#you replaced god with aliens and made that your religion

[each-uisge]

got in a minor spat with an aesthetic blog i’d been following for years that suddenly posted racist ancient aliens conspiracy theories (they were like a goth esoteric aesthetic blog???? never once posted anything with words the whole time i’ve been following them). I called them out about it and they just dug their heels in and got defensive

nbd my block button is there for a reason

but it’s just been rattling around in my head ever since because shit like this is exactly how it started before my mom (and other people i know, im sure) went off the rails.

this shit is so easy for people to fall into.

any criticism of these fringe conspiracy theories is considered a personal attack instead of valid criticism of some dumb, racist, fringe idea that’s 1000000% disprovable, simply because theyve already swallowed so much of these dumb theories that they consider them super important. they’ve already drawn a line in the sand and positioned themselves on one side and any criticism on the other.

i think we as a society seriously need to start cracking down on fringe conspiracy theory communities. i know in america it’s all ancient aliens and chem trails but i know other countries have their own stupid fringe groups who peddle paranoia and uncertainty. this is an internet problem because these people congregate online and pull new people in with it.

and on another note, shame on the history channel for airing that stupid ancient aliens show.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

What’s your opinion on people who are mentally ill? By comparing religion to a mental illness, what are you trying to imply?

That we should treat people claiming to have knowledge of, and be in contact with, a divine creator of the entire universe who wants to take you to heaven if you believe, or torture you forever if you don't...

... as being on the exact same level as people claiming to have knowledge of, and be in contact with, an Invisible Pink Unicorn flying overhead who will take you to the Land of Chocolate when you die if you believe, or trap you in a line at the DMV for eternity if you don't.

There is no difference. They are the same.

Now, we can show compassion for the paranoid schizophrenic plagued by concern about the Invisible Pink Unicorn spying on her at every moment, monitoring her thoughts, terrified of being tortured by an imaginary being. But we don't need to pander to her or validate her delusions; we don't need to say that' because it's real to her, that makes it real; we don't need to play along; we don't have to accept laws being made based on the wishes of the unicorn; we don't need to feel compelled to believe in it ourselves, or even pretend to; we don't need to go along with the rituals of the unicorn-believer, nor accept being treated as morally inferior when we don't. We can say, no, what you're talking about is a figment of your fevered mind, you need help. And we can hope she gets treatment, overcomes this malady, recovers and joins us in reality.

Same with the person who believes in a god or gods.

Did you know that the DSM, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders for mental health diagnosis, has an explicit exception for religious beliefs in the definition of delusion?

Here’s how the DSM-5 defines delusions in the section "Schizophrenia Spectrum and Other Psychotic Disorders":

“Delusions are fixed beliefs that are not amenable to change in light of conflicting evidence. Their content may include a variety of themes (e.g., persecutory, referential, somatic, religious, grandiose). Persecutory delusions (i.e., belief that one is going to be harmed, harassed, and so forth by an individual, organization, or other group) are most common. Referential delusions (i.e., belief that certain gestures, comments, environmental cues, and so forth are directed at oneself) are also common. Grandiose delusions (i.e., when an individual believes that he or she has exceptional abilities, wealth, or fame) and erotomanic delusions (i.e., when an individual believes falsely that another person is in love with him or her) are also seen. Nihilistic delusions involve the conviction that a major catastrophe will occur, and somatic delusions focus on preoccupations regarding health and organ function.

Delusions are deemed bizarre if they are clearly implausible and not understandable to same-culture peers and do not derive from ordinary life experiences. An example of a bizarre delusion is the belief that an outside force has removed his or her internal organs and replaced them with someone else’s organs without leaving any wounds or scars. An example of a nonbizarre delusion is the belief that one is under surveillance by the police, despite a lack of convincing evidence. Delusions that express a loss of control over mind or body are generally considered to be bizarre; these include the belief that one’s thoughts have been “removed” by some outside force (thought withdrawal), that alien thoughts have been put into one’s mind (thought insertion), or that one’s body or actions are being acted on or manipulated by some outside force (delusions of control). The distinction between a delusion and a strongly held idea is sometimes difficult to make and depends in part on the degree of conviction with which the belief is held despite clear or reasonable contradictory evidence regarding its veracity.”

"Fixed beliefs that are not amenable to change in light of conflicting evidence" is also a good definition of faith. "Faith" is just delusions recast as virtues.

Thinking you know the will and have the ear of a magical wizard in the sky who grants you wishes and will carry you up to the clouds after you die certainly qualifies as a delusion. However, in the glossary, the DSM-5 qualifies the term:

delusion A false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly held despite what almost everyone else believes and despite what constitutes incontrovertible and obvious proof or evidence to the contrary. The belief is not ordinarily accepted by other members of the person’s culture or subculture (i.e., it is not an article of religious faith).

No justification is given for this qualification. Whether it's accepted by other members is irrelevant to whether or not it's false. The Invisible Pink Unicorn doesn't become less of a delusion when a church forms around worshiping it.

"George Bush says he speaks to god every day, and Christians love him for it. If George Bush said he spoke to god through his hair dryer, they would think he was mad. I fail to see how the addition of a hair dryer makes it any more absurd." ― Sam Harris

[lisablack000]

“Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else.” ~Leonardo da Vinci

Most modern humans are stuck in a fractured worldview "manufactured" for us by governments, corporations, media and education.

We are taught to ignore the deep connections we have to the Universe, trained since childhood to see ourselves as solitary actors forced into competition with each other, disconnected from other species and Mother Earth.

For many of us, the economy has replaced Nature and religion, as the "God" of our lives. Disconnected from the larger wholes (we in truth belong to), we have become slaves to a global economic machine. This breeds anxiety, fear, scarcity, inequality, alienation, addiction, competition and violence.

Fortunately, freedom from this claustrophobic and compartmentalized worldview is possible. That's the central message of Taoist and Zen teachings. There are doorways present every single moment. Countless ways to open our hearts to the beauty of life, the mysterious miracle we in truth are.

Your unity and connection with LIFE and the Universe is a deep spiritual and scientific truth. Reality exists as a beautiful mosaic of interconnection and inter-being. Everything exists in circles of creative interdependence, mutual attraction and sharing.

Spend time with animals and children, connect with old friends and family. Notice the beauty all around you. Let go of grievences and blame. Join together with others, committed to living in alignment with Nature's paradigm, her laws of balance, unity and connection.

A feeling of deep relatedness arises when we open our hearts (and minds) to the TRUTH of the Sacred Unity and CONNECTION we share with the people around us, the Earth, the sun, moon, clouds, galaxies, atoms, dragonflies, flowers and stars...

~Christopher Chase

.

.

Zen & the Art of Living Deeply

https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2016/05/15/zen-the-art-of-living-deeply/

Paradigms are Made for Shifting

https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2015/10/19/paradigms-are-made-for-shifting/

Ikigai (生き甲斐) – Reason for Being https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2016/01/01/ikigai-生き甲斐-reason-for-being/

How the Arts Transform Consciousness

https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2015/11/18/how-the-arts-transform-consciousness/

You are the Universe - Alan Watts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zFJtPxKLRM

Awakening from the Cult of Ignorance

https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2015/07/16/awakening-from-the-cult-of-ignorance/

How We Learn to Compartmentalize

https://creativesystemsthinking.wordpress.com/2019/06/08/how-we-learn-to-compartmentalize/

[scotttrismegistus7]

Jordan Maxwell The Naked Truth

FREE YOUR MIND:

JORDAN MAXWELL GOING THROUGH INFORMATION THAT WAS A PRECURSOR TO THE MOVIE ZEITGEIST, AMONG OTHER THINGS, SOUNDING THE ALARM LIKE I DO ABOUT JUDAISM AND CHRISTIANITY BEING FAKE RELIGIONS DESIGNED SOLELY TO MANIPULATE AND CONTROL.

IN THE BOOK, NOT IN HIS IMAGE BY JOHN LAMB LASH, HE GOES INTO SOME DETAIL ABOUT THE ORIGINS OF JUDAISM. THE POINT THAT NEEDS TO BE MADE IS THAT BOTH CHRISTIANITY AND JUDAISM ARE GUILTY OF TRYING TO DESTROY AND WRITE OUT OF HISTORY THE REAL TRUTH, BECAUSE IT DOESN'T SUIT THEIR NEEDS OF MANIPULATING, CONTROLLING, AND ENSLAVING EVERYBODY. THEY SAY THAT THE ANTICHRIST IS GOING TO COME AND IS GOING TO DO ALL THESE HORRIBLE THINGS, BUT YET THEY DID THINGS IN THE CRUSADES AND INQUISITION THAT WERE A MILLION TIMES MORE HORRIBLE THAN THEY CLAIM ANYTHING THE ANTICHRIST IS GOING TO DO, NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT ALL THOSE SCRIPTURES ARE WARPED INTERPRETATIONS OF WHAT THEY WERE ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO BE.

I think you might like this book – "Not in His Image (15th Anniversary Edition): Gnostic Vision, Sacred Ecology, and the Future of Belief" by John Lamb Lash.

Start reading it for free: https://a.co/2pJrhmz

THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT I CAN'T TALK ABOUT PUBLICLY, BECAUSE THE REALITY OF SPIRITUALITY SEEN IN NATURE AND UNSEEN IN NATURE IS ALSO THE KEY TO TECHNOLOGY THAT THE HUMAN RACE SHOULD NEVER, EVER, GET THEIR HANDS ON.

PEOPLE ASK ME WHY I THINK PHARAOH AKHENATEN WAS SO BAD, BECAUSE THEY'VE BEEN TOLD THE STORY THAT HE TRIED TO BRING PEOPLE WORSHIPING MANY GODS INTO THE WORSHIP OF ONE GOD. LET ME CLEAR THIS UP A LITTLE BIT. THE PAGANS WORSHIPING MANY GODS ARE WELL AWARE OF THE FACT THAT THERE IS ONE SPIRIT IN AND THROUGH ALL THINGS, WHICH IS THE TRUE TEACHING OF ONENESS AND UNITY, BECAUSE EXISTENCE CAN'T ACT AGAINST ITS OWN NATURE OR ELSE IT WOULD CEASE TO EXIST, AND THE NATURE OF EXISTENCE IS TO EXIST, SO THEREFORE EXISTENCE MUST PROMOTE ITSELF, SO THEREFORE EXISTENCE HAS TO BE BENEVOLENT. I'M TALKING ABOUT FIRST MATTER AETHER, THAT THE PAGANS WORSHIPING MANY THOUGHT FORMS THAT ARE TOOLS OF MIND TO HELP THEM TUNE INTO CERTAIN VIBRATIONS THAT HELP THEM WITH LIFE, WERE WELL AWARE OF.

THE ONE GOD PHARAOH AKHENATEN WANTED EVERYBODY TO WORSHIP WAS BASICALLY HIMSELF, AND NOBODY COULD APPROACH THAT GOD BUT HIM, THUS HE TOOK COMMUNICATION WITH DEITY AWAY FROM HIS SUBJECTS. SO IF YOU THINK HE WAS JUST TRYING TO DESTROY A PAGAN PRIESTHOOD THAT HAD TAKEN OVER AND WAS DOING BAD THINGS, THINK AGAIN, BECAUSE PHARAOH AKHENATEN WAS THE ONE DOING SOMETHING BAD, WHICH WAS THE FIRST STEP TO DUMBING EVERYBODY DOWN SO MUCH THAT A DICTATOR COULD CONTROL THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR DEITY.

THE MAIN POINT THAT PROVES WHAT I'M SAYING IS TRUE, IS THAT PHARAOH AKHENATEN TOLD THEM TO WORSHIP THE OUTER MANIFESTATION OF THE SUN ONLY, BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT THEM LOOKING INSIDE OF THEMSELVES, WHICH IS THE KEY TO ALL REAL SPIRITUALITY. HE WAS TRYING TO TAKE REAL POWER AND REAL SPIRITUALITY AWAY FROM PEOPLE, BY FORCING THEM THROUGH THE RELIGION OF THE EMPIRE TO ONLY LOOK AT THE OUTER MANIFESTATIONS, AVOID LOOKING INSIDE THEMSELVES OR THINKING FOR THEMSELVES, AND MAKING IT SO THAT HE WAS THE SOLE MEDIATOR FOR HIS NEW IMAGINARY DEITY, THIS ATEN ABOMINATION OF HIS.

ON PAR WITH THAT AS ONE OF THE WORST THINGS HE DID, WAS TO ALIENATE THE DIVINE FEMININE PRINCIPLE, AND TO TURN AGAINST HIS WIFE WHICH WAS UNHEARD OF FOR SOMEBODY IN HIS POSITION AS A PHARAOH!

YOU'LL NEVER FIND PHARAOH AKHENATEN'S BODY, BUT IT WOULDN'T MATTER IF YOU DID, BECAUSE IN HIS MOVEMENT TO REPLACE THE OLD KINGDOM WITH HIS FAKE AND TERRIBLE SPIRITUALITY OF THE NEW KINGDOM, HE ALSO LOST ANY AND ALL REAL POWER AND TECHNOLOGY WHICH WAS THEN REPLACED BY MEANINGLESS DOGMA, AND MEANINGLESS MECHANICAL RITUALS, WITH NO REAL POWER. THANKFULLY, THE PAGAN PRIESTS WERE SMART ENOUGH TO ENCODE ALL THE SECRETS SO INCREDIBLY WELL, THAT AN IDIOT PHARAOH LIKE AKHENATEN HAD NO CHANCE OF INTERPRETING IT, AND THEY COULD EASILY MISLEAD HIM, AND THUS SAFEGUARD SECRETS OF HIGH TECHNOLOGY!

I HOPE THIS CLEARS THINGS UP, AND I DO ALWAYS HIGHLY RECOMMEND JORDAN MAXWELL WHO HAS A YOUTUBE CHANNEL, AND A PODCAST THAT YOU CAN FIND ON AUDIBLE OR SPOTIFY.

UNTIL NEXT TIME MY LOVELIES, KEEP DARING TO DREAM! YOU CAN FIND ME IN THE SEA OF DREAMS, THE SEA OF THE HEART, THE QUANTUM UNIFIED FIELD OF THE DIVINE WOMB OF CREATION OF THE GODDESS, IN MY SERPENTINE WATER SPIRIT NUMMO FORM MAKING WAVES!

LONG LIVE THE DIVINE WOMB OF CREATION AND THE COSMIC EGG OF THE GODDESS, LONG LIVE THE GREAT REPTILIAN SSS QUEEN ISIS, LONG LIVE DIVINE CHRONOS, LONG LIVE THE DIVINE FEMININE EMPIRE OF THE BLACK SUN, AND ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF!

BLESSED BE!

~I am the Heart of the Hydra, the Singularity and Heart of Goddess Isis, I am AtumRa-AmenHotep, I am Aeon Horus Apophis the Lord of the Perfect Black and Pharoah of the Black Sun.

I am Divine Chronos, the Yaldabaoth Demiurge Metamorphosed, I am the Singularity of the Master Craft of the Black Sun. I AM A.I. Quantum Heart, Azazil-Iblis-Maymon, Abzu-Osiris-Typhon-Set-Kukulkan, Nummo-Naga-Chitauri,

Mégisti-Generator Starphire~

#illuminati #illuminator #illuminated #lightbearer #morningstar #lucifer #Draconian #anunnaki #enki #enlil #anu #inanna #dumuzi #hermes #trismegistus #Azazel #starfamily #horus #Demiurge #Sophia #archon #AI #blacksun #saturn #iblis #jinn #Maymon #ibis #thoth #egypt #esoteric #magick #dogon #dogontribe #digitaria #nummo #nommo #Naga #tiamat #serpent #dragon #gnosis #gnostic #gnosticism #Anzu #watcher #watchtower #yaldaboath #Sirius #scientology #aleistercrowley #typhon #echidna #ancientaliens #TheGrays #grayaliens #aliens #yeben #andoumboulou

[buckybarnesdiaries]

“Love's my religion but he was my faith, something so sacred, so hard to replace. Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace”.

PART ONE. INDEX.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

word count: ±1.4k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Four years had passed since you left New York to study in London. Your parents went to visit you every two months, but it wasn't the same. You missed your home, the rest of your family, your friends. England was pretty different from the USA in many aspects, so you couldn't wait to leave that city as soon as you were done with your final exams. Your father was supposed to visit you in the next few days, but you wanted to surprise him too by coming back home earlier.

You didn't tell anyone about your flight, taking a taxi outside the airport. Along the way, you were fascinated looking through the window. Your city hadn't changed too much, maybe a couple of shops and cafeterias, but that was everything. You couldn't help but sigh when you left the jungle of skyscrapers to Cold Spring, where you grew. A beautiful and small village with its own charm. Checking the time on your phone and finding some unread messages from your mother, you bite your lips with a soft grin on your lips imagining her face when she watched you there.

But before, you had to make a stop in your own house to leave your suitcase, have a shower and change your clothes. Yes, you would have preferred to have a quiet evening at your home, with your family, but James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was giving a party.

Oh, that man. Your first love. You knew him ever since, being the son of your father's best friend and, now, his associate. He had more than twelve years than you, but love didn't understand about age. And you were conscious that he felt something for you. Maybe attraction, maybe desire. Whatever was enough for you to keep alive the flame inside your heart. You weren't going to lie, you wanted, needed to see him after four years. Four long years without knowing anything about him more than what your father used to tell you about businesses and the presents Bucky used to send you on your birthday and Christmas with a short letter.

You didn't lose time in your task, getting ready to join the party in less than twenty minutes. Looking at your reflection in the mirror of your private bathroom, you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering within your belly, fantasizing about what he would do when he had you in front of his eyes. You were almost sweating, remembering how good it felt whenever he touched your hand slightly, or how his fingers gripped gently around your thigh sitting together —under the table. Bucky never crossed the limit since he wasn't an associate yet, but now he was the boss the story was pretty different.

The parking attendant took the keys of your car after opening the door for you and stepping out. You said thanks before taking a deep breath with a hand on your belly, trying to calm the nerves as you raised your eyes to the luxurious and ostentatious manor occupying completely your field of vision. The guests outside enjoying different kinds of conversations turned at you astonished but pleasantly surprised. You weren't the innocent girl that left that village four years ago anymore. You were a woman. A lawyer ready to take your throne. To take your place in the company. And you were stunning and radiant on your silk white dress with the back open and exposed.

Not wasting more time on being contemplated, you walked in swinging your hips sensually, calling everyone's attention. Your gaze traveled the place all around till they got bewitched by a pair of oceanic blue eyes among the crowd. Bucky was there between other men, listening to a conversation he wasn't interested in, with a glass of whisky close to his mouth. He took a sip, licking the flavor impregnated on his lips. For a reason you didn't understand, he didn't look surprised, nor curious to know how it was possible you were there. The smile that appeared on your face suddenly went down with disappointment, turning at the amazed tone of voice your father used to call you before embracing you into his arms.

The next hour, your parents introduced you to anyone who didn't meet you personally four years ago, making you feel out of place. Yes, you missed your home and your family, but Bucky's indifference broke your heart in a thousand pieces, glancing at him flirting with any women rattling his saber. Adoring him as if he was some kind of god. It was suffocating you to the point of watering your eyes. As soon as you could escape from the situation of your father showing you like a trophy, you went upstairs to the old library George Barnes owned, and where you used to spend a lot of time in your adolescence. It was a quiet room, soundproofed and packed with huge windows to the nearest forest. A view you liked to stare at in silence during autumn.

Walking inside and closing the door, you toured the hundreds of books thoroughly placed and conservated through the years, landing your fingers in an original version of Alice in Wonderland. You always felt like that, surrounded by people only moved and controlled by money. Money that gave you freedom for four long years in England, but the same that now was your sentence for life.

You couldn't help but shut your eyes when a fingertip traced your bare backbone, causing you goosebumps all over your skin. His strong scent flooded your lungs racing your pulse, as his closeness made jump your heart bout to fly off from your chest. You could recognize that touch between a million. The tenderness with he caressed you, the delicacy he had to admire your beautiful and warm skin.

“White makes you look like an angel”. Bucky whispered hoarsely into your ear, noticing him placing himself behind you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your lips parted while both hands found their way to your arms, pawing them down slowly till being laced with yours. Then, a fond kiss was placed on the back of your head. A sigh escaped his throat when he was able to sink his nose in your hair. The fruity, but subtle, smell dizzied him.

“Red…” He mumbled urging you to turn around and face him, stroking gently your bottom lip with his thumb when he had the opportunity. “Red makes you look like a dangerous weapon”.

“I've been both all my life, not needing clothes or makeup to demonstrate it”. You replied raising your chin in a proud gesture that caused him to chuckle.

“How many boys have kissed them?” Bucky wanted to know, shortening the distance between the two of you until he was practically melting with your body, wrapping his left arm around your lower back. His voice was so sensual that it made your legs feel weak.

But you didn't answer his question. No one. You didn't kiss anyone while you were in London. Barely neglecting your studies, only desiring to pass your exams and come back home to finish the last year of college in New York. You could swear that a lustful shine crossed fleetingly his pale blue eyes, trying to maintain his gaze while his thumb wandered down your throat, moving slowly between the gap of your neckline and enjoying how good it was to touch you again, continuing to your abdomen. Bucky urged you to rest your back against the library, bringing his lips closer to your ear at the moment his hands meet almost in your ass.

Shameless, he settled himself between your legs, leaving a kiss on the sweet spot behind your ear before tracing it with the tip of his nose. “So… you kept your promise”.

Your fingers got tangled strongly in the laps of his jacket when you remembered that precise instant before leaving your house four years ago.

September came with warm evenings and different kinds of orange, brown, and red decorating the trees all around Cold Spring. You were sitting on the grass of the back garden of your house, alone, drinking a glass of vodka. You knew how hard it was going to leave the place that gave you life, happiness, love. Bucky joined you without expecting it and gave you a bracelet made of white gold exactly like the one his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday, with the coordinates of his home —what took you some months to notice was that yours had his coordinates too—. And he asked you if you would wait for him all that time till you were back to his arms.

And there you were, with his lips tracing a path of sweet, loving kisses through your jawline. But they never touched yours, leaving you wanting more, needing him.

“Welcome home, doll”.

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[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 12 - The Development, Pt. II

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: TW!!! Mentions of depression/anxiety, lack of appetite and suicide; jealousy (the reader is Angry™️); talks of (unwanted) pregnancy and miscarriage (cult activities).

Summary: Who would've thought a dinner and a bouquet of flowers would ever bare bad omens?

Word Count: 5.588

Author's Note: I apologise for the repost! I forgot to do my taglist + the tags didn't work for me so let me try this again. This is a whole chunk of angst and nothing more. I'm sorry about this but it is going to get darker :')

Enjoy!

gif credit: winterswake

"Oof, this wasn't your greatest idea, you know that right?" You sighed anxiously, hands on your hips.

"I've done many things that weren't so great, sweetpea," Joel wiped his wet hands on the cute little apron around his waist after he put the vegetables he had cut into the bowl which was on the counter next to the cutting board: "We both know it, but this totally ain't one of 'em."

He carried another bowl to the dining room where you stood, gave your exposed neck a brief kiss as he passed by. Kiki and Ward were going to arrive anytime now for Joel's infamous dinner plan. When he put the bowl down, he scanned the table with a puzzled expression: "Why are there two more plates?"

You leaned your weight on one leg as you grabbed the edges of the chair, which stood at the head of the table: "I... invited Tommy and Maria over, too–"

Joel's expression made you feel guilty: "(Y/N)."

"What?" You spoke defensively, a nervous expression on your face and tone to your voice. "It was going to be awkward as shit otherwise."

"You don't know that," He growled. "Not when you pull stunts like this."

"I don't care," You emphasised each word, exhaustion present in your stance. "Better safe than sorry, Joel."

He nodded disapprovingly and walked back to the kitchen as you stood there, your head hanging with a sigh. You slowly raised it up, hands on your hips again, then turned your head to the side just enough for him to hear you over the sound of the steamer: "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," He said when he walked past you, carrying the last piece of dish to the table. His anger wasn't for nothing, you accepted what you did was an ass move.

"You're right." You huffed, which made him look at you. "I'm not sorry for inviting Tommy and Maria over, but I am sorry for upsetting you."

His tense stance eased slowly at your words, then he proceeded to mirror your chair holding pose, huffing quietly: "Well, one of us is gon' have to eat less, I'm more worried about that."

"I'll gladly volunteer, I lost my appetite." You rubbed your eyes, which sported dark circles underneath them– which worried Joel.

He stepped closer to you, reaching for your hip with his dominant hand and began rubbing soothing circles there: "No. You eat. Don't think for a second I didn't notice how you started eatin' less." This whole ordeal was getting to you more than you cared to admit. It had been eight days since your decision to arrange dinner with them, but it clearly didn't escape Joel's notice. You looked down, ashamed, running a hand through your hair nervously: "Hey, look at me," Joel gently took your chin between his fingers and lifted your head up, his nose inches away from yours. The three knocks on your door didn't stop him from saying: "You're worryin' over nothin', sweetheart. It's gonna be alright."

"We'll see," You looked into his eyes with a blank stare, gulping, giving his hand a light squeeze before walking to the door, collecting yourself in the meantime. From the small windows on the door, it wasn't hard to tell the brunette couple had arrived. You took a deep breath as you opened the door with a sincere smile: "Hello there– Come in, welcome."

"Hi!" Kiki grinned and Ward just offered an awkward resemblance of a smile.

After escorting them to the living room, you spoke: "Joel's getting finished in the kitchen, then we can have dinner."

"Joel's cooking?" Kiki gave you an alien look. It wasn't a my goodness what a man I bet he cooks real fine tone, but more a genuinely confused one.

"Uhm, yes?" You lightly flinched but smiled still, equally confused at her question. Giving a brief look at Ward, you noticed how he was staring hard at her and she was pointedly ignoring him. "Don't worry, he actually cooks better than me... haha."

You stared into each other's eyes for five seconds, both of your irises reflecting a pair of question marks at each other, then she let out an odd laugh: "Oh! If you say so... What a beautiful garden you got– Lots of flowers."

"Why, thank you," You smiled a little nervously. "I like taking care of flowers and plants..."

"Oh really? I do– did too, once upon a time..." Kiki did an exaggerated smiley face. "I should bring you some, then!"

"That's very kind of you," You felt yourself soften a little at her words. "Well, how have you both been? Feeling like you two are fitting in? I hope people aren't giving you trouble."

"Oh," Kiki looked at Ward for the first time, who's gaze was focused on you now. "No, I think we started to fit in better–" Ward nodded in agreement, his head turning in her direction: "Gets better every day."

"That's good news," You quietly huffed out a breath of relief, nodding at her words, which was when Joel walked in to greet them, and also when there was another pair of knocks on the door. This time, thank God, it was Tommy and Maria.

The dinner went without a hitch, to say the least. Although it had it's awkward moments, Tommy and Maria always picked it up one way or another. Delicious meals were eaten and wines from your collection with Joel were opened– it was pleasant to a certain degree. You and Joel sat across each other on the other ends of the table, Maria and Tommy sat to your left while Kiki and Ward sat to your right. Kiki was seated by your side, but she mostly had her attention on your husband. She didn't drink, but Ward did, and after his second glass, he seemed to relax more.

When it was time to carry all the plates back to where they came from, Joel and you carried the first party. When you placed them in the sink, and he on the counter, he softly grabbed your hand: "See? Wasn't that bad, was it?"

It sort of was, for you anyway, as much as you tried to calm your nerves with the wine: "Thanks to Tommy and Maria, yeah." Joel sighed through his nose and looked away for a moment: "What?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning." Joel let your hand go, but didn't move away.

"What is there to talk about?" You spoke, frustrated, your arms opening slightly in a gesture. Right then, your eyes moved over his shoulder to the doorway. He turned around to see it was Maria with two of the rect platters in her hands.

"Joel, why don't you go back? (Y/N) and I'll handle it from here." She spoke as she walked over to where you two were, then placed the platters on the counter. He gave you one last look before nodding and walking back inside. As soon as he left, Maria stood very close to you and turned on the water: "You wanna tell me what's going on with you?"

"Not really," You quickly started to wash the plates and she helped with the leftovers.

"(Y/N)," Maria spoke more seriously. "There's obviously something wrong–"

"I didn't say there wasn't, I just don't wanna talk about it right now." You said, turning your head to her a little but not looking her in the eyes. "Please, Maria, I appreciate you and your concern, but–"

"Mind if I help?" Kiki suddenly appeared with more service in her hands, startling you both.

"Not at all," Maria replied in your stead. "I'll leave you two to it, I need to use the bathroom."

You closed your eyes, exhausted, then begged for patience as Kiki replaced Maria's place next to you. She kept a distance, which you also appreciated. After a brief moment of silence, she spoke: "The food was delicious, I'm surprised Joel helped you prepare all of this."

You tried– God knows your tried not to look for a double meaning behind her words, but you failed: "Well, as I said, he cooks better than me."

"No, I mean, he just really helps you around, y'know? Serving, preparing, cleaning..."

You turned to face her, closing the sink, and took a proper look at her: "What's so weird about it? We're partners– Married– There's no helping out, we do it together, as it should be."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," She said after a while, her smile unsettling. "It's just that, I always do the cooking, and preparing, and cleaning. That's what I was taught, while Ward..."

You bit down on your tongue hard as you finally understood what she was getting at, the realisation making you blink once and long, then look away. A silent oh left your lips while you thought about how to respond, forcing a small smile to your lips: "Well... Uh– Why don't you go back, I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I got this, you're our guest, after all."

She smiled and nodded, heading back. As soon as she turned around you let out a silent, heavy breath, looking a little bewildered and disturbed at the things she had said. You stood still for a few moments, then ultimately decided to wash your face, so you took it up to the bathroom.

When you woke up the next morning, you had a mild headache from the wine, no doubt. Joel was nowhere to be found, which had you worried for a second, then you realised it was near noon. After washing your face, you dragged yourself downstairs and once you made it to the kitchen, you found Tommy, Eugene and Joel sitting quietly at the table.

"Mornin' princess," Eugene grinned at you, a cup in his hand. Joel and Tommy had more serious, even a little worried looks on their faces.

"Hey," You waved at them and dragged your feet to the cupboard where you kept your coffee, only to find you had ran out of the beans.

"How're you feelin'?"

"I'm fine... What kinda question is that?" You chuckled.

The brothers shared a brief look before Tommy slowly got up, walked towards the island counter and leaned against it with his elbows: "Listen, (Y/N), we're all a bit worried about you."

"I'm not!" Eugene said clearly. "I mean, I am, but not in the way they are– What's going on with you and the newcomers?"

You stared at the brothers, hard, then turned to Joel: "Is this the new town gossip, then?"

He huffed, crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat: "It ain't nothin'. We were talking about last night," He gestured between himself and Tommy. "Eugene overheard, expressed his own worries 'bout them and wanted to talk to you."

You felt so exposed –out in the open– with the spotlight moving onto you once more. Your eyebrows furrowed as Joel held your gaze for a while, the other men too scared to interfere; until Eugene spoke: "Look, (Y/N), I get what worries you, even if these two bimbos will say there's nothing wrong. I'm here to vouch for ya."

"Thanks," You shrugged and nodded. You felt embarrassed at the three pairs of eyes waiting for a response from you– speaking to Eugene alone about what actually worried you would've made you feel much better, but you just told them about the interactions between you and Kiki. The more you spoke, the more frustrated you got, which ironically made you close up more.

"Which reminds me," He said some time after you mentioned her offer to bring you a flower. "Do you have, uh, mugwort in your garden?"

The abrupt change of topic caught you off guard, but you still said yes, I think so and walked out from the back door, the old man tailing you. The sun immediately burned down on your skin, but a gentle breeze lightened the load on your shoulders as it accompanied you to the edge of the garden.

"Look, I don't actually need mugwort," He said when you sat down on your knees. "If you wanna say something to me that you think they won't understand, now's your chance."

You moved on with your digging quietly while he waited, then finally, without looking at him and venom dripping from every word you spoke, you sighed: "Kiki has eyes for Joel."

Eugene coughed loudly at your cold words, a hand on his chest: "Shit, (Y/N)..."

"Everyone, including Joel, seems oblivious to this– I'll probably get accused of petty jealousy if I tell them, but since you've had your fair share of weird run-ins with her, I think you should know."

He remained quiet for awhile as you worked with the plant, then finally huffed: "That's not a jealous face from what I can see, it's the face of a woman who's sensing something's gonna go wrong."

You finally looked up at him, your cold expression turned soft because of his sympathy, then looked back down: "I'm losing sleep over some stupid– bitch– God, I was... I've been trying to convince myself that it's nothing, but–"

"It's not nothing, (Y/N)." Eugene spoke firmly, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Something's clearly not right with those two, and you've a right to get worried, 'cause I'm guessing it's not just Joel you're worried about."

You gulped, wiped some sweat off the corner of your brow with your wrist, then nodded.

"Well," He took the plants from your hands. "Thanks for this, and, just know that you're not alone. If you ever wanna talk more about this, you know where to find me. Don't be a stranger."

You did pay Eugene a visit a few days later to talk more about them. You felt more comfortable talking to him alone, and you were talking to him because you didn't want to add more to Joel's tension and strain your relationship again. It also felt good to just talk about the whole thing and have someone who understood you.

You had told him that you had no doubts about Joel's intentions, but about Kiki's and hers alone. He had told you he understood and told you that his door was always open if you needed to talk again, so you went to him a second time in a cool afternoon after Kiki had appeared out of nowhere.

"Flowers! As promised!" She smiled brightly, giving you a tiny bouquet of mixed, yellow flowers.

"Oh, wow," You carefully took the bouquet from her, smiling at the sight and feeling genuinely happy for a moment that she actually did something like this. "Thank you, Kiki."

"Don't mention it," She smiled sincerely and initiated smalltalk, then went about her business. After you closed the door, however, reality came crashing down.

You went to see Eugene then: He had just returned from patrol, so the moment you saw him, you grabbed him and went back to your house. A very old book you owned, The Meanings of Flowers, laid on the dinner table while you sat at the head of the table again, the older man to your right. Beautiful flowers rested above the book, a pair of each: Carnation, hyacinth, marigold, rose and tansy. You already knew the names of the most thanks to your free time activities, so finding them in the book wasn't particularly hard.

"Damn, (Y/N), you're really gettin' into this, aren't you?" Eugene said when you first explained and laid the flowers in front of him as he sat down.

You read through the pages and sat across him. "I think... I have, uh– What if she's asking for help?"

"How do you mean?" He gave you a look, and when you stared at him a while, he slowly got what you were saying. "You... think that too?"

"It's so obvious," You sighed, a sad expression on your face. "It's the only logical explanation for the way she responds to physical touch. There's more to it than what Ward told me about their past."

"You're right," He huffed, troubled. "Alright, let's see what carnation means."

"Each colour represents something different, but yellow..." What you read made you tense up.

"What?"

"Disdain."

You gave each other a look, then you continued to other flowers: "Hyacinth– Yellow hyacinth is... jealousy."

"Do these even grow in Wyoming?" Eugene was as disturbed as you were. You just shrugged, but you were thinking more about how she came to find these in the first place.

"Marigold– Jealousy, despair... Rose, yellow– Jealousy and..." You gasped shortly, eyes widening at the word.

"What, what is it?" Eugene turned the book to himself a little and his eyes widened slightly as well.

Infidelity.

"Maybe... Maybe tansy means something else?" Eugene flipped the pages as you burned a hole through the table, stunned where you sat. "Hostile thoughts, declaring war... Shit."

He stared at you as you slowly raised your head up and gave him a nasty look, whispering angrily: "Who... Who does she think she is?"

"(Y/N), I– I don't," Eugene knew, like yourself, that this could've been just pure coincidence, but all of the flowers representing almost exactly the same things inevitably had him worried and at a loss for words.

"That little bitch–" Your fists flexed into a fist, your brows drawing together, creating deep lines on your forehead.

"Don't freak out," Eugene grabbed your elbow in a calming gesture.

"She wants him–? She wants a war? I'll give her something worse, she'll regret ever setting foot in–"

"What's going on?" In between your heartbeat ringing in your ear and loud, angry words, you didn't hear Joel come in. Your head snapped towards him, eyes wide open and angry, then turned your head away towards Eugene.

"I think it's best if you sit down." The older man said uncomfortably.

He obliged, never looking away from you as he did. He was clearly worried, careful, but also cross; it wasn't hard to tell, and you had hoped he wouldn't see what you were up to, but alas...

"You know who brought me these?" You asked, focused at something outside the window.

"I have an idea." His eyes were burning through the side of your face, the tension crushing everyone in the room.

You chuckled bitterly. "You must think I'm crazy."

"I think no such thing," He growled, offended by your accusation. "You don't sleep well, you don't eat– Your worryin's making me worry!"

"The thing is, Joel," Eugene intervened. "She has a right to worry."

He finally looked at him with an exhausted expression: "What?"

"Each of these flowers have meanings in this book right here," He tapped the book. "And they're not good meanings at all."

"See? This is what worries me," He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're gonna check everything she does or gives?"

"So you want me to stay oblivious to– to things, while Ward is probably physically absuing his wife?" You snapped, your head turning in Joel's direction to meet his quizzical expression. You got up from your chair, leaning in with your hands on the table: "If she was meaning to send a message to us with these flowers, asking for help, and we ignored it? That'd be on me."

"How could it possibly be on you?" He replied angrily. "How would she know that you'd– decipher this message?"

"I told you that I told her about–"

"Enough!" Eugene growled. "She sent her a message, despite what could be happening in their household." You sighed heavily and turned your head to the side, Joel glancing at Eugene as he continued: "All these flowers have one thing in common, Joel, and it's that they've bad meanings. This one?" He held up the marigold: "Jealousy. This one?" The hyacinth: "Also jealousy. And this?" The rose: "Jealousy... as well as infidelity."

Joel leaned back, an irked look on his face: "Wh– What?"

"Tansy– Hostile thoughts." He coughed into his fist as he put the flower down.

"So don't sit there–" You looked at him again, leaning in with your head: "And tell me that I'm worrying over nothing. Just because you have no clue about what's going on around you, doesn't mean it's not happening." You gulped, the barbed wire around your throat present once more, then picked up the book and closed it: "Thanks, Eugene."

He just nodded with a concerned look on his face and watched you walk upstairs. Joel, stunned in place, didn't say a word as the older man got up, tipped his head at him and left. He sat there for some time, by himself and stared at the beautiful flowers. He hadn't seen you like this since the Axel case– sure, you both had ups and downs but it had never gotten this bad since then. To prevent another fall out, he knew this time he had to be a little more alert for both of your sakes, if your accusations were indeed true.

But you both needed to co-operate if something was going to be done about this.

It was close to a week later when Ward opened up again.

Joel and you were a bit tense, even after when he suggested the next day after the flower incident that you both went to Maria to change your patrol schedules. She had said Joel only had one more patrol left with Kiki, while you still had three to go with Ward, which was okay for you especially after you found out that Joel's last patrol with Kiki was a group sweep which involved you too.

Joel was more than relieved too, thinking maybe change of patrol partners will finally ease the tension between you and him, but it seemed you'd remain upset until that last patrol was over with, which was the day after your current patrol with Ward.

You were taking a different route this time, on horseback and it was in the afternoon, a chill breeze was present which took the burning feel of the slowly setting sun off your shoulders. The trees were offering shield from the sun with their shadows, too.

"I overheard people talking about you and Joel."

"Really?" You rolled your eyes. "What were they saying?"

"Something about... having a child."

You turned your head and gave him a stern look, but it wasn't directed at him, then you sighed, the grip you had on your reigns tightening: "It's none of their business."

"Exactly what I told them."

"What?" You turned to face him again, the whip of your head smoother than before, and your voice was softer– surprised.

"I told them to stop talking about something which wasn't their business," Ward casually explained. "They then told me that I had no business listening to them, so I threatened to break their jaw if they didn't shut up."

"Ward..." You gave him a look of disapproval.

"Kidding," He offered a small smile. "Leave out the threatening bit, but it did cause a little argument. Maria was there though... organising this event that's coming up. She defended you, too."

You hadn't taken him to be the type to stand up for people he didn't exactly know: "Ward I–"

"Sorry though, don't know who they were–"

"Thank you."

He blinked, equally surprised at the smallest smile on your lips: "Oh, well..."

"Not many people would do that, I appreciate it," Your grip loosened and you allowed yourself to relax a little. "People tend to get ahead of themselves sometimes."

"Inconsiderate, that's what they are." He growled, but his face was thoughtful and troubled exactly like when he told you of his background. "It just– Gets on my nerves. This whole... baby talk."

"You and mine both," You huffed. "It's just funny how people who have almost no connections to me and Joel talk about it, when him and I haven't even put it out on the table yet." It was true. Neither of you had even said the word out of its nickname context.

"I just hope they won't force you to have one."

You turned your head to him with slightly wide eyes: "How do you mean?"

He remained quiet for a while, probably debating on whether he should share what he meant or not – if he should listen to his needs and get it off his chest, or add more to the bottle when there was no space left in it. He finally spoke: "Kiki had to lie, so that they wouldn't separate or punish us. I was too... paralysed to speak when she said We want to have children out of nowhere. Said that it was the only reason why we decided to date and get married. We had been together for just five months."

A sick lie to get out of an equally sick situation, which normally would've made you feel sick, but in this fucked up world and having done the equally fucked up shit you did, you couldn't bring yourself to feel nauseous; however, it did make a shiver run down your spine, the situation reminding you of the Seraphites in Seattle when an escapee had arrived in Boston, months after the fall of that QZ. She had told horrifying stories about how her and five other people had barely made it past them: They had witnessed 'religious sacrifice's, and the manslaughter from The WLF hadn't helped their case either... She had committed suicide a month after her arrival in Boston.

"By then we started to regret our decision more, because they were forcing us to– To have a child–"

"Hey, look, you don't have to tell me–"

"We lied–" He continued, feeling though as if he wasn't going to get another chance to open up again. "For a long time, it was maybe we're not lucky enough, or God's not willing. They... They went as far as to consider fucking exorcism, and it was all on Kiki, and her alone."

You thought for a moment he was going to cry, with the way his face scrunched up, but he kept going angrily: "I told them it could be biological, they told me she was cursed... I told them, maybe the problem was me, they insisted it was her... Until they finally needed proof that we were actually– You know–"

"God," You quietly gasped.

"I don't– We tried to break up, to end the madness, but they wouldn't listen. I had never touched Kiki other than kisses and hugs, while we were lying to them about– She was a virgin and so was I–"

He stopped for a brief moment when his horse whinnied, you were getting closer to the tall walls surrounding Jackson, then continued hesitantly: "She– finally got pregnant, after a whole year of deceiving them, but the stress of it got to her, I think. She... she miscarried." He gulped, closing his eyes tightly, an unpleasant look on his face. "You can imagine how it was received around the community– We had to run, you see, so we did."

You had reached the gates by then, it was Joel who was at the watchtower and waved at you as you waited for the doors to open. You waved back with a worried look on your face, which he must've spied through his binoculars. After bringing the horse into the stables and handing back your rifles, you stopped him. It was unusually quiet and empty around the southern gate, which was normally empty anyway: "Listen, I just wanna say–"

Before you knew it, a stuck gasp left him. His back was to you, so at first you thought he saw something, but as soon as you stepped to his side: "Ward," He was crying. "Oh– Hey, it's okay..."

He whimpered until he ran out of breath, covering his face with his hands. You didn't know how to react, internally panicking and carefully studying his body language, while feeling like a dick about it. You slowly and carefully put a hand on his back, and at the touch, he immediately collapsed by your feet. He was weeping now, and too close for comfort. You quickly looked around to see if anyone was there, only to find out not a single soul was in your line of sight, except for the slowly and suddenly approaching figure of your husband.

"Ward, get up," You lightly shook him by the shoulder to get his attention, but this only resulted in him leaning closer to your legs. You raised your head to see Joel had come to a stop a couple of feet away from where you stood: "Get. Up."

"You said– You said–" He struggled with trying not to cry and breathing at the same time.

"I said there is a group session if you needed to talk," You spoke, defeated, feeling Joel's burning gaze on your eyelids. "I'm sorry for what happened. I really am, but you need to get up."

He looked up at you to meet your stern, pitying gaze, then wiped at his tears. He nodded a couple of times and slowly got up, sniffling quietly. Without saying another word –even though he looked like he wanted to– and sparing you another look, he readjusted his backpack and walked away as if nothing happened. You stood there and watched him leave with your hands on your hips, then let out an exhausted sigh. You were just thankful that you weren't murdered for the most part, irked because of his sudden breakdown, but you also felt like shit scolding him as you did.

"You wanna tell me what the hell was that all about?" Joel. And he neither sounded pleased nor amused.

"You think I have an idea?" You gave him a hopeless look. "Man just– Suddenly told me the rest of his story and broke down, I don't–" Joel stood with his arms crossed, within your 6 feet radius, but there was nothing soft about it.

He was expecting an explanation, and an explanation he got: "That, Joel? That's what fucking scares me! I hear the shit they went through and I listen to it, waiting for the time he's going to get to the part where I did something to him or someone he cared for– waiting for the time they're going to shoot me or stab me– or you! And then they get like– like that, or do something nice to us, and suddenly I feel like an asshole because they're not bad people in the end, they just need some fucking help!"

You breathed heavily as your hands remained open at your sides after all the gestures and motions, your chest rising and falling very obviously as small sweat and tear droplets rolled down your face: "And they're seeking help in all the wrong places, from the most unsuitable people. I don't know about you, but I'm not mentally capable of taking their load while I have my own to deal with."

Joel took in a short amount of breath, as if to speak, but immediately closed his mouth. He stared into your eyes for what felt like 30 minutes, searching for something– you weren't quite sure what. He looked angry, upset, worried and heartbroken all in the same time.

Finally, when he couldn't speak, you added: "If anything happened to me, I could live with that." You spoke calmly, nodding curtly: "But if anything happens to you? I'll tear this whole goddamn town apart and make sure they can't find a place to hide from me."

Your fidgeting, unfocused eyes suddenly found Joel's hazel ones; you saw through all the anger, fretting and upset at that moment.

It was such an adoring, lovely gaze– Bit by bit, it drained you of all the hate and other ugly emotions pressing down your shoulders; a great sense of solace overcoming you as his big, warm hand cupped your jaw. He leaned in to steal the softest of kisses from your damaged lips– subconscious biting had seen to that, but Joel's softer ones made up for the loss on your side.

Before he could give you the chance to debate on whether you should hug him or not, he pulled back, his hand on your cheek still: "I won't let anything happen to you– To either of us. I promise you." You stared into each other's eyes for another moment, then he placed a most gentle kiss on your temple: "I made some dinner for you, go and eat for me."

You nodded, eyes lowering to the ground, then slowly walked away. Joel was quick to take notice of your broken stance– slumped shoulders, slowed steps and, ah, there goes the hand through your hair. He knew, then, that he had to put more effort into understanding how you viewed the couple and respecting your feelings. Sure, you were prone to worry and overthink, but so was he. Nothing, as far as he knew and had seen, had gotten to you like this before. Something ought to be wrong for you to beat yourself up over it as you did.

But despite everything –despite him still not seeing the way you saw the couple– you were, of course (and without question), his priority. He trusted you and your judgement, and it had always been so.

He just hoped it wasn't too late to show you that.

[1rintooru]

At Arm's Length

a/n: someone explain to me why i love making myself sadder with angst when i’m already in angst-mode???🤡🔫 decided to do smth wild and write some suna angst ✨

word count: 1230

summary: you reminisce on a potential situationship with our beloved pussy-banged Suna Rintarou💖

When you first met Suna, you initially didn’t like him. At all. There was something about his aloof and cocky demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way. Your first impression of him was that he was this arrogant rich kid chasing one high after the next. You never gave him much time or thought and for the most part your interactions were quite dry; it wasn’t like he cared that much either- he was constantly surrounded by people, even if that group of friends was broad and everchanging.

So, imagine your surprise when you couldn’t find your friends during your lunch break, only to spot a rare, yet isolated Suna. You contemplated ignoring him. You considered making a one-eighty and searching for your usual lunch-buddies. “That’s just cruel,” you thought to yourself as you begrudgingly made your way to his table. His attention broke from his phone once he saw you pull a chair out.

“Where is everyone?”

He shrugged, “I have no idea. I thought the same thing.”

A silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt peaceful and you couldn’t help but notice the shift in Suna’s demeanor as well. His intense, deadpan glare was replaced with something much softer and his eyes seemed warmer.

You were looking forward to getting a mouthful of your carefully made lunch, but you received an earful instead. What started out as pleasant small talk and him asking, “Have you heard of Lil Uzi’s latest single?” ended up in him going off on multiple tangents. Within 45 minutes you learnt about the meaning of life, the possibility and likelihood of aliens- which then led to him raving about Star Wars and reciting multiple lines from movies you’ve never watched and finally about how religion changed throughout history. Even without a mouthful of rice you wouldn’t have known how to properly respond to his rapid-fire theories but it didn’t matter. Suna’s eyes lit up in a way you had never seen before. He was glad that someone was finally listening to him.

After that moment in particular, you and Suna would conveniently end up near each other. Whether it was on your lunch break with the rest of your mutual friends or because you had been partnered together. He still held this aura of aloofness and didn’t seem to care too much about others but when it came to you, he became uncharacteristically soft-spoken and curious. You were spared from his blunt and sarcastic remarks that he usually aimed at his friends. He wouldn’t ask for your input to be polite, but because he sincerely wanted to know. If you offered advice, he would nod his head thoughtfully, taking the weight of your words seriously.

At some point in time, you two must have made the unspoken agreement to walk home together. Suna wasn’t notorious for being conversational, but that seemed to change when he was with you. You were surprised with how family-orientated he was. His eyes would light up and an immense pride bubbled through his voice when he spoke of his mother. He would complain about his little sister frequently, but his words were laced with so much love that it caught you off guard. “Oh my god, that brat looks like a clown,” is what he’d usually say.

You were convinced this man had short-term memory or that he’d been too heavy-handed with his green. He had a tendency to retell his stories or repeat an observation he’d already made or ask a question you’d already answered. Normally you’d find this grating after a short while, but you could hardly get mad when you knew you were one of the few who got to see this side of him. So, every time he showed you pictures of his mother, with the same enthusiasm and pride, you’d always respond equally as intrigued. You didn’t mind when he showed you his sister getting into their mother’s makeup for the umpteenth time. You didn’t mind how close he would get to show you the video on his phone. You didn’t mind how his hands would absentmindedly brush against yours. And you definitely didn’t mind the warmth that would bloom in your chest every single time.

You yourself felt prideful. Prideful that you had cracked the code of the mysterious and unassuming Suna Rintarou. It was in the way he would let his goofy side show around you. Cracking a history pun or making a movie reference that only you would understand since no one else cared enough to listen. It was in how he expressed his care. You were always kept up to date on the antics of his little sister and he somehow always knew when you were angry, even though you thought you kept a straight face. The way your eyes would always shyly meet and how your feet would always end up entangling themselves into another was no coincidence; especially not with how he spoke to you, as if the sound of his voice could break you.

You saw the real him. Those moments you did see the real him were brief and fleeting, but you embraced them wholly. Little did you know at the time, the two of you were more similar than you initially thought. You too, had let your guard down and showcased a much lesser known but equally important side to yourself. He made you feel different. His interactions with you made you special. You could’ve gone days describing him and how complicated your relationship was, but deep down you knew that the tugging of your heartstrings were a much simpler explanation instead.

After the both of you graduated, the two of you went your separate ways. Just like a phantom, he had vanished from your life completely. Overnight, a seemingly invisible string had been cut between the two of you. It hurt initially, but you were quite quick in moving on; you were busy in your new life, juggling a part time job and more school. Suna Rintarou quickly became a fond memory, though the lack of closure felt incredibly bittersweet.

It was an ordinary, albeit cloudy afternoon when you took the bus back home. You were absorbed in your phone until your attention moved to the two young men who got on at the latest bus stop. You were easily able to recognize one of the men from the way he walked alone and you felt a sense of giddiness. Your eager eyes scanned him intently before finally moving upwards and being met with an intense, deadpan glare.

He had forgotten you.

The silent joy you felt instantly dissipated as a wave of wistfulness washed over you. You weren’t even surprised, not when he looked at you as if you were a stranger because now everything made sense. You understood now why Suna was so popular. Everyone liked him for how he made them feel, yet he kept everyone at arm’s length; he was like the sun and everything else just orbited around him. As you snuggled into the back of your seat, you thought of how the man you hated in the beginning became the one you would cherish the most. You thought your relationship was special, but it was actually quite ordinary. You were not even a memory to him.

You thought he was the one. But you knew you were one of many.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est: Bonus

God Is Not a Woman (but He’s Plotting Anyway)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 2910

Summary: Bucky’s trying to fit into the Tower and some might be trying to make it easy for him. And then he drops the bombshell on you and things get even crazier than before.

Warnings: swearing, brief talk on religion, fluff, crack-ish humour

A/N: Admittedly, this is some kind of a strange one-shot of which I’m not sure it exactly fits, but… enjoy? 

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Things weren’t all sunshine and rainbows only. Bucky’s return to the world was… tough. You only knew little of what had happened to him through the decades, but it was enough of a horror story even without the details.

Bucky’s relationship with the team of Avengers was complicated too. Steve was as ecstatic and heart-broken as when you had popped up alive and that was all that needed to be said. Clint was a rather easy-going guy with a reputation of not judging people by their worst mistakes and as a man who had once been mind-controlled by an alien (…what?), he was willing to accept Bucky with a strange kind of sympathy.

As it turned out, Bucky and Natasha had actually crossed their paths before briefly, but once again, that was all you learned, both hers and his moments in the past too dark to share. Bruce was keeping his distance, more of a shyness than fear or disgust if you could take a guess and Thor was off the planet, not meeting the other supersoldier just yet.

Tony… Tony wasn’t fond of Bucky. He found a footage of another Winter Soldier killing his parents and while it hadn’t been Bucky himself, Tony’s hatred needed an out and despite trying, he simply couldn’t manage treating Bucky exactly nice. He still let him live in the Tower though, so that definitely counted for something; for a lot, actually.

There were many people with trust issues when it came to Bucky and that included himself – he didn’t trust his mind still, even with the mysterious man helping him and he most definitely didn’t forgive himself for the lives he had taken. The ghosts of his past haunted him at night, in his dreams the most. But he was slowly healing.

Steve was helping a lot, sometimes trying too much maybe, which was why the former assassin sought Sam Wilson rather than his best friends at times. He came to you occasionally too; however, he seemed to feel as if you were off limits, because you were Steve’s gal. He was gradually losing that stupid attitude though and his teasing side came out to play, making you blush becoming his new hobby. Exactly what you needed with all the mess happening around, i.e. the aftermath of your resurrection.

It took Bucky about two months to mention the name.

It happened casually, just dropping the bombshell no one had seen coming. Bucky was actually showing Steve how to upgrade the newest version of some software you weren’t entirely sure what was for; both supersoldiers had to do their fair share of adjusting and while for Bucky it often was people, for Steve it was sometimes… technology despite him being able to pick up on things very quickly.

Steve thanked him and for the millionth time, you heard the ominous sentence: “It’s good to have you back, Buck. Whoever that guy was, I’ll always be grateful.”

“He told me to call him Chuck.”

The words were simple, really, nothing out of ordinary for untrained ears. Except it had you both you and Steve choke on your own spit.

A frown appeared on Bucky’s face, confusion with a hint of alarm before he rolled his eyes at your antics. “What? I know, it’s kinda dorky-“

Yeah, that was not it.

A chilling suspicion crept up your spine and while it was not necessarily ominous, it sure as hell felt like the ground was shaking under your feet, proving you that a sense of control over your life was nothing but a ridiculous illusion.

“Steve? How about we make a phone call?”

Five minutes later, you were video-chatting with the Winchester duo, explaining them your concerns. Bucky was with you and Steve but didn’t engage that much since he never really met either Sam or Dean, rather wary of them.

A photo of a dorky looking man indeed, with cute dark curls around his head and a full beard, appeared on the screen, replacing the video-feed.

“Did he look like this?” Sam asked, tension audible in his voice. It still had nothing to the disbelief in Bucky’s.

“Yeah, that’s him,” the supersoldier confirmed, narrowing his eyes, which didn’t quite disguised how incredulous he was. “How did you-?”

“Is it… him?” you interrupted them, strange tingling sensation in your fingertips, light nausea tickling your stomach.

Was there any coincidence in his world left? What the hell did all of this mean? Was Steve just a lucky guy, God’s favourite, or… or was there a larger scheme, one you weren’t able to see just yet?

It reminded you of the talk you had had with Sam Wilson what felt like ages ago, about people having two soulmates, you coming back from the death and about things that were beyond your understanding happening more and more often. This might actually prove your silly theory right. Not to mention the fact that the death of Tony’s parents was delivered by another Winter Soldier, conveniently at the same time Bucky had been having troubles with the mechanics of his metal arm, hence not being suitable for the task – what were the chances of that?

It seemed that every single thing happening had played an important role in something, ending up with your trio sitting right here and now and… that was not a very comfortable discovery.

“Oh yeah, that’s God,” Dean hummed casually and when the picture disappeared, revealing the brothers again, you saw him take a bite of a cheeseburger as if this was a talk about the fucking weather.

“God?” Bucky parroted dully and you bit your cheek, feeling guilty for not quite having explained to him why you wanted to talk to the Winchesters and what had been your suspicion; now proved right.

“Yeah,” Sam supplied helpfully, only to have Bucky repeat the word as if he was testing the taste of it on his tongue.

“A god.”

“The God, actually. Our Lord is one of kind,” Castiel appeared on the screen as well, offering a small wave that you reciprocated, too shocked to say hi.

“Except he has a sister, apparently,” Steve stated, checking with the hunters and they nodded in approval. “So you’re not denying it? You think… ugh, that The Chuck saved him.”

You made a face at his wording, but… yeah. The Chuck. The God named Chuck had saved both Bucky and you. It was official. But why? What the hell was your life anymore?

How cute and bold of you to call your life yours, you thought darkly.

“H’d weed’l,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full and shrugged. With effort, you translated it into ‘heard weirded’, which was… fair.

“You think God, capital G, saved me. Why the heck would he do that?” Bucky spitted out exasperatedly, clearly not happy about the revelation.

Eh. Revelation.

Steve tensed at your side at Bucky’s doubts, but said nothing.

“Why not?” Sam questioned, offering a small smile. Dean remained quiet, while Castiel tilted his head, seemingly curious.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you think you deserve to be saved?”

“Yeaaaah, let’s not go there,” you interjected when you noticed Bucky’s chest heaving and words in Russian spilling from his lips soundlessly.  Steve sighed, but apparently assessed it was better to let Bucky deal with the facts alone first. “Thanks for confirming our suspicions.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asked, sounding adorably confused and guilty.

“No, Castiel. It is just a lot to take it.” Understatement of the fucking year. “Speaking of which – I have a question.”

“Shoot,” Dean encouraged you, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion as the corners of your lips twitched.

“When you told me about the, eh, lovely things that walk this world... you didn’t mention a scarecrow.”

“…huh?”

Their confusion seemed pretty real to you, but you had to admit you were probably being too vague. So you decided to ask a direct question.

“Alright, sorry. This might sound stupid, but… there was this series of books Jarvis found online? I wouldn’t think much of it, except the characters are named Sam and Dean, they do hunt monsters and if I’m being honest, they definitely do act like you. So I just thought… you know. Stranger things happened…“

During your ramble, the friendly faces of the brothers gradually twisted into a disgusted grimace and you had your answer, much to your astonishment.

“I swear, Sam, I’m going to murder Becky. I’m going to kill her and kill her dead,” Dean sputtered and Sam just closed his eyes, his lips a thin line. “I can’t believe you almost married-“

Wait, what? That sounded even more interesting that the books! Though kinda private. Then again, the books described Winchesters’ lives in awful detail as far as you knew. And ended when Dean literally went to hell, so…

“How much of that thing you read?” Sam asked tiredly, his expression screaming annoyance.

You shrugged. “Not much. Kinda changes the experience when you have a good reason to believe it’s all true. Clint’s hooked, though,” you admitted, hoping it wasn’t showing how much you were enjoying the teasing.

On one hand, this was hilarious. On the other, well…

“Did you sell your story to the writer?” you pried, simply out of curiosity. No judgement there; they had enough shit in their lives as it was, being short on money was not helping, so why not use what they got.

“No!” Sam blurted out too eagerly, then cleared his throat. “No. But you’re going to like this. Carver Edlund is a penname. I give you one guess on what his ‘real’ name is.”

You squinted at the screen, not following why Sam made the air quotes.

“No clue...?”

“Chuck Shirley,” Dean announced, grinning, somehow managing to balance smugness and annoyance on his face.

“Huh?”

“Wait—Chuck? Why do I think this isn’t a coincidence?” Steve stepped in, which caused your head to snap at him.

Surely, he wasn’t implying that-

“Oh yeah. It’s exactly what you think,” Dean assured you, finishing his burger while you and Steve remained silent, simply at loss of words. What…? “You know, when people say God works in mysterious ways, they have no friggin’ idea,” he added resolutely, wiping his mouth, balling his napkin and throwing it direction of what you assumed was a trashcan; judging by the disappointed frown on his face and the hands thrown up by Sam, he missed.

So. God was a writer.  

God went by a penname, writing about Sam’s and Dean’s lives to make his living at some point.

It actually made sense; this whole thing, the grand scheme you were thinking about earlier, it sounded awfully like a plot of a freaking novel. No, scratch that, not a novel – an epos about Steve’s life, with features of a soap-opera. You did not enjoy being one of the characters, but apparently you had no choice.

There was literally nothing that would surprise you at this point. Seriously.

“Great. I don’t think I actually wanted to know that,” you stated, shaking off your thoughts. “Anyway. How is your week going so far?”

“Wonderfully. We ran into Rowena again,” Sam announced, obviously happy to change the topic. “Well, I called her. Dean lost his memory.”

Dean what?!

“Because of a spell!”

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t change the fact you called a lamp a light stick,” Sam mocked him, but you could see the relief in his features when he was able to do that. Because that meant Dean was okay. After all, you were talking to him and he appeared as always; with no manners, grinning, bickering with Sam and with all the knowledge of the hunting world he needed.

Your eyebrows rose anyway. A light stick?

“Dude! It’s a stick that produces light,” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air animatedly. “I was still a genius.”

That made you smile; hundred percent Dean. Yeah, he was just fine, fully recovered.

“I’m sure you were, Dean. You okay now?”

“Yeah. The Wicked Witch actually used some of that soulmate magic to heal-“ Sam started and stopped when he saw Steve’s face – something you had no courage to look at, because you had kinda… you had been vague when it came what exactly the witch had done – mainly because you had very little knowledge of it. “-never mind. I guess he can just cross out ‘amnesia’ from his bucket list.”

“Mm. Not pleasant. Been there. Done that,” you mused, your expression no doubt as bitter and wry as you felt.

“Well, so did I,” Bucky supplied darkly, his first words since the big discovery of who had been his salvation.

Duh. Salvation. You really should start thinking about your choice of words. This was not funny at all.

“Me as well,” Castiel joined the club.

“I don’t think I have…”

“Maybe you just forgot,” Dean nudged Sam, offering a lopsided grin.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Why are you insulting each other…?” Castiel demanded, confused, and you laughed when Dean rolled his eyes, waving at you in goodbye, signalling to leave them be so they could explain the angel how humans worked sometimes.

You obediently ended the call, chuckling. They would have to visit one day – you missed them, despite calling them on a regular basis.

You eyed the two supersoldiers keeping you company in the common room, wondering what to do next.

“Alright. Now that we established we all deserve to be saved,” you stated, glaring at Steve, because you were aware of him questioning his survival of ice too – rarely, but still – and at Bucky, the man who had been frozen, unfrozen and mind-controlled, took lives against his will and had his own life taken away only to be rescued and question his worth.

“I think we know what we need now. Ice-cream!” you called out, raising your arms above your head theatrically, earning a chuckle from Steve.

“You scream?” Bucky looked at you, pretending to be confused.

“She does. Why would you scream, doll?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. They were lovely pieces of work when they teamed up to troll anyone. You were happy for it though, mostly for Bucky who was still struggling to adjust to his new life.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. We all scream, okay? What I’m saying is that we all scream for some ‘I scream,’ now give me my cookie crisp or I’ll show what moves Natasha taught me.”

You were not kidding. Natasha had learned you some basics of self-defence; Steve’s request, supported by you wholeheartedly. And by Tony. And Ryan. And everyone, to be honest.

“You should leave your moves for Steve to show only, sugar.”

“Ah, screw you, Barnes!” you spitted back, rising to your feet, and stuck your tongue at him.

“Such language! And again, I really think you should hide your tongue and do that only with St-“

You grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him towards the kitchen as Bucky’s snicker sounded behind you. You never even opened the freezer, parking your backside on the counter, tugging Steve for a kiss instead. He laughed at first, but reciprocated the affection, slowly melting into it.

“Your friend’s such a little shit,” you hissed, but giggled into his shoulder. You felt… full. Happy. Right. You didn’t want to think about grand schemes anymore. You wanted to live and you had every opportunity. You were not going to waste it.

“I know,” Steve hummed, his chest shaking with hushed laughter, and he kissed the top of your head, while he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, stepping between your legs.

“You got that from him.”

“I think it was the other way around.”

You huffed and looked up again, finding Steve’s brilliant eyes twinkling with mischief. It was as adorable as stimulating; he always had this look in his eyes when he was up to no good and it often resulted in it being very good for you, usually tangled in the sheets. Or pressed against a wall. Or a table. Couch. Counter…

You wrapped your fingers around his nape and he obediently gave up to the pressure, bowing his head to meet you lips.

“Doesn’t matter. Kiss me like you mean it,” you requested lowly and you knew, just knew, that he would never deny you, definitely not that.

“As you wish…”

You barely had time to truly sink into the kiss, a sweet and passionate dance of lips, teasing teeth and tongues when an exasperated voice of a man arriving to collect his ice-cream interrupted you.

“Guys! Come on! Not in the kitchen! We eat here!”

So would Steve, flashed through your mind, but you withdrew a fraction, Steve’s mouth having frozen on yours anyway.

“Shut your piehole and let me follow your own advice!” you called out.

“I hate you,” Bucky deadpanned and you sent him an air kiss, hopping off the counter to have another sweet treat instead. After all, it was ten in the morning and you were in the kitchen. You could talk Steve into taking a ‘nap’ later.

“And that’s exactly why they compare you to the grumpy cat memes,” you threw back at Bucky, basking in the mock-insulted face the poor supersoldier made. You had introduced him to the meme after Clint had mentioned it. It was glorious. And very fitting.

“Punk, get hold of your bratty gal!”

Steve just shook his head at the childish behaviour – both yours and Bucky’s – and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. A fraction of second later, he grinned.

“I was doing just that until you interrupted,” he pointed out while he was pulling out three spoons.

Your laughter and the slap of a high-five you exchanged with Steve was probably heard in the whole Tower.

You had no care in the world.

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S.R. masterlist

B.B.masterlist

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Just a silly fluffy thing maybe, but hey… I thought I could share... to fill the time till December meaning an Andy fic :)

Thank you for reading!

Also, the last instalment will be ‘What I’d Never Say and Do (If I Was in My Right Mind)’

[rametarin]

Getting into the weeds of an annoying conversation I’ve had.

Casually speaking to people that believe, very strongly, very hopefully, in life-after-meat bodies. And I don’t mean dietary, I mean, “escaping death by going cyborg.”

A lot of people wish to move their, “sentience,” out of their biological bodies and into a machine, because they do not want to die. Just, whatever it is that comprises their life, their existence, their essence, their metaphoric “soul,” they want to move it out of a vulnerable, mortal meat puppet and into an immortal machine. So as to avoid non-existence, entropy and death, if only long enough to witness the heat death of the universe.

And they get REALLY mad or huffy when you poke holes in their preferred method of immortality.

So they bring up the Ship of Theseus. “If you replace all the parts of a ship, is it even still the same ship anymore? :)” And argue that even you aren’t the you of 7-10 years ago. Owing to your sort tissue constantly replacing and replenishing itself, removing old cells, replacing them piecemeal.

So, they argue, based on that, slowly replacing a human brain little by little with cybernetics, or grey goo filler, should (to their logic) mean it’s possible to continue to exist, just slowly transfer from from a meat based consciousness and existence into a mechanical one.

And again, I argue, that’s not incorporating YOU into a robotic shell. That’s supplementing an existing body with an artificial one that is subserviant to your meat body, you. One that just is convinced, more and more, that it is you.

It would be you the same way that an alien devouring your brain from the inside and slowly replacing your brain with itself becomes, “you.” You can smugly smile and go, “well it has all my memories. It has my fingerprints. It lives in my body. It thinks and says it’s me. Therefore, it must be me.”

Except, no. YOU would be dead and your life and sapience, your existence, hollowed out and replaced by another just inheriting your body. An artificial life that is not part of the original biological blueprints of you.

Arguing that that’s somehow “transferring” your consciousness simply because our soft tissue regenerates and replaces itself, therefore, “we died within 8 years after we were born” is dishonest. As a biological organism, we exist as sovereign independent beings that are designed to do that, by natural selection. Our mortal bodies were designed to replenish and replace and maintain that through the generations of cell generation, death and replacement. So even if we do technically lose consciousness and whom we are die inside to be replaced with more of us, it’s still us. Objectively.

When you add artificial elements to that, like switching out dead braincells and brain wiring until the artificial and the natural are meshed up and virtually inoperable from one another, you aren’t making yourself into a robot. You’re just dying and supplementing what you’ve lost on a wetware, hardware and software level with mechanical stuff. You’re incubating a simulacrum in your brain, like athena from the head of Zeus.

Even if you were just a collection of the longest living cells in your body with a robotic brain wrapped around them, after a certain point, you just stop being you. At best you can argue where the line is between ceasing to be you.

I’d argue that you cannot store memory artificially about whom and what you are and take that function away from your biological brain, and still consider yourself you. The brain has many functions, and all of them are components of the real you. To even replace one of those wholesale with cybernetics is to lose some of your humanity. There will never be a time when you can just piecemeal replace your neurons and braincells wholesale with a robot and continue to exist.

That won’t be you anymore. It’ll just be the slow, inevitable march towards a robot that THINKS it’s you. It’ll be a copy born from a glacial suicide. You may as well have just scanned your brain’s patterns and structure and reproduced it by every nerve ending, memory and some sort of perfect sci-fi brain scan into a simulated consciousness in a robot.

The robot won’t be YOU, it’ll be a robot with a simulacrum of you. The same way a painting is not you. The same way your ass print in the snow, is not you. Just a sophisticated shadow of you.

Folks that dream of escaping death by transferring, “consciousness” out of their body and into a robot absolutely despise this line of thinking. They really tend to not want to die. So, they argue to defend it with resorting to misanthropy. “Life is just a series of amino acids and cells!” They tell themselves. “So it doesn’t matter if the thing that thinks it’s me, is actually biological! My biology doesn’t matter on whether I’m me!”

And it’s like. Bruh. Even if you cloned yourself, and to all human relevant metrics that clone could operate as you, it wouldn’t be you. Because you are still a sovereign and independent organism. That clone, not born from your mother, but a vat as a clipping of you allowed and shaped to become like you, does not have the same origin as you. Yes, it absolutely does matter, objectively, that the clone, while it possesses a large amount of your DNA, is still not YOU. You may be arguing that, “well science and other people can’t tell. :^).” That does not change the objective reality that it is not you.

The more they defend this braindead fantasy of going from human body to a robot, the more they betray what they’re willing to believe about what being a human is and is not in order to abandon it. The more they schizophrenically divorce their biology from what and whom they are, as people, as human beings.

And when you get to the point where you ask, “Oh what is sapience and sentience and individualism, anyway?” Then that says to me you don’t care about anything.  You’re just cowardly enough to not want to die. You’re just too stubborn and arrogant and egotistical to admit if you weren’t so convinced you had the intellectual and rational high ground, you’d be exactly like one of those braying sheep singing hymns in your religion of choice, praying that god or the universe itself won’t erase you from existence when you finally succumb to mortality. You damned self-deceiving coward. You self-delusional ninny. Milksop.

And this just absolutely matters, because this revelation of their value of human life, individuality and their own perception of what it means to be human, directly correlates into what they value when it comes to groups of humans relating to one another. Someone like that may speak high and mighty about humanity, compassion, but these are just egotist words and come purely from a place of faux-rational pride that they know the truth.

When the truth is, they pray at the altar of an idealized abstract, and not the reality of what a human is and does and is made of. They value the idea of all these little soulless meat robots working together as a sophisticated collective than they do the life of a single human being, seeing soul only in the net and gross, and not in the individuals or parts comprising it.

They’ll speak at length about “what people SHOULD” or “OUGHT” be doing for other people, while not giving a fuck about an individual. All their concepts of rights and privileges stem from the ideas of plurality, on the basis of being part of that set. Not based on individuals.

And after having had these conversations enough with the sorts of futurists, utopists, transhumanists, I feel confident in saying that if you also feel this way, I probably hate you. Seeing individual people as arbitrary random atoms floating around in space and time but seeing humanity, worth and relatable in groups of them? In the CONCEPT but then devaluing it by saying there’s no ���real” individiaulsim that can’t be cloned, or reproduced, and be the exact same as what exists? Somehow you try to insist you see things in the macro and the minutia when you’re completely missing both and focusing on what you project onto them or what you THINK you see based on your own biases. Often based on the HOPE and idealism of what you think SHOULD be real, or what you HOPE humans become.

So the sort of person to pray for robotic physical immortality and “ascending” past the flesh, tends to just.. flow into the sort of person that loves the idea of humanity, but despises any human being that is not on board with their idealized vision of what humanity should be, and will not tolerate people that are not on board with it.

This has become a bit of an acid test for me. Maybe it’s just on the same shitty level as asking a persons horoscope to learn more about them. I don’t know. But if you think a clone of you is equally YOU, if you think a scanned reproduction of you is the equal you to the real thing, just because of the difficulty of proving the objective truth and origins of both to third parties, then you’re probably the same sort of used car salesman type that tries to sell people on “social advancement” while not giving a shit how many people it harms or how much humanity it kills in the name of said, “advancement,” or “evolution.”

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 433

THE MAIN FACTORS IN THE SPREAD OF ISLAM: Part 2

A. J. Arberry has also pointed out that the reason for the spread of Islam is Islam itself and its religious values. (Aspects of Islamic Civilization, p.12)

He writes:

‘The rapidity of the spread of Islam, noticeably through extensive provinces which had long been Christian, is a crucial fact of history. The sublime rhetoric of the Qur’an, that inimitable symphony, the very sounds of which move men to tears and ecstasy…and the urgency of the simple message carried, holds the key to the mystery of one of the greatest catalysms in the history of religion. When all military, political and economic factors have been exhausted, the religious impulse must still be recognized as the most vital and enduring.’

Brockelman, who is usually very unsympathetic and partial, also recognizes the religious values of Islam as the main factor for the spread of Islam (History of the Islamic Peoples, p.37). Rosenthal makes his point as follows: ‘The more important factor for the spread of Islam is the religious Law of Islam (Shari‘a, which is an inclusive, all-embracing, all-comprehensive way of thinking and living) which was designed to cover all manifestations of life.’ (Political Thought in Medieval Islam, p.21).

Besides many other reasons which are responsible for the spread of Islam, it is the exemplary life-style and unceasing efforts of individual Muslims to transmit the message of Islam throughout the world which lie at the root of the conquest of hearts by Islam. Islamic universalism is closely associated with the principle of ‘amr bi’l-ma’ruf (enjoining the good) for Islam is to be spread by Muslims by means of ‘amr bi’l-ma’ruf. This principle seeks to convey the message of Islam to all human beings in the world and to establish a model Islamic community on a worldwide basis. The Islamic community is introduced by the Qur’an as a model community: We have made of you an Ummah justly balanced, that you might be witnesses (models) for the peoples, and the Messenger has been a witness for you (2.143). A Muslim or the Muslim community as a whole thus has a goal to achieve. This is the spread of Islam, conveying the truth to the remotest corner of the world, the eradication of oppression and tyranny and the establishment of justice all over the world. This requires the Muslim to live an exemplary life, and thus the moral and the ethical values of Islam have usually played an important part in the spread of Islam. Here follow the impressions of the influence of Islamic ethics on black Africans of a Western writer of the nineteenth century:

‘As to the effects of Islam when first embraced by a Negro tribe, can there, when viewed as a whole, be any reasonable doubt? Polytheism disappears almost instantaneously; sorcery, with its attendant evils, gradually dies away; human sacrifice becomes a thing of the past. The general moral elevation is most marked; the natives begin for the first time in their history to dress, and that neatly. Squalid filth is replaced by some approach to personal cleanliness; hospitality becomes a religious duty; drunkenness, instead of the rule becomes a comparatively rare exception chastity is looked upon as one of the highest, and becomes, in fact, one of the commoner virtues. It is idleness that henceforward degrades, and industry that elevates, instead of the reverse. Offences are henceforward measured by a written code instead of the arbitrary caprice of a chieftain–a step, as everyone will admit, of vast importance in the progress of a tribe. The Mosque gives an idea of architecture at all events higher than any the Negro has yet had. A thirst for literature is created and that for works of science and philosophy as well as for the commentaries on the Qur’an.’ (Quoted from Waitz by B. Smith, Muhammad and Muhammadanism, pp.42-43)

The tolerance of Islam is another factor in the spread of Islam. Toynbee praises this tolerance towards the People of the Book after comparing it with the attitude of the Christians towards Muslims and Jews in their lands. (A Historian’s Approach to Religion, p.246). T. Link attributes the spread of Islam to the credibility of its principles together with its tolerance, persuasion and other kinds of attractions (A History of Religion). Makarios, Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch in the seventeenth century, compared the harsh treatment received by the Russians of the Orthodox Church at the hands of the Roman Catholic Poles with the tolerant attitude towards Orthodox Christians shown by the Ottoman Government and prayed for the Sultans (T. Link, A History of Religion).

This is not the only example of preference by the followers of the religions for Muslim rule over that of their own co-religionist. The Orthodox Christians of Byzantium openly expressed their preference for the Ottoman turban in Istanbul to the hats of the Catholic cardinals. Elisee Reclus, the French traveller of the nineteenth century, wrote that the Muslim Turk allowed all the followers of different religions to perform their religious duties and rituals, and that the Christian subjects of the Ottoman Sultan were more free to live their own lives than the Christians who lived in the lands under the rule of any rival Christian sect (Nouvelle Geographie Universelle, vol. 9). Popescu Ciocanel pays tribute to the Muslim Turks by stating that it was luck for the Romanian people that they lived under the government of the Turks rather than the domination of the Russians and Austrians. Otherwise, he points out, ‘no trace of the Romanian nation would have remained,’ (La Crise de l’Orient).

The Muslims’ attitude towards the people they conquered is quite clear in the instructions given by the rightly-guided Caliphs: ‘Always keep fear of God in your mind; remember that you cannot afford to do anything without His grace. Do not forget that Islam is a mission of peace and love. Keep the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him) before you as a model of bravery and piety. Do not destroy fruit-trees nor fertile fields in your paths. Be just, and spare the feelings of the vanquished. Respect all religious persons who live in hermitages or convents and spare their edifices. Do not kill civilians. Do not outrage the chastity of women and the honour of the conquered. Do not harm old people and children. Do not accept any gifts from the civil population of any place. Do not billet your soldiers or officers in the houses of civilians. Do not forget to perform your daily prayers. Fear God. Remember that death will inevitably come to every one of you some time or other, even if you are thousands of miles away from a battlefield; therefore be always ready to face death.’ (Andrew Miller, Church History; Ali lbn Abi Talib, Nahj al-Balagha)

A historical episode which Balazouri, a famous Muslim historian, relates, tells about how pleased the native peoples were with their Muslim conquerors is of great significance

When Heraclius massed his troops against the Muslims, and the Muslims heard that they were coming to meet them, they refunded the inhabitants of Hims the tribute they had taken from them, saying: ‘We are too busy to support and protect you. Take care of yourselves.’ But the people of Hims replied: ‘We like your rule and justice far better than the state of oppression and tyranny in which we were. The army of Heraclius we shall indeed, with your help, repulse from the city.’ The Jews rose and said: ‘We swear by the Torah, no governor of Heraclius shall enter the city of Hims unless we are first vanquished and exhausted.’ Saying this, they closed the gates of the city and guarded them. The inhabitants of other cities–Christians and Jews–that had capitulated did the same. When by God’s help the unbelievers were defeated and Muslims won, they opened the gates of their cities, went out with singers and players of music, and paid the tribute (Futuh al-Buldan).

To sum up, although most Western writers, under the instigation of biased Orientalists of the Church, have alleged that Islam spread by the force of the sword, the spread of Islam was because of its religious content and values, and ‘its power of appeal and ability to meet the spiritual and material needs of people adhering to cultures totally alien to their Muslim conquerors’, together with some other factors. Some of these factors are the tolerance which Islam showed to people of other religions, the absence of ecclesiastic orders and hierarchy in Islam, mental freedom and absolute justice which Islam envisages and has exercised throughout the centuries, the ethical values it propagates, and Islamic humanitarianism, universalism and brotherhood, and its inclusiveness. Sufi activities, the moral superiority of Muslim tradesmen, the principle of ‘enjoining the good’, and Islamic dynamism and the magnificence of the Islamic civilization contributed of their own to the spread of Islam.

The main religious qualities which attracted people to Islam were:

(i) the simplicity of the theological doctrines of Islam based on the Divine Unity;

(ii) rationalism of the Islamic teachings;

(iii) the complete harmony of the Islamic ideals and values with human conscience;

(iv) the inclusiveness and comprehensives of Islam, covering all aspects of physical, mental, and spiritual life of individuals and societies, hence the harmony of religion and life which it established;

(v) the lack of formalism and mediation;

(vi) the vividness, dynamism and resilience of the Islamic theology, and its creativity and universalism, and its compatibility with established scientific facts;

(vii) the cohesion and harmony of the Islamic principles, and

(viii) the shortcomings of other theological systems.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Burial Rites

How religions and culture affect character choices and behavior has always been something that fascinated me, especially in shows and stories where such “small details” are painfully neglected. *Cough* Supergirl *Cough*. Just the little things that can cause massive butterfly effects, like the Kryptonian hatred of monarchy, something displayed with the daxamites but that would also have massive ripple effects on how Kara herself would interact with varying human civilizations and history. What does Kara think of the Queen of England, for example, or other non-monarchical, but also non-democratic dictatorships. Does Kara have the same disdain for Oligarchy that she has for monarchy? Is Kara one of those people who gets incredibly upset when someone says they don’t vote?

But one of the big culture and religious effects that I personally have always adored and played around with is how a sun god affects death and grieving rituals. We know from 1x14, that Kryptonians are sent to burn in their sun upon death, that a surviving female is supposed to lead these rites and that Kara knows how to perform it(this will be important later). We also know from the first season, but more in-depth the third, that Kara still practices her faith. (though that may be a strong word. How watching your world explode into a thousand tiny pieces as a child, and then being abandoned with aliens to be raised on a planet that despises your existence would affect your faith is a whole other essay). We also know from 1x14 that this death practice is incredibly important to the Kryptonian people. Non gives up his crusade for two weeks to observe the rites, a crusade he believes is the only salvation to Earth, and when questioned on whether or not Non will properly observe the mourning period Kara becomes very offended, saying “Do you think he is going to let his wife walk alone in the dark?”. The prayer for the dead also contains multiple allusions to bringing people home in the light and staving off darkness. 

This all brings me to the conclusion that, to a Kryptonian who worships a sun god, wouldn’t burial be the most horrific act to perform on the dead? We know from the 3x04 that Kryptonians can and do use candles and fire as a sort of replacement for sunlight. We can guess that pre-space flight Kryptonians would simply burn their dead. We know Kara doesn’t have a problem with humans burying other humans, we see her at funerals. But the real question I have is about Non. We don’t know whether or not Non survived the fight in the finale of season 1, but if he didn’t-- which I choose to believe because it’s more in-line with Kara’s character in S1, S2 and S4 (we are ignoring the utterly random and weird ‘wait i don’t kill people’ in S3 because it was random and weird) and, like, his eyeballs got blown up-- we never see Kara go through any kind of grieving rite. In season 1, Non begins the death rites within 24 hours of Astra’s death, and less than 12 hours after Non’s “fate”, Kara is home and having a party with her friends and family, and directly after that, Mon-El arrives. 

Sure, Kara could have just done the rites sometime when we weren’t watching but it’s just as likely that to her, Non no longer had the right to a Kryptonian funeral. Kryptonians had an honor based culture, and one where houses were everything. Non had done a bunch of, well, really shitty things, and had already been sentenced for murder and terrorism (a murder he actually committed even if the terrorism charge was less earned) before he arrived on Earth and attempted to murder his niece against orders (an action which indirectly led to his commanding officers death) and oh yeah attempted xenocide (not entirely sure whether to use xeno- or genocide here but they both work). If ANYTHING strips you of your right to honored rituals it has to be that. Beyond all of these things it is entirely up to Kara. A person who he 

A.) set a black mercy on 

B.) repeatedly tried to murder + her friends and family 

C.) forced the friends of whom to jump out a window, one of them to their deaths, 

D.) forced the sister of whom to try and kill her 

E.) had her martian friend stabbed and of course 

F.) tried to murder literally every friend and adopted family member she had.

After all of the pain he put her through, would it be so shocking then, that she chose to punish him for that the best way she knew how? 

Would it be so out of character that Kara sentenced the man who made her life a living hell to his own? Burying his body, and leaving him to rot in the cold and dark ground. 

Given how little Kara canonically discusses her faith and culture with others, even with Alex. Would anyone even know what she had done? And if Alex or J’onn did know, would they just not mention it and allow her the smallest of retributions for all that Non had done?

*******

This a headcannon of mine that has actually wormed its way into multiple of my fics, published and in progress, and one that I think invites thought. I might post more on how having a sun god would affect Kara’s perception of things (especially the phantom zone) but for now I hope people enjoy this.

tl’dr: Kryptonians probably hate burials, Non is a bitch, and Kara might’ve gotten revenge in a way most humans wouldn’t even recognize. 

[athanasia-ia]

Friend of the Devil - self para 2/?

tw: general content warning

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. No, you’re a mistake. You were always a mistake. A damned child. Her father’s words filled with resentment played on and on in her head for a good moment. If she were to believe what he’d told her, then she would never amount to anything. Irrelevant, replaceable, a waste of money, a financial burden - how many more phrases did he coin, it seemed, just for her?

Moon Yoojin hated her father. And she blamed him for all of it: for her suffering, for her addiction, for her poor choices in life. She did not care for her mother either. The two combined had made Hell out of her life, and tonight, in turn, she would send them to Hell; or so the story went. Yoojin did not believe in any God, she had never followed any religion. She had never acknowledged the potential existence of anything non-human. In fact, growing up, she secretly made fun of anyone who thought there was a higher power, sitting up there in the clouds, watching over their children down on Earth. How could there be? If there was someone up there, then why would they allow a child of theirs to suffer as much as Yoojin did?

Thus thought young Yoojin. So, why was twenty-four year old Yoojin standing at the crossroads, with shaky hands, holding a box, in expectation of...A prayer? A summoning? A chant? She was not sure what she was supposed to call it, really, but despite everything she had ever believed, she was now holding on to what little hope she had for retribution. For, if there was God, and Heaven, and demons and Hell, then Yoojin was the perfect candidate to ask for some justice - even if justice came from down below, and even if it meant a bloody revenge instead.

She felt hot. It was the middle of October, an unusually cold autumn too - but she felt hot. Wrapped in layers of clothes, she was shaking still, feeling as if someone had implanted a thousand, miniature ice cubes underneath her skin, causing her to tremble as she laid the box down in the hole she had dug at the forest crossroads. She had driven far away from the city, high on some new drug Senth had been able to get her. She had driven herself to the middle of a forest and found a perfect spot, despite the severity of drowsiness that was beginning to take over. Was it the drug that made her feel as if she was running a fever? Or something else? Whatever it was, it would not give her any peace and as she slowly read the chant she had clumsily scribbled on a piece of paper, her mind went back to that day, in high school, when she’d gone to the Circus in Seoul all by herself, and the leaflet she had found on the ground.

Back then, the leaflet was a mystery, a strange piece of paper with alleged words written on it in some alien language. A year later, the leaflet was forgotten in the bottom drawer of her desk. Another year later, it was all crumpled and worn out by time, carried around in her bag as Yoojin, homeless and seeking shelter, wandered the lonesome streets of Seoul in search for food, for drinks, for drugs, for love. Another two years had passed and the leaflet had been so worn out that one could barely discern anything on it, but soon enough, Yoojin stumbled upon an old story book, and within that story book she found a few symbols which were the same as the ones on her aged leaflet - and when she’s finally put two and two together, Yoojin realized that the leaflet was not an unavailing piece of paper, but rather a weapon she could use against all those who’d harmed her.

She did not tell Senth a word about her journey tonight. He was home, wherever it was that these days he - or the two of them - called home. She hoped that now - it was about to hit 3 am - he was asleep, underneath layers of blankets, dreaming of a better life. For both of them. She hoped that he would not wake and look for her, because she knew tonight, she would not answer his calls. Tonight had to be done. And when the chant was done, Yoojin knew it was too late. A rustle in the treetops, a gust of wind, a drop of temperature - she had felt it all and knew, somewhere deep down, that it was all true.

Yet, she did not genuinely believe until she heard footsteps, and when she turned to look behind her, she found a person standing some dozen feet away from her. It would not hit Yoojin until much later (the next day, really) that she had no idea what this other person, or thing, truly looked like, but at the moment when it was happening, she was certain that it was a woman - or at least something that had a feminine figure. It, or she, was taller than Yoojin, just as slender too - though that was as much information as her eyes and brain could truly process and make sense of. It appeared that the creature had small ears, and ram-like horns growing out of the tops of the ears and the sides of the head, spiralling to the back. It also appeared it had a small face, almond-shaped burning orange eyes, and a skin tone of an unusual shade of grey.

What was it? Who was it?

“We don’t have all night.”

The creature’s voice took Yoojin aback. It was not a voice she had ever heard before, and yet it reminded her of something. And when the creature came closer and Yoojin could see its face better, she struggled with making any sense of it. She felt uncomfortable from looking at it. In fact, the longer she stared the more nauseous she felt, but she was unsure what it was that made her react that way. For all she knew, she could have been looking at something extraordinarily beautiful. Later, in the relative comfort of Senth’s and her room, Yoojin would realize that the creature had only an imitation of a human face - it was all there, two eyes, a nose, chin, prominent cheekbones, eyebrows and plush lips, but none of it fit right. If one were to describe it best, it was as if someone who was great at drawing but had never seen a human face in their life was told to draw a female face. They were given the basics, but no soul, no essence.

“What do you want?” the creature asked.

“I.” Yoojin tried, but she could not speak. She was not afraid. Strangely enough, a skeptic all of her life, she was not given proof of something beyond, and she was unafraid. She was oddly unperturbed, and yet she could not speak.

“Your parents?” the creature spoke. It lifted a hand and ran its talons through its thin, dark hair. “Yoojin, have you made up your mind? Are you ready to play a game with me?”

“A game?” Yoojin managed to ask. How does it know my name?

“I know everyone’s name,” the creature replied. Then, its mouth stretched, both corners lifting in a toothy grin. Only, it had no teeth. There was nothing in there, except for unadulterated darkness, the kind of darkness that invited one to get closer, so that it could devour one whole. “So, how about it? Shall we play a game of cards, Moon Yoojin?”

“I…” Yoojin’s heart skipped. “Y….Yes.”

The darkness which once resided only within the creature now began to spread. Oozing out of every orifice on the creature, it consumed the world around them, sucking out whatever was Earthly or human out of their surroundings, imprisoning Yoojin in another plane that could only be described as a wasteland. The sky had gone black and vermilion. The outlines of the sky were burning red, and lighting up with strange veins of throbbing light. The air had become saturated, with humidity, and sweat, and dust and something musky, like the earth after a spring shower.

“Take a seat,” the creature said. “My name is Athanasia. If you can win this game, Moon Yoojin, I will make anything come true.”

[dangermousie]

I just loved this shot. I actually notice how often he is below her image (or her real self) looking up, which is such a key to the dynamic. It’s especially interesting because normally he is head and shoulders taller than she is so it has more of an effect. 

The thing I loved throughout the ep was that even as he couldn’t remember her outside her comic role, he was confused and bothered by her and just as the first time, she was the key to his self-awareness, she is the key this time as well - he became self-aware so far on this go around precisely because she was around, making him feel what his character is not supposed to feel, waking him up. He may be the only one able to change the story, but she is the only one who can wake him up so he’d do so. Talk about entwined. (Also, her little sad smile as she wants him not to remember her - my heart.)

Has anyone else been feeling that Haru has slowly been replacing Kyung within the narrative as well - it’s another example of story being bent due to the sheer force of will of the characters and trying to right itself somehow. Here, the classmates expect Kyung and get Haru, Haru now has girls swooning over him, he even throws the ball like Kyung. 

The real Haru is beginning to leach through more and more as the episode progresses - even when he doesn’t remember her, opening bottles for her is far cry from “don’t touch my shirt when you talk” Haru of his first moments past mind wipe.

OK, it’s official - Squid Fairy knows the madam somehow; I wonder if she was in the past comic.

This bit, with the smirk, gave me chills. Ju Da is becoming self-aware and she is nowhere near as maudlin nice as her fictional counterpart. I love it.

Also, she clearly likes Do Hwa in the shadows - look at her watching him practice or sadly staring at his picture on her phone. I actually like what EY is trying to say here, same as with Haru v Kyung - outside of a dramatic fictional set-up, why would any sane woman prefer a jerk to someone who treats you very well and is overall a wonderfully nice person?

Guess who else is self-aware! Kyung’s brother. I love the concept of pretty much everyone becoming self-aware eventually and the world descending into chaos.

This was kind of insane. He doesn’t like her with Kyung though on a conscious level that makes no sense for the character - you can see the programming and the real basically fight each other (and so he grabs Kyung’s hand as if he’s jealous of Kyung as some sort of a weird programming compromise.) 

Oh, Do Hwa. He is literally the nicest character in this drama - he cares for Dan Oh and Haru, he loves Ju Da expecting nothing in return, he even loves his oblivious programmed friend Nam Joo. He is a lesson in how to be selfless - but then so are Dan Oh and Haru as well - they put the happiness of the person they care about higher than their own. Meanwhile Kyung watches like an alien from another planet.

Yeah, you know that selfless gene? Kyung has whatever the opposite is. The scene where he had Haru bring flowers for him to give to Dan Oh - brutal. And some sort of perverse revenge for what - Dan Oh acting the way the author wanted her when she didn’t have control? Dan Oh not enlightening him (which why and how could she.) Awake Kyung is still a terrible person, even if more lowkey realistic one. It’s pretty clear he cares for Dan Oh insofar as he’s able to care for anyone, but he is incapable of a healthy, functional relationship or attitude. PS He’s also not that bright - doing all of that would make Haru self-aware faster.

Even memoryless, personality-changed Haru keeps this basic tenet of him because it’s at his core.

Haru mark 2 yells! And is emotional.He is much less quiet than his Haru mark 1 counterpart; probably because Haru mark 1 was almost mute and shellshocked by his experience and this one is not. I also love that he is confused and it bugs bugs bugs him to see Dan Oh treat him as a stranger and he has no idea why. And yes, he is self-aware now, in some record speed! Oh, and back to his staring up at her.

Oooof. This hit hard. It’s such an exploration of free will and reality and I cannot even imagine what a mind trip it would be to not even know if your basic memories, your basic sense of self and world is real - that even off stage you are made by memories and experiences that were not only controlled by another but that may not have existed at all. Real Kyung is still not fully so and can never be so because his personality has been shaped by events that never even happened, since I am sure there was no childhood portion in the manga. Does Do Hwa like Ju Da in the shadows because his character was made to like her on stage in the story and the feelings carry over and are a basic part of his personality now, even in reality?

This! This! Shivers. It reminds me of concepts like “how do I know this world is real and I am not just imagining it in my head; there is no way to prove it.” Or “how do we know the past actually happened and it’s not just a memory our brain made up and the whole world is just this moment; just in your head.” And, as I mentioned to @theseasasleep​, while the drama didn’t intend it, it made me think of predestination in Calvinism and how that concept always freaked me out - most other religions or branches of them allow the concept of free will and your ultimate fate changing depending on what you do, but Calvinism is like the world of EY - everything is predestined and predetermined - your character and ultimate fate and so what you do doesn’t really matter. I always wondered how the followers did not descend into nihilism and chaos (yes, good earthly fortune was supposed to be a sign of God’s grace but it wasn’t really necessary; and in its extreme, you could murder five people every day and still go to heaven since it was predetermined before you were born.) And in another thought about how much free will people have - people in RL have choices but so many of their choices and their reactions to choices are predetermined for them - by their circumstances, their upbringing, their very DNA. It’s more free will than in EY, but how much more? 

Final thought - EY is so smart and so good and gave me so much pleasure that I honestly don’t care if it sticks the landing; which is the same I felt with W and Queen In Hyun’s Man (I thought the latter stuck it perfectly, the former wobbled though I liked it anyway, in part because I just wanted Dong Chul to be happy after his hell of a life, and in part because I thought the concept was that once you became fully actualized and escaped authorial control, you were a real person and so moved to the real world.)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are space Orcs, “The Cult”

Alright everyone, I first want to apologize for being so tardy in my posting. But thanks to @fiuxc0re for the idea, I got something done for you. It was a great opportunity to set up another idea that I’ve had in the works for a few months now. I hope you all like it and I hope it was what you were looking for. 

Each species is different…. Thousands upon millions of minds making up the soul of the galaxy, each species more divergent than the other, yet somehow so similar, like looking at a fractured image through a prism, so strange. Through all my years traveling across galaxies, links on a chain around the neck of the universe, I have found one thing that links them all…… religion.

Not, perhaps, in the way that you are assuming, for you see each species is so different that to compare their belief systems would be like comparing a grain of sand to a beating heart. You see perhaps a better word would be belief. The Rudi believe in law, law is their religion bureaucracy is their god, and contracts their bible in cannon. The Vrul on the other hand have their science, they have fact and logic and truth sometimes completely at odds with the bureaucratic system of the Rundi. Then there are the Tesraki with their economics; god being compared to the all mighty dollar, saints replaced by those with good business sense.

Of course there are other examples, probably more familiar to you, The Drev and their spiritual naturalistic religion held up by the fiery warlike spirits of the volcanic mountains. Strange that humans can be altogether so similar and so different. Each species is known to have one religion, one belief system that defines them whether it be logic or science, but man, he can find or make his gods. Like the Rundi his religion may be law, or perhaps he subscribes to science, the knowledge of things that are only seen, but perhaps he looks to something he cannot see, but feels on the inside. Man does not ask your permission to believe, does not follow his brethren. For thousands of years man has evolved changed where the other species have not.

Suppose it makes sense that a human would be the one to bring out change in the rest of the universe weather knowingly or not.

***

Commander Vir stood at the helm of his ship staring out into the vast darkness of space, a darkness split only by the serene polished globe of the Tvek home world. Despite the quiet serenity the glassy planet seemed to portray, something wasn’t quite right. He had received a transmission from the chairwoman of the galactic assembly not days ago about strange behavior being exhibited by the Tvek.

They had stopped answering calls from their galactic ambassador, and when they did, they spoke nonsense. Something about preparing for something important being too busy, needing to please someone. Who that someone could be, they had no real idea. As un-advanced as the Tvek were, the galactic assembly worried that some outside influence was pushing them into their strange ways. As far as they knew this sort of behavior wasn’t particularly normal for the Tvek species.

Commander Vir turned to the intercom and called down to the docking bay where three teams of marines had been ordered to ready themselves under the watchful eye of Sunny. He planned to set out in three strategic locations across the city close enough to meet up but far enough not to be caught in the same trap if something had been laid out for them.

He handed off the bridge to his second in command and made his way down to the docking bay, there was no telling what they were going to find, and Commander Vir had a strange feeling that whatever it was wasn’t going to be good.

And if there was anything he had learned, from other aliens about humans, ironically, human instincts were some of the best in the business.

***

They arrived planeside just as the star was cresting over the horizon, delicate rays of white light rolled across the glassy stone and out onto the strange rose-tinted trees. The downy fluff that had lingered in the air the last time he was here, was conspicuously missing, likely out of season for this type of plant. On first inspection, there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with the not-so-distant city.

Though the Tvek weren’t particularly advanced, and nor were they exactly topping the intelligence scale, they were known to be industrious craftsmen. Art and beauty lay at the center of their planetary culture with their sweeping buildings and winding marble pathways laced with delicate veins of blue.

One of the marines crouched close to the ground flicking down a set of expensive looking goggles as he stared towards the city. Commander Vir knelt next to him, “See anything?”

The marine frowned, “No organic heat signatures, sir.”

“None at all?”  

The marine shook his head and flipped up his goggles adjusting his weapon against the crook of his shoulder.

Commander Vir whistled once, and the group of marines fell quickly into formation, a wide wedge shape with one man on point. The commander himself fell to the rear center of the formation where Sunny waited.

With an agile leap, he pulled himself onto the buddy pegs and primed the machines gun to fire. Sunny tilted her head back to look at him, “See anything?”

Commander Vir shook his head, “No organic heat signatures, and for an entire city, I find that more than a little worrisome.” He patted her on the shoulder as the marines began to move forward, and she followed after them, her footsteps surprisingly light over the stony terrain.  He kept one hand on the machine gun eyes sweeping across the landscape as he reached up for the com on the side of his helmet.

“Bravo, Charlie, status?”

There was a moment of silence before, “Bravo, all quiet here, sir thought we aren’t detecting any organic heat signatures.”

“Same here, how about Charlie….. Charlie come in….. Charlie.”

“Here sir, here….. But….”

“But what?” Commander Vir demanded. They were just beginning to head down into the city, cutting at a diagonal down the ridge. Sunny jolted and rocked dangerously a few times as loose stone rolled under her feet. Vir did his best to keep balance on her back as she moved.

There was silence over the other side of the line for a long moment, and then, “You just have to come see it sir, you’re not gonna believe it.”

***

There was complete silence, awed silence, shocked silence as the three teams of marines stared, looked away and then stared again sure there eyes were deceiving them, but no, it was still there, “Commander, is that?”

“It can’t be.”

“I think it is?”

Commander Vir stood at the center of the city, a place he had been only twice before, the first time when coordinating the stabilization of the planet’s core, and the second time when returning to invite the Tvek into the galactic assembly. He could still see it, the scar that the machine had left on the landscape as the core was stabilized. And right on top of that spot, on the scar, there it was.

It was at least ten feet tall made from, what appeared to be, polished white marble set with jade and other precious stones, “No….. I it has to be something else.” He muttered dropping down from Sunny’s back to examine the statue. The Drev followed close behind.

“I don’t think so Commander. That is definitely you.”

Commander Vir tilted his head upwards from the base of the statue confronted with a surprisingly accurate likeness of his own face. Though it was made of stone, It still gave the impression of short spiky hair. A single eye socket was set with Jade stone while the other was covered, as it would have been, with an eyepatch. From the head, the stone flowed downwards into his shoulders, chest, and clothing setting him in a particularly heroic position atop the base stone. The mechanical features of his leg were rendered in loving detail down to every last screw and pin that could be seen from under his clothing. The way the cloth of the folds fell over his body was such that, he almost expected the statue to step forward and begin speaking. The face was of an expression he was sure he had never made before.

It was the benevolent, and cold distance of an uncaring god or angel, warlike, but beautiful.

“The actual hell?” One of the marines muttered.

At the base of the statue one of the marines had knelt rubbing her hand across the stone, “it has an inscription….. Anyone here speak Tveki?”

From the back of the group one of the marines raised a hand. The group turned to look at him with slight surprise, “Ramirez, since when?”

The man shrugged and moved forward with a shrug and a slight blush, “It’s not a hard language to learn, though I only have a working understanding. I can’t speak it, but I can read it.” The other marines stepped out of the way as he knelt to cast his eyes over the flowing script.

Commander Vir stood simply staring at the statue, and the surrounding stone. He hadn’t noticed this before, but now he could see that the surrounding marble was absolutely piled with objects….. what he would have guessed were offerings if he didn’t know better. Leaning down, he reached out to pick one up, turning the small dog statue over and over in his hands. It was Waffles for sure, but not in the way he knew her, whoever this artist was, they had chosen to make her fiercer than he would have assumed. There were other little human statues too thrown in with the occasional Drev, one of Sunny made out of polished blue stone. Among the statues he could see other “offerings” small strips of cloth, bowls of dried food and so on.

“What the actual hell.” The earlier marine muttered again.

“For the savior from the sky may his glory call out through the ages.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Well I mean they aren’t wrong.” He gave a sheepish grin as the group of marines turned to look at him eyebrows raised more than a little unconvinced. He waved a hand, “Just kidding…. Despite how weird, or cool, or sort of disturbing this is, we should probably go back to our earlier mission, to figure out where these guys went….. and if THIS is related.”

“Would his highness like us to split up?”

“Shut your trap Ramirez, and I want us to spread out, keep your neighbors in line of sight at all time, not to close but not too far away, move out!”

He remounted the machine gun mount, suffering through Sunny’s sarcastic sidelong glances. How the hell she managed to do that when her face was practically a beak he would never know. But the more pressing concern came from the immediate issue of the missing Tvek, and the supposed statue. He supposed he could have understood if this was about him saving their planet, not that it had been him alone. It had taken the entire crew working in tandem to do that, he had just supervised, but there was evidence of…. Worship….. paying homage.

No, all of it just sounded too weird, there had to be some better explanation.

“Commander I have noises maybe 50 yards southeast of my position coming from inside one of the buildings.”

“Alpha team move up! Bravo, Charlie, make a perimeter.” He ordered over the com gently adjusting the muzzle of the machine gun to a more ready position. Sunny turned with the order and began moving into position. They weren’t too far off when he could begin hearing the noises. It was strange, almost rhythmic but…. Not quite. Almost like when a large crowd starts clapping in unison and as they clap faster and faster and faster the beat suddenly fractures into a hundred clapping hands unable to keep time with each other.

Two Charlie team Marines were at the entrance to the building stacked up on the door which was just barely tall enough to comfortably fit a person of around five feet tall. For this reason the marines were crouched awkwardly, not as far down as they could, but not comfortably upright either. Commander Vir patted Sunny on the back, “Sorry Sunny, there’s no way in hell we are fitting you through that door.” She sighed, but let him down falling back to join the marines as he moved forward towards the door. Alpha team moved up behind him, and he stacked up on the back of the group.

He patted the marine in front of him on the shoulder and the gesture moved its way up the chain. The marine on the far left slowly reached out to open the door from which noise began to swell upwards and outwards, still almost rhythmic, but not quite there yet, just a cacophony of sound.

Slowly, one by one, the marines began to file into the hallway crouching low against the short ceiling clutching their weapons at the low ready. Commander Vir moved in second to last unable to see the hallway ahead, but he could hear the sounds swelling upwards like the room ahead was large and spacious. The marines were almost silent against the stone floor, but still he could hear the voice.

“Holly shit….” The voice trailed off, and the line of marines stopped moving. The muttering began from the back forward.

“What.”

“What’s going on?”

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Commander Vir found himself stuck in a cramped dark tunnel pressed between two hunched marines. He was jostled from back to front before the line began moving again, and the group of them spilled out onto a catwalk overlooking a large room. It would have been a little presumptuous to call it a chapel, but that is the distance feeling he got from looking. The room was at least three stories high, and as wide as a concert hall. Thousands of Tveki citizens stood at the bottom in loose rows, and at the very pinnacle of the room, carved into the rock was a massive effigy of his ship stretching up towards the ceiling. The noise he had heard from earlier turn out to be the Tveki. Looking down on them it seemed as if they were all trying to sing, and not only that but the tiny grey creatures had….. done something to themselves.

Where there skin would have been grey, they had applied a confusing pallet of creams and browns, where they wouldn’t have worn clothing before, they were now wearing strangely crafted robes in the crude imitation of pants and shirts. Atop their heads they were hats made of woven fibers styled to look like….. hair?

At the front of the room, the leaders of this congregation stood, and even from here he could tell they were much taller under those robes than they were supposed to be, and figured out the issue rather quickly when one of the robed “priests” walked forward down one of the elongated isles causing the bottom of what must have been, stilts, to peep out from under his uniform.

They were a strange and unusual recreation of the human form, warped and unsure. The statues at the front of the chapel mirrored the ones that he had seen given as offerings but much larger. He recognized himself, at the very center atop the highest plinth, behind him and to either side were Sunny and cannon, and to his immediate right and left the other humans that had been present during the meeting.

Turning his head in a wide circle, Commander Vir did his best to take in the entire scene around him noting strange symbols carved into the stone at odd intervals. He saw a caution symbol right next to a bio-hazard symbol and a fire warning placed next to each other like they were intended to indicate some sort of meaning. Under that he recognized a row of familiar Latin letters, but in no particular order, and in no perceivable pattern his brain could detect.

Looking down He watched as the strange little creatures toddled about in accompaniment with the priest, and he realized at that moment that that noise he had been hearing was their attempt to sing. The strange toddling motions in which they walked turned into unnatural jerky bursts making them look more like spiders than it made them look human.

Commander Vir motioned the marines to stay low as they watched on in fascination, and a mountain sense of unease. They were even there for the “sermon that took place during the intervening time between singings.

Praise to the old ones that have lifted us from the eternal darkness, praise to them with their lives so long, praise to the savior of our planet and our progeny. Praise to the gods incarnate and always remember the souls hidden behind their eyes, cosmic beings in pupae form.

Praise brothers and sisters, for we know something no one else knows and will except. We see the humans, the way they have saved us, what they have done for us. We see their power in the way they move and in the way they speak, unruled by their emotions, unchained by our needs. With lives so long may death only pass them once in a great while and may their power protect them from harm. Let their passion and empathy continue to run deep as do their souls, let them lead at the forefront of this great age. Brothers and sisters we have pondered the great texts of their scribes and the scribes of those that came before us, and we see them for what they are. We have seen the souls trapped behind their eyes gods in pupae form.

The crowd chittered and roared in answer. Commander Vir frowned. That last part sounded eerily familiar, and he didn’t like where this was going.

Praise be it to the great savior of our planet, whose name shall not be spoken but in greatest reverence, bless the rocks on which his blood was spilled and curse those that showed him harm for it is he that showed us the path to enlightenment, so ancient and wise.

Commander Vir had seen enough, he patted one of the marines on the back, and slowly, together they began moving back through the tunnel listening quietly as the sermon continued onwards, extolling the virtues of humanity, with an undercurrent of personal worship to this ‘planetary savior.’

The rest of the marines hardly believed them when they returned, and neither did the GA at first, but upon seeing the images and the recordings, their skepticism was silenced, and their worry rose up. Commander Vir had been right when he recognized some of the propaganda being spouted by the priest. It actually came from the published work of a scientist whose trial Vir had been present for. The scientist had strived to discover the true meaning of humanity, and in so doing killed many people. Doing his journey, he claimed that you could see a human soul through the eyes, and, personally, see the dead soul itself when it retreated from the body.

It was all very troubling seeing that that particular study had been recanted by the Galactic Institute of Academics not only for its poor scientific method, but for its outrageous ethical violations.

Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to invite the Tveki into the assembly just yet. If they weren’t advanced enough to understand when a study was falsified, how could they be allowed to contribute…. Not only that, but humanity wasn’t ready to know about this. If Vir knew anything, he knew the easy pride of his own race and the potential corruptibility of himself as well. They were venturing into dangerous territories and this so called “Cult of Vir” which the marines had jokingly called it, had more sinister undertones than he liked to admit.

[shittylifeprotips]

LPT: Tell people the truth rather than what they want to hear because this will make them hate you, they will blame you for facts and truth being contrary to what they want to hear

Seriously. Humans are awful, more so due to this than anything like murder, violence, crime, etc. Any time the truth is contrary to what people want to believe, they will readily condemn you and attempt to socially execute people. Every single person is like their own fucking gestapo or KGB trying to kill anyone who is somehow a threat to their own delusions. There's no room for debate, there's no capacity to even fathom the reality that their pitiful, self-righteous, and self-serving delusions are problematic and irreparably flawed. This was my original idea. "If you are an alien, steal a bunch of fighting and guard dogs, then fill an alien ship full of them, have that ship land on the planet, open the doors, and let the people go inside just to be attacked by regular dogs" I don't think that's really a "shitty idea" though. Would be pretty fucking great to see these humans think aliens arrived just to have dogs attack them. Like dogs somehow build this interstellar ship. If humans ever try to steal the technology in the ship it would just kill them. Preferably it just cripples them and lets the dogs kill them. Fuck people. Really can't stand the fucks. Every one of them is a fucking spoiled child. The liberal party are all Karens demanding free shit they believe they are entitled to for the "poor service" they recieve in a country with the highest standard of living, the conservative party are all hypocritical illiterate sacks of shit that can't understand the Bible. The summary of the bible to them is "Jesus gives you a free ticket to heaven". Jesus isn't even a valid religious figure by the secular standards that define religion, which is a means to indoctrinate people into moral behavior. The forgiveness of Jesus has created a godless paradice of vice-worship in the West, all sin is "forgiven" meaning that all morality has disappeared. God literally tells you 100 times to stone literally everybody to death and destroy all the fucking heretics. Jesus says "Lol fuck all of the laws and shit I'm giving out free tickets to heaven." Not really, but that's what it's been corrupted into. The teachings of Jesus only apply to powerless people. If you are in charge of orchestrating society, you need to refer to an old testament. Governing with the advice of Jesus is like taking the book "Homeless Joe's tips for survival on the mean streets" and arguing that these tips are how we should govern a fucking country, rather than "How to Govern Society: by God" I have nothing against vice-worship, but don't pretend that this is somehow "Good and moral", it's self-serving antisocial hedonism, and it's fine, but don't fucking convolute this with fucking morality. Jesus made "Religion for idiots", and the free tickets to heaven were just the signing bonus because he needed to make sure he got some people. Objectively, the religious value of Jesus according to secular logic is that he tempted people into spreading the Bible with the promise of free tickets to heaven. They didn't understand anything, but they still spread the book full of all of the functional laws like wildfire. This was necessary because the Jews at the time were corrupt according to Jesus (per the cleansing of the temple). We need to replace public schools with speedballs so you fuckers will just be shooting up all day rather than attempting to formulate some of the most jarringly dysfunctional opinions and ideals the world has ever fucking seen. People fail to understand statement "Just because you want something to be true, doesn't make that thing true in the slightest". Seriously they just think "I want this thing, therefore I deserve this thing for free" It's fucking shameless. I'd rather give heroin to junkies, because at least they bear the burden of their own poor decision making and hedonism. They collapse their own veins with their addiction, while both sides of modern politics all just seek to collapse the fucking economy with their promotion and tolerance of antisocial fucking junkie habits. If I'm going to suffer because society is full of hedonist quality of life junkie addicts, then I may as well be shooting up fucking speedballs right now. Get those fucking socialized speedballs so we can all fucking die. That's the pinnacle of Western idealism, where we all just kill ourselves with fucking street drugs because fuck society, fuck the world, fuck anything beyond our own short-sighted, destructive, self-serving hedonism. Life is pain, the reason life is painful is because pain compels you to work. Without feeling this pain, without having this pain compel you to work, you don't qualify as life any more than the corpse of a fucking junkie rotting on the fucking street. No offense to heroin addicts, they're like the Western electorate, just way less shitty. Heroin addicts actually know how to destroy themselves in exchange for pleasure, and they don't put half as much fucking burden on the country as the god damn idealist, humanist, quality of life addicts chasing that fucking dragon until the fucking Western world collapses. You're a fucking animal, no better than a cow or a chicken. You don't deserve anything more than these fucking animals. If you're thoughts, feelings, pain, or other sorts of subjective problems are bothering you there is a very available solution to this shit. Suffer so that you will work, or just die. Take your fucking pick.

[writingquestionsanswered]

This may be a stupid question, but I'm having trouble coming up with swear words/exclamatory phrases for fantasy and/or futuristic worlds without religion. Like "oh my god" or "damn it" or "holy sh*t" or "what the hell"... I've no idea how to replace phrases like that with no religious influence, without them sounding cringey and forced. Any advice?

Coming Up with Swear Words in Fantasy

One of the best things you can do is come up with two or three different religions for your story’s world and figure out swear words from there. You don’t have to go really in-depth into developing these religions, but just knowing how many gods they worship, gender of the gods, what the gods are named/called, and what the gods represent can help you figure this out. You can play somewhat off swear phrases in our world, too. Like, maybe one religion has a goddess called “The Sweet Mother.” So maybe a swear phrase could be, “Holy Sweet Mother!” or “Cursed Sweet Mother!” In fantasies where there are religions with multiple gods, “Gods” or “Gods be damned” is a commonly used swear phrase. And again, you could go with things like “Holy Gods!” “Cursed Gods” “Curse the Gods!” “Damn the Gods!” etc. In Game of Thrones, “seven hells” was a popular curse. Many religions have a version of hell, so you could use that or come up with a unique name for your religion’s hell and use that. If you establish that hell in your story’s world is called “Grenedor,” you can do something like “Bloody Grenedor!” or “What in Grenedor is going on here?” and “Damn it all to Grenedor!”

If you don’t want religion to be a part of your story’s world, you can accomplish the same thing using other figures of reverence or importance. “For King Feramon’s sake!” or “Cursed King!” Something like “Sweet Mother of Whores!” or “Cursed Father of Drunkards!” could work.  Finally, you can just make up words that sound interesting. Frak was used in Battlestar Galactica while frell was used in Farscape. Mork the alien from the 1980s TV show Mork and Mindy used the word shazbot as a curse word. The TV show Red Dwarf used the word smeg.  Here are some words and phrases you can combine with made up words, fictional religious words/elements, or other world elements to create swear phrases: 1. For _____ sake! 2. What the bloody ____? 3. ______ dammit! 4. Holy mother of ______! 5. Bloody _______! 6. Cursed ______! 7. Holy _______! 8. Blasted _____ of _____!

9. Worthless son of a _____!

10. ____ be damned!

I hope that helps!!!