#expecting you to let them persecute you and kill you willingly

[that-disabled-princess]

Merlin getting his magic back has affected my disabled heart so profoundly that I must write another meta on magic being a disability parallel.

[fremedon]

Brickclub 2.7.2, “The Convent As Historical Fact,” 2.7.3,  “On What Conditions We Can Respect the Past”

Catching up on the whole of 2.7, “A Parenthesis,” so this will be kind of scattershot:

--Hugo, can you be a little less racist in talking about monasticism worldwide? (No. No, clearly he can’t.)

--Coming right out and spelling out the overwhelming subtext of 2.6: “The Catholic cloister, properly speaking, is entirely filled with the black radiance of death.”

--A long description on nuns’ mortifications of the flesh ends with “Do they live? No. Their nerves have turned to bone, their bones to stone.” Turning to stone is the ruling metaphor for Fantine and Enjolras--the end result of a long series of sacrifices for the sake of the future. The convent is still aligned with the barricade, for all that Hugo is about to tell us why it’s a very, very inferior copy.

--Actually, let me quote the whole passage leading up to that last bit: “Do these women think? No. Do they have any desire? No. Do they love? No. Do they live? No.”

That’s a surprising resonance with the last character I would expect to be associated with convents--Grantaire, whom Enjolras will--incorrectly--dismiss as “incapable of belief, of thought, of will, of life, and of death.” (Hugo grants belief and death to the nuns and love to Grantaire.)

The nuns are turning themselves to stone, but at the end of the process, they’re still disengaged--bystanders to the real work of the book/the barricade.

--The description of the in pace cell at the end of 2.7.2 calls forward, horribly, to the description of the prisons of the Châtelet. And 2.7.3 begins with a continued litany of infringements on freedom and human rights perpetrated by and for monasticism: coerced vocations, immured minds, souls buried alive. For those who do not choose it willingly, imprisonment in a cloister is no different than imprisonment anywhere else. (Hugo will return to that question of choice in the next chapter.)

--And then this next bit, on the persistence of monasteries past their usefulness as an institution, I’m going to quote at length (mashup of Wilbour and FMA):

The obstinacy of antiquated institutions in perpetuating themselves resembles the stubbornness of the rancid perfume which should claim our hair, the pretensions of the spoiled fish which should persist in being eaten, the persecution of the child’s garment which should insist on clothing the man, the tenderness of corpses which should return to embrace the living.

“Ingrates!” says the garment, “I protected you in inclement weather. Why will you have nothing to do with me?” “I have just come from the deep sea,” says the fish. “I have been a rose,” says the perfume. “I have loved you,” says the corpse. “I have civilized you,” says the convent.

To this there is but one reply: “In former days.”

To dream of the infinite prolongation of things dead and the government of mankind by embalming; to restore dilapidated dogmas, regild the shrines, replaster the cloisters, reconsecrate the reliquaries, revamp old superstitions, replenish fading fanaticism, put new handles in worn-out aspergilliums and sabers, reconstitute monasticism; to believe in the salvation of society by the multiplication of parasites; to foist the past upon the present, all this seems strange. There are, however, advocates for such theories as these.

Emphasis mine.

@everyonewasabird has pointed out that “ingrate/ungrateful” are Gillenormand’s favorite terms of abuse for Marius, and the ones that Marius overwhelmingly uses against himself. “Ingrate” is a loaded term in this book; the only two instances of it that seem to have any actual validity are the two where the expected power dynamic is reversed--Fauchelevent calling Valjean an ingrate for forgetting the people he has saved, and Grantaire calling Enjolras an ingrate for...essentially the same reasons, probably, though parsing the layers of meaning in that conversation is a whole nother post.

Here, Hugo’s very clear that it’s not a valid complaint--it’s a term of abuse, and it should be answered by the simple truth: that the things for which one has reason to be grateful--civilization, shelter, love--are over with.

And the first of those shades of the past, whose claims on the present are invalid and abusive, is the clothes of a child who has outgrown them. Like Cosette’s tiny mourning outfit, that Valjean will literally embalm, in a valise sprinkled with camphor, and at which he will prostrate himself like the nun at the post for the rest of his life. 

Just.

This place kills Valjean. He has survived so many living and symbolic deaths before he comes here, but this is the one that actually takes--when he ties his life, not to Cosette the person, but to Cosette’s reliance on him.

[canchewread]

Editor's note: this journal is original content (written by myself, of course) and has not appeared elsewhere online before today. I should also note that because this is both an opinion piece and an informal journal, my level of commitment to providing citations for the disingenuous wasn't particularly high; if you're looking for formally documented evidence that we're currently in the middle of a fascist takeover, I encourage you to check out my academic writing about the subject on ninaillingworth.com instead.

Journal 09/09/2020: Looking the Beast in the Eye

When I originally sat down to pen this journal, my intention was to call it something along the lines of “advice to a young leftist” which is probably in no small part, the reason why it's taken me three days to write this piece. This is because unfortunately I do not have very much good advice for a young leftist today in two-thousand and twenty, or at least much advice that isn't going to sound rather a lot like “quit before what you believe destroys your entire life.”

As I've written (extensively) elsewhere, we're in the middle of a fascist takeover that is more or less succeeding across the entire Pig Empire, and what passes for the liberal (read: capitalist) establishment in our respective nations seem quite content to try and appease the beast by feeding them the entire left and any marginalized group “uppity” enough to demand justice, equality or representation. There is not a lot of upside to being an open leftist right now and understanding what I know about both the history of fascism and the history of reactionary crackdowns in America, it's awful hard for me in good conscience to advise any young person to willingly subject themselves to the tender mercies of an uncaring state and its fascist cutout vigilante groups.

Let's talk a little bit about what that history, including very recent history, can tell us and why what it tells us isn't very good for the American left. Here in particular, we as both a class in American society and a people that believe in a more equal, compassionate and humane way of life, stand at the intersection of state power, class oppression and the homicidal revenge fantasies of a fascist political order that has seized power throughout much of the United States. The fact that this is not understood by our milquetoast Dem Soc allies and the bougie “progressive left” is completely irrelevant; as any Ferguson activist (who is still breathing) can tell you COINTELPRO never ended, performative liberal anti-racism stops well short of opposing police repression, and genteel society will respond to violent reprisals against activists by the reactionary right with either dead silence or some mild clucks of disapproval at best.

Are the liberals aware that when the increasingly fascist American right says “the left” they mean liberals and suburbanite Democrats too? On some level I'm sure they are, but clearly the threat of increased taxation and social programs for the poor terrifies them far more than the possibility fascism will progress to the point that they're next in front of the firing squad – I've been told the liberals of Weimar Germany felt much the same way during Hitler's rise; which merely demonstrates that the liberal capacity for coddling fascism if it's profitable knows few limits. Furthermore the nauseating truth is that many of your misguided and misinformed liberal allies in the working class simply don't understand that the fascist right always seeks to eliminate the militant left first simply because those are the people who're going to fight back when you start loading Muslims, Latinos and lanyard Democrats onto cattle cars.

This historical process of fascism of course intertwines with the American establishment's history of ruthlessly repressing, criminalizing and even murdering the left. As I detailed extensively in a prior essay called “The Inversion Perversion” the state's war against Americans who want a more equal society (in any number of ways) predates the rise of Nazi Germany, the American Civil War and as those who've studied colonial America might argue, even the foundation of the country. Between the mass deportations of anarchists, suppression of left wing literature through the mail, two Red Scares, anticommunism, Hoover's COINTELPRO war against the civil rights movement, the black power movement and the American student left, or all the way up to the Obama Department of Justice's ruthless oppression of the Occupy, Ferguson and North Dakota Pipeline protests, I could easily spend this entire essay demonstrating that when it comes to persecuting, destroying and yes even murdering the left, there is a long and storied history of bipartisan consensus in America – I see no reason or evidence to suggest that has changed much in our modern times.

In other words history, even recent American history, says that this story ends in a jail cell or a shallow grave for some of the folks reading this journal right now and I don't know how to sugarcoat that for anyone, let alone a young person with their whole life (such as it is) ahead of them. The plain, god-awful truth is that the American right wants you dead, and the center-right American liberal establishment simply doesn't care, just as it has never cared, because they also want the left destroyed and fear sharing their ill-gotten wealth more than they fear fascism. Furthermore, this same elite “liberal” establishment is actively engaged in splitting the component parts of the current American uprising up into acceptable and non-acceptable targets; that's why Joe Biden keeps yammering about police funding, anarchists and “looters.” Democrats in particular are doing this even as fascist militia vigilantes are starting to execute antifascists and protesters in the street, might I add.

Did I mention that it's a really bad time to be an open leftist, or even just someone who passionately feels cracker murderpigs shouldn't get away with murder because some fascist gave them a badge? And yet of course therein also lies the rub; just as there is danger in resisting the imposition of a fascist order there is also danger in refusing to resist.

Turning once again to history, we know that the fascist creep isn't going to stop itself until well after it has killed millions of people and destroyed everything about our lives that contains any meaning whatsoever. The reactionary backlash will not stop with silencing, arresting and/or killing teenage anarchists, African Americans protesting against racialized police violence or Portland soccer moms who've had enough fascism for a lifetime. The fascist mindset and method of societal control dictates that there must always been more enemies both within and outside of the state who represent both an abomination that should be destroyed and a threat to everything good and pure in the national character. Right now, the waking dragon of American fascism has cast a laser-like focus on those brave few Americans who are willing to physically resist the transformation of the country from a corrupt Oligarchy to an overt fascist police-state with rigged elections. Once that enemy is crushed and defeated, the beast will turn its eye to others – unions, teachers, and yes even Democratic Party politicians who've always been friendly to the fascist capitalist billionaires running much of the reactionary American right today.

Whether you choose to fight, hide or run, it has become crystal-clear clear to me that we are all headed towards dark days in the very near future and the only variable left to be determined is which segments of the audience reading this will be thrown onto the pyre first. What we know today as “Western Society” is blindly crashing through the kinds of barriers people who desire peace, comfort and security simply don't breech without expecting violence, bloodshed and a whole lot of rain.

Perhaps in light of all this my advice to the young leftist should be to harden oneself for the torrential downpour of violence, repression and yes death that lies ahead, regardless of whether or not you choose to resist the fascist creep. Perhaps the best thing I can offer a young person staring directly into the eye of this beast is the assurance that it is not their fault, that nobody in history has ever asked to be born into the war against fascism and that ultimately the fascists cannot win because fascism is a death cult that will eventually eat itself and has done so every single time before this one. Perhaps all I really have to share with you is the hope that in the darkness and despair that lies ahead of us you will remember my words and know that no matter how much they repress, terrorize and torture us, fantasy cannot be reality, slavery cannot be freedom and life cannot be death.

And that I think is the handle and the comfort I can offer those of you reading this who’re young enough to have a future beyond the fascist order; I have no optimism to sell you but I can make one promise that may help carry you through the bowels of the hell we are all descending into after all. It might not amount to much yet, but I promise you there will always only be four lights; no matter how many of us they murder to try and “prove” otherwise. Do not give these maggots the satisfaction of seeing your fear; know that at least some of you reading this will eventually dance on their graves and take whatever comfort you are able to, in that inevitability.

Never forget - one way, or another, the future is left.

nina illingworth

Independent writer, critic and analyst with a left focus. Please help me fight corporate censorship by sharing my articles with your friends online!

You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog

Updates available on Twitter, Mastodon and Facebook. Podcast at “No Fugazi” on Soundcloud.

Inquiries and requests to speak to the manager @ASNinaWrites

Chat with fellow readers online at Anarcho Nina Writes on Discord!

“It’s ok Willie; swing heil, swing heil…”

[supertvngames]

Double standards- Sasuke: *goes to a clearly evil man for power, tries to kill is so-called "BFF", treats people like shit, scapegoats and said he wants to be judge, jury and executioner. Sasuke stans: BABY!!, PURE BEAN, HE DID NOTHING WRONG! HE WAS RITE!!, WAS OPRESSED11 Hinata: *exists and does none of that* Also stans: SLAVE KWEEN, SIMP, SELFISH, SUICIDAL STALKER BITCH! SHE'S BORRING!!11

Now, now. Let’s say I understand why they would defend Sasuke from beginning up to Pain arc.

Yes, majority times that it was Naruto who start the (non-violent) fight. Yes, Naruto assaulted Sasuke to disguise as him. Yes, made an unnecessary way torn Sasuke’s ego down. There are things that you can’t look pass when defending Sasuke

1.) At the hospital rooftop battle, SASUKE started the fight by challenging Naruto. Not to mention that before Naruto even used the Rasengan, Sasuke used the Fire Ball jutsu to BURN NARUTO ALIVE. Naruto only used the Rasengan to REPEL the Fire Ball, he only use the Rasengan to fight towards Sasuke is because he saw Sasuke using the Chidori, another deadly jutsu he is using.

2.) Sasuke was running away towards a dangerous evil mad man that LITERALLY wants his body, and Naruto told him about it yet Sasuke just goes “whatever”. Not only he is walking towards his own doom, he simply doesn’t care. Just to let you know, he wasn’t running away because of Konoha but rather he wants to kill his evil brother who not only deserves to die but as well needed to be stopped.

3.) Attempting to beat Sasuke HALF-to-death is basically an appropriate response to the guy was about to KILL Naruto. Sasuke attempts kill Naruto two times in one battle, he uses Chidori on Naruto and then soon after, snapping his neck. Just remember, Sasuke challenge Naruto again, not because he’s going to back, but to Sasuke, it’s a perfect opportunity to get the Mangekyou Sharingan. Also, Sasuke took Choji, Neji, Kiba, Akamaru, and Shikamaru’s rescue for granted, they were basically risking their own lives to keep Sasuke alive and away from Orochimaru.

4.) And you know what’s funny? In Shippuden, Sasuke was willingly to spare some stranger ninjas, but he’s perfectly OK with killing the teammates who still wants him away from the evil mad snake man who still wants his body. Sure, they were going force him but even then, retaliate by killing THEM? Wow, you could have just knock them out and run off, Sasuke...

5.) You know after gathering and knowing Team Taka, you’d think that Sasuke would be getting better after helping them and they help him back. ....HAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! After learning about Itachi from Obito without any evidence to back up Obito’s claims other than Sasuke is alive after their battle, Sasuke blindly and arrogantly takes his words for it, because he needed a scapegoat not just on Konoha but his friends who were just as blind as he was about Konoha’s discrimination towards the Uchiha clan and Itachi “sacrifice” himself. Seriously Sasuke was up in his own ass to think Itachi is a “hero” when really Itachi take the lives of other and never gave up anything personal. Sasuke is a hypocrite, an Itachi bootlicker, and a traitor to Team Taka. Sasuke left Suigetsu and Jugo behind for death or to rot in prison, and Jugo has a mental illness and Sasuke promised to be his cage, and was about kill Karin. Remember, Team Taka practically SAVED this ungrateful bastard MULTIPLE TIMES! Back when fighting Killer Bee, and then the Five Kage Summit. And he toss them aside, and for what? To avenge Itachi who killed his parents and clan, and made his live a living Hell, not to mention that Itachi didn’t spare anyone else, not the children and citizens. Plus not to mention Sasuke is willingly to give up his friends and everyone who care for him instead of telling them how corrupted Konoha is yet he hypocritically gets pissy that “they don’t know anything” even though he was in the same stupid shoes as them until OBITO told him. At this point, this is where Sasuke falls completely, Putting his brother on a pedestal and doing shit for him. Huh, Sasuke became the Itachi fandumb...

And they can hate Hinata if they weren’t wrong about her, which they are.

1.) Hinata never comply with the Side Branch slavery, this thing has been going on before she was even born. Plus she’s no longer heir to being the leader of the Hyuga clan, and chances to become Hokage are very low. There is literally nothing Hinata can do. Seriously do people expect a low confident abused neglected child to do anything, or would she even approve of it?

2.) Hinata is anything but a simp, selfish, or suicidal she came to save a comrade. If she’s a simp for that, then you might as well call Shikamaru is attempting to do the same thing, with A BROKEN LEG MIND YOU. Or Hell, in case these guys forgot that Sasuke had done the same thing for Naruto back when they were fighting Haku, so they might want to call him a “simp”, “selfish”, and “suicidal” for going over an obvious bait to protect Naruto which is no different than Hinata doing the same thing to save Naruto from Pain. Both of them are ninjas performing their duty to protect their comrades. Hinata only confess is because Naruto asked like he asked Sasuke why he saved him.

3.) Looking from afar and eavesdropping aren’t stalking. Hinata didn’t pursue or approach Naruto stealthily, she didn’t harass or persecute him with unwanted and obsessive attention, she didn’t  move silently or threateningly, nor did she ever stride in a proud, stiff, or angry manner. Hinata is insecure, shy, and is an abused & neglect victim. Seriously, do people think Hinata would do any of those?

4.) Boring? Hinata has been adopting Naruto’s nindo as her own to help her build her own confidence to walk into danger, overcoming her fears and self-doubts. Helps out Naruto to overcome his own doubts before he fights Neji. Hinata interferes Pain from killing Naruto since no one does (except Shikamaru) especially his own teammate Sakura. Hinata even invented her own signature jutsu Twin Lion Fist. Still, I wish she develop a little more.

Everyone has their own reasons to hate or love a character. However if you only look at one side or even exaggerate to make your favorite character look good while making another look bad. I have to say, that’s just mighty low and a dick move. Look at both sides with an open mind, nevermind one character is your favorite and the other is your hated. 

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[mahvaladara]

Shah Talks - Simblr, George Floyd, Racism and Accountability

Non of you need to know, from a white person, why racism is bad and why reverse racism doesn’t exist and why you need to be held accountable for your actions. We all know that, but it seems some people still think there’s no racism.

Racism is a problem.

Long talk ahead.

Now, racism is not a problem of “late”. Racism has always been a problem. 

Police has been killing black men and women for decades, people have been saying racist remarks for decades, people have had racist behaviours for decades. 

It is not a problem of late, every few weeks someone is being called out on simblr, SIMBLR, a Sims tumblr community, for being racist. And you’d think there’s nothing about sims to do with race, but there is! 

In a game you can literally make purple vampire alien dragons if you have the right mods, a world with no sims of colour is a red flag.

The latest problem in the simblr community was related to racism.

I don’t know both sides of the story, so I will take a neutral stance. But I do agree it is fair for people, for the followers of our stories to see more diversity expressed in them, to see their own ethnicities and groups portrayed respectfully in stories and not just as caricatures or token.

It’s like Tolkien saying there are no black people in his world because it’s a fantasy world. So basically, you created your own world, with talking trees, and you decided it didn’t need black people, just caucasian people of tall, dwarven, normal and hobbit sizes. So four different species of white people, but not black people, or people with different skin colours and ethnicities, just a bunch of different white people who are very tall and can have blond or white hair depending.

So basically racist.

I mean, if it was Avatar and you decided to say my world has no black people and no white people either because it’s a fantasy world where it’s inhabitants are all tall, lanky blue apes and not humans. Cool, makes sense. Not human.

But if you create a world with humans, and don’t give humans any different skin colours (as if the sun and tans and melanin and evolution don’t make part of humans) because it’s a fantasy world? I’m sorry, but it’s not because magic means the sun doesn’t hate us, it’s because you’re a racist who doesn’t like black people so don’t want them represented in your media or world.

The person of colour does not have the duty to educate them about it, but I think it should stand as a way for the person that was called out to look well at what they have done and how to fix it. 

Give them a chance to better themselves. But if they don’t improve, call them out. Don’t let it go!

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

And for the person called out? It is a chance to grow, instead of running away.

Because you know what? I was a teen once, and I was young and ignorant once, and we grow, we learn and we evolve. It is up to you to know if you wish to grow or remain in the dark ages.

This just to show, racism is transversal to every topic, every community and every platform. And it’s not an issue of late.

What’s really happening is that people, namely white racist assholes, don’t like how vocal people have become towards racism and towards stopping it. And it’s letting some people (racists) very uncomfortable.

And that is good! We should not stand for racism. We should not let people get away with racism. And people should be very vocal about it. We should make them very uncomfortable!

It’s 2020, nothing justifies four types of jokes: racist jokes, homophobic jokes, sexists joke and rape jokes.

(If we’re lucky and Covid teaches us anything to mankind, by 4040 we can also outlaw blond jokes).

On twitter, facebook, reddit and even here, on tumblr I have been following actively the news. I am a supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement, so I have been watching what happened to George Floyd and the riots and this terrible, terrible tragedy. It has actually crossed international waters.

Not kidding.

Like today at work, this french kid who practices Taekwondo with me shared the “I can’t breath” poem and I am like: Oh my dragons! Make this shit be heard! Yes! Cross sea boundaries. Black lives matter!!" And of course, there was that white dick commenting on it, being a racist asshole.

(I have actually learned something from tumblr. I don’t block anyone on tumblr, I like to give them a chance here to redeem themselves, but I have certainly started blocking people on Facebook. So many racists, everywhere... So many idiots...)

And today the internet has brought something very dangerous for racists.

And that is ACCOUNTABILITY!

You no longer can be a closet racist, or just racist with your friends, or a joke racist. Basically RACIST, because people will find out and call you out. It’s not cool to do racist jokes anymore.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

(Reminds me when Borat came out and those two kids who made sexist remarks on film without knowing got a fine. I hope they learnt from this experience, grew up and are now better people - they probably didn’t, they’re probably still sexist dicks).

Nowadays if you’re racist online expect to be fucking crucified.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

Now they no longer can be racist pricks because the world won’t find it as funny as their racist prick friends do. 

Boohoo.

White girl tears.

(I never got this term. My tears are usually of pure unfiltered rage, pretty sure you can light them up on fire).

Now, on simblr I have tried to stay out of “drama”, as people sometimes like to call it, but a man’s death, an innocent’s man’s murder is not drama you stay out of! The abuse of authority that causes the suffocation and murder of a man is not something you should choose to stay out off.

I let my privilege speak for me. 

I am caucasian. Fate decided I should be white (tan easily and get vitiligo. Because fuck you, you get localized sunburns for the rest of your life). And as a white and furthermore european person I will never experience racism. I will experience other things, such as sexism, queerphobia or ableism, BUT racism is something I will never experience.

Because of this I have the privilige to chose not to comment on it. But this is what is wrong, choosing not to comment on an issue just because it doesn’t affect you is a problem!

By being quiet you are being compliant and an accomplice of problem displayed. It’s like if you just saw someone be bullied and you decided to be quiet instead of warning the teachers!

You just helped that bully ruin another kid’s day!

The same way, if you stay quiet, just allowed a murderer to get away with killing another black man.

Because truth is, this affects us all. 

This affects PEOPLE! This is what humanity is! People, white’s, blacks, reds, yellows, greens, grays, pinks, blues and purples, bieges and browns. But Caucasians are safe, everyone else is in danger, with black people being the ones more affected by this!

The great problem is this, racists, white people, somehow have divided humanity in two. Whites, and People of colour.

(I’m not even going to throw religion into the mix because Akatosh knows that’s one can of worms not even Namira will willingly open!)

It may be the result of decades of racial societal segregation and even continental division that has lead us all to think in an “us-them” mentality, but it is time to stop this. 

This is dangerous, for we should not stand idly while people are being abused, opressed, persecuted, having their rights stripped or their lives violated just because some trigger happy asshole thinks he deserves to be alive more because he gets to look like a lobster if he tans too long.

(Racism is white people being jealous at the fact the sun hates us *shrugs*. Just saying.)

And the anger white people, racists, feel when called out is ebcause they don’t want to be held accountable for being dicks to “the others”. 

“But he is great man. It’s just black people he doesn’t like.”

If you’re shity to people just because they have more melanin than you, you’re not “a great man”, you’re a racist prick.

White people, RACISTS, hate being held accountable for being racists, they hate being called out by the outrage of people rightfully have against them. 

And what does a racist do when he’s held accountable for his behaviour? 

Cue in:

“Well” Reverse Racism exists too!”

No. It doesn’t!

Let’s talk about George Floyd.

Now, I’m not going to speak on the why and how it happened. There are literally videos on it. 

But, as someone who practices martial arts, who is trained by a cop I have been thinking. 

If you are a person and you have the strength to immobilize an adult man and hold him crushed by the neck with your knee under you, you clearly have the strength necessary to easily handcuff and throw this same man in the back of police car without the need to FLAT OUT MURDER HIM. Because this is what happened, MURDER. 

A police officer killed a man just because. 

Homicide!

Now, I am not going to talk about the allegations or the accusations that lead to this event, because they don’t matter. They don’t change the fact that a police officer, a man whose duty is to protect the public and uphold the law, killed by choking, an already handcuffed and immobilized unarmed man, to death. 

Now, in the comments on the whole tragedy, there were comments about him resisting arrest officer fearing for his life. Now, I am sorry, but if you’re that strong, strong enough to hold an adult man crushed and struggling under you, your life? It’s not in danger!

Even if he resisted arrest, again, they immobilized him, handcuffed him, from there on, the police officer’s actions are unjustified. It is disgusting what the officer did. Murder happened on that day.

My Taekwondo master, a police officer, is a skinny man, and slightly taller than me. Which isn’t much because I’m like probably 5′4 in the USA metric system. The man’s a hobbit, and I have seen that hobbit of a man throw and immobilize a man twice his size and weight like he was a ragdoll in seconds!

So don’t tell me that cop had to do that, because that is bullshit. 

George was not carrying weapons, he was not resisting. All he wanted was to breath and live and he wasn’t allowed either. George was murdered.

That cop was neither alone or in danger. That cop acted on whatever delusions of power and justified racism and killed a man just because he could and he knew there wouldn’t be any accountability.

Normaly. But we have the internet. And the internet tell us it’s not the first time this cop abuses his authority.

But!

Because there’s always a butt.

Somewhere along the line appears the comment: “You white people are the ones that are dangerous to us.”

Wait, that’s not the but. That’s actually true.

I think that if that white Karen in that NY park taught us anything is that that comment is 100% true. White people hold the power to harm people of colour with just a phone call. And that is very dangerous and very scary for any black man or woman, to any person of colour, to anyone who doesn’t appear “white”. 

Because this again takes us to that divide, where these people, these heartless racist assholes see “The White (TM)” and “The Others(TM)” as two different things. "The White” don’t see “the others” as people, so they don’t see the harm in their actions and they don’t think they should be held accountable because they’re not really harming “people”, in their twisted mindset. So when you yell “you’re racist” you’re suddenly calling out their behaviour and holding them accountable for it and telling them “this isn’t okay!”.

Now, comment section. Facebook comment, section, twitter comment threads are where the gold is. There is where you find the people to block. Where you find the racists, the ignoramous and the idiots. And, as a therapist, I love reading them.

And there it was. The ugly can of worms, thrown straight as an answer to the above comment. The dreaded monster - “Reverse racism”.

“*annoying Karen voice* You can't say that! That’s reverse racism.” Followed by the obvious slew of not all white people are like that.

And you’re right, not all white people want to harm black people or people of any other ethnicity. But that doesn’t change the fact that they are dangerous still because they will always have the racial upperhand. 

But saying “all white people are evil” is not reverse racism. It is discrimination, though that sounds more like a joke, but definitely not racism. If there’s two black men walking down the street and they step to the other side upon seeing my white ass, they are not racist, they may be discriminative by thinking I may pose a danger to them, but they certainly aren’t “reverse racists”.

If a white person, a person in a position of power, a person from a specific ethnic group known for oppressing other ethnicities, were to say “Black people are good only for basketball”, that’d be racist. 

If a black person was to say “All white people want slaves”, it would be prejudice.

Racism is discrimination or prejudices based on beliefs imposed, unwillingly, in minority groups of another race by the oppressing or majority race. All prejudices have been imposed, mocked, caricatured and created by white people and placed on people of colour and other ethnicities. Every single racial prejudice was created by a white person. “Latinos are drug lords, blacks are thugs, asians are cheap, jews are greedy.” And so on, so on, so on.

Prejudices in white people however, are born from cultural differences and NOT race, and are usually created by other white people. These prejudices have no weight, whatsoever in the wellbeing or opportunities white people have access to, while racist prejudices actively hinder the life of people colour and put them in danger.

Portuguese people who are caucasian have this cultural prejudice that we are always late, but if I go to a job offer at no point will this cultural prejudice hinder my chances to get a job.

It is this main difference that makes it so clear, there’s no reverse racism! There is discrimination, but not racism. 

Second thing is that most prejudices associated to white people can literally be applied to anyone, while racist ones instantly connect to one specific minority group.

Thirdly, often reasons of discrimination towards white people result of previous experiences, needs for self-preservation, or equalitarian policies of opportunities given to minorities harmed by racism.

One common complaint white people have against black people are towards scholarships given only to specific communities and minority groups, very common in USA. Though these scholarships can be considered discriminative in a positive way because it helps people less fortunate to have opportunities, they are not racist. For a matter of fact, these policies often exist to try and fix what racism and segregation have caused.

This doesn’t make it racist because it does not, in any way affect the ability for a white person to reach the exact same opportunities.

Again, it is only racist when a prejudice associated with your race affects your safety, your access to opportunities, the way people treat you or see you.

So it can’t be reverse racism because discrimination towards white people usually affects other people too and it’s rarely ever caused by their race alone.

And this can of worms is a long one.

And I have so much more to say, but this has gotten so long and way out of control I think I’ll end it here.

Bottom line.

Stop being a racist dick.

Be vocal when someone is acting wrong.

And Reverse Racism is bullshit.

Also sign the petitions to bring justice to George Floyd. This man has died, brutally murdered by an officer, no amount of justice will ever fix this, but making sure the officers that allowed this to happen will never have the power to do it to another black man, woman, person again should be the first step of bringing justice to his family.

And if I said anything here that was wrong or inaccurate, don’t hesitate to let me know.

This was Shah,

Stay safe, be vocal and don’t let wrongdoings slide away.

I’m done here.

[bulgariansumo]

Taken from this

How did you choose your name?

I didn’t. Oddly enough, my birth name was given to me because it was supposedly androgynous, so that works. I used to wish I had a more ‘normal’ name, but now I’m pretty indifferent to it.

What gives you the most dysphoria? (Acknowledging that not all trans people experience dysphoria)

I don’t experience physical dysphoria. I don’t know if I experience social dysphoria, but if so, it’s not too intense.

Do you have more physical dysphoria or more social dysphoria?

Social, if I have it. I don’t like being called certain pronouns, but I’m kind of resigned to it. Only on the internet would it really get to me, but thankfully I’ve never had that happen after coming out.

What do you do to perform self-care when you’re feeling dysphoric?

I don’t need self-care when I have loving and accepting friends!

What was the first time you suspected you were transgender? 

It was kind of hard. In my preteens, I would think to myself that I didn’t want to be my assigned gender, but I didn’t quite want to be the other binary gender either. I kind of resigned myself to being my assigned gender until finding out nonbinary genders were a thing.

When did you realize you were transgender?

5-6 years ago?

What is your favorite part of being transgender?

I feel like there’s a certain freedom to it. When you grow up, you’re fed a lot of messages about gender (boys don’t cry, girls are more nurturing), and I never really liked when people tried to justify my personality with stuff like that. Now that I know I’m not cis, I can ignore it.

How would you explain your gender identity to others?

My gender = No

How did you come out? If you didn’t come out, why do you stay in the closet? Or what happened when you were outed?

It’s much easier for me to stay in the closet.

What have your experiences with packing or wearing breast forms been?

None.

What are your experiences with binding or tucking?

None.

Do you pass?

Technically yes, since having no gender means (ideally) having no gender expectations. I’d like to look androgynous, but I can’t do that socially without tipping people off, and physically, with my body type, it would be a challenge anyway.

What (if any) steps do you want to take to medically transition?

Maybe hormones? But that’s hard to do while staying closeted. I don’t necessarily need them for myself.

How long have you been out?

5-6 years online

What labels have you used before you’ve settled on your current set?

None other than my assigned gender

Have you ever experienced transphobia?

Not directly, but I did have the misfortune of hearing the Apache helicopter joke irl

What do you do when you have to go to the bathroom in public?

Public bathrooms are a den of filth. I would never step foot in one willingly unless it was an emergency.

How does your family feel about your trans identity?

I don’t know, but given how they talk about trans people, I don’t want to

Would you ever go stealth, and if you are stealth, why do you choose to be stealth?

I literally can’t; that is not a luxury I have. There’s not really a way to be ‘stealth’ when you’re nonbinary. You either have to tell people upfront or let them assume what gender you are.

What do you wish you could have shared with your younger self about being trans?

I probably would’ve told myself what a transmed was so that didn’t affect my entire stance on whether or not I’m trans. But I also would tell myself that being nonbinary doesn��t necessarily mean I have to ID as trans either.

Why do you use the pronouns you use?

I like them! And they too!

Do your neurodivergencies affect your gender?

I don’t know if I’m neurodivergent or not.

What’s your biggest trans-related fear?

Being outed to my family. That would not be ideal.

What medical, social, or personal steps have you already taken to start your transition?

I came out online.

What do you wish cis people understood?

Respecting trans and other non-cis people isn’t impossible. I’ve met a decent amount of cis people who are really cool about it, and I appreciate them a lot.

The sanctity of the English language is not and never will be a hill to die on. Using singular they/them will not kill anyone.

What impact has being trans affected your life?

Things make a lot more sense now! I’m really glad I found out I’m nonbinary.

What do you do to validate yourself?

Write! Creating the representation I want to see, and seeing other people enjoy it, is really helpful!

How do you feel about trans representation in media?

It’s improving, but could be better.

Who is your favorite trans celebrity?

I don’t really know all that much about trans celebrities. I think there’s like 5 I can name total? Asia Kate Dillon interested me in particular, because before hearing about them, I never knew there was a nonbinary character on US television that wasn’t a robot or an alien, let alone a celebrity that publicly identified as nonbinary, and got to play said character! It’s really cool, and I really appreciate them for being out there.

Who is the transgender person who has influenced you the most?

@rontufox. He was the first person I ever knew to mention the word ‘genderqueer’ and was the guy that reblogged the post that made me realize my identity. Great dude, great friend, really understanding and an inspiration for how to treat other people in general! I love you, bro!

How are you involved with the trans community, IRL or online?

Other than having trans friends and reblogging an occassional post… not much. I have little idea what the nonbinary community is like, what problems they have or face. Does an organized nonbinary community even exist? I’ve seen and heard a lot more discussion about and by trans men and women, but can’t really say I ‘know’ their communities, because I’m not either of those identities.

How do you see yourself identifying and presenting in 5 years?

The same.

What trans issue are you most passionate about?

Representation in media. There’s a lot of trans stories to tell, but not many are being told, and the ones that are are often by cis people which creates… issues, to say the least.

What advice would you give to other trans people, or what message would you like to share with them?

No one is immune to misogyny. Please examine how you treat/behave toward women. On the other hand, ragging on men just for the sake of ragging on men doesn’t really do any good for anyone and can easily reinforce harmful beliefs. People who choose to belittle or ignore the struggles of specific men (cis LGB+ men, trans men, men of color, etc.) are especially suspicious when it comes to this.

NEVER INTERACT WITH TERFs. Period. They are not a joke. Transphobes in general are bad of course, but TERFs are especially manipulative. They can and will turn someone completely inside out in order to get someone to believe their ideology and have a lot of sneaky tactics to get otherwise anti-TERF people to agree with them. No matter how secure you think you are in your identity, it’s not worth it. The same goes for transmeds. I don’t know the full extent of their tactics, but based on personal experience, they’re pretty damaging too.

How do you feel your gender interacts with your race, disability, class, weight, etc. from the perspective of intersectionality?

I’d much rather be read as a guy online than in real life.

What, if any, is the difference between your gender identity and your gender expression?

I don’t really get to ‘express’ my gender irl. I’d like to have more ‘plain’ clothes that aren’t obviously tailored for one gender. Online, my gender expression is... just being me! I used to put a little more thought into trying to come off as completely androgynous, but what’s the point of being nonbinary if I can’t be myself?

Do you feel more masculine, feminine, or neither?

Neither

What is your sexual and romantic orientation, and what are your thoughts on it?

I’m ace and aro. I feel like it’s made a lot easier for me to be my identity than if I were attracted to people. I don’t often see unaligned nonbinary people in discussions of attraction, but then again, I rarely see nonbinary discussions at all. It’s already hard enough for binary trans and aligned nonbinary people to get taken seriously as their in a relationship or in other parts of the LGBT+ community.

There’s people who don’t believe nonbinary people exist or should be a part of the LGBT+ community, and then there are others who don’t believe asexual or aromantic people should be a part of the community either. But there are many more cis+heterosexual+heteromantic people, who would not accept nonbinary, ace, aro people at all. It’s hard to interact with the LGBT+ community beyond support if you have to second-guess whether you belong at all. But, the more I learn about other people’s experiences in the online LGBT+ community, the more I learn that no group feels completely safe, and all of them are either being persecuted or ignored by each other. I don’t really know what to say other than it’s really sad.

Is your ideal partner also trans, or do you not have a preference?

I have no ideal partner.

How did/do you manage waiting to transition?

I came out online. That’s it to me. It was pretty easy for me in particular because there were very few people who I told my assigned gender beforehand.

What is the place (blog, website, forum, IRL space) you get most of your info on being trans or on trans related things?

Tumblr. 

Do you interact with other trans people IRL?

I don’t know if I’ve ever met a trans person IRL

Are you involved in any trans-related activism?

Not really.

Free space! Answer any question you want, or make up your own question to answer.

Thanks, I might make a few!

What do you hope for in the future?

Trans rights!  Safer discussions of LGBT+ topics in public!

What are you thankful for?

My amazing friends for supporting me! I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, and I’m thankful for the people who are there for me!

What do you wish to achieve?

I wish to be able to understand and respect other parts of the LGBT+ community better. I know I won’t be able to understand other groups 100%, but I like learning! And more than anything, I don’t want to make it any harder than it already is to be LGBT+ online. I want to help my friends!!

Why didn’t you write “as a trans person” after those last three questions, when that’s what you meant? 

I’m not sure if I see myself as trans to begin with. I’ve only heard one other person share this sentiment with me, but I feel like being trans is a little more involved what I am, and I don’t feel comfortable co-opting on that experience (even though...taking this questionnaire meant for trans people… might be doing just that.) I do want to clarify that I’m not saying that nonbinary people who share my experiences CAN’T be trans. I’m just saying that I’m not sure if I see myself personally as trans. I’m not cis though. That I know for sure.

Did you like taking this questionnaire?

Heck yeah! Nice job, OP!

What’s a way you can end this on a happy note?

I know a lot of these answers have been downers, but I think if people pull together, a better future is possible for all of us. I’m thankful for where I am in life now, and I want other people to get to a similar spot in life, if not better! Also, let me know if I stepped out of line in any of these answers so I can edit them!

[mrlnsfrt]

Defeat and Dishonor, a Cautionary Tale

Thus the first king of Israel perished, with the guilt of self-murder upon his soul. His life had been a failure, and he went down in dishonor and despair, because he had set up his own perverse will against the will of God. - Patriarchs and Prophets p682

The King Who Had Everything

At the beginning of his reign, Saul had everything. He was tall, he was handsome (1 Samuel 9:1-2), he was filled with the Spirit of God (1 Samuel 10:10). Saul had achieved military victories by God’s power (1 Samuel 11:6-11). (For more on these stories check out Tall, Handsome, and Clueless, Making a King, and You Shall Have Help)

How can someone who started so well end so terribly?

Saul’s Journey: a downward spiral

As mentioned above Saul started off with everything he needed to be a successful king. God had chosen him, he had the support of Samuel the prophet, he had experienced military success by God’s hand. Sadly Saul’s success is short-lived in light of his career as a king.

Saul’s Unlawful Sacrifice

This event is recorded in 1 Samuel 13 and I have a blog post on it entitled “Obedience During Emergencies.” Saul had been told to wait for Samuel who would offer a sacrifice. However, Samuel took longer than Saul had expected and Saul’s men began to leave. In an attempt to keep his troops from leaving Saul offered the sacrifice, and just as he finished Samuel appeared.

Noticing what had just taken place Samuel spoke to Saul saying:

And Samuel said to Saul, “You have done foolishly. You have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God, which He commanded you. For now the Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever. - 1 Samuel 13:13 NKJV

Here we see clearly that God was willing to establish Saul as king. But when Saul should have trusted in God and obeyed he failed. Saul failed because he sought to keep his men from leaving by using religious rites for personal influence and power. Instead of trusting in God to provide him with his military victories, as God has done previously, Saul sought to raise and keep an army by his own strength. In his desperate attempt to keep the men from leaving, he disobeyed God.

When it looks like faithfulness to God will cost you the support of those around you, do you trust in God to provide for you, or do you turn from God in an attempt to secure the support of people?

All Saul had to do was wait for Samuel. At first glance, just waiting is super easy, barely an inconvenience. But upon closer inspection, waiting is incredibly difficult and takes strong faith, especially when you are surrounded by enemies and losing the support of your peers.

However, all was not lost, Saul could still repent, turn to God and seek His mercy. After all, we serve a merciful God. I believe it was Saul’s pride that kept him from receiving the forgiveness that was available to him.

Saul’s son, Jonathan ends up being the one to lead the attack on the Philistines, and God uses him in a mighty way. For more on this story read my post “A Mighty Minority.”

Saul eventually joins in the fight, but he once again misuses and even abuses religion in an attempt of gaining more power for himself. I have a post on this entitled “Abuse and Misuse of Religion”

Saul Rejected as King

Saul does not understand that the religious rites were established in order to help him connect with God. We see no sincere desire on Saul’s part to connect with God, only to manipulate the people for personal gain. Saul only wants to seem religious and pious, while demonstrating no humility before God, no repentance, no true desire to seek and live out God’s will for his life.

In 1 Samuel 15 we read about how Saul spared King Agag and the best of the sheep and oxen which they should have utterly destroyed. (For an in-depth study of God’s command to utterly destroy see my post on God’s Command to Utterly Destroy) Once again Saul behave in a way that not only was contrary to God’s command but one that he hoped would benefit him personally. Allowing his soldiers to keep the best of the spoils made him popular and perhaps would cause more men to want to fight for him. In parading king Agag as a prisoner he could enjoy the glory and honor of having a feared and terrible enemy as his slave.

Saul had not disobeyed because the task was too difficult. He chose to let the king and the best of the animals live. Also, King Saul had not disobeyed because he had compassion for the king or the animals, rather, it was because he hoped to gain more power, support, and influence by doing so.

This is what Samuel had to say to Saul on that occasion:

16 Then Samuel said to Saul, “Be quiet! And I will tell you what the Lord said to me last night.”

And he said to him, “Speak on.”

17 So Samuel said, “When you were little in your own eyes, were you not head of the tribes of Israel? And did not the Lord anoint you king over Israel? 18 Now the Lord sent you on a mission, and said, ‘Go, and utterly destroy the sinners, the Amalekites, and fight against them until they are consumed.’ 19 Why then did you not obey the voice of the Lord? Why did you swoop down on the spoil, and do evil in the sight of the Lord?” […]

22 So Samuel said:

“Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, As in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams. 23 For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, And stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, He also has rejected you from being king.” - 1 Samuel 15:16-19, 22-23 NKJV

There is more to this story and I have a post on it entitled “Mostly Obedient.”

From this point forward things continue to deteriorate for Saul. David is anointed king, but this is done privately while he is still young (for more on that check out my post “Heart Matter”). But David no only defeats Goliath but also achieves success in all he does (for more on this check out my posts David vs Goliath, The Battle Belongs to the LORD, Behaving Wisely). As it becomes more and more evident that God has left Saul and is now with David, Saul begins to persecute David (check out Persecuted).

What if?

It is not wise to wander into the land of “what if” but I would like to simply ponder one possibility.

What if Saul had humbled himself and accepted that David would be the next king?

The main reason I mention this is because Jonathan, Saul’s oldest son, the crown prince, was best friends with David (Best Friends Forever). If anything, Jonathan is the one who has the most to lose here. David shows no intention of attacking Saul, it seems like the dispute would be fought between David and Jonathan. Yet Jonathan saw David as an ally, a friend. Would it not have been a beautiful thing to develop both David and Jonathan to be great rulers, friends, and not enemies, both seeking God’s will. Both willing to submit to the will of God, Jonathan willingly following David’s leadership.

We have a tendency of looking at life as one winning and another losing, but many times both can be more successful by working together. I have enjoyed leading, but I have also enjoyed working under a leader I respect. If I am convinced that God is using someone, I have no difficulties submitting to that person’s leadership, since it is also my desire to follow the will of God.

For Saul, I wish he had realized that there is wisdom in developing the next generation of leaders, of submitting to God’s will and trusting that God knows what is best. I believe that if Saul had humbled himself and helped develop David into a great king, Israel would have prospered and he would have had a better life, and especially the end of his life would have been more pleasant.

Saul’s Tragic End

Sadly Saul pushed away his best military leader, David, and now was left to fight a combined Philistine Army. The story now picks up probably a few days after the events described in 1 Samuel 28. Saul had just received a major blow by spirit conjured by a medium in EnDor (check out Talking to the Dead?). Saul is about to go into war believing that he will lose. By seeking counsel through a source repeatedly condemned by God, Saul had exposed himself to demonic influences and messages.

I believe that nothing gives the enemy greater joy than to tell people that God has rejected them, that they have gone too far, and that they will die for their sins. If you ever hear that voice in your heart or mind, please recognize its origin. Such messages do not come from God. Yes, there is destruction awaiting those who reject God, but God’s message is one of unconditional love and a call to repentance.

The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not willing for any to perish, but for all to come to repentance. - 2 Peter 3:9 NASB

Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked,” declares the Lord GOD, “rather than that he would turn from his ways and live? - Ezekiel 18:23 NASB

So how did the fighting go?

We have now arrived at the last chapter of 1 Samuel, and it gives us a brief description of this battle.

Now the Philistines fought against Israel; and the men of Israel fled from before the Philistines, and fell slain on Mount Gilboa. Then the Philistines followed hard after Saul and his sons. And the Philistines killed Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua, Saul’s sons. The battle became fierce against Saul. The archers hit him, and he was severely wounded by the archers. - 1 Samuel 31:1-3 NKJV

While David is fighting and destroying the enemies of Israel and setting captives free and bringing back gifts (for more on this story go to The Messes We Make) the men of Israel are fleeing from before the Philistines. There is not much of a battle described in this chapter. In the first verse, the men of Israel flee, in the second verse, three of Saul’s sons are killed, in the third verse Saul is severely wounded by archers. Sadly, Saul is only now realizing what David as always known, the battle belongs to the LORD.

Then all this assembly shall know that the Lord does not save with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s, and He will give you into our hands.” - 1 Samuel 17:47 NKJV

How important it is for us to learn that nothing in this world is worth turning our backs on our God. It does not matter what you think you will gain by going against the will of God, it is never worth it. It may seem like it at the moment, but it is never the right choice, and that becomes abundantly clear as time goes by.

I wish the story ended here, but sadly it continues and gets even worse.

Then Saul said to his armorbearer, “Draw your sword, and thrust me through with it, lest these uncircumcised men come and thrust me through and abuse me.”

But his armorbearer would not, for he was greatly afraid. Therefore Saul took a sword and fell on it. And when his armorbearer saw that Saul was dead, he also fell on his sword, and died with him. So Saul, his three sons, his armorbearer, and all his men died together that same day. - 1 Samuel 31:4-6 NKJV

Israel’s first king kills himself after being defeated by the enemy, wounded by archers. His armorbearer follows his example.

It is one thing for you to make a mess out of your life. You can think it your life, your choice correct? In many ways this is true, but it is also not true in many ways. I do not believe anyone can afford to be so selfish. Saul was king, his sins affected a whole nation, how many thousands of men died because of Saul’s sin? His armorbearer followed his example and committed suicide! What kind of example are we to those around us? Before we commit a sin, do we weigh its cost and its impact on the lives around us?

How many young men and women have struggled against incredible difficulties because of their father’s poor choices? The sins of the father are visited in their children (Exodus 34:7) to the third and fourth generation. This does not mean that the children are guilty of the sins of their father, but rather that their father’s rebellion will make their lives more difficult. The same holds true for mothers, how many kids suffer because of the sins of their mothers.

Sin causes more suffering and misery than we imagine. It is not just the sins of the parents. How many parents suffer indescribable pain because of the sin of their children? How many suffer because of the sin of their friends, their spouses, their co-workers, neighbors?

It might be easy to point fingers at Saul since he was a king, but I would argue that it is not too different in our lives. When we choose to rebel against the will of God, we are not only inviting more suffering into our lives, we are also causing people all around us more suffering.

I am not saying that you must, by your own strength, live a sinless life from now on. I am saying that every time you choose to sin, it always affects others. And I’ll let you in a little secret, those who love you most will also suffer most. When you sin, you are not only hurting your relationship with God, you are causing those who love you most to suffer. Maybe they are not suffering today, but it’s coming, and it will happen at the worst time possible.

Dear reader, do not play with sin. Your goal in life should be to live a faithful life to God. God will strengthen you. God will forgive you and guide you. God wants to do amazing things in you, for you, and through you. But you have to choose Him at every step. This takes place daily.

Are you where God wants you to be?

Every now and again I’ll see someone post to social media something along the lines of “You are exactly where God wants you to be!”

And I have to wonder about that. Do we tell ourselves these things to quiet our conscience? I believe that God has a plan for you and can use you exactly where you are, and maybe this is what the authors of those quotes mean to say. But many times we are struggling because of the messes we make. It is not that God wants us there, but if that is what it takes for us to turn to Him and be saved, praise God!

Only God can clean the messes we make. We do not have to stubbornly continue on our own trying to fight by our own strength. Saul’s life shows us how that will end. It does not end well. By contrast, David, who also made plenty of mistakes, chose to strengthen himself in the LORD and God gave him the victory and restored all that the enemy had taken away.

What do you choose?

If you stop to think about your life and realize that perhaps you’re not exactly where God wants you to be, how about you take a moment to ask Him for help? Ask God to save you, ask God to give you victory, ask God to cause you to live your life in such a way that gives honor and glory to His name.

You are not reading this post by chance.

Take this opportunity to confess your sins, and ask God for forgiveness. He is always there for you. You can receive His forgiveness today.

Choose God today.

[coeurdastronaute]

Giant: Ch. 17

And if I say hello again let it be for the last time. And if I break my bones again let it be for the last time.

The rhetoric was turned up ridiculously loud. The continued rogue alien attacks grated on the city’s tolerance. Fear prevailed despite the best efforts of the heros. Despite the normal outcry, there were more and more people who sounded an awful lot like the Luthors of old. Jargon slipped in, articles highlighted undercover hate groups. The city and the world were waning.

The law was introduced, the newspapers all weighed in, talking heads jabbered while everyone debated personhood and a portion of the population held their breaths and waited. Everyone, of course, but Lena Luthor.

“I, frankly, find it despicable that anyone would follow in my father and brother’s footsteps with this kind of speech,” she said, matter-of-factly. Calm, cool, collected, she crossed her hands over her lap and nodded as a rebuttal came across her earpiece.

“This isn’t a reversal of my own stance,” she snorted. “I never shared those views. And after the pain that my city felt just a year ago, I do not think it is appropriate to group me with them. I cannot control their actions, but I certainly can’t believe we’ve reached a time in which their words are common. I’m disgusted with the proposed amendment and the new laws in various states. We are a country of immigrants, and we should have open doors for those feeling persecution.”

The cameraman adjusted the lense slightly while the other parts of the production team did their part, reading from tablets, listening on headphones, all from the usual sanctity of a certain CEO’s corner office.

As soon as Kara slipped in, she was overwhelmed with the entirety of the operation. Never before had she seen so many people in Lena’s office, and never before would she have expected to see her girlfriend willingly agreeing to interviews. Even for her to get a sound bite, it took a lot of begging. Sexual begging, sometimes. Often, a nice massage and sweet words. Most of the time though, Kara was afraid to ask because if there was one thing Lena hated more than anything else, it was notoriety.

“I don’t agree, Peter,” Lena continued. Kara watched, amazed once more by the strong, smart woman she got to go home with every night. “How are regulations on innocent citizens legal, or better yet, American?”

While someone answered her rhetorical question, Lena pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. Kara knew what was happening, she’d witnessed it first hand during many a fight. It was time for the Kill. And with the emergence of the Smirk, she knew the interview was finished.

“For as pro-life as you claim to be, it seems a tad hypocritical to want to set up internment camps and regulate humanity in such a way. It seems in our history, that happened, and we were very ashamed of it,” she argued. “My father is wrong. My brother is wrong. When you quote alien attacks on the rise, I hope you also quote the statistics on mass shootings and violent crime, all perpetrated by human men. White, young to middle-aged men, to be specific. The perceived rise coincides with a definitive rise in hate crimes. We aren’t in danger, but these conversations and laws just brew hate which does lead to the lashing out.”

It was pride. Pride filled Kara’s chest as she watched the high school soccer star turned relentless entrepreneur eviscerate a host from across the country. It was pride to feel her girlfriend, in some small way, maybe not publically, but still, very honestly, stick up for her like she once did by inviting her to parties no one would have thought to include her in. The hero was used to standing up to others. She was not used to having someone defend her so heartily.

“It’s easy to make sense when you’re not being a dick,” Lena shrugged, that smile permanently on her lips as she stared at the camera. “No, thank you, Peter.”

“And we’re out,” the producer stood, flicking a few switches.

“Thank goodness,” Lena let out all of the nerve she held in her chest as fuel.

The relief couldn’t be missed when the lights clicked off. Kara was so darn in love with her it was infuriating.

“That was great, Ms. Luthor. Seriously,” someone complimented as they helped her out of the microphone clipped to her collar. “I don’t think they were expecting you to disagree with them.”

“Most don’t,” she smiled politely. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Quietly, Kara leaned against the desk in the back of the hubbub and crossed her arms, smile unable to be hidden even in the slightest. She filed her story early and hadn’t expected to walk into this in Lena’s office, but it was sure a welcomed surprise. She thought maybe lunch or something. Maybe a walk and coffee, as they were both very busy lately, fighting their own battles.

From across the crowd of people, Lena caught Kara’s eye and smiled her smile. Her smile. That smile. The one that was reserved for her. It was the same one she gave Kara when they snuck into the movie to see the double feature. It was the same one that came when Kara slipped into bed in the middle of the night. It was the same one she had at Kara’s company Christmas Party when she gushed about her girlfriend’s stories and couldn’t stop bragging. It was the same smile that came when Lena took Kara to a party in college and held her hand. It never changed; it never waivered.

There was a picture of them that ran for three days, with all kinds of headline about their love, after Lena posted a heartfelt anniversary message. None of them knew anything like what it really felt like to be loved by a wildfire. But still they tried.

That was the shift, the change in their relationship. No longer did they shy away from holding hands, or kissing at events. Instead, they were together, completely, valiantly and in the face of all else.

“Hey, sorry, I thought you were editing today,” Lena finally wove through the crowd that cleaned up their supplies and cords and tapes and machines. “I didn’t get a chance to text you. This kind of popped up.”

“Filed early,” Kara nodded. “I didn’t expect this when I decided we should go have dinner together.”

“You decided, huh?”

Arms slid around her neck and lips kissed her sweetly before pulling away, still not completely comfortable with displays in front of foreign eyes despite her continual attempts to grow accustomed to feeling such things so loudly, for all to see.

“I was going to surprise my cute girlfriend with dinner,” she corrected herself. “To distract us from the state of the world.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough to hear you annihilate some reporter,” Kara shrugged, hands slipping up Lena’s waist.

“I’m just so angry, Kara, and that felt so… good.”

“I bet,” she agreed. “I wish I could be unbiased for even one inch of newspaper.”

“Well, if no one else is going to say the right thing, I guess I hope the words coming from someone with my last name will sway them,” she frowned, acting indifferent, though she was so invested it was painfully obvious above it all. “Maybe Lionel will see it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do things just to antagonize him.” Lena ran her hand along Kara’s forearm, soothing the words that came.

“That’s just a bonus.”

“Lee, I’m serious,” Kara fret, looking around at everyone not paying attention to them. She leaned closer, her worry making her concern show. “If you’re analysis is right… he’s very involved, and I don’t want you to be the target.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“You must have Supergirl on speed dial.”

“You have no idea,” Lena smiled, relieved to not have another fight about putting herself in danger. “Dinner, you said?”

“If you’re done inciting the masses, yes. Dinner.”

“I suppose I can be done until tomorrow.”

“Lee,” Kara pled, much to her girlfriend’s enjoyment.

“You should have ran away with me when you had the chance. Now look at what I have to do just to get a dinner date.”

“Single greatest regret of my life,” the hero sighed. “I’m going to go pester Jess until you’re done in here.”

“Hey, wait,” Lena grabbed at Kara’s hand before she could pull away from the desk completely.

Tugged back, harder than she thought possible, Kara felt herself met with arms slipping around her ribs and a burrowing girlfriend, despite the people left wrapping up and cleaning the production mess. It took a second to acclimate to the feeling, to the hug, to the need for it, but she did, and she did it eagerly.

“You were spectacular up there,” Kara whispered. “I am constantly in awe of you, Lena Luthor.”

“Thanks for stopping to take me to dinner.”

“If you’re going to overthrow the government, you need a full stomach.”

“You’re the best,” Lena mumbled into Kara’s shoulder with a chuckle.

It didn’t help that there were more attacks. That the news carried them on a loop. But Lena went viral, her interview calling a hate-mongerer a dick showing all across the internet and city. It was shown next to her father’s words, versus her brother’s thoughts, but it was there.

Nothing was the same.

Deep in the DEO, Kara sat on a bench and stared at the containment room. The captured alien finally calmed, hands gripping his head from the headache that came from coming down from that drug Alex still couldn’t type.

Arms crossed, the caped-hero thought over everything she could from the past week. Between increased pressure from the government and DEO to monitor her, to growing protests about her existence, to hotly debated morality issues about her imposing her justice, to the alien sitting across from her, locked up in a safe room.

For a moment, she considered if she was next.

She couldn't tell anyone that she was getting tired of it all, that the schedule was wearing on her, that if she could go back, she’d tell that teenager sitting on a water tower to be careful, to run away with a pretty girl with green eyes and never look back. Kara felt a distinct sense of having to keep that secret very deep in her muscles, because to ever admit something like that, to anyone, would mean that she was done being Supergirl.

“You’re quiet,” Alex murmured as she approached, unrecognized to Kara’s deep thoughts. “Lena out of town?”

“A mini vacation with her housecleaner.” Her sister gave her a quizzical look. “It’s… They’re in Dublin visiting family.”

“I didn’t know Lena had any family left.”

“She made her own,” Kara smiled as she stood beside her sister at the cage’s window. “She’s been weird.”

“More letters?”

“Just one. Her father warned her to be careful. Things like that. Every time she gets a letter, she just… I can watch her curl up into herself.”

“She’s tough.”

“Don’t tell her that. It’s a full time job trying to keep her from causing a raucous.”

“We didn’t pick easy women to love,” Alex grinned, nudging her sister. “Probably the world’s most stubborn, actually.”

Kara nodded, believing full-heartedly that her sister was right. There was no way any two women were more stubborn than Maggie and Lena. No possible way, and she’d fight anyone who argued it.

“Did you get the results back?”

“I’m still comparing a few things,” Alex shook her head. “But I think Lena’s right. I think the attacks are linked. I think it is the formula, or close to the one, her brother was working on.”

“And you don’t want to barge into LCorp with a warrant?” her sister scoffed.

“I want to, but I know it wouldn't do any good,” she shrugged. “Lena has anything valuable under lock and key off-site. And she’s helping.”

“She’s different, Alex,” Kara sighed, furrowing at her own thoughts. “Ever since she saw Lex, she just… she believes she can cut ties, and she’s been more happy and more alive than since before her mother died. But this… this thing her father must be doing, injecting this drug into aliens, she can’t escape the guilt.”

“That’s why she’s all over the news, fighting the laws.”

“I’d like to think that’s for me.”

“I’m sure it is,” Alex hurried. “But she’s always been vocal when asked. Now she’s seeking it out.”

“Sometimes it feels like she has a deathwish. Like I’ve always been chasing behind her, waiting to catch her.”

“Could be she’s picked up some unbridled sense of duty and optimism from a hero that throws herself into danger.”

“I’ve been in love with her since I was seventeen, Alex,” Kara shook her head. “And something is going on with her that I can’t help with. But she always finds a way to help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure you help.”

She wanted to fight, to argue it over, but her sister was too supportive. Kara took a deep breath and nodded. Deep down she was worried about ending up in this cage, she was worried about Lena seeing her like this, she was worried about that drug, and what it could do to her, and for a moment, she understood what Lena was terrified of finding.

The cat prowled through the quiet penthouse, hunting the toy hidden by the stools in the kitchen. Carefully, four little paws padded near the couch and peaked over the edge at the warm creature sprawled along it. The toy could wait, when that kind of warmth was available for a nap and rub.

“Hey buddy,” Kara cooed as he kneaded her belly and pushed himself into her palm as she scrolled on her phone. “Busy day today, huh? Sleeping in the sun and eating must be exhausting.”

Outside, the evening settled there. The sky hung around that purple state before finding grey, before finding dark. Curled up, the cat stretched its paws and closed its eyes with a tiny purr as long fingers stroked his stomach.

It clearly wasn’t her fault that she fell asleep as well. How could Kara fight against the warmth on her stomach and the calm in the air. Despite her nerves, she was excited and sleepy and she had to find a balance.

Fresh from a pick up soccer game downtown, Lena dropped her gym bag by the door and grinned at the scene in the living room. She got to come home to her best friend and their new life, and no matter what, that was all she could ever want in the world, she remembered, often forgetting it in the light of day.

With a tiny movement, she tugged off her sweatshirt and climbed over the back of the couch, settling between Kara and the cushions, earning a little grunt as she adjusted to the new body.

“Hey,” Lena whispered, kissing her jaw.

“Hi,” Kara smiled, eyes still shut and dreamy. The cat meowed, indignant at the imposition and having to adjust, though he did.

“Hi, Darwin,” the CEO smiled, rubbing his chin.

“We missed you.”

“You look so cute all the time. It’s annoying. I can’t get anything done,” Lena complained, earning a snort and strong arms sliding around her waist.

Lips found her neck and she smiled against Kara’s cheek. The cat was long forgotten, hopping off as hips and legs met and mingled. The smallest moan came as Kara dug her hands into Lena’s hair, tugging for more neck, pushing her hips a little closer.

Languid and lazy as it was, it was warm and their’s and very quiet.

“I’m all sweaty from the game,” Lena complained, pushing away slightly. “Come shower with me?”

“Are you staying home tonight?” Kara countered.

“I have--”

“Stuff to do at work,” she finished.

“Hey, what’s that about?”

She didn’t want to answer, and so the hero just sighed and dug her shoulders deeper into the couch. It was easier this way. How was she, a person who flung herself into danger at the drop of a hat, supposed to complain when Lena was working so hard? It was impossible, and she felt stupid for thinking it.

“Kara,” Lena sang. “Come on. What it is?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Come on. Out with it.”

That was the final warning before she got annoyed. Kara knew Lena well enough to seriously debate the fight. But she couldn’t help it.

“You’ve always got more work to do,” Kara shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“We went to that party last week.”

“I just mean… I can’t explain it. You’ve got interviews and meetings across the globe and research for the DEO. I know I shouldn’t complain, I just… I don’t even know how to… I can’t be mad. I just… God, I miss you.”

Quiet, Lexa heard her. She pushed herself away and sat up on the couch. Something about being close made her oddly uncomfortable in the moment.

“I don’t want to be away…” she mumbled, furrowing slightly. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like I’m too busy for you.”

“No, no no no, it’s definitely not that.”

“I have to find a cure though, Kara. My brother started this, and my father is provoking… he’s using people. He’s attacking and people are getting killed.”

“But you didn’t do it!” she raised her voice, exasperated by the guilt.

“You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“What having a family… what the guilt and the weight and the burden of having a family feels like.”

If words could have felt like a slap, Kara would have been reeling. She stiffened and her jaw clenched at the mere thought of her family. She pulled away after a stunned moment. There were certain things that just happened, that can’t un-happen.

“I have to fix what they did, Kara,” Lena tried, oblivious. “What if it’s you? I couldn’t… I can distance myself as much as I want, but at the end of the day, if I can do something, don’t I have a duty to try?”

It was Kara that couldn’t handle the closeness. She stood and paced, taking a few steps away. She was certain Lena kept defending herself, making perfectly good sense about all of it. But still, Kara couldn’t bring herself to listen.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have a family,” Kara finally said, her head shaking with the grief of the words.

Lena shut her mouth quickly, snapping it and whatever words were ready back inside. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at her girlfriend. There might have been clenched fists and shaking shoulders, now they just drooped and her body relaxed with the sadness of remembering such facts.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Kara.”

“You said it.”

“I meant that you don’t have a family that is evil.”

“Because I don’t have one.”

“I’m not going to fight with you over semantics,” Lena crossed her arms. “If you don’t want me to go to the office, I won’t.”

Just like that, it was a fight. Kara didn’t want it to be, but it was, because she was frustrated and hurt for no reason. Lena didn’t want it to be, but it was, because she was annoyed and defensive. It was never about the office, and it was never about family. It was about the past few weeks, and how neither felt like they could breathe, but instead of admitting it, both would hold it in their lungs and lash out in tiny ways.

“I want you to want to be with me,” Kara shook her head. “I want you to really want that life that we talked about together and not think you have to fix them.”

“I do! I always do, but I can’t let this happen, Kara. I look at the film, at the news, and I see you. What if they do that to you and I’m not ready?”

“You think you wear this burden alone, but I have to deal with it too!”

“What?”

“You had nothing to do with any of it, and yet you have this compulsion to run after those idiots, cleaning up behind them like a good little Luthor.”

“Oh.”

“And I support you. I know who you are, and I knew all along that you were stronger and smarter and better than them, than what you thought of yourself. But to tell me that I don’t have a family--”

“That was taken out of context!”

“You’re so darn brilliant but so frustrating!”

“Me? I’m the obsessive one?” Lena stood, stomping after Kara through the apartment. “You can’t go a day without putting that suit on! You know me? Well, I know you, and I know that I’m waiting around for a future that is never going to happen! You’ll never hang it up, and I’ve accepted it.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know you. I know your heart!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Yeah, well. Me neither.”

Stuck in the kitchen, in the same spots where years ago, they’d reaquainted themselves, where they fell back together, where the clouds cleared and the waters receded and the world was born anew, they stood, very different and very similar. Both seethed for different reasons. Both were hurt, primarily by themselves and the truth.

“You don’t want me to be Supergirl,” Kara finally muttered.

“You don’t want me to be a Luthor.”

Kara nodded and flexed her neck, tight and sore from the pressure she placed upon herself.

“I think I hear sirens. I should go…”

“Kara,” Lena whispered, softening slightly. She took a step forward though stopped. “Please don’t leave in the middle of this.”

“The middle of what? You have work to get back to,” she shrugged.

“We have to figure this out.”

“Can we?”

It was quiet. There were no sirens, but still, Kara moved toward the balcony, afraid to look at the girl who pretended not to be hurt. It was a fight about nothing that spiralled into one they’d put off for weeks. Lena deeply regretted everything that led to the moment.

The second Kara took off, both knew it was perilous at best.  

The world was different after the fight. Kara hovered and couldn’t make herself go back in, and so she made a long night of research at the DEO. And in the morning she apologized and said she was busy with work and stuff, and that she’d miss their date.

All the while, Kara twisted all the words around in her head. She had entire conversations with the things she wished she’d said. They all haunted her equally.

It was opportune that something came up in Metropolis, and Kara excused herself, packing a bag when Lena was at work. The DEO team spent three days trailing the first intel of Lionel, hoping to take him down as best they could, though he was just a puff of smoke. There one minute, and gone in an instant.

He didn’t leave empty handed though. In his wake, Lionel Luthor enacted his revenge upon the city, this time with Superman as the wrecking ball. Alex traced the device to something of a cannister that released odor-less gas into an area. Non-fatal and ineffective against human DNA, once those markers were absent, alien DNA absorbed it, and much like a drug, it caused violent outbursts.

They knew those facts, though they’d never seen it used as a weapon so effectively. Kara was elbow deep into the best pho in town, complaining to her sister about her fight, when she caught sight of the news that showed her cousin going insane.

By the end of the night, sixty-four were dead, and Kal was locked up. By the end of the night, Kara was exhausted and well torn up from the battle of not just her cousin, but sixteen other aliens at the same time. She didn’t have to hear the news to know that the hate would be at an all-time high. She didn’t have to see Clark to know that he was not going to wake up the same. No one would.

And so, suit ripped to shreds and barely hanging on, with aches and pains, Kara sat outside of Clark’s cell and held the phone to her ear, anxious to talk to the one person she loved more than all else. When she got voicemail she just sighed and let her head drop further.

“Change,” Alex instructed as she leaned against the holding cell where Superman struggled despite the heavy doses of Kryptonite.

His pupils were needles, his muscles were strained against the chains, his mouth foaming with rage and psychosis. But he was almost over the worst of it, and that was all Alex could hope he knew.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re torn up and starving and exhausted. Go,” the older sister instructed. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I’m fine,” Kara said again, picking up the phone again. “Have you heard from Lena? I can’t get ahold of her.”

“Not since yesterday.”

The phone rang and Kara grew more agitated as she listened to the mechanical sound. She’d just defeated Superman. Surely Lena saw it. Surely she wouldn’t hold a silly fight over them. They were… They were… Kara knew, with all of her being, that they were safe and good. She never lost that.

While Alex checked vitals on the monitor, she heard her sister stand and walk across the hall a few steps before turning on her heel and approaching again. She let out a groan before dialing once more.

“It was a stupid fight,” Kara lamented. “She can’t ignore me forever.”

“Um, Kara,” Alex furrowed and stared at the images on the monitor as she opened the link Winn sent from back home.

“This is ridiculous. I didn’t even mean half of what I said. I was just mad. I’m still mad. Everything just sucks for the past week, and I hate it.”

“Kara…”

“It hurt, yeah, but I just… I was frustrated more. And then this. I know she’s busy. I know it is important.”

“Kara…”

“How does she not pick up after my day?” Kara groaned, clenching her phone too hard in her fist, destroying it instantly.

“Kara!”

“What?”

Instead of answering, Alex just turned the screen to show her sister. At first Kara didn’t understand, and then the words and the pictures and all of it made some sense when her brain tried to form thoughts.

“I have to go.”

It wasn’t a question. Kara moved as best she could despite the whirring in her head and the frenzied impulses that made it impossible to process anything else. Everything kept happening to her and she was powerless against the whims of the world. It was exhausting to exist.

“But Kal--”

“Kara, I’ll stay.”

“Right. It’ll just be quick. I’ll be back. I just have to-- They tried to take her!”

“Hey, wait. Kara. Just breathe. She’s fine.”

“Can you call Maggie--”

“Already on her way,” Alex promised, hurrying behind the sprinting hero in search of an exit in the unfamiliar DEO they found themselves squatting in to help with the emergency.

“I have to…” Kara turned herself around, frantic. “I have to go. I have to see her.”

“I’ll stay with him. Go. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“Kara, don’t worry. She’s okay,” Alex promised again. “Lena took care of herself, and she’s fine.”

“I should have been there.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I should have. What if she would have-- what if they--”

“No. Don’t do that.”

“I’ll call as soon as I can.”

With nothing more than the self-flagellating frown, Kara found the door and took off, her words of promise to return quickly lost in the speed, though she didn’t notice one bit.

The pictures followed her no matter how hard she pushed herself. Lena, all grainy and determined, fighting back against whoever was attacking her, trying to get her into a car. Kara should have been there. Somehow. If they hadn’t been fighting perhaps she wouldn’t have gone to Metropolis. Perhaps her cousin wouldn’t have been there to be exposed. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel like Lionel was still ruining her life.

She wasn’t sure about any answers, but she did realize that if anyone had succeeded in hurting Lena, not much could stop her warpath. The wrath almost frightened herself.

There wasn’t even a hesitation when she touched down on their balcony. Not one part of her could contain the worry and she couldn’t believe that Lena was alright until she saw her. She made it from Metropolis in record time. She felt so exhausted that her body was fighting against itself, which was a far better alternative in her own opinion, than the rage she wanted to enact on someone, anyone.

“Lee?” she called, earning a meow from the cat as he stretched.

Straining her ears, she followed the sound of running water to the bathroom, not even giving Darwin a second or pet or any bit of attention despite the big green eyes that sprinted after her cape.

“Oh, Lena,” Kara finally breathed. She hadn’t realized she’d held it since the moment she saw Clark attacking the city. She hadn’t had a second to think since he flung a car at her, and it was all catching up to her.

In the mirror, Lena smiled, small and relieved, oddly, at the newest arrival. One eye swollen and stitches on her cheek, she was still the best thing to the hero.

“You should see the other guys.”

“I plan on it,” Kara swore, finally taking the steps toward her. “When I see them they will know fear.” Despite her lethargy, Kara felt her muscles shake with the angry kind of fear that made dogs bite.

“I took care of myself.”

“I should have been there.”

“How’s Clark?”

Tentatively, Kara finally touched Lena’s chin tilted her head and furrowed at the sight of the cut on her cheek. Lena was almost accustomed to seeing Kara a little damaged. But something about the sight of blood on Lena’s pale skin, the cut on her flawless cheek, it just felt wrong, felt like what footsteps through fresh snow did.

“I should have been there,” the hero whispered again, swallowing harshly. “I am so sorry, Lee. You have to know-- I’d never let anything happen to you. I’d rather… I’d rather eat Kryptonite than see you hurt. I wish I’d--”

“I’m okay,” Lena smiled, softening with her girlfriend’s words. “I’ve had a bit of self-defense training.”

Hands on the crest on Kara’s chest, Lena pushed closer. She didn’t know how to ask for what she needed, and so her fingertips simply picked at the stitching there, eager only to feel the heartbeat that made Kara real.

“You should have called me… I would have… I could have-- I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no. Stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I know things feel weird, I know I didn’t--”

“I haven’t been able to think of anything since I saw that video,” Kara shook her head. “I haven’t felt fear like that… I haven’t been afraid of anything for so long.”

There in the bathroom, Lena felt the hero wobble slightly with the confession and deep breath. Still, there were cuts to her uniform. There were bruises purpling and yellowing her neck and shoulder. Still, there was dirt and mud in her hair. She shook her head and sighed, her hand pressing firmly against her neck, then her jaw, helping to keep the weary hero standing.  

“But did you see when I punched that one?” Lena tried to pull Kara out of the hole. “If my father thinks he can scare me, he’ll have to send better guys than that. I think the one peed his pants when I tased him.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Kara mumbled, eyes closing with the gentle way Lena always knew how to soothe her, fingertips massaging her neck, just where her hair was. She fought it as best she could because she had to. “I was mad and frustrated.”

“I’m sorry I said what I did. Maybe I don’t know how to not be a Luthor.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep being Supergirl.” With a long exhale, Kara leaned forward, nudging Lena with her forehead. Lena wrapped her arms around her broad shoulders and kissed her neck. “That could have been me. They’re targeting Superman. He’s going to feel so guilty, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I shouldn’t have left. I can’t lose you, Lena. I was so afraid. You have no idea.”

“I might have some idea. I watched you get punched into the stratosphere by your cousin today. I know what it feels like. But you told me you always come home. I’ve never doubted it, and neither should you.”

“I’m supposed to be making you feel better.”  

Hands knit into the soft fabric of her own old shirt currently adorning the Luthor. Kara closed her eyes and held on tight. All of the anger dissipated. The fight was pointless and full of annoying frustrations at themselves. Kara watched a video of people attempting to put her girlfriend into a van and she fought them off, but these types of things were almost normal.

“I’m alright,” Lena cooed. “You’re alright. We’re alright. Clark is going to be okay. I’ve already hired extra security. No worse for wear here.”

It wasn’t a front. It wasn’t even a fib. Lena thought she should have been more rattled, but she wasn’t. Something about it felt inevitable, and perhaps she’d always envisioned something happening to her. So quiet the world had been, she was on edge enough, distrusting anything that came so easy.

“I was so scared.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I date a superhero. A little kidnapping attempt doesn’t even ruffle my feathers.”

“Can we fix this?”

“Oh, Kara, honey,” Lena kissed all that she could, stepping up on her tiptoes to wrap up the giant she loved. “Me and you are perfect. Now, the world? If anyone can fix it, it’s us.”

It was only then that she earned a smile. It wasn’t the loppy one she wanted, but it was a start, and it was real and earned and Lena found herself wiping away the tears Kara didn't know she’d finally cried from the weight of the day finally being too much. Something about being needed, being the one that soothed and took care, that was the real cure Lena needed for her heart at the moment. To be needed and vital to Kara, to be the person who could make her smile when she was so upset, that was magic, plain and simple. Never before had Lena done something so inducing of pride.

“You look like you had a day.”

“If that’s not the pot calling the kettle,” Kara shook her head and grinned, almost back.

“You should see the other guys.”

“I wish I had been there.”

“I’m kind of glad you weren’t,” Lena realized. Kara quirked her head. “Yeah I dinged them up, but you might have killed them,” she chuckled. “Go shower. I’ll make you something to take with you. I bet you’re starved.”

“I want to stay.”

“He’s your family. I’m okay. I know you need to be there for him,” she promised, fretting her worried fingers over the crest.

“You’re my family.”

“I know,” Lena grinned, trying to contain the little bit of surprise and joy she felt at that description. “Go shower. I’ll get food. We’ll take the jet. Together.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

[daddybarnes1ao3]

Therapy Hours - Chapter 1

Find it here on AO3, or DM to be put on a tag list

Pairing; Bucky Barnes x OC

Story Summary; Niana Cross is just an ordinary girl, but shes got an extraordinary job to do. And she'll be damned if she isn't good at her job.

Word Count; 5014

Chapter 1 - The Path Ahead

‘Steve calls his therapist, Sam's a good friend, and Niana finally meets James Barnes - or what's left of him.’

Niana Cross didn't think she was anything special, not in the grand scheme of things. Sure, she had a pretty special job, but she was still just an average looking girl that loved watching horror movies and eating pizza.

The simplest explanation for why some people thought she was special is; she knew all the Avengers on a first name basis.

She started off as Tony Stark's therapist. She was contacted by the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nick Fury, just after Tony's miraculous return from Afghanistan and asked to evaluate him. Stark saw something in the girl, something that he trusted, so he kept her on as his personal on-call therapist. (He payed her well to make up for the weird hours he kept.) He spoke to her, confided in her more than he did anyone else - including Pepper Potts.

Pepper doesn't hold it against Niana. In fact, she's glad Tony has someone he can talk to. She has even grown close to the girl herself, the two becoming best friends.

When Steve Rogers was defrosted and tossed into the 21st century, both Tony and Fury recommended Niana to him. Steve figured that if even Tony 'I-Don't-Need-Help' Stark said the girl would be good for him, she had to be something special. No one could have guessed just how close the newly acquainted pair would become. Steve was like the brother Niana never had, and she was the little sister he always wanted.

After the events of New York in 2012, she started seeing all the Avengers regularly - except Thor, of course, who had to return to Asgard but promised a conversation upon his return. They were all struggling, some more than others, and Niana was happy to take some of the weight from them. They all grew to love her, in their own weird and wonderful ways. (Don't judge, Natasha shows her love by destroying your enemies and apparently paying off your student loans.)

It was during the events of DC in 2014 that things got the most interesting for Niana. A brief phone call from Steve, babbling almost incomprehensibly about his long-lost best friend, had her stealing borrowing one of Tony's private jets and heading straight to his hospital room.

The Winter Soldier had almost killed Steve twice and then saved him, all in the space of one afternoon. Sam Wilson, a new face that Niana analysed as quickly as her brief glance allowed, had found Steve unconscious on the bank of the Potomac with a very dazed and bruised Bucky Barnes hovering over him. The man was repeating a single phrase over and over.

'Till the end of the line.'

Barnes had handed himself over, surrendering all his weapons and allowing Natasha to cuff him. He required just as much hospital attention as Steve, so the two were separately transported to a safe location instead of a public hospital. (Which Niana later found out was Tony's doing, he knew she would want him to help Steve.)

Niana sat by Steve's bedside, holding his hand gently in her own. He hadn't said a word since she got here. He was deep in thought, staring off into space, so she left him to it. For now, she focused her attention on Wilson.

"How did you meet Steve?" She asked. Sam smirked and looked over at the other man.

"This asshole kept lapping me on my morning run." Sam told her. "Every time he went past, without fail, he’d go-"

"On your left." Steve finished for him; his voice was quiet.

"Stevie." Niana said softly, drawing his attention over to her. Without the girl saying anything else, his eyes filled with tears.

"God, Nia." He choked out. "He was right there, and he had no idea who I was. All that time I spent mourning him, coming to terms with the fact that my best friend was gone, only to find out that Hydra had him the whole fucking t-"

His voice finally gives out, breaking as he begins to sob. Niana stands from her chair, gently wrapping her arms around Steve's shoulders and letting him cry into her shirt.

In all the time she had spoken to Steve, he had never allowed himself to really let his emotions out. He had mentioned his best friend, how living without him by his side was hard, but he had never cried. And now he was letting it all out, and Niana found that she too was teary eyed.

Sam felt like he was intruding on something a little too personal, so he rose from his seat and left to grab the three of them something to drink. He knew Steve was in good hands from the way he spoke about the younger girl.

Niana let Steve hold on to her like a lifeline, even if she thought his hands were a little too tight on her arm; she would have some bruises later, but Steve needed her right now.

“Can you h-help him?” Steve hiccuped, his grip on her momentarily tightening. “Can you t-try to h-help him?”

“Of course, Steve.” Niana told him, softening her voice in an attempt to calm him down. “I’ll sit with him every day if I have to. He’ll get the best care possible.”

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, like he had expected her to say no, and relaxed further into her arms. It barely took ten minutes of quiet reassurances from Niana for him to drift off, the stress of an insanely long day finally catching up to him.

Sam ambled back in, two cups of tea in hand and a bottle of water tucked under his arm.

“He asleep?” He asked, setting her cup down beside her.

“Yeah.” Niana replies, gently running her fingers through the blonde’s hair.

“Barnes really did a number on him.” Sam commented, pointing to Steve’s medical file which had been left on his bedside table. Niana makes a point of turning away from it; she didn’t want to see how close to death her brother had been. And that file was far too thick for comfort.

“Barnes was brainwashed, he was just doing what he was told.” Niana said, her voice taking a slightly defensive tone at Sam’s jibe. She hadn’t met the man yet, but she had already decided to take him on as a patient - not just for Steve’s benefit, but to try and help a man who had nothing. And she was very protective of those she tried to help.

“Cause you’re an expert on Hydra’s inner workings, are you?” Sam scoffed, raising his eyebrows at her. She knew he was baiting her into a reaction, wanting to see what kind of person she was, but she willingly gave it.

She raised her eyebrows right back and pointed over to her bag. It was overflowing with paperwork, scribbled notes, and had her laptop sticking out of it.

“As of the flight over here, yes.” She snapped back, pausing and lowering her voice when Steve stirred in her arms. “I went through as much of Hydra’s files on Barnes as I could decrypt without alerting any government agencies that might be watching.”

She paused for a second, a look of sympathy washing over her. “What they did to him, god Sam, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“He’s still hurt people.” Sam told her.

“Yes, and the Hydra agents that ordered those hits will pay for it - probably with their lives.” Niana said sharply, meeting his stare dead on. “Barnes was just a weapon; you can’t persecute him for the fact that they used his body to do their bidding. You don’t blame the gun, Sam, you blame the one that fired it.”

“He fired it.” Sam snipped back. “Someone has to pay, you know that.”

“Not him.” Niana says, her voice quieting again. “He’s suffered for almost seventy years, don't you think that’s enough? Now shut up before you wake Steve.”

Sam said nothing for a few minutes, allowing the tension in the room to ease off slightly. Then he sighed. He saw her point, and he had to admit that his own opinion was clouded. He had seen the Winter Soldier in action, saw his body cause harm to innocent civilians. But she was right, he wasn’t in control. It wouldn’t be fair to blame this on him.

“Fine. But I’m still mad about my car.” He joked, shaking his head at the thought of his wrecked vehicle.

Niana had to stifle her laugh, not wanting to wake Steve. Nat had told her about Sam’s steering wheel being ripped right out of his hands while she was on her way in, it was extremely funny if you ignore the circumstances. Sam smiled lightly, counting her laugh as a win.

Ten minutes passed in an almost comfortable silence before Niana looked back over at Sam. He could tell she was nervous about whatever she had to say, her cup of tea was long gone but she was still fiddling with her cup, so he tried to look as comforting as possible.  

“In Hydra’s files, there was a mission report.” She starts, her voice wavering. “It was buried under some pretty trivial junk, so I don’t think anyone thought it necessary to go through it.”

She paused, swallowing back the lump in her throat. Sam nodded for her to go on.

“December 16th, 1991.” She whispers. “The car crash that killed Tony’s parents.”

Sam, despite not knowing Tony personally - or at all, apart from what he’d seen on the news - felt his heart break for the man. Hydra was the reason his parents were dead, Barnes was the one to kill them; under orders or not, it was his hands. That would be a difficult thing for anyone to accept.

“I have to tell him. Right?” Niana asks him, her eyes dampening at the thought. “It has to be me, before he finds the file himself.”

“Can you do it?” Sam asks her back. She looks slightly confused, so he elaborates. “I mean, can you be the one to give him that information without losing his trust - or just losing him? Is he the type to shoot the messenger?”

“Me and Tony, our relationship is complicated.” Niana tells him, her voice wavering. “He won’t hold it against me personally, but I’ve worked really hard for quite some time to get him to a place where he’s even remotely ready to come to terms with their deaths. And to now find out that it wasn’t an accident? That it was actually murder? This could destroy so much of the progress that he’s made.”

Sam thinks that over for a while, understanding that the situation is more complex than she’s letting on. It would be rude for her to discuss Tony’s private affairs, of course he understood that.

“Is there an alternative?” Sam asks. “Can this be buried; does he even have to find out at all?”

Niana shakes her head. “If I don’t tell him and he finds out some other way, which he will cause he’s too nosy for his own good, he’ll lose any and all trust he has for me. We don’t keep secrets from each other, that’s rule one.”

“You have rules?” Sam frowns, but his tone of voice is amused.

“I’m Iron Man’s therapist, of course we have rules.” She grins wryly, pausing to assess Sam. “We’re very similar, Sam. You and me. I can see why Steve was drawn to you. I guarantee we get into a fight within the first month, but I think we could be great friends.”

“A month?” Sam asks, tilting his head. “I give it two weeks.” He reaches across Steve’s bed, Niana meeting him halfway to shake his hand.

“We’ll see.” She concedes, laughing.

“Stop laughing before you wake up sleeping beauty.”  Sam jokes, pointing to the man still asleep on her chest.

Niana calms, returning to gently playing with Steve’s hair.

“It’ll be hard, telling Tony.” She says after some contemplation. “But it has to be me, and it has to be soon.”

Sam nods. He understands that the less time spent holding this sensitive information from Tony, the better.

“When?” He asks.

“Once Steve is out of here, and once I’ve finally had a conversation with Barnes.” Niana tells him. “I’ll have to go to Tony with more than just ‘he was brainwashed’ for him to consider continuing to help them. A full evaluation on his physical and mental health seems necessary, given the circumstances.”

“Them?” Sam questions. “What do you mean ‘continue helping them’?”

“Steve will defend Barnes no matter what.” She explains. “If Barnes goes, Steve goes.”

“This puts you in a bit of an awkward position.” Sam sighs, suddenly feeling rather sorry for the young woman.  

“They’re not just my patients, either of them.” Niana smiles. “Tony’s one of my closest friends, and Steve is my big brother. If I go about this in the right way, I might just be able to save their friendship.”

“That’s a lot of weight to carry alone.” Sam says, the ‘therapist’ in him coming out a little.

“It is how it is.” She says with a noncommittal shrug.

Sam has a moment of admiration for her strength, and suddenly he sees why Steve and Natasha were so adamant on her flying out. She was a ray of sunshine, and Steve could definitely use some sunshine in his life. Sam was glad that Steve had her.

“If you need a hand carrying it, though, let me know.” Sam says quietly, sending a small smile her way.

“Thanks, Sam.” Niana smiles back.

“Of course, Niana.” He says. She waves her free hand at him.

“Most of my friends call me Ana.” She tells him. Sam nods, a wry grin overtaking his face.

“I’ll let you know when you make my friends list, Niana.” He laughs.

Niana gasps in mock outrage, her jaw comically dropping.

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

“Oh, that’s how it is.”

The path ahead was only going to get more complicated, but Niana could handle it. Or at least, she hoped she could. Steve deserved the chance to have his best friend back, and Niana would be damned if that chance was taken from him.

***

Four hours later, Steve had finally woken up and was chatting quietly with Sam while Niana poured back over her notes. Most of Steve’s superficial wounds had scabbed over or healed completely, and he could almost feel his ribs knitting back together.

Niana decided to leave him in Sam’s capable hands and finally meet her newest patient. Steve had originally wanted to go with her, going so far as to raise his voice when she denied him, but she wouldn’t back down.

“Steve,” She said quietly, raising an eyebrow. “If you can get out that bed without flinching or falling over, you can come with me.”

He didn’t even bother attempting, just lay back down on his bed with a pout. Sam tried to smother his laughter, but the childish look on Steve’s face had him loudly doubling over.

Niana sent them both smiles before following the Doctor out of the room.

She was nervous, there was no denying that. In the past two years she had heard a lot about James Barnes, stories from Steve, and even a few from Tony (those that he remembered from Howard anyway). But the things she had read, what she knew they had done to him? She wasn’t sure whether to expect the Bucky from Steve’s memories, or the one who almost killed him.

For now he was being kept in a modified cell. He had been given a cot, nailed down to the floor, as well as a table with two chairs - which Niana thought looked suspiciously like an interrogation table. She ignored how much that bothered her for now, waving the guards back as she went to enter the room.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you go in alone.” One of the men said, reaching to grab her arm.

Niana smacked his hand away, levelling him with a sharp glare.

“You can and you will.” She tells him. “All your presence will do is scare him. If I need help, I’m sure you’ll hear me scream.”

The sarcastic comment was probably uncalled for, but Niana was slightly proud of the way the guard stuttered as she opened the door and walked in.

Bucky lifted his head as she entered. He was crouched in the empty corner of the room, muttering to himself. He was in loose sweatpants and a sleeveless white cotton t-shirt.

Niana took a seat on one side of the table, crossing her arms where he could see them.

“Hello.” She said, her voice so low that even she almost couldn’t hear it. “My name is Niana Cross, you can call me Ana.”

Bucky made no move to acknowledge her, apart from momentarily glancing her way.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Can you sit with me?” Niana pointed to the chair.

He looked at the chair as if it had done him personal offence, but got up and took a seat across from her at the table.

Up close, Niana could see just how badly injured he was. His face had some major bruising all over, his eyebrow and lip were both split, he had a black eye, and some bruising across his neck. She could also see the scarring where the metal of his arm met the flesh. It was horribly red and puckered.

“Steve’s okay, I left him recovering in his own room.” Niana told him, her voice still soft. “He wants you to know that he’s okay.”

“Please d-don’t.” He stuttered out; his voice was rough and strangled.

“Don’t what?” Niana asked, searching his face.

“The name.” He choked out.

"Steve?” Niana confirmed. He flinched so hard that she wondered if he was actually in pain. She quickly backtracked, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, we wont call him that." She said quietly. "Do you want to call him another name, something that isn’t difficult for you to hear or say?"

He looked to be thinking over her words, but made no move to answer. Niana gave him some time, watching as he opened and closed his mouth multiple times before giving up.

"Grant, his middle name is Grant." Niana told him. "How about we call him that for now, yeah?"

He said the name a few times quietly to himself, then looked up at her and nodded. Niana gave him a soft smile, and continued.

"Grant asked me to check up on you, and to see if I could help you." She told him, assessing his reactions. He grimaced at the mention of Steve, even under his pseudonym, but seemed confused at the second half of her statement.

"How?" He asked.

"I'm a therapist. His, actually, along with other members of the Avengers. St-Grant wanted me to help you, in any way I could." Niana watched as he tensed up at the mention of the Avengers, but seemed to focused on her to have much of a reaction.

"Said something." Bucky frowned, dropping his head so he was staring at the table in front of him.

Niana had dealt with enough PTSD and trauma to know that she needed to tread carefully; pushing too hard could topple him over the edge of his delicate sanity.

"Grant did? What did he say?" Niana asked him.

Both his fists clenched on the table, the metal arm clicking and locking as the joints moved.

"T-to the end of the line." He stuttered out, swiping his eyes as they teared up slightly. "I don't- meaning."

"Grant told me that was something you used to say to each other growing up." Niana explained. "It was your way of saying you would always be there for one another."

Bucky nodded. "Saw something, maybe?"

Niana tried not to frown at his use of 'maybe'. "You saw something? Was it a memory?" She asks.

He lets out a sharp breath, and shakes his head. "I can't- I can't tell." His voice is the most quiet she's heard it. "Real?"

Yeah, that's what she was afraid of. Niana had an idea, but it wasn't exactly one of her best or safest plans. She rolled up the sleeve of her cardigan and leaned her left hand across the table towards him.

"Take my hand." She says.

He looks at her, confused. "What?"

"Take my hand." She repeats, nodding down at her exposed wrist.

"No! Dangerous." He says, pointing to himself while looking at her like she's crazy.

"Trust me." She whispers, locking eyes with him.

He reaches out with his flesh hand, hesitating above hers. Niana nods, gently moving his hand so it's wrapped around her wrist and his fingers and pressed in. Niana feels her heart start to race. This was not exactly her smartest plan, let the brainwashed assassin get hold of you, but he needed comfort.

"You feel that? My pulse racing, blood pumping through my veins. This is real." She says softly. "I'm going to help you, as much as I can. Will you trust me to help you?"

He doesn't let go, quietly contemplating her words. Finally, he pulls his hand back and nods his head.

Niana smiles at him. "Well, you know who I am. What can I call you? Do you know your name?"

Immediately, he grimaces and shakes his head, dropping his line of sight so he was looking at the table. "Difficult, hurts."

Niana nods her head in understanding. "That's okay, I’ll call you whatever you're comfortable with."

"I can choose." He says, both a question and a statement.

Niana has the harsh realisation that this may be the first choice he's made for himself in seventy years. She struggles to stop herself tearing up. "Of course you can, choose whatever you want." She says, her voice noticeably more thick.

He takes a minute, frowning in thought, then looks back up at her. "Barnes. J-James Buchanan Barnes is me? Grant said."

Niana confirms with a nod. "Yeah, that’s you. If you want me to call you Barnes, I will."

A quick glance at her watch tells her that she needs to head back to Steve now. "It was nice to meet you Barnes. If you need to speak with me again before I come back, tell the guard to call me. I'll be here whenever you need me."

He nods at her, rising from the seat and retreating to the corner of the room he was in before. Niana smiled gently at him, before knocking to be let out. She closes the door behind her, and turns to face the guard - the same one who tried to stop her from entering in the first place. She definitely wasn't his biggest fan.

"I'm clearing Barnes for release into my custody." She tells him, moving to sign the forms on the table.

The guard, who's name she hadn't bothered to learn, stepped up beside her and shook his head.

"I'm not sure that's safe, miss." He says back.

"It's what he needs." She explains to him, handing over her filled out report. "He's not violent and even if he becomes so, i will have people around who can handle that."

"What he needs is to be in a secured space with 24 hour armed guards." The guard says, speaking slowly like she was a stupid child. "Or have you not seen the damage and destruction he's caused?"

"He will be secure, but he will be in an environment that will allow him to heal and to come to terms with his new reality." Niana says, her voice bordering on yelling. "He doesn't need guarded, especially by armed soldiers. This man is the longest serving POW in history, I wont let you lock him up like his abusers did."

"He needs to be in the hands of people capable of containing him if he snaps." The guard said, gritting his teeth at her.

"Oh, so the Avengers aren't capable?" Niana sassed, resting a hand on her hip. "They can fight off an entire alien army, but one man with a metal arm and suddenly they're useless?"

"That's not what i-" He tried to backtrack. Niana held up her free hand to stop him.

"I don't care what you meant." She tells him firmly. "This is not your decision, it's mine. He's leaving here with me."

The guard straightens up, towering over her small frame. "You're not-"

"I'm sorry, are you about to tell me what I'm capable of doing?" Niana cuts him off. Suddenly, every mannerism she's picked up from years of spending time with Tony is bubbling to the surface.

"No, of course not." He says, trying to placate her.

"Good." Niana said, pulling out her phone and sending a quick text to Tony. She knew he would support her with whatever she needed. "Tony Stark will be sending someone to transport Bucky and Steve to the med bay in Avengers Tower, that's my final word on the matter."

The man shifted, sending Niana a look that said he didn't agree. Niana raised her eyebrows. "Is that understood, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am." He snapped back, though he didn't sound completely sincere.

All her time spent with Tony had given her one advantage over this arrogant idiot; she knew how to intimidate people bigger than her. Being as short as she is, and being much more naive than the billionaire genius, Tony had taken it upon himself to teach her how to hold her own when he wasn't around to flaunt his name.

Niana took a step closer to the guard, forcing him to meet her eyes. She kept eye contact and waited until he nervously swallowed to begin speaking.

"If you try to find a way around this, a way around me? Well, then you will find out firsthand exactly what I'm capable of." Niana snarled at him.

She continued to glare at him until he nodded, then she turned on her heels and walked away without looking back.

From inside his room, for the first time in seventy years, Bucky Barnes smiled.

***

Niana returned to Steve's room feeling much more content in her decision to help Bucky. She felt like she had managed to catch a glimpse of who he used to be underneath the persona that had been forced upon him. She wanted to help him, she really did.

Sam gave her a smile as she sat down, linking her hand with Steve's. "How did it go?" He asked.

"Surprisingly well." She breathes out, giving them both a tight lipped smile.

"Tell me how he is, please." Steve asks, looking over at her.

Niana hesitates for a second, but decides that it would be best to let him know what he's in for. "He's not violent if that's what you're really asking. He's mostly just confused. I think hes been having hallucinations mixed in with memories, he said he can't always tell what's real."

"That doesn't sound 'surprisingly well' to me." Sam said, his eyebrows raised.

"After being tortured for seventy years? To be blunt, I think it's a miracle he's even functioning." Niana told him.

"But that's not all, is it?" Steve asks, frowning at her. Damn his ability to read her like a book.

"No." She agrees with a sigh. "I want Banner and Cho to give him a full work over, brain and body scans. The scarring on that arm looks horrific, I don't want any underlying damage to set back his recovery."

"Why brain scans?" Sam asked. Niana gave him a look, wondering if he missed the memory loss and torture part. He rolled his eyes and kept going. "I mean, I know hes an amnesiac but is there more than that?"

This was far more than Niana originally intended to tell them, but she knew they could be trusted.

"He had some bruising on the side of his face. It looked older than the fight and I was wondering if they used some form of electro-stimulation to wipe his memory." Niana explains. "That could leave lasting effects, and I need to know what to expect. His speech is pretty broken, he has trouble forming full sentences. That’s pretty common in brain injuries."

"But he's okay." Steve says. Niana doesn't have the heart to tell him no, he isn't, so she tries to avoid answering.

"He has trouble saying your name, it's possible they used you to torture him." Niana's heart breaks at the expression on Steve's face. "And I don't want to lie to you, Stevie, it might be a while before you can see him in person again. But I'm going to make sure he gets the best treatment possible."

"Thank you, Nia." Steve says, smiling at her despite the tears in his eyes.

"Tony's going to send transport for you and Barnes, to get take you both to Avengers tower in New York." Niana says, looking over the reply from Tony with all the details of their transfer.

"Really? Why?" Steve asks, looking confused and slightly bewildered.

"Because I asked him to, and because I think it's the safest place for you two right now." Niana explains. "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't factor you in to that plan. I just wanted to get them out of here."

"Don't worry about me." Sam tells them both. "I can't drop my work and disappear yet. I'll have to set a few things up before I can come out to NY."

Niana nods in understanding, then looks back over to Steve.

"I hope he's okay." Steve said, more to himself than to his friends.

Standing up to wrap an arm around his shoulders, Niana pulls him in for a hug. "He's not." She told him softly. "But he will be."

Or at least, she hoped he would be.

[mild-lunacy]

The Beauty and the Beast Solution

I certainly have a book hangover after R. Lee Smith's Land of the Beautiful Dead, but I also can't help but think about villains. I've actually never particularly been fond of villains for their own sake. So what is that ever elusive quality that Smith has consistently captured that allows readers to forgive a villain? Redemption is one thing. As @ohtze talked about with Kylo Ren and Star Wars, redemption narratives have a classic, predictable structure, a rhyme and reason to them. Kylo Ren has to suffer extensively for his crimes and to repent before the audience is satisfied that he's allowed to live happily, or even simply live. Dying is a bit of shortcut. For example, while eventually Vader repented, he never suffered for his crimes, and so he couldn't live. The audience wouldn't be on his side if he did. The whole idea of redemption narratives is that they are more or less necessary, because otherwise audiences wouldn't tolerate a positive resolution after certain crimes. Mob justice demands blood, so to speak: an eye for an eye.

And yet, LotBD works without the villain love interest's repentance or redemption. I suppose you can argue he repented, in that he felt bad in the end, but on the other hand, it felt weirdly closer to a descent into self-hatred than anything. Perhaps that's a thin line, I'm not sure. But here you have this immortal demonic being who can raise the dead, and who brought about the zombie apocalypse. To be fair, he never wanted to bring about the world's destruction. And, of course, in his mind, after being hunted and persecuted by humanity for millennia, he felt mercy and compassion were weaknesses he could not afford. So in that sense, he was a creature of rational self-interest, but surely that doesn't make him less of a villain.

On the one hand, the demon, Azrael, definitely didn't suffer enough to make up for millions of innocent people's death. Is it even possible to suffer enough to redeem that? And in the end, he's not a different person. On the other hand, Azrael has always suffered for his entire existence. This is also true for Kylo Ren; however, if it doesn't let him off the hook with the audience, you can't argue it should make a difference with Azrael, either. Perhaps the difference is that of necessity: Kylo Ren may be necessary to bring balance to the force, so there's a good reason to make peace with his existence somehow. However, Azrael is simply immortal. Like a force of nature, he cannot be killed, or even entirely avoided. So it behooves other people (in the audience as in his world) to deal with his presence. Perhaps that's it.

I can't help but think that's close but not quite enough. I do think building widespread reader sympathy for villains without the process of redemption requires a sense of necessity, but I don't think it has to be handed down as a fait accompli. The plot of LotBD wouldn't work if Azrael wasn't immortal, because someone can always just take the easy way out and kill a villain. In general, there's too many people who'd benefit from a villain's death, and so eventually one of them would succeed. With villains who aren't immortal, you therefore either need redemption or a really good reason for why they'd survive long-term. Exile, for example. Or alternatively, being controlled or even employed by the good guys.

Those are just plot-level solutions, though. While I've read books with both the exile and the employment endings recently, I doubt it was these solutions that actually created reader sympathy or made redemption unnecessary. In Tiffany Roberts' Isle of the Forgotten series, the demon Morthanion was straightforwardly redeemed by love, though in a much more surface manner than in LotBD. That was mostly thanks to the use of the soul-bonding shortcut so popular in paranormal romance. When you have such an overpowering basic instinct to love and protect an innocent, a character readers overwhelmingly sympathize with, the audience can essentially trust a villain on the recognizance of the innocent love interest. That's what I call the Beauty and the Beast solution: the girl's love and care alone is magically enough to tame the beast (or demon, as the case may be).

While you could argue that this is what LotBD is doing, and perhaps it's a version of it, it's not quite that simple. Like with Kylo Ren and Rey, Lan doesn't have that kind of absolute power over Azrael. This is why Kylo Ren absolutely needs to be redeemed, quite aside from his feelings and/or his Force bond with Rey. Likewise, Azrael does obsessively protect Lan, but he spends the entire book most definitely not doing what she wants, at least insofar as ending the apocalypse and/or his zombies. He wants to make her happy, but he also refuses to sacrifice himself for it or to trust her absolutely... and this is ultimately their conflict. And yet, Azrael escapes the need for a redemption arc. So what is it that works with such an honest and rational villain?

Perhaps it's a combination of readers adjusting to necessity and the redemption by love escape clause. What happens is that Azrael doesn't suffer enough to redeem himself (as that's probably impossible in his case), but he suffered enough to open himself to love and allow the redemption by love to work, essentially. Azrael doesn't willingly submit to Lan, in the sense of embracing selflessness on her behalf naturally and without any struggle. If nothing else, like @ohtze explained with Kylo Ren, his own trauma is too great for that. Because of this, it's a much more powerful and realistic journey than Morthanion's, and a much better narrative overall. Azrael is a much more realistic product of the thousands of years of deadly violence and solitude that both of these immortal demons have endured. It is perhaps impossible for him to easily be selfless in love or in anything else, after such a long time. On the other hand, you could argue that learning to love requires a fundamentally different kind of loss, a different kind of suffering, something that one can't expect or be prepared for even with extensive experience of other kinds of suffering or any other kind of loss. And so, this new kind of suffering undoes him as it undoes any mortal man, and he's able to become if not good, then sympathetic.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Saint Januarius - Feast Day: September 19th - Both Calendars

Patron of: Blood Banks, Naples, Italy, and Volcanic Eruptions.

Saint Januarius - Bishop of Benevento

In the time of Diocletian, emperor, and in the fifth consulate of Constantine [Constantius], and seventh [probably "fifth"] of Maximian, there was a great persecution of the Christians. At that time Diocletian appointed Timothy, a pagan, governor in the province of Campania and ordered him to offer sacrifices to idols and to compel all who believed in Christ to do the same. It happened as he was making the customary round of cities, he came to the city of Nola. There he ordered the officials to present themselves before him and when they were present he began to inquire from them concerning the judgments of his predecessors.

To him the officials related their deeds and among them, when they reached the affairs of the blessed martyrs Sosius, deacon of the church at Miseno and Proculus, deacon of the church at Pozzuoli, and Eutychetes and Acutius, and how they had been tormented by various tortures and had been recast into prison by the order of the judge, he asked the officials what had been done with them. They replied saying that they for a long time were detained in chains and they uttered in addition evil remarks concerning the Blessed Januarius, bishop of Benevento.

This most unjust Timothy having heard these remarks regarding Januarius, ordered him to be brought before him and when he was presented before his tribunal at Nola, Timothy the judge said to him: "Januarius, having heard of the reputation of your family I exhort you to sacrifice to the gods in obedience to the decrees of the invincible rulers. But if you are unwilling I shall subject you to horrible torments which the God whom you worship when he shall see them he himself shall fear."

St. Januarius however replied: "Be silent, O unhappy man, and do not insult in my hearing Him who created heaven and earth, lest the Lord God may hear such a blasphemy as that which proceeds from your mouth and he may destroy you and you shall be mute and deaf, not hearing and like a blind man not seeing." Having heard these things the tyrant Timothy says to the saint: "Is it in your power that by any enchantments whatever you or your god can prevail against me?"

St. Januarius replies: "My power is nothing but there is a God in heaven who can resist you and all who obey and abet you." And when he had said this the tyrant ordered him back to prison.

Being very angry he ordered a furnace to be heated for three days and the saint to be cast into it. They holy man made the sign of the cross on his forehead, looked up to heaven sighing and extending his hands, and having entered the fiery furnace he was praising God, saying: "O Lord Jesus Christ for the sake of thy holy name I embrace willingly this suffering and I expect every promise which thou hast promised to those who love Thee. Hear me praying to Thee and deliver me from this flame, thou who wert present with the three children, Ananias, Asarias, Misael in the fiery furnace, and be with me in this my trial to deliver me from the hands of the enemy." Saying these things, Blessed Januarius began to walk with holy angels in the midst of the fire praising the Father and Son and Holy Ghost.

When the soldiers who were around the furnace heard St. Januarius in its depth praising God they feared with a great fear and ran in great haste and told the judge saying, "We beseech thee, sir, not to be angry with us but we have heard the voice of Januarius in the furnace invoking his Lord, and being greatly terrified we fled." Timothy hearing this ordered the furnace to be opened and when it was opened the flames shot out and devoured some incredulous pagans who were around about it. But St. Januarius appeared in the midst glorifying the Lord Jesus Christ so that the fire could not touch either his clothes or his hair.

Timothy however when he had heard this ordered him before him and said to him: "Of what avail is it that the magic you exercise is powerful? By various torments I will make you perish." Bl. Januarius replied: "It will not be well for thee, thou cruel tyrant, to alienate the servant of Christ from the truth of Christ or to cause me to obey through fear. I will hope in the Lord. I will not fear no matter what men may do to me," and thus replying the judge ordered him led back to prison.

On another day, Timothy had Januarius before him: "How long, unhappy man, will you refuse to sacrifice to the immortal gods? Approach now and offer incense. If not I shall order you to be beheaded and if he can, let your God free you from my hands." The saint replied: "You do not know that the power of God is great. Would that you would repent so that my God might pardon you whom you say to be unable to free me from your hands! When you speak thus you are heaping up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath."

The judge not liking this speech ordered his shackels to be removed. Januarius prayed to God saying: "O Lord Jesus Christ who has not abandoned me from my mother’s womb now hear thy servant crying to thee and command me to depart this world and obtain thy mercy." The judge thinking how he would kill him sent him back to prison…

The mother of St. Januarius residing at Benevento, three days before her son suffered, saw in a dream that Januarius was flying in the air to heaven and when she was puzzled by the dream and would inquire what it meant, suddenly it was announced to her that her son was imprisoned for the love of God. She however greatly terrified, prostrating herself in prayer before the Lord, gave up her spirit.

In the meantime when the saints had arrived at the place where they were to be beheaded, that is at the Solfatara, St. Januarius kneeling prayed: "O Lord, omnipotent God, into thy hands I commend my spirit" and then rising he took his orarium and bound his eyes and kneeling again he placed his hand on his neck and asked the executioner to strike. The executioner struck with great force and cut off at the same time a finger of the saint’s hand and his head. The other saints received likewise their crown. St. Januarius after his execution appeared to the old man and offered him as he had promised the orarium which had bound his eyes and said: "Behold what I promised you, take it as I promised it," and he took it and hid it in his bosom with great reverence.

The executioners and two other officials seeing the old man, laughingly asked him: "Have you got what he who was beheaded promised?" But he said, "Yes," and showed them the orarium which they recognized and wondered greatly. On the very same hour at which St. Januarius and the holy martyrs were beheaded the cruel Timothy began to suffer very much and he was exclaiming aloud: "I suffer these pains for having treated Januarius the servant of God so impiously. The angels of God torment me." And when he had been long tormented he gave up the ghost.

The Christians of various cities were guarding the bodies of the saints that they might carry them off at night to their own cities and they kept a careful though secret watch; and when night was come and all were sleeping, St. Januarius in the silence of the night appeared to one of those who were prepared to take away his body and said to him: "Brother, when you take away my body know that the finger of my hand is missing. Seek it and place it with my body." And so it was done as the saint himself had admonished. The bodies of the saints lay at the Solfatara where later was founded a church worthy of St. Januarius the martyr.

The relic and the Ceremony of Saint Januarius

The relic is an ancient, round and flattened, sealed glass vial, of an estimated volume of 60 ml, half-filled with the dark unknown substance, The vial, together with an empty smaller one, is encased between the two rounded glass walls of the portable silver reliquary. During the ceremony the reliquary is repeatedly picked up, moved around and upturned to check whether the liquefaction has taken place. If it has, the dark mass is seen to flow freely into the vial. The liquefaction sometimes takes place almost immediately, or can take hours, even days. The liquid mass is said to boil or froth, the color to change from a dark reddish brown, and the volume and even the weight to increase. Part of the mass (the globo) is sometimes seen to remain solid and float in the liquid.

Note: image is of the blood of Saint Januarius.

[seekfirstme]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2019. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.ServantsOfTheWord.org

Meditation: When your security is threatened and danger strikes do you flee or stand your ground? When King Herod, the ruler of Galilee, heard that thousands of people were coming to Jesus, he decided it was time to eliminate this threat to his influence and power. That is why some of the Pharisees warned Jesus to flee from the wrath of Herod. Jesus, in turn, warned them that they were in greater spiritual danger of losing both soul and body to hell (Matthew 10:28) if they refused to listen to God and to his messengers the prophets (Luke 13:34). Like John the Baptist and all the prophets who preceded him, Jesus posed a threat to the ruling authorities of his day.

Do not fear those who oppose God

Jesus went so far as to call Herod a fox. What did he mean by such an expression? The fox was regarded as the slyest of all animals and one of the most destructive as well. Any farmer will tell you how difficult it is to get rid of foxes who under the cover of night steal and destroy. The fox became a symbol of what was worthless,  insignificant, and destructive. It takes great courage to stand up and openly oppose a tyrant. Jesus knew that he would suffer the same fate as the prophets who came before him. He not only willingly exposed himself to such danger, but he prayed for his persecutors and for those who rejected the prophets who spoke in God's name. Do you pray for your enemies and for those who oppose the Gospel message today?

Jesus came to set people free from sin and to give them new life

Jesus contrasts his desire for Jerusalem - the holy city and temple of God - with Jerusalem's lack of desire for him as their long-expected Messiah. Jesus compares his longing for Jerusalem with a mother hen gathering her chicks under her protective wings. Psalm 91 speaks of God's protection in such terms: He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge (Psalm 91:4). Jesus willingly set his face toward Jerusalem, knowing that he would meet certain betrayal, rejection, and death on a cross. His death on the cross, however, brought about victory and salvation, not only for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, but for all - both Jew and Gentile - who would accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior.

Open the door of your heart to the Lord Jesus

Jesus' prophecy is a two-edged sword, pointing to his victory over sin and death and foretelling the destruction of Jerusalem and the dire consequences for all who would reject him and his saving message. While the destruction of Jerusalem's temple was determined - it was razed by the Romans in 70 A.D. - there remained for its inhabitants a narrow open door leading to deliverance. Jesus says: I am the door; whoever enters by me will be saved (John 10:9).

The Lord Jesus opens the way for each of us to have direct access to God who adopts us as his children and who makes his home with us. Do you make room for the Lord in your life? The Lord is knocking at the door of your heart (Revelations 3:20) and he wishes to enter into a close personal relationship with you. Receive him who is the giver of expectant faith, unwavering hope, and undying love. And long for the true home which God has prepared for you in his heavenly city, Jerusalem (Revelations 21:2-4).

"Lord Jesus, I place all my trust and hope in you. Come make your home with me and take possession of my heart and will that I may wholly desire what is pleasing to you. Fill my heart with love and mercy for others that I may boldly witness to the truth and joy of the gospel through word and example, both to those who accept it and to those who oppose it."

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2019.

 

FREE TO CHARGE

  "If God is for us, who can be against us?" —Romans 8:31  

St. Paul asks: "Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Trial, or distress, or persecution, or hunger, or nakedness, or danger, or the sword?" (Rm 8:35) This was no mere rhetorical question for Paul. He had experienced first-hand all of these dangers and more (see 2 Cor 11:23ff). He knew for "certain" that nothing could separate him from the love of God (Rm 8:38, 39). This certain knowledge of God's personal love for him gave Paul the courage to be more than a conqueror (Rm 8:37). No threat could deter Paul from carrying out his mission.

When the Pharisees told Jesus that Herod was trying to kill him (Lk 13:31), this was no idle threat. Herod had just finished killing John the Baptizer, and he would also kill his own son who posed a threat to his kingdom. Jesus, however, was also certain of His Father's enduring love for Him. Undaunted, Jesus proceeded directly toward Jerusalem, Herod's hometown (Lk 13:33). It turned out that Herod indeed had the chance to kill Jesus, but didn't even harm Him (Lk 23:8ff). No threat could deter Jesus from carrying out His mission.

We are baptized into Jesus, and like Paul, we have a mission from God. "Do not be afraid" (Mt 10:31). Let no threat deter you from carrying out your God-given mission.

  Prayer: Father, I will not be intimidated (Mt 10:26) by threats to stop me from loving and serving You. Promise: "He stood at the right hand of the poor man, to save him from those who would condemn him." —Ps 109:31 Praise: Carol was turned away from several religious orders before becoming a third-order Carmelite.   (This teaching was submitted by a member of our editorial team.)  

  Rescript: In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") for One Bread, One Body covering the period from October 1, 2019 through November 30, 2019.

†Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, March 11, 2019.  

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

[mrlnsfrt]

A Mighty Minority

Setting the scene

The Philistines have established Michmash (1 Samuel 13:2, 5) as their base camp. (More on that on Obedience During Emergencies) Not only that, but the Philistines have also sent out raiding parties to control three of the roads that provided access to Michmash, and later a fourth detachment was sent to the pass at Michmash and this would prevent Israelite troops from moving north from Geba. The way the Philistines deployed their troops not only secured their camp at Michmash it also sealed Saul’s camp at Geba from any reinforcements that might come from Israel’s tribes to the north.

Things are not looking good for Saul and his troops. The largest recorded Philistine army was encamped less than two miles away and any hope of assistance from the north had been cut off.

But wait, there’s more!

Let’s talk about weapons. The Philistines possessed a large number of metal weapons. The Philistines also kept Israel form having access to metallurgical technology. The only weapons the Israelites possessed were made of wood and stone. (Bergen, Robert D. The New American Commentary. Broadman & Holman, 1996. p154) 1 Samuel 13:19-21 also describes how the Israelites who had metal farming tools had to take them to the Philistines to have them sharpened for a hefty fee. So the Philistines successfully kept the Israelites from having metal weapons while simultaneously oppressing them financially.

Why?

Why is this information important?

Why did the writer feel the need to mention these details?

What does all this have to do with anything?

Clearly, from a human perspective, Israel had no chance of winning this. The Israelite army is outnumbered, “outgunned” and cut off from receiving reinforcements.

I am thankful to God that we have these descriptions that paint a clear picture of how hopeless the Israelite situation was. The Philistines had more soldiers, chariots, horses, better weapons, and very likely more experience in battle. This description should remind every good Hebrew boy and girl, man and woman, of Exodus 14 when Pharaoh and his chariots persecuted Israel who was humanly helpless and hopeless.

Spoiler Alert!

The helplessness and human hopelessness of Israel help drive home the main point of this story, the main point of the Bible. It is God who makes all the difference. In the New Testament, you find the same key idea. This is how John put it,

He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life. 1 John 5:12 NKJV

Same idea. The most important question is not which side has the most or best weapons or largest army, but rather which side is with God.

Paul also makes the same point in a powerful way.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?  - Romans 8:31 NKJV

How’s your relationship with God?

Sadly, Saul, the commander of the Israelite army dishonored God through fear-inspired disobedience. (For more on that check out Obedience During Emergencies) Whatever human/physical support/advantage Saul had hoped to secure through his disobedience to God’s command clearly would not be enough to turn the tide of battle in his favor. The one thing Saul had going for him was his faithfulness to God and now that he had sacrificed that he is left with no hopes of winning this battle against the Philistines.

Enter Jonathan

Now it happened one day that Jonathan the son of Saul said to the young man who bore his armor, “Come, let us go over to the Philistines’ garrison that is on the other side.” But he did not tell his father.  - 1 Samuel 14:1 NKJV

Saul has 600 men and a priest and seems to be essentially holding court outdoors, as it had been in the period of the Judges (Judges 4:6). Jonathan leaves without saying anything to his father.

Nothing restrains the Lord from saving by many or by few.

Then Jonathan said to the young man who bore his armor, “Come, let us go over to the garrison of these uncircumcised; it may be that the Lord will work for us. For nothing restrains the Lord from saving by many or by few.”

So his armorbearer said to him, “Do all that is in your heart. Go then; here I am with you, according to your heart.” - 1 Samuel 14:6-7 NKJV

What a powerful theological insight! Absolutely nothing refrains the Lord from saving. Numbers don’t matter. If we can remember this, and apply this to our lives, and live this truth, it would end all our anxiety. If we can internalize this truth, it will transform how we live, how we interact with reality.

The way I think about this is that nothing outside of myself can limit what God can do in and through me. I am the only limiting factor for what God can do in my life. Saul had disobeyed God and now sat around with 600 men with no hope of winning. Meanwhile, Jonathan realizes that salvation must come from God and that God does not need a mighty army to save. After all, God had delivered the Israelites from Egypt without needing an army or a single weapon.

God gives us strength and abilities and resources. God blesses and multiplies the gifts He gives us and we can grow and develop and receive more responsibilities. But we must never confuse that with us somehow helping God or adding to what He can do. When God enables us to do great things for Him and those around us, He gets all the honor and glory.

Jonathan had placed his trust in God and that allowed him to move forward instead of being paralyzed by fear. Jonathan, interestingly, refers to the Philistines as “uncircumcised men” the equivalent of calling them godless or heathens. Essentially as a group that did not have a relationship with God. It is also worth noting that Jonathan was not presumptuous. There was theological support for his actions and he figured God could use him. His armorbearer agreed and decided to join Jonathan.

Then Jonathan said, “Very well, let us cross over to these men, and we will show ourselves to them. If they say thus to us, ‘Wait until we come to you,’ then we will stand still in our place and not go up to them. But if they say thus, ‘Come up to us,’ then we will go up. For the Lord has delivered them into our hand, and this will be a sign to us.” - 1 Samuel 14:8-10 NKJV

Jonathan was not careless, he was not suicidal. Jonathan was in a sense having a dialogue with God, a relationship where He created opportunities for God to reveal His will. Jonathan allowed God to open and close doors as he progressed. This way Jonathan was in the position of a servant following God’s leading as opposed to foolishly rushing ahead assuming God would be with him. This behavior shows wisdom and maturity. Jonathan’s actions would not only place his life in harm’s way but also the life of his armorbearer, and perhaps by extent even the well being of his father and Israel’s small army.

Looking at it from a different perspective Jonathan’s plan for fighting the Philistines defies all military logic. First of all, the only strategy that Jonathan and his armorbearer could have is the element of surprise. He was about to give that up by willingly showing himself to the Philistines. Secondly, it would make more military sense to let the enemy exhaust himself coming down to meet him. This would also cause his enemies to give up their superior position on the high ground. Thirdly, exhausting himself scaling a sheer rock wall to then fight the enemy would be suicide, unless of course “the Lord has delivered them into the hand of Israel”

So both of them showed themselves to the garrison of the Philistines. And the Philistines said, “Look, the Hebrews are coming out of the holes where they have hidden.” Then the men of the garrison called to Jonathan and his armorbearer, and said, “Come up to us, and we will show you something.”

Jonathan said to his armorbearer, “Come up after me, for the Lord has delivered them into the hand of Israel.” 

- 1 Samuel 14:11-12 NKJV

The Philistines referred to Jonathan and his armorbearer as if they were animals or insects. said the equivalent of “come over here and I’ll teach you a thing or two.” This was all that Jonathan needed to hear. This was the sign! The enemy was defeated! God had given them the victory, Jonathan and his armorbearer simply had to claim their victory.

And Jonathan climbed up on his hands and knees with his armorbearer after him; and they fell before Jonathan. And as he came after him, his armorbearer killed them. That first slaughter which Jonathan and his armorbearer made was about twenty men within about half an acre of land. - 1 Samuel 14:13-14 NKJV

Even though God showed Jonathan that He was giving him the victory, Jonathan still had to go up. So Jonathan climbed the rock the then proceeded to attack all the man who never saw it coming. I guess that is one upside to Jonathan’s plan. It was so “bad” that it was “good.” Who would ever expect someone to climb the rock face and attack them in their garrison? It would be suicide, no one in their right mind would do such a thing. But that is exactly what Jonathan did, and because God had delivered the Philistines into the hand of Israel they all fell before Jonathan. Jonathan cut them down and his armorbearer confirmed the kill.

Practical Faith

I noticed a nice rhythm to this interaction between Jonathan and God. Jonathan knows that God can give them victory. Jonathan decides to test out his idea. He shares his idea and theology with his armorbearer. His armorbearer supports him. Together they move by faith while asking God to direct their path. God revealed to them that indeed they were on the right path and it was His will to deliver the Philistines into the hand of Israel. Then they climb and begin to fight, as they fight they experience the victories that God had in store for them.

But God is not done yet

And there was trembling in the camp, in the field, and among all the people. The garrison and the raiders also trembled; and the earth quaked, so that it was a very great trembling. Now the watchmen of Saul in Gibeah of Benjamin looked, and there was the multitude, melting away; and they went here and there. - 1 Samuel 14:15-16 NKJV

God now goes above and beyond what Jonathan and his armorbearer could ever accomplish. There is an earthquake and the Philistine army began to melt away.

The watchmen of Saul and all of Israel are about to be reminded that victory comes from God.

My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. - Psalm 62:7 New Living Translation

The horse is prepared for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the LORD. Proverbs 21:31 New Living Translation

But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:57 NKJV

This is a universal truth that we need to learn, continually. The best way to learn this lesson is to experience it.

What is God calling you to do?

How are you ministering to your neighbor?

How are you showing God’s love to those around you?

How are you impacting those around you for the kingdom of God?

Can you find one more friend and make a difference?

Pray.

Move forward.

Take a step and ask God to show you if indeed this is His will for you.

God is still the same.

His power is still at work. He wants to use His children to spread the good news of Salvation in Jesus. God calls us to be salt and light in the world (Matthew 5:13-16), to be His hands and feet on earth (1 Corinthians 12).

And of course, being loving is a big part of being a follower of God.

By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” - John 13:35 NKJV

God is willing to give us the victories.

God is able to give us the victories.

The only question then, my friends, is whether we are willing to take some steps in faith in the direction we believe God is leading and see if He indeed continues to bless and open doors.

Will you move out of your comfort zone in faith? For the honor and glory of God?

That is the only way you will experience His power at work in your life to produce great victories for His kingdom.

God is not waiting for a majority.

God is waiting for you.

Are you willing?