#me giving all of the sinners a trait or two of mine when it comes to neopets: >:3

[evorathesylvurr]

i cant believe no one else in the limbus fandom is also into neopets.

"evora what does this mean" it means i know too much god damn neopets lore.

spoilers that go up to violet dawn walpurgis! you have been warned.

yi sang seems like the type who would have a kacheek or two

kacheeks are known for their friendly disposition. theyre also one of my favorites but thats unrelated. he'd also probably have a eyrie.

he'd be the type who has done all the plots. even the ones before he joined. (how? don't ask.)

faust is a crazy aisha lady. look. look. as an aisha enjoyer, i get to claim this one as one of us. aishas whole thing is being really smart.

faust strikes me as the type who would enjoy the battledome honestly. theres so much strategy that she probably cant have the faust hivemind tell her what to do.

don quixote spends neocash to have extra slots so she can dress up all her little guys. she chooses team altador every single time and also her favorite is a gelert.

don probably has event exclusive items but she probably got them off of her friends. also she has every limited time pet.

ryoshu would probably have a WONDERFUL time on neopets so long as she doesnt get her account frozen lmao. girl do not post your art. girl the neoboards arent ready for it. girl your spyders.

yeah all of her neopets are spooky themed or red/phantom/halloween depending on what they can be painted. you will never get her to admit it but her favorite neo is her jetsam.

meursault would play if only because he is autistic and so am i. maybe a shoryu (takes a second for info to load)

meursault knows the ins and outs of the neoconomy. like, jellyneo is in his head.

hong lu has a uni. i was going to give a uni to yi sang for the whole wings thing but unis fit hong lu so much better. this man spends so much money on neocash i do not care if hes actually been cut off from his rich family funds. he is using his salary for his silly little digital unicorns.

he shares don's enthusiasm for the game because i said so :) no i think this small little thing might be really healing for him if his family is shit. neopets makes me cry every now and then like for real because its so warm.

heathcliff picked neopets up because of ▢▢▢▢▢. his favorite is the lupe but he also quite likes acaras.

he takes SUCH good care of his neopets. he doesnt even put them in the lodge. he does his daily games to get his neopoints, goes to buy them food, feeds them, grooms them, plays with them, etc. they have perfect stats but theyve never seen a day in the battledome.

ishmael has a flotsam and thats it. no but she actually mostly has maraquan neos which means shes limited to customizing them :( her favorite is her maraquan vandagyre.

ishmael customizes her neos as best she can. they have the best enrichment tanks. ishmael is also insane at destruct-o-match. do not competitive 1v1 her in destruct-o-match you WILL lose.

rodya has a kyrii and a ruki. she has extensive lore for her neos and you should NOT ask her about it.

rodya is active as hell in the neoboards and she helps everyone with their fairie quests so much. rodya shop wizard extrodinaire. we love you.

sinclair is a pound adopter. his lore is his bruce came from the pound and now they go around adopting pound neopets. every single neo aside form his bruce was a pound adopt.

sinclair does those pound rescue touchups you see every now and then where they take a pet in the pound, give it a new paint job and/or lab zap, and return them to the pound so they have a better chance at getting a forever home.

outis plays neopets too because i said so. average scorchio and grarrl enjoyer though.

enjoys a good chia flouring. she uses her fucking paycheck to chia flour small kid's neopets (she doesnt do it to the other sinners she might be mean but she knows for a FACT she will not hear the end of it for MONTHS)

gregor's main neo is a blumaroo actually :3 i could have given him a buzz or a ruki but that is a cheap blow and i actually think it's cuter to give him the little bouncy guy :3

he enjoys playing the minigames and he leaves his pets in the lodge :( but its ok theyre having fun at the lodge.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi! I really like some of the Hazbin Hotel matchups you’ve done, and was wondering if I could request one.

Gender: I’m a cis guy (he/him)

Sexuality: Bisexual (though I lean heavily towards women)

Appearance: I lean sort of punk. My hair’s kinda medium length & messy. During colder seasons I wear torn darker grey jeans and a leather biker jacket, while during the summer I just wear black tank tops and dark colored shorts.

Personality: On the inside I’m very sensitive, empathetic, and loving. But I also struggle with trust and vulnerability, so I’m not great at showing those traits outwardly. Outwardly I’m kinda witty, calm, and unserious, even a bit aloof sometimes. I can be energetic and loud when I’m having fun though.

Likes: I love writing/creative expression of any kind (especially with stories that are highly emotional). I also love singing and acting (was a big theater kid back in HS). Another hobby of mine is playing videogames, particularly challenging/action packed ones that really make me lock in. And finally, I love cute dogs. All of the affection I struggle to show others, I show to my dog. He’s the sweetest.

Dislikes: I dislike people who are manipulative. I also dislike the cold. Finally, I dislike strict authority (very much a free spirit).

Extra: I think romantically I especially gravitate towards people who are warm and affectionate. With how much I struggle to give it out myself, I love someone who can bridge the gap. And if they’re fun and playful, all the better (teasing will make me act a little tsundere, but I love it deep down)

Thanks for your time!

~~~~~ MATCHUP ~~~~~

HAZBIN HOTEL

Emily

~~~~~ HEADCANON ~~~~~

She loves your style; anything from Hell is exciting and new to her, so seeing you with Charlie during one visit made her super curious.

She makes it her goal to see you whenever she can, even sneaking out from the Seraphim Tower to see you one visit.

She gives you nonstop compliments because, at every meeting with you, she finds something new about you she likes.

She likes to joke that she's your inverse since you wear a lot of black, and she wears a lot of white.

She stole your clothes and made a White version of your outfit.

She thinks it's cute when you reject her kindness but blush super dark.

You would be the first person she found if she ever fell from heaven's graces.

She would stay by your side and tell you about her plans and dreams.

She would love to invest in your hobbies even though she is not good at them.

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

You were on one of your excursions with Charlie to visit Heaven; Vaggie had been out helping train sinners in case the extermination ever started again. Once you had made it to your room, you knew that a young Seriphem would come busting through your door at any moment. Her excitement was contagious, but you had to play it cool; you were a Sinner. As if on cue, Emily made her way in a smile plastered on her face. "I am so glad you got to come this time! I was worried Charlie would bring her girlfriend again. How have you been?" You smiled softly at her kindness, explaining your time to her since you guys last talked.

You two had an odd relationship; everyone in hell knew about your growing partnership. However, in heaven, you two had to make it look like she was highly interested in a Sinner's life. It was hard keeping things a secret, but it was for the best, as she was bound to fall from the angel's graces if they knew. As you two talked about all the different things going on in your lives, sharing secret kisses and touches, you heard a loud bang at your door. " Emily, hide and don't say a word till I tell you too." She nodded and took to hiding in your closet.

You opened the door to be greeted by an out-a-breath Charlie, who looked frazzled. "Y/N Em needs to leave now; Sara is growing suspicious." You nodded and went to get Emily. As she went to leave the room, you kissed her cheek gently. Yes, it was risky, but who cares? She needed to know you enjoyed her company even if it was limited.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(For the first time in forever, the Seraphim were to come down to hell to discuss business with Lucifer and Charlie. During this meeting, Emily snuck away to find you playing some video games)

Emily: Whoa, what is that?

Y/N: Well, it's a bunch of code that creates a story you play through.

Emily: That's super fun. Do you just shoot all the little dead things?

Y/N: they are called zombies, but yes, I do shoot them, and I collect artifacts as I do to complete the story.

Emily: Fasinating (She stares at the screen harder)

Y/N: are you not even remotely bothered by the gore?

Emily: No. When we arrived, Charlie walked us along the streets of hell, and I think I have seen it all now.

Y/N: Oh.....

[dangermousie]

I love how they mirror each other, here they say the same thing in unison - they definitely fit well together (and that goes even in things like keeping the other person in the dark for their own good/taking decisions out of that person’s hands - this is such a pattern between them that honestly it doesn’t bother me because it’s clearly a basic character trait and it would be weird for it to disappear. She pushed him away on the mountain, he pushed her away repeatedly as Lord Bo, she drugged him to go and rescue his brother etc etc. That’s just how they are dysfunctionally built.)

This happens much later but I feel like bringing it up now so:

They have clearly cut the FUCK out of the plot. I mean, this comes out of nowhere - now she has super strength thing (and probably hulked out since she asked Snake Lady about whether she hurt her) like Wolfie used to but also black blood which means imminent death and WHAT HOW WHY I feel like I skipped five episodes. Honestly, the things I want to do to the censors should be banned by the Geneva Convention.

I mean, three versions - (1) she decided to take the hulk out medicine because she wanted to go rescue Fourth Brother so Wolfie won’t go and die. She didn’t care about the side effects danger because she doesn’t want to live without Wolfie anyway but they are even quicker and more severe than she thought. That doesn’t make sense since she has a whole army at her disposal, she doesn’t need to go by herself. (2) She took it as part of effort to find antidote for Wolfie’s issues and either it failed or she didn’t lie when she told Wolfie during their wedding there is an antidote (and there is some plot reason why he could have it but she can’t.) (3) Remember that weird as hell treatment the King told Snake Lady to give to her supposedly for her legs back way when and it was gonna be a means to control her and there was something creepy in the water but they never showed what and it seemed to have been dropped. I think the King could have ordered Snake Lady to give her that stuff, but it was only a little and maybe the plan went haywire later with all that happened, so it didn’t really catch up with her until now. 

I mean, I really NEED to know that stuff. It drives me crazy that it clearly had a very functional plot (no, it was never going to be Joy of Life or The Story of Minglan, but it clearly had a thought out dark fairy tale type of plot - certainly as solid as e.g., Prince of Lan Ling, Love and Redemption or similar) but because of the cuts, some of it now lurches as a no-leg monster. The drama still works so much for me because of its emotional, shippy and character beats, but objectively the narrative becomes a huge mess at times.

The other thing (I was talking about it to @andoqin​ and I am lazy and am stealing a lot of it from what I said in chat), is in the original Wolfie killed her father (just take a look at those scenes - the build, the weapons, the clothes, it’s Wolfie) and censors made them cut it. Which - then the story then becomes “I hated him but now I know he didn’t kill my dad, I do not” and that is a fun cliche but cliche. But it’s a factual mess and emotionally the other narrative is more interesting.

Factually:

1. She never talks during her big taking him back scene about “now I know you are utterly innocent of killing my dad” which you would think be the biggest relevant point. No, all she talks is his expiating and redeeming and paying back.

2. If he never killed her family and didn’t even know they would be killed (which wtf - the King clearly thinks he is capable of killing the woman he loves if the king asks, but will cavil at killing a random old man?) plus we never see his supposed atrocities, what does he need to atone for? Sure, he executed some people on orders of king but all we see are adult rebel types. And he was an epic jerk to her. But being a bad boyfriend and carrying commands of the king (and none of these commands are particularly depraved thanks to the censors) is run of the mill feudal lord behavior. I mean, the way the censors left things, he’s better than Feng Xi in Twisted Fate of Love who killed the heroine upon meeting her (and he didn’t know she was immortal and come back), whipped her (to free her from prison; at least none of Wolfie’s insanity included a whipping), and does a hell of shady stuff for noble vengeance reasons. But (rightly), there is no issue with Feng Xi because he has ok reasons for his actions, falls hard for DY, is willing to die for her etc. Feng Xi is certainly not being shipped to the mines and repenting like he’s been murdering babies. No should he be, I hasten to add, but in the modified narrative, neither should Wolfie! I mean his horror and repentance and hitting rock bottom and all that suffering become out of proportion to any of his wrongs (he is solidly middle of the pack as far as period cdrama heroes and bad stuff.) Like - unless they are all Quakers, he doesn’t have that much to repent for to that extent. “My father the king is a douche and I treated you badly” might be break up territory but it’s not REPENT SINNER one. (Same goes to everyone calling him a monster and him believing it and how hard it hits him just as it hits him hard when she insists he’s a human. Since he doesn’t turn into a literal physical monster any more nor has he even been shown to do horrific things other than some really veiled allusions, it makes me think all those other people calling him that are a bunch of hysterics.)

3. In this narrative, the Trio were the only ones who killed Daddy. Fine. But she has no interest in seeking revenge on the remaining two. None. 

And that brings me to the point that emotionally, the original narrative to me is so much stronger because there he (and Trio) killed her family but she can look past it because she realizes they were all tools of a monster who were brought up and gaslit and brainwashed and had basically no choice about any of it, and they genuinely cared for her. With respect to Wolfie, he was basically tortured into inhumanity but he still loved her so much and all of his actions where he was horrid to her were driven not by cruel enjoyment of her suffering or lack of feeling but by his love and need to protect her. And he literally tried to die to expiate. And I love that this is what matters to her - what was the deal breaker for her never was her family’s death because she understands even early on that none of them had a choice or even ability to fully consent and comprehend what they were doing. Her deal breaker was not that he (and the Trio) was damaged and was forced to do awful stuff, but that he enjoyed it, that he didn’t care, that his love was not genuine, that he didn’t have a loving loyal heart under all the damage. And honestly, that narrative is so much more powerful to me.

[the-woman-in-the-writing]

“My Name is Tomas Zamora” a short story

Rating: PG-13 Contains: Graphic imagery and physical violence Word Count: 3,221

Author’s note:

Last summer, I took a creative writing workshop. We held one of our sessions in a historical church (Barasoain Church) and we were asked to write a short story inspired by our surroundings. This story started when I mixed and matched first and last names from the list of people who participated in the making of the constitution (however, I’m not sure if that was really the list, but it did have a lot of names). I also wanted to write about the oppression of something that wasn’t usually written about.

Found note in the barracks of a house in Manila Circa. 1890s Translated into English

My name is Tomas Zamora, a loyal and compliant soldier of one of the fiercest commanders of my time – Antonio Luna. It is my duty and purpose to serve my country and to obey the orders of my commander until death has come to my door to take me home. But alas, death has lit his lamp and is on my doorstep, preparing to knock.

I will die before the sun rises.

In my contemplating, I have come to realize that I had another purpose to fulfill and that is to write this note or letter. I do not know who will read this after my well-accepted death or if it will ever be found, but if it does fall in the hands of a noble and faithful soul, I trust that he will use this as a torch to light the way of others.

I do not write, nor do I express myself in feelings or words. Unlike Franco, I am a man of action. I hope you can forgive me for the cluttered storytelling. My late mother had always been better at this than me. Like she had often told me, I am more like my father.

I never knew my father as well as my mother. I have only remembered his face in a picture my mother kept. When I was two years old, he was executed for a crime he did not commit. A guard house was burned down, and he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Accused of arson and perjury, my father did his best to defend himself so that he could come home to see me and my mother again. Unfortunately, the Spaniards’ cruelty and injustice prevailed. They did not even bother to investigate or find the true criminal; they just pointed their fingers at the nearest Filipino they could find and accuse him, so that they could simply say their job was done.

My father was punished with cavayo y vaca. While being dragged behind a horse in the scorching heat, he was paraded around our town, whipped, and spat at until he fainted and eventually died.

My mother and I moved to a town where nobody knew us. A fresh start was something that she needed after her husband’s demise. I was too young to understand this back then, but when I grew older I understood that the scandalous accusations against my mother were cruel enough to make her leave.

In our new life, my mother was fortunate enough to work as a maid for someone generous. She let her leave whenever my mother liked, but my mother was a diligent woman and she never abused that privilege. We had enough money to be able to eat and sleep in a decent house, however, I was never given a proper education. My mother only taught me what she knew, and I learned some basic concepts taught in school. Mostly, I learned manners and how to cook, clean, be a gentleman, and impress women – some of those I never used.

I was about ten years old when I became a sacristan at the church in our town. My mother taught me to be a man of God and that every good trait will come after I serve the Lord. I believed in her words. Every time one of the Augustinian priests will punish me for forgetting something in the mass or I did not clean the chalice or washed the cloths enough, I would remember my mother’s words: The Lord will reward you for enduring the pain and acting love upon it.

And so, I submitted and patiently endured the whips and punches that landed on my skinny body. I was very thankful for the fact I was able to come home, unlike the other sacristans. Even though my mother cried every time she would trace my wounds and bruises, I came back to the church, so I could earn a little money and serve my God. However, my time as a sacristan ended after my mother’s death.

Now that I think of it, I feel unworthy to share the same time of death as my mother, who gave her body and soul for a sinner like me. It was all my fault. I can never forgive myself nor repay her actions.

It all started with Rafael, a fellow sacristan. As I was about to go home, I heard him being accused of stealing the chalice used earlier in the mass. He never looked like the type who would commit such a crime, especially around priests who were not afraid to enact violence. Rafael was younger than me, yet he suffered cuts and bruises on his frail little body that only grown men could endure. I felt sorry for him.

After all those times I obeyed and submitted to the priests, I talked back to defend Rafael against their false accusations. The priest was shocked at my actions, and from his shocked face, it quickly changed into a mask of rage and disgust.

I will never deny it – one moment, I was brave and then, I am cowering in fear, wishing I went home. The priest smacked my mouth as he cursed me. I fell to the ground and he made me stand up by grabbing my ear harshly. Rafael’s cries were heard as he fled home and by this time, I was also crying as I was the one taking his place.

They say you get used to the pain after a while, yet I felt every lash sink into my skin the whole time. The sting of the whips and heaviness of the punches hurt so bad that I could not think of the time. The torture probably lasted very long, because my worrying mother came to the church to fetch me. I ran into her arms when I saw her, and she kissed every inch of my face until the priest confronted her.

“I am not done with him.�� The priest said, harshly.

My mother did not even bother to ask what I was being punished for, she only said, “Please, let my son go home. And please, do not punish and let him return here anymore.”

The priest ignored her request and slapped her on the cheek.

“How dare you interrupt a man appointed by the Lord!”

My mother got on her feet swiftly and grabbed the robes of the priest. His face displayed utter disgust as if a leper was holding onto him, yet it somehow softened when my mother said, “Please, father, I would give anything.”

“Very well,” he pulled his robes from her grasp, “let us negotiate in the other room.” And they disappeared.

After what seemed like a long time, I knew something was wrong, so I decided to look for them in the other room. However, they were not there nor in the priests’ office or in any of the quarters. What was left was the worship hall where the masses were held. When I pushed the slightly opened door, I heard my mother’s muffled cries echo in the room. Pew by pew, I searched for them, but I was unsuccessful, until I heard the priest’s voice.

It came from the confessional.

I silently approached the latticed window of the confessional where the priest sat at to hear the sins of the penitents, and what I saw was something a child my age should never have to witness.

My mother was being raped by an Augustinian priest.

I never forgot the feelings that surged through my veins as I heard the cries through the latticed window. I knew what I had to do and even though I was afraid again, I opened the door and told the priest to stop. Before anyone could react, I grabbed my mother’s wrist and tried to pull her away, but the priest held her tight.

“Tomas!” My mother said before the priest tightened his arm around my mother’s neck.

“Mama!” I cried back as I kept on pulling her away, but she did not budge from the priest’s embrace.

The priest spoke severely like how he preached sometimes, “If you ever speak about this, I will kill you.”

My mother’s grip tightened around my hand as tears rolled down her cheek. All our grips – my mother’s, mine, and the priest’s – tightened until I felt the life leave her hand. The priest finally released her, letting her limp body slide down the steps of the confessional. And as I stared at her lifeless body, my hand held every love that was left in her fingertips.

“Mama, mama, mama…” I kept whispering as I hugged her close to me.

The priest wiped sweat from his forehead and stepped out of the confessional, careless about what happened.

“Go home.” His voice echoed.

And so, I did, even though without my mother, home does not exist.

I could never tell you how it feels like to lose someone. However, the tragedy of it is agonizing enough to damage a soul. Because when you lose someone, a part of yourself leaves you and goes along with them. And when I left that church with my dead mother slumped on my tired and wounded shoulders, she went to join God and a part of my soul came along with her.

I did not have anyone left.

I was all alone.

I know I should not doubt God but that night, I lost everything, and I do not think He even cared.

I ended up on the doorstep of the house my mother worked for. Before I could even knock I already fainted from fatigue. This was the last time I slept beside my mother.

When morning had arrived, I learned that the woman’s name was Rosalinda Mariano and that she was kind enough to help me burn my mother’s body. As we stood and silently cried in front of the burning stacks of wood that covered the corpse, she pulled me into her arms and kissed my hair. From that moment, I knew I was safe.

“The world is full of injustice, boy, but there is a proper time to fight for the balance of the scales.” She whispered and took me back inside to clean my wounds.

Aunt Rosa never married nor had any children, but she treated me like I was her own family. She had inherited her house and money from her wealthy father, and in the years I stayed with her, she cared for me, fed me, taught me, and loved me. I had another mother to repay.

My years as a young man were mostly spent at the home of Aunt Rosa, cleaning and helping around. I still did not get a proper education because she did not trust the teachers would treat me well. She said she was educated enough to teach me. Nevertheless, I had a few friends and still suffered the sting of young love as most were unrequited.

Like other young men, I left my home to work, and in my case, as a soldier. My time in training was quite dull because the days were monotonous, but I learned how to be a good soldier. I was one of the best, they say, but was too young to lead my own men.

After moving from one commander to another, I finally ended up under Antonio Luna’s command. Fierce as he may seem, his heart is full of nationalism and love for people. Luna has sharp skills and an intelligent mind, and with it, we were victorious in most battles. Luna cared for his men in his own way. Tough love, that’s what I called it, but others said it was madness.

I have respect for him until now. I still choose to obey his commands and accept the circumstances he put me in, even if it costs my life. Under his command, I will not die in vain. I am Luna’s man through and through.

His words earlier echoed in my mind.

A few hours ago, I was asked to report to him. Vicente, sweaty and tired, said I had to come with him immediately as it was a matter of life and death. I put my uniform back on and brought my rifle.

I knocked courteously at his door before entering. It was a small hut, so when Luna closed the door and slapped me, the sound reverberated, and birds flew from the roof. I did not know what he was slapping me for. He had never done it prior to this meeting.

“You are a disgust! An abomination!” He scolded as he slapped me again.

I supported myself using my rifle. Confused, I asked him, “Sir, if I may ask, what have I done wrong?”

He turned himself back to me and his face was full of rage. He grabbed me by my collar and said, “Do not pretend like you do not know. You are smarter than this, Zamora.”

I was scared but I did not show it. “Sir, I really do not know.”

He looked at me in the eye more intensely as if he was trying to figure out how I could not have known. And at last he said,

“Franco Herrera.”

My heart stopped.

Franco…

How could he have known?

After every carefully planned meeting, how could have he known about Franco?

Franco, my love.

I have thought carefully about writing the truth about me and Franco here in this note, but as I recalled and imparted the story of my existence, I figured I had nothing left to lose but my own life. And if I write about us here, then in a way, we will never really die.

Franco Herrera is everything and everything, all at once. That does not make much sense but so does the world now. I have an unfathomable affection for him and I always will.

One does not meet Franco and not fall in love with him. In my case, I have walked into a profound likeness for him when I met him.  It was at a secret meeting with the Propaganda five years ago. Antonio Luna introduced his best men to the writers of the La Solidaridad because if he is unable to report to them the current events, we will do it on his behalf. In that conference, I met Laong Laan, Plaridel, Tikbalang, Buan, JoMaPa, Magdalo, Elias, and Diego Laura. As you have noticed, the names I gave are their aliases, just in case this note falls into the wrong hands. I have full trust in those whose names I gave away that they will rather die than betray their country and comrades. The people who wrote for the La Solidaridad briefed to us the password to use, and as soon as the meeting ended, Luna ordered us to leave. And as we were doing so, a knock came from the door.

“Who is it?” Laong Laan asked.

“Archera Ferron” the voice said and told the password next.

Tikbalang opened the door and the man entered. Franco gave him a courteous nod and looked at his fellow writers as a greeting.

“Please forgive me for my lateness.” He looked at the three of us next, and in that moment when he looked at me, I knew his stare lingered for a second. “I see some new faces.” He turns to Luna. “Your men, Taga-ilog?”

“Yes,” and Luna faces us, “introduce yourselves.”

“Manuel Bautista.”

“Rommel Vicente.”

“Tomas Zamora.” And he shook my hand, firm and welcoming, like he did with my other comrades.

“Franco Herrera.” He introduced himself as he looked me in the eye with a sly smile on his face.

Every beautiful thing came after that. I do not want to bore you with how we became friends and eventually became intimate with each other, for it is also private. Franco had asked me earlier when I told him about Luna’s confrontation that I should not write too much detail about us in this note. He believed that what we have dies with us as it had lived. But I cannot control myself enough.

I want to share with you a little of my love for Franco.

Franco Herrera has an ability to stop time when he stares at me and he can make it run again, but much more slowly, when he touches me. He is what I survive for in battle. He is my newfound home. In those nights when the sheets embrace us, I remember that there is a little good and a little love left in this cruel world. I have only seen the sunrise with him twice, but in those times that I did, the sun never looked as beautiful – waking up never felt so bright and warm. When he writes for freedom, he writes for the Filipinos; when he writes for love, he writes for me. Not every time his words land on paper, sometimes it is on my skin; and not every time he uses a pen to express himself, sometimes he uses his lips. However, in our shared silences, our eyes are what speak for us.

And last morning, I shared with him my second sunrise as I rest in the quiet of his love. The end never felt sweeter and warm and safe.

“Franco…” I whispered.

“Yes, Tomas...?” He replied.

“Let us look at the sunrise.”

And we did.

We watched the sun light up my little house from the window, with our hands around our waists. The sky burst with colors of pink, orange, and yellow. And at that time, as I was in his arms with the colors and light passing through our lips, life did not feel tragic and we were simply humans learning to love in the little time we have left.

Because of Franco, I have lived.

“Zamora, are you listening to me?!” Luna barked. “I will not remove you from my command because of our situation, but if you get shot or injured later in battle, I will let you die.”

And now, I will pass away.

It was Bautista who saw us earlier this morning. It was him who told Luna. It was him who told the Propaganda. It was him who took my life away.

In complete honesty, I am not bitter that I am about to die. I know I have served my country well and that I did my best to give my countrymen the freedom they deserve. I will soon be reunited with my mother and father, and wherever I am, I will watch Franco until his time comes that he gets to join me. I have fought for what I believe in and I have loved tremendously with all I have.

Tonight, we will fight for our freedom even if we do not have enough men. The liberty of the Filipinos travels with the bullets we fire, and its price is paid with bodies of men. Tonight is my turn.

“Zamora?” Vicente called.

Death has come to knock on my door.

“Sir Luna has called us to assemble.”

And I will open it boldly and kindly.

[12-99-30]

forgiveness: the topic no one asked for

I started writing on the topic of forgiveness in January, thinking I had some grasp on the idea of releasing a grudge against someone who has wronged you. Forgiveness is something we are expected to do daily. I am constantly forgiving my dad for his impatience, my siblings for their lack of sensitivity, and even myself for my own naivety. I’ve been put in situations where I received unmerited forgiveness, and situations where I extended it to others - It was a topic I felt ready to write about it. 

Within a few weeks, the concept of forgiveness radically changed. Yes, Jesus calls us to forgive our transgressors, but how do we forgive those who have never apologized? How do we forgive when the damage cuts so deep that even when the bleeding stops, you’ll always see the parts that you left hurting? How do I let go of the anger against people who did not care? 

I never understood why people didn’t like talking about forgiveness in church, but I empathize now. I understand the struggle of forgiving, even when it is undeserving, unmerited, and unjust. 

-- -- 

One thing everyone who has wrestled with forgiveness will say is:

Forgiveness is not a feeling, but it is a choice. 

J-- reminds me, 

“If you wait for the right moment to feel sympathetic to the offender, you will wait for an eternity and more for the feeling to come… Forgiveness must never be contingent upon the other person's ability to own up to their mistakes and apologize.” 

“The world will tell you that it keeps you on the higher ground and you're "winning" when you're able to hold the grudge or that if you forgive them, you "lose" out by conceding and surrendering. The Gospel states that to live is Christ and to die is gain, that to follow Christ, we must surrender and die to ourselves - including every "right" that we have to lord over others the feelings of contempt and disdain.”

The world was telling me that they didn’t deserve my forgiveness. They took so much away from me, the last thing I wanted to give them was my peace. It was my way of seeking justice, holding onto the last bit of the “fight” that I had. If I let this go, no one will see the pain they caused. No one will understand what they did was wrong. They’ll think I have given up. They’ll think what they’re doing is okay. They’ll get away with it.

I now realize that was unbelief talking, cause God sees. God sees them. God sees me. Wrapped in His grace, God gave me the power to pray to seek out forgiveness. It was an unrushed, gentle invitation to forgive, but one that was relentless. I’m constantly reminded that though they didn’t deserve my forgiveness, I didn’t deserve an ounce of the forgiveness for what I’ve done that Jesus paid for.  

Matthew 6:14-15

14 For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15 But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

A hard but necessary verse to meditate on. Forgiveness is necessary in maintaining my intimacy with God, removing any roadblocks that prevents us from fellowship with Him and others. I’m called to become more like Jesus, and Jesus accurately and wholeheartedly embodied forgiveness. We are called to be compassionate, and to forgive others. To not let bitterness defile us because Christ has forgiven us. He has loved us first. (Ephesians 4:29-32). 

In the process of learning what forgiveness is, I’ve learned that Forgiveness is NOT:

Forgetting: God calls us to remember. We are creatures of remembrance. It’s one of our traits that differentiates us between animals from humans. 

A Feeling: It’s not condoning or overcoming the hurt (though with time, that will happen), but it’s about not letting our emotions dictate our circumstances

We have access to the feelings and knowledge of God. It’s aligning our steps with the spirit and praying for self control. To not dwell and fixate on the hurt

Does not mean something is not a sin: Forgiveness is a place where we invite Jesus to come in and reframe the narrative. To heal and help us move forward

Does not mean we allow toxic people in: Reconciliation and forgiveness are two entirely different things. Reconciliation only comes when the other person is willing to fully admit to their mistakes and apologize for their wrongdoings. It’s not a must

It’s not a one time event: A recycled action that you are constantly doing over and over again. 

There will be times when we question if we really forgave them. Where we want to take it back and hold onto unforgiveness. Make a public profession. Allow for accountability to remind you what Jesus has done for you and that you have forgiven them. It will get easier with time. 

Through scripture, I learned that Forgiveness IS: 

“The personal act of releasing the one who has sinned against me from my personal right to collect on the moral debt, but to PAY him/her back on their moral offense.“

God reminds us to never avenge ourselves (Romans 12). We convince ourselves that if we forgive, this will all be forgotten. But when we lay it down, God picks it up and He doesn’t forget. It doesn’t get lost. He uses it and redeems the hurt. 

By forgiving: 

We return to God the right to take care of justice: we must let go of our desire for revenge for something they’ve done. 

It’s an act of trust and faith. Knowing God is better at handling justice in a way we never could.  

We have freedom knowing we have a righteous defender. A Father defending their beloved daughter and son. I give Him the power to work on my half for me.

By releasing my right to justice, I give Him more space to be bigger - to work creatively for my greater Good. 

We will determine to do what is good rather than evil: In the midst of pain, you’ll see how sin is the common denominator. It is the equalizer between me and the transgressor. 

We like to see ourselves as “not that bad”, but in reality - we are that bad. In fact, we are worse. Yet, we continue to love ourselves despite our badliness, because we are “things called selves”. That is what God intended us to do. He loved us when we had nothing nice about ourselves. Are we not to do the same things to others? 

I’ve learned to hate the sin, not the sinner. We’ve all fallen victim to it, and when you see your own sin, you’ll be more inclined to grant them freedom.

We will see it for what it is: an unmerited gift

Granted from the heart, a tangible release. We are able to absorb the hurt given to us with God’s help and transform into something beautiful. 

With each dimension we go deeper into forgiveness, we uncover a layer that leads us to more freedom.  

God is calling us to forgive, not for the peace of the other party, but peace with God and therefore ourselves. After a certain point, you realize you are the only one left hurting and you must move forward. To move forward with God, means forgiving your debtor, forgiving yourself for being naive, forgiving life for being unfair, and forgiving God for feeling like He didn’t defend you the way you should’ve been. If we do not forgive, we are at risk of being defiled. It poisons us. Makes our hearts harder. It robs us of joy and freedom. We must transform this hurt into something beautiful with God’s help (Hebrews 12:15).  God absorbs that pain, takes the unhealthy plant away , and gives us back a fresh, new plant. We are getting back the life that was ours.

God has forgiven us with open arms, and once you come to to understand how much grace you need, God will give you the grace to forgive. It’s morally imperative to not die with bitterness, but with a heart of warmth and love. When my life ends, what will matter is how my character has grown and the relationships I cultivated in the process. How can I rewrite this narrative to make it a time I grew closer to God? When I lay this burden down before Him, so much love can grow. 

These people are saved Christians. They’re going to be with me in heaven forever. I know Jesus died on the same cross for their sins the way he did mine. I want to celebrate and rejoice in that. (Proverbs 24:17–18)

I give myself the grace to be angry, but I know behind the anger are feelings of hurt and injustice. But because Christ dwells in me, I won’t be stuck here in these emotions. 

“All of your sins - your entire sin history, far outweighs anything that this person has done to you. If Christ can forgive you for all the sins you've done, all the sins you're stuck in, and all the sins you will do in the future, He will also give you that same grace to forgive the other person.”

It is not by my own character I am able to forgive. There are still so many days where I’m left wondering why I have forgiven them in the first place. But because Christ dwells in my heart, it is where I can draw strength to give someone the chance to taste what Jesus has done for the world. 

J-- puts it best:

“Christ's last words on the cross, as He was being mutilated and crucified, was, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." In Christ's last breaths, He demonstrated to us an unearthly forgiveness. As He gave His last breath, He gives us that same ability to offer that forgiveness to others. Not because we're good or better than anyone else, but because we have tasted that grace, and the Gospel shows us that we are no more deserving of God's grace than anyone else."

Thank you to Bridgetown Podcasts, C.S. Lewis, John Piper, J-- C--, and the Bible (lol) for teaching me all of this. This whole post is a rip-off of everything they have said. Thank you for helping me understand the depths of my brokenness, my need for forgiveness, and why I should extend it to those around me. Freedom is starting to taste sweet. 

[smolbeanswelcome]

Crazy

Warnings - Sinners, welcome, to the home of pure and undeniable sinful behaviours that is the world of Teen Wolf.

Pairing - Derek Hale x reader

Summary - It seems as though Derek Hale had been snooping around with other girls, no matter the undeniable bond that you two had; so you decided that payback is well deserved in these circumstances (basically jealousy all round).

A/n - Hi my sweets, this is my first Teen Wolf imagine, so I know what you are thinking; ‘She won’t updated within the next 7 years.’ On the contrary, I will be trying to update more frequently, but I do really need you guys to request imagines, ships, etc.

So far, life living with the big bad wolf that was Derek Hale was probably one of the best periods of my life. Now I say this in past tense because recently, there has been a merger change in our relationship, and he has started to ‘train’ with some girls, which usually I would be okay with; except the fact that they were flirting continuously with him, and I think he was starting to return the favour. Stiles and Scott have noticed it too, and let me tell you they were not at all fond about it either, because unlike most typical teenagers, they cared about our relationship. Or, they would have noticed that when Derek and I were together he was less blunt, and therefore they would get called out less. I was also happy about that, but they were getting more desperate seeming as Derek wasn’t around me hardly anymore. So, to return such a horrible burden, Scott and Stiles came up the idea of having me make him jealous with one of them, and maybe this would be able to work on him, seeing that he was very over-protective.

Scott had organised a massive party over at his place while his mother was gone, which I thanked him profusely for. There was drinks, piles of junk food, and dirty dancing music; perfect for the scene I was about to create. I walked through the halls of his house as Scott and Stiles talked about some sort of supernatural thing that was going on, so I decided it was the best time to run up to Scott’s room and dress into my deep red revealing dress, skanky and all, I know. I looked at myself in the mirror, sighing as I thought about Derek, the fun we had, the times we laughed and the times we loved. It was moments like that, that I enjoyed the most, because having a connection like that with someone was something people would look for their whole entire lives. I rolled my eyes at the thought, rubbing my head and walked downstairs quietly, trying not to slip on the heels that I had on, and everyone started to pile in within seconds. “Scott? Scott!” I yelled, hauling him over to me in the middle of his living room where I was standing eagerly waiting. He stood next to me, looking down from his towering physique, and I took in a sharp breathe.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He questioned, looking at me with those usual caring eyes, and I just nodded as we started moving to the music. I could almost sense Derek’s presence as Stiles walked over to the right hand corner of the room. I could hear him talking, I was no werewolf but I had decent hearing. “So who are you looking for this grand evening?” I could almost feel Stiles’ sheepish grin.

“Where is Y/-” Derek paused, obviously finding me dancing with Scott, my hands travelling up and down his body. I looked across for a second, Derek was in complete shock, looking at me in confusion as I continued dancing, pretending I didn’t notice. I could tell Stiles was celebrating, his arms moving down and looking at Derek before he quickly looked away, almost giving away our plan. After that, I could hear loud footsteps coming towards me rapidly, and I could instantly tell it was him. “Y/n, can we talk?” He growled in a low tone, and Scott became worried, but I continued to be stubborn. “I don’t know, I’m having fun here.” I winked at him, his anger rising but his patience doing the exact opposite. But before I could resist, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Scott who I winked at, and he put a thumbs up sign towards me. Before I knew it, we where outside, where most people were dancing slowly, so he decided to blend in. His hand firmly placed itself on my lower back, my hand holding his and my other lightly rested on his shoulder.

“What were you doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows, swaying me from side to side, his leather jacket creasing beneath my touch.

“I could ask you the same question.” I raised my eyebrow, slightly annoyed at his obliviousness and he clenched his jaw firmly.

“Y/n, what are you talking about?” He quizzed me.

“All those training sessions with the girls who don’t know what the meaning of I’m taken is, or even if you mentioned that.” I replied.

“They weren-” He was cut off by me giving him the look, and he returned the glare.

“They were.” I stated, looking away. He rolled his eyes, looking up and then back down at me.

“Jealousy isn’t a good trait to have.” He said, still glaring at me.

“Says you hypocrite.” I leaned closer, trying to intimidate him. But before I knew it, his lips were clashing into mine with harshness. After that, we leaned our heads together. “I hate you..” I said, slightly out of breath; but he just chuckled, kissed my cheek and leaned me down.

“I love you too.”

[in-the-key-of-f-major]

Draft for me coming out as agender on Facebook (please comment/send me messages about this)

Note: I’ve done my best not to hint what gender I was assigned at birth, so if there’s any clue in this text about my assigned gender, please let me know.

In the early months of 2015, I came out as asexual, then later as aromantic. This is going to be another coming out post, but one that is much longer. And if you read this, I thank you for taking the time to do so. If you happen to know my family or relatives, please keep this to yourself. I’m not ready for them to know, but I can’t hide the truth from everyone anymore.

It’s been a long journey, and after months of questioning, I’m sure of who I am. It hasn’t been easy, especially as I had to do it alone, since most of my support is based online. In the real world, I struggled through the dysphoria and the misgendering alone. I had to play the part of someone whom everyone thought I was. I often felt like I was in someone else’s body, like my life was a film, that I was portraying the character that everyone expected me to be.

When I was a kid, I used to think about gender. Gender roles and gender presentation. I wondered how people assumed that someone who had long hair and wore dresses was a girl or a woman. How people assumed that those who had low voices and certain body types were boys or men. I thought about how people got labels slapped onto them at birth, based on their physical bodies. How did people simply assume what a stranger's gender was based on appearances?

And what about individual identity? How did people know they were girls or they were boys? If a woman had to have a mastectomy because of breast cancer, wasn't she still a woman? If a man had gynecomastia, wasn't he still a man? Body parts, or the lack thereof, didn't define one's internal sense of self, or so I thought. Yes, I might have been born with certain physical characteristics, I wasn't denying that. What I was questioning was what I had been assigned based on my physical traits. Acknowledging that intersex people exist and that sex isn't a neat binary, it was a matter of what traits I had that got me labelled as one binary gender or the other.

It was only when I started to approach my late teens that I began to question who I was. For 16 years, I lived a life unaware of the possibilities out there, but it wasn’t blissful. Sometimes, I would wonder why I suffered so much in the single-gender school that had been my primary school. Every time, I would drop the matter, assuming that it was just a normal part of growing up. Other times, I would wonder why I didn’t fit in with other children or teenagers of the same gender. Most of all, I just wanted to be one of them, to be normal.

It wasn’t until late 2015 that I suspected I might not be cisgender. As most of you know, I had discovered my identity as an aromantic asexual earlier that year. In the later months of 2015, I questioned my identity once more. This time, I ended up questioning my gender. I wasn’t comfortable with my birth name anymore, and so I seized the opportunity to use a nickname, since that was the only way I could go by a new name without being questioned. I’m lucky that my nickname is gender-neutral, and is often viewed as a name belonging to the gender that I was not assigned at birth.

2016 was the year I started to socially transition. I started to go by my nickname, preferring it to my birth name, but I was limited in the settings that I could go by Ray. In early 2016, two friends of mine (who happened to be the kids of my parents’ friends) playfully joked about my nickname and imagined me as a university student pretending to be a guy and a girl at different times, both of whom were named Ray. In March of that year, when we met up to watch Zootopia, they suggested that I dress androgynously, since they would be calling me Ray, which is a gender-neutral name. This made me realize that the name Ray was a better reflection of who I was than the name given to me at birth.I changed the name on my school email, so that whenever I emailed a teacher or collaborated on a Google document, my preferred name would be seen. I changed my name on Facebook to make sure as many people as possible saw it. In class polls on WhatsApp, I signed my name as Ray. Every time my anthropology teacher addressed me as Ray in front of the whole class, I felt a little more like myself.

June was the month things started getting interesting. There was a squad of bloggers with similar URLs based on music keys, and I decided to make one such blog. I created a Kik group with the music key bloggers, and one of the people in it referred to me using pronouns that I’d never heard being used to refer to me. At first, I was surprised, but it was positive. I guessed that the reason was because Ray is not usually associated with my assigned gender. This led to me questioning my pronouns, wondering if I might actually prefer pronouns associated with the other binary gender. And of course, I thought about whether this was just a phase, that I was really cis and I just wanted attention. But as always, being seen as she/her didn’t feel right. There was always the jarring sensation that whoever was talking about me was actually talking about someone else.

What I remembered about the whole gender saga, as I like to call it, was that when I was queueing to use a public bathroom, I got a sudden wave of severe dysphoria that left me in tears for the rest of the afternoon. It was the most intense dysphoria I had ever felt. After that, I could no longer pretend it was just a phase.

From then on, I thought of myself as agender. But there were times when I wondered if I was actually cis. How did I know that this was really me? It was only a day ago, on the 27 of June, that I watched some videos on YouTube, and the agender label felt so right. This confirmed what I had realized about myself a year ago: I am agender. I read a prayer for agender, nonbinary and GNC folks, and cried (as I always did when reading that prayer) because I was tired of feeling like I was a sinner for not being cis, as I had been taught.

I came out to my friends on Snapchat as agender, and I told two of my IRL friends about my pronouns. One of them agreed, while the other made excuses (as it seemed to me), but eventually agreed to use they/them pronouns to refer to me.

Now it’s past 3pm on 28 June 2017. It’s Wednesday. Not that any of this matters, but keeping track of such specifics gives me some comfort. Maybe one day, I will look back on this post, and re-read the thoughts of my 18-year-old self. Whatever my future self’s thoughts are, I hope that future me will be the person that I want to be.

[chvrchesrp]

This is more like a “meta Apocrypha”—it is meant to help understand the philosophy and perspective of our game and its Churches. The Admin team thought it might be helpful for me to share, so, here it is! I just didn’t have an appropriate header image for ‘the CHVRCHES concept origin story in May’s brain,’ haha. So this might get a skosh personal.

When we opened CHVRCHES, responses from the community were predominantly great. However, there were a few folks—people I respected—who had questions for me along the lines of “what about other religions?” and “the religious aspect makes me feel uncomfortable?” and I think, seven months in (haha), it’s a good time to talk about that a little bit. 

The first question has earned a brief Forward on out plot page: all pantheons are canon here. Greek gods? Real. Norse gods? Real. They won’t be appearing here, nor will our pantheon folks have interacted with them much, but they would know of their existence. Kind of like, Heaven and Olympus can both exist, but Olympians don’t go to Heaven. Not much of cross-pollination. Because belief is precious, there’s a wariness between pantheons.

In this verse, belief gives power. Belief doesn’t create these gods, but it feeds them. Their strength—though not their existence—relies on how many people believe in them. That is why the foundation of ours, around loss of belief due to humanity expanding belief into other pantheons and atheism, lands us in the power struggle our��story’s pantheon is in. We are dealing in the Christian pantheon’s response to this phenomena in current modern society.

I can only speak for myself and my views, having been raised Roman Catholic, and I understand other folks are entitled to their own views. I believe that, if you’re Christian, you can believe there is only One God and he is Your God. Even if other ‘gods’ exist, in that perspective, they wouldn’t be gods—they’d be mythology, or spirits, or any number of things they are called by Christians today. We are an “angels and demons” roleplay, more than anything.

With that aside, the next thing that tends to comes up is: isn’t this a little too close for comfort, drawing from the Bible as a text? 

And to that, I say, I don’t believe so. For 2 major reasons—

1) Dogma, Supernatural, Lucifer, Preacher, and so forth... all of these exist. They incorporate biblical stories and scripture, show portrayals of biblical characters and people. A ton of songs explore biblical canon. Christianity is the dominant religion in much of the world, and certainly in the United States, where this verse is set. It is also an open religion that actively converts, asking people to engage with and believe in it. Exploring the stories between the lines seems a natural progression. People do this regardless of whether or not its an online writing game. If these other mediums are generally accepted, I haven’t yet been presented with a reason CHVRCHES should be deemed different.

2) Predominantly, the people I’ve spoken to have spoken of a discomfort they can’t quite name. I don’t know if this is true for them, but I imagine it’s a similar feeling to the one minority religion practitioners feel—like pagans, hellenics, and heathens—when engaging with other media portraying witches, Greek gods, and Norse gods and practices, respectively. There is certainly a dissonance when you first experience your beliefs as perceived by someone outside your own familiar religious group. I think this discomfort may stem from not being used to others exploring your religion as mythology, the way our culture—and Christianity— treats other religions. 

I wanted to incorporate the text in order to revive and honour it in a different way. Christianity is the dominant religion here. As I type this, the line of the separation between Church and State is thinning, and the aspect of the church that is wielding political power is literally one that wants to kill me (for being a woman, queer, disabled, chronically ill, et cetera—and those like me, for being those things and more). That church isn’t the interpretation of Christianity that I grew up on. Granted, I grew up Roman Catholic in New York, so take that how you will, but I wasn’t kicked out of my Church for being gay, nor did I have to undergo conversion therapy. I know that isn’t true everywhere.

My intention isn’t blasphemy any more than my existence is blasphemy.

Understandably, belief among my generation and those like me is waning. That is part of what inspired me to create this verse. A future many articles have written about: what happens when the younger generation finds other faiths, becomes secular or atheist or spiritual, empties out the coiffers and pews of standardized churches? That’s the world I created: one where all the churches we are already familiar with are small, quiet, defunct, fringe. As a foil, I kept the Roman Catholic Church with Pope Francis as canon, as a bastion of the old era in this new society and verse I conceived. My intention was to take biblical text and re-consider it, wonder:

What might it look like if we focused on the parts that were positive and not alienating? What if, for all the cherry-picking held against us, we could cherry-pick back in support of ourselves?

After all, every sect of Christianity began with a man and some interpretation of the text. This is me, creating fictional sects, with my interpretation. All churches started somewhere. Protestantism wasn’t a new stone tablet from God: it was Martin Luther with 95 Theses nailed to a church. These are mine. I’m not trying to make a revolution, I’m just trying to offer an alternative vision. It can’t happen in the real world, but in our escapist verse here, it was a thought process I wanted to see come to fruition. The possibility of a Church where the emphasis wasn’t on judging your identity, but instead focused on what kind of person you were; what you did and how you perceived the world around you. 

And so, the Church of Saints isn’t “Christianity” and the Church of Sinners isn’t “Satanism” nor “Luciferianism.” It’s important to not perceive of the Saints as you would our current-day churches and assume that the Sinners are ‘the individuals,’ a way out of current dogma, a different perspective catering to outcasts. The thing is that they’re both different perspectives from what we’re familiar with because their fundamental construct is from not-now. These are Churches who managed to capture the hearts and minds of a generation that wanted to leave the pantheon altogether. Out of a failing ideology, both Churches emerged and thrived to become the top Christian sects, succeeding where what we are currently familiar with in our world waned.

In a way, both Churches are the churches of outcasts, created in safety until the minority became a majority. That is how Christianity thrived, in this verse. That’s how you wind up with a bisexual, multiracial man who is a former-pirate heading the Saints—and now a biracial, asexual lesbian who questions everything, a daughter of an immigrant pragmatist. That’s how you wind up with a Vice heading up the Church of Sinners who conceived of the idea after bonding with a demon, carving her own path by the skin of her teeth and the dirt under her nails, not accepting ambition as ugly—traits utterly unbecoming of a woman, in theory. Both of these Churches are the song of the unsung, singing themselves into a better tomorrow.

“We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

That’s why that’s #9 on both of the Church’s 9 Beliefs.

The Churches were based on two basic ideas: Saints believe you make the world better by caring for self and others. Not to a fault, not to self-sacrifice and do only good and be perfect and conform to the hive mind—no. But with self-care and good boundaries and consideration for one’s own self and others. Sinners believe you make the world better by bettering yourself first. Kind of like an emotional trickle-down, the concept is that if I am the best me, and others are the best them, then we will have the best world. It’s self-focused and charges oneself with the responsibility—and consequence—of choice; less considerate, it asks you to do for you before anyone else. Both Churches try to create the best people as individuals, encourage their individuality, and aim to make the best world.

Both Churches’ views are flawed, of course.

That’s the point: it has to be that way, in order for a “real” Church to be “living, breathing, and responsive” to its congregation in our verse. These Churches are more attentive than what most of us have experienced in our lives, both Churches more interested in experiences as ‘mass’ rather than broadcast-sermons. It’s about the nuance of believing, existing, and moving through a text these muses thought failed them and breathing new life into it, making it work for each of them. Each Church is meant to make room for each believer. One believer might be startlingly different from the next, each believer might have their own individual interpretations of the Bible. 

So with that perspective, I invite you to re-imagine your muse’s relationship with the Church they chose. Try to let fall away the projections and ideas of how we feel about the churches in our world, be those feelings positive or negative or neutral, and try to perceive a world in which these Churches are familiar, personal, and the hope of both their people and their God.

[roomalthoughts]

10.23.2017: Letter (Part 2)

I got a lot to say to you Yeah I got a lot to say I noticed your eyes are always glued to me Keeping them here and it makes no sense at all

They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies

Crush, crush, crush, crush, crush (one, two, three, four)

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one two of us is counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than, thisIf you wanna play it like a game Come on, come on let's play 'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending Than have to forget you for one whole minute

They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies

Crush, crush, crush, crush, crush (one, two, three, four)

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one two of us is counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than, this now

Rock and roll baby, don't you know that We're all alone now, I need something to sing about Rock and roll honey, (Hey) don't you know baby We're all alone now, I need something to sing about Rock and roll honey, (Hey) don't you know baby We're all alone now, give me something to sing about

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one two of us is counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than, no

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one two of us is counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than, more than this

-crushcrushcrush // Paramore 

Maybe I’m jumping the gun here a little too soon. I’m just deciding where to go with this knowing that this Friday is the last time I’ll see those blue eyes of yours. Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone. I just want to have you in my arms but I’m not sure if this will ever happen and it’s just all a dream for me. 

I was walking away, But she's so beautiful it made me stay I don't know her name, But I'm hoping she might feel the same So here I go again, She got my heart again! Tonight we'll dance I'll be yours and you'll be mine We won't look back, Take my hand and we will shine Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I got a wild heart Stay here, my dear, Feels like I've been standing right here for years My mind's beat up Tell me that you feel this, and I won't give up I won't give up Tonight we'll dance I'll be yours and you'll be mine We won't look back, Take my hand and we will shine Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I got a wild heart Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I got a wild heart And I know it's late, I know it's cold But come right here, I swear I'll never let you go The way you move—it's wonderful Let's do it now, 'cause one day we'll both be old Oh whoa oh Tonight we'll dance I'll be yours and you'll be mine We won't look back, Take my hand and we will shine Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I got a wild heart Tonight we'll dance I'll be yours and you'll be mine We won't look back, Take my hand and we will shine Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I got a wild heart Oh, oh, oh She needs a wild heart [2x] I've got a wild heart

-Wild Heart // The Vamps 

You know damn well that I have a wild heart and you have a wild heart. We could make the night ours and dance throughout the day. You know we can make this work out but the ball is in your court. 

It's another day Wanna get away from here There's a plane out on a runway Gonna run away from here 'Cause the rain is so terribly dull And it bores me Yeah, misery adores me

I wanna break out and get away I wanna just try and live for me 'Cause if we don't try then we won't believe that we could have had it I wanna let go, and fall for you And when it gets rough, be your parachute I wanna do the things that you only read about Are you ready?I'm done with small town politics I need to make my way to where the action is I'm done with it, so the question is Are you coming with? 'Cause baby, if you like, I'll take you there Imagine all the places we could go to disappear Or we could turn the light off and go back to bed Stare at the stars on your ceiling and pretend that we're somewhere else

I wanna break out and get away I wanna just try and live for me 'Cause if we don't try then we won't believe that we could have had it I wanna let go, and fall for you And when it gets rough, be your parachute I wanna do the things that you only read about Are you ready?

We don't need a God to take a leap of faith Listen when I say that if we don't try (that if we don't try) Then we won't believe (then we won't believe

)I wanna break out and get away I wanna just try and live for me 'Cause if we don't try then we won't believe That we could have had it I wanna let go, and fall for you And when it gets rough, be your parachute I wanna do the things that you only read about Are you ready? Are you ready? 'Cause I'm ready I wanna do the things that you only read about Are you ready?

-Parachute // Neck Deep 

‘Cause if we don’t try, we won’t believe that we could have had it...come on baby, let’s play this game and maybe this will be it for both of us. 

I know you've suffered But I don't want you to hide It's cold and loveless I won't let you be denied

Soothing I'll make you feel pure Trust me You can be sureI want to reconcile the violence in your heart I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask I want to exorcise the demons from your past I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

You trick your lovers That you're wicked and divine You may be a sinner But your innocence is mine

Please me Show me how it's done Tease me You are the one

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask I want to exorcise the demons from your past I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

Please me Show me how it's done Trust me You are the oneI want to reconcile the violence in your heart I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask I want to exorcise the demons from your past I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

You’ve been telling me that I have a lot to offer. Just with my presence I lighten up your office and my way of being blunt and honest cracks you up and not every girl has that trait. You tell me that I shouldn’t be afraid to be myself. You want me to take my mask off and show you all of my scars.