#Bible-basher

[satanourunholylord]

God truly does love and watch over you always. You will find your way to Him in time if you just take a little bit out of your day to pray to Him because He is waiting and listening. Let your skeptic walls down and embrace His love and beauty in the world. Your heart glows with love for Him even if you don't know it yet because the spark is there in your heart but it's just been repressed by the lust and greed of the devil. May God be with you always and may you find your way eventually. Amen.

Not appreciated. You just wasted both our time on that message.

[diazsdimples]

Tommy can remember the day he knew he was going to kill Vincent Gerrard. Or, not kill exactly, but do some serious, irreparable damage to him. He'd kind of figured this day would come, if the way he felt like ripping the old man's mustache right off his face whenever Buck came home upset was anything to go by. He just didn't think it would happen quite so soon. He's held Buck plenty of times after rough shifts, where Gerrard would make him man behind for no other reason than "I want this place clean and perfectly organized. That's what you people do, isn't it?". He's heard enough stories from Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, about the abuse they were all getting but how most of Gerrard's hellfire seemed directed towards Buck.

But nothing could prepare him for the fury he felt when that day arrived.

He'd gotten a text from Eddie, a short and simple "he needs you", and he'd been in his car in a flash. The whole drive he'd been worrying, not sure what he'd be arriving to.

When he gets there, he knows it’s bad. Hen and Chimney are locked in a furious screaming match with Gerrard, their faces all varying shades of puce, and it looks like Hen's about to punch Gerrard in the nose, based off the hand Chimney has wrapped tightly around her wrist.

He spots Eddie and Buck immediately; they're in the locker room and Eddie has his arm around Buck's shoulders. When he looks up and locks eyes with Tommy, he can see the flames of rage licking behind Eddie's eyes. Buck's got his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking in a way that tells Tommy that he's crying. Tommy's across the station in 3 quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of Buck and taking his face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

"What the hell happened?" he asks Eddie, because Buck's not in any shape to breathe right now, let alone talk.

Eddie doesn't reply immediately, but his jaw ticks and he looks like he's carefully picking his words. Just as he's about to speak, Buck's voice, quiet and broken, cuts through the silence.

"He made me watch."

Tommy's brow furrows in confusion, and a ball of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. Buck swallows convulsively and even Eddie looks like he might throw up. It's bad.

"Watch what?" Tommy asks carefully. He doesn't want to push it, not if Buck isn't up to speaking, but he needs to know.

Eddie speaks up first, and his voice is shaky too.

"We were called to a massive haemorrhage at the Pride Event in West Hollywood. A man and his husband had been attacked by one of those bible bashers that stand there and tell everyone they're going to hell. A bystander said they'd been arguing with him and he pulled a knife. Got the first guy in the stomach, second just above his heart. There was nothing we could do."

Buck takes a deep breath, a whine issuing from the back of his throat. Tommy puts a hand around the back of his neck and rubs soothing circles just below his hairline.

"He made me watch," Buck repeats again, a little louder this time, and Tommy's heart clenches cause he knows, he fucking knows what Buck is going to say next. "He said "ride with Wilson, Buckley. This is a good opportunity for you to increase your medic skills." He knew they weren't going to survive but he made me...." Buck trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and Tommy's vision goes red. He's never hated anyone more than he hates Gerrard right now.

That is, until Buck finishes his sentence.

"He said "you might learn something valuable," but he wasn't talking about the job."

Buck's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white, and there's blood under his fingernails. Eddie's got a fistful of Buck's shirt clenched tightly in his fist and he looks like he's doing all he can to not run upstairs and tear Gerrard limb from limb.

There's a ringing in Tommy's ears and everything sounds kind of muffled, like his head is underwater. He's clutching the back of Buck's neck so hard that it's got to be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

When he left the military, Tommy made a vow that he would never take another man's life. But for this - for Gerrard - for what he did to Buck, the light of Tommy's life, he might just make an exception.

[princessbrunette]

thinking about pissed off jj calling lamb!reader lamb chop after like her being annoyingly crass and blunt the whole day😔🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

“look. we told your mommy that we’d look after you today and that’s exactly what we’re doin’ alright so — c’mon, all aboard.” jj reaches to you from the boat, his hand outstretched to help you on. the rest of the pogues watch you through curious lenses, waiting to see if you stray from your usual straight arrow ways. “arms gettin’ tired here, tuts.”

“tuts?” john b screws up his face as he mans the steering wheel.

“felt right.” jj shrugs one shoulder before waving his hand at you. reluctantly, you take it— letting him help you into the boat.

“no funny business. my curfew is 6, i hope you know that.” you fold your hands onto your lap, directing your comment towards john b who was driving the boat therefore responsible for your safe return in your eyes. in response, he salutes — more focused on getting the thing started. kiara rolls her eyes, still not sold on you, pope nods trying to be respectful and jj grins.

“theeeeres my little bible basher. y’know i went to sunday school right?” he clumsily shuffles over up to your side making you frown, side eyeing the blonde who was so entertained by your presence.

“thats rude, and no you didn’t.” you practically stick your nose in the air.

“uh, yeah, i did —” he squabbles, turning his body to face you more. you mirror this, eyeing the annoyingly handsome guy opposite you. “how’d you think we knew so much lore on the cross your mom was lookin’ for a while back. i already learnt about it. sunday school.” he taps your nose making you crinkle it. for a little priss, you sure were adorable.

“hm.” you tilt your head, eye squinting shut from the direct sunlight as you smile, impressed. “didn’t have you pinned as the type.”

“oh yeah?” he blinks.

“the guys at my sunday school were usually well mannered and well groomed.” you state, not even attempting to be rude — but your blunt ways got your message across. pope and john b chuckle, even adding insult to injury with a quiet “burn.” and even jj smirks, leaning back against the edge of the boat.

“well, i’m here to challenge your expectations, lil lamb.” he grins and you tilt your head.

“little lamb?” you question and he whips his hat off his head quickly to run long fingers through matted, sun damaged hair.

“uh, yeah? y’know — you’re little-r than me… n’like — you know? lamb? pure, virginal, cute…?”

“gross!” kiara shakes her head in quiet exasperation.

“you choose to nickname me based on my abstinence and devotion to the lord? well i find that rather crass.” you’re back to sticking your nose up and jj is throwing his hands in the air like he did nothing wrong.

“damn, alright lamb chop. my bad.”

you turn your head slowly to look at him, blinking innocently.

“lamb chop?”

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

[sempersirens]

DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot

masterlist

summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?

warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst

author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...

Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.

Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.

Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.

Still, nothing good came. 

“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck. 

“I was trying out solitude.” 

Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.

You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing. 

But this time, Joel doesn’t move. 

Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back. 

Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.

You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.

Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.

Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.

During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.

He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead. 

“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.

“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis. 

Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here. 

When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.

“She’s a good woman, Joel.” 

“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you. 

“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”

“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?” 

He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.

“Just don’t hurt her.” 

And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.

He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness. 

You didn’t make him wait for a ring.

Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean. 

And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours. 

Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.

But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.

“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.

“Then don’t. Come home.”

For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.

“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?” 

He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess. 

Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.

“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”

Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.

In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.

Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.

You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world. 

Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.

Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.

“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”

You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes. 

He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat. 

Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.

[boobi-boy]

I think the religious satire in good omens is so clever like I could literally talk about it forever. Especially the contrast between Aziraphale and Crowley. My favourite way to explain it is that Aziraphale represents the top to bottom thinking whilst Crowley represents the bottom to top thinking when approaching religion. Top to bottom thinking is essentially starting with the answer and twisting the question to fit. This is really common in real life bible-bashers. Here, the answer is always God. God always knows what is good, what is right and why anything happens at all. Why must the world end after 6,000 years? Because God said it should. Why must an eleven year old boy be the vehicle for Armageddon? God. Why can't an angel and a demon be friends? God wouldn't want it that way. Aziraphale is so indoctrinated by this mentality that it seems obvious to him. It entirely baffles him when Crowley doesn't subscribe to this way of thinking as well. Bottom to top thinking is beginning with the question and then finding the answer - this way of thinking is why science always prevails over religion in a structured debate. Why is the world ending after 6,000 years? Because Heaven and Hell both think that it should. What can be done to stop an eleven year old boy from being the vehicle for Armageddon? Neutralise him. Why is Crowley, a demon, close friends with an angel like Aziraphale? Because he enjoys his company and companionship. Crowley is like a projection of Aziraphale's future. It's even more than that, too. Crowley is all the people who got out. Who grew up/lived in in a toxically religious environment who have moved on and become disillusioned with God and with religion. Aziraphale is all the people still trapped in that environment that know that's not where they belong, but stay because they don't know anything else. It's a genius allegory for toxic mindsets some Christians live by and I am honestly obsessed with it.

[the-halls-of-hatchetfield-high]

Grace, bible basher means someone who constantly reads the bible and it’s an insult fyi

*Grace huffs and crosses her arms*

Well, that's not a very polite thing to call someone.

You know, you don't really live up to your name, Angel.

[sincerely-sofie]

One thing I will say is that saying you "disagree with the term queer" Is Not A Great Look, but that could easily be a me not getting the wording as intended thing - The above assumes you mean just, queer in general though it feels more like you might've meant in reference to yourself? (Which is entirely fine - I'm of the opinion that any given label should be opt-in to anyone who's genuine about it rather than mandatory.)

Really, the main important thing I appreciate is being able to accept others where they're at. Being able to just say "Yeah, sure, ok" and go along even if I don't personally understand is honestly one of my core beliefs* too, and with minimal disrespect it's nice seeing this from a Christian. The little I actually know suggests something worth looking into, and the notion of an eternal soul is something I find fairly agreeable (if not strictly the outcomes of that.) Then again, I'm someone whose personal experience with religion can be described as a tangled web of jokes that ran too long and accidentally became character traits, so, maybe not the best judge of anything here. Also, wow, this post got away from me quickly. Originally meant to just put in the first paragraph and call it good.

*I draw a hard line the second that personal belief starts meaning harm to others. Believe what you want about yourself, but anyone saying someone else needs to change their ways (bar the very beliefs this targets, primarily meaning bigotry/racists) because of a thing YOU feel a certain way about simply can't be tolerated.

Thanks for the critique! Looking back, I definitely should have written “disagree with the term queer FOR myself” (which was actually the original wording I drafted) rather than “disagree with the term queer myself”. I was trying to cut down on my wordiness as I edited my response, but I ended up just making it a confusing sentence to read. Curse my proofreading anxiety. 

I'll try not to get into it too much here because it'd probably derail this entire response to your ask, but I've got a lot of mixed feelings with most labels, especially ones that were formerly derogatory terms. My church has worked hard to pivot from being called “Mormons” because among other (honestly more important) reasons, the term was basically used as a snide and condescending way to refer to my church, and it quickly became the default phrase for addressing us. The fact that members of my faith were basically referring to themselves with an insult as I grew up in the church never really sat well with me, even if we took pride in it. I'm super impressed by those who can take once-painful words and make them into badges of honor, but for me personally, it's a real emotional minefield. Hence, in part, why I don't agree with using the term queer for myself. It's a matter of preference and personal implications.

Agh, I really rambled on for a while there. I hope that made sense.  

For your second paragraph— it's sad to me that so many people have had such disheartening experiences with Christians. I swear, most of us are loving people. There's just an unfortunate amount of very vocal bible-bashers who forget that God's greatest instructions to us were to love Him and love others. 

If you're interested, there's a lot of resources on my church’s website if you'd like to learn more about what we believe (though there's no pressure from me to read up on it!) I just felt like I should share because we don't believe in a Hell where people burn for all eternity. 

We believe in three different “kingdoms” that everyone will be sorted into, with interaction between them being possible so families and friends can visit each other if they end up divided. The least glorious kingdom (for lack of a better term) is still an absolutely amazing place, full of light and happiness. There is a sort of Hell called Outer Darkness that I guess anyone reading about could see it as a form of eternal punishment, but people choose to go there themselves— it's a form of willing separation from God that happens when people who have an absolutely perfect knowledge of the gospel still choose to go the opposite direction. It's not somewhere you go because you drank coffee or swore in life. That'd be ridiculous.

… I opened my mouth and a missionary came out. Oops. 

Anyhoo, that last paragraph is a big deal, Anon! People need to be able to choose for themselves what they'll do in their lives— any forced change is not change at all, and the second you do harm to another person that isn't in the defense of yourself or others, you're in the wrong. As you can probably tell from my tangent above, I'm an advocate for missionary work, which could be seen as telling people they need to change their ways, but the type of missionary work I stand behind is the kind that invites people to learn more— never forces— and respects when they say no. Always honor agency is my motto. Invite, don't incite. That sort of thing. 

Thanks again for the critique! I appreciate your willingness to send it in and share your thoughts. I'll add a link to this ask in my original post so that if anyone else is confused by my wording, they'll be able to see this and get some better information. 

[werewolf-cuddles]

Just saw someone on The Website Formerly Known As Twitter getting mad at a pair of women who posed with a lesbian pride flag in front of homophobic christian protestors for calling them "bible bashers" because apparently it's a "Christophobic slur"

Jesus christ, the victim complex these people have is unreal.

[atla-confessions]

Ship whoever the fuck you want

None of these characters are real, y'all just sound like bible bashers whenever you tell people they shouldn't ship two characters for whatever reason?

Canon ships are fine

Non canon ships are fine

Incest ships are fine

Two character who never even spoke are fine

It is not real, get over yourselves

X

[psalmonesermons]

Lessons from the Beatitudes Part 5

Summary of the Beatitudes Matthew 5:7-11

v.7 Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy; The Lord is our Shepherd, and He leads us on into the area of forgiveness. He showed us how it is done and now expects us to give it in the same way. We must show that same mercy to others especially the poor! In everyday terms this means dealing with offences, resentments, and even full-blown hate. Hurt produces anger and then resentment manifesting in grudges and thought and/or acts of hatred. Mercy costs us the sinful fleshly pleasure of revenge. The seeds of resentment will produce a bitter harvest in our lives. resentment is like an addictive drug...

We must sow mercy and forgiveness and then the world will see Christ in us because it knows the thrill of revenge.

v.8 Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God: We must lift clean hands to God flowing out from a pure heart. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks! Create in me a clean heart O God. We must purify our hearts by washing with the Word of God, which is sharper than a two-edged sword' piercing even to the division of the soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4:12.). We need to bring all our ugliness, prejudices, mental barriers and even our very motives to God having the removed and replaced by that which is truth. As our hearts are purified so the desire to see God grows. The Lord can only be revealed to those whose hearts are pure as only they have the correct motives and perspective to see Him. To see His hand, the finger of God moving, to see His MO [1] to see His motive and it is always agape Love.

As we allow our hearts to be purified our motives will become godly and will see God in others, in situations in our own lives and of course eventually we will see Him face to face.

v.9 Blessed are the peace makers for they shall be called the sons of God. The Son of God came to reconcile sinful man to a Holy God, He is the ultimate peace maker giving us peace with God and the peace of God. As we are purified so we become peaceable towards men and the desire to witness and evangelise grows i.e. to preach the gospel of peace. Like Father like Son, and hence like sons.

We must bring the peace of God to the unbelieving out of a pure heart, with correct motives and a lifestyle which is above reproach.

v.10 Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. All that live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution! I call it 'negative confirmation ' that you are in the will of God! It seems that every step of faith we take in God that there is a persecution raised by the enemy.

Remember Nehemiah, at first, they mocked and then progressed through various steps to threatening to murder him. (Nehemiah is a good study in which to see Satan's strategy of discouragement of believers).

As we step out into God's plan, we will consider ourselves as blessed (and not be discouraged) in that we have been considered worthy to be persecuted for Jesus’ sake.

v.11 Blessed are you when men cast insults at you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely on account of Me... Bible-bashers, Jesus freaks, God-squad, nutters and worse, if you have or are being called such, rejoice Jesus says you are blessed. Do you believe Him? We are called to make up or share in the sufferings of Christ, who for the joy that was set before Him endured death, even death on the cross. Not just insults but nails and death.

We must consider ourselves blessed as the inevitable persecutions come forth and be of the same mind as Christ.

Summary

Consider the stepwise order of the Beatitudes (using the example of the salvation process).

Only the admission of our poverty in spirit to God can enable Him to breathe His life into us.

When we reach the point of mourning over our sins God can do something with us.

God begins to work in us producing meekness and humility.

Meekness with humility removes paralysing fear from us and produces courage in us to go and possess the land, to begin to fulfil all our destiny in Christ.

We no longer try to do things in our own strength. Our tastes and likes to begin to change.

God begins to fill us with a hunger and thirst for His things. We begin to hunger for His Word and to thirst for God’s presence. We also begin to long for the things that God longs for.

As we allow our hearts to be purified our motives will become godlier and will begin to see God in others and in situations in our own lives.

Having received the peace of God, we must bring it to the unbelieving out of a pure heart, with correct motives and a lifestyle which is above reproach.

We must consider ourselves blessed as the inevitable persecutions come forth and be of the same mind as Christ and remember to rejoice and not be discouraged.

Amen

Further study

Consider the Beatitudes in the book of Nehemiah.

Consider the Beatitudes in an area of your life.

Convert the beatitudes into a prayer for your own and others growth in discipleship.

Prayer

Lord, we come to you in Jesus’ name, confessing our poverty and inability to do anything for you in your kingdom. We realise that we are weak and sinful people and are fed up with our powerlessness. Lord, as we mourn over our sins, forgive, and cleanse us and produce meekness and humility in our lives. Free us from paralysing fear and enable and empower us to possess the land and fulfil all our destiny in Christ. Take away the desire to do things in our own strength but rather fill us with a hunger and thirst for you and your things. Let us be a people like David, men, and women after your own heart. Purify our hearts, motives, and lives that we might begin to see you and bring the unbelievers to your wonderful salvation. Cause us to rejoice and consider ourselves blessed when the inevitable persecution and reviling comes. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Further revelation; could it be that the step wise progression of the beatitudes are mirrored in reverse with the wicked, so that they end up becoming the persecutors? Check it out!

[1] Modus operandi i.e. his way of doing things.

[kamorth]

Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

[rachi-roo]

When a Bible basher is too scared to talk about points properly so he leaves a scared little attempt at harming me, then deletes the comment before I can respond and turns off all comments on his videos 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Big damn baby!

As an atheist satanist, I respect and love all religions, but FUCKING HELL some Christians do make it hard 🤣🤣🤣

All I said was that the rules of Satanism should be common human behaviours, even taken out of religious context. If you disagree with satanist rules, then you're probably not a very nice person since the rules pretty much say, love yourself, and be kind to others but also set your boundaries.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

Reid always in trouble with the bible bashers

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Eric Kaufmann - A Simulated Counter-Culture

Eric Kaufmann: You know, women are more likely, in general, to back whatever is the hegemonic community norm. When it was religion, they were more conservative. And they were. I mean, freshman undergrads in 1970, the females were more conservative than the men by a little bit.

But since 2004, it started moving the other way, and now it's, there's quite a big gap and women are a lot more to the left. And I think they're just reflecting the dominant messages that they're getting in institutional settings. Whereas the boys are a bit more rebellious and have always been more contrarian in a way, rebellious, and I think they're getting more from the internet that's countering what they're receiving in school, university, corporations, so on.

Mike Nayna: If you follow that line of thinking, the purple-haired woke woman is the Bible-basher of the 50s in some sense.

Kaufmann: Yeah, like, an extreme version of the communal values. Like, it's almost like if you're in a Muslim society or a Christian society, the religious fundamentalist exemplifies communal values. Everyone's a pious Muslim, they're a fundamentalist. It's tough to argue against them, but they're exemplifying the values of the system. And I'd say probably, that's what these blue-haired people are doing. And they're just exemplifying the values that everyone should have in the system.

Nayna: I think in the first-person experience is, they are countercultural in some ways.

Kaufmann: They think they're countercultural.

Nayna: They think they're countercultural, and it's a really weird paradoxical thing.

Kaufmann: But this whole thing, you know, it requires a sort of artificial reality. Like, it's always 1933 with Hitler about to rise to power, or we're always back in 1950s Alabama, you know. Or one step away from slipping back into it.

So, by sort of ginning up this artificial atmosphere of white supremacy or misogyny or whatever it is, against that backdrop and that sort of fabricated and invented, sort of establishment, you're a rebel, right?

But the reality is of course, yes, you know, this is just a matter of providing a backstory for what is effectively an elite actor in a way. Or a representative of an elite value system.

==

It's nuts and irrational because they're in an alternate reality in which luxury beliefs prevail.

[flower-zombie-rob]

Yooo wait we left at roughly the same time!!!

Damn i probably saw you at some point in the day XD

I started off at picadilly to mess with those homophobic bible bashers for like an hour before the event started. It was hilarious

[the-halls-of-hatchetfield-high]

[Angelica stops pointing]

It’s a compliment, bible basher. A pleasant day to every but miss Chasity.

[ Richie, Pete, and Ruth visibly relax. Pete sighs in relief and Ruth stifles a giggle at Grace, who huffs ]

Grace: Well, how was I meant to know that, hmm? Jeez Louise! AND for the record, I'd never bash a Bible, they're sacred, okay? so-

Pete: *clearing his throat awkwardly* What I think Grace means is, we're used to people picking on us, so we thought the worst, you see.

Richie: *nodding, a lopsided nervous smile on his face* s-sorry...we didn't mean to-

Ruth: See! I told you she meant it as a compliment! *nudges Richie, who winces and rubs his shoulder*

Pete: We hope you have a lovely day as well, Angel. *smiles politely, adjusts his bowtie*

Ruth: Yeah! You can come by anytime! (secretly loves your sass)