#(and does WILLINGLY under the table for the person he claims abused him into having DID)

[enbygunderson]

Kinda with the conservatives on this one; with the sheer number of you that'll guiltlessly lie about being disordered just for attention and clout, I can only imagine what lengths you'd all go to the moment it involved monetary benefits. Yes, multi-million dollar companies like WalMart need to pay their employees enough instead of relying on social security nets to cover the bill, but we ALSO need to make sure benefits are going to people who legitimately need them.

[play-now-my-lord]

mgs5 characters at olive garden

skull face: Has a sirloin and pasta. Constantly tries to abuse the staff with xenophobic anti-Italian bits. None of them are Italian but they're still kind of bummed out. Pays his bill, tips 15% venom snake: Keeps having panic attacks at the concept of "Family", cannot actually enter Olive Garden kazuhira miller: Tries to fill up on breadsticks, and when they cut him off just keeps asking for refills on water until he's visibly squirming under the table. Won't leave until the restaurant closes. Does not accrue a bill or tip service revolver ocelot: Orders a plate of shrimp scampi out of apparently lifelong curiosity. Orders a second serving out of hunger, then a third out of spite. When presented with a bill, he flashes his piece and claims to be a police officer code talker: Will not willingly eat at Olive Garden because it sucks. If somehow compelled to, orders an appetizer and the check, leaves within twenty minutes of ordering, and tips 20% quiet: Is immediately ejected from Olive Garden for violating their no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service policy huey emmerich: Repeatedly demands access to "the secret menu"; after giving up, proceeds to order a bottle of cheap, recent white wine, then demands a new bucket of fresher ice as soon as it arrives. After drinking the entire bottle in the space of 5 minutes, he orders another. Huey is a sad drunk and spends over an hour blubbering to the server about his personal problems, which mostly consist of the many ways his co-workers have failed him. He pays his bill and does not tip

[always-and-forever-pan]

Double standards in the MCU?

I don't know if it's just Tiktok fans but I've been seeing a lot of "double standards in the MCU" posts but I feel like y'all missing some really big points on the issue. Like yeah the MCU does have double standards, in its directors, its actors, it’s scripts, it’s promotion and creation of minority driven movies, and its fan base. But not entirely for the reason y’all are saying.

I see a lot of “Fans love males, hate females” but I never seen anyone actually looking into the differences of their actions. The actions are just looked at on a surface level and dismissed. But we have HOW many movies giving us depth and backstory that needs to be considered for it too.

* Tony: people forgive Tony's actions because they are a result of Abuse, neglect, addiction, and mental illness. Yes Tony was a narcissist and a piece of shit when we first met him. Yes, what consequences he did face are not enough for what we know he actually did/ willingly had a hand in doing. But when confronted with the truth that his complacency and ignorance was hurting innocent people he made efforts to change. No he is not evil for making weapons because he only willingly sold them the the USA government. Yes there needed to be an inquest and consequences for his wilful ignorance in his business partner being able to sell under the table and we didn’t get that.

* Barton: Yes he was a murderer, a serial killer, an assassin and then when convenient for him he buried the truth of Ronin and pretended like it didn't happen. No he should not be allowed to go free. But Barton kept those criminal actions to the crime world. He wasn't hurting innocents, he was going after Mobs, Mafias, murderers and the like. So yeah, his actions are HORRIFIC, but not as bad as they could have been. (And no, I don’t particularly like Barton in the MCU mostly because until his show there was no character development too like)

* Loki: I'm a Loki fan and I do believe that he is so easily forgiven because he's attractive. But the main point I see being raised against him is the New York invasion. You have to remember that he was being mind controlled by Thanos/ his forces during that time. Yes we know Loki had some sort of agency in order to deliberately botch the invasion and make it possible for the hero's to win. Yes Loki should have faced repercussions for that. Yes it is really horrific to think about. No I don't believe a luxury jail cell was repercussions enough. HOWEVER because of the mind control there should have been a diminished capacity allowance made clear.

* Carol: All the posts I’ve seen are claiming she’s arrogant and cocky as if it’s a bad thing. But Danvers is an intergalactic warrior, she was a air woman at a time when she would have been constantly ridiculed. If she wasn’t wearing arrogance and pride as armour she would have never survived. ALSO: She deserves to be! Danvers did boss ass things and should be celebrated BECAUSE of those traits. And YES I do believe there is a double standard in her treatment both by fans (Predominantly male because the females seem to love her) and by the writers but its not in the way the Tiktok fans seem to want to make it.

* Wanda: I’m a comics fan of her character (What little I have seen at least) but I’m not an MCU fan. They introduced us to her character by making her an adult aged VOLUNTEER for Neo-Nazi human experimentation, then she joins a GENOCIDAL ROBOT only switching sides when she realises she will be killed as well. She deliberately goes out of her way to cause harm to a non-combatant civilian population by proxy. And yes, she fights with the good guys and it is heart breaking that Pietro died at the end of that movie, but personal loss and fighting to ensure you own survival does not excuse terrorist actions/ being complacent with terrorist actions. 

---> I also see a lot of posts saying that what Wanda did in Westview was the same as what Loki did in Avengers or what Druig did in Eternals. And in some ways I agree, all mind raped people, and forced their will and beliefs on a group. BUT! Loki had a diminished capacity due to the control over his own mind, that does not mean he has no fault, just less. Druig took control to stop violence/ have the human successfully protect each other, and while forcing ones own will on people will always be bad I do believe we can agree that doing so to STOP violence is comparatively less bad. 

But Wanda, however accidental, took control for a selfish reason. She WANTED the life she had envisioned, yes it was a mental breakdown and driven from grief and so I personally believe that she should not be held accountable for the initial action given its accidental nature. BUT she continued to maintain and manipulate that control throughout her show. We’re shown several times that she is fully conscious of her actions (The drone becoming a helicopter, rewinding the hazmat suit/ bee keeper suit guy, exiting the hex to warn SWORD away and then entering again, evicting Monica, and so on) which means she simply didn’t WANT to give up that control. SURE, maybe she didn’t know how people where suffering with her in their minds, maybe she didn’t clue on to the fact that she’d locked kids away other than when she wanted them, maybe she didn’t know that stuff. BUT she still did it, she still grew the hex and took others into that position, she didn’t care to know meaning wilful ignorance. So while I’ll take a diminished capacity in consequences I will not accept the idea that she is innocent. (And that makes me mad because I WANT to like her)

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, SCAR! You’ve been accepted for the role of CRESSIDA. Admin Julie: Scar, your app for Celeste was phenomenal. You had us hooked from the first plot in a way that we loved. You demonstrated through both your prose and plots that Celeste is a multifaceted woman with many masks, capable of cruelty and kindness in one without even knowing it -- something we often look for in portrayals but don't always find. Your emphasis on her own personal selfishness was a cherry on top of the cake, too, a breath of fresh air, a reminder that not everyone in Verona is for the greater good. Some people, like Celeste, are only trying to survive; you demonstrated that beautifully. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Alias | Scar.

Age | 22.

Preferred Pronouns | She/her.

Activity Level | I should be good to hop on two-four times a week for replies and I’m generally available for chatting on Discord.

Timezone | MST.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Celeste Duval / Cressida

What drew you to this character? | Celeste is wholly representative of her name. She’s made of stars and moonshine, of infinitely growing forces trapped by bone and flesh. We romanticize the stars and gaze upon them in all their glory but fail to acknowledge the birth of one is one of the most violent things that can happen in the universe. And that’s the same story with Celeste. We can fall in love with her and her starry eyes and dazzling personality but we’re blind to the annihilation that’s tucked behind her molars and the poison that laces her honeyed words. She’s a representation of all our strongest feelings— love and anger, fear and confidence, lust and disgust— intertwined and mangled to the point of not knowing where one emotion ends and the next begins. Characters who are cold and detached are the ones perceived as the biggest threats but really, what is more dangerous than hot-blooded emotion?

Celeste has always been too much, too curious for her own good, rising above her place, her gender, demanding in the way that was only accustomed to the boy kings, slamming their tiny fists on the table and asserting their power, their wealth, their gender. No one knew what to do when it came from Celeste. Her father gave up on her the moment he realized he couldn’t control her, and her mother quickly followed suit. But she wouldn’t be so easily spurned. She’s brilliant, was the thing. Power has surged through her veins from the moment she realized she was a woman in a man’s world. She’s learned to compensate for her delicate features and by being so lethal that she couldn’t be ignored. Her intelligence has been sharpened to a point, carefully tucked away beneath girlish laughs and an effervescent smile. She’s as cunning as her father and twice as subtle and this is perhaps where his resentment of her lay: he had condemned her to a life of mediocracy and she had looked him in the eye to be anything but.

Her bones are made of diamond — made of wrath and jealousy and spite and scorn — but her heart is soft and that is perhaps her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. She’s been groomed to be cynical through the environment she was raised in but her heart is untouched. There are moments when she wishes to let the cruelest parts of her take hold but her heart will deny that pleasure, favouring to neatly fold that pain and tuck it away in the back of her head— a momento. The beating organ works as a filter, combing through the pain to find slivers of humanity to ground her. She allows tears to freely cascade over soft cheeks and laughs so loud that the room shakes. She dances naked under the moonlight without a care in the world and smashes fine china against marble countertops at the slightest inconvenience. Her heart is a wild and unstable organ and that is why she’s akin to the stars.

God truly is a woman and she comes in the form of Celeste Duval.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

I AM THE KNIFE THAT WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN | At twenty-three years old, does anyone really know who they are or what they’re doing with their life? Celeste, I believe, is no exception to this. She’s twenty-three years old and her whole life has been laid out for her. Yet somehow, she’s managed to spit in the face of everyone and everything and walk away with a cherry-sweet smile. She’s had a childhood that calcified her bones into diamond and walked into a position that sharpened her teeth into daggers. She’s filled with a childish, bullish swagger that really only twenty-three years olds can possess and she’s made it work for her.  In her rise to power, she’s made enemies, and she’s stepped over corpses to get where she is. She’s manipulated people and hurt them and she has never paid such cruelty much mind. In her head, she’s had to endure it her whole life, so why shouldn’t they? And then it all came to bite her in the ass.

I think this journey is going to be the most interesting part of Celeste’s story to explore. A girl who had nothing but her own mind to keep her warm; she built herself into a skyscraper only to be the reason she herself lost everything. I think she so desperately clings to the structure she’s created for herself that when the beams start to break and the foundation starts to crack, she sticks bandaids on it and prays it away. Blurring the lines of this strong, powerful woman that she’s scripted into her bones contrasting the scared, little girl that rests at her core is going to be something that bleeds together and becomes nothing more than a mess of a woman. Is she on a slow descent to which rock bottom is the destination or will she scrounge together the ambition akin to her name and slip her way out of life’s razor-sharp hold? Will she snap after being used and abused for so much of her life or continue living with a noose around her neck?

This plot is centred around Celeste finding her own identity through both who she is at her core and the persona that she’s created for herself. It’s about navigating through her crashing waves of emotion in a tiny sailboat and solidifying who she is in this world. Celeste has done an exceptional job of sweeping things under the rug. Her parents— deal with it later. Her marriage — deal with it later. Yet now, it is later and I’d like to explore her actually having to come to terms with all of it.

ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY | Despite unwillingly joining the mob, Celeste has manifested what she wants: power and influence. Perhaps she doesn’t have the same commanding presence as some of her peers, especially given her whimsical nature, but she stands in the ranks with a sure-footedness that comes from knowing how to wield her weapons. She holds the title of emissary and she takes pride in what she does. She’s spent her life yielding to men and their desires that it only made sense to spin it into gold. This plot is focussed on Celeste reclaiming her power and has two central ideas: deciding how much of it she gives to the mob and how much of it she gives to Easton.

I don’t believe Celeste has any true loyalty to the Montagues. She is truly only loyal to herself, a selfish trait she’s sure must have been passed down by her father. Living a life of obligation has fitted her into her role in the mob but like she had done in the role of daughter, of wife, she broke free of the box she had been slotted in and it’s only a matter of time before she breaks her role in the mob. Like her namesake, Cressida is synonymous with betrayal so I believe loyalty is an integral aspect of her character that I’d like to explore. Whether it be at the hands of Easton or of her own volatile will, I believe Celeste will eventually tug too hard at the strings that bind her to the Montagues and fall from the heavens straight to the pits of hell. Celeste herself, has always stood confidently in the morally grey area– having to choose to remain loyal to the Montagues versus willingly double-crossing them is something I’d like to explore in time. Because to openly betray them means to free herself of Easton’s chains but also means to subject herself to purgatory for the rest of her life.

Specifically in regards to Easton, the villain of her story, I’d like to see her fight back. Perhaps not directly but in the form of getting close to him without getting close to him. Befriending his friends, finding his weakness so she can rip out his heart and consume it whole. Her ambition is perhaps her greatest strength, so I’d like to see her really in the weeds with this one; making under-the-table deals, initiating secret arrangements, holding out bribes, the works. She’s got a knack for fluttering her lashes and playing the naive little girl so if it means burrowing her way between the ribcage of a couple Capulets to weasel her way into Easton’s life, so be it. In addition, I’d like to see her potentially reaching out to someone in the Montague ranks as a “mentor” under the guise of wanting to expand her repertoire of deadly skills to figure out how she can finally put an end to Easton’s story.

I RIP APART THE INSTRUMENTS OF MY IMPRISONMENT | Celeste looked up to her father from the day she was born and with every fibre of her being, craved his love. Never once did she receive it, and she watched on bitterly as he ignored her and berated her. All these years later, she claims she’s over it, but has Celeste really ever gotten over anything in her whole life? No. Even if she can’t admit it, she needs approval with a desperation she finds sickening and if she was able to cut out that piece of her soul, she would. I think this would translate into her position in the mob— craving the approval from superiors and peers. Breaking free is a recurring theme in Celeste’s life and it was born in removing herself from her father’s stifling hold.

There are two elements of this plot— the first is exploring her stepping out from her father’s shadow and reclaiming the Duval name. What did she have to do to achieve that? How has it changed people’s perceptions of her and her family name? Do people look past her doe eyes and bouncy curls to see the venom underneath her tongue? Part of this journey includes her position as an emissary in the Montague ranks. I believe this goes above just using her sexuality for her own benefit and touches on the idea of sexual extortion— which is something to explore her own feelings about. Was it something that she naturally saw fit for herself or something that was coaxed upon her, whispers to play to her strengths echoing in her ear? Her sexuality was something she used to break free from the chains of her childhood and the journey of weaponizing it is something I think is integral to her character.

The second element ties into her destruction arc from the previous two plots, and her own made-up feeling of being rejected from the Montagues because of her silent betrayal. The desperation to be accepted and praised is what inspired her rise to power and it’s what keeps her fueled. I believe Celeste has the potential to be obsessed with trying to overcompensate for Easton’s blackmail because of the yearn of approval from her peers. This is inspired by her connection to Lawrence and the tension between them but I think while she’s contemplating her own loyalties to the mob, this doubt she has of Lawrence and his reciprocated distrust, I believe it would sow the seed of paranoia in her. While her internal struggle of loyalty plays out, this paranoia would take over everything and anyone who disagreed with her or tried to stop her, she would wonder if they knew of her deceit.

IN AGONY, IN LOVE, IN WORRY | Celeste has a healthy amount of tenderness for Tomas. It’s not love but maybe in another timeline it could be. He allows her to be whoever she desires to be and makes no attempt to change her, accepts every part of her without hesitation, and asks for nothing in return. Both of them are so full of feeling, two sides of the same coin that perhaps, if the circumstances were different, they could have been soulmates. But in this reality, she wields his affection like a sword, aimed directly at his own heart to keep him at bay. It’s only when she has the upperhand that she feels at ease and she knows as long as she holds his affections under lock and key, she will always have the upperhand. I think she can feign the love he craves, give into his desires just enough to satiate him and over times, playing the part has worn a hole in her ribcage just large enough for a trickle of softness to spill through.

But then there’s Isabella. Oh Isabella. All wildfire and passion, who truly brought meaning to the word love. I believe what Celeste has with them is an all-consuming love. Celeste’s whole heart belongs to Isabella and the strain of her marriage, of the mob, of Easton, has cast a shadow on the purest love, dimming it’s shine to a faint glow. But more than that, I believe a lot of Celeste’s personal choices will put a strain on her relationship with Isabella and they will put Celeste in a place where she’s forced to make the decision of how far she’ll go for this relationship. This potentially comes down to Celeste having to choose between the reputation and image she’s fashioned for herself and the true desires of her heart.

Ahh, both of these relationships I’m so invested in already but the destruction of both is so close I can almost taste it. I’d like to explore both of these relationships, Tomas and Isabella, and the rise and fall of it. The growing suspicion in her marriage and her attempts to smooth it over with Tomas while navigating the yearn for Isabella without allowing herself to fall completely head-over-heels.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. :(

IN-DEPTH

001. | She didn’t quite know why she returned as often as she did. Perhaps it was the obligation that was sewn into her skin, tugging and pulling and reminding her whenever she moved. Perhaps it was the sheer pleasure she got out of seeing them grow old, the life slowly dwindling out of them until they would collapse in a pile of bones that she would use to feed her dogs.

“Shouldn’t you be in your own house?”

“I’m here for you, Papa.” The reply is curt and she doesn’t need to turn away from the stove to see the flare of his nostrils, the inability to accept help from anyone, let alone his worthless daughter.

“You think you’ll get this house?” A barking laughter falls from his lips, “Your favourite place in Verona, hm? Or is that the whorehouse?” The comment tries to grip onto her but her armour has been sanded to a perfectly smooth metal so it slides off, forming a puddle beneath her feet. Stupid man.

“Actually,” she replies airily, a sickly sweet smile painted on her face as she places the boiling cup in front of him, “It’s wherever they plan to bury you.” She offers him a glance and this time she relishes the flare of his nostrils.

002. | Morning light forces its way through the french windows, dark lashes fluttering as she roused from her sleep, amber curls tousled from a night of turning fitfully on a silk pillow. With a deep sigh, she turns in the satin sheets, an attempt to reclaim a couple moments of sleep. Before her lashes can press together, her gaze settles on Isabella laying next to her, eyes sparkling as their lips stretch into a smile.

“Good morning, mon chou.”

“So, I get you all to myself today, hm? Do I get to live through a typical day of Celeste Duval?” The other’s teasing smile reflects Celeste’s as she draws herself closer.

She let out a breathy laugh, closing it off with a firm kiss on the other’s lips. “A typical day, hm? So you want to spend the day with little ol’ moi? ” A manicured hand moves up to cup Isabella’s cheek, a kittenish smile pulling at her lips. “Well then we’ll spend the morning in bed.” A kiss on the cheek. “Order more than we can eat from the pâtisserie on main street…” A kiss on the temple. “Then get all done up for a day on the town. Maybe indulge in a bit of shopping.” Her fingers trail along the other’s lithe form, following the dips and curves of their body. “Then we’ll take a bath together— a bubble bath, of course, complete with the finest wine Italy has to offer.”

She leaves out the bloodbaths and the cheating and the blackmailing and the copious amounts of self-pity.

“Sounds nice, oui?”

003. | Velvet gloves press against the mahogany door, pushing it open to reveal the hundred saints staring down at her with accusatory glances, demanding to know why they died for her sins. She walked down the pews, one step at time, head never bowed, gaze never faltering. It had occurred to Celeste that perhaps her confession didn’t do her much good if she bore no remorse in committing. Yet the click of her heels echoed as she made her way to the confessional booth.

Her confession was a silent one. Not for a priest or clergy, but for her and God alone. Her eyes closed and her head finally lowered. What was her sin that she should confess to— her biggest mistake thus far in life? Was it breaking her promise to her husband or offering false hope to her lover? Was it praying each night the man who raised her would choke on his dinner just once and just die? Was it the way she wore the title of whore with a kittenish smile and a too-short hemline, or the way she relished the feeling of hot blood on her hands?

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

Yet that was as far as she got before she was interrupted. Though it was not the glorious bells of the cathedral but rather the chiming that came from the Chanel bag at her feet. With that, she stood up and shrugged her bag back over her shoulder. The confession was still perched on the tip of her tongue and yet she no longer felt the weight of her sins on her shoulders.

004. | Her eyes are shining and wet. Her back straightens, and she fingers the fabric of her skirt, looking down at her shoes as he stands there in silence. There is nothing but silence as she tries to fathom what he is saying, and she nearly stumbles back, almost ashamed by his honesty. Why was he doing this? She was too bold, too brilliant, too breathtaking for a life of dim characters and colours. She was too good for this shit city and yet here he was, trying to cut her off at the knees.

He, on the other hand, is nothing special. If men were skyscrapers then he would be a faint grey building, flickering in the corner of the taller, angry rectangles dusting the clouds with their hats. If she were riding in an airplane down, she probably wouldn’t even be able to spot his shape. But he was hers and she was his and they were bound by an eternal string, fraying more and more by the minute.

I’ve never asked much of you, my love. His words echo in her ear, the one thing: to stay faithful to me. Surely that can’t have been the hardest task you’ve been asked of… Or is it?

“I don’t know who’s putting these vile thoughts in your head, my darling,” she coos, a reassuring hand, cupping his cheek. Her words are soft, but the slight undertone of frustration is simmering below the surface, threatening to spill over. “We’re married, aren’t we? Til death do we part.” And with that, she seals her vow with a saccharine kiss, the knot unclenching from her stomach as she felt him relax into her. A honeyed lie was better than a poisoned truth, wasn’t it?

005. | She was fixing herself tea in the parlour when the doorbell rang. She smoothed out her skirt — a silk dress hand-stitched with Egyptian cotton hugging her figure (custom-made for her by Saint Laurent), pearls decorating her décolletage (a wedding gift), and diamonds piercing her ears (well, those were just an indulgence). Even at home, she dressed for any occasion.

Standing before her is a man she’s come to hate, a man she’d go to bed every night praying he would drop dead. Easton Craven. Her cheeks are ruddy with the colour of shame, and as she lengthens herself, spitting at him in hushed tones.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you not to come to my house.”

He only smiles in return, pushing his way through the entrance and into the foyer of the manor. “Visiting a friend, of course. I’m rather upset you haven’t invited me over before.” He speaks with his back to her, stopping to gaze up at a painting decorating the wall. “Did Tomas pick this out?” The question mocks her and she has to bite her tongue.

She could kill him. The thought flits through her mind and solidifies itself at the front of her skull. She could kill him and claim self-defense; a home invasion turned on its head. Before the thought can even fully form itself, his lips curl upward into a cruel smirk. He knows she won’t do it. Not because she can’t but because they’re similar in this way. He wouldn’t have come here without a back-up, something to hold over her head even if he was lying dead, bleeding out on her Persian rug. So she smothers the thought and clears her throat expectantly.

“Now tell me, Celeste, what are your thoughts on this war? The Montagues, the Capulets— does any of it even mean anything to you? You’re so quick to betray that I really am curious what you think.”

“Go to hell,” she snarls back. He’s right though, it really doesn’t mean anything to her, and perhaps that’s the worst thing of all.

[elleberquist6]

Stray Cat - chapter twenty-five

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2124 Warnings: Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut Summary: Phil Lester believes that if he does good things then good things will happen to him, so on one of the worst days of his life he invites a rain-soaked Neko boy named Dan into his home. Phil has never met a Neko before and he knows nothing about the dark system that has molded Dan. Dan is part of a repressed population with few rights, and as Phil gets to know him he can’t understand why – Dan is the most amazing person he has ever met. —

Dan was staring at the wall blankly when a noise at the door startled him. It was Jimmy, but he didn’t have a tray of food. “What is it?”

A wave of fear hit him as he thought for a moment that Jimmy had come to make another pass at him. Dan wasn’t sure what he would do. He recalled the moment where he had threatened to bite Jimmy with an odd sense of distance, as if that had been another person who said those words. All of his boldness and fighting spirit had left him; they had broken him.

“Just came to tell you that you’ll be leaving us this afternoon. You’ve been sold.”

“Oh,” Dan said, his voice more even than he had expected it to be when he heard this news. He had heard this once before in his life from Mr. Smith. He felt numb and couldn’t decide which time had been worse. Mr. Smith had taunted him and promised how awful his life would be now. Jimmy just stood there, but he didn’t need to say anything – Dan knew what was going to happen to him.

Dan remembered that he had been curious last time and he had asked Mr. Smith how much, but he only had one question for Jimmy. “Who was it? Who bought me?”

“How the hell would I know?” Jimmy said. He turned to leave. “Be ready to go in a few hours.”

Dan looked around his small cell, but there was nothing to get ready if he had wanted to – nothing to pack, nothing to entertain him, no way to escape. He lay down in bed. This place was awful, but he could be going to somewhere so much worse. This place could seem like heaven in comparison, so he tried to get some rest while he could.

A hand shook his shoulder to wake him. Dan opened his eyes and cringed away when he saw it was Jimmy. Jimmy glared at his reaction. “Time to go. Your owner is here.”

Dan had heard those words before. He had been taken to a room where a man with dark hair salted with gray had put a tight collar around his neck and then led him out of the building on a leash. Dan’s heart pounding, realizing that it could be him come back to claim him. Or it could be someone even more awful. Fear froze him in place and he didn’t move as Jimmy looked at him expectantly.

Jimmy sighed and tugged on his arm. “Get up. Get up or I’ll call help and we’ll drag you out of here.”

Dan stood on shaking legs and followed Jimmy, who kept a tight grip on his arm. “Who bought me? I want to know.”

“What does it matter? You’re about to meet him.” Jimmy led him up a staircase.

Dan’s body seemed to be rebelling. He felt like he was walking towards a fire in a burning building, and all of his instincts were telling him to run the other way. His palms were sweating, his legs felt like they were about to buckle beneath him, and his heart was trying to beat out of his chest.

Jimmy led him around the corner to a hallway full of doors. Jimmy announced, “They said he’s in room 3.”

As Jimmy was reading the numbers written on the panels beside the doors, Dan tried to pull his arm free. He had an insane idea that maybe he could find the way out and escape now that he was above ground. Jimmy’s hand was like a vise on his arm though, and Dan couldn’t escape even as he put his entire weight behind it.

Jimmy started cursing under his breath and then snapped, “Bitch, come on! The door is right there. Don’t make this difficult.”

“Fuck off, let go!” Dan fell to his knees in his attempt to get away, but the best that he could do now was to not take another step. He couldn’t get away, but he refused to walk to that door. He gasped as Jimmy gave his arm a painful tug, knowing it was bruised.

“Walk! You fucking asshole, get up.” Jimmy pulled him, and Dan slid a couple inches down the tiled hallway. Dan whimpered and he felt tears start running down his cheeks.

Again, he had to wonder if morals and principles were more trouble than they were worth. Pride had made him refuse to walk willingly into this awful fate, but what good was pride to a Neko? No one cared if he stood up for himself – the world was going to keep beating him down until there was nothing left.

Jimmy kept pulling him down the hallway, cursing loudly in his annoyance, and Dan was fully sobbing now as he was aware that every inch brought him closer to whoever was behind that door, and the pain he felt now was nothing compared to what he was likely to feel under the hands of that person. He had felt numb when he was told that he was sold, but the numbness was gone and fear consumed him. He wanted to float out of his body and leave this place, flying far away.

Then the door of room 3 opened. A man looked curiously down the hall, his attention seeming to be drawn by the noise. The man was tall with pale skin and dark hair. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his blue eyes were wide. It was Phil.

“What the hell are you doing to him? Let go.” Phil ran over to them and shoved Jimmy aside.

Dan looked up. The image of Phil above him was made blurry by tears – the fluorescent lights seemed to be dancing with light on the ceiling above Phil’s head. He still couldn’t believe it, despite seeing what room Phil came out of, so he asked, “It was you? You bought me?”

“Yes, they didn’t tell you?” Phil knelt before him as Dan shook his head. He put a hand behind Dan’s head and tilted it, seeming to inspect him for injuries; his eyes lingered on the cheek where Dan had been slapped. “Are you okay?”

Dan didn’t respond, but he glanced at Jimmy.

Phil shot the man a glare, but his attention quickly returned to Dan. “Come with me.”

Dan didn’t hesitate to follow Phil into room 3. The room was small and only held a sofa, two armchairs, a coffee-table with magazines, and a watercooler. Phil shut the door between them and Jimmy – they were alone now – and he led Dan to the sofa and pulled him gently to it. His eyes were still moving over him, checking Dan for more injuries.

“Can we leave?” Dan asked. He was still absorbing the fact that he was here with Phil, when he had accepted the fact that he was probably never going to see him again.

“Yes, we’re free to go.” Phil glanced at a folder on the table. “I’ve got all the paperwork done. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay first. You look like a firm breeze could knock you over.”

Dan ignored this and stared at the folder, which must contain his bill of sale. “You really did it? You bought me?” His voice was rough from the abuse his throat had suffered, and his tone was flat with disbelief.

Phil became very still as he watched Dan carefully. “Are you mad that I did it?” Dan looked at him, realizing that Phil had mistaken his reaction for disappointment or anger. Phil started speaking too quickly for Dan to respond. “Because I don’t like the idea of legally owning you either, but I didn’t know what else to do. I have been so scared that I would never see you again, and buying you seemed like it was the only way to get you back. It’s just a piece of paper to me, Dan. It means that we can walk out of here together.”

Dan nodded, hoping that Phil would see in his face that he wasn’t angry, just exhausted in every sense of the word. “I understand. I’m not mad, I’m grateful. And I’m already yours, but not because of the paperwork – I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’m yours.” Phil leaned forward to place a quick kiss on Dan’s forehead. He brushed Dan’s hair back and then tilted his head to look at the mark on Dan’s cheek again. “Please tell me if you’re okay. What happened?”

Dan shook his head. “It was nothing, just a slap. I’m fine. Phil, can we go home?”

“Home…” Phil looked away. “Dan, were you very attached to my apartment? Because there have been some changes.” He saw the alarm on Dan’s face. “We’re going back there, don’t worry! It’s just there’s not much besides the bed, a sea of boxes, and we won’t be staying long. Are you going to miss it very much?”

“We’re going to keep living together? Just somewhere else?” Dan asked, and Phil nodded in answer. “Then of course not, you spork. I’d be happy if you told me we were going to live on the side of the road. I don’t care, as long as you’re there.”

Phil smiled. “Oh, I’m a spork, am I? Well, we’re not going to be living on the side of the road. We’re moving in with my parents. Don’t give me that look – I don’t mind as long as you’re there. You’re my home.”

A smile wavered on his lips. Objectively, he knew that he was happy, but it was so hard to completely feel it at the moment. After everything he had felt since being separated from Phil, his emotions were like a live wire and he was afraid to touch them – even the good emotions – lest he get a shock. Phil was eyeing him with concern again, so Dan said, “You have no idea what it means to me to hear that. I didn’t think I was going to see you again, let alone get a chance to be with you. I’m so overwhelmed right now that I don’t even… I don’t know what to feel right now.”

Phil stroked Dan’s hair with such tenderness that it brought tears brimming to Dan’s eyes. “That’s okay, Kitten. I can understand why you’re overwhelmed, but don’t worry about anything. I’m going to take care of you now. Everything is going to be okay.”

Dan sniffled and wiped at his eyes to dry them. “I think I’ll save falling apart for later. Can we go? I know it’s not rational, but I have this awful feeling that someone is going to come in this room and tell me that there’s been a mistake and I can’t leave with you.”

Phil’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Now you’ve got me fearing the same thing. Let’s go.”

Dan trailed behind Phil, who seemed to know the way out. A couple minutes later, they were outside on the street. It was slightly overcast – they were in London of course – but it still took Dan’s eyes a moment to painfully adjust to the light after spending so many days in a windowless room. Phil waited at his side, looking concerned again, and when a brisk breeze swept past he handed Dan his jacket. Dan accepted; he wasn’t that cold, but he was wearing white pajamas, and he wanted to cover up from the people on the street who were giving him odd looks as they walked past.

“Ready to go?” Phil asked. Before Dan could respond, Phil’s phone rung and he answered. “Martyn! I forgot to call you. Yeah, I got him. Everything is fine. We’re okay.”

As they started to walk down the sidewalk while Phil talked to his brother, Phil held onto the cuff of the jacket that Dan was wearing, like he was afraid Dan would disappear if he didn’t hold onto him. Dan didn’t mind, since he was realizing that Phil must have had a hard time without him, and he couldn’t imagine what he would have done if he had come home to find Phil missing. Dan pulled the sleeve out of Phil’s grip and replaced it with his hand.

Phil looked at him, holding the phone away from his mouth. “Martyn wants to know if we’ll come to his house to dinner. He’s promising something nice to celebrate your homecoming.”

Dan shrugged. “Sure, sounds nice. Tell him ‘thanks’.”

“Okay, good. I packed all our dishes already and if you didn’t want to go to Mar’s then we would be eating off Styrofoam.”

[lbc4nine-blog]

Mid-Week Sermon Recap 10.11.2017

Called for This Purpose

Hope Filled Living in a Culture of Despair

1 Peter 2:18-25

Pastor Bryan Clark

I want to begin by sharing something pretty profound. Here it is: Sometimes life isn’t fair! That’s the question we want to wrestle with: How do we as the people of God respond when people treat us unfairly?

We are working our way through 1 Peter, and we find ourselves in chapter 2. Peter has told us in verse 9 that we are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession. Why? So that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light. So how do we proclaim this life-changing message? We learned that God’s will for each of us as Christians is that we abstain from fleshly lusts and that we do right. We do good in order to silence the critics who want to slander us. Then he begins in chapter 2 to go through different, specific kinds of arenas or areas where we are to do good. Last week we looked at what it means to do good as a citizen in submission to the governing authorities. This week we pick it up in verse 18 and we talk about what it means to do good as slaves.

The word servants there is the Greek word that refers to a household servant. But it does open all kinds of discussion—things we need to talk about to make sense of this passage. Over the years I’ve heard some people say that the Bible promotes slavery. That would be a completely ignorant statement, both on the basis of not understanding what the Bible says, and not understanding 1st century Roman culture. To understand what happened here in America, there is no question that it was sinful, offensive, and it totally grieved the heart of God, for it was contrary to everything we believe as people made in the image of God, all of us equal before God in every way. In a 1st century Roman culture, slavery wasn’t race-based at all. Some of the slaves were prisoners of war; born into slavery because their mothers were in slavery; or people who willingly sold themselves into slavery so they could actually live better. Many slaves in the Roman Empire were highly educated—even more than their masters. They could own property and have families. Usually by about age thirty, slaves had purchased their own redemption and were considered to be free. Most of the slaves generally were treated decently, but slaves were considered to be the property of the master. Therefore, there was always potential for abuse and that did happen. In the 1st century Roman Empire you have to remember these are Christians, most of them Jewish, that have fled into Asia Minor, so they are strangers and aliens. There is a level of persecution that is about to intensify dramatically under Nero, so to imagine that these Christian slaves could somehow bring about dramatic change in the Roman Empire is really rather ridiculous.

The Bible isn’t promoting slavery, but Peter understands that many of these believers are slaves in a very dangerous environment. There is really nothing they can do to change it right now, so they need to be very thoughtful about how they live out their lives for their sake and for the sake of the other believers around them. These masters could pretty much do as they please with no recourse. So what he’s saying to these slaves is, “You need to be very thoughtful and aware of the potential damage they can do if you upset them.” As these people were coming to faith in Christ and understanding their freedom in Christ, there was a potential for rebellion. “I am now free; I don’t have to do that anymore.” That’s why Peter said to them, “Yes, it is true you are free in Christ, but you are not free to sin; you are not free to rebel. You are free to be a bondslave to Christ.” Basically the idea is this: that you as a Christian are part of the grace story. This amazing story where we once were not a people of God, were under condemnation —declared to be enemies of God—but now we are the people of God. Therefore, the idea is: if you are to respond rightly to those that treat you unfairly, it will reflect the reality of the grace story in our own lives. There’s something distinct; something that would cause the critics to back up and wonder what is going on and what makes this person different.

So let’s be clear. We’re talking about 1st century slaves with no real recourse when they are being treated unfairly. Peter is instructing them how to respond to rightly represent Christ. We would not understand that to mean that if someone in 21st century America is in some sort of an abusive relationship it somehow pleases God to just put up with it. That would be a terrible misunderstanding of the text. You were not a 1st century slave; you do have choices; you do have a recourse. God would not be pleased to see people just endure abusive relationships. So with that understanding, we move it to relationships that are difficult, unfair—ways you are treated at work, in your family, at school, or with a coach. What God is saying is, “I am asking you as a witness to the life-changing power of Jesus in you, to respond to those who treat you unfairly as I have responded to you, in order to proclaim the excellencies of Him who has taken us from darkness into His marvelous light.”

Now stop and think about how dramatically different this is than the culture in which we live. We as a culture are moving down this pathway of secularism—that everything in life is about me; it’s about what I think is right and wrong. Therefore, we are selfish and self-centered to the core, and because of that we are keenly aware of everything that seems unfair to us. We are constantly viewing ourselves as victims; we are offended by everything. Now one of the things that is interesting about this is that we, as a culture, claim that there are no moral absolutes. But nobody fully buys into this relativism; we all think there’s a sense of right and wrong, and when somebody violates that, we don’t hesitate to say so. I’ve been convinced for years that relativism is nothing more than an excuse to do as we please, but nobody actually lives that way. So in a culture that is so self-centered, that is constantly offended by everything, think how dramatic it would be if there was a group of people who responded with grace and mercy even when treated unfairly.

This isn’t a suggestion. The language is very strong; this is actually your calling. How do we declare the excellencies of the One who has transferred us from darkness into light? It’s not just with words; it’s not by leaving tracts on the table; it has to be something in our behavior that reflects the grace story—that something radical has happened within us that makes us different from the rest of the culture. It is a reminder that when we trusted Jesus as Savior, we did not board a cruise ship. This is not your best life now. There is a sense that you are on a mission, that there’s a responsibility to being the people of God. The last thing we want is fairness. Justice meant we were condemned; justice meant we are subject to God’s judgment for our sin. Fairness is hopelessness! We wanted grace and mercy—that we might be the people of God! This is what Christ did for you and he asks you to do the same for Him.

Now remember, this is Peter writing, who was an eye witness to the horrors of the cross. This is Peter who was with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane when the mob came to arrest Jesus. It was Peter who drew his sword and was ready to fight and cut off Malchus’ ear when Jesus stops him, looks him in the eye and says, “Peter, we are not going to do that here. Don’t you know if I wanted to, I could call down the armies of heaven?” Peter is now reflecting back on that— that this is what Jesus did for us willingly, choosing to respond this way in order that we might know salvation. If Jesus did that for us, if that is our story, then what He’s asking is that you see that as a pattern to follow in how you respond to people that treat you unfairly in this world.

How do we declare the excellencies of Him who has called us from darkness into light? It is with words, but it’s not with words alone. There has to be something in our behavior that is so radically other than the world in which we live, it causes people to back up and wonder, “Who are these people, and what is it that has made them so radically different?” When we respond with grace and mercy to those who treat us unfairly it gives people just a taste, just a foreshadowing of what God offers them if they are willing to accept His gift of salvation. This is not a suggestion; it is for this purpose that we have been called as the people of God.

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