#but i've always hated that we never found out what happened to christian

[princesssarisa]

Some questions about Andersen's "The Little Mermaid" (not Disney's)

I'd like to ask other people these questons:

In Hans Christian Andersen's original story of The Little Mermaid, how do you feel about the Prince? And how do you think we're supposed to feel about him?

Reading various comments about The Little Mermaid online or in non-fiction books, it's clear that it's popular to hate the Prince. People talk about what a "jerk" he turns out to be, and how he "betrays" the Little Mermaid.

Some adaptations also make him more blatantly selfish and unlikable he is in the original. For example, by having him become the Mermaid's lover, only to betray her with another woman, or to reveal that he's already betrothed and never planned to marry her. Disney of course makes Eric fully sympathetic, but does have him fall in love with Ariel and only stray from her because Ursula hypnotizes him. And a few versions have him realize too late that the Mermaid was his true love whom he should have chosen to marry, which never happens in Andersen's version.

Part of the hate Andersen's Prince gets is obviously irrational. At the very least, in the original story, he never betrays the Mermaid because they're never a couple.

But each time I reread the story, I don't know what to make of him. Are we meant to like him or dislike him?

The first detail in his favor is that his subjects seem to love him. The Mermaid overhears fishermen praising him in their boats. When a character is in a position of power, it's always important to notice how the people under his power talk about him.

But speaking of people under his power... his family has slaves. Now, from what I've read, Andersen was anti-slavery. But in the context of this fairy tale, I'm not sure if he meant for the presence of slaves to paint the royal family negatively, or if they're just a part of the implied "exotic" setting, like the presence of citrus and palm trees.

Now let's move on to the heart of the issue: the Prince's treatment of the Little Mermaid in her mute human form.

Obviously, we can't blame him for not realizing that she saved his life, or for crediting the Princess who found him unconscious on the beach with saving him. He has no way of knowing that it wasn't just the waves that swept him to shore.

And it's hard to fault his basic treatment of the Mermaid. He finds a mysterious mute girl on the beach, and despite having no idea of her family, her background, or where she comes from, he brings her to live in the palace, has her richly dressed, and makes her his constant, dearest companion. His affection for her is clear and strong throughout their time together and she loves him more every day.

Yet instead of giving her a proper bed, he has her sleep on a velvet cushion by the door of his room. Like a pet.

He never treats her as an equal, but loves her "as he would love a little child," despite being only a year older than she is. Just because she's mute, and because she's socially beneath him (or so it seems, since he doesn't know she's a princess), he infantilizes her.

Yet sometimes, he shifts away from treating her like a little sister or a pet, and does seem to treat her as a potential romantic partner. He tells her that she reminds him of the girl he loves, whom he thinks he'll never see again – it's implied that much of his fondness for her stems from her resemblance to the Princess. He also tells her "you have almost driven her image out of my mind" (what does that bode for his future with the Princess, if he can freely talk about almost forgetting her in favor of another girl?), and that if he has to marry but can't have his beloved, then he would rather marry his "little foundling" than anyone else.

He freely takes her in his arms too, kisses her forehead and mouth, plays with her hair, and rests his head on her chest. By 19th century standards, would this have been "seemly" or not?

What are we supposed to make of all this? Is the Prince just a kind, affectionate friend who takes comfort in his "little foundling's" presence after losing his beloved, and who values her enough that if he can't marry for love, a platonic marriage to her would be the next best thing? Or should we see him as toying with her and using her as a substitute for a romantic partner, yet because of her disability and lack of status, never humanizing her enough to go all the way?

Then, when he reunites with his Princess, he fails to see the Mermaid's pain, but expects her to "rejoice at my happiness." Is this innocent on his part, or unforgivably self-absorbed?

Part of the problem is the fact that this story is from 1837. The cultures of friendship, romance, male-female interactions, class relations, and disability were obviously all different back then, and hard to fully understand from a modern perspective. I'm not sure if the original readers would have viewed the Prince with more sympathy or less than modern readers tend to.

When his treatment of his "little mute foundling" seems ableist by today's standards, did Andersen mean for it to be ableist? Or would he have seen it as "only natural" to treat a mute girl that way? Was Andersen critiquing ableism, or being ableist himself? And in an era when social class was more rigid than it is today, would it have seemed "only natural" for a prince to treat a homeless girl of unknown origins like a child or a pet instead of an equal, and to never consider marrying her even when romantic potential was clearly there? Still, you'd think that even by 1830s standards, her sleeping on a cushion by his door would be seen as dehumanizing.

Of course it doesn't need to be either "the Prince does nothing wrong" or "the Prince is a self-absorbed jerk." It could also be that he's a good, warm-hearted person, but unfortunately has grown up in a classist, ableist, slave-owning environment that hasn't taught him to treat people like "the little mute foundling" as equals. Andersen might have meant to criticize class divides and ableism without meaning for us to dislike the Prince as a person.

This issue is complicated even further by the generally agreed-upon fact that the Mermaid is Andersen's gender-bent self-insert, and that the story is based (a) on his struggles to fit into upper class society despite his lowly birth, and (b) on his closet bisexuality and unrequited love for his friend Edvard Collin, the son of his patron. He's known to have sent Collin a copy of the story, though it seems that commentators disagree about whether it was meant as a "rebuke" or a "love letter."

I tend to like versions of the story where the the Prince is sympathetic and a true friend to the Little Mermaid, just not in love with her. Maybe that was Andersen's intent; after all, he and Edvard Collin stayed close friends throughout their lives, long after The Little Mermaid was published, and were even buried together.

But maybe he didn't mean it so kindly. Maybe at the time when he wrote the story, Andersen did feel dehumanized and toyed with by Collin, and by the upper class in general. Maybe we are supposed to blame the Prince for the tragedy, and maybe to portray him too sympathetically robs the story of its power.

I'm sorry for rambling on and on. But the Prince is a difficult character and it's no wonder that he's so divisive, or that adaptations tend to change his character drastically in some way or other.

How are we supposed to feel about him?

[darkaviarymc]

So why tf are you living with a zionist? And why tf did you get married to one in the first place?

I've gotten anons asking invasive questions about my relationship with Troy and why I have yet to end it, and I've deleted each one. I don't know if you're the same anon, but I'm guessing you follow me because my latest #aviisleaving post has no notes and was less than an hour old when I received this ask.

But.

Due to recent events in this fandom, abuse has become a spotlight topic. I don't know if I would call my marriage abusive or not. But whether or not it is, my situation and my reasons for staying in it for the time being is similar to what abusive victims face. There are many reasons not to leave, to bide your time before leaving, and to not be able to leave at the time or even at all, and I think it's an important discussion to have.

I'll start by explaining why I'm with him in the first place. We used to be closer ideologically. He wasn't always this far right and (this is where I make a confession that idk if I'm actually ready to make, but here we go) I wasn't always this far left. Seven years does a lot to change people, for better or worse. I was a left-leaning centerist, he was a right-leaning centerist, and we met in the middle to either compromise or peacefully agree to disagree.

We were both nerdy autistic weirdos with the same taste in music, same sense of humor, and enough ideologically in common to make peace. He got along well with my daughter and was quick to let me know that, if we ever got married, he'd consider her his kid as if she was his own.

I'm hyper-romantic. I see romance basically everywhere I look, and I fall in love hard and fast. He wasn't used to having a woman (my egg hadn't cracked yet, we'll get to that) who wasn't an absolute bitch be interested in him, so he fell harder than he ever had. We also both hated our situation at home, and I wouldn't pretend that wasn't a factor. We rushed the relationship and got married before we'd been together a year.

Everything changed for me when I realized I was queer.

I found the community I'd been denying for my whole life, and I learned a lot. He was an ally then. A flawed one, but he was willing to try. He was supportive of me when I came out, first as bisexual and then as nonbinary.

But everything changed for him when the wreck happened. He was driving with our mutual best friend in the front passenger seat when he lost control on black ice and slid into oncoming traffic. Our friend died at the scene, and Troy's injuries left him permanently disabled. He's since regained his independence, but he'll always struggle with his left arm.

We both took solace in our faith (I'd still consider myself a Christian, feel how you feel about that, I've heard it all) but he got lost in Christian Reddit, then Christian TikTok. Christian TikTok led to Evangelical TikTok, which led to transphobic, homophobic, MAGA, and zionist TikTok.

He ate that shit up. He fucking chugged that kool-aid. It gave him something besides himself to be angry at.

Grief opened my mind and closed his. It softened my heart and hardened his.

It just went downhill from there.

And now I can't live with this. I know he can't either, and the only reason he hasn't initiated a separation is because 1) there's no biblical grounds for divorce because I haven't cheated on him, and 2) he doesn't think a fat, autistic, disabled nerd in his 30s with a small dick and $30,000 in medical debt could ever find a godly wife. His words, not mine.

So if I want what's best for myself, my daughter, and yes, even for Troy, I need to be the one to leave.

So why haven't I yet?

First and foremost, money. We live in a society blah blah blah. Our society isn't friendly single mothers, queer people, or disabled people, and I'm about to be all three. I need to be 100% certain that I can support not only myself, but a high support needs autistic teen daughter who will likely never be able to live independently.

We currently only have one working vehicle, and aren't in a financial place to remedy that. I will need my own form of transportation if I'm going to be on my own.

All of my preparations (housing, transportation, moving logistics, etc) will have to be enacted quickly and perfectly. Surgical precision packing, moving, and stocking up on groceries so I don't have to leave the house for a while within 24 hours. Why? Because his family can't have any forewarning. I would not be safe. Currently, I'm not safe emotionally, but if I mess up even one step off the plan, if I'm not perfect in my exit strategy, I won't be safe physically, and neither will my daughter. I won't elaborate further on that.

Not only do I have to leave perfectly, but I have to be 150% positive months in advance that I can keep perfect. Because he has friends and family in places that could be dangerous for me, not the least of which is CPS. I fully expect to have them at my door by the end of the first month. I can't give them cause to take my daughter, even if it's the smallest, stupidest thing. Especially since they'll already have a small, stupid thing. Namely, my queerness and my disability.

Because I'm under no impression whatsoever that Troy won't out me to every single person who I can't safely be out to the instant he gets the chance. I will have no more help from (and possibly no contact with) my family. I will be completely alone. My support system will be gone forever. I have to be emotionally, mentally, and financially ready for that.

And I am none of those things right now.

And until I am, I have to do whatever I can to keep myself safe enough to bide my time for the right opportunity.

[meandering-reality]

Fear of fear of fear of fear, ugg get over it

When I finally stepped out from under the avalanche of rainbows and unicorns I had pulled over my eyes I realized that I feared death. Or at least that's how my over-thinking, anxiety riddled brain decided its thoughts on “where the heck am I doing with this info” led me.

Again, I wasn't raised religious. My mother was angry about being raised under my grandparents' religion and so she was an atheist. And while we didn't discuss it much, the emotions I picked up from her were always very bitter and angry about it.

My grandfather and great grandmother I always saw as it was a place to go on Sunday. Well scratch that for grandpa, there was always a game on. 

My grandmother however put her all into it. She sat down every day and studied the Bible as well. She never spoke to me about it either (I found out later that my mom had basically threatened to never let her see me again if she ever spoke about or took me to church). The one huge difference between the two is that my grandmother always felt like an angel to me.

Maybe it was a difference in personality. Or how they moved through the world. Perhaps age and experience as well. Whatever it was I look back at my childhood and see me being torn between my grandmother's love and my mother's lack of it.

I've had years to work on forgiveness. To realize she did the best she could with what she had. To hear stories of what an amazing and loving person she was. To find a way to love that kid I was. The one  that just wanted to feel like their mom loved them. To learn how to stick up for and protect that kid out of time.

All of these things lead into this cycle of 7 to 8 years of being flung back into a position where I feel like I've unlearned everything I worked on before. All coming to a head with the question what's going to happen to me when I die?

It's funny that oblivion never entered into the equation. It is more a fear of being alone, conscious and alone. I do have a spiritual belief, it's not as simple as saying I'm a Christian. It's also not as simple as saying I'm spiritual (why too many ideas and choices). I could narrow it by saying awakened but honestly that doesn't really narrow it much either.

I (when I'm not spiraling in all my unresolved crap) do believe in God, or creator or source or whatever word you want to use. I just don't believe in religious dogma. So where did that fear come from?

Especially since I've said to myself over and over that I'm not afraid to die. I'm not a fan of pain though so could we avoid that? The diagnosis just sent me into this twister of self hate, self doubt, mental self harm and it centered around my age and not feeling like I've done whatever I was supposed to do here.

Does anyone know that? A lot do, what about those of us that don't. There is a lot of emphasis put on following your path or purpose but not all paths are known. There is also a huge confusion with the earthly idea of purpose. They think of wealth being the goal. The mansion with 15 bedrooms, 20 baths and 4 pools (so small).

Your purpose could have just been to smile everyday. When we don't know it's easy to condem yourself for not doing it and then dying “bad”. Like I'm dying this young cause I've always been a fuck up. That's where my head went. That's when the fear set in. That's when I all of a sudden had the balls to start looking at things I wanted to do or change about myself and actually started.

For years I've had a victim (though I really learned to word it so it didn't sound like it) mentality about my relationship with anger. “This is what I learned from my mom”. Snap and scream. Twirling whirlwind thoughts that make it so when I walk away I can come back hours later and still be as angry and mean as I was before I went to “cool off”. 

It's a pattern that has kept me blissfully satisfied with what a horrible mess I am and why nobody should love me, I'm just not worth it. 

Aww a mother's love and teachings. Ha! I moved out at 18. This is hardly her doing at this point. It has much more to do with my belief in it. And instead of taking my grandmother's opposite words to heart I took the other and have struggled with so many deep dives into oblivion I can't count. I don't want to go there any more.

I know habits take a while to make and I've only just begun. Here's to taking a giant step towards the light and the love that awaits once I'm truly done with this incarnation. We've always been worthy of a beautiful afterlife, we just have to live it the best we can before we go.

Much love.

[freyabuckley00]

My Religion (and lack thereof) pt. 2

TW: religion, discussion of homophobia

For whatever reason, I had a hard time buying into what my church was selling. I heard them being racist, sexist, homophobic, and every hateful thing under the sun and I didn't want to be like that. Did I want God to love me? Absolutely. Did I want to suffer like Jesus the way they taught me to pray for? No.

When I was 8, I was watching TLC's Say Yes to the Dress with my grandmother. As the episode began, I remember hearing the manager speaking to the women looking for dresses and her saying "we've never styled two brides before!" and my grandma turned off the tv in disgust and said "I hate those homosexuals." I remember going to sit in the sunroom and staring at the prisms in the window catching the sunlight and making rainbows. I was 8, homeschooled, and not allowed to have friends outside of my church or my family. I had never heard of two brides. I was trying to understand, then I realized. They were marrying each other. I didn't know how to feel about it, so I talked to my cousin and at the time closest friend about it. She shrugged and said "I don't think it's that weird." and so I decided that I didn't think it was weird either.

That moment was the first time I realized I could have a different opinion than my family and my church. In a home where I had no other way to rebel, I rebelled with my thoughts instead. I decided that I was going to be apart of the "world," and that it was ok to love people "of this world." As I got older, I found things not ringing true in my head, that the words of the pastor didn't line up with what I read in my Bible. My parents tried their hardest to shelter me; I didn't have internet access until I was 16, and even then it was heavily monitored until I went to college. I still found my ways, though. But that's a story for a different post.

Now, in my 20s, I've learned so much about life and Christianity and other religions. When I left for college, I stopped going to church. Church of Christ felt lifeless and suffocating. When I visit home I go to a non-denominational church, and for a little bit I felt like I was regaining my love of God, but instead all that happened was I lost my fear of Him. I remember standing in church 2 years ago and singing about my love and reverence for God, and realizing that I felt nothing. Singing used to be the only way I "connected" with God. I didn't realize until that moment that I was connecting with the harmony and community of singing together.

In the absence of my fear of God, I had no love for Him or His word. he was just him. a god who held no power over me. I studied more religions to see if I felt drawn to anything, but I didn't. There are so many stories out there that have some key similarities and it makes me wonder if there is anything out there, but I don't think that's something that I have to understand.

The universe is so specific; we have such unique conditions that I think it probably could be intentionally created by something or someone, but I no longer feel the need to obsess over what that was. I have a difficult time wanting to follow a religious text because those were written by humans, translated by humans, and warped by humans. I don't think it's possible to have a full picture of any god, much less THE god, if there is one.

For me, god is karma, kindness, and nature. I feel at peace when I'm near water. I feel love and loved when I see people exchanging kindnesses for no other reason than to make the other feel loved. I feel justice when I know that as long as I put good into the world, that I will always be able to find the good given back to me.

For me, that is enough.

[leonbloder]

Learning To Practice What We Preach

There was a quote that was circulating on social media this past week that popped up on several of my feeds.  

It was hard to figure out who originated the quote, but more than a few of my friends and fellow pastors on social media posted it and shared it with me.  

One clue I uncovered led me to believe that the author was still a Christian, despite what they wrote and had found refuge in a loving, welcoming, and accepting faith community.  

Despite the mysterious origin, there are some hard truths in this quote that those of us who call ourselves Christians need to hear: 

You told me to love my enemies, to even do good to those who wish for bad things. You told me to never “hate” anyone and to always find ways to encourage people.  You told me it’s better to give than receive, to be last instead of first. You told me that Jesus looks at what I do for the least-of-these as the true depth of my faith. You told me to focus on my own sin and not to judge. You told me to be accepting and forgiving. I paid attention. I took every lesson. And I did what you told me. But now, you call me a libtard. A queer-lover. You call me “woke.” A backslider. You call me a heretic. A child of the devil. You call me soft. A snowflake. A socialist. What the hell did you expect me to do? I thought you were serious, apparently not. 

Some euphemisms in that quote might be triggering, but remember that the speaker is simply parroting what they have heard people say about them. 

The fact of the matter is, even in the fundamentalist Baptist churches I grew up in, I learned the beautiful things the speaker refers to from some of my Sunday school teachers, youth pastors, and even a few lead pastors.  

It wasn't like they spent every moment teaching and preaching, railing against sin and the evils of liberalism, even though it felt like it at times. 

There were good, sweet people among those who taught me.  People who wanted to live their lives in grace and kindness, following Jesus' examples.  

They might have been caught up in a tradition that embraced terrible and exclusive theology and enabled leaders to speak out of both sides of their mouths, but their desire was to love as Jesus loved.  

As I write, I think about a few of these loving people and am grateful for them.  

I learned those lessons. I paid attention. I read my Bible from cover to cover at least three times before I was 15. I memorized Scripture. I listened. I wanted all those beautiful things about my faith to be true.  

But I couldn't reconcile those lessons with what happened when I began questioning the other things I was taught and the negative examples I saw within the churches I attended.  

I've had my fair share of the negative characterizations in the above quote lobbed at me by people who call themselves Christians, both then and now. 

I forgive them all, not because I am wonderful, but because I know how much grace I need. I also know that sometimes, the people who say those kinds of things are the most complicated people for me to love.  

And if I truly follow Jesus, I must love and pray for them.  (that was hard to write)

Here's a challenging thing to consider: We are doing our best. Every one of us. 

We might not be doing what we are most capable of, but we are doing our best considering our circumstances, foibles, weaknesses, influences, and fears.  

Keeping this in mind helps us have compassion and grace for those with whom we disagree and compassion for ourselves when we don't get things right. 

But I also believe the following, and it gives me great hope:

Ultimately, Christ will find a way to restore and reform  Christianity into something that best resembles all those beautiful things in the above quote.  I have faith in this despite all the evidence to the contrary.  

We should also do everything we can to teach what it means to love as Jesus loves and practice it.  

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen.  

[clinicallyinvisible]

Something that really messed me up as a kid was listening to my mother hate herself.

She hated her body. Always saying she was fat and her boobs were too small and that she wanted implants one day (never happened). She also expressed dislike about my appearance to me. My posture and my acne were big ones. I was taught to hate my appearance because my mother hates her appearance and disliked mine. I look just like her. I always have. If you put a photo of me next to a photo of my mother at the same age we look like the same person. So to listen to her be so vocal about hating how she looks was so fucking damaging to me. And I don't know how she couldn't have realized that. I don't understand how she didn't see that by hating herself she was teaching me to do the same. She always treated me like an extension of herself, wanting me to do the things she wanted to do, but couldn't. She always pushed me to do things like be a nurse (no) and to marry a nice Christian boy (no) and have a bunch of babies (NO). She also never cared to get to know me because she had this version of me she had created in her head and she was still trying to mold me into that. She refused to accept that I wasn't and would never be that person and that I am my own person. She has refused to get to know the real me.

I have wanted so badly to have a real relationship with my parents, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I am too many of the things they hate. They are too full of hate. I just crave love and they don't want to offer that to me unless I be what they want me to be. I am not valuable to them as the person I am.

My parents are getting older. And I'm terrified of losing them, I'm terrified of them dying. Because I don't have a relationship with them at the moment and I want one so bad. And if they go before we fix things (if we fix things) I think it might ruin me a little. I just want so so badly to have my family back and to be loved by them. Right now I don't see it ever happening and that hurts a lot. My mother doesn't care, tho, if I'm hurting. She's made it clear that her feelings are the only ones that matter. I have to sacrifice mine in order to have a relationship with them and I'm just not willing to do that.

Idk why I'm thinking about this today, but I am and it sucks. Maybe because Kristy and I were taking about family the other day and we talked about how found family just isn't the same support system as blood family and I guess that really resonated with me.

My dad is getting closer and closer to the age his dad was when he passed away and I guess it's making me afraid of losing out on that relationship. Losing grandpa was already hard enough tbh. I never got to know him properly. I don't want it to be the same with my dad. But my parents are not kind people. And god that sucks. I am so so envious of everyone that can have a half decent relationship with their parents. I yearn for it so badly.

I'm afraid to talk to them because of all this stuff lately in the media about trans people being targeted. I don't want to hear what they have to say about it. I know it's going to be bad. I know it's going to be so so disgusting and bad. And they still don't know I'm nonbinary and honestly I don't know if I ever wanna explain it to them. I mean, I'd love to be able to come out and for them to use my new name, but I know they won't understand and they will refuse to use my name and pronouns. They will always call me she and they will always deadname me. I know there is no point and no hope for them.

My sister is also queer, but somehow she tolerates them. I don't understand how. Probably because she's the golden child and can do no wrong by them and she is so perfect. She gets treated so much better than I ever have by them so I guess she isn't as bothered by it, but I have received basically no decent treatment from them my whole life. I've always felt like a burden and a failure to them. It's funny how my sister and I have had such contrasting childhoods and experiences with our parents.

[kateyes224]

Independence Day

A/N: Fourth of July fluff and nonsense, inspired by some anons I’ve gotten recently about whether Mulder is capable of giving Scully a meaningful gift.  Timeline:  Post-IWTB, Pre-Revival

Mulder knocks on her door and goes to straighten his tie before he remembers he’s not wearing one.  Hasn’t worn one in years.  He tries not to fidget, suspecting she may be eyeing him through her peephole, but he ends up shifting back and forth on his feet the longer it takes her to answer the door.  

He triple-guesses his outfit for the eighteenth time that night, and berates himself for it, feeling ridiculous for feeling ridiculous.

He hears her soft, even footfalls as she approaches the door, then a long moment of silence. She is peeping.

When she opens the door, her apartment seems to exhale at the exact same moment he does.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Scully.”  Scully in her angular new suits and jewel-toned scrubs seems a completely separate being from this creature.  This woman’s hair is pulled up and away from her face and off her neck.  She’s wearing a sky-colored sweater that deepens the blue of her eyes to a dark violet in the low light, and jeans that he knows for a fact have been worn in from years of washing in hard water. He’d washed them a few dozen times himself. She’s hardly wearing a stitch of makeup.

Fuck losing nine minutes.  For a moment, he thinks he might have lost a quarter of a century.  “You look good.”

She knows. Blushes anyway.

“Thanks.  You look pretty good yourself.”

“Ladies always love a man in a polo.”

He keeps his eyes trained on hers, deliberately not looking over her shoulder.  I need a space of my own, Mulder, she’d said, a little over a year ago now.  He’d hated her for it then but he’d respected it just the same.  He still hates it, and he still respects it.  He doesn’t want to taint it by seeing it without her say-so.

“Would you like to come in for a minute?” A polite and completely insincere invitation.  She hadn’t even wanted him to pick her up tonight, he reminds himself.

“Nope, I think we can just go.  Otherwise we’ll be late.”

She looks cautious, but grabs her purse and her jacket from the table by the front door.  “Late?  I thought we were just going to grab dinner?”  

Mulder waits while she turns to close the door.  Her old housekey for their country home jangles on her keyring next to the one she uses to lock up.  

He doesn’t have a key for her new place.  

“We are going to grab dinner.  But I have a surprise later tonight and we’ve got to get a move on or else we’ll miss it.”

She makes a show of slowing and sighs audibly, predictably skeptical and apparently willing to play her old part for old time’s sake.

He walks her out to the pickup truck and circles to her side, opening it for her and handing her in.  She chuckles. “Mulder, you’ve never been this solicitous. What have you got planned? Not another haunted house, I hope.”

Closing her door, he smiles down at her through the half-closed window.  “You know I only save those for Christmas, Scully.”

He drives them back out of town the same way he came, threading his way from interstate to highway to two-lane country road before stopping to pick up dinner. She smiles when he pulls in front of her favorite barbecue joint and hops out of the truck to pay for a couple of messy brisket sandwiches dripping in tangy sauce and wrapped in foil and white styrofoam containers of coleslaw and baked beans.  Two thick slices of cornbread are immediately set upon by Scully when he returns to the truck, and he laughs and slaps her hands away.

The sound of her giggle bouncing around the cab of the truck before it’s snatched out the window and into the night air nearly wipes the smirk right off of his face. He’d been almost sure he’d never be able to make her laugh again.

Another twenty miles past the house he’s still trying to think of as his and not theirs and he pulls off the main road and into a dirt lot that is already filled with cars.  They’re a few hundred yards from where the local high school campus sprawls out in the dark.  Mulder grabs a blanket from the bed of the truck and ties the handles of the plastic bag of food into bunny ears. At her questioning look, he nods in the direction of the football field glowing under floodlights in the distance. Smells and sounds from booths selling all manner of deep-fried food, kettle corn, and funnel cake waft towards them in the heavy July air.

A dunk tank, a pony ride, and a small petting zoo are set up in the home team’s end zone.  An emu is being walked around on a leash, to the delight and horror of many small children.  And just beyond that, a wooden stage and dance floor. A band of morose young teens is going about the serious business of setting up their equipment, plugging guitars into amplifiers and strumming chords that twang offkey.

The lead singer and DJ, a girl with a shock of a bright turquoise pixie cut, stands in front of the speakers and clicks around on her laptop in the meantime. The dance floor is almost full with couples swaying back and forth to an unpredictable mix of R&B and country.  Children of all ages dart in between them in an endless game of tag.

“Mulder, what are we doing here?”

Mulder keeps walking just beyond the stage where other families have set up their own circles of chairs and picnic blankets.  He makes a show of unfurling the Navajo blanket on the ground, smooths the wrinkles before setting the plastic bag of food in the center.  “Just make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Some funnel cake? We have about twenty minutes before the show.”

Scully crosses her arms and stares up at him. “Mulder,” she repeats, “what are we doing here?” She sounds, for all intents and purposes, like she’s just surveyed a crime scene and found it conspicuously lacking in what he’d once half-ironically referred to as a distinct paranormal bouquet.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Mulder asks, blinking down at her, and he nearly chokes on the question like a popcorn kernel has lodged itself in the back of his throat when he remembers that no, she probably doesn’t.  Not anymore.  Mulder shakes his head when it takes her a second too long to answer. “Don’t worry, Doc. Have a seat, I’ll go grab us a drink.”

Scully purses her lips at him and glances over her shoulder as the band strikes up a rousing, if overly-metal, rendition of Yankee Doodle.  “Hurry back,” she murmurs, then bends to sit cross-legged on the blanket and starts untying the plastic bag.

Mulder hustles off, taking a wide berth around a game of cornhole to where a keg and a cash booth have been set up.  He pays $10 for two light beers in red Solo cups and turns, almost knocking over a man and his wife in their late 30s.  

“Mr. Scully?” the young man asks, hesitant.

 Mulder sputters, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his beer.

“Uhhhh, no, I’m Fox Mulder. Dr. Scully is my…” Shit.  This was always the hard part.  “...my partner.”  It’s never not been true.  “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Fearon?”

The young man nods and glances at his wife, who smiles up uncertainly at Mulder.  They both turn. Behind them sits a boy in a wheelchair. “And this is Christian.”

Christian is pale, with huge, almond-shaped blue eyes and a tangle of messy brown hair.  He’s got a crocheted afghan tucked around his legs and a beanie on his head despite the humid July heat, but two rosy spots color his cheeks, belying a fragile bloom of health.

Mulder smiles down at him, bends to look into the boy’s eyes.  “Hi, Christian.  My name is Mulder. I’m a friend of Dr. Scully’s. She’s been wondering about you.”

Christian’s eyes crinkle, a grin lighting up his face. “I’ve been wondering about her, too.”

Mulder leads the way back over to where Scully is sitting on their blanket, the Fearons following slowly but surely behind him. Just as he calls out to Scully and she turns, the lights around the makeshift fairground all dim simultaneously, leading to whoops and hollers and lascivious catcalls.  In the dark, Mulder settles in on the blanket next to Scully and hands her a beer.

“Mulder, who was with-”

“Shhhh, Scully,” Mulder whispers, just as the band gets going with Ray Charles’ version of America the Beautiful. The drummer starts military cadence on the drums and the teen girl with the turquoise hair starts belting out the first verse in a honeyed alto.

Oh beautiful, for heroes proved, In liberating strife, Who more than self, our country loved, And mercy more than life

Just as the chorus gets going, the first pops and whistles of fireworks start echoing from a couple of hundred yards down the way.  The crowd draws in a collective gasp as blue and green and red and white sparks erupt overhead.

Scully’s eyes are trained on the sky for a long moment before she turns back to Mulder.  The wide smile on her face lights over him just as the next round of fireworks explode in a shimmer and a pop of noise. But her eyes slip past him and catch sight of the profile of the young boy who was trailing in Mulder’s wake. Christian’s hands are planted firmly over his ears, transfixed by the showers of color blazing overhead.

“Christian?” Mulder sees her mouth silently before looking up at him, confused.

Mulder bends close to her ear, loud enough that she can hear over the gunshot blast of the next round of fireworks.

“Last week, you got a voicemail at the house from his new treating physician, a Dr. Rajkumar. She thought you’d want to know...he’s been doing well enough as result of your treatment plan that his parents were going to take him to see the fireworks this year.”

Scully can’t seem to tear her gaze away from the boy’s face. His eyes, saucer-wide, haven’t left the sky, and his smile can’t get any bigger.  

Mulder watches Scully watching Christian for the next ten minutes, as the fireworks and the band get louder and more intense.  When the final crescendo and the finale culminate above them, she looks up at Mulder, whispers her thanks, and wraps an arm around his waist.

As she settles into a spot that feels more comfortable than it should for going without the weight and shape of her for so long, he hopes she feels free, if only for tonight.

[thebreakfastgenie]

🌻🌻🌻 (IDK how serious it was lol)

So today I've been fondly reminiscing about my terror campaign in 9th grade US History. At the time my school did this thing where they split AP US History over two years and you took the exam at the end of 10th grade. Yeah, I don't know. Anyway this was supposed to be an AP class.

Our teacher sucked and I was, basically, bored, and hadn't been in traditional school for some years, and also basically considered history teachers to be my equals because they were all my dad's coworkers.

We did our chapter tests on scantron sheets and he didn't want to print enough question packets for both classes (which, hey! saving trees is noble!) but the problem was he thought if the first class wrote on the test in any way it would somehow give the second class a clue. So he told us "do not write on the test." He never really explained this reasoning, it was just something I figured out, and I felt he was really annoying about it. I also think crossing out answer choices, underlining words, circling questions you want to come back to, etc are all good test-taking skills that are literally encouraged on AP exams so just flat out telling students not to do it isn't good. So I wrote on every single test out of protest. He knew it was me because on the final exam, after everyone was done, he came up to me with my test booklet and an eraser and made me clean it up. I don't know why because it didn't matter at that point??

Another time the clock broke and he didn't want to get it replaced and also I think he was mad that we all spent so much time looking at the clock wanting to leave his boring ass class. So he put up a sign that said "Time will pass. Will you?" A few days later we had a test. Note that I always turned my tests in with tons of time to spare. I was usually the first one done. But I said "how are we supposed to practice good test-taking skills if we can't see how much time we have left?" He glared daggers at me but he put up a digital clock on the smart board.

He also had this policy that if you convinced him a question was bad he'd throw it out and adjust the score by giving everyone in the class an additional point. I took this as a challenge. I'd go to the floor arguing with him about questions I had no trouble understanding and had gotten right. I don't think there was a single test we didn't get at least one additional point on. Most of them we got two or three. Classmates would come up to me and say "Sarah that test was rough. You're going to get us an extra point, right?"

He also assigned us these study guides and we were supposed to fill out a few questions each day but without exception we did them all the night before they were due. He knew we were doing this and hated it but couldn't stop us. Finally very late in the school year when it no longer mattered, we were looking at a picture of child laborers from the industrial revolution, and he told us those kids would love a chance to do study guides. I said "great they can have ours then" but the real coup was a kid in the next class (who I had Issues with but in this moment he was good) saying, completely straight faced "they were most likely illiterate."

In addition to the study guides which we were already not doing he forced us to do Cornell two-column notes whether we found them helpful or not. We complained so much and turned in what was so obviously the bare minimum designed to get the points that the next year he made the notes optional. We broke that man and I was the leader. He deserved it; he was a conservative Christian with a sign that said "God first, others second, myself third" in his public school classroom. He also said male teachers do it to support their families and female teachers do it for fun.

Also the entire time this was happening I was telling my mom all about it and she was encouraging me.

[enthusiasticharry]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i feel like i've been waiting years for this to happen when it has only been a few months or so but here it is! feels like home is finally here and i couldn't be more excited. this fic is literally like my child, just like checkmate was, but it does hit closer to home because there are some subjects and topics discusses that are things that happened to me or close to me, so i feel as though i have to protect it with my entire life. but please, do enjoy this not so brief introduction to feels like home, christian and luisa and their little world.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, mentions of anxiety, depression and heavy injury. mentions of a car crash.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐄 here

“Christian!” The sound of her name rings through the entire Bed and Breakfast with how loud her sister screams it.

“What?”

“Have you seen my phone?” Christian sighs, leaning over the table that she was sat at to grab Luisa’s phone that was on the other side, holding it out for her sister. Luisa manoeuvres her wheelchair to the side of the table, “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Christian mutters, leaning her chin back onto the palm of her hand as she scrolls through the Lodge’s booking system.

The booking system, apart from a few weekend bookings from the odd elderly couple, was completely empty. September was always quite a slow time of the year for the Lodge, and the sisters had found that out the hard way last year, during their first year of being open, when nobody booked anything for the entire month. From what Christian remembers, there were only two walk-in customer’s during the month and they only stayed for a night or so. The fact that they only had two bookings didn’t cause her to worry as much as she did the year prior though, because they had just had the biggest summer that they could ever imagine, and it was only their second year of fully being in business.

It had always been Luisa Flores’ dream to own her own Bed and Breakfast, but Christian had never, ever thought that she would be right beside her when she did it, but, she wouldn’t change it for the world now — she really wouldn’t.

Four years ago the sisters were coming home in the back of a taxi after going out for the night with their friends. They were drunk, but they weren’t driving and they never would whilst intoxicated, but they soon found out halfway through their journey that not everyone is the same. The driver hit the taxi that the Flores sisters were in on the right side as they drove through a junction, and completely destroyed Luisa and the driver’s side of the car. Christian doesn’t remember much from the accident apart from seeing a flashing light from the right side of her and then waking up in a hospital bed with her neck in a neck brace.

All she could think about was whether or not her sister was alive, and when none of the doctors would answer her Christian felt her entire world crumble around her. Even when her parents came, all they had been told was that Luisa had been rushed into emergency surgery and a doctor would be with them after to explain what was going on. Whilst they were waiting, Christian’s doctor came in and explained that she was going to have a scan and some x-rays to check that everything was alright with her. The results came back that Christian had three broken ribs and that her right arm had been fractured in three different places, but apart from that it was all cuts and bruises and she would make a full recovery.

Luisa, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Due to the car hitting them on her side, it had done unimaginable damage that Christian could only wish to take away from her sister. Luisa had lost one of her legs in the accident and lost all movement in the other, causing her to be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. It changed their lives forever, and all Christian could ever think was that she should’ve sat on that side, not her sister.

If the accident did anything to their family, it brought them closer together. They had been talking one night whilst watching Gossip Girl for the thousandth time and Christian had brought up that when they were younger, all Luisa would ever talk about was owning her own Bed and Breakfast in the Lake District. At first, Luisa had dismissed the idea and said that it wouldn’t ever work because of her wheelchair and not being able to walk but if anything, it actually meant that Christian had more of a fire up her arse to make it happen for her sister. A lot of the things that Luisa wanted to do with her life she couldn’t anymore, but this thing, with Christian’s help, she could do.

They found the building that Little Lodge is now in a few months after deciding that they were going to start up their Bed and Breakfast and with help from their parents, they managed to get a deposit down and also managed to get themselves a mortgage. Before they knew it, they were opening their own little Bed and Breakfast.

It was a stressful experience at first, and Christian can’t lie and say that it isn’t stressful a lot nowadays as well, but it was certainly worse at the beginning. The majority of the time, Luisa did the front of house and Christian did everything else because it was just easier for the two of them and the dynamic of the Lodge. There was the odd time that the two of them would change their roles just to fit the situation but that was usually it. Christian loved the dynamic that they had created in Little Lodge more than anything else in her life. It was her new home, and she would never give it up, never.

“Have you heard anything from mamá about abuela?” Luisa asks after a few minutes or so, closing her phone and dropping it down onto her lap.

“No.” Christian shakes her head, swirling in the desk-chair that she was sat in so that she was facing her older-sister, “Mamá said that she’d message if there were any updates but I haven’t heard anything. Papá said that they’re still waiting for the scan results.”

“That’s shit.” Luisa adds and Christian nods her head, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “She had the scan hours ago, didn’t she?”

“Papá said that abuela went in for the scan at around six this morning, and they’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing yet.”

Christian sighs and shrugs her shoulders whilst Luisa shakes her head. Christian and Luisa’s abuela still lived in Seville, where their mother is originally from and she had recently started to get quite sick so their parents decided that it was probably best that the two of them go and visit her for an extended amount of time whilst she had tests done and they figured out what was wrong with her. It was nerve-wracking for the girls, that they weren’t able to be with her family and check that their abuela was okay but they couldn’t leave the Lodge, and they just hoped that their abuela understood that.

“Ay Dios mio.” Luisa shakes her head again, “Mamá must be going out of her mind.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” Christian shrugs, “We’ve all seen how bad she’s gotten over the past few years. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a suspicion that it isn’t going to be the best news.”

“Christian!” Luisa raises one of her eyebrows as she looks at her younger sister, “Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive.”

Christian raises one of her eyebrows at her sister, “Positive? I’m just telling the truth, Lu.”

“I know you are.” Her sister pushes again, “But don’t you go saying that to mamá, that might be the end for her.”

“Like I would.” Christian leans forward and thumps her sister on the shoulder, but composes herself when she notices the last couple that they have staying in the Lodge for the summer make their way to the desk to check out. Luisa raises one of her eyebrows at Christian, who just responds to her sister with a roll of her eyes.

As the couple walk towards the front of the desk, Christian swivels around in her chair so that she’s facing the front again and offers them a large smile, “Morning, how are you both? Did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you.” The man responds walking over and placing the keys to their room down on the counter, “Sad to be leaving, that’s for sure.”

“We’re sad to see you go, too.” Christian offers them a sad smile whilst she tries to find their booking on the system, “But I’m sure we’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah, you certainly will.” The man laughs and Christian nods her head.

Christian sends their receipt to print and holds her hand out, waiting for the sheets to come out. Once they have, she staples their version together, and the Lodge’s versions together and opens them to the page they need to sign and passes them a pen.

“Can you sign on the dotted line and date, please?” She asks and the man nods, “It’s just a confirmation of payment and then you’ll get another one when we’ve cleaned the room and sent your deposit back.”

The man nods and signs the two pages before passing them back to Christian. She finishes the process and then gives them their receipt and wishes them a good day and safe travel. That was the last couple to leave the Lodge, and that meant that Summer was officially over and that they wouldn’t see as many customers as they had in a long time, probably not until October Half-Term when all of the schools in England broke up for a week. Once the door had closed behind them, Christian turned back to her sister who was looking at her with a silly smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten better at that, you know?” Luisa says, moving forward so that she can slip underneath the desk with Christian, “You stuttered so much when we first opened.”

“That’s just ‘cos I was nervous.” Christian shrugs, “I didn’t want to fuck it up. Now, I don’t care. I don’t think I can fuck anything up.”

“Uh, let's agree to disagree with that one. There’s still things that you’d be able to fuck up. You get too nervous and word-vomit.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, Lu. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey.” Luisa knocks Christian’s shoulder with hers, “What are sisters for?”

As far as a sibling relationship went, Christian and Luisa were as close as sisters could be. This had been both before and after the accident. There were only two years between them, and Christian sometimes wondered whether or not it was how close the two of them were in age that meant they were so close. They would do everything together when they were younger, and of course they had arguments and fought at little things that didn’t matter but at the end of the day they were still sisters. That was certainly one of the reasons why they made it through sorting out the Lodge without killing each other, because Christian doesn’t believe they’ve ever argued as much as they did when they were trying to sort the Lodge out, but they made it through without actually hitting one another which is better than they could say for before the accident.

They were minding their business when the computer pinged. It was loud, and it caused the two of them to sit up and stare at the screen with their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that—?” Luisa asks.

“— I don’t know.” Christian leans forward and places her hand on the mouse, moving so that she could close the tab that she had opened and move to the booking-system app, which had been the one to make the noise.

“Has someone booked?” Luisa looked just as confused as Christian was and when she looked at the system, she saw that someone had actually booked.

As Christian flickered her eyes over the booking her mouth parted open in shock, “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Luisa moves closer to Christian and focuses her eyes on the screen, “Ay Dios mio.”

Not only had someone booked in September of all months, but they had booked for the entire month. At first Christian thought that her eyes had been deceiving her and that this wasn’t the case at all. The more that she looked at the booking, the more that she realised that it was real and someone actually had booked to stay at their Lodge in the month of September.

“Holy Fuck.” Christian couldn’t help the profanities as they slipped from her lips, then parting in shock when she finally read the full confirmation.

Christian had expected to see that the booking would be for a few days, probably three at most, but when she saw that it was for the entire month. The entire fucking month, she felt her heart stop. Whoever this person was, H.Styles as the booking says, wanted to come and stay at their Lodge for the entire month. The most they’ve ever had was a week before, and that was during the height of summer when the kids were off school. To say that the two sisters were in shock would certainly be an understatement.

“Is this a joke?” Luisa asks, obviously just as dumbfounded as Christian at what she was looking at, “This can’t be real.”

“It looks like it.” Christian starts to scroll through the information that had been given, “The email, card. Everything.”

“You search him on Insta, I’ll do Facebook.”

Christian immediately takes her phone out and opens Instagram, typing in H.Styles to see if anything comes up, but it doesn’t. No matter how much Christian scrolls through all of the profiles that come up from the search as well. At the same time, one of these profiles could be of the person coming to stay at their Lodge in the next few days, Christian just didn’t know. After she closed her phone and placed it face down on the table, she looked up at Luisa who had her face too close to the screen of her own phone as she looked at something.

“Think you’ve found him?” Christian asks, leaning over her sister's shoulder to look at the profile that she was on.

“I don’t know.” Luisa mumbles, passing her phone to her sister, “Maybe this could be him.”

The profile that Luisa showed her sister was one of the profiles that look as if they aren’t used at all, but it’s actually just because they have a private account. The profile picture looked to be of a man, maybe around Christian’s age, or maybe Luisa’s but they couldn’t tell because the photo only showed the side of his face. From what Christian could also tell, the photo seemed to have been taken in a museum of some sort, and it looked almost serene.

“Could be.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose we’ll know in two days.”

Luisa sighs and drops her head back, “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.”

“Shut it.” Christian shakes her head, thwacking her sister on the shoulder, “Have a little patience. Why do you care anyway?”

“Well excuse me for being curious on who the person is who’s going to feed us in September and October.” Luisa shakes her head before moving herself backwards, “I’m going to check some things with Yani, are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, giving her a small smile, “Have fun. Let me know if you hear anything about abuela.”

“Same to you.”

Christian gives her sister one last smile as she ventures back inside and towards the kitchen, before she places her attention back onto the booking in front of her. This was certainly going to be one for the record books, whether Christian and Luisa knew that yet or not.

As Christian sat drinking the coffee that she had made herself a few minutes prior, she quickly realised that it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at a time like this.

Christian’s social anxiety certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it still wasn’t the best. Christian’s mother has said from her being a young child that she can talk for England if it’s to someone who she knows and trusts, but the second that it’s to someone who she doesn’t know and doesn’t feel comfortable with, she’s nervous and awkward and will only speak if she’s spoken to. The accident certainly didn’t help, and for a while Christian only spoke to her family and doctors but she bounced back from that quicker than anyone could have imagined, and she guessed that was because of Little Lodge and how it brought Christian out of her comfort zone.

Just because Christian was better than she had been, it certainly didn’t mean that she was completely cured because that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. She would still fumble on her words, albeit not as much as she used to, but it would still happen. More often than not Christian wouldn’t speak unless she was spoken to and she tries her hardest to stay away from social situations that she knew would stress her out, because that wasn’t good for anyone.

One of the little worries that she had picked up since opening the Lodge, though, was whenever they had somebody book online and Christian wasn’t distracted enough to not think about it, that would be all that she would think about. Sometimes she would get herself into some quite horrible states worrying about the types of people that were going to walk through their doors, but Christian had to remind herself that speculation isn’t the right thing to do and that she can’t let herself worry like that unless that is actually something to worry about — obviously that doesn’t mean she completely stops doing it.

That was one of the reasons why Christian hadn’t slept at all last night, and why when she woke up this morning she felt the need to make herself a large cup of coffee. The only thing was that the more caffeine that the girl drank, the more that her heart started to beat faster within her chest. At this moment in time, Christian didn’t know if it was more nerves or excitement that H.Styles was arriving today.

“You look like death.” Luisa says, as she stops her chair in front of the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too, Luisa.” Christian says sarcastically, lifting her eyes up from the screen to look directly at her sister, “Did you sleep well? Are you excited for today? How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” She shakes her head and places her hands on the desk, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“As you lovingly pointed out, I look like death, so no, I didn’t.” Christian explains, unable to stop herself from letting out a large yawn.

“You need to sleep, Chris.” Luisa shakes her head, “I get that you worry but it certainly isn’t worth losing sleep over.”

“I know.” Christian offers her sister a small smile, “I’m not gonna be able to ever stop doing it, I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Luisa nods her head, “And I’m sure you know that I’m going to keep telling you that you look like death.”

Christian grins, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Luisa’s phone pings before she can say anything else, and Christian knows that it’s probably time for her to leave. Luisa and her girlfriend, Elsa, have had this day planned as their date day for a long time, and Christian wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of their day.

Luisa and Elsa have been together for three years now. They met when Luisa went away to Sweden for a few weeks with her friends from school. Elsa had been visiting her family and they met through a confusing line of mutual friends that Christian had very little interest in learning about. All Christian cared about was that her sister was happy, and if Elsa was the person to do that then that was all Christian wanted in life. When the accident happened, Luisa had been worried that Elsa wouldn’t want to be with her anymore, and no matter how many times Christian reassured her sister that Elsa wouldn’t do that and that she loved her, Luisa just believed that wasn’t the case. As Christian had reassured her sister, Elsa didn’t leave. In fact, Elsa did everything that she could to help Luisa.

For Christian, Luisa and Elsa were the epitome of what she wanted in life. She wanted someone to look at her the way they look at each other, and love her like they love each other.

“El’s here.” Luisa grinned as she looked at her sister again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can stay if you want, go out later.”

“No!” Christian exclaimed, shaking her head, “You’re not cancelling because of this. I’ll be fine. You two enjoy yourself.”

Luisa looks at her sister and raises one of her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Completely positive?”

“Luisa!” Christian exclaims, shaking her head, “Go to your girlfriend, everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” Christian stood up and made her way towards her sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then making her way over to the door and opening it for her. Christian can see Elsa’s car parked at the end of the street and she smiles at the sight, “I’ll see you later. Message me if you need me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

Christian watches for a little while longer, just checking that Luisa actually makes it to Elsa. Once she sees the car door open and Elsa steps out, Christian takes it as her cue to go back inside. There aren’t any guests staying at the Lodge at this exact time, so it feels a little odd to Christian that someone will be coming tonight and that they’re going to be staying for the entire month, and be the only guest that they have for a while.

Yesterday, seeing as though it was the only day that Christian had been given to prepare, she made a start on deciding which room she was going to give H.Styles and started to get it ready. Luisa had spent the day at reception so that Christian could do that, only face-timing her every once in a while so that she could see what Christian was doing to the rooms.

A part of Christian often felt guilty when it came to the two rooms that were on the upper floor of the Lodge. They were the largest and fanciest rooms in Christian’s opinion, but due to the narrow staircase Luisa had never been able to go up and see them in real life so she had to settle for Christian’s shaky camera work on facetime.

Christian had to choose between rooms Seda and Luz which were both nice for different reasons. She supposes that she is biased because she designed these rooms and helped decorate them more as her own than the rooms downstairs. Due to Luisa not being able to go up to decorate the rooms, Christian had basically been given free reign of the rooms to do whatever she wanted with them. When it came to the names of the rooms, Seda and Luz, which mean silk and light in Spanish, Christian knew that she wanted to incorporate some form of each of the words into the decoration of the room.

When it came to Seda, Christian made the main colour combination in the room a dark grey and peach colour and incorporated the silk in with the curtains and the cushions that were used as decoration. Everything matches and isn’t too cluttered in the rooms, which is one of the things that Christian loves about being able to decorate her own rooms. The second room, Luz, she decided to make the accents in the room navy blue, including an accent wall which was a pain in Christian’s arse to paint, but once it was finished it really did bring the room together. The vocal point of the room, though, had to be the different exposed light bulbs that light up the room: there were three on the ceiling, and other lamps assorted throughout the room.

Christian had ended up cleaning and making sure that both rooms were adequate. She changed the sheets, hoovered, placed down fresh towels, dusted and did basically everything else that she could to not only distract herself but make the rooms ready for when H.Styles arrived.

Luisa always used to say, whenever they spoke about the Bed and Breakfast that she were going to own before the accident happened, that she reckoned that the cleaning and the upkeep portion would be the worst and for a while Christian thought the same, but she quickly came to realise that truly wasn’t the case. Christian loved to clean and make sure that everything was tidy for whenever the guests arrived and after having a little more thought about it, Christian believed that the reason she enjoyed cleaning was because it gave her time to relax and not think about everything else in her life. She often had her headphones on with music playing, or maybe even a podcast every now and then. Christian couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment in her life where she became an old woman, but she couldn’t say that she minded.

She decided that the best thing that she could do is wait until H.Styles arrived for her to make any decisions about which room she thought would be the best. Of course, Christian wouldn’t know anything about him by just checking him in she would at least be given a slight indication of which room he may enjoy more.

Christian had no idea what time H.Styles would be arriving, and that was one of the things that was creating a bit of suspense. She was checking their books and making sure everything was in line and at any given second he could arrive and she would meet the person who had booked to stay there for the entire month. Christian believed that maybe that was why she spent a lot of her time wondering about who was coming to stay with them, because who would need to stay in their little corner of the Lake District for that amount of time, who would need to do that?

If there was one thing that Christian certainly wasn’t doing it was complaining. This man, whoever he was and for whatever reasons he was doing this, would be paying their bills and giving them enough money to keep themselves going for a little while longer, or at least until October Half-Term.

Christian quickly learnt that there wasn’t going to be much for her to do but sit and wait, and due to her being on her own in the Lodge, she saw no issues with connecting her phone to her speakers and blasting out music into the room. Luisa always said that Christian had a weird taste in music, but Christian just said that it was eclectic.

The thing about Christian, especially when it came to her music, was that she listened to everything. If someone recommended a song, she’d listen to it, and if she liked that song then she’d listen to it again and again. She would never say that she wouldn’t listen to a song just because it’s country, or that she doesn’t like this artist very much so she won’t listen to it either. If a song is a good song, and she likes it, then she’d listen to it. That did mean that Christian’s playlists were a little all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried to organise them, it just wasn’t possible.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John was the song blasting through the speakers at this time, a classic if Christian said so herself. She had done everything work wise that she needed to do, so she spent her time reading one of the books that she had picked up from the bookstore in the village: one about love, death and everything in between. It was good, but it wasn’t one of her favourites, but she’d definitely finish reading it just to see how it ended.

She was completely submerged in the words on the page, and the words floating around her ears when the door opened. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the man walking closer to the desk until she saw movement from over the pages of her book which caused her lips to part open in shock slightly. Her eyes flickered to the time on the computer, and it read that it was just past one in the afternoon, and she was shocked to say the least that he was already there.

Christian abandoned her book and threw it down, hoping that she’d at least get to remember where she was in the book because the pages had closed, and clicked her phone on so she could pause the music. Her eyes then flickered up to the man who was standing above her, and she couldn’t help her lips parting as she then looked him up and down. She was trying not to stare, she really was, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it to say the least.

From what Christian could see, he was wearing a denim flat-cap on his head with brown curls peeking out of the bottom. He was also wearing sunglasses over his eyes, but she watched him take them off and they were now placed on the top of the reception desk. She could only see just under his chest, but he was wearing a red and blue striped shirt and a blue jacket. Christian couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he liked the colour blue, since he was wearing quite a lot of it.

“Hi.” Christian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that crossed her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“M’Harry.” The man says, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he does so. Harry, “I made a booking a few days ago, I’m here to check in.”

Christian nods her head, “I’ll just get that up for you."

She wiggles the mouse to wake the computer up and quickly types in the password so that their systems come back up. Christian’s a little embarrassed to say the least that their systems weren’t already up but she wasn’t expecting him to arrive yet, so she hadn’t prepared for it. Once the system is loaded up and she has his booking, she offers him another smile.

One of the things that Christian had prepared though was the bill that he has to sign beforehand with the deposit on it that states that he’ll get the deposit money back if the room is left unharmed.

“Can you sign and date on the dotted line, please?” She asks, giving him the sheet of paper and a pan. She watches as he signs H.Styles, in a beautiful penmanship if she does say so herself, and then passes back to her.

She clicks a few more buttons on the computer before opening the drawer and starting to flicker through the keys, “One room, for thirty nights.”

Christian tries to hide the shock in her voice when she says how long he’s staying but she certainly doesn’t do a good job of it. As Christian flickered through the keys, she finally landed on the one that she had been waiting for, the one for Luz. It seemed like an obvious choice in Christian’s mind when she saw what he was wearing to pick Luz, so that’s the one she decided upon.

“That’s right.” Harry nods his head.

“Great.” Christian sighs with a smile on her face, trying her hardest not to make the situation more awkward than it was, “I’ll, uh, show you to your room.”

He nods his head and she watches as he picks up the suitcases that she hadn’t even noticed he had with him and followed her towards the staircase. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the fact that he was walking behind her, watching her and she couldn’t see what his face looked like. That was certainly why, and not because she had noticed that he had quite the handsome face.

Once she made it up to Luz, and she had turned the light switch on so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark trying to find where they were going, she used the key in her hand to open the door. Christian walked in first, just because there wasn’t enough room on the narrow landing for them both to stand and manoeuvre around each other — Christian had learnt that the hard way.

She placed the key on the cabinet in the room, and then turned to look at Harry who had just placed his suitcases down on the ground. He looked around the room for a little while and then moved to the window, looking out before turning to Christian.

“It’s lovely.”

Christian nodded her head in thanks, “Breakfast is from seven to nine everyday in the conservatory. I’ll, uh, leave you to get settled in and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

The second Christian walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, she lets out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she had been holding.

Christian messaged Luisa that he had arrived but she received no reply. She didn’t think too much of it, because she knew that whenever Elsa and Luisa were together they were so completely obsessed with each other that nothing can distract them. Luisa knows though that if she doesn’t give Christian an update of their whereabouts by five then Christian would start to worry — they had four hours before Christian would start to worry.

For a little while Christian didn’t put her music back on, and she listened to the creeks of the ceiling as Harry moved around above her.

He didn’t give anything away of who he was, or why he was there but at the same time Christian made no indication of wanting to know anything. If Luisa would have been here when he arrived, that would probably be a completely different story. Luisa would’ve gotten some information out of him, Christian knew it for certain. She wondered who he was, and what he was doing here, but she wouldn’t ask him.

When the creeks of the ceilings stopped and there wasn’t anything else for Christian to listen to, she turned her music back on and picked up her book. It took her a while to locate where she was, having just thrown it on the side earlier when she noticed that he was there but she soon found the page she was up to. The words, as much as Christian tried to digest them, just weren’t going into her head in the way that they had been.

Christian wasn’t playing the music as loud as she had been earlier, mainly because she wanted to hear and listen when he started moving again, and when he eventually came downstairs. He had to come down at some point, seeing as though he had to eat and even though they serve breakfast at the Lodge, they don't serve lunch or dinner just yet. It was something that Christian and Luisa had been looking into, but it takes more work than they could have ever imagined to make something like that work.

Around two hours after Harry first arrived, she heard movement upstairs and towards the landing that caused her heart to skip a beat. Christian quickly turned her music off, and managed to place her bookmark in her book before he walked into the reception. She tried not to make it obvious and she placed her hand on the mouse of her computer as though she had been doing something, but she wasn’t the best actress and she was sure that it was completely obvious what she had been doing.

He gave her a smile as he walked into the room and towards the desk, and she tried not to seem awkward when she gave him one back but she was sure that she’d failed at that too.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He nods his head, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just. . . I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations of places to eat.”

“Oh, uh, I do know of some good places.” She nods her head, “What food do you like? Then I know what to recommend.”

“I’ll eat anything, to be honest.” He chuckles, a smile crossing his lips. He had dimples.

“Uh, well, there’s a good Italian restaurant about a mile from here.” Christian shrugs, “I can call you a taxi, if you would like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs, “Have you got the postcode? Or some directions.”

“Yeah, it’s just down the road.” She points to the left, “If you go over the bridge and just follow the road for a mile or so, you can’t miss it. It’s called Galileo’s.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and turns to walk towards the door.

He opens the door and then moves to the side, stopping his actions. Christian furrows her eyebrows as she watches everything unfold. Luisa and Elsa walk through the opened door, smiling at Harry as they do so before turning to look at Christian with wide eyes. The two of them look over their shoulder and watch as the door shuts behind Harry as he leaves, and their eyes immediately fall to Christian again who’s looking at them with her teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip.

“Oh. My. God.” Luisa slowly makes her way towards Christian, stopping when she’s finished saying the last word, “You failed to mention in your message that the man was basically a Greek God, Christ Christian.”

“Do you really think that me of all people would say that?” Christian sighs and shakes her head.

Elsa shakes her head, “Chris wouldn’t say that, Lu. You know that.”

Luisa accepts her girlfriend’s hand on her shoulder with a kiss, “Doesn’t mean it’s any less true though. Did he tell you anything?”

“His name is Harry.”

Luisa doesn’t blink as she looks at her sister, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That’s all he said.” Christian nods her head, “He just came down to ask for a recommendation of places to eat and I told him to go to Galileo’s.”

“Jeez.” Elsa sucks a breath through her teeth and shakes her head, “Galileo’s? On the first night? Are you sure?”

“Galileo is harmless.” Christian shakes her head.

“He’s a nutcase.” Luisa sighs, shaking her head.

“He’s not.” Christian pouts, “He’s not around me, anyway.”

Elsa laughs and sits down on one of the couches that rest against the wall of the reception, “If he survive’s Galileo’s then he’ll survive staying here for an entire month, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” Luisa whines, “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Christian’s quick to say after her sister, “You are though.”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, missy.” Luisa says, lifting her hand up and pointing one of her fingers at her sister, “I’m still the older one in this situation.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows and looks at her sister, “Are you sure about that?”

“Shut it, you.” Luisa shakes her head, turning her attention back to her sister, “If I were you, I’d just keep an eye on him. See if you can figure out anything about him.”

“I’m not going to stalk him, Luisa!”

“I wasn’t telling you to stalk him!” She exclaims back, “I was just telling you to observe, like a good host would.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows from behind her girlfriend, “It sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

Luisa shakes her head, “I hate you both.”

Christian grins and tilts her head to the side, “You love us really.”

Although Christian would never admit it, watching and listening seemed like quite a good way of figuring out who this man was and why he was here. She wasn’t going to be stalking him though, just observing.

[rakhma-agape-ahavah]

Last August, a month before my sister in law got remarried, I had a dream about her that I believed with absolute certainty was from God.

In my dream she was at her baby shower, posing outside for photos with her aunt in a white shirt with lavender colored flowers. I was so certain of the dream, I reached out to one of my dearest friends to help me bring the design out of my mind and onto paper.

But being able to have children was something my sister in law wasn't even sure would ever happen. She'd been married before, to a terrible man. One who held her back from her relationship with God. A hateful, angry, controlling man. She had married him when she was very young, and after an emergency trip to the hospital found that, much like myself, she was highly unlikely to ever have children. And in the seven years they were married, they never did.

Mercifully, she was able to get a divorce, and be free of him. She moved in with my husband and I, and we got to see her relationship with Jesus blossom even more. Her dad had purchased a guitar for her before his passing, and it was a joy to have her sing worship songs in our home, free and unhindered, as she learned to play guitar beautifully. No fear that she would be stopped from praising her Father in heaven to her heart's content.

After about a year she gained independence from us, and began living on her own. She then met a wonderful Christian man, with a deep love for the Lord. I'm honored now to call him family, and to trust him with my husband's sister, whom we all adore.

In March, we got a phone call.

They were expecting.

I searched again for the shirt that was impossible to find: high and low for her, I scoured the internet for the shirt I saw her wearing in my dream, glowing and radiant in her pregnancy. Comparing every shirt on the internet to the drawing my friend had made. But I couldn't find anything exactly like it.

So with the help of my dearest, and oldest friends, I had the shirt custom designed and made for her. And it was, indeed, ready for her when her baby shower came around.

I took the photos for her baby shower myself. And at the last minute, when her aunt was leaving, and realizing we hadn't yet gotten a photo with her, we took a photo with her outside before she got in her car.

And when I came home, editing the photos, I realized I'd seen the image before. And it was the only photo taken outside, with the same person she had posed beside in my dream. I absolutely wept with my joy.

These last few months of her pregnancy, I've been having dreams of her singing worship music in her living room with a toddler. And this precious child in my dream belted out praises to God with all the power her little lungs could muster. I heard a voice in one of those dreams; that she would love Him with all her heart. And I am so excited to see what God has planned for her. I am overjoyed to the point of tears, and I am honored by what I've been allowed to see already.

I write all this now to announce to you that today, I received news just a little while ago, that this precious little baby was finally born. 8 pounds and 2 ounces.

What a mighty God we serve, who sets the captive free, and gives hope to the hopeless. Glory to God.

I'll update you again in a few years, whenever she learns to sing. I long to hear this sweet baby sing hymns again. The memory of a dream is not enough. And I can't wait for others to hear her sweet voice.

And in case you don't believe me, here is the proof. The proof that God keeps His promises, that God doesn't lie, that what He says is always true. Proof that obviously, there is Someone greater, Someone who knows us better than we know ourselves, and loves us so greatly that we cannot hope to comprehend it. Who else would know this child when she was only a hope, and a dream? Not I. I didn't have the power to know, or to call upon this dream. I'm no one. I'm nothing. And He is everything.

Acts 2:17 In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.

I cannot describe the greatness of my joy, that I might be blessed to know one more person in this life who loved God so much nothing could stop her from proclaiming Him to the world.

And God showed her to me, of all people, the least deserving. He showed hope, and faith, to a nobody like me, in ways I can never deny. And now, I want to show it to you.

Jesus loves you. God bless you all.

[needstostopbinging]

This isn't Ed related, but it's something I'd like to get out.

I wonder if my old best friend thinks about me as often as I think about her. Not in some weird, obsessive way. Hell, I don't even know if I'd want to try going back to being friends after what I did. It's a guilt too much to handle that I can never seem to shake.

I think about her and the relationship we used to have every time I walk into a class we have together. We sit on opposite sides of the the room and I pray to catch her looking at me. Just once, I want her to look at me with some semblance of emotion. Even if it's disgust. Even if it's hatred. It's ok if she hates me. At least that'd be SOMETHING.

I guess it's selfish to wish she was just a fraction as hung up on me as I am on her. She was my oldest friend and, at a lot of times, my only friend. Sure, I had acquaintances everywhere, but she was the only one who seems to care about me beyond something to talk at for a few minutes to keep boredom away.

It all started changing in 7th grade. That's when I met and befriended my current partner. It was when I re-realized and accepted the fact I'm queer. I started making new friends and becoming obsessed with fandom culture. Before, I would like a show here or there, but mostly just listen to other people talk about things and pretend I could relate. I still do that, but now I have my own interests too.

I started making new friends who who were lgbt and found refuge with them. It was a comfort beyond words, as I'd spent so long hating that part of myself because of my Christian upbringing. I was happy, in that sence, but my overall mental health was also starting to decline.

I don't want to use my depression or anxiety as an excuse. Sure, it makes sense for why it started, but I feel like there is no good excuse for not having done anything to fix it. I essentially abandoned her. I shut her out. To this day, I have no clue how I let that happen. I've had separation anxiety for longer than I can remember. My biggest fear is being abandoned and left alone, yet here I was. My memory of the past few years is foggy, but it's like one day we were best friends, the next day I'd flat out stopped talking to her.

I tried reaching out again, but it just didn't feel right. I was used to talking to her face to face, but with her in honors classes and me falling behind academically, the only way for us to talk was messaging. I apologized for ghosting her and she apologized for how she used to view members of the lgbt community. We had no-bullshit conversations about mental health and such. It didn't last long, though. Like I said, my memory is shit. I genuinely can't remember the last thing I said to her. Or the last time we talked. I think it's been over a year now at least, but I'm not entirely sure.

I don't know why I don't just TALK to her. It's too intimidating. It's too scary. I've changed so much since the time we were closest. If there are any good memories of me in her head, I feel like a conversation with the new me would taint them forever. Maybe I fear the same thing for me. I'm sure she's changed a tone too. That's just how people work. Throughout all my scarce, fuzzy memories, any time I remember hearing her voice, I was happy. Maybe not entirely. We did talk about some dark things and I was always as empathetic as I could be, but even when discussing the worst, I was glad to be in her company and proud to be someone she saw worthy of confiding in.

She seems happy enough. She started dating this guy we've known our whole lives and, at least from my outside view, it seems to be a healthy and good relationship. He was always nice and I know his mom, so I'm fairly confident he treats her well. She has her own group of friends, people she'd been friend with just as long as us, but who I never really clicked with. She seems happy whenever I see her in the halls or the lunchroom. I hope that's true. She used to be so good at being happy, even when she was telling me about something devastating. She always had just the right joke to make sure things never got too dark. I can only hope she's in a good space mentally and that her high ambitions for life work out. All I want for her is the best life has to offer. I want her to have escaped every dark thing she's been through and spoken to me about and to live her life joyfully. Even if it's not realistic, that is my only hope for her.

I'm crying now. Actual tears. I guess it's just really sinking in how much I lost. Not just a friend. I feel like growing apart from her lines up too well with my mental health going to shit for it to have been a coincidence. Even if it's not WHY I'm so messed up now, it definitely didn't make things better. I miss her so much, but it feels too late to try and reconcile. I don't know what to do.

[kira-ani-mcgrath]

I've little interest in Frozen stuff but I've seen bits and pieces of this Hans stuff you've mentioned on and off and I'm curious about something. When you say someone is acting un-Christlike by saying a character is irredeemable, what is it you exactly mean? Because sometimes yea, it can be narratively unsatisfying to randomly redeem a character in a story. Example: People debating if it would be narratively satisfying if Azula got redeemed. It's got nothing to do with worldview imo.

For context, this ask comes in the wake of this post.

I’m posting this reply publicly so I can refer back to it if needed in the future. I received a similar ask [hopefully that link works] on the heels of this post, which I answered privately without saving a copy of my response, and it would have been useful if I’d saved and/or posted it. Thus, here we are.

I want to make something 100% unquestionably clear to anyone who follows me or reads my posts: whenever I criticize someone labeling Hans “unredeemable”/“irredeemable” it is ALWAYS in the context of someone declaring him un/irredeemable because of what he has done.

It is NEVER people saying they don’t think Disney should redeem him because they’re worried WDAS will do a terrible job of it. It is NEVER people saying they don’t want him redeemed in an unsatisfying manner (i.e.: “BTW he’s good now, he changed off-screen and now he’s back like nothing bad happened.”). It is NEVER people saying that his redemption may not fit well into a particular scenario. It confuses me that people are interpreting my words this way, because if I were to express concern about the way a character’s actual or potential redemption were handled, I would never do it by labeling the character irredeemable or saying the character shouldn’t be redeemed at all, full stop. I would include the nuances I am referring to, such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed off-screen,” or “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this movie.” Therefore, if I am saying people shouldn’t call a character irredeemable, I’m not referring to specific cases such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed by this creative team,” or, “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this manner.” I am referring to a much larger picture.

I am criticizing people who say Hans is evil, malicious, unfeeling, manipulative, abusive, a villain, a sociopath, and/or a murder, and therefore he can never and should never be redeemed. I am criticizing people who don’t want Hans redeemed because they have a personal grudge against the character. I am criticizing people who think that once a character crosses a particular line (and apparently this line is unique for Hans, based on what he actually did compared to every other “bad guy” in fictional history), the character is now 100% bad and can never be good in any way ever again.

A Christian should never think this way. There is no unforgivable sin (besides attributing works of the Holy Spirit to Satan, as some of the Pharisees did). We are to love our enemies and desire what is best for them - to be saved, redeemed - and yet I see people with the word “Christian” in their bio bragging about how much they hate Hans because he was so terrible to Anna and Elsa, rejoicing that Hans remains unredeemed in canon, cheering when Anna punches Hans in Frozen, laughing when the Frozen Fever snowball crashes into him, agreeing with Elsa calling him an “unredeemable monster” and approving of her destroying his snow-figure in Frozen II. I see those who say they belong to Christ - the Savior who took on every sin imaginable - saying that Hans is simply too mean, too horrible, too evil to be redeemed. I hope this is obvious, but there should be no such thing as “too [x] for redemption” to the Christian. There is never anyone, real or fictional, beyond salvation and redemption. [The only exception I could think of would be a fictional world where the rules are the antithesis to Christianity - then you could say a character is irredeemable because the very nature of that universe doesn’t allow for the character’s redemption. But that certainly doesn’t apply to Frozen.]

Now to address the Azula example brought up at the end. I’m not an A:TLA fan, but I did watch the entire show and I see the occasional meta cross my dash now and then. I’m not familiar with any debates as you have referenced, so I’m just going to give my own examples to hopefully add some extra clarity to my position.

First, I fail to see how a well-done redemption arc could ever be “narratively unsatisfying,” particularly for the Christian. If it’s well-written and you see the steps the character takes, their failings and their successes, I would think that'd be quite a satisfying story. So what is the actual issue when debating characters’ redemptions? I believe it’s concerns of quality, characterization, and actions.

Given where we see Azula at the end of her fight with Zuko in the finale, it would certainly be unsatisfying if she was chilling in Iroh’s tea shop with everyone in the final moments of the series. Likewise, I would not want to see a Hans redemption where we are re-introduced to Hans and he’s completely apologetic and ready to right any wrongs. In fact, I am put-off by fanfics that start with Hans having already repented, changed, etc., from his canon actions and self. I want to see the process of change, so that it is satisfying when he finally makes the right decision.

Given the existing three seasons of A:TLA, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for an Azula redemption arc. Given the current Frozen material, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for a Hans redemption arc.

Had there been further canon A:TLA material, and there was an Azula redemption arc done as well as Zuko’s (such as described in this Twitter thread), I would have found that very narratively satisfying. Now, others may not like how that theoretical redemption was handled, plotted, etc. That’s perfectly fine. Likewise, people may have certain ways they don’t want a theoretical Hans redemption handled, plotted, etc. Again, perfectly fine. One can disagree on the way a redemption arc was/might be handled without dismissing the redemption altogether.

People may want Azula to remain unredeemed because they believe she would choose to be so. That’s fine (though others are allowed to disagree). For example, if she were to maintain that she did nothing wrong and reject any help Zuko and Iroh offered, then she would remain unredeemed. Alternatively, she could realize that what she did was wrong, but then go the opposite direction and believe she doesn’t deserve anything good, so she would reject love and help at every turn for the rest of her life, and thus remain unredeemed. However, I have never seen anyone call a character “irredeemable” and mean that they believe the character would actively choose to reject offers of redemption.

People may say Azula or Hans shouldn’t be redeemed because it would be out-of-character. From an unbeliever’s perspective, that may be correct, as they think certain traits as immutable. However, that’s wrong from a Christian perspective, as anyone can change if enabled by the grace of God. In fictional worlds that don’t have any Christianity, you simply use an imperfect archetype to play a pivotal role in the character’s transformation (i.e., Uncle Iroh to Zuko).

People may not be against an Azula or Hans redemption in and of itself, but think it makes the most narrative sense to leave the characters unredeemed - whether it be because there wasn’t enough time in canon, or there’s other characters to focus on, or some other behind-the-fourth-wall reason. That doesn’t make the characters irredeemable, it just means that’s the way the story currently stands. There’s no reason that story can’t change in the future.

However, if people are saying Azula shouldn’t be redeemed at all because what she did was too wrong, then that is un-Christ-like. Likewise, saying Hans is irredeemable because what he did was too wrong is indisputably un-Christ-like. Now, of course, I can’t expect unbelievers to act Christ-like, so it doesn’t surprise me when I see them express such sentiments. However, when a Christian argues against redemption on these grounds, I absolutely question why. You claim to stand on the Word of God, but declare there are actions too heinous to be forgiven and characters that don’t deserve redemption? God rebuked a man for his desire to see people punished instead of forgiven [Jonah], forgave adultery and murder [David], and transformed a man from persecuting to teaching the Church [Saul/Paul]. Yet you put your stamp of approval on a lack of redemption for a character because of the actions of that character? Further sanctification is needed, whether in love for the lost or in fully surrendering all to Christ. A lack of redemption should only serve as a warning of what happens to those who reject truth, love, and forgiveness - because, as we know, not everyone will be saved. A Christian should never be against redemption because they personally hate the character, or think the character is unforgivable, or believe the character doesn’t “deserve” it, or any other reason antithetical to who Christ is and what He has done.

[blacksunscorpio]

Hi! Omg i love your blog and I feel like you might have soom good insight on this: Do you know how I can become more enlightened? I've bought so man decks, gotten so many readings, I watch so many Youtube videos on spirituality the craft, and astrology and placed a shipment for almost every crystal known to man but don't feel any closer to the divine. Am I doing something wrong? How do I make the best out of all these tools?

Hmmmm... my love, I hate to say this but it sounds like you may be suffering from what is termed as “Spiritual Materialism.”

What is Spiritual Materialism?

It’s the phenomenon that happens when we use spiritual concepts, doctrines, practices, and tools to reinforce the false sense of self, the ego. 

But being free of the ego is the very definition of spiritual enlightenment. I won’t lie, I think we’ve all suffered from it at one point or another. I know I have. so here are some tips to identify whether or not you may be a victim of this mindset.

 1. Being a constant shopper in “spiritual marketplaces”

.... this includes chasing or being thirsty for endless workshops, methods, tools, talismans, and techniques which all promise to make you a wiser, more intuitive, more at peace or blissful, person. These shopping sprees can get out of control very fast. Now there’s nothing wrong with wanting to educate yourself, or simply being curious [I was a double major in history and international studies, I get it, lol] but we have to remember that the acquisition of these things in an attempt to become more awakened can become more of an addiction than anything else. It’ll also hurt your pockets.

 

2. “Grass is Greener Syndrome” or “Future Obsessive Compulsion”

Or believing “if I just do this” or “if only I was in *insert Nirvana-esque location here*” that one can get to an ‘elevated state’ in the future. “I’ll be better than who I am now. I’ll be my best.” This causes one to forget the present. To neglect the good already in them. Dwelling on dreams and forgetting to live. It may seem ambitious but it is fundamentally egocentric.

3. Being a “Spiritual Influencer”

Also known as “InstaSpirituality”. These are the types to focus on aesthetically pleasing spiritual practices, things that are Tik-Tok-able or Snapchat/Insta worthy. Spirituality that is used strictly for social capital/gain when there is no sincere desire to really delve into the deeper, messier, Tower-like moments that often walk hand in hand with spiritual awakenings. These moments are typically not ones you want to catch on camera.

4. Spiritual cultural appropriation

Using words, practices, ways of life of cultures other than your own for profit/self-image or self-gain only and not because you truly respect them honor them or even attempted to understand them. We must remember that every culture on earth has a deep and rich history and it is disrespectful to use what others find sacred as a boomerang on your social media feed.

5. Focusing solely on the “positive”

I know this sounds like it should be a good thing but what we have to understand is that humans and the universe as a whole are only balanced with light and dark. Yin and Yang. You cannot have one without the other. Focusing only on “high vibes” or “love and light” creates illusion. It creates a false world so that the ego avoids the reality of its own shadow. In fact, your shadow exists to protect you. That urge you get to defend yourself when you’re attacked by an insult or a sudden ‘left-hook’. That boil in your belly when you see someone getting buck with you and you wish to retaliate. The black and blue balls you give the asshole harassing you in the club after kneeing him in them is your shadow self protecting your conscious/physical-self. This is your basic instinct, as they call it. The basic self will act primarily to preserve the body. It will resist anything that will harm or hurt the body or that will cause destruction to itself  You have to embrace it. You have to work with both and not let one run rough-shod over the other.

6. Spiritual Elitism

Or using spiritual achievements, lineage, gifts, etc to feel superior or disconnect from others. The types who cultivate spiritual resumes [a list of all the important people they’ve met, certifications they have or abilities they claim to own] to impress themselves and others. I also call this spiritual narcissism. This is actually what ends up being the result of spiritual materialism. The ego becomes elephantine. So big and so impervious that it not only consciously believes it is more “awakened” but it will do anything to reinforce this [typically false] narrative. Included but not limited to harming others through arrogance, narcissism, and at it’s worst physical harm. These individuals typically suffer from insecurities themselves. Often you find these individuals within organized religious sectors, yes [Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, etc] but they can also be found in the Divining, Astro, Witch & Reiki community as well. These are the modern-day equivalents of Slytherins and their “pure-blood” nonsense. Believing everyone else to be of dirty-blood or less than. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being proud of your heritage, gifts, or things you simply worked hard for. Especially in a world that makes you believe being proud of yourself or your culture [especially if you’re not white] is a sin and self-deprecation and humility are admirable [they’re not.] But are you really enlightened if you do not allow others the same grace to work towards what you believe you’ve achieved? The point is to not be judgmental, but instead to be aware and compassionate with ourselves and others.

7. Self-Improvement addiction

Hopping around from teacher to teacher, guru to guru in your attempt to become more healed, more awakened, more in touch with the supernatural. Practicing meditation with the agenda to avoid any feeling and/or suffering by being detached on a 24-hour basis. The reality is, these practices are more harmful than helpful. You need your emotions. They’re what make you human. And the inconvenient truth is that they are always fluctuating [water signs, I know you hear me on this]. In your attempt to improve yourself constantly, you’re reinforcing the negative mindset that you are somehow “broken” and need to be “fixed” and as a result, you are never happy.

In essence

Spiritual materialism is what occurs when spirituality feeds the ego and the ego greedily sucks it all in. When we take something Divine and try to possess it as our own. When we are fuelled with ego-centric or self-serving motives. Again, we all have this tendency, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I myself have suffered from No. 2 and No. 7 the most. Now that you all know some of the symptoms, can you be honest with yourself? How many of these can you relate to? What steps will you take to be more aware and adjust some of these habits? It may be hard to admit but as they say in AA, the first step is acceptance, of yourself and your flaws. 

[shadowknight465]

The heretic inside us all

I should, I shouldn't, I should, I shouldn't...

He whispered to himself while plucking the flower's petals. Maybe those things are lying to him, and because he has such a bad reputation, he doesn't know if he should talk to the Priest about them. Maybe if he does it would be another excuse for the Priest to tell more lies about him. Then again that Priest was creeping at one of his secret students. Making her feel uncomfortable. Or if he goes to detail on what those things look like he'll probably give him the answer, and maybe some holy charms to ward them off. Whatever the case is he has to do it at midnight to not draw any attention. But first he has to tell Dream, so he wouldn't be worried. He went back to his house feeling lucky that it's a Sunday. When he got home he instantly made himself some lunch and went to the well for a drink. He may not be a religious person, but Sunday is his favorite day. Where he can be alone for once, he knows the Bible well, but the real reason why he stopped becoming a Christian devoted man was because God never answered his prayers, and he saw how people use their religion as an excuse for being horrible people, and he doesn't want to be just like them. Still he can't change their perspective of things, and it will kept that way. He was probably asleep when Dream came back, because when he woke up the first thing he saw was the face of a green caterpillar. He slowly got up, and asked Dream what time it was. To which his brother pouted saying Nightmare can never be scared. Nightmare sighs with annoyance, and asks Dream what time it is again. Dream blinked, "Oh! Umm.. I didn't check the sundial, or in this case the moon-dial?" As Dream collects his thoughts, Nightmare walks to the sundial room. Midnight. Perfect. Nightmare grabbed his cloak, took off his crown, put the mysterious book under his shirt, and told Dream that he'll be back in five minutes.

He hope that even the Priest can help him about his supernatural encounters.  Who knows maybe the Priest will help him.  He went outside, and silently walked to the church building, later knocking on the door. "Come in my child are you trying to get closer the Lord, or are you committed a sin for me to give you forgiveness-Oh it's you." The priest said as he open the door. Nightmare doesn't need to look at him in the eye to know that the priest hate him with every ounce of his being. "I didn't came for either of those things, I just want to tell you that I've been supernatural encounters with ghostly creatures." Nightmare explained. He's wished that he told his brother earlier, but Dream will probably think he's insane. "What kind of ghostly encounters you demon?" The Priest ask with a bitter taste in his beak.  "Ghosts that are telling me that I'm their king or emperor-whatever the case is of their realm." Nightmare explained.

"Which is?" The Priest asked suspiciously.

"The Necro empire-" The Priest put his left-wing on Nightmare's head. "If this creature lied, then may God strike him dead." The Priest commanded to God. Nothing happened. "I guess you were telling the truth after all, and I never thought I will say this to a disgusting demon like you, but I'm afraid that even I can't help you."

"H-how come?" Nightmare started to get worried. "Because I know what the creatures are, but we banned all knowledge of them for this good village safety."

"And why is that? What they will do?" Nightmare pleaded for answers.

"They causes pain to those who has hurt you, and cause greater pain to the  people who had hurt you unintentionally. There's got to be a reason why they're doing this unless..."  The Priest turned to Nightmare. "You haven't sold your soul to the devil have you?"

Nightmare was shocked with disgust. "No, I haven't."

"Are you sure? Because the only way they can come back is if you sold your soul to these devils." The Priest explains. "I swear your holiness I didn't sell anything to the devils." Nightmare pleaded. "LIES!" The Priest voice boomed the building. "AND I BET THAT THE TRUE REASON THAT GOD DIDN'T STRUCK YOU DEAD JUST THAT EVEN HE HAS FORGOTTEN YOUR WRETCHED SOUL!" Nightmare dropped to his knees for he cannot stand the loud noises, one of the biggest reasons he hates going to church. "ARE YOU CRYING BECAUSE ITS TRUE?!" The Priest yelled at him. Nightmare, while trying his best to calm himself down pleaded. "N-No pictures I-I can't stand the booming sounds..."

"EXCUSES!" The Priest yelled. "N-No it's true." Nightmare tries to defend himself with words.

"GUARDS! GUARDS! TAKE THIS HEINOUS BEAST AND PUT HIM INTO THE CELL!" Nightmare heard The holy man yelled. He can feel the guards strong grip as his eyes were closed the entire time.

What has he put himself into?

~~~~~

Morning has arrived as Nightmare open his eyes blinded by the sun's harsh light, and felt a hard cold surface on his lower legs. He quickly regain his focus, and saw he was in the middle of a courtroom. People gathered all around him. Some were smiling, probably to see the torture. He seen one-too many courts to know what's going to happen to him. As he scanned around the room he felt a negative aura and headed straight towards it, seeing Dream crying.

Maybe it was a bad idea at all...

He thought to himself. "Nightmare." A deep voice echoed the room. Nightmare turned to the voice and in the minute he saw the court robes, he knew what this means. And knew there was no chance of him winning.

"So, Nightmare you were always the questionable person in this entire village, and for that we leave you alone," The judge begins his speech.

Lies...

Nightmare thought as he gave the jury a death glare.

"But now our holy man said that you sold your soul to beings that should not be named."

"I'm was telling the truth..." He mutters to himself. 

"What was that you say?"  The judge ask. Nightmare look up.

"Well?" The judge ask getting a little more impatient.

Nightmare sigh figures if he's going to be on trail he might as well try to prove himself to be innocent. "I said I was telling the truth." Nightmare repeated himself. "And why should we believe you." The Priest asked glaring at him, Nightmare didn't need to see the smile to know that the priest was enjoying this. "Should I get someone to defend me while all of you are against me?" Nightmare asked reminding everyone of the rules when it comes to trials. "In trials like this the defendant doesn't need to be defended." The judge explains to him. It wasn't a huge surprise for Nightmare. Which he couldn't care less. He does care that his brother has to be in the court room however and who knows if they've lie to Dream that he can't be defending Nightmare. "Anymore questions you want to ask before we get started Nightmare?" The judge asked to him. Nightmare shook his head. "Then let the trial begin." The judge announce.

"Nightmare you have been accused of selling your soul to they who shall not be named, is that true?" He said. Nightmare kept his head down, not because he was angry he's just uncomfortable of talking to strangers in the eye. "About the accused? Yes. But about the story? No." Nightmare replies. "So why do you have this book our holy man found underneath your shirt?" The judge asked. Nightmare had forgotten about it. "I was going to ask him about the strange book. Because it keeps saying things about the dead and the Moon King, including the value of lives." Nightmare told to court. "And where did you found it?" The judge asked. Nightmare kept quiet knowing they'll destroy one of his safe place if he told them. "ANSWER ME!" The judge voice echo the room. "It appeared out of nowhere." Nightmare partly told the truth. Then, one of the gaurds came up to Nightmare; towering over him as Nightmare was tied down. And with brute strength the guard throw punches and kicks at him. Then as if command, rips Nightmare's shirt partly to expose some already broken ribs, later grabbed one of them and ripped it out of Nightmare's chest. Nightmare screamed in agony, and losing black blood all over the floor. "Black blood..., so you are evil." Nightmare heard the judge over his pain. "I was just born with it, so it doesn't mean anything." Nightmare tries to reason while still in pain. The Judge and the guard both nodded while looking at each other. He had seen this before, and knows it isn't good. The Guard went to the back to come back later with a war hammer, and raise it over his head. Nightmare had to close his eyes to try to imagine he's in a different situation. And he would have succeeded if the hammer wasn't so fast when it hit the right side of his skull. Now half blinded he try to find Dream in the crowd, but couldn't see him. All he could see on his right side is black with a hot yet cold substance over the side of his skull. He tries to reason with himself to where his brother could be, till he heard two bronze doors slammed. "Do I need to go on with your crimes?" The judge asked. Nightmare was in so much pain that he couldn't hear what the judge, or anyone is saying. "Your silence has answered at all." The judge calmly said. "You were accused of kidnapping children, and teach them about witchcraft. Is that true?" Nightmare heard as his pain ease for a bit. "I would never kidnap a child, and I wasn't teaching them about witchcraft I was teaching them about how to read and write; something that you wouldn't dare do." Nightmare answered with disgust. He may known a bit of magic himself, but those are white magic he has been using, not black magic. "We have a church Nightmare," The judge reply. "and that is all what the children need to know." He continued. "Well maybe some kids wanted to know how to read the Bible on their own, and how write their names." Nightmare respond. "But you did kept a little boy, and didn't bring him back till the next day." The judge remind. "I was worried about his mom would do to him after his dad died. And I saw how she treated him after the funeral such as, blaming him over her husband's death when it was clearly not his fault. And later told him that he should replace his father." Nightmare explains. "Am I not allowed to worry about my neighbors' safety? Do I need to tell everyone that our strongest man try to commit rape to a little girl?" Nightmare reasoned with the court. "He would never do it, but you would." Nightmare heard someone, but he ignored it. "I also have met a few children who had heartbreaking stories such as, one little girl who was forced to touch our priest in areas that made her feel uncomfortable, as she could do nothing about it."

"That still doesn't give you the excuse on practicing witchcraft..." The judge reminded. "The so-called witchcraft I practiced wasn't meant to harm people it was meant to heal. And are we forgetting that we also have Wiccans in our village?" He said. "I'm going to ask you another question then," The judge reply. "Is all of this true about what you are saying?"

Nightmare look at floor from the tiredness, and the pain he was in. "Yes. All that I have said is the truth." Nightmare responded. "One last question Nightmare." The judge asked. This was at the point he knows it's hopeless, and does not care about the visions he started seeing about the Village being burned to the ground. Because all he cares now; is if anyone will listen to him. Or at least tries too.

"Are you afraid of God and his heavenly angels?"

Nightmare with all his strength look at the judge with his good eye-socket, and said in the most calm firm voice. "No. I'm not afraid of any supernatural being of extraordinary powers, because I know the real monsters are all of you."

A moment of silence had filled of room.

"You're an absolute liar, Nightmare." The judge reply with a sick, twisted voice. "And now you shall be sentence to death in front of our very eyes by one of God's angels." As a window flies open leading in a creature that is known as a throne. As it hovers in front Nightmare with its blinding light. Nightmare could see a naked man made out of light. Still not scare for his own life for once. He said to the angel. "I'm not afraid of you, or your God." To his, and everyone else's surprise. The throne breaks the Nightmare chains, and cleans up his spilled blood, later giving him back the mysterious book. Nightmare stood up with all the strength he got, and walk out of the church to be hugged by Dream who is sobbing because he didn't do anything to help him. "Brother?..." Nightmare asked in a weak voice.  Now seeing flashes of his memories. "Yes, Moon?" Dream asked crying over his shoulder. "I need to go back to the in-hill.." Nightmare said as he collapsed. Hearing an echoey distance of his brother calling out his name.

~~~~~~~~~

It was dark again with the same old spirit orbs hovering around him. "Let me guess: It's my time to go." Nightmare smile as he look down. He honestly never thought that he'll have to die like that. It's not like he could control fate anyways. "Actually, this isn't your time yet." A orb reply. "So why are all of you around me? Is it something I had to deal with every time I shut my eyes?" Nightmare asked. "No. We came to tell you about the weapon waiting for you in the ruins."

"Ruins?" Nightmare questioned.

"Yes, the ruins. Of the Celestial half-demons."

Nightmare remember the urban legend that's been spread around for 200 years. About the beginnings in the fall that ruins. About how 12 celestial succubi has seduce 12 powerful heroes, and gave up the daughters to their victims as soon as they were born.  And how the heroes had to give them up so an old man who claims to know celestial beings which includes raising them. The old man then raise, and turn them into 12 types of heroes. Hoping that one of them will become his wife. Unfortunately the old man turns into an abuser as the girls grew up, and start falling in love with each other. Well except for one who thinks she's a boy and is the lunar witch. As if his abuse wasn't enough, she was almost forced into a relationship by the sun paladin, who is in love with her. By making everyone else abuse her to the point they killed her only friend an black owl griffin. All so she can become the witch lover. It unfortunately cause her to lash out on everyone, and ran away to be killed by the old man. And just when you think it's over it turns out the old man killed, and trap the others into their own weapons. Now possessed the weapon they used to wield; they now have no choice, but to wait for a new master. So would that mean Nightmare is gonna have the witch as his weapon?

"I'm not using someone as a weapon." Nightmare said.

"Not like that Nightmare. We mean the warlock, even as a spirit possessing his own weapon can create your weapon." They reasoned with him. Nightmare is sort of satisfied they didn't misgender the warlock like everyone else who had heard about the legend. Nightmare sigh and thought about it. If he agrees, then he'll have to go to the ruins to maybe meet a few of the trapped ghosts, and might died before getting the chance to get it. But if he doesn't they'll probably summon the warlock, and turn him into his slave.

Nightmare took a deep breath. "I'll go to the ruins."

"That's what we like to hear." The orbs said as a blinding light flashes.

~~~~~~~~~

Nightmare woke up again. This time he's in a bathtub with Dream right by his side. From the tear stains on Dream's face; he could tell his brother had been crying a lot.

I shouldn't have let him see me like this.

Nightmare thought as he sigh. Causing Dream to wake up. "You're finally awake." He said this time crying with tears of happiness. "How long have I been asleep?" Nightmare asked. Noticing how dirty the room looked. "Four whole days. I had to have that fire ring thing to help me to not let you die." Dream responded expressing his joy and frustration. "Dream?..." Nightmare said calmly. "YES?!" Dream excitedly replied. "That fire ring thing is called a throne, one of God's highest angels." Nightmare replies with a laugh. "BROTHER YOU NEARLY DIED! YOU SHOULDN'T LAUGH!" Dream yelled in a worry tone. "Sorry, I just can't believe that you forgot one of the legends I told you as a bedtime story ." Nightmare calms down.

"Also, Dream?" Nightmare asked. "Yes?" Dream looked up.

"STILL ALIVE!" Nightmare cheered proudly. "STILL ALIVE!" Dream followed. Nightmare then notice the book Dream has in his hands. "So you found it, huh?" Nightmare reminded Dream. Dream nodded. "I can only make out a few of the words, but I wanna ask you you something." Dream replies. "What is it?" Nightmare asked. "That stick with a crescent moon on it, and the guy in the nun outfit holding it. I saw pictures of how he reaps souls like the Grim Reaper, but there's also some pictures where he heals souls. Like this picture with a disturbing fire creature in it." Dream pointed at the image where it shows the so-called Moon king comforting the fire creature in like it a crying child. "Do you think the creature might evil?" Dream asked. His eyes turned to Nightmare. Nightmare vision turns into a flash. This time seeing the flaming creature crying with Nightmare's hand is touching his cheek bone. "I-I just wanted to g-give you justice.." He said with a voice that sounds similar to Dream, but is overlapping with someone else's. And the smell of his breath is like burnt alcohol. Yet, somehow Nightmare felt that he knew why smelt like that. Just as the flash appeared it disappeared revealing a striking similarity between the creature's face, and Dream's face. "Brother, did you have another vision where you are comforting someone?" Dream asked waking Nightmare up from his thoughts. Nightmare nodded while catching his brother staring at his still-healing ribs. "I'm sorry that you had to witness to trial." Nightmare apologize, trying to figure out if Dream was part of the jury, or if he just snuck in without being detected. "It's not your fault, Nightmare. I heard rumors about you being taken as a prisoner, and I just came to see if it's true. And when I saw you getting beat up, and you nearly losing your right eye socket, I ran away because I was too scared." Dream confesses. "Actually it was my fault if I haven't come to the priest; None would happen." Nightmare reminded Dream. "Also I think you should enough tears for a few days. You should go to get some sleep." Nightmare suggested. Dream nodded as he walked back to his own bedroom. Nightmare took a look at the place where one of his ribs that got ripped off was on a table right next to him with a note reading. "Put it back on him as soon as he wakes up." Nightmare guesses it was probably meant for Dream. So he put it back to its original place and wait for the water to heal it.

I survive yet again..

Nightmare thought as he relaxes in the bath. Nightmare looks around to find his journal which had a few scratch and bite marks on it indicating Dream might've tried to read it. Nightmare then chuckled as he opens it with a charm spell, finds a quill and begans writing.

June 26 , 1517

It had been a while since I wrote the last entry, and it was because I try talking to the priest about my visions plus the supernatural encounters, but I ended up getting trialed, and was tortured there. Royal guards beat me up, and they trying to destroy my skull with a Warhammer. And unfortunately my brother, Dream had to see it. They all try to sentence me to death by an throne's hand, but the throne has shown mercy on me. Maybe it's because even God is disgusted by most of the village actions. When I fell unconscious after the trial. The strange beings told me to go to the celestial half-demons ruins where I can get my weapon from the moon warlock. Now thinking about it me in the warlock almost have the same origin story ,but I don't want to end up like him. Or be a vengeful spirit of any kind. Sometimes I believe that we're all heretics, one way or another. Including our holiest men, The Priest and The Judge.

He then put the quill down, and took another shut eye. Without having to worried about death again.

[soul-music-is-life]

I've seen some of your post on the bullshit heartbeat bill in your state and I'm just wondering how you're dealing.

I have stared at this ask for a while, wondering whether or not I wanted to get in depth into this conversation. But I do have a lot to say on the matter. A while back I drafted a blog post that I toyed with sharing, but ultimately held off. Until now.

There’s…a lot to be covered.

First, thank you for sparking me to put this out there. I feel as though it’s important enough to say what I have to say on this. And though this platform is usually used for fandom stuff (I use other platforms for my political stuff), I’m not afraid to get real now and again.

Second, let me state that I have a background in medicine and a family heavily involved and working in politics…so I know how this goes.

I’m going to pre-empt this by saying that I am not going to argue with anyone who is pro-life who reads and disagrees. If you agree, great. If you disagree, there is no point in trying to fight me…because we will never see eye to eye.

This is strictly an argument based on why I’m against politics and religion in medicine. I am not looking for a debate here. There is no debate to be had. If you can’t look at things without religion, or if you can’t understand scientific/medical facts it’s a moot point.

It’s a long one. Saddle up.

Religion vs. Medicine:

Christianity should have no place in medicine (the bible condemns polyester blends, playing with pigskin, gambling, and divorce, but Christians still shop til they drop, support football, play the lottery, and divorce their spouses). Yet we get lawmakers constantly using the bible as a talking point (”Thank God” and “As God intended”) for this argument and ignoring testimony from physicians with degrees in science.

Men (with the exception of those whose sperm fertilized an egg in a consensual act) should have no say in what happens inside of a uterus that does not belong to them (and even then, it should be a discussion between those two people and their doctor, not a government made up of religious zealot white women and white-boys without uteri).

The government should not infringe upon individual rights of medical privacy via HIPAA.

Basically:

If you can not argue without the basis of religion (or you keep using “God” or The Bible as your baseline) or if you are not someone who has a uterus or in the medical profession or a woke dude/lady, you have no fucking say.

If you are a Christian forcing your beliefs upon the population based upon a magical book that has absolutely no proof, you have no fucking say. (see Separation of Church and State).

If you are a politician forcing your agenda upon every person with a uterus based upon something you can absolutely never experience, you have no fucking say.

If you do not have a background in science and you’re basing your opinions upon a movie (”Unplanned”) that is nothing more than political propaganda (and a pro-life “advocate” who saw dollar signs and a means to fame) then you have no fucking say (and yes, I’ve seen the film, which was nothing more than a religious backed, over-dramatized flick poorly representing abortions and relied heavily upon cheap emotional manipulation and inaccurate CGI). As someone who has seen medical procedures…it was exaggerated in the film. It is absolutely not a representation of safe and legal abortions. It also does not address the confidentiality between patient/doctor (See HIPAA and the testimony of physicians in this matter).

The fact of the matter is that people who are informed, intelligent, and know about the subject in depth are against these abortion bans, because they know it’s extreme and infringes upon basic rights. This includes women, our allies, and in some cases…people who are religiouswho stand with the pro-choice movement (I see you all, too, don’t doubt that…this is not a reflection upon men and Christians in general. This is about the extremists).

If you fall into the extreme religious or non-medical community category or you are a politician with no medical training and you’re writing bills and arguing against basic human rights…you can shut the fuck up.

***

For the sake of facts, let’s break it down:

-Sexual education can be informative, and the preventatives used to prevent pregnancy can fail. Condoms break. The pill can fail (and let’s not even get into the horrible side effects that contraceptives have on women. Let’s talk about the fact that there was actually a birth control for men that companies tried to put on the market, but the side effects were too ‘dangerous’. Sure, like high blood pressure and hormonal imbalances are something women look forward to). But yeah, let’s put all the responsibility on the woman.

-Women are raped, and given the trauma that occurs…they should not have to PROVE they were raped in order to receive medical treatment…including abortion. It’s horrific enough as it is, and there is NO wrong way to deal with the trauma. They shouldn’t have an additional stigma to be treated medically.

-Women who tend to make the choice to have an abortion have looked at their options and have made an informed CHOICE (that’s what this is about). And it’s not always at the 6-8 week mark, because hey…there are things such as irregular periods. Cis-men hating on women, let’s talk about women’s reproduction for a minute. Have you ever spent 7 days bleeding out of an orifice of your body? Have you ever shed the lining of an internal organ? Have you ever had blood clots inside of your body that feel like fucking death? Have you ever had your panties soaked in blood? Have you ever gotten stressed and missed a period or had medical issues that caused you to have irregular cycles? No? Okay, so how about the stressors of pregnancy? How about the changes a woman’s body goes through? How about the emotional and physical toll it takes? Truth is, hetero-normal men who are so deep-set in their beliefs will NEVER view women as equal. Reality is…we women areintelligent enough to make our own decisions.

-An embryo at 6-8 weeks is not viable. The so called “heartbeat” is an electrical activity in a group of cells that is at maximum a few inches long. There is no heartbeat, because there IS no heart. It hasn’t formed. There is not a cardiovascular system. It’s a vibration in a cell. It is ONLY active because of the woman. At this point it is NOT a child. I see pro-life/pro-birth people going, “but…but SCIENCE…Life at conception!” without understanding the depth of their actual words. The medical community knows their shit. And people can challenge them all they want with their opinions upon when life is sentient, but the truth is that there is no brain activity this early because IT IS NOT A HUMAN. It is an embryo, which can not exist without the mother’s body. Yet politicians use the term “heartbeat” because they know there are uneducated people out there who will eat it up and back them.

-Abortion is situational, and trying to force a law upon women based upon the preconceived notion that ALL women are using it as a form of birth control is ignorant, ill-informed, and extremely sanctimonious. There are numerous reasons for abortion, and none of them are the government’s fucking business.

Why religion and politics is a slippery slope in medicine:

Using a religious bias in a political war is against everything in the judiciary and legislative branch, and it is a slippery slope that is dangerous to patient care. When we start listening to “Gods” and evangelical people over actual physicians there is a huge problem. Ask yourself this question: if you were dying and a surgery could save your life…would you call a priest to perform the procedure? Or a licensed physician? If you choose a priest, enjoy seeing your version of the afterlife, because you’re going to die.

Abby Johnson (”Unplanned) is not a doctor. She is someone who “found God” and is using that to exploit the situation with her own views as a claim to fame. She ran a Planned Parenthood (in her own words). ONE chapter, which means it’s a FRACTION of the actual unit. She does not have a PHD. Her accusations against physicians are bullshit and is frankly an insult to actual doctors who perform safe medical procedures every day.

Politicians have no knowledge of medical protocols and treatments (and in a lot of cases know an embarrassingly low amount about women’s reproductive organs). And in many cases it is old white men (and religious white women) dictating what a woman can do with her body. If you think that’s okay, you’re part of the problem.

Religious zealots hold fast to beliefs written in a fairytale rather than learn the scientific facts associated with the base of their argument. They can’t grasp the concept that an organism can be created in a petrie dish with a “beating heart”, because of muscle contractions, not because it’s “alive” or “sentient”. They would rather blindly follow a God that may or may not exist rather than listen to educated physicians who know the topic.

Rapid fire question: if an unconscious woman and a frozen embryo were in a burning building and you could only save one of them, which one would you choose? Something that is not aware and is only a potential for life? Or the actual living breathing human?

This shit is not about “saving babies”. Politicians couldn’t give a shit about babies after they are born. It’s about controlling women/trans-folk and telling people what they can do with their body (it’s funny how Republican politicans haven’t outlawed smoking or drinking, because hey…that kills you! “AnD wE aRE PRo-LiFE!”).

Anyone who can’t see that all these abortion laws are just plays for politicians to pursue their own political pursuits is an idiot.

A Note about Georgia’s Abortion Law/Kemp

In my state, there was talks that Kemp was overheard saying that even if he wanted to veto the bill he couldn’t due to “his campaign promises”. Which is absolute bullshit, because given the polls…he knew that a majority of the people in his state are against it. This bill was co-sponsored by three men and three women who are basing it heavily upon religious purposes (if you don’t believe me, look up Ed Setzler, he’s been quoted several times leaning on religious propaganda for this bill). It was then voted through by a bunch of old white men.

Convenient how they threw the one token woman up front (but honestly, fuck her…because she should know better). The fact of the matter is that those who voted on this are a bunch of “good ole boys” with religious principles trying to bypass the fact that there is a separation of church and state. This bill has had numerous polls conducted to the constituents, and while they were divided…the PRO-CHOICE voice won every single poll. Put this up for a vote and I guarantee this would not become a law.

Kemp waited weeks to sign this (unlike the governor of Alabama).

Why?

Because he knew that most of his constituents were against this (given the polls that were conducted), but due to political pressure he couldn’t veto for fear that he’d lose the religious/deeply rooted republican votes. Even Kemp seemed to realize that this is against the moral rights of his citizens. But he doesn’t give a shit. Because as long as his pockets are lined with money and he can ignore his constituents, it’s all gravy for him.

To take this a step further, this asshole is the man who pointed a gun at a kid jokingly in an age where school shootings are rampant, as a joke…for political purposes. Cuz, ya know…violence is funny.

He’s “pro-life” but he shoots things.

This man is sponsored by the National Hunting and Fishing association, who supports killing living breathing things with a heartbeat for sport or “because it tastes good”.

I challenge anyone who is so “pro-heartbeat” to never shoot their guns again to kill something. Because hey, life is so precious to you, right? You value heartbeats so effing much, stop killing living breathing things. Nut up or shut up.

Actually, no, don’t nut up. That’s the reason for unplanned pregnancies in the first place. Just shut up.

…that will never happen. And you want to know why?

Because this is not about life. They don’t give a shit about “life”. This is about power. This is about control.

If you can’t see that an entire gender is being used for political gain then you need to wake the fuck up.

I’ll end this by saying that, yes, there might be some common ground that can be found here. In the people out there fighting every day for their rights. In the allies we have coming out of the woodworks. In the physicians who fought like hell for us in court.

I’m not an unreasonable person. I do believe in sensible laws. These bans are not sensible. They’re a power play. And that’s fucked up. And as much as I’d love to pack up and leave, I don’t have that option. A lot of people don’t (and in fact, I think the “Boycott GA” movement is so fucking stupid, because that doesn’t hurt the people in power. It hurts the PEOPLE).

So if you’re pissed off, remember this at the polls. Know who your reps are. And if they are for this bullshit, vote their asses out.

Flip their fucking seats.

I’m tired, you guys. Let’s get our rights back. Let’s take our state back.

[terrablaze514]

Being Black + R. Kelly, Living With Secrets, and Writing Catatonic Fanfics

Hey everyone.

I'm up extra early, because this is bugging my mind and heart right now. The words might leave if I don't voice (write) it.

In a few hours, I'll be going to church again. Christian, yes. Predominantly Black, you've guessed it. Both of these cancel each other out. Why?

Despite my suspicions growing up, the vast majority of Black people I knew (family, friends, acquaintances, etc.) were still jamming to R. Kelly's music. It makes all the more sense why he's known as, "The Pied Piper", and that's scary as buck if you stop to think about it.

I've never understood why he was permitted to keep making music. Why the buck does Wendy Williams still have an audience? Why did 2Pac and Michael Jackson get destroyed by false allegations (until their sunset), while R. Kelly is still a free man in the music industry with proof of sexual deviance in multiple court cases?

I was 7 when I was molested by a grown woman. I couldn't approach my parents about it, because she became a close friend to my mother, got closer to other notable family friends, and I was already misunderstood at school and church (Grade 2 was a horrible year). My parents were also coming to terms with their breakup, so it didn't help (because what if they had another physical altercation?). Top that with the ongoing belief that men were innately predators...

October 2018, I've had a nightmare of her stalking me while visiting my hometown (the 514) - woke up in a sweat, purchased Black Panther on Google Play Movies, and watched the movie until my eyes shut again... Because mentally, I needed to feel safe. I wanted Wakanda's protection. And I ended up getting it in my dreams (occasionally). M'Baku and The Jabari Tribe are the best!

Back on topic... So, while I'm happy that justice is happening, I'm also disappointed. Deeply disappointed in The Black Community for sweeping this issue under the rug.👏🏾Every.👏🏾 Single.👏🏾Time.👏🏾 I understand firsthand why it's hard to come forward. Allow me to explain (and these are some of the reasons why going to church is a farce in my book).

I've shared with a few Gundam Wing fans (via Discord) that I've sung in three choirs (four if school curriculum counts). To this day, I still jam to my favourite songs and sing as a secret means to calm down when times are too stressful (and if I have no access to a pen and notebook). So why bring this up? Simply put, during my tenure in the third choir, I was spanked and grabbed on the buttocks for holding the door open for an elderly man. [This isn't funny, so if you're laughing, check yourself or leave my blog ASAP]. Not only did this trigger my fear and cripple my confidence as a young adult, but I wasn't able to focus. I've felt scared... Moreso when I've relayed the incident to a few choir members. They've laughed it off, because it sounded funny to them.

It didn't help that this also happened a week after one of my closest friends had died from cancer (and I couldn't make it to his funeral). So being forced to laugh it off, take it with a grain of salt, and keeping it moving wasn't easy. Also, being Black means you don't cry. "Stay strong," is all people would ever say.

I've also been approached and stalked by some strange men, around my age (no older than 27). I'd be waiting at the bus stop so I can commute to work. Strange man shows up, and requests (to the point of begging) that I take the taxi with him. One week later, he begs me to skip work and come over to his place. For what, only God knows. I didn't go, but I've sent text messages to friends. The majority of them found it funny - except one, who also called to check up on me. If it were up to him, he'd drive across town and set the stalker straight.

That was then.

There was a fellow co-worker (cisgender woman) who used to touch, or feel up my inner thighs and buttocks without my consent, and in the presence of customers. How many times have I reported her, yet supervisors promoted her, and would say, "That's her way of giving people props."

What the heck?

Then, by the time I was 25, I've reached my breaking point despite graduating from college and acquiring two careers to call my own. My physical appearance (gaining weight), marital status ("let's find a boyfriend for you on WhatsApp Messenger"), and popularity were the only things that mattered. Damn it all to the grave.

Dating prospects were more like, groomers. And they were all Christian Churchians.💯 I've never given up the V-card, but I've tried to fit in to the point of mental starvation and social exhaustion. In the worst case scenario, I've heard adults (including a parent) poke rape jokes. What's so funny about that?

We sure as hell did not deserve Aaliyah, because the ignorance is real.

I've ended up writing a fanfic project that deals with the music industry, and emphasizes deep comparisons between a good rep team versus an evil rep team, by pulling bits and pieces of experiences by real artists, as well as my "inability to be more transparent/speak up/get out of my shell", and conceptions of what could go wrong if there was no access to a healthy outlet... Combined them into the realities of the characters I'm borrowing. It's still in progress; I'm a perfectionist, yet, the story needs to be told.

There's a second project where two cousins grow up together in the kingdom, get separated after the death of a family member, and the elder cousin searches for his bestie in America. Friendships are formed, but there's also a rampant rape culture against girls in the community where his cousin took residence... Pedophiles will get killed after witnessing the dismissal of reports by police. Go figure.

Writing these types of things, is an outlet. I don't condone abuse, murder, things of that dark nature, but honestly. I grew up in a rape culture. I need a healthy way to deal with (process) that.

Talking about it to people is only safe enough in therapy sessions. Outside of that, get laughed at. Mocked. Told that You deserve it (or did something to deserve it).

I've contemplated suicide last month. Resurfaced memories do more harm than good... And even if I followed through on December 29th (I'm glad I didn't), everything in this post, especially the woman predator who was a babysitter, is the secret I would've taken to my grave. Who could I talk to without feeling unsafe or unwelcome? Without laughing it off in a dismissive manner? Without assuming that I've done something to deserve it, like forgetting to pull on my panties first?

No one.

I've been taught that my big butt, juicy thighs, bust... Yet fat belly, rolls on my back, and somewhat bouncy arms, are something to be ashamed of. From 14 to 23, I used to sport Beyoncé's figure (used to be slimmer)... Yet I still had to feel guilty for embracing that, because if I didn't cover up... If I walked out late... If I didn't keep up with trends... if I didn't turn up for what... If I didn't drop it like it's hot, turn around and bump bump bump, my body too bootylicious for 'em, 'cause if it's worth it lemme work it... And whenever I did these things...

I am guilty.

Now that I'm older, and I don't do these things as often...

I am still guilty.

Because I grew up in a community and a society that hates rapists and pedophiles while making excuses for rapists and pedophiles if I spoke up. If other girls and women spoke up. If boys and men came forward with their true accounts without receiving homophobic comments, or the overused, "You became a real man, congratulations!" Canada's Supreme Court will not keep a sex predator behind bars for more than ten years. That's all the additional proof you need.

The hypocrisy was real, and it still is.

There was an incident where a little girl complained about a church elder touching her... No one believed her.

Later on in my teens, a teenage boy was falsely accused of sexual harassment, and everyone believed the lie (except his closest friends, whom told her to stop following them around).

Another church elder (and a Bible thumper), fondled my breasts out of spite - and my mother blamed me! The next time I've seen that elder, I've set her straight, but who the hell am I for talking? She's still the most respected because she knows every scripture passage, from Genesis to Revelation, and also knows every volume, word for word, from The Spirit of Prophecy. So she has no sin...

THE LIES!

I was nervous shaky the entire time.

So growing up Black, in a church community, as a girl (now a woman) had many catastrophes. I'm not crazy for putting this out there, just keeping it real. I'll be in church in approximately less than three hours from now, and if anyone cracks jokes or makes demeaning comments about R. Kelly's current and former victims, talking about how they're fast, and how they should've come forward... Nah, Hollywood gets away with sexual deviance against minors. A large percentage of them have bought R. Kelly's music, at music stores and on iTunes/Google Play Music. No surprise, huh? As much as I love my church family, I cannot accommodate the ignorance that's gone on for my whole life so far. *Sigh* This has blackened my heart, I just... I am at a loss, not only for R. Kelly's victims, but every child and youth who will be targeted by men and women who cannot be trusted.

I will always support Black Empowerment, Black Lives Matter and Black History... But I have zero tolerance for the enabling of pedophiles and rapists. Even the jokes. It's distasteful.

If you are a supporter/apologist of R. Kelly, Sparkle, Marques Houston, and any other person who'd used/subjected minors to assault and/or grooming, get off my page. And stop pretending to be a huge Aaliyah fan... We've lost her because the adults in her life had failed in exchange for her fame. We also owe Michael Jackson's family an apology for destroying his character and career under false allegations, while R. Kelly was still a free man, preying on girls and grooming boys to become like him... And all the evidence of his crimes were readily available on the archives while I was in Junior High. While we're at it, Kitti Jones and Drea Kelly need to take several seats. They've had every opportunity to approach the police. They've known what R. Kelly did to all those girls and how it's destroyed their youth. They are the poorest examples of how to put sex offenders in their place, just so they can get money now that #MeToo (who never gave a damn about half of your experiences, unless you were penetrated by a man)... Nuh-uh! The lives that were destroyed by rape, molestation, grooming and exploitation matter more than the money anyone might make from a case that should've been dealt with decades ago! My heart is very heavy throughout this post. I know it's Sabbath hours, but I'm currently listening to "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park, because it truly reflects my thoughts and memories, in the wake of #SurvivingRKelly.

Everyone (especially Black people) who put on R. Kelly during weddings and birthday celebrations, I've taken notes. You will not be trusted around my future children (if it's meant to be). I've never healed, yet. The community does not offer a safe space to heal from the damage that's been done. So when I hear about Chester Bennington (Linkin Park -I hope I spelled his name right), AJ and Nick (Backstreet Boys - their parents stood up for their sons), B2K (especially Raz-B), IMx, Sammy, O'Ryan, the victim of Brock Turner, a few victims of Bill Cosby and that actor from 7th Heaven, the young girl who was sexually assaulted and exploited by that loser who was granted a chance to finish up his studies at UofC (University of Calgary), Natasha McKenna who was stripped, dehumanized and tasered in her last moments by eight men, the former victims of Eddie Long who were forcibly silenced, the girl who was raped, hospitalized and raped again in the hospital by her father and brother... This is real ish. I have no more words. Leave my page if you support R. Kelly... Special shoutout to John Legend for keeping it real. Another special shoutout to Terry Crews who spoke up. To the victims of Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey, you also need to get your voices heard, because you also matter. To the victims of Ryan Seacrest, the same also applies. May Corey Haim Rest in Power, because Charlie Sheen is getting his just reward for what he did decades ago. Although I'm glad B2K is reuniting for tour, I've been conflicted with how R. Kelly wrote your popular hits. That wasn't your fault, though. Your former manager (Chris Stokes - another pedophile) had that set up for your grooming - good thing y'all left TUG behind when you did. Other artists and notable faces in the entertainment industry - you don't have to comment, but I beseech you to STOP collaborating with R. Kelly. What he did to those girls is beyond me. If you keep enabling him, you're now guilty for proving that rape is okay.

It is not.💯