sacrifices made by the Prophet Ibrahim and to express their gratitude to Allah. 1 By performing Qurbani, whether through traditional means or online donations, Muslims can contribute to a meaningful act of worship and compassion. 2 As the holiday approaches, it is an opportunity for individuals and communities to come together and share in the blessings of this sacred occasion.

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news4usonline · 5 months ago

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My Howard University experience was special

When I first attended Howard University, I was kind of a lost soul. Before enrolling at the historically black college, I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. I didn’t have a basic concept of what exactly I wanted to do with my life. But for some reason, leaving California and going away to Howard was always a dream for me, even as a teenager. Growing up, I would hear about some famous Black alum of Howard University doing something big in the world. They could have been actors, celebrities, or even a journalistic marvel. And so, I would tell myself that this would be the school of choice for me. That reality didn’t happen until I was in my 30s. By then I had a young son and had already sacrificed 10 years of service as a custodian at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center (now Los Angeles General Medical Center).

Howard Showtime Marching Band doing its thing during a performance. Photo courtesy of Howard University Going to Howard changed my life in a lot of ways. My trajectory in the education system was a high school dropout, going back and grabbing a G.E.D. certificate and then hooking up into the junior college world. I bounced around from Los Angeles City College to enrolling at Compton Community College before attending and graduating from Los Angeles Southwest College. And then it was all systems go to Howard University. It was myself, the $500 I had in my bank account, and my luggage. Of course, it was not as easy as it was typing these words. Life sometimes comes at you with curveballs and you’d better be ready to hit when it’s your turn to stand at home plate. The first day that I arrived at Howard, the school was in the middle of its winter break before the spring semester began. That was in 1994. It was cold. It was my first trip ever to Washington, D.C., and like a West Coast city boy, I was not well-prepared for the type of cold air that the East brokered. I thought my lungs were going to burst from the type of cole that would penetrate through all of your clothes. With all of that said God provided me with a couple of angels who guided me through the fundamentals of kindness and human decency as I fumbled about trying to find my dorm location. These two individuals, in my opinion, were the reflection of the spirit of Howard University. I befriended this young young lady during my plane ride from Detroit to Washington, D.C. and she was the most kindred of spirits.

Howard University redshirt sophomore Ja’Shawn Scroggins (Las Vegas) was selected BOXTOROW HBCU National Player of the Week after his incredible performance in the 32-31 come-from-behind victory over Mercyhurst Saturday (Sept. 7) at Greene Stadium. (Photo Credit – David Sierra) As we chatted, the subject of Howard University came up. She was already a student at the school. I informed her that this would be my first time attending. As we talked, my excitement about attending Howard University was sky-high. Our plane landed at BWI Airport in Baltimore, Maryland, some 40 miles from Washington, D.C. With it being in the middle of the night, this young lady and her dad offered me, a stranger, a ride to my dorm. It was a tremendous blessing. To me, the gesture of kindness was also a display of the greater Howard community, which is giving. From the first day I stepped foot on the campus to the day I graduated, I learned that the spirit of giving is part of the Howard way. I realized that the folks at Howard, from students to the administration to the community, were going to have your back. I was immensely blessed by the love and warmth shown to me at Howard. I was not a celebrity. I was not a big-time athlete. I was among thousands of students studying and trying to find my lot in life like everyone else. Yet the school, the people inside the administration, the community and the students, all rallied around each other. Being at Howard, there was always a sense of if one of us was struggling, whether trying to figure out what the heck statistics was or trying to pull through family drama, we were there for each other. Howard became my family. It had become home. One of the most beautiful things for me was being around so many like-minded individuals, the brilliant minds ready to stake their claim in the world. And the majority of them happen to be Black. When I attended Howard, I knew where I wanted to be. I knew what I wanted. I knew the school that would best pour into me what I had been seeking. And that was Howard University. That first night was a reflection of my experience at Howard. The crazy part of my interaction with this young lady is that I don’t know her name and I only would see her maybe a couple of other times during my time in Washington, D.C. The thing about Howard is that you encounter all these bridges (sometimes nameless) that help you get from one part of your journey to the next. I may not know that young woman’s name, but she truly was the first bridge I needed to cross over unto my pathway at Howard. My second bridge was Mr. Bryant. Mr. Bryant oversaw Carver Hall, a former all-male residence hall that has since been converted into an apartment complex.

The graduates celebrate during Howard University’s 150th Commencement Ceremony on Saturday, May 12, 2018, in Washington, D.C. Courtesy photo I was in a bad situation. It would be a week before the spring 1994 semester would begin. I believed my dorm room was ready on arrival. It turns out that it was not. I was instructed I could not bring my belongings to the dorm for housing because the paperwork had not been solidified. I could not move in until a few days before the semester started. Again, it was cold. Mr. Bryant seeing my plight and understanding my dilemma, showed me mercy and allowed me to stay in a vacated dorm room until everything was worked out with the school. That first night at Howard does not make up for the four years that I attended the university. It does not bring into account all those sleepless nights I had working at The Hilltop, the school’s newspaper. It does not speak for the dedicated and tight-knit group of bandmates I toiled along with at the School of C. (School of Communications). Homecoming was always off the charts. Walking across The Quad was always an experience. Being guided in your educational dreams by caring professors can not be understated. Soaking in the richness of Black culture, Black traditions, and Black legacy shaped and formed me both as an individual and a journalist. The pulse of the campus is the students. They make Howard University what it is. And if not for those two bridges I walked across on a very snowy, blistering cold night, I may have never been able to speak about my Howard University experience. Top Image Caption: Howard University student volunteer poses in front of College Hall South. Photo courtesy of Howard University Read the full article

#HowardUniversity

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alwahabfoundation · 8 months ago

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Qurbani 2024 with Al-Wahab Foundation: A Guide to Making a Difference

Introduction

Eid al-Adha, also known as the Festival of Sacrifice, is one of the most significant Islamic holidays, celebrated with great fervor by Muslims worldwide. Central to this celebration is the act of Qurbani, or Udhiyah, the ritual sacrifice of an animal in commemoration of Prophet Ibrahim's (Abraham) willingness to sacrifice his son Ismail (Ishmael) in obedience to Allah's command. Qurbani is not just a ritualistic practice; it is a profound expression of faith, gratitude, and community support.

In 2024, as we approach this sacred period, the Al-Wahab Foundation stands ready to assist Muslims in fulfilling their Qurbani obligations in a meaningful and impactful way. This blog will delve into the essence of Qurbani, the mission and services of the Al-Wahab Foundation, and how you can partake in Qurbani 2024 to spread blessings and joy to those in need.

Understanding Qurbani

The Significance of Qurbani

Qurbani is a symbolic act rooted in Islamic tradition and the story of Prophet Ibrahim. It signifies obedience to Allah, demonstrating a Muslim's readiness to give up something valuable in God's way. The act of Qurbani also reflects compassion and solidarity, as the meat from the sacrifice is distributed among family, friends, and the less fortunate, ensuring that no one is left hungry during this blessed period.

The Requirements and Eligibility for Qurbani

Muslims who have reached the age of maturity (puberty) and possess wealth beyond their basic needs are obligated to perform Qurbani. The animals eligible for sacrifice include sheep, goats, cows, and camels, each with specific age and health requirements. For instance, a sheep or goat should be at least one year old, while cows and camels must be at least two and five years old, respectively. The sacrificed animal must be healthy and free from any defects.

The Distribution of Qurbani Meat

The meat from the Qurbani sacrifice is traditionally divided into three parts: one-third for the family performing the sacrifice, one-third for relatives and friends, and one-third for the poor and needy. This distribution ensures that the act of Qurbani benefits the broader community, promoting a spirit of sharing and caring.

Al-Wahab Foundation: Empowering Communities Through Qurbani

About Al-Wahab Foundation

The Al-Wahab Foundation is a renowned charitable organization dedicated to supporting vulnerable communities across the globe. Their mission is to alleviate poverty, provide essential resources, and empower individuals through various humanitarian projects. The foundation's Qurbani program is a key component of their efforts, enabling Muslims to fulfill their religious duties while contributing to the welfare of those in need.

The Qurbani Program

Al-Wahab Foundation's Qurbani program is meticulously planned and executed to ensure the highest standards of transparency, efficiency, and impact. By partnering with local communities and organizations, the foundation ensures that the Qurbani process is carried out according to Islamic guidelines and that the meat reaches those who most need it.

Key Features of Al-Wahab Foundation's Qurbani Program

Transparency and Trust: Donors receive regular updates and reports on the progress of their Qurbani, including detailed information about the animals purchased, the slaughter process, and the distribution of meat.

Global Reach: The foundation conducts Qurbani in various countries, focusing on regions with high levels of poverty and food insecurity. This global reach ensures that your Qurbani benefits some of the world's most disadvantaged communities.

Local Partnerships: By working with local organizations and community leaders, Al-Wahab Foundation ensures that the Qurbani process is culturally appropriate and that the meat distribution is efficient and equitable.

Ethical Practices: The foundation adheres to strict ethical guidelines, ensuring that all animals are treated humanely and that the slaughter process is conducted in accordance with Islamic principles.

How to Participate in Qurbani 2024 with Al-Wahab Foundation

Step-by-Step Guide

Choose Your Qurbani Package: Al-Wahab Foundation offers various Qurbani packages to suit different budgets and preferences. These packages typically include options for sheep, goats, cows, and camels, with the cost varying depending on the type of animal and the region where the Qurbani will be performed.

Make Your Donation: Donations can be made online through the foundation's secure website. Simply select your preferred Qurbani package, enter your details, and make the payment using your chosen method.

Receive Confirmation: Upon completing your donation, you will receive a confirmation email with details about your Qurbani, including the type of animal and the region where it will be sacrificed.

Follow the Process: Al-Wahab Foundation keeps you informed throughout the Qurbani process. You will receive updates on the purchase of the animal, the slaughter, and the distribution of the meat.

Impact Report: After the Qurbani is completed, you will receive a detailed report highlighting the impact of your donation, including the number of beneficiaries and testimonials from those who received the meat.

Benefits of Participating in Qurbani with Al-Wahab Foundation

Fulfillment of Religious Obligation: By participating in the Qurbani program, you fulfill your religious duty in a manner that aligns with Islamic principles and values.

Supporting Vulnerable Communities: Your donation directly impacts the lives of impoverished individuals and families, providing them with essential nutrition and a sense of inclusion during the festive season.

Hassle-Free Process: Al-Wahab Foundation takes care of all the logistics, allowing you to perform Qurbani without any hassle or inconvenience.

Peace of Mind: The foundation's commitment to transparency and ethical practices ensures that your donation is used effectively and responsibly.

Stories of Impact: Testimonials from Beneficiaries

Bringing Joy to a Family in Somalia

In Somalia, where food insecurity is a daily reality for many, the Qurbani meat distributed by Al-Wahab Foundation brought immense relief to Fatima and her five children. "This Eid was different," Fatima shared. "For the first time in many months, we had enough meat to share and enjoy. My children were so happy. Thank you to everyone who made this possible."

Supporting Refugees in Syria

The ongoing conflict in Syria has left countless families displaced and struggling to survive. Al-Wahab Foundation's Qurbani program provided much-needed support to these families. Ahmad, a father of three, expressed his gratitude: "We lost everything in the war. Receiving the Qurbani meat reminded us that we are not alone, and there are people who care about us."

Feeding the Needy in Bangladesh

In Bangladesh, the Qurbani program reached remote villages where hunger is a persistent challenge. Rahima, a widow living in one of these villages, shared her experience: "I have no words to express my gratitude. The Qurbani meat was a blessing for my family. It gave us strength and hope."

The Broader Impact of Qurbani

Promoting Food Security

Qurbani not only fulfills a religious obligation but also plays a significant role in promoting food security. The meat distributed through the Qurbani program provides high-quality protein to families who might otherwise lack access to such nutrition. This contributes to better health outcomes and overall well-being.

Strengthening Community Bonds

The act of sharing Qurbani meat fosters a sense of community and solidarity. It bridges gaps between different socio-economic groups, bringing people together in the spirit of generosity and compassion. This strengthened social cohesion is vital for building resilient communities.

Empowering Local Economies

By sourcing animals locally and involving local butchers and suppliers, Al-Wahab Foundation's Qurbani program also supports local economies. This creates jobs and stimulates economic activity in regions where livelihoods are often precarious.

Conclusion

As we prepare for Eid al-Adha in 2024, the Al-Wahab Foundation invites you to join their Qurbani program and make a meaningful difference in the lives of those less fortunate. By participating in this program, you not only fulfill a significant religious duty but also contribute to alleviating hunger and spreading joy during this blessed period.

The process is simple, transparent, and impactful. Your contribution will reach some of the most vulnerable communities across the globe, ensuring that the spirit of Eid al-Adha is truly inclusive and compassionate.

Let us come together this Eid al-Adha, embrace the essence of Qurbani, and make a lasting impact with Al-Wahab Foundation. Your support can bring hope, joy, and sustenance to those in need, reflecting the true spirit of this sacred festival.

For more information and to participate in the Qurbani 2024 program, visit the Al-Wahab Foundation's website and make a difference today.

#donate qurbani #qurbani appeal #qurbani 2024

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psychomoxxie · 1 year ago

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Blue Screen Brain Machine

Sometimes I wonder what mysterious power I'm actually running on, when I manage to get though an entire day after yet another night of no sleep (two weeks of insomnia should have been my first clue that something was amiss in the ol' brainmeats department) -- pure spite, would be my best guess. Over the past couple days, I managed to get everyone cleaning and throwing things out. It's been a tornado of activity, in which I found out that the Paterfamilias has by actual count FIVE vacuum cleaners. Can you imagine anyone having five vacuum cleaners? ONE vacuum cleaner, sure. So, Kriss was madly vacuuming away in her area (she's in the living room temporarily -- just call this place Joe's Waystation for the Wayward Wastrels), when it suddenly BURST INTO FLAMES.

Naturally, it did.

Of course, Joe tried to salvage it once we managed to put out the flames. Kriss was ready to wring his neck, trying to convince him to just toss the thing, because of course there's no saving it. I told her to just leave him be, and let him tinker with his vacuum from Hell -- it was unplugged, no danger of it spontaneously combusting again, and he'd eventually arrive at the same conclusion -- no point in getting annoyed with him, it's his vacuum cleaner, and the man spent his life building things and taking them apart, after all. He'd figure out it needed to be sacrificed to the Cleaning Gods, eventually. Which he did. Meanwhile, she and I finished up our areas, and got ready for the day.

Yesterday, Clara brought herself, and her mad cleaning skills -- and my cats. I couldn’t wait. I missed them so much, and it's only been two days. It will really be home when they're here. I kept walking around, picturing them sleeping in this little corner here, perched on that bookshelf there...sunning themselves in the windowsills, enjoying the porch when it's warm out...

There's so much to do. I got a call from the Social Services agency that Martin the Art Therapist works for -- it seems he got me bumped to the head of the line, because the director called me straight away. She is going to have two case workers assigned to me, which is fantastic. Mental health and then SSRI assistance, I believe. It pays to be chummy with the right people in this business, on the other end of it, for all these years. If there's one good thing about having the Brain Cooties in this city, there are a ton of social services available, if you know where to look, are sober, and are willing to be responsible for your med compliancy. And if you know me, I've always been a big proponent of Better Living Through Chemistry. In the 90s, I studied for a degree in Abnormal Psych (which is what it was called at the time, relax) at Colombia and Loyola in Chicago, because I'd spent my pre-teen and teenage years caring for a schizophrenic great-aunt, and dealing with the whims of my diagnosed NPD mother, and figured I had an advantage over most students through the sheer insanity of my family dynamic. Eventually, after several years, I had to quit school to manage my son's care, who had a plethora of mental health and addiction issues -- then eventually took the job with Clara working directly with her mentally ill son.

What I hadn't counted on was having to deal with my own wonky brain chemistry, and emotional dyregulation. Part of the unspoken deal of having to manage everyone else's serious mental illness is that you can sort of forget your own brain cooties exist. It's been a long time since I've been in a really bad place, mentally.

Over the years, I've discovered the hard way that self-medicating the Brain Cooties is the road to misery -- both my own and everyone within striking distance -- and self-awareness paired with modern psychiatry is the road to freedom. At least, as close as people with mental illness can get to it.

Speaking of, as an example; I'm titrating my mood stabilizer/migraine medication, topiramate, up to 200mgs -- right now I'm at 100mgs, so the appetite (and disordered eating behaviors, along with it, HUZZAH) is starting to decrease, which means of course the migraines as well as general irritability are beginning to recede. One always indicates the other with this medication. Topiramate is one Helluva drug -- but worth it in so many ways. I was never meant to be off of it for so long, but when I lost my health care coverage, it was the first to go, because the out of pocket cost is so far beyond my reach it may as well be mined on Pluto. But, it seems to fit into some missing piece of my brain chemistry like a jigsaw puzzle, in weird, seemingly unrelated ways that just make my mind feel calmer. Less prone to flashes of rage.

The trouble is, it's never quite that simple when it comes to Brain Cooties. I was sending a couple voice DMs to people, because typing out shit is just too much trouble, while phone calls involving actual conversations are just too much of a commitment to the sort of immediate interaction I can't be bothered with, most of the time. Anyway, I played back a message to be sure I got all the information I wanted to convey, and imagine my absolute shock when I heard the playback, and my usually moderated, thoughtful, rather slow speech sounding as if it was being played back to me like a 33-speed record? I sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

This is what's known in the Brain Cootie world as "pressured speech", and it happens when someone is in a manic or hypomanic episode. I experience hypomania, from Schizoaffective Bipolar Type disorder. Hypomania is a milder type of mania, meaning it isn't as severe, and only lasts a few days, typically. Still, I've never heard myself before when in the throes of an episode, and the most disconcerting thing about it was that to me, I sounded absolutely normal in my own head.

If that doesn't tell you how distorted one's thinking can be while in the grips of one's mental illness, even to a mild degree, then I don't know what will; and my doctors all tell me that I am a remarkably self-aware patient. While my brain might be conjuring quacking noises from the 147 Lake Shore Drive Bus (also known affectionately as the LSD, how appropriate), I also know that it is impossible for the bus to be quacking like a duck, and that it is indeed just my brain playing tricks on me again. Some people aren't so fortunate -- some people take their delusions at face value, which makes their lives a living nightmare that I cannot even imagine trying to manage without medication.

But I digress. The worst part about the 33-speed record voice messages? Nobody said a thing. And I sent severalmessages to several people in which I was speaking so fast, I was barely intelligible — imagine one of those Telemundo! commercials, only in English. Instead, they just ignored my messages. When I realized what was going on, I covered my ass with a couple of people who mattered with either a version of the truth, or -- if I trusted them with it, the unvarnished version. So, don't rely on other people to clue you in. On that note, over all the years I've been dealing with Brain Cooties, only ONE PERSON has bothered to tell me when I have had obviously pressured speech. One. Which is just one of the many reasons why I generally find People as a whole to be useless.

It's up to us to get our own shit sorted out.

I feel like I should repeat that. If you have The Brain Cooties, it is up to you to be responsible for your OWN MENTAL HEALTH. That means seeking treatment, and being med compliant. Unless of course you are at the point where you need a caregiver, obviously. But we aren't talking about that.

Because my doctors and I have been doing this for awhile, I have a stash of a particular, non-scheduled medication I keep on-hand for when I need to bring my brain down, fast. So, I took that, and will take it for the next week until I'm sure my Brain Cootie Swarm have receded back down to manageable levels. Risperdone is a very powerful, very serious drug that I just refuse to take every day, so my psych team allows me to only take it when the Cooties hit the fan. Were I sicker, or less educated in psychiatry/less self-aware, this of course wouldn't be an option. And if I were to slip and show myself to be irresponsible, I'd end up in the looney bin and having to take it every day, whether I like it or not. So, I don't abuse my privilege. When I need the meds, I need the meds.

One of the few people I look up to in the world of Brain Cooties, Jared Poore (now sadly retired from social media, and I do hope he's OK), once said;

"Things like mental illness, crippling neuropathy, epilepsy, and frequent, blinding migraines can’t be dealt with by gentle hugs, prayer and pretty angels, or the fad diet of the week with a basket full of overpriced supplements. Like a lot of aspects of life where you have to make a decision between two options, your only choice is to figure out which one is going to suck less”

The reality is, a lot of these psych meds have side effects that truly suck. They can be gross, embarrassing, inconvenient, even funny, or just fucking weird. But I can guarantee you that 99.999999% of the time, it's far better than the alternative that your untreated brain is offering, if you let it go long enough when you are suffering from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or schizoaffective disorder. Don't think so? Then you obviously haven't hit Brain Cootie rock bottom, yet. You've never gotten sick enough where you've been held on a 5150 in a locked ward, surrounded by people who talk back to the voices in their heads, and finger-paint with their own shit. You've never gotten so sick, you've been homeless.

You've never become a danger to yourself or others.

I have a really hard time taking seriously people with mental or emotional disorders who refuse to get treatment, and scoff at medication. Who give up after trying one or two combinations of medications because "it didn't wooooorkk!!" Most people don't give it enough time, first of all. It takes at least a month for the brain to adjust to a new medication, and only then can you even start to see if it's going to work for you, or if it needs an adjustment, etc. I've been doing this my entire adult life, and I've had just as many bad experiences as good -- I've still not found an SSRI that doesn't make me feel like shit after a few months. But there are new breakthroughs all the time. New drugs. New therapies. And mental health does not thrive on anti-depressants alone.

Crazy bitches like me don't need to end up homeless, dead, or in prison. And neither do you. Because there's no real limit to where you might end up if you take care of yourself and get treatment. But the options if you let your mental illness go untreated? We already know where that leads.

So take your damn meds.

Oh, yeah -- and the next time you hear an otherwise normal-sounding woman suddenly speaking like a 33- record? FUCKING TELL THEM.

Because there but for the grace of god, my little kumquats...

If you enjoy my writing, please consider donating to my GoFundMe by following the link below -- I am taking the next year (which likely means two) as I wait for my disability to kick in to write a book on the unique culture, people, and places of Rogers Park, Chicago. I have my first two interview volunteers, as a matter of fact, which is so fantastic! Thank you so much for your support, to all who have donated thus far. I appreciate you so much. XO

#mental illness #cluster b #schizoaffective #take your meds

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bishopclimate · 2 years ago

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This Is The Reason Why All These Things Have Been Happening In Your Life ... Click To Find Out

Dear Child Of God, Did you know that someone has cloned your star and as we speak now they are living the life that you were meant to live ?? Do you think its a joke, You don't even know it there are deep secret in your life that only God can reveal through his prophet. Actual right you may not think that there are serious and dangerous issues going in your life, because you can't see them because what you have seems to be normal while under it is serious matters. I saw in my spirit that somebody has already copied your star. And this is the reason why you have not been experiencing breakthrough in your life because somebody else has been enjoying your favour; they have been enjoying your success; they have been enjoying your glory. I saw that somebody did a replica of your star and they put it upon themselves. And every favour that should have been coming to you has been going to them. Every favour, breakthrough, happiness, joy; it has been going to them and their family. That is the reason why you always get ashamed, crippled, disappointed, frustrated. You work so hard but at the end of the day somebody else is happy. But this Friday God is about to expose every conspiracy in your family. The Bible tells us that after the death of Saul and Jonathon, David looked for a member of Jonathon’s house that he could show kindness to. And he found Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathon, and the original heir to the throne. Mephibosheth was actually third in line to the throne while Saul and Jonathon were alive. But he was a cripple. Yet a time came when there was famine in the land of Israel and in order to heal the land, God told David that seven sons of Saul needed to be sacrificed. It’s here we find out there was actually another Mephibosheth, belonging to one of Saul’s concubines. Mephibosheth was third in line to the throne. But Saul had another wife, and she named her son the same name as the heir. She photocopied his star. And the day when she did that the original Mephibosheth became crippled. You see, when people copy your star, they cripple your destiny, they cripple your marriage, everything about your life, suddenly you become a cripple. This coming Friday, every photocopy of your star must die by fire. Whosoever has been matching you, trying to be like you, out of jealousy, they have to die by fire. There cannot be two of you. No one else is going to walk in your favour; no one else is going to walk in your breakthrough; no one else is going to walk in what God has called you to be. Only you will sit at the king’s table. Anyone existing in this world to replace you, I command them to die by fire This Friday during the Miracle Fire Service, every demonic photocopy of your star that has been stealing your glory is going to die by fire God is about to do something this friday I saw in my spirit that God is about to expose a deep conspiracy in your family that has been going on for generations that has been crippling people's destiny This Friday I have special word for you. And I need you to receive it personall if you are late this may affect the rest of your life and you may find yourself unable to fufill your destiny actually in the future you may find yourself in a painful situations that you can do nothing about because when you had time you never did anything. I need you to avoid such situation as your prophet I can only tell you the truth. I need you to act now so you can avoid where you will spend life being lame no matter what you are offered in life. So Mephibosheth dwelt in Jerusalem: for he did eat continually at the king's table; and was lame on both his feet. (2 Samuel 9:13) The last thing you want in life is to live youe life lame. Thats why you need to do something today. So follow the following instruction with delay. ..... Whosoever is aiming to replace you, to replace your business, to replace your relationship, replace your career, we command them to die by fire. Now Here's What I Need You To Do: 1. I need you write down all the areas of your life where you feel like people have tried to replace you or copy your star. You can also write down the names of people who you know have risen up against you. 2. I need you to build up a special altar to God according to the number 7. Actually what I feel in my spirit is for you to sow a seed according to your age + the number 7. This is to represent divine completion. Whosoever has copied your star, God will make a complete end to them in Jesus name. 3. I need you to join me this Friday at 7PM UK Time LIVE in London or Online via Youtube/Facebook CLICK HERE TO SUBMIT YOUR PRAYER AGREEMENT FORM CALL US 24/7 +44 207 738 3668 (UK) +1 347 708 1449 (USA) Remember you can give with your card through the phone it’s quicker and safer; the prayer warriors can assist you to write down your prayer request. Or you can ask them to write the prayer of agreement form on your behalf; just call any of the numbers on the Prayer Agreement Form. You can also bring it and put it in my hand for the sake of a special anointing. I would love to pray with you personally and release the power of God in your life. If you would like to see me personally please call our office appointment. But if you need a quick prayer then just pop in anytime, we are here to serve you. Every Sunday Morning at 9am - No Appointment needed. You can also sow straight into the Ministries account through online banking or by visiting your nearest LLOYDS BANK ACCOUNT NAME: Bishop Climate Ministries BANK : LLOYDS BANK SORT CODE: 30-91-91 ACCOUNT: 32472768 IBAN: GB24LOYD30919132472768 BIC: LOYDGB21456 OR YOU CAN SEND THROUGH MONEY GRAM TO: Climate Wiseman, 93 Camberwell Station Road, London, SE5 9JJ, UK REMEMBER THAT OUR PRAYER WARRIORS AND I WILL BE PRAYING FOR YOU RIGHT NOW. Yours In Prophecy, Prophet Climate Read the full article

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childrensbread · 2 years ago

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7 Keys to Spiritual Devotion: Lessons From Thyatria

To the Church in Thyatira

💜 “To the angel of the church in Thyatira write:

These are the words of the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze.

I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first.

Nevertheless, I have this against you: You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophet. By her teaching she misleads my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols.

I have given her time to repent of her immorality, but she is unwilling.

So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely, unless they repent of her ways.

I will strike her children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds.

Now I say to the rest of you in Thyatira, to you who do not hold to her teaching and have not learned Satan’s so-called deep secrets, ‘I will not impose any other burden on you, except to hold on to what you have until I come.’

To the one who is victorious and does my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations—that one ‘will rule them with an iron scepter and will dash them to pieces like pottery’—just as I have received authority from my Father.

I will also give that one the morning star.

Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

~Revelation 2:18-29 ✝️

Devotional

Research suggests habits account for around 40% of our daily behaviors. Habits are the engine-room for our lifestyles. Good habits help us. Bad habits hinder us.

Just as intentional rhythms and healthy disciplines deepen our human relationships, so it is with Jesus. The more you invest, the more you experience. Your devotion determines the depth of your intimacy.

If you want to grow closer to God today, Jesus' message to Thyatira is a helpful springboard. It highlights some spiritual habits worth contemplating.

In verse 19, Jesus gives the church a string of commendation: "I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first."

Within one sentence, Jesus praises five habitual characteristics of the believers in Thyatira: Their love, faith, service, perseverance and increased fruitfulness. Crucially, none of these things are "one-offs". They are virtues, formed through constant practice over time. It's why Jesus emphasizes them. Consistent lives of love, faith, service and perseverance honor God and reflect His nature. As Christians, we are all called to grow in these areas.

How, though, can we practically develop such habits?

Here's a starting point: Make them small. Habits are most easily formed when the task is split into manageable chunks and then repeated regularly.

Don't leave concepts like "faith" or "perseverance" as intimidating theological ideas. Break them down and make them real to you. Contemplate how to create little opportunities daily to practice them.

If you want to grow in love, for example, consider something small-scale you can do today. It could simply be saying "I love you" to someone. Or buying their lunch. Just start somewhere. Resolve to go again tomorrow. The more regularly you choose love, the more it will become your default. Love becomes a habit!

The same applies to faith, service and perseverance. Help someone for free, join a community initiative or pray briefly about whatever is frustrating you. Take one step forward.

Do you get the picture?

Becoming more Christ-like doesn't happen by accident. Of course the Holy Spirit helps us! We are nothing without the help of the Holy Spirit. And we still need to positively choose to grow in the virtues Jesus encourages. Habits are the vehicles through which spiritual growth happens. They are game-changers. So give habit-building a chance today. And don't panic if you mess up. Stick with it. Growth happens one step at a time.

Today's key to spiritual devotion, then, is this: Build good habits, centered around Jesus. Ask God for help. Then start small. What can you do today? 🙂🙏💜

Source: Glorify App

Image: Google

Photo Editor: ChildrensBread

My Glorify Referral Link: https://share.glorify-app.com/MRSPINO777 ✝️

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years ago

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White lies.

When - after Otis’ memorial/funeral, so we’re still in S02E03 Cherokee Rose. This chapter is maybe an hour after Yesterday was rough. Shane’s descent has begun picking up pace ever so slightly.

Relationships - #DarylDixonGetsAHug. We have our sibling relationship with Shane, our slow-burning-y’all-get-hitched-down-the-road Daryl x you building that good foundation, we got Papa Dale in the house, and we have our platonic Glenn x you. Rest assured, you tease him about Maggie.

Perspective - 2nd person

Pronouns - who?

Genre - trail mix

TWs - some language and stress

Plot points/references - eh, it’s been a long week, I’m tired y’all, just give this here a once-over and you should be good :P

You knew your brother didn’t want to. You’d told him, you told him he didn’t have to. “Shane, you can tell her later, with more privacy,” you’d whispered to him.

“It’s okay,” he’d stammered back under his breath.

So, he does this thing with his head when he is at a loss for words: looks up and down, but doesn’t look at anyone or anything in particular for more than a second. Gets jumpy, needs to move. His sentences aren’t always complete or ordered correctly. He’d fluff his hair, too, if he had any left to fluff.

And you’d never seen Shane struggle so much to speak as at that memorial service, not even those few months ago when he’d struggled to tell you how he found your older sister’s and her partner’s bodies dead after the world started unraveling.

The entire group, only minus T-Dog who was with Carl, had been staring at him in expectant silence after Patricia begged him through her tears to tell her what happened. She wanted to know if Otis’ death had meaning.

The unkind, overtired, and lacking-patience part of you couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t clear already that her husband, may he rest in paradise, had just devoted his last hours saving a child’s life.

“We were about done,” your brother strained to get out. “Almost outta ammo, we were down to pistols by then.” He made a strange attempt at a smile in an effort to make it more bearable. “I was limpin’, it was bad. Ankle all swollen up.”

And up until that point, you believed every word Shane said. You knew they were honest. But something about the way he was speaking...God forgive you, but it changed, okay?

You gazed up at him when you heard the difference. Red flag, red flag, red flag started flitting through your mind. You felt chilled. You felt sick. You felt scared.

Shane even looked different as he kept speaking, telling that little story of how Otis sacrificed himself.

Now, it’s not that—you don’t doubt Otis did so. What little interaction you had with him, and how his family so readily accepted what your brother told them, only lent credibility to his goodness and his selflessness.

But God forgive you, but almost every other word that came out of your brother’s mouth during that service you hated because you couldn’t believe them. It felt like a lie—no, you know it was because you know what Shane lying looks and sounds like. You’ve seen it.

But why would he have been lying is the question.

Exactly, he wouldn’t!

What kind of awful, selfish person are you for thinking such awful, selfish, ludicrous things at a time like that, huh?

Unless...okay, this is what must’ve happened: Shane told a better story than what actually happened for the benefit of Otis’ grieving widow, son, and friends.

Yeah. Shane had to do stuff like that before, he and Rick both in their line of work. Which must also be why Rick was frowning like that at him, too, during the service; Rick understood.

When somebody dies poorly, you don’t tell the family that. You tell the family white lies.

You say the person died comfortably, or at least quickly, and always with dignity. It’s simply what’s done. You stick as close to the truth as possible, like you knew Shane had at the beginning and the end of the story. But in the middle, one needs to smooth it over and sugarcoat the truth for the sake of the family, just like when you saw Shane spinning that yarn.

Yeah. That’s what happened. That’s why Shane lied, is all. He’s traumatized and laden with survivor’s guilt, it’s not that deep, he’s not maliciously hiding anything, you remind yourself. It was just a white lie.

And white lies are different, like how Rick told Carl that Sophia was ‘just fine.’ They’re the only kind of lie with which you’ll readily participate, but even then...

“Kiddo, everything okay?”

“Dale, hey, um, y-yeah, I’m peachy. Tired,” you brush off, pulling out your earbuds and putting on a cheerful face as you turn off the mp3 player. Thank you, Dale, for snapping me out of that thought-spiral. With a shrug, you repeat “Yesterday was rough.”

“I know that with your current crop of injuries—”

You snort at the phrasing of that.

He shakes his head and grins. “I know they won’t let you go on that pharmacy run with Glenn and the young lady.”

Grumbling slightly, you mention “And Daryl won’t let me go search by the creek with him.” Not after he found out about the stitches. So dumb...

When Rick heard that Margaret was going to the local drug store for a supply run, he’d offered to Hershel that Glenn and you were their ‘go-to-town experts.’ However, he was also very quick to correct himself about how you were in no shape to go at the moment.

Right, that reminds you: “Oh, and I need to finish that list, Glenn asked me to do him a list of supplies to look for. What meds or things have you been without, Mr. H?”

He considers for a moment. “Statins are generally good for people of my age, though I must say: physically, I feel much better than I did before civilization collapsed.” Somewhat teasing, he reminds you “But, perhaps some surgical tape so I can have my extra roll of electrical tape back.”

“Ah, I knew you’d remember what I couldn’t.” You’ll add that to the list. Statins and surgical tape. Magnesium, disinfectant, antibiotics, probiotics for T-Dog and Carl because they’re both on doxycycline and strong antibiotics like that mess up your gut, antivirals if they miraculously found any, allergy meds, pain management, triptans, gauze and bandages, a pulmonary expectorant, fiber supplements, activated charcoal, adrenaline/epinephrine pens, the usual things like sunblock and bug spray, period supplies (even though cycles have been all over the place), clean socks and undergarments, maybe some nicotine gum for Daryl...oh, of course, more batteries...calamine lotion...

“So, are you heading with your brother back to the highway?” you hear Dale ask you. You turn to look at him as he hints “Or are the doctor and he insisting that you stay put, I hope?”

Duly noted, Papa Dale. Still, you pause and try to avoid a concrete answer. Arm in a sling and stitches in your abdomen notwithstanding, you feel too uneasy to stay in one place. “Maybe, um, I might need to stay here to keep tabs on Carl. Teddy may go with him, I asked him if he would a little earlier.”

Then you realize it. “Never mind, maybe I should go with Shane, I don’t want to be the one to tell Carl that Sophia ain’t back yet. That little punk knows I’m bad at lying, and that I don’t like it, besides.” And you don’t want to leave Shane alone, but that’s neither here nor there. You sigh. “The little man’s gonna push the question about why he can’t see her yet and I can only tell white lies or avoid answerin’ for so long.”

“His parents will handle things,” he assures you. But there’s too long a moment of hesitation before he remembers, “If, if Sophia didn’t make her way back to the highway, or, or is found elsewhere.”

So Dale is on the other page now, too. It’s been almost 72 hours that she’s been missing, but everybody seems to have already...fuck it, whatever. They can think what they want.

Earlier, Shane even wanted to discuss what they’d do if they found her bitten.

Yeah, that topic gave you all points with the Greenes. Not. Ugh, the shame you felt at seeing Maggie’s and Hershel’s horrified look with each other as they shook their heads in disgust, along with Beth’s confused and disbelieving glance. Small favors Carol wasn’t in earshot.

But hey, at least Daryl is still hopeful and hell-bent on looking for her. He’s the most likely to track her down, anyway, so you’ll count that as a win.

“Well, I’m going to be keeping watch duty. Seems like my official post,” Dale continued as you two slowly headed to the RV.

“That reminds me, here.” You remove the watch he’d lent you and hand it over. “Thank you. It was a godsend.” How many times you’d checked Carl’s pulse and respiratory rate with it, you can’t count. “And I think I got all the, um, uh, blood off it,” you add under your breath. With an awkward chuckle, you then (morbidly) comment, “Thank goodness it’s splash-proof.”

Bless Dale’s heart, he barely widens his eyes, instead nodding thoughtfully. “I’m glad it was such a help.” A grin and a nod of his head toward the RV. “Sometimes, I feel like a rotisserie chicken when I’m on top of the darn thing, slowly roasting and sweating in the heat for hours on end.”

Your smile finally relaxes and becomes genuine. “I don’t envy you that.”

Well, until Dale frowns and worries “Kiddo, are you sure you feel alright?” and you throw back at him “I’m just tired!”

Oops.

Hand covering your face, you apologize “Oh Moses, that came out very, uh, snappy. I’m sorry.”

Still frowning, Dale quickly softens his expression. Then, delicate as always, suggests “Maybe staying here is best, in that case. Perhaps taking a rest? I don’t imagine you slept much last night or the night previous.” He gestures to the RV door.

Yes, dad. “Why are you so kind, Mr. Horvath?” you ask, slowly trudging up the stairs. “And so patient, like, how do you do that? Sometimes, I swear, I snap like I get commission for it.”

“Would you prefer the alternative?” he teases. “I can behave rudely.”

Annnd he’s made you smile again.“Hmph, well now you’re bein’ kinda sassy.”

“Come on, troublemaker, I’ll help you set up your tent. It’ll be a lot cooler than in here, come to think of it.”

“Did I tell you I loved you yet today, Dale?—Oh, wait up Daryl!” You hop down the RV steps (OW, what the fuck, why did you do that when you have stitches? You can be such an idiot, ouchhhh) and reach into your sling (hey, it makes a great pocket) to jog over and give him your green camo walkie.

He stares. “Was jumping off there the best idea, Y/N?”

“It was the very best,” you monotone. Shit, did that hurt. You hold up the walkie to him. “Please take this with you.”

He adjusts his grip on his crossbow. “Ain’t the batteries shot?”

“Beth gave—the teenage girl who lives here—gave us four AAs, enough for two of them.”

“Why bother?”

You rein in the urge to roll your eyes. “Your safety.” Your voice still betrays your mild irritation, however. You cannot help but adore that mangy hick now, but those rough edges of his don’t suddenly not scrape. “Plus, Carl is gonna ask to talk to Sophia with them. You havin’ the other makes an honest excuse why he can’t.”

“When’s he gonna be awake?”

“...He’s on pretty strong pain meds right now, he might could be sleeping most of the day, but...”

He takes the walkie from your hand and pockets it. “Let’s keep them off though, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, but worry, “What if you have an emergency?”

“I won’t.”

Dale’s coming down the stairs with your tent bag interrupts any would-be huffing from you. “You’re off, Daryl?”

Ah, it’d been too long since you’d heard that grunt/hum thing Daryl does in response to things.

Dale rubs the back of his neck as he steps down to the ground. “Alone?”

“Like I just told Rick, I’m better on my own. I’ll be back before dark,” is Daryl’s curt reply, and...no, it’s okay. You shouldn’t take that personally, why are you taking it personally? It’s Daryl, he’s crass.

Sure, he taught you to track and enlisted your help out there in times past, but for many things, they are infinitely easier when done solo. It’s not a big deal. You feeling slighted about him pointing that out is an overreaction, you’re just tired, and, and—ugh, now you’re welling up? Great.

“Well, be careful out there, son,” Dale bids him, eyeing you and your pretend yawn that will provide explanation for your wet eyes. He lifts the tent bag. “I’m gonna put this under that grove over there, looks like a nice spot.”

“Thank you, Dale, I’m right behind you.” As he walks away, you gesture to the yellow walkie you’re holding onto and tell Daryl “This’ll be on so you can reach us, if you stay within three miles. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“Rest up, just don’t—” He stops you from walking away. “Don’t mess yourself up anymore, okay?” He shrugs. “And, alone is easier, but I didn’t mean to...be a dick or nothin’.”

“I didn’t take it personally, man.”

He does his hum/grunt thing again.

“Okay, might could’ve taken it very personally,” you admit. “At least you’re always honest, I like that about you. Do you even tell white lies?” You join him in walking toward his bike.

“I don’t like lyin’, I guess. I don’t see the point. Well, I mean I see the point, but I don’t...whatever, what are ‘white’ lies, again?”

“When a person don’t—sorry—doesn’t tell the truth in order to give somebody comfort or to keep them from bein’ hurt. They’re supposed to only be told about littler things, but.”

He straddles the bike. “So, how you told me you didn’t take that thing I said personal.”

You snort, nodding your head. “I reckon that was a white lie, wasn’t it?”

“When we had that fight in the truck and pulled over, and you said it was because we almost hit a fox?”

“I’d forgotten all about that. I ain’t sure if that was outright or white to be honest.”

“And when the kid’s parent’s told him Sophia’s back, that was a white lie.”

“Y-yeah.” What Rick and Lori did for Carl. What Shane did for Patricia and Jimmy and the Greenes. Right? Just white lies. Nothing else.

There’s a pause, and you were about to wish him safe on his search again before heading to the area Dale is helping set the tent up.

But Daryl states simply that “Guess I’ll have to bring her on back, then. That way we won’t have to lie to the kid.” And it’s just so...it doesn’t seem like a put-on, is all you’re saying. Say what you want about him, but that man is always truthful in terms of his thoughts and intentions.

An overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him again hits you like a truck. “Careful there, Dary-bear, you’re fixing to be my favorite person.” Even with that nasty symbol on his brother’s bike. Oh, good idea, you’ll put spray paint on the supply run list. “Hey, and Beth—she’s the teenage g—”

“—‘The teenage girl,’ you told me.”

“Beth’s making Carl chocolate pudding. So,” you drawl, feeling lighter and hopeful again. “Let Soph know when you find her that homemade pudding is waitin’ for her. Maybe not as good as her mama’s, but...” You smile.

And miraculously, so is he. Sort of, anyway. “Pudding sounds damn good, actually.”

“Eh, maybe I’ll sneak you a cupful. Hey, Glenn’s off on a run soon, are there any supplies you can remember us needin’?”

“Could always use more smokes.”

NO. “Sorry, the pharmacy don’t sell those or alcohol.”

“Shit.”

Don’t lie to him, Y/N. “Sorry, I just made that up. They probably have some, I just don’t want you dying of cancer.”

He scoffs and mutters “That was another white lie, then?”

“Might could’ve been.” You shuffle your feet. “You must get annoyed when people worry about that habit?”

“Yeah, I ‘might could.’”

Your lips twist to one side. “Don’t poke fun at my double modals,” you chide, nudging him gently.

A natural lag in conversation seems to indicate it’s time to part ways. “Alright, man, don’t die, don’t get bit. We’ll see you two later.”

But again, he stops you gently with his hand, even though he’s already started his bike and pressed the kickstand up. “Make sure you rest up, for real. It’s just—you don’t need to be the only one babysittin’ your brother or the kid, okay?”

“Ain’t no shame in them needing help.”

“Ain’t no shame in you needing rest, neither. They ain’t gonna kick you out ’cause you got hurt and need to take it easy for a while.”

To which you cannot help but request “Daryl, may I hug you again?”

He blinks. “Now?”

“Yeah. Everybody is gonna be linin’ up to do it once you bring back our girl, might as well get me some hugs in ahead of the game.”

He doesn’t move off the bike. “You really think she’ll be found?”

“You don’t?” Brows lowering, you cross your arms by tucking your free arm around your sling.

“Nah, I know she is.”

“Well, good, so do I.”

He’s squinting at you…and keeps squinting at you. So, you frown and stare back.

“You ain’t lying.” A statement, not a question.

“No.”

“And not a white lie.”

You shake your head. “No.”

He continues to stare—then abruptly pushes the kickstand down, swoops his leg off his bike, makes the briefest of glances around, and before-you-know-it, you’re pulled in for a surprisingly solid hug. His hold is stiff, maybe, but genuine. Around your injured shoulder and side, his embrace is gentler, you notice.

The man smells like cigarettes, sweat, and gasoline. His skin is covered in grime and dried salt, his clothing filthy. And you find you don’t care a hoot.

When you sense his grip begin to loosen, you pull away at the same time he does. With a mildly awkward pat on your arm (he did that earlier, too, it’s kind of endearing), he avoids all eye contact and casually hops back on his bike. And just like that, he’s off.

From behind, you hear “Hey dude, you got that list?”

“Yeah, man, think I covered all bases. Oh, add ‘spray paint.’”

“Spray paint?”

“The motorcycle.” That ‘SS’ symbol will get gone, mark your words.

“Solid idea.” Glenn grabs the piece of paper, scans it, and goes “Guess I got my work cut out for me.”

“Lori helped. She’s better at rememberin’ what’s needed or nice to have,” you explain, walking back with him to the grove where Dale and the others are setting up camp.

“Lori mentioned some other stuff, I just gotta write them down.”

“Oh, what’d she forget?”

“Nothing!”

Okay...private then? “I put period supplies on that list, too, dork.”

He laughs uncomfortably and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something unsaid that isn’t just him being silly about menstruation. Glenn isn’t the type to get uncomfortable about that sort of thing, he had sisters. “Sucks you can’t come with us this time,” he then sighs.

“I do wanna spend more time with Maggie, she’s been nothing but kind so far. You’ve talked with her, right?”

“Yeah...she seems cool.”

“Dude, and she’s so pretty.”

“She is really, uh, I-I guess, um, yeah.” Ha, look at his face. Somebody’s blushing.

A week or so ago, you’d both chatted about having had crushes on each other (past tense) at one point or another during the time at the quarry, actually. He’s another person who’s honest to a fault, and you love that. You’re glad he’s your friend.

“Sounds like somebody’s nervous to spend time alone with pretty Margaret...”

“Ugh, and when she told me about the run, she said something about me knowing ‘how to get in and out quick’ and it didn’t even click that she was talking about..like, not that,” he groans.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, wince when your stitches tug, then make fun of him for being “Painfully embarrassing!”

He playfully moans back “Shut up,” and elbows you, immediately apologizing afterward when he thinks he’s somehow injured you further.

Waving his concern away, you start to sing-song “Glenn’s got a crush,” while trying to tone down your smirk to a minimum.

“Coming from the one hugging the redneck every time I turn around today,” he cracks up despite himself.

“Aw, Glenny boy’s jealous!” you snark back.

“I’m too cool to get jealous.”

“So cool, the coolest.”

“And I get to ride a horse today.”

“WHAT?”

Oh, has he got on a very satisfied smirk of his own right now.

“Everything okay, kids?” Dale calls over, currently assisting Carol with her setup.

“Y/N’s just jealous I get to ride a horse today.”

“Ah, I understand.”

Grin still on your face, Glenn says he’s got to go get a quick riding lesson before they go, and heads off to the stable. You walk over to Carol, giving her the walkie and let her know “Daryl’s got the green one. He’s keepin’ it off but will radio when he finds her or if he gets hurt.”

She bites her lip, but nods and tries to smile. You don’t know what else to do but give her a soft kiss on the forehead and turn back to your tent.

You notice a figure hobbling over, and look up to see your brother moving way faster than he ought.

“Where’d you pop out from, loser? And slow down, that ankle ain’t gonna heal up if you keep doing that.” Thank the Lord he changed out of Otis’ clothes. He looks miles better now. Still has that 1,000 yard stare, but at least he isn’t putting salt in the wound by wearing that poor soul’s overalls.

“I just grabbed this from the RV, and Lori, um, told me I can st—I-I’m about to head out, check the highway,” he spills out all at once.

You’ve got no idea what any of that means except the last part.

“Is everything comfortable between you and Lori? It’s seemed very strained,” you voice plainly.

“Psht, yeah, what d‘you mean?”

Lie. Another lie. And you don’t care if it was a white lie or otherwise, so you swallow your disappointment and unease and change the subject. “Is Teddy going with you to the highway?”

He looks confused and shakes his head. “Dog’s in no shape—hey, I can do it,” he insists as you bend to try and set up the tent poles into the grommets. He grabs the poles from you and roughly gets them into position.

“Shane. You’ve got a bum ankle. It’s smarter to go with somebody.”

“You’ve got a bum shoulder and stitches in your gut, so that person ain’t you.”

“They’re just below my ribs, it’s hardly my ‘gut,’” you mutter. “Take Andrea, then. Weren’t you just showin’ her how to do gun stuff?”

He makes no response to that, only directs, “Okay, just hold that with your foot and I’ll pop the other side into place.” Once he gets the last pole into position, the tent bends up from the middle. “Right, let’s drive the stakes in. I’ll poke ’em down, you stamp on them.”

“Copy that.”

Another minute and your little camo tent is all set up. Shane grabs your pillow and sleeping bag and tosses them inside unceremoniously. Then you grab his arm and drag him in, too.

“Scoot back. Lay down. Rest your ankle a second.”

“Y/N, I gotta head out,” he protests.

“And I said you gotta rest your ankle.” And you put both earbuds into his ears, then point to your sleeping bag and have him place his ankle onto it. “Rest and elevate for exactly 10 minutes.”

You click through until you’ve got the track he needs. Going to California wouldn’t solve anything, but it was his comfort song and could get him out of his head for a spell. “That’s exactly three replays. You mentioned the song was precisely 3 minutes and 33 seconds, right?”

He doesn’t reply. You can tell the song has started by the way his brows lift and his eyes shut. But before you leave, his eyes open and he takes out one of the earbuds, waving you over. “C’mon.”

“Not the boss of me,” you whisper, taking the earbud and slowly easing yourself down to the ground, hand over your stitches to provide some support He sticks his hand under your neck to help you down, grabs your pillow, and hands it to you. You then position the pillow so you two can share.

“You wanna talk?” you offer quietly. “I wanna listen.”

He pauses. Inhales. And for a moment, you think he’ll actually share with you. But he shakes his head and lays back again. You close your eyes and send up a prayer for some kind of help.

And the next thing you know, you’re waking up, the song is still replaying, and Shane isn’t in there.

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shallowseeker · 1 year ago

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To be clear on my stance. I do think and have always thought that CHUCK WON is a cool theory from a power-dynamics standpoint, and who doesn't like exploring cool themes?

"Even God's not God," Dean says somewhere in season 15. Can't remember where. God is just power and impunity wrapped up in a cute little package.

That doesn't mean that other more holistic interpretations aren't nice, though I would argue that "oneness" as a concept CAN devolve into something close to nihilism.

///

One of the things I really LIKE about power in SPN is we've been shown time and time again when it lives within a single entity, it goes rotten. Like, take Rowena for example. In The Rupture she takes in all that power. It's FOR GOOD, but it's still a lot of power.

And we see it's already going badly for her in Hell. The demons are in coup (ex: how the demons behave in the Anael and Ruby plot) and Zack-the-crossroads-demon did lip service to Rowena but DIRECTLY went against her orders in going after Sylvia Jones in Gimme Shelter. Power is always the same struggle. It burns you out in one way or another. At stake or from within.

Why would we think it should be different when the power is "give to a mother character"? Because mothers are "nurturing?" "Better?" Everything we know about humans and human aggression shows us differently, btw the way.

Kind of like how the movie Barbie showed us that Barbie herself is a fascist, tricking the men with their insecurities to not take a egalitarian vote but a TOTALITARIAN one, thus not changing the or balancing the paradigm but swinging in the opposite direction. Sometimes we fail to recognize the problem of power when it's in the hands of what we perceive to be "Good."

Pivot to Jack Kline. That's the whole thing with Castiel and Jack, that Castiel thinks Jack is Good and can be the God he could not be. This is exactly the mistake Chuck made with Lucifer BTW. That his best and brightest would resist the effects of the Mark. That Lucifer would be sacrificed and survive unscathed somehow.

In the Rowena episode, we saw Belphagor, a "SON" motif, taking in all those souls, and Cas immediately recognized the problem and moved to kill him. Souls into a craven son = bad, souls into Rowena the sacrificial mother = good? It's the good king (queen?) fallacy all over again. It's the whole problem with Sam's "There will be no new king of Hell," and instead seems okay with a queen.

Likewise, Jack as God will become Chuck again. Taking yourself out of the story isn't a solution. It's just hands-off and non-participation of life in order to avoid the results of your decisions or non-action.

The power is the problem. Power should belong to all, not one. And even then, it's messy, chaotic, fraught with mob rule and fear. "Out of chaos come [rules] like Naomi, Batholomew."

On the other hand, the notion of Oneness can devolve into nihilism (or mob rule/loss of identity) the same way exceptionalism/individualism can devolve into unthinking righteousness.

Updated this ask to add the GIFs.

One of the things I love pondering on the Chuck Won Theory is if this mutated Thing we're calling God is a Force or a Person?

What if that sniveling, crying mess left behind in the woods is just Chuck, and he's now like Nick, and he can't quite tell exactly who he is anymore. Was he God, or wasn't he? Where did that thing end and he begin?

CHUCK: This... This... This is why you're my favorites. You know, for the first time, I have no idea what happens next. Is this where you kill me? I mean, I could never think of an ending where I lose. But this, after everything that I've done to you... to die at the hands of Sam Winchester... Of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer... It's kind of glorious.

Maybe he has no idea because he's finally free of that Force. That's the whole point. It's GONE.

DEAN: Sorry, Chuck. CHUCK: What? What? DEAN: See, that's not who I am. That's not who we are. CHUCK: What kind of an ending is this? SAM: (to JACK) His power. You sure it won't come back? JACK: It's not his power anymore.

The unstoppable Force of the narrative, preset and predestined, lives in Jack now. Chuck just wanted to finally be free, and maybe he was content to die for that freedom at the hands of a worthy executioner. He's a showrunner turning in his work badge, now at the mercy of the network.

SAM: (to Chuck) Then I think it's the ending where you're just like us and like all the other humans you forgot about. DEAN: It's the ending where you grow old, you get sick, and you just die. SAM: And no one cares. And no one remembers you. You're just forgotten. CHUCK: Guys... Guys... wait. Sam, Dean and Jack get into the Impala and drive off. CHUCK: Guys... Guys! No, wait. G-Guys... Guys, wait! Guys, wait! Guys, wait! Wait, wait, wait! Please wait! Guys!

Maybe they're just punishing the shell that is Chuck, and here as he screams wait, it's not just the grief talking. But Chuck is realizing his own bereavement. He is become like Naomi-who-cried-Wolf. He made himself so untrustworthy that he can't even get through to the boys to sound the alarm.

He’s belatedly realizing that Jack is shackled and doomed to be overtaken by that overwhelming power, covered up and wallpapered, just as Chuck the man (Nephilim?) was. (Just as Castiel was, despite beginning with noble intentions.) Now Jack is an open, unshackled mark. As Amara had her mark of Darkness, now too Chuck has passed on His mark of Light to Jack.

(above is from 15x19; below is just ficletting)

I like to think that, after he left Sam & Dean, Jack-God went back to those woods. Then, he comes up chipperly to deliver the killing blow to Chuck, so that Chuck could never tell anyone the truth. And Chuck becomes like Metatron was to Amara, standing up defiantly to God for the first and only time.

JACK-GOD: Maybe Dean won't kill you, but I will. CHUCK SHURLEY: Spare them. JACK-GOD: Eh. Maybe one of them. Sam, I think. (Chuck looks on in horror) JACK-GOD: Hey, kid. You're the one who wrote it that way. Don't blame me. (Chuck can't speak; he's choking now as he lifts into the air) JACK-GOD: Shame about your body getting destroyed and all. I really, you know, liked living in it. At least this gift... (points at his face) ...is super cute. Maybe even a little cuter. But yeah. I can't risk anyone finding you after I (makes a throat motion and a CHHKK noise). You understand.

(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

#chuck won

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septembersghost · 3 years ago

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Nobody's perfect. Not even superheroes.

But God, I am so very, very tired of investing in major female characters in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, only to see them meet an ignominious end. Let's set aside the fact that it took 21 tries to even get a female-led film, 2019's Captain Marvel. There have always been interesting, bad-ass women in the MCU — they just keep being done dirty.

The men of the MCU routinely save the day, seemingly with nine lives to spare (not that I'm complaining about having more Tom Hiddleston in my life, but for the love of the Norse gods, how many times has Loki been brought back from the dead?). Meanwhile, the women of the MCU's greatest asset seems to be the most stereotypically feminine of traits: sacrifice.

Don't get me wrong, sacrifice is a heroic quality. It takes a special kind of person to lay down their life for the greater good. But it gets exhausting when that special kind of person seems to be mostly female (thank you for your service, though, Tony Stark and Vision).

First, there was Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), who, in the quest for the Infinity Stones, sacrifices herself for the Soul Stone, sparing Hawkeye's life. Her justification? Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) has a family who needs him. So what does that say about Black Widow's adoptive sister Yelena (Florence Pugh) or other close friends who make up her found family?

A lot has been written about that narrative choice, and it's arguably the most polarizing death in the MCU. Especially since it came after Natasha's character endured outright sexism for years, particularly in the Age of Ultron, where the script reduced her to her reproductive choices, having her call herself a "monster" because she can't have children. Despite all that, it might've been possible to take her death as a moment of valor that served the storytelling — if Marvel didn't keep recycling that motif to motivate its male characters.

Here lies Gamora (Zoe Saldana), Aunt May (Marisa Tomei), Ajak (Salma Hayek), Wanda/Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen), and the newest addition to the dead fierce ladies club, Dr. Jane Foster (Natalie Portman). And that's not even including the saintly mamas who have died to light a fire under their sons (hi, Thor and Shang-Chi). Or the varying degrees of lip service to female empowerment Marvel has come under fire for over the years.

Sure, a past version of Gamora may be alive in the multiverses, and not even Elizabeth Olsen knows if her character is permanently dead after the events of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. But I bet you can guess how she (maybe) died at the end: That's right, sacrificing herself for the greater good, even after being villainized for "breaking the rules," something her male counterparts do regularly. Sure, Wanda's rule-breaking might have cost many innocent lives, but it's not like she caused a universe-destroying Incursion (looking at you, Doctor Strange) or unleashed a wave of supervillains in a last-ditch effort to get into college (you too, Parker).

Even with all that, it was not until Thor: Love and Thunder that I finally reached my breaking point with Marvel's treatment of its female heroes' mortality. And I had such high hopes! Throughout the press tour, Natalie Portman made much of her return to the MCU being predicated on Jane finally having something interesting to do. The trailers showed Portman's Jane kitted out as a fully-fledged Lady Thor, complete with a winged helmet and wielding Mjölnir (did I maybe cheer more for this than even Steve Rogers proving his worthiness? Yes). What's more, here, she would not only become a hero in her own right, but she'd get to team up with another MCU favorite, Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson).

Imagine my irritation when the interesting thing they've finally given Jane to do is have cancer and die (yes, I know this is a storyline from the comics; it's still annoying). It's pretty evident from the earliest shots of her in the film that she's not long for this world. But it's a real pain in the Asgard that, like Natasha, Gamora, and Wanda before her, she only gets to step into the spotlight just as it's about to be extinguished. There are flickers of hope that becoming a Thor will strengthen and heal her. But for dudes, with great power comes great responsibility. For ladies, with great power comes an expiration date.

When Thor finally forces Jane to stop cavorting as a Thor and seek genuine treatment for her illness, he acknowledges he'll have to try to complete his mission alone. That is until Jane swoops in at the last minute to save the day (and his very well-toned butt), knowing full well the effort will kill her a lot sooner than if she waited in her hospital bed. Just like the women before her, she makes a choice — and that choice is to die for the sake of the world and the man she loves.

There is nothing wrong with this choice at face value. It doesn't make Jane (or Wanda, or Natasha...) weak or lesser than any of the male heroes of the MCU. Indeed, it's a death so noble it earns Jane a place in Valhalla. But it would be more emotionally satisfying if I hadn't seen it so many times before. And if it didn't feel like that, while the men of the MCU get to be arrogant, wholesome, angry, remorseful, and any number of complex things, women's clearest path to heroism seems to be death.

Sure, I want more female superheroes. More kick-ass ladies who I can dress up as for Halloween and cheer on. But not if their only purpose in the plot is virtual martyrdom. The MCU has taken great pains to make its heroes nuanced figures who grapple with the human cost of their adventures; it makes the case that there are many ways to be a hero. Unless, of course, you're a woman. (Florence Pugh, Hailee Steinfeld, Brie Larson, y'all might want to get a clause in your contracts, just saying).

Because women are expendable. We are living in a world where women are fighting for their lives and their rights daily, where misogyny is insidious, and women regularly fear violence from strangers and partners alike. It's easy to feel that the cost of our lives is cheap, that we mean more in death than we do in life. The MCU, intentionally or not, reiterates that narrative.

I don't want a fictional world of heroes where a woman's greatest superpower is death. It's a hill I'm willing to do anything but die on.

-We Need To Talk About Marvel’s Women Problem

#sorry for this being slightly off brand but i am TIRED #cassie #since i angrily screamed to you about this :|||||#thor love and thunder #marvel #mcu #jane foster #natasha romanov #mcu critical #long post

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traumacatholic · 3 years ago

Photo

Our Lady of Akita is the Catholic title of the Blessed Virgin Mary associated with a wooden statue venerated by faithful Japanese who hold it to be miraculous. The image is known due to the Marian apparitions reported in 1973 by Sister Agnes Katsuko Sasagawa in the remote area of Yuzawadai, an outskirt of Akita, Japan. The messages emphasize prayer (especially recitation of the Holy Rosary) and penance in combination with cryptic visions prophesying sacerdotal persecution and heresy within the Catholic Church.

The second message includes the following: "Many men in this world afflict the Lord. I desire souls to console Him to soften the anger of the Heavenly Father. I wish, with my Son, for souls who will repair by their suffering and their poverty for the sinners and ingrates.”

The third message was communicated on October 13, 1973. It was claimed that the statue became animated for an extended period and was witnessed by a number of nuns. The third Our Lady of Akita message is:

My dear daughter, listen well to what I have to say to you... As I told you, if men do not repent and better themselves, the Father will inflict a terrible punishment on all humanity. It will be a punishment greater than the deluge, such as one will never have seen before. Fire will fall from the sky and will wipe out a great part of humanity... the good as well as the bad, sparing neither priests nor faithful. The survivors will find themselves so desolate that they will envy the dead... Each day recite the prayer of the rosary. With the rosary pray for the Pope, bishops and the priests. The work of the devil will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one will see cardinals opposing cardinals, and bishops against other bishops. The priests who venerate me will be scorned and opposed by their confreres... churches and altars sacked; the Church will be full of those who accept compromises and the demon will press many priests and consecrated souls to leave the service of the Lord. The demon will be especially implacable against souls consecrated to God. The thought of the loss of so many souls is the cause of my sadness. If sins increase in number and gravity, there will be no longer pardon for them. With courage, speak to your superior... It is Bishop Ito, who directs your community. You have still something to ask? Today is the last time that I will speak to you in living voice. From now on you will obey the one sent to you and your superior... I alone am able still to save you from the calamities which approach.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, truly present in the Holy Eucharist, I consecrate my body and soul to be entirely one with Your Heart, being sacrificed at every instant, on the altars of the world, giving praise to the Father and pleading for the coming of His kingdom. Please receive this humble offering of myself. Use me as You will for the glory of the Father and the salvation of souls. Most Holy Mother of God, never let me be separated from your Divine Son. Please defend and protect me as Your special child. Amen.

#Blessed Virgin Mary #Our Lady of Akita #Catholicism #Christianity #Prayer

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 4 years ago

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Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

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charleslucid · 3 years ago

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It’s a weird thing to be watching your own funeral. Then again, it’s also weird to be a ghost, but Billy won’t complain. The only time he’s ever actually been to a funeral was when he was eight, his mother’s friend’s son had died of cancer or something. He didn’t really listen to anything that was going on. He just picked up the flowers at different graves and switched them because again, he didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t really understand death at that point, still believed in the little farm dear old Fido went to where he could play with all the other dogs.

He brings up his feet so he’s sitting with his legs criss crossed in the air, watching everybody sit down in their seats. He’s pissed that his funeral wasn’t held in California, that they kept his mutilated corpse within the town that fucked him over. He could have been buried by the waves, with the soothing sound of water crashing filling his ears for eternity, instead of being buried next to some church for a god that doesn’t even exist. He wishes that he could break through the veil of death and let everyone know that the book they worship is a bunch of bullshit. He would love to see the look on his bastard of a Dad’s face.

Speaking of his father, he sits in the front with a straight face. He doesn’t even care enough to fake cry at the funeral of his son. Next to him is Susan who is dressed in the usual all black attire, if it was up to him they’d all be wearing light blue instead. She at least looks a bit sad, but it’s nothing compared to Max whose eyes are red and puffy from the tears she’s been crying. He almost feels bad for her, he’s been following her around to see her reaction to his heroic death and it’s not what he expected. He expected her to be celebrating with her friends and making jokes but instead she just closed herself off from them all and refuses to sleep anywhere other than his bed. It’s weird.

The most interesting reaction to his death though, would have to be Steve. The Bambi eyed brunet has shown recently that he actually cared for Billy when he was alive. Even going as far as defending him and holding up his reputation. He remembers watching somebody make some stupid comment about how they were happy he was dead. Then, here comes king Steve coming in and defending his honor. It really doesn’t do anything but boost Billy’s ego, but maybe it makes Steve happy. For some reason, he wants Steve to be happy.

The service finally starts, some priest who probably wouldn’t be doing this if he knew how many ducks Billy has sucked in his life comes up to speak. Shit about passing on to heaven. Then his father comes up and if Billy had a working heart it’d be beating fast from anticipation. He can’t wait to see how his father insults him.

“My son.” He pauses and Billy has to hold back a laugh. He doesn’t know why he holds it back though when nobody care hear, “He was a very responsible and respectful young man.” The blond cackles. “He’s always been somebody who you just knew would die from sacrificing themself to save others and that’s exactly what happened.”

As his father goes on about more and more bullshit that he’s pulling out of his ass Billy floats over to Max. Her head is hanging low and her hair is covering her face, she’s wearing one of his hoodies that he only put on once. He wonders how long it took her to convince Susan to let her wear it. The only reason he didn’t know was because he was watching Harrington shower.

When the service finally ends, Billy follows his family back to their car. Max has yet to lift up her head and show her face yet and at this point Billy’s a bit worried. He wishes he could hug her right now, something that he would have ent said when he was alive. He wishes he could just tell her one last thing, tell her that he loves her or it wasn’t her fault. This isn’t a fairytale though. There is no happy ending, no comfort at the end. Billy’s just forced to watch Max mourn and grieve until she manages to live on in life.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #stranger things #charles writes #This is made for a prompt I saw #“Funeral from the dead person’s perspective”#Immediately thought of Billy and then pulled this together #Could have made it more angsty but I’m not feeling like it

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church-history · 4 years ago

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The Message Of Our Lady Of Akita - Eerily Similar To Fatima

The Messages to Sr. Agnes:

July 6, 1973

"My daughter, my novice, you have obeyed me well in abandoning all to follow me. Is the infirmity of your ears painful? Your deafness will be healed, be sure. Does the wound of your hand cause you to suffer? Pray in reparation for the sins of men. Each person in this community is my irreplaceable daughter. Do you say well the prayer of the Handmaids of the Eucharist? Then, let us pray it together."

"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, truly present in Holy Eucharist, I consecrate my body and soul to be entirely one with Your Heart, being sacrificed at every instant on all the altars of the world and giving praise to the Father pleading for the coming of His Kingdom."

"Please receive this humble offering of myself. Use me as You will for the glory of the Father and the salvation of souls."

"Most holy Mother of God, never let me be separated from Your Divine Son. Please defend and protect me as Your Special Child. Amen."

When the prayer was finished, the Heavenly Voice said: "Pray very much for the Pope, Bishops, and Priests. Since your Baptism you have always prayed faithfully for them. Continue to pray very much...very much. Tell your superior all that passed today and obey him in everything that he will tell you. He has asked that you pray with fervor."

August 3, 1973

"My daughter, my novice, do you love the Lord? If you love the Lord, listen to what I have to say to you."

"It is very important...You will convey it to your superior."

"Many men in this world afflict the Lord. I desire souls to console Him to soften the anger of the Heavenly Father. I wish, with my Son, for souls who will repair by their suffering and their poverty for the sinners and ingrates."

"In order that the world might know His anger, the Heavenly Father is preparing to inflict a great chastisement on all mankind. With my Son I have intervened so many times to appease the wrath of the Father. I have prevented the coming of calamities by offering Him the sufferings of the Son on the Cross, His Precious Blood, and beloved souls who console Him forming a cohort of victim souls. Prayer, penance and courageous sacrifices can soften the Father's anger. I desire this also from your community...that it love poverty, that it sanctify itself and pray in reparation for the ingratitude and outrages of so many men.

Recite the prayer of the Handmaids of the Eucharist with awareness of its meaning; put it into practice; offer in reparation (whatever God may send) for sins. Let each one endeavor, according to capacity and position, to offer herself entirely to the Lord."

"Even in a secular institute prayer is necessary. Already souls who wish to pray are on the way to being gathered together. Without attaching to much attention to the form, be faithful and fervent in prayer to console the Master."

After a silence:

"Is what you think in your heart true? Are you truly decided to become the rejected stone? My novice, you who wish to belong without reserve to the Lord, to become the spouse worthy of the Spouse, make your vows knowing that you must be fastened to the Cross with three nails. These three nails are poverty, chastity, and obedience. Of the three, obedience is the foundation. In total abandon, let yourself be led by your superior. He will know how to understand you and to direct you."

October 13, 1973

"My dear daughter, listen well to what I have to say to you. You will inform your superior."

After a short silence:

"As I told you, if men do not repent and better themselves, the Father will inflict a terrible punishment on all humanity. It will be a punishment greater than the deluge, such as one will never seen before. Fire will fall from the sky and will wipe out a great part of humanity, the good as well as the bad, sparing neither priests nor faithful. The survivors will find themselves so desolate that they will envy the dead. The only arms which will remain for you will be the Rosary and the Sign left by My Son. Each day recite the prayers of the Rosary. With the Rosary, pray for the Pope, the bishops and priests."

"The work of the devil will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one will see cardinals opposing cardinals, bishops against bishops. The priests who venerate me will be scorned and opposed by their confreres...churches and altars sacked; the Church will be full of those who accept compromises and the demon will press many priests and consecrated souls to leave the service of the Lord.

"The demon will be especially implacable against souls consecrated to God. The thought of the loss of so many souls is the cause of my sadness. If sins increase in number and gravity, there will be no longer pardon for them"

"With courage, speak to your superior. He will know how to encourage each one of you to pray and to accomplish works of reparation."

"It is Bishop Ito, who directs your community."

And She smiled and then said:

"You have still something to ask? Today is the last time that I will speak to you in living voice. From now on you will obey the one sent to you and your superior."

"Pray very much the prayers of the Rosary. I alone am able still to save you from the calamities which approach. Those who place their confidence in me will be saved."

History of Ecclesiastical Approval

February 27, 1978 — Pope Paul VI approves the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith's Norms of the Congregation for Proceeding in Judging Alleged Apparitions and Revelations. These norms provide the criteria for evaluating such phenomenon and establish the local Ordinary as the competent authority to do so. They also provide that regional or national episcopal conferences may intervene (as has occured with regards to Medjugorje) if warranted, as may the Holy See.

April 22, 1984 — After eight years of investigations, Rev. John Shojiro Ito, Bishop of Niigata, Japan, recognizes "the supernatural character of a series of mysterious events concerning the statue of the Holy Mother Mary" and authorizes "throughout the entire diocese, the veneration of the Holy Mother of Akita, while awaiting that the Holy See publishes definitive judgment on this matter."

[Despite claims that Cardinal Ratzinger gave definitive approval to Akita in 1988, no ecclesiastical decree appears to exist, as certainly would in such a case. However, some individuals, such as former Ambassador of the Phillipines to the Holy See, Mr. Howard Dee, have stated that they were given private assurances by Cardinal Ratzinger of the authenticity of Akita. In any case, in keeping with the current norms, given the absence of a repudiation of Bp. Ito's decision by his successors, or by higher authority, the events of Akita continue to have ecclesiastical approval.]

#catholic #catholic history #our lady of akita #our lady of fatima #akita japan

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