#i want it on a shirt or a flag or a bumper sticker or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokigodofaces · 3 years

Text

Michelle, Marvel, & Pride 25

Link to questions.

What sort of pride apparel do you think the characters would wear/have, if any?

Joey Gutierrez: He has a wristband he wears often enough, and for pride month he wears a bit more stuff. He wears things like backpacks with rainbow straps and a shirt with the gay flag (holy heck I just realized his sexuality is never confirmed as solely gay. He could be bi or something, but I'm pretty sure he is gay).

Peggy Carter: I don't know enough about queer history. She would have something subtle from her time period. Very subtle. This is a time where it was illegal for homosexuals to have federal jobs, such as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. But more recently, I like to think Sharon gave her a little bookmark or something colored like the bisexual flag.

Valkyrie: If she was on Earth, I think she would look really nice with thread braided into her hair to make a bisexual flag. It would look super pretty.

Ayo: Again, I don't know how pride is celebrated in Wakanda, but if there is anything, that's what she would do. I get the vibes from her that she'd like have rainbows on social media or something though.

Loki Laufeyson: He would have some clothes in the colors of the greyromantic, pansexual, and asexual flags, but not straight out the flags. And he'd have a couple of easy to hide apparel, things like this.

Also, I like to imagine Scott doing a card trick in front of him, joking that he can do magic too. Loki is interested (because he's being nice) and he finds it funny that Scott insists on showing him a bunch of ace cards. So Scott starts jokingly buying him stuff with aces of spades, and Loki is down because that is ace as heck.

Bucky Barnes: He has lots of shirts, flags, and all sorts of stuff. I like to think he has rainbow laces he wears with his shoes. He has lots of things that, even if they aren't explicitly queer, give him vibes. Things like the purple lava lamp he found on clearance and a red, purple, and teal tie dye shirt he found at a thrift shop. They aren't mean to be greysexual or bisexual, but they give off the vibes.

Wanda Maximoff: She'd have things with all the flags that apply to her. Those being abrosexual, bisexual, pansexual, aromantic, and asexual. On days where she's aroace, she'll wear her aroace stuff. Pan stuff on pan days. You get the point. And she wears her abrosexual stuff all of the time. She has things like rings, denim jacket with the flags ironed on, maybe shoes kind of like these.

Lance Hunter: He has a watch with a bisexual flag band that he wears a lot. And he likes to throw in bi stuff or rainbow stuff wherever he can. Things like the soles of his shoes being rainbow or his jacket being lined with bi colors.

Daisy Johnson: She does her make up in bi and demi colors, but that's mainly during pride month. Normally, she has a bracelet like the one I had pictured with Loki. She has a T-shirt that says something like "Inhuman, Queer, & Proud" she got because there are starting to be queer inhuman groups.

Jemma Simmons: She'll dress in pink, purple, and blue as a subtle bi flag. In June, Daisy does her make up sometimes. Jemma has cute little decorations she'll have, like a cup in bi colors to hold pencils or her phone's wallpaper as a cool pink to blue ombre with stars or something. Her and Fitz have matching bi wristbands someone got them as a wedding gift.

Leopold Fitz: He has the bi wristband same as Jemma. Other than that? I don't see him being the type of person to do all sorts of flag or pride or whatever stuff. He's heteroromantic bisexual, that's all. Part of it is that he doesn't want to be given crap for being varioriented ("you can f*ck a guy but not fall in love" sort of bs), but even if he was biromantic and bisexual, it's just not really his thing, so have a bunch of random colorful things shouting to the world that he's queer when he prefers to keep this very, very private.

Steve Rogers: Steve has bi and rainbow gear, but it's not something he normally wears. More of a pride thing.

Carol Danvers: She changes her suit to the lesbian flag for pride month! Outside of that, she seems like a person to wear lesbian flag socks. Which is totally random and idk if those even exist, but I get the vibes.

Peter Parker: MJ bought him some bi pins that he has saved in his room. He has some general mspec ones he wears around, that make him look supportive of hims omnisexual girlfriend, and he also can be secretly proud of his bisexuality. He also has an mspec solidarity shirt he only wears at home, with MJ, with Ned, or with Tony. It has bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, omnisexual, abrosexual, and other flags and has some phrase about them all being friendly.

MJ Watson: She'd wear lots of omnisexual and mspec pins. Omni for her, and mspec for her and Peter. She'd have a pair of black doc martens that she doesn't wear often but have rainbow laces. She also has a plaid shirt with the omnisexual colors.

Tess: Again, sad day, she doesn't really have anything for pride.

Sam Wilson: Most of his stuff is rainbow things. He was pretty certain he was queer but didn't know in what way, so he only got rainbow stuff for a long time. And he isn't in a spot where he's comfortable to come out as aromantic, so he just says he's queer. But he has an aro flag on the boat, and a tiny little aro flag magnet he keeps on the wings.

Mantis: Gamora gave her a bunch of whatever the galaxy terms to be ace stuff.

Nebula: Someone on Earth would buy her this shirt as a joke.

And the tank top, and the mug, and the short sleeved shirt, and the 3 quarters sleeved shirt, and the hoodie, and anything they can find with this.

That same person also gets a million things (this time including a bumper sticker they put on her ship) with this design or similar.

Vision: Dude can literally make his own clothes pop out of nowhere. He makes himself a non-binary cape sometimes. He also has a couple of enby gifts from Wanda

Previous | Next

20 notes · View notes

arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (Pt 2)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Time Frame: Right before the League meets Overhaul

Additional notes: I took some liberty in giving Reader a backstory that fits in with the BNHA world and is important for the story. If that bothers you, I apologize - just think of it as role playing! Also, this’ll probably be broken up into 8-10 parts, roughly. JUST KIDDING - this has now turned into an epic (roughly) 40 chapter series. Oops.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song: Cradles by Sub Urban

Part 1

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 2 - A Crack In The Armor

The pain came back, just as you said it would. What you didn’t mention was that the numbness would gradually fade away. It might sound nice to some, but Dabi hated it. He felt like he was driving towards a cliff in slow motion, waiting for the crash, unable to turn the wheel. He had no control. He hated this feeling of helplessness and traded it for anger instead. Why did he even ask for your help to begin with?

His answer was given to him as soon as your quirk’s effect finally stopped. Dabi stared angrily at the empty pill bottles. It was amazing how quickly the brain adapted, his body acting as if he’d never had to deal with his damaged nerves before. He had half a mind to hunt you down and demand you take care of it. He didn’t, of course, pride the deciding factor. The scars were his, a series of choices made, a patchwork flag he wore into battle. They were his burden and a reminder of his fight; he wasn’t going to give that up so easily. Still, he couldn’t deny the temptation that surrounded him like a cloud, even if all he did was entertain the thought.

Dabi waited all day for your visit until finally your characteristic knock on his door rewarded his patience. He stood from his bed and cooled his features into their typical mask before opening the door. There you stood, keen eyes already assessing him.

“Can I come in?” you asked. Like the day before, he stepped aside just enough to let you pass. He had discovered yesterday that he liked having your presence close to him… it gave his pulse a little rush. He caught a whiff of your shampoo as you gingerly passed him and felt the softness of your shirt as it brushed against his own like a whisper. His grip on the doorknob tightened.

As soon as Dabi closed the door behind you, you got started. You were determined to be strictly business. “How’re you feeling?” you asked, keeping your tone even, the perfect balance of concern and professionalism. Dabi wanted to laugh. Were you always this serious?

“Like shit.” He grinned. “That quirk of yours is potent stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let a grin escape in response to his candid words, a fracture in your hastily built armor. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment.” He stated.

You felt your throat go tight. Stay on task. Stay on task. You cleared your throat slightly as you averted your eyes from him. “Well, let’s have a look.”

With a little less flair than yesterday, he removed his jacket like before, followed by his shirt as he turned around to display his back for you.

You could see that the bandages were seeped through. You had laid them on thick since you knew you wouldn’t be able to check on him as often as you’d like – he was still going out to do Shigaraki’s bidding and you had others to look after as well. You were planning on seeing him daily, but it looked like he’d need more.

Your little checkups were far from over. You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about that. You honestly weren’t sure what you thought about it yourself.

“I’m going to use my quirk and then change your bandages. I’ll check on you again tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“How often do we have to do this?” Dabi asked. His tone was difficult to decipher. Concerned? Annoyed? …Hopeful?

You cleared your throat again, desperate for a glass of water, as you began to remove the soiled gauze. “I’ll probably visit you twice daily for the first week, then reduce it to once a day or every couple of days for the second week. We’ll see where we are by then. It’ll take at least a few weeks before it’s fully healed. That’s only if you’re good though, and don’t go out and use your quirk for a bit.”

“I won’t make any promises.” He replied.

You sighed. “Well, at least your honest. Really though, you should at least try not to use it.”

“That’s up to the Crusty Hands.” Dabi replied. “He’s the one sending me out there to try to recruit members and gather intel.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname for Shigaraki. “Couldn’t you ask him for a break then?” You asked, your head tilted. “No point in making you hurt yourself over lackey work.”

The question was innocent enough, but Dabi turned around and stared at you like you grew a second head. Ask Shigaraki for time off? The thought made Dabi bristle for so many reasons.

You quickly caught on to his shift in mood and tried to repair your previous statement. “Look. I get it if that’s an issue for you. Maybe I could be the one to ask him. I can make it a medical request, since I’m the healer.”

That option almost seemed worse. He didn’t need to be excused from his duties like a child with a sick note. And he most certainly didn’t want you putting your neck out for him.

“Look, I know your still kinda new here. So, let me break this down. There is no ‘sick time’ in the League of Villains. No vacation, no hazard pay. We all got our jobs to do.”

Now you bristled, your shoulders tensing up and your arms crossed in front of you defensively. “Yeah. And my job is to make sure you crazy idiots don’t kill yourselves before we complete our mission. You know, the big long-term one where we change the world, not the pointless dirty work Shigaraki’s got you doing.”

“Pointless dirty work? That dirty work is how we reach that long-term goal, sweetheart.” Dabi grinned devilishly. “I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about how we do things here.”

“Just the part about using your talents for recruiting street thugs. Most of them are idiots that can’t tell Stain’s message from an anarchist bumper sticker.”

You were right, of course. Dabi chuckled. You were more interesting than he thought.

“Look,” you said, your voice quieter as you uncrossed your arms. “We’re all in this together come hell or high water, and I’m really hoping we can all see it through to the end. If that means taking some time off to let your body recover, then I’d think that’d be worth doing.”

Dabi stared at you silently while something tightened in his chest. Your need to hold everyone together like glue was admirable and almost… endearing. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew there was a high likelihood they wouldn’t all see the end of this, if the end ever even comes. Did you know that but stubbornly hold onto your optimism? Or were you really that naïve that you believed there was a chance that everyone could come out unscathed? When the worst happens – which it inevitably will – will you blame yourself?

The thought bothered him.

For the first time Dabi’s mask slipped, and for the briefest of moments you could see the pity in his eyes.

“Thanks for the concern doll, but I got it under control.” Dabi said, his voice unusually calm. “Besides, if I took time off every time I hurt myself with my quirk, then I’d never be any use.”

Between his eyes and his words, there was no room for discussion, so you let the topic drop.

You let out a defeated sigh. “Well then, let’s get started.” You placed your hands on his back.

Once again, the sweet balm of your touch spread across his skin, bringing back the relief he had missed. His body responded instinctively. His breathing slowed; his muscles relaxed. He closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation. You noticed the slightest drop in his shoulders and a pang of sympathy washed over you like a wave. You wished you could do more for him, but you had to conserve your quirk for the others too.

You cleaned his wound quickly and applied fresh bandages without any more talk. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Without missing a beat, he pulled his shirt back on while you packed your items.

You turned to leave, but paused for a moment before turning back slightly, your eyes bravely locking with his. “Try to get some rest… it’ll help your body heal faster.”

Dabi didn’t respond with his usual quips. Instead, his electric blue eyes stared at you in a way that made your blood pulse in your ears and the air burn in your lungs. You stood captivated for a moment, locked in his gaze, before finding your way out of the maze of his eyes and left his room, hearing the quiet click of the door behind you.

Without a word, Dabi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. His brow furrowed in confusion.

This was supposed to be a game. A game of walls and mazes and misdirection. He was the ‘Asshole,’ full of snarky comments and flirty quips all while withholding his true self. He didn’t need friends, just coworkers so he could carry out his mission and bring Stain’s vision to life before his quirk killed him. But your magic hands dismantled his walls, allowing you to walk right in and get in his head with your stubborn heart. He had cared. For the briefest of moments, he cared.

It was his game. Why did he feel like he was losing?

______________________________________________________________

Part 3

__________________________________________________

Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025

#Dabi x reader #Dabi #Dabi fanfic #bnha #mha #bnha imagine #soft dabi #fluff #slow burn #pining #long talks #intimacy #dabi is a todoroki #touya todoroki #dabi is touya #angst #trauma

365 notes · View notes

altomer · 4 years

Text

Kuuipo Chapter 1

Paring: Steve Mcgarrett x reader

Fandom: Hawaii 5-0

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Song: American Woman - Lenny Kravitz

Request: None

Outfit

I gripped the steering wheel, watching as my knuckles turned white. I sat outside the palace. My nerves were on edge. I didn’t understand why I was so nervous. It was completely stupid. I took a deep breath and swung the door open. The gravel crunched under my boots. I tugged at the blue air force t-shirt that hung on my shoulders. I glanced at my watch. 10:15, perfect. I smiled to myself as I made my way to the door.

“You're late.” A man said not even bothering to turn around.

“Actually, commander, I'm 15 minutes early.” I didn’t even try and hide the frustration in my voice. He was the SEAL I was sure of that much, The man swung around as the rest of the team looked at me. His eyes widened for a second before he raised his eyebrows. He was attractive, I couldn’t lie. He has green eyes and dark hair. He was tall and well built. The black shirt he wore hugged his arms

“You're the OSI Agent?” The disbelief in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Any attraction to him went out the window.

“Is there something wrong.” He shook his head. “When they said OSI I thought of someone more-”

“Male?”

“Taller.”

I didn’t know if I should be more offended or less offended. I shook my head letting out a sigh. I passed him to the rest of the team. I held my hand out to the closest person.

“First Lieutenant L/N.”

“Danny Williams.” I let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t all stuck up assholes.

The rest of the team was nice enough. Definitely not as bad as Mcgarrett. I looked to Danny

“So what do we have?” He went to hand me a file only to have it snatched out of his hand. I clenched my jaw. This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Lets see what you’ve got Princess.”

“Is this really time for your pissing contest Steve?”

“No,” I said, snatching the file from him.”I’ll do it.” I flipped open the folder 4 pictures sat on top. I set the file down, spreading the photos out.

“The girls are all around the same age, brown hair, blue eyes.” I thought aloud. I moved the pictures looking to the Missing persons reports instead. “They all went missing around the same area at the same time.” I continued deeper into the file. I furrowed my brows bringing my hand up to my mouth. I chewed on the side of my thumb thinking. “Sex-Trafficing? No-” I shook my head.

“Why not?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. I could tell that’s what they were thinking. “There wouldn’t be a pattern like this. I tapped the map that was in the file.

“Could be a coincidence.” Danny said.

“No,” I said “Me running into you at the store is a coincidence.” I grabbed the map and the girls pictures and walked to a cork board. “This,” I pinned the pictures up “This is a pattern.” I turned to face the team. “I think you have a serial killer.” I crossed my arms waiting for a response. Danny clapped slowly, before pointing to Steve.

“You my friend just got your ass handed to you.” The SEAL grumbled grabbing his own copy of the file. He slid a gun and badge across the table to me.

“Kono, L/N go talk to the first victims' family and see what you can find.” he said without looking up from the file. I nodded smiling to Kono as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“I’ll drive.”

As Kono and I pulled into the driveway a man ran out of the house screaming at a teenager who now stood on the grass holding his hand up.

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” He yelled pointing at the boy. The man whipped a gun out of his waistband. I heard a woman scream from the house. I snatched my gun and jumped out of the Bronco.

“5-0 drop the gun!” I yelled. the man stood pointing the gun. The boy was on his knees crying.

“He’s the reason my Jamie is dead!” The man’s hands were shaking. I holstered my gun and take a step forward holding my hands up.

“I can only imagine how you’re feeling.” His eyes flicked to me. “You're an Airman right.” I said pointing to the two flags flying in his yard. “I am too brother.” Tears flooded his eyes and he dropped the gun. I rushed forward and kicked the gun towards Kono. I turned to the man, tears were rushing down his face. The pain from his loss over taking him. “I promise I will find who killed your daughter.” His eyes met mine and he brought his hand up to a shaky salute. I gave him a sad smile before returning the salute.

Once we finished talking to the family Kono and I climbed into the Bronco. I leaned my head against the steering wheel.

“That was amazing!” She said looking at me.

“It was nothing.” I said my voice low. It tore me apart to see the way that man was hurting. Maybe I wasn’t ready to work again.

“That was some of the best deescalation I have ever seen.” I hummed pushing myself up. I turned the key starting the Bronco. I pulled out of the driveway as Kono’s phone rang. I watched the road but all I could think about was that man’s face. He lost his little girl, his daughter.

“They need us back at base.” I nodded flicking on my turn signal.

“You did your best.” I nodded again, swallowing the bile in my throat.

As we walked back into the office, all eyes were on us.

“How’d it go?”

“Ask Y/N?” I knew Kono was trying to get me out of this shell I had reverted into but that definitely didn’t help. I turned on my heel storming out of the hall. I heard heavy footsteps following behind me. Cursing under my breath I pushed a door open. Tears ran down my cheeks. I ran a hand through my hair. I remember when the C-17 landed. It was just me and a coffin. The girl who I was sent to save. The way her family looked at me. The anger. The pain. It was the same way that man looked at that boy. Who was I to survive when their baby girl wasn’t coming home. I heard the door open and quickly wiped the tears. The door closed and the light above me flicked on. Steve stood in front of me. Well as far as he could stand since I had chosen to hide in a closet apparently.

“Why are you crying in a closet out of all places?” His voice was calm and smooth unlike earlier and I wanted a hug so bad. No. Get yourself together. I leaned my head against the wall.

“I know why you were discharged.” My head shot up. No one was supposed to know that it had been cleared. “Are you ok?” His voice wasn’t pitiful. “If you can’t finish this case it’s fine.” I looked into his eyes and I remembered my promise to the father.

“The father,” I said clearing my throat, I swiped my hand across my cheek catching the stray tear that had escaped my eye. “The pain of losing his daughter.” I shook my head.

“How often does this happen?” He asked. I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. I shook my head.

“The survivors' guilt, the panic attacks.” I shook my head.

“I’d hardly call this a panic attack.”

“Answer the question.”

“Not as often as you think.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Why do you care?”

I saw a look cross his face. I couldn’t quite place it. It bugged me how easily he could read me. He grabbed my arms gently.

“My team is my family,” He paused. “And even if you’ve been here for less than a day you are a part of that team, that family.” I looked into his eyes. I let out a shaky breath. I was on the edge. One push and I’d be over it. “What happened was not your fault.” His words hit me like a brick. No one had told me that since it had happened. No, no one really believed it enough to say it. Even if they would have I wouldn’t have believed them. But from him it was different. That was the push. I felt myself falling, not literally but I was spiraling. My shoulders shook as I let the tears fall. Steve pulled me to his chest.

“She shouldn’t have died.” I cried my voice barely a whimper. “He killed her to taunt me.” Steve shushed me, rubbing circles into my back. “This is so similar.”

“I know.”

Something inside me clicked as my sobs slowly quieted. I stepped away from Steve, rubbing my hands over my face. At this point I was really glad I had decided not to wear makeup. I had made up my mind. “Let’s get this bastard before he hurts anyone else.” I saw Steve’s face fall. I shoved the closet door open and ran back into the office. All eyes were back on me.

“So?” I asked, Danny pointed to the corkboard where a fifth picture was pinned next to the map.

“They found her body 3 hours ago.” I grabbed her missing persons report.

“A new girl goes missing every two days.” I looked at the pictures. “Can you find me every missing person’s report for anyone who matches this description?” Kono nodded and moved to her laptop. Steve had resumed his place at the head of the table. I felt his eyes on me.

“Has anyone talked to the vic’s family?” I asked, Steve shook his head. I nodded.

“I’ll go.” I started towards the door. Steve followed behind me. I didn’t question it. I had a feeling there was a piece we were missing. I pulled myself up into the Bronco.

“This is yours?” Steve asked, amused. I grinned as the engine roared to life.

“Yep, My baby.” I ran my hand over the steering wheel. A chuckle escaped his throat. The feelings from earlier were nothing but a memory at the moment.

“You got something to say commander?” I nudged his arm with my elbow. He shook his head a smirk on his face. That smirk was something else. It could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No.”

As soon as I saw the marine bumper sticker I realized what we were missing. My stomach fell.

“Mcgarrett.” I said. He looked at me as I pointed out the bumper sticker. He looked at the sticker and back to me.

“You don’t think.” I nodded. He was targeting Military families.

“I’ll call Kono.” I mumbled pulling my phone out of my pocket. I was glad the woman had the foresight to put her number in my phone. Steve jumped out of the car.

“I’ll go talk to them,”

I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

“Kono.”

“Hey It’s Y/N, I need you to check if the other vics are military brats.”

It didn’t surprise me when Kono gave me the news that the girls were in fact from military families. Steve climbed into the Bronco, his mood solem. He looked at me expectantly. I nodded.

“Shit.” he grumbled. His phone rang in his pocket as he answered it he put it on speaker phone.

“Another girl was just abducted from Monoa Park!” Danny’s panicked voice cut through the speaker. I threw the car in reverse and flicked on the newly equipped sirens. Steve looked at me.

“Thank the governor.”

I shot around a corner.

“Danny did she have her cell on her.” I asked

“Kono’s working on that.”

“Car description.” Steve asked, his eyes wandering from car to car.

“Black SUV, either a chevy or a ford.” I spotted one ahead. I hit Steve in the arm. He turned the siren off as I pulled up behind him.

“We got a hit!” Kono’s voice echoed through the phone. My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I reached for it as the light turned green. The SUV shot forward. Steve grabbed the phone from my hand as I trailed them.

“That’s them.”

I nodded as I backed off.

“We’re on our way.” Danny called hanging up. My hands were shaking against the leather of the steering wheel. I turned down the road that the SUV had taken a few seconds prior. Shots rang out from the car. They bounced of the hood of the car.

“Shit!”

“Get down!” Steve yelled. I ducked down snatching my gun and stepped on the gas. Steve returned fire. I flipped on the siren. “Fuck it!”

The SUV swung around a corner into a dirt trail. Gravel flew as I slammed the accelerator. Their bumper was inches from the hood. I growled as I slammed into their bumper. They fishtailed on the trail struggling to regain traction.

“Back off.” Steve said as he reached over the seat to grab a ballistic vest he had thrown back there earlier.

We flew into a clearing bullets racing toward us. I slammed on the breaks. I heard sirens racing up the trail behind us. Steve jumped out using the Bronco as cover. I crawled across the seats. I fell to the ground sending shots in the direction of the SUV. I looked around the front of the Bronco as they pulled two girls out of the back.

“They have two!” I yelled. I brought my gun up and shot two of the three goons. One of the girls ran forward.

It felt like everything slowed as the last man brought his gun up and aimed it towards the girl.

BANG

I watched as the girl crumpled to the ground. Steve whipped around and shot twice. The last girl ran towards me, throwing herself into my arms. I hugged her but couldn’t tear my eyes from the girl on the ground. Two cars flew into the clearing. Danny jumped out of the car and rushed towards us. I stared at the body. I felt the girl let go only to be ushered away by Danny. I felt Steve place his hand on my back and lead me to the side of the Bronco as the officers covered her body. All I could think about was her scared face. If I was quicker, If I was smarter, If I was… If I was…

“Y/N.”

“L/N”

“Princess.”

“Y/N” I felt someone’s hands on either side of my face. I looked into a pair of green eyes. They were full of worry, full of sorrow. I closed my eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself.” His hands were still on my face. Why was he touching me? Why did I like it? “You saved her.” he took a deep “You saved one person that is not failure.”

Steve drove back to the palace.

“I’ll be back.” He jumped out of the car slamming the door shut. I stared out the windshield. The glass was cracked in the bottom corner. I leaned forward running my fingers over the splintered glass. I’m thoroughly surprised that the entire window wasn’t shattered. My body felt numb but my mind was racing. I pushed my back against the seat pulling open the glovebox. I pulled out the pack of gum and popped two sticks in my mouth. Chewing on something calmed me down.

The drivers door opened and Steve pulled himself up.

“Gum?” I offered. He nodded and took a stick. Which surprised me he didn’t seem like a gum guy. I looked out the window as we drove, The ocean sparkled under the moon. I didn’t recognize where we were but I didn’t bother asking. Hawaii was beautiful at night.

He pulled into a driveway before making his way to my side of the Bronco.

“Where are we?”

“You’re staying with me.” He held his hand out for me. I didn’t argue. Any rational thought went out the window as he led me inside. His house was nice. As soon as I walked through the door I saw the ocean on the other side of the house. He led me up the stairs, my feet grew heavy. “You can sleep here.” he opened the door to a bedroom. “There is a shower in there.” he pointed to a door on the opposite wall. “I’ll find you something to wear.” I nodded and started towards the shower.

“Hey Steve.” He turned to look at me. “Thank you.” He gave me his signature smile.

“Your welcome princess.”

I woke up surprisingly comfortable. A ray of sun shone through the blinds. The smell of the ocean and bacon pulled at my senses, I groaned as I opened my eyes. Where was I? The clock read 10:35. I pushed the comforter off and set my feet on the hardwood. I opened the door and stumbled through the hallway and down the stairs. I heard muffled voices from the kitchen so decided to start there.

“Did you hear what happened when she was with Kono?”

“No, I’ll ask her about it.” Steve’s voice cut in. I rounded the corner to see Danny sitting at the island, he raised his coffee.

“Morning Babe.” I raised my eyebrow at the nickname.

“He calls everyone babe.” Steve cut in.

“Nice shirt.” I looked down to see a SEALS shirt. I pinched it and pulled it away from my skin.

“What did you do to get me in this?” I muttered in fake disgust. Steve looked at me and laughed. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“You put that on yourself princess.” I dropped the shirt and slumped into the stool next to Danny.

“In all seriousness,” I started causing Danny and Steve to look at me. “I won’t be like this after every case.”

“We know.” Danny said, bumping my shoulder with his.

“What?”

“It was too much too soon.” Steve said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me and Danny.

“But you were amazing.” Danny said stuffing pancakes into his mouth. “We need you on the team.” I looked across the island to Steve who smiled.

“Welcome to the team princess.”

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #steve x reader #hawaii 5-0 #Hawaii 5-O imagines #hawaii 5-0 imagines #hawaii 5-0 headcanons #hawaii 5-0 x reader #hawaii #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine

68 notes · View notes

a-lil-bi-furious · 3 years

Note

I’m gonna ask for two characters, is that okay?? 🥺 Kira Yukimura and Scott McCall, but if you inly want to do one of them that’s okay!! 🧡

Of course you can!! Thank you! 💕 And you even sent in my wonderful children!🥺🥰 Scott McCall:

Headcanon for their sexuality/romantic orientation/gender identity (I’m adding on because I want to)?

Listen, this boy is so pan. In my mind, Scott is just so filled with love for people, and I don’t think someone’s gender or sex would matter to him for feelings or sexual attraction. Is it pretty unexpected when he's attracted to people of many different genders? Sure. But mostly that’s because he hasn’t given his sexuality or romantic orientation much thought. They've just always existed and he’s run with it. He’s pretty comfortable in his gender identity as a boy, but not closed off to questioning it.

I can’t remember who I first saw this headcanon from, but I also really like the idea of quoiromantic Scott who can’t tell the difference between platonic and romantic love, he just loves. Why does he have to do it differently, y’know? Who says he can’t kiss his friends and hold their hands and express his love for them in those ways?? How is he meant to feel different between how he loves who he’s dating (if he's dating) and how he loves his friends? He doesn’t, so ??? (Also, as a side note, I am also a big believer in polyamorous Scott because he has chemistry and good shipping foundation with pretty much everyone, definitely seems open to loving more than one person, and he, Allison, and Isaac were clearly all dating each other no I am not taking notes at this time)

Have they come out? If so, how? How did their friends/family take their coming out?

Eventually he does. Scott thought it was going to be a big deal and was so nervous about it he kind of just....tucked it away deep inside where he hides all of his trauma and feelings from people. He doesn’t do anything flashy, but when he sits Melissa down he’s so serious and stressed about it she’s convinced he’s about to tell her he hit someone with the car and has a body in the trunk. She’s relieved to find out that is not the case, and reacts with a good natured “Honey, this isn’t a surprise. It’s a big deal because it’s a big part of you, and I’m happy you trust me enough to share this. But it isn’t surprising.”

The pack reacts exactly the same way his mother did, which really makes Scott wonder if he was the only one oblivious to it for so long. (He was.) They’re all very supportive, and he seems so much happier once it’s officially out in the open.

Sheriff Stilinski is a bit confused, but Stiles writes all the different labels on sticky notes, sticks them onto chess pieces, and sits Noah down in front of the chess board, just like he did with supernatural creatures (I think that’s what he does? Doesn’t he do that??) After, Scott kind of wishes he hadn’t--mostly because listening to Stiles’ convoluted explanation and bickering with his confused father made for one of the most frustrating two hours of Scott’s life.

Do they go to Pride/With whom?

Absolutely! Especially given I consider most of them as part of the lgbtqia+ community (and regardless they’re all allies), they make a pack event of it. The younger pack members don’t always join because they kind of have their own thing going, but the older/core group--Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Kira, Malia, Danny, Isaac, maybe Theo if they're on good terms--all meet up, rotating through which state/city parade they go to each year (because they’ve all scattered for college and jobs and such). They’ve convinced Derek and Braeden to come a few times, but Derek hates the big crowds and Braeden gets way too much joy out of making him get his face painted. After the parade, they do a different activity all together each year--ranging from game/movie nights to club nights to way too competitive paintballing in the woods--just, generally, something a little more personal than all the big parties around.

(If Allison, Erica, and Boyd were alive, they’d be there with them too 💜)

Do they show their colors? (Flag-wise)

For Pride, Scott paints the Pansexual flag in cuffs around his right bicep, directly mirroring his tattoo on the left.

Kira Yukimura:

Headcanon for their sexuality/romantic orientation/gender identity (I'm adding on because I want to)?

I feel like Kira sits comfortably beneath the bisexual umbrella, but has a hard time figuring out whether or not she has any kind of gender preference sexually. Gender doesn't really factor into her romantic attraction, so panromantic seems to fit. I also feel like Kira is nonbinary, uses She/They pronouns, and eventually settles on genderfluid as a good way to describe how she feels. She’s usually not uncomfortable with people referring to her as a girl and doesn’t mind being perceived as one a lot of the time, but doesn’t totally feel like a girl and isn’t sure what gender fits y’know? What she identifies with shifts around.

Have they come out? If so, how? How did their friends/family take their coming out?

After a long and confusing identity crisis, yes. There’s a lot of nervous babbling involved. She talks way too quickly and keep interrupting herself because she isn’t sure she’s explaining it right, but Ken gently interrupts and calms her down with a “Kira, your mother and I love and support you however you are, no matter how much or how little that changes. We want to hear all about it. That doesn’t mean we want you to run out of air.” She breathes and collects herself, then dives back in, explaining a bit slower this time, but no less rambly. Noshiko’s never really seen the point in rigid definitions anyhow after living so many different lifetimes and experiencing so much fluidity in many aspects of her own life. Ken is just happy his daughter is happy, good-naturedly pokes fun at her like he always does, and later that night has a bit of a research-prompted gender crisis of his own.

Do they go to Pride/With whom?

Yes! The rambling above with Scott also applies here. The first year Kira goes, she goes separately with her parents and meets up with the pack later. Ken is really enthusiastic about it and provides lots of historical facts about the pride festival’s origins and evolution throughout the day. He makes T-shirts for everyone in the pack and buys a few too many bumper stickers. Noshiko is much more low-key about it, but is happy to be there to support Kira and enamored with how overboard Ken goes.

Do they show their colors? (Flag-wise)

Yes!! Kira has a lot of fun putting together colorful outfits to reflect her identity with multi-colored fishnets and color coded skirts and jackets with patches and of course her kickass sword-belt to tie it all together. She really enjoys the freedom of switching up those colorful outfits any time her labels shift, too.

(Send me a character/ship and I’ll answer these questions!)

#Ask games #Pride asks #Scott McCall #Kira Yukimura #jamesqueerpotter #thanks for asking friend!! <33 #will I ever learn to not answer with essays?#probably not but we can dream I guess

6 notes · View notes

profoundlyxbonded · 4 years

Text

Bi Dean ficlet.

I filled a (my own) prompt for @castielsgirl86 - Dean comes out as bi. It’s still meh, but I’ll leave the slightly reworked version here for bi awareness/representation week. AUish and the Destiel is only hinted at, but I tagged it anyway.

In the Bunker’s kitchen, Dean stood by the coffeemaker and poured the start of his second cup into his brand-new mug.

8:20 A.M.

Sam hadn’t appeared yet; neither had Cas, but Dean figured Sam was out for his usual run, albeit a little late, or maybe was still asleep. That would be a little unusual, but not unheard of. Jack was awake in his room watching something on Netflix or looking for cases and would show up sooner or later. Cas was almost certainly still asleep. Turned out the former angel was not a morning person. He’d only been up and around before 10 on a few occasions since becoming human.

Dean finished filling up the mug and walked over with it to the table. He sat down and sipped the coffee while beginning to think about breakfast.

After a few minutes, Sam walked in, going straight for the coffeemaker himself and putting the canvas bag that he’d been carrying along side it on the counter after a quick glance at Dean. “Morning,” he greeted his brother. He quickly took his own mug from the overhead cabinet and poured himself some coffee. “You’re awake early,” he commented as he made his way to the table.

“Morning,” Dean answered as Sam sat down opposite him. “Fell asleep early last night and slept right through until about an hour ago,” he shrugged. “You have your run?”

“Yeah, and shower, then I got breakfast. Muffins, and plenty of them, ‘cause Jack..” The Nephilim could get away with eating an obscene amount and had a habit of doing just that.

“Great.”

Sam just grinned, and Dean didn’t like it. “Sunrise bakery’s finest. Oat bran, flaxseed, and carob, so not so great for you.”

“Sammy...” Dean sighed, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “You’re a monster. A vegan monster.”

“Not actually vegan and you know it, just health conscious. They happen to have really good muffins.”

Dean scoffed and took a sip of his cooling coffee.

“New mug?” Sam asked, though Dean knew he’d probably noticed it, and more importantly, the colors on it already. Pink, purple, and blue. The bi flag colors.

“Got it with the mail yesterday.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam nodded. “And..uh..is there anything you’d like to say, Dean?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Dean said evenly. Sam had never mentioned anything, so they’d never talked about it like they were about to, but Dean knew that he knew. Still, it was going to be hard to actually say the words. “I’m... bi, okay,” he managed.

Sam didn’t say anything right away, but a small smile played across features. “Okay. Yeah, I’ve known. Only surprise here is you actually admitting it. I mean, DUH, come on, man...You’re not exactly cool about it,” he chuckled.

“Right,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Still fantastic with the ladies, though. But yeah, you’ve been there and seen me. It’s just something that happens. I can’t help it, so...”

“Sheriff’s Deputies in particular? Or just guys in uniform? Or with a lab coat and stethoscope and cowboy boots? Now that I think of it, cowboy getup is kind of uniform, too..”

“Shut up with the cowboy thing, alright. That era just happens to be interesting, okay?.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look,” Dean said, becoming more serious . “This doesn’t really change anything. I still love women, and it’s not like I’m going to be hanging flags or putting bumper stickers on the Impala ...”

Sam smiled a little at that.

“It’s just that if I check out some good-looking dude or even flirt a little, I don’t want to feel ashamed or that I have to hide it from you or Cas, or Jack.” Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything else will happen. Not even sure if I’d want it to.”

“Okay. The only thing this means is that no server is safe from you now.”

“Well, with my luck lately they’re more likely to be interested in Cas,” Dean shook his head.

At that moment a still sleepy looking Cas came into the kitchen, wearing a new Pink Floyd Dark Side t-shirt and pair of Dean’s old jeans And damn if this new look really did suit him, Dean thought. ”What about me?” he asked with a grunt and a look between the brothers as he headed to the coffeemaker.

“Dean was just saying that lately you’ve been stealing his action when we go into a restaurant,” Sam answered.

Cas took his own ‘morning, sunshine’ mug out of the cabinet. “Action?”

“The waitresses and waiters hitting on you lately,” Dean said. “Man, what is up with that?”

“Well, it has been noted that I could be considered devastatingly handsome,” Cas replied as he was pouring the coffee into the mug.

Sam tried unsuccessfully to fight a snort of amusement as Dean shot him a questioning look.

Cas walked back to the table with his mug and sat down next to Sam. “No, I really have no idea. It’s a bit puzzling,” he shrugged.

“You were right, actually. Just objectively speaking, you chose an attractive vessel, Cas,” Sam said.

Cas seemed even more puzzled, tilting his head in a mannerism that had stayed even though he was human now. “I chose James Novak because he prayed for it. Physical appearance had nothing to do with it.”

“The consensus is you’re hot -” Dean said, but whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by Jack’s appearance.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted the group cheerfully. “What’s up?” He headed over to the counter to get his typical sugar loaded cereal.

Sam shot him a disapproving look. “There’s muffins.”

Jack glanced at the bag nearby. “Oh. Later,” he replied.

“Uh,”... Dean started as he watched him grab a bowl from the cabinet. “ Sam and I were just talking about something, and you and Cas should know, too.”

Jack turned around and looked with apprehension from Dean to Sam. “Is it something bad? Because mostly whenever you say things like that, it’s not good.”

“ Relax, kid,” Dean replied with a little chuckle, “No, it’s nothing bad. Just that,” he gestured to the mug in front of him, “I’m bi.”

“Oh, I know that term! That means you like both women and men,” Jack replied. “Cool,” he said, after a moment, and gave a little shrug.

“Yep, I do, but it goes no further than here, understood? I just wanted to be honest with you three about it.”

“It’s great that you felt you could, Dean,” Cas said. There was something in his tone that Dean couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, it is,” Jack added, then turned back to his Cookie Cookie Crunch

#awkward dean is awkward #dean is bi #destiel #ficlet #my fic #sam knows

35 notes · View notes

ihearthillary · 5 years

Text

Jim Wright and the military

Cashier: Military?

Me: <reflexively> Retired.

Cashier: thankwewferyersevich.

Me: <non-committal grunt>

Cashier does cashier things, then..

Cashier: No, I really mean it.

Me: <trying to be polite> Thanks. Appreciate it. I'm in a hurry here.

I wasn't, in a hurry. But I just wanted to buy my stuff. That's it.

Look, I didn't ask for the discount. The cashier noticed my haircut. And that's fine. Being a veteran should maybe be good for something other than a limp and a bad attitude, I guess, and I'm not such a jackass that I won't take a couple of bucks off the price. I'm not trying to be an ass and I'm proud enough of having served. I spent 20 years at it. I'm certainly not ashamed of who I am or bitter about it or disgruntled or PTSD'd or whatever. But, it's not the ONLY thing I am and right now I'm just buying parts for my sprinkler system and I don't want to be reminded of my military service, AGAIN, for the tenth time today by yet another random cashier.

I'm not offended, so much as just tired of the ubiquitous inanity of being thanked for my service over and over. I got it. You're welcome. Let's move the hell on now. Please.

But, it wasn't to be.

Cashier: I don't think the military is appreciated enough in this country.

Me:

Cashier: It's just a shame the way the military is treated.

Me:

Cashier: You guys deserve...

Me: Just, goddamn, man, stop. Just stop. You don't think the military is appreciated in this country? Seriously? There are TWO national holidays dedicated to the military and I don't know how many state holidays. None for teachers or doctors or peacemakers. But two for the military and they're trying to turn all the rest of them into some statement on military service too. Every town in this country suddenly has some sort of park or monument dedicated to veterans. There are parades and fireworks and TV shows. There are TWO Executive departments of our government dedicated to the military. TWO. We spend more than 50% of the national budget on the military. Every car has one of those idiotic magnets on the back of it, or some sort of bumper sticker. I can see THREE of them from here. Every goober in this store is wearing some sort of military shirt with eagles and guns and flags on it. We idolize the military. It's a goddamned fetish! <I might have been shouting by this point> What the hell are you even talking about?

Cashier: Well, liberals are...

Me: Just stop. Fucking stop. Give me my receipt.

He was really young and, yes, YES, I should have been more patient and maybe ... I don't know. It's not my job to deprogram these damned zombies and detox the republican bullshit out of their systems.

The military isn't appreciated in this country? Fuck me.

If only education, healthcare, the environment, or PEOPLE, were "unappreciated" half so much.

#military #budget #holidays #appreciation #tell it like it is

20 notes · View notes

drunklander · 6 years

Text

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 402

It shouldn’t be surprising when I say this post is going to be less jokey than last week. If that’s not your jam, I recommend you stop reading now and maybe just sing “Everyone is Garbage” to the tune of Everything is Awesome while you instead go watch the entirety of Underground, or the Rosa Parks episode of Doctor Who.

I have to say, the producers on this show have said a lot of dumb shit in the past. From “Frank’s a good guy!” when he’s portrayed as being objectively awful on screen to “We don’t shy away from the horrors of the past because we’re so daring like that!” as a justification of their need to rape or assault everyone with a pulse. But one of the dumbest things in recent memory was at NYCC when Ron tried to claim that Outlander isn’t a political show.

Bullshit. Everything is political.

Using America the Beautiful to underscore how America didn’t, and still doesn’t, live up to the ideals we sing about in our romanticized versions of our history was political. Albeit in an overly heavy-handed way. Choosing to do an episode about slavery that focuses solely on white people and not the enslaved, who are just there as props for the white people’s moral dilemmas, is political. Choosing to show a lynching on screen in a time when Black people are still being killed in horrifying numbers at the hands of white people who are supposed to serve and protect, in a time when Black people have the police called on them while simply having a cookout in a public park, in a time when a white man can shoot an unarmed Black boy and walk away with no consequences, is political.

How we portray Black bodies on screen matters. And in this instance, a *very* white show chose to frame enslaved people as the props against which they highlight the guilt of the white protagonists.

I really do wish they included someone checking to see if Claire, who had a man killed right in front of her, was ok. But instead she just does the emotional labor of assuaging Jamie’s guilt over Bonnet’s attack. Because doing emotional labor is just what women do. *flips off the patriarchy and also the producers*

Young Ian’s awe at River Run, how it’s befitting a king, just highlights how he has no context for what the symbol of a big white plantation house means for so many people. That image is so laden with white supremacy it should immediately trigger a bad taste in any decent person’s mouth. Go ahead and @ me.

Jocasta Cameron is straight garbage, but Maria Doyle Kennedy is fucking amazing. A++ casting, show.

Not sure if the parallel of Jocasta telling Claire to call her Auntie and Claire telling Phaedre and Mary to call her Claire was intentional or not. Will have more to say about that in a second...

Honest question, if the dog who plays Rollo is so poorly trained that they have to cut him out of most scenes, why didn’t they get a different dog? Slash, I thought they’d been training this one since it was a puppy?

“Some River Run hospitality.” *feels nauseous*

I SO hope they don’t do the Jocasta and Ulysses having an affair storyline from the books. Please, show, don’t do it.

Show!Jocasta is so much more overtly garbage than book!Jocasta. This is a woman who had to flee her country after the Rising because of how horrible the English were to the Scots. Yet she doesn’t bat an eye at the concept of keeping human beings as property. Even with Jamie, she isn’t thinking of him as his own person, but rather someone she can make do her bidding and use for her own purposes. She should fucking know better, but the promise of benefiting from white supremacy is apparently more beneficial than actually having morals. Fuck you, Jocasta.

Claire’s palpable discomfort with being led around by an enslaved man juxtaposed with Jamie thinking nothing of it as he reminisces about his mother is just the start of me side-eyeing Jamie a lot this episode.

Don’t worry, I’m an equal opportunity side-eye’er. Claire’s gonna get her share of it too. Starting with her asking Phaedre and Mary to call her Claire.

Claire. You know all about chattel slavery. You know it’s wrong. You know how enslaved people are treated. Why the fuck would you ask Phaedre and Mary to put themselves in a position to potentially face serious consequences for not being “properly deferential” to a white person just to make yourself feel better about being complicit in their enslavement. She’s prioritizing making herself feel better at the expense of the potential well-being of Phaedre and Mary. JFC, Claire, do not endanger the marginalized people you claim to care about in the name of wokeness.

The skunk bit with Young Ian and John Quincy Myers is a tad off-putting tbh. I love that Ian wants to learn about Native Americans and looks to find similarities with them rather than think of them as “savages,” but like they’re having this convo while completely ignoring the fact that an enslaved boy is filling the tub and like immediately just start talking about banging Native American women. It just feels like they were stretching for some levity when the characters in this episode don’t deserve any.

Jamie: “Uncle Hector and you have achieved a great amount here, Auntie.” Me:

Jocasta: “I purchase them in lots, in order to keep those with children together.” Me:

“Over the years, I found my slaves to be more productive when treated with benevolence. You see, I don’t actually see them as people. I only treat them nicely so my property can reach its maximum potential output. I am a garbage human and the myth of the benevolent slave owner is just bullshit that white people tell themselves to absolve themselves of the fact that they benefit from white supremacy.”

That Jocasta can refer to the people she enslaves as both too expensive to be livestock and friends in almost the same breath is peak caucasity. Seriously, show!Jocasta is an irredeemably shit person.

Also Jamie being like oh well done, Auntie, you are so nice to these people makes me want to punch him in his dumbass face. Show!Jamie has been on my last nerve for a while tbh.

Like bro, you literally lived in a cave for fucking years because the English were out to fuck Scots up. You were in prison for fucking years. You served on an English estate, where you were raped, for fucking years. And now you see people who were ripped from their homes and families and brought across the sea against their will (hey remember your nephew, Ian?) and you’re like oh Auntie, you’re such a nice white lady. Go fuck yourself, Jamie.

Jocasta playing the woman card with Jamie to justify her needing him to get involved with the enslaved labor on her plantation is something Colum would be proud of.

And Jocasta being like hey, “Claire, you’ve been homeless for a hot minute, shower me in praise for how nice my slave-run house is as I ‘graciously’ let you stay here” is such a power move in the worst possible way. Colum and Dougal raise a glass from whatever afterworld they ended up in.

Claire, girl, why couch your opposition to slavery in the Quaker influence. Own your opinions on this. Take a fucking stand. There are things in life worth standing up for. This is fucking one of them.

Oh Jenny. I love that she wrote to Jocasta about Claire. But also last season still turned me the hell off from show!Jenny so really I don’t like that lady.

Fuck each and every one of these yuppie white men.

Aw, woke-ish!Ian. Yes, it was their land, but let’s please not think of the Native American women as sexual conquests like you were earlier. KThxBai.

Ok for real, after living at Leoch and scheming through Paris and then being fucked over by Bonnet, Jamie sure doesn't learn much about people being sneaky. How does he not see where Jocasta was going when she so readily positioned him in a position of authority on the plantation.

Jamie, bro, buying into the benevolent slave owner narrative is not a good look. And by not a good look, I mean you are a garbage person. I get that that’s the point, but still.

Ok so the book frames Campbell as a friend to the Frasers, and the show is trying to frame him as someone genuinely trying to look out for the Frasers’ best interest. But he has also resigned himself to the reality of his current situation with no desire to try to make things better since it would mean making a personal sacrifice. To which I say, fuck you very much, you coward.

Hi, I’m Der, and I’m of the opinion that if you are in a place of privilege and see bigotry and oppression taking place, it’s your duty to stand the fuck up and try to make a change.

“If we take the Tryon option, we don’t need to feel bad about slavery and can just bask in our white privilege on stolen Native American land and not have to deal with the consequences of accepting free land from the English, y’know, the people we hate, for almost a decade.” Cool, Jamie. Cool cool cool. Remember last episode when you were almost woke?

Claire acting naive about what’s going to happen to Rufus should seem out of character. She went back into the past knowing full well how things were there. She knew that if she went back, she’d be in a time where this was the reality. Yes, she thought she’d be in Scotland, but that’s just another sign of her fucking privilege. She was like oh, I’ll just be in Edinburgh and not have to consider slavery. Joe Abernathy did not deserve the shaft he got in season three and he does not deserve fucking peak-white-privilege-the-past-is-fine-because-it-doesn’t-really-affect-me Claire as his friend.

Scrub Nurse!Ian is literally the only positive part of this episode.

This entire scene of a room of white guys being like “we need to uphold the law!” makes me want to kick the shit out of each and every fucker who has ever owned a confederate battle flag t-shirt or a bumper sticker.

Also fuck each and every person who voted for the authoritarian narcissist who currently occupies the white house in 2016 or any of his fucking lackeys in the midterms. All these fuckers are straight garbage. And all the fuckers defending the authoritarian tendencies of the current administration can go fuck themselves. Go ahead and @ me.

“Don’t worry, my husband is heir to this estate.” Oh don’t fucking delude yourself, Claire. Rufus is going to die. And you are complicit in his death. Fucking own it.

*insert obligatory Joe Abernathy deserved better rant here*

I don’t like giving partial credit, but at least the show let fucking Rufus tell his own story. Just for a little bit though.

Ok I’m calling fucking bullshit that Ulysses, a man who (I don’t care what his relationship with Jocasta has been) has been enslaved for years, fucking calls Claire out and tells her she should have let Rufus die. Way to fucking try to absolve Claire by having a Black, enslaved man try to make her upcoming actions ok.

Don’t act naive, Claire. You know how this was going to end. Rufus was always going to die. You are complicit. There is no escaping that. Fucking own your part. Fucking own your privilege. And also fuck the show for centering this so much on the fucking white people.

Rufus didn't get to be an active participant in his own death. Claire should *not* have been absolved of her decision to kill him by having him ask her to do it. But by not even telling him what she's doing, she's just another white person making decisions for him without his consent. She also should have known to kill him without Jamie telling her to. *gestures at the Graham Menzies part of the books* She knows what's about to happen. She should accept that by choosing to be in the southern colonies, she's going to be complicit in slavery. She made her bed when she decided to go back into the past and now she should have to lay in it.

Sure she may not have known that she’d end up in the colonies, but she still knew she’d be going back to a time when she’d end up being part of something that is morally abhorrent. But apparently getting that ginger dick was worth it.

It’s cute they do a parallel of her helping Rufus to die with her helping Geordie to die. But I can’t help but think this is as much for her as for him.

Every white person in this episode is trash. As they fucking should be.

Fuck everyone who defends the continued existence of confederate memorial statues tbh.

I know that’s out of left field, but yeah, fuck those people.

The fact that this shit is bringing up very real feelings about today’s political climate makes me fucking angry at the fuckers around today and also the fucking production crew for trying to cater to the meemaws by saying the show isn’t political.

Fuck Jamie for being like yeah, I can just pray this shit away. No. God is a cop out. You did this. YOU. You need to own this. Don’t you dare hide behind your faith. You will not be absolved.

Fuck this show for showing a fucking lynching and them immediately cutting to Claire’s face to make the lynching about her white guilt. Fuck them.

If Jamie and Claire really don't want to be complicit in the atrocities of colonial America, they should move to a city where they could join in the work of starting to dismantle the things they claim to be morally opposed to. Instead they embrace their privilege of getting to ignore slavery by leaving River Run next week and go out to colonize Native American lands.

And just think. After all of this. After witnessing a lynching. In a couple episodes, Jamie’s gonna voluntarily send a guy into slavery!

Fuck.

Please all go read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. KThxBai.

#*#drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 4x01

118 notes · View notes

theliterateape · 2 years

Text

Glengarry Glen Trump

by Joe Janes

Famed playwright David Mamet has revisited his most iconic work and has revised it to fit his political views.

BLAKE: Let me have your attention for a moment. 'Cause you're talkin' about what...you're talkin' 'bout...bitchin' about income inequity, some son of a bitch don't want you to have an abortion, somebody don't want you wearing a mask, some broad you're trying to screw has you in the friend zone and you’re okay with that because you respect her feelings, so forth, let's talk about something important. (sees Sheldon pouring a soda). Put that Diet Coke down. Diet Coke's for MAGAs only. You think I'm fuckin' with you? I am not fuckin' with you. I'm here from Florida. I'm here from Trump and the NRC. And I'm here on a mission of mercy. Your name's Levine? And you're poor?

SHELDON: Yeah.

BALDWIN: You call yourself a patriot, you son of a bitch.

DAVE: I don't gotta listen to this shit.

BLAKE: You certainly don't pal 'cause the good news is you're banned. The bad news is you got all you got, just one day to stop being a loser liberal elite, starting with today. Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. 'Cause we're adding a little something to our True American contest. As you all know, first prize is a weekend at Mar-A-Lago and a picture with my president, Donald J. Trump. Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a nylon t-shirt with Trump on it firing an UZI and looking like Rambo. Third prize is you’re banned from the RNC and Trump rallies. You get the picture? You laughing now?

SHELDON: Libs are weak.

BLAKE: The libs are weak. Good try. The fuckin' libs are weak? You're weak.

DAVE: What's your name?

BLAKE: Fuck you, that's my name. Follow me on Twitter. You drove a Hyundai to get here tonight, I drove a red, white, and blue Hummer with a bumper sticker that says “I fucked your honor student legally in Tennessee”. That's my name. (Flips the blackboard) ABC. A, Always, B, Be, C, Conservative. Always be conservative. Always be conservative. What's the problem, pal?

DAVE: You, boss, you're such a hero, you're so rich, how come you're coming here and wasting your time with such a bunch of un-Americans?

BLAKE: You see this watch? You see this watch?

DAVE: Yeah.

BLAKE: That watch costs more than your car. I made 970,000 dollars last year thanks to tax cuts for the rich, deregulation, and lack of oversight on COVID relief programs. How much you make? You see pal, that's who I am, and you're nothing. Nice guy? I don't give a shit. Good father. Fuck you, go home and play with your kids. You want to be MAGA here, walk like you got a big gun and stop reading banned books. You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cock-sucker. If you don't like it, leave the country. Get mad you son-of-a-bitch. Get mad. Brown foreign people are taking your jobs. Libs want to shut everything down and control you by making you wear a mask. Teachers want to touch your children and make them gay. You don’t man up, you know what you'll be saying. Bunch of losers sitting around in a bar: ''Oh yeah, I used to be an American. It's a tough racket. Now I just want to live in the chaos and squalor of abortions and socialism. Where’s my free government paid for watered down beer?'' You want to be a patriot, grow some balls and stand up for Trump and the American flag. Now, let’s open this polling station. We’ve got an election to claim was rigged. The line’s a quarter-mile long.

#David Mamet #comedy #satire #Glengarry Glen Ross #Trump #MAGA

0 notes

gabaldon · 3 years

Text

An American Kingdom

A new and rapidly growing Christian movement is openly political, wants a nation under God’s authority, and is central to Donald Trump’s GOP

Mercy Culture Church in Fort Worth. (Dylan Hollingsworth for The Washington Post)

By Stephanie McCrummen

July 11, 2021|Updated July 12, 2021 at 3:05 a.m. EDT

FORT WORTH — The pastor was already pacing when he gave the first signal. Then he gave another, and another, until a giant video screen behind him was lit up with an enormous colored map of Fort Worth divided into four quadrants.

Greed, the map read over the west side. Competition, it said over the east side. Rebellion, it said over the north part of the city. Lust, it said over the south.

It was an hour and a half into the 11 a.m. service of a church that represents a rapidly growing kind of Christianity in the United States, one whose goal includes bringing under the authority of a biblical God every facet of life, from schools to city halls to Washington, where the pastor had traveled a month after the Jan. 6 insurrection and filmed himself in front of the U.S. Capitol saying quietly, “Father, we declare America is yours.”

Now he stood in front of the glowing map, a 38-year-old White man in skinny jeans telling a congregation of some 1,500 people what he said the Lord had told him: that Fort Worth was in thrall to four “high-ranking demonic forces.” That all of America was in the grip of “an anti-Christ spirit.” That the Lord had told him that 2021 was going to be the “Year of the Supernatural,” a time when believers would rise up and wage “spiritual warfare” to advance God’s Kingdom, which was one reason for the bright-red T-shirt he was wearing. It bore the name of a church elder who was running for mayor of Fort Worth. And when the pastor cued the band, the candidate, a Guatemalan American businessman, stood along with the rest of the congregation as spotlights flashed on faces that were young and old, rich and poor, White and various shades of Brown — a church that had grown so large since its founding in 2019 that there were now three services every Sunday totaling some 4,500 people, a growing Saturday service in Spanish and plans for expansion to other parts of the country.

“Say, ‘Cleanse me,’ ” the pastor continued as drums began pounding and the people repeated his words. “Say, ‘Speak, Lord, your servants are listening.’ ”

***

The church is called Mercy Culture, and it is part of a growing Christian movement that is nondenominational, openly political and has become an engine of former president Donald Trump’s Republican Party. It includes some of the largest congregations in the nation, housed in the husks of old Baptist churches, former big-box stores and sprawling multimillion-dollar buildings with private security to direct traffic on Sundays. Its most successful leaders are considered apostles and prophets, including some with followings in the hundreds of thousands, publishing empires, TV shows, vast prayer networks, podcasts, spiritual academies, and branding in the form of T-shirts, bumper stickers and even flags. It is a world in which demons are real, miracles are real, and the ultimate mission is not just transforming individual lives but also turning civilization itself into their version of God’s Kingdom: one with two genders, no abortion, a free-market economy, Bible-based education, church-based social programs and laws such as the ones curtailing LGBTQ rights now moving through statehouses around the country.

This is the world of Trump’s spiritual adviser Paula White and many more lesser-known but influential religious leaders who prophesied that Trump would win the election and helped organize nationwide prayer rallies in the days before the Jan. 6 insurrection, speaking of an imminent “heavenly strike” and “a Christian populist uprising,” leading many who stormed the Capitol to believe they were taking back the country for God.

Even as mainline Protestant and evangelical denominations continue an overall decline in numbers in a changing America, nondenominational congregations have surged from being virtually nonexistent in the 1980s to accounting for roughly 1 in 10 Americans in 2020, according to long-term academic surveys of religious affiliation. Church leaders tend to attribute the growth to the power of an uncompromised Christianity. Experts seeking a more historical understanding point to a relatively recent development called the New Apostolic Reformation, or NAR.

A California-based theologian coined the phrase in the 1990s to describe what he said he had seen as a missionary in Latin America — vast church growth, miracles, and modern-day prophets and apostles endowed with special powers to fight demonic forces. He and others promoted new church models using sociological principles to attract members. They also began advancing a set of beliefs called dominionism, which holds that God commands Christians to assert authority over the “seven mountains” of life — family, religion, education, economy, arts, media and government — after which time Jesus Christ will return and God will reign for eternity.

None of which is new, exactly. Strains of this thinking formed the basis of the Christian right in the 1970s and have fueled the GOP for decades.

What is new is the degree to which Trump elevated a fresh network of NAR-style leaders who in turn elevated him as God’s chosen president, a fusion that has secured the movement as a grass-roots force within the GOP just as the old Christian right is waning. Increasingly, this is the world that the term “evangelical voter” refers to — not white-haired Southern Baptists in wooden pews but the comparatively younger, more diverse, more extreme world of millions drawn to leaders who believe they are igniting a new Great Awakening in America, one whose epicenter is Texas.

That is where the pastor wearing the bright-red T-shirt, Landon Schott, had been on the third day of a 40-day fast when he said the Lord told him something he found especially interesting.

It was 2017, and he was walking the streets of downtown Fort Worth asking God to make him a “spiritual father” of the city when he heard God say no. What he needed was “spiritual authority,” he remembered God telling him, and the way to get that was to seek the blessing of a pastor named Robert Morris, an evangelical adviser to Trump, and the founder of one of the largest church networks in the nation, called Gateway, with nine branches and weekly attendance in the tens of thousands, including some of the wealthiest businessmen in Texas.

Morris blessed him. Not long after that, a bank blessed him with the funds to purchase an aging church called Calvary Cathedral International, a polygonal structure with a tall white steeple visible from Interstate 35. Soon, the old red carpet was being ripped up. The old wooden pews were being hauled out. The cross on the stage was removed, and in came a huge screen, black and white paint, speakers, lights and modern chandeliers as the new church called Mercy Culture was born.

“Mercy” for undeserved grace.

“Culture” for the world they wanted to create.

***

Mercy Culture

A video introduces the theme of the pastor’s sermon at Mercy Culture Church. (Stephanie McCrummen/The Washington Post)

That world is most visible on Sundays, beginning at sunrise, when the worship team arrives to set up for services.

In the lobby, they place straw baskets filled with earplugs.

In the sanctuary, they put boxes of tissues at the end of each row of chairs.

On the stage one recent Sunday, the band was doing its usual run-through — two guitar players, a bass player, a keyboardist and two singers, one of whom was saying through her mic to the earpiece of the drummer: “When we start, I want you to wait to build it — then I want you to do those drum rolls as we’re building it.” He nodded, and as they went over song transitions, the rest of the worship team filtered in for the pre-service prayer.

The sound technician prayed over the board controlling stacks of D&B Audiotechnik professional speakers. The lighting technician asked the Lord to guide the 24 professional-grade spotlights with colors named “good green” and “good red.” Pacing up and down the aisles were the ushers, the parking attendants, the security guards, the greeters, the camera operators, the dancers, the intercessors, all of them praying, whispering, speaking in tongues, inviting into the room what they believed to be the Holy Spirit — not in any metaphorical sense, and not in some vague sense of oneness with an incomprehensible universe. Theirs was the spirit of a knowable Christian God, a tangible force they believed could be drawn in through the brown roof, through the cement walls, along the gray-carpeted hallways and in through the double doors of the sanctuary where they could literally breathe it into their bodies. Some people spoke of tasting it. Others said they felt it — a sensation of warm hands pressing, or of knowing that someone has entered the room even when your eyes are closed. Others claimed to see it — golden auras or gold dust or feathers of angels drifting down.

That was the intent of all this, and now the first 1,500 people of the day seeking out those feelings began arriving, pulling in past fluttering white flags stamped with a small black cross over a black “MC,” in through an entrance where the words “Fear Go” were painted in huge block letters above doors that had remained open for much of the pandemic. Inside, the church smelled like fresh coffee.

“Welcome to Mercy,” the greeters said to people who could tell stories of how what happened to them here had delivered them from drug addiction, alcoholism, psychological traumas, PTSD, depression, infidelities, or what the pastor told them was the “sexual confusion” of being gay, queer or transgender. They lingered awhile in a communal area, sipping coffee on modern leather couches, taking selfies in front of a wall with a pink neon “Mercy” sign, or browsing a narrow selection of books about demonic spirits. On a wall, a large clock counted down the final five minutes as they headed into the windowless sanctuary.

Inside, the lights were dim, and the walls were bare. No paintings of parables. No stained glass, crosses, or images of Jesus. Nothing but the stage and the enormous, glowing screen where another clock was spinning down the last seconds as cymbals began playing, and people began standing and lifting their arms because they knew what was about to happen. Cameras 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 were in position. The live stream was on standby. In the front row, the 85-year-old retired pastor of the church this used to be secured his earplugs.

What happened next was 40 nonstop minutes of swelling, blasting, drum-pounding music at times so loud that chairs and walls seemed to vibrate. The huge screen became a video of swirling clouds, then a black galaxy of spinning stars. The spotlights went from blue to amber to gold to white. A camera slid back and forth on a dolly. Fog spilled onto the stage. Modern dancers raced around waving shiny flags. One song melded into the next, rising and falling and rising again into extended, mantralike choruses about surrender while people in the congregation began kneeling and bowing.

A few rows back, the pastor stood with one hand raised and the other holding a coffee cup. And when the last song faded, a worship team member walked onstage to explain what was happening in case anyone was new.

“The Holy Spirit is in this room,” he said.

Now everyone sat down and watched the glowing screen. Another video began playing — this one futuristic, techno music over flash-cut images of a nuclear blast, a spinning planet, advancing soldiers, and when it was over, the pastor was standing on the stage to deliver his sermon, the essence of which was repeated in these kinds of churches all over the nation:

America is in the midst of a great battle between the forces of God and Satan, and the forces of Satan roughly resemble the liberal, progressive agenda. Beware of the “seductive, political, demonic, power-hungry spirit that uses witchcraft to control God’s people.” Beware of “freedom that is actually just rebellion against God.” Beware of confusion. Beware of “rogue leaders.” Beware of a world that “preaches toleration of things God does not tolerate,” and on it went for a full hour, a man with a microphone in a spotlight, pacing, sweating, whispering about evil forces until he cued the band and gave instructions for eternal salvation.

“Just say, ‘Holy Spirit, would you teach me how to choose to obey you,’ ” he said, asking people to close their eyes, or kneel, or bow, and as the drums began pounding again, the reaction was the same as it was every Sunday.

People closed their eyes. They knelt. They bowed. They believed, and as they did, people with cameras roamed the congregation capturing peak moments for videos that would be posted to the church’s website and social media accounts: a man with tattooed arms crying; a whole row of people on their knees bowing; a blond woman in a flower-print dress lying all the way down on the floor, forehead to carpet.

When it was over, people streamed outside, squinting into the bright Fort Worth morning as the next 1,500 people pulled in past the fluttering white flags.

“Welcome to Mercy,” the greeters said again.

Music portion at Mercy Culture

Part of the music portion of worship services at Mercy Culture. (Stephanie McCrummen/The Washington Post)

***

By late afternoon Sunday, the parking lot was empty and the rest of the work of kingdom-building could begin.

One day, this meant a meeting of the Distinct Business Ministry, whose goal was “raising up an army of influential leaders” across Fort Worth.

Another day, it meant the church hosting a meeting of a group called the Freedom Shield Foundation, a dozen or so men huddled over laptops organizing what one participant described as clandestine “operations” around Fort Worth to rescue people they said were victims of sex trafficking. This was a core issue for the church. Members were raising money to build housing for alleged victims. There were always prayer nights for the cause, including one where church members laid hands on Fort Worth’s sheriff, who sat with a Bible in his lap and said that the problem was “the demonic battle of our lifetime” and told those gathered that “you are the warriors in that battle.”

Another day, it meant the steady stream of cars inching toward the church food bank, one team loading boxes into trunks and another fanning out along the idling line offering prayers.

A man in a dented green sedan requested one for his clogged arteries.

A man trying to feed a family of seven asked in Spanish, “Please, just bless my life.”

A stone-faced woman said her mother had died of covid, then her sister, and now a volunteer reached inside and touched her shoulder: “Jesus, wrap your arms around Jasmine,” she said, and when she moved on to others who tried to politely decline, the volunteer, a young woman, gave them personal messages she said she had received from the Lord.

“God wants to tell you that you’re so beautiful,” she said into one window.

“I feel God is saying that you’ve done a good job for your family,” she said into another.

“I feel God is saying, if anything, He is proud of you,” she said in Spanish to a woman gripping the steering wheel, her elderly mother in the passenger seat. “When God sees you, He is so pleased, He is so proud,” she continued as the woman stared straight ahead. “I feel you are carrying so much regret, maybe? And pain?” she persisted, and now the woman began nodding. “And I think God wants to release you from the past. Say, ‘Jesus, I give you my shame.’ Say, ‘Jesus, I give you my regret,’ ” the volunteer said, and the woman repeated the words. “ ‘You know I tried my best, Jesus. I receive your acceptance. I receive your love,’ ” the volunteer continued, and now the woman was crying, and the food was being loaded into the back seat, and a volunteer was taking her name, saying, “Welcome to the family.”

Another day, the Kingdom looked like rows of white tents where a woman in a white dress was playing a harp as more than a thousand mostly young women were arriving for something called Marked Women’s Night.

“I feel the Lord is going to be implanting something in us tonight,” a 27-year-old named Autumn said to her friend, their silver eye shadow glowing in the setting sun.

“Every time I come here the Lord always speaks to me,” her friend said.

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time, too,” said Autumn, who described how the Lord had told her to move from Ohio to Texas, and then to attend Gateway Church, and then to enroll in a Gateway-approved school called Lifestyle Christianity University, where she said the Lord sent a stranger to pay her tuition. Not long after that, the Lord sent her into an Aldi supermarket, where she met a woman who told her about Mercy Culture, which is how she ended up sitting here on the grass on a summer evening, believing that the Lord was preparing her to go to Montana to “prophesy over the land” in anticipation of a revival.

“I don’t understand it; I just know it’s God,” Autumn said.

“So many miracles,” said her friend, and soon the drums were pounding.

They joined the crowd heading inside for another thunderous concert followed by a sermon by the pastor’s wife, during which she referred to the women as “vessels” and described “the Kingdom of Heaven growing and taking authority over our nation.”

Another day — Election Day in Fort Worth — hundreds of church members gathered at a downtown event space to find out whether their very own church elder, Steve Penate, would become the next mayor, and the sense in the room was that of a miracle unfolding.

“Supernatural,” said Penate, a first-time candidate, looking at the crowd of volunteers who’d knocked on thousands of doors around the city.

A candidate for the 2022 governor’s race stopped by. A wealthy businessman who helped lead the Republican National Hispanic Assembly drove over from Dallas. The pastor came by to declare that “this is the beginning of a righteous movement.”

“We are not just going after the mayorship — we’re going after every seat,” he said as the first batch of votes came in showing Penate in sixth place out of 10 candidates, and then fifth place, and then fourth, which was where he stayed as the last votes came in and he huddled with his campaign team to pray.

“Jesus, you just put a dent in the kingdom of darkness,” his campaign adviser said. “We stand up to the darkness. We stand up to the establishment. God, this is only the beginning.”

Another day, 100 or so young people crowded into a church conference room singing, “God, I’ll go anywhere; God, I’ll do anything,” hands raised, eyes closed, kneeling, bowing, crying, hugging. At the front of the room, a man with blond hair and a beard was talking about love.

“Everyone says they have the definition for what love is, but the Bible says, ‘By this we know love,’ ” he said. “Jesus laid down his life for us, and we are to lay down our lives for others.”

He dimmed the lights and continued in this vein for another hour, the music playing, the young people rocking back and forth mouthing, “Jesus, Jesus,” trancelike, until the blond man said, “It’s about that time.”

He turned the lights back on and soon, he sent them out on missions into the four demonic quadrants of Fort Worth.

***

Avoca Coffee Roasters, on Magnolia Avenue, is in a Fort Worth neighborhood designated by Mercy Culture for its missionaries as Lust. (Dylan Hollingsworth for The Washington Post)

One group headed east into Competition, a swath of the city that included the mirrored skyscrapers of downtown and struggling neighborhoods such as one called Stop 6, where the young people had claimed two salvations in a park the day before.

Another team headed west toward the green lawns and sprawling mansions of Greed.

Another rolled south toward Lust, where it was normal these days to see rainbow flags on bungalow porches and cafe windows including the one where a barista named Ryan Winters was behind the counter, eyeing the door.

It wasn’t the evangelicals he was worried about but the young customers who came in and were sometimes vulnerable.

“Maybe someone is struggling with their identity,” Ryan said.

He was not struggling. He was 27, a lapsed Methodist who counted himself lucky that he had never heard the voice of a God that would deem him unholy for being who he was, the pansexual lead singer of a psychedelic punk band called Alice Void.

“I never had a time when I was uncomfortable or ashamed of myself,” he said. “We all take care of each other, right, Tom?”

“Oh, yeah,” said a man with long gray hair, Tom Brunen, a Baptist turned Buddhist artist who was 62 and had witnessed the transformation of the neighborhood from a dangerous, castoff district that was a refuge for people he called “misfits” into a place that represented what much of America was becoming: more accepting, more inclined to see churches in terms of the people they had forsaken.

“It’s all mythology and fear and guilt that keeps the plutocracy and the greed in line above everybody else,” Tom said. “That’s what the universe showed me. If you want to call it God, fine. The creative force, whatever. Jesus tried to teach people that it’s all one thing. He tried and got killed for it. Christianity killed Jesus. The end. That’s my testimony.”

That was what the kingdom-builders were up against, and in the late afternoon, Nick Davenport, 24, braced himself as he arrived at his demonic battlefield, Rebellion, a noisy, crowded tourist zone of bars, souvenir shops and cobblestone streets in the north part of the city. He began walking around, searching out faces.

“The sheep will know the shepherd’s voice,” he repeated to himself to calm his nerves.

“Hey, Jesus loves y’all,” he said tentatively to a blond woman walking by.

“He does, he does,” the woman said, and he pressed on.

“Is anything bothering you?” he said to a man holding a shopping bag.

“No, I’m good,” the man said, and Nick continued down the sidewalk.

It was hot, and he passed bars and restaurants and gusts of sour-smelling air. A cacophony of music drifted out of open doors. A jacked-up truck roared by.

He moved on through the crowds, scanning the faces of people sitting at some outdoor tables. He zeroed in on a man eating a burger, a red scar visible at the top of his chest.

“Do you talk to God?” Nick asked him.

“Every day — I died twice,” the man said, explaining he had survived a car accident.

“What happened when you died?” Nick asked.

“Didn’t see any white lights,” the man said. “Nothing.”

“Well, Jesus loves you,” Nick said, and kept walking until he felt God pulling him toward a young man in plaid shorts standing outside a bar. He seemed to be alone. He was drinking a beer, his eyes red.

“Hi, I’m Nick, and I wanted to know, how are you doing?”

“Kind of you to ask,” the man said. “My uncle killed himself yesterday.”

“Oh,” said Nick, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry. You know, God is close to the brokenhearted. I know it doesn’t feel like it all the time.”

He began telling him his own story of a troubled home life and a childhood of bullying, and how he had been close to suicide himself when he was 18 years old, and how, on a whim, he went with a friend to a massive Christian youth conference in Nashville of the sort that is increasingly common these days. A worship band called Planet Shakers was playing, he said, and deep into one of their songs, he heard what he believed to be the voice of God for the first time.

“The singer said if you’re struggling, let it go, and I halfheartedly said, ‘Okay, God, I guess I give it to you,’ and all of the sudden I felt shaky. I fell to the ground. I felt like a hand on my chest. Like, ‘I have you.’ I heard God say, ‘I love you. I made you for a purpose.’ When I heard that, I bawled like a baby. That was when I knew what I was created for. For Jesus.”

The man with red eyes listened.

“Thanks for saying that,” he said, and Nick continued walking the sidewalks into the early evening, his confidence bolstered, feeling more certain than ever that he would soon be leaving his roofing job to do something else for the Lord, something big. He had been preparing, absorbing the lessons of a church that taught him his cause was righteous, and that in the great spiritual battle for America, the time was coming when he might be called upon to face the ultimate test.

“If I have any choice, I want to die like the disciples,” said Nick. “John the Baptist was beheaded. One or two were boiled alive. Peter, I believe he was crucified upside down. If it goes that way? I’m ready. If people want to stone me, shoot me, cut my fingers off — it doesn’t matter what you do to me. We will give anything for the gospel. We are open. We are ready.”

***

Mercy Culture took over a building once used by Calvary Cathedral International, a polygonal structure with a tall white steeple visible from Interstate 35. (Dylan Hollingsworth for The Washington Post)

Ready for what, though, is the lingering question.

Those inside the movement have heard all the criticisms. That their churches are cults that prey on human frailties. That what their churches are preaching about LGTBQ people is a lie that is costing lives in the form of suicides. That the language of spiritual warfare, demonic forces, good and evil is creating exactly the sort of radical worldview that could turn politics into holy war. That the U.S. Constitution does not allow laws privileging a religion. That America does not exist to advance some Christian Kingdom of God or to usher in the second coming of Jesus.

To which Penate, the former mayoral candidate, said, “There’s a big misconception when it comes to separation of church and state. It never meant that Christians shouldn’t be involved in politics. It’s just loving the city. Being engaged. Our children are in public schools. Our cars are on public streets. The reality is that people who don’t align with the church have hijacked everything. If I ever get elected, my only allegiance will be to the Lord.”

Or as a member of Mercy Culture who campaigned for Penate said: “Can you imagine if every church took a more active role in society? If teachers were preachers? If church took a more active role in health? In business? If every church took ownership over their communities? There would be no homeless. No widows. No orphans. It would look like a society that has a value system. A Christian value system.”

That was the American Kingdom they were working to advance, and as another Sunday arrived, thousands of believers streamed past the fluttering white flags and into the sanctuary to bathe in the Holy Spirit for the righteous battles and glories to come.

The drums began pounding. The screen began spinning. The band began blasting, and when it was time, the pastor stood on the stage to introduce a topic he knew was controversial, and to deliver a very specific word. He leaned in.

“Submission,” he said.

“We’ve been taught obedience to man instead of obedience to God,” he continued.

“God makes an army out of people who will learn to submit themselves,” he continued.

“When you submit, God fights for you,” he concluded.

He cued the band. The drums began to pound again, and he told people to “breathe in the presence of God,” and they breathed. He told them to close their eyes, and they closed their eyes. He gave them words to repeat, and the people repeated them.

“I declare beautiful, supernatural submission,” they said.

By Stephanie McCrummen

Stephanie McCrummen is a national enterprise reporter covering an array of subjects for The Washington Post. Previously, she was the paper's East Africa bureau chief based in Nairobi. She has also reported from Egypt, Iraq and Mexico, among other places. She joined The Post as a Metro reporter in 2004.

0 notes

johnhardinsawyer · 3 years

Text

No Longer Strangers

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 18 / 21

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

“No Longer Strangers”

(A New Harmony)

Have you seen these flags that are flown at homes and businesses and put on t-shirts and bumper stickers? They look like American flags, but instead of being red, white, and blue, these flags are black and white. Have you seen these flags? Now, I’m not entirely sure what brought these white and black flags about, but someone, somewhere, is making some money selling them. I guess some people think they look kind of cool – and, maybe they do – but I’m not entirely sure what, exactly, these flags mean to many of the people who fly and wear them. I mean, I kind of know what these black and white flags mean, but a flag is a symbol – a powerful symbol – filled with so much meaning. Now, I want to be careful and say that I’m not trying to make a judgment statement here about who flies which flag. I am concerned, though, because it has begun to feel like the United States of America finds itself living under different flags – different ideologies, different forms of expressing ideas and loyalties – “United” in name, only. There is so much dissonance and very little harmony. We’re estranged from one another – strangers in this strange, yet beloved, land.

This is not the first time it’s been this way. Our ideological and cultural differences can cause us to operate in different social worlds, different media worlds, different social media worlds, even different physical worlds in terms of which town or neighborhood we choose to live in (or which town or neighborhood welcomes us in). We might live in the same country, and we might technically be speaking the same language as our neighbors – like English – but we’re really speaking different languages about what is important, and true, and good to us. And it is so hard for us to understand one another. It happens between people of different races and cultures. It happens between people of different ages, and generations, and socio-economic backgrounds, and access to technology. It happens within families and in schools. It even happens in the church.

So, whether we’re talking about God, or who we voted for, or where we think the country is headed, or what we think about the complexities of race relations and the police and school curriculum and all of the historical and emotional baggage contained therein, there are so many ways that people can be so far apart on so many things. We are strangers from one another – and, as we were taught as children, strangers can be dangerous, so. . . we stay away from one another, and the divide grows.

And then, along comes today’s reading from the Letter to the Ephesians and it totally upends the tribalistic differences to which we might cling. Because in Jesus Christ, any differences we might think are so important – any differences we might have to those around us – are wiped away and everyone is given a new identity. The artificial barriers of thought, and feeling, and education, and money, and other things that we humans build, are dismantled. Anything that separates us is torn down.

The Letter to the Ephesians was likely written by someone who was close to the Apostle Paul – one of his followers, perhaps. And the letter is written to the church at Ephesus, but it is really meant to be read by church – including ours.

Just so you know, the ancient city of Ephesus was a port town in present-day Turkey – across the Aegean Sea from Greece. Back in the time this letter was written, Ephesus was already well over 1,000 years old, and it was a thriving place with beautiful buildings, and a gigantic road from the harbor to the city – a first-century super-highway where eight chariots could ride side-by-side. Ephesus had a huge amphitheater, and a library the size of our sanctuary (a rarity in the ancient world), and the temple of Artemis, which was at least four times the size of our sanctuary.[1] In Greek mythology, Artemis was the daughter of Zeus – the goddess of the hunt.[2]

So, in addition to the local – native – people, and the Greeks who conquered and settled the area, and the Romans who later conquered and settled the area, people from all over the known world traveled to and through Ephesus over the years, bringing other cultures and religions with them. These included Jews from Palestine and, later on, Christians. As you might imagine, this bustling melting pot of cultures, and races, and religions, was not without conflict. Sound familiar? It was like there were multiple flags flying over the same city – as many flags as there were viewpoints and loyalties. And, apparently, there were people who thought that their way of living and practicing religion was the best way – that they were the in-crowd and everyone else was out. There might have even been people in the church at Ephesus who felt this way about other people in the same church. Can you imagine? Shocking, I know, but people back then didn’t have many options in terms of churches. It’s not like they could pack up and leave to go to the other church down the street. There was only one church at Ephesus.

And then this letter arrives, stating that God has a different way of life, and faith, and community in mind for us. There’s only one church, after all, so maybe we should live and work to make it so. Now, many of the people in the church were so-called Gentiles – they were not ethnic or religious Jews, descended from one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Instead, they were locals, of Greek, or Roman, or some other lineage, and they had heard the good news about this Palestinian Jew, Jesus Christ, and had come to believe in him. Just prior to today’s passage, we can read the words later made famous by Martin Luther and other Reformers: “[f]or by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God. . .” (Ephesians 2:8) Another way of putting it is that, in the very act of coming to have faith in Jesus Christ, you and I are saved by God’s grace. So these Gentiles in Ephesus, who have come to trust and follow Jesus, now find themselves as members of Christ’s body. They are adopted, as we heard last week, and are given a new identity as God’s own children.

There’s only one problem, though. They go to church with people who love Jesus, too, but who look down their noses at these Gentiles because they are not Jewish. I mean, Jesus was Jewish, so shouldn’t everyone who loves Jesus be Jewish too – with all of the Jewish rules and regulations, including being circumcised? To which the author of the letter to the Ephesians says, basically, “Don’t you know that God is up to something new and different for all of humanity, not just one small part of it?”

You see, there are these things that divide us as people. Maybe it’s where we’re from, or what we believe, or who our family is, or what we’ve been taught about who we are. And all of this makes us different from those people, whoever they may be and whatever flag they may be flying or pledging allegiance to.

But, as the author of today’s passage writes,

. . . now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. (2:13-14)

In other words, Christ Jesus bridges the divide between human beings and, through his loving sacrifice, he draws us close together and makes us one people. No more walls. No more hostility. No more flags. Only the cross of Jesus Christ.

Can we still fly a flag? Yes, if we need to. Can we still love our country or our heritage? Of course! But, in Christ Jesus, our true country is God’s kingdom and our true heritage is built upon the loving and faithful foundation of prophets, and apostles, and Jesus, himself.

In so many ways, the dividing lines that we draw and walls we build might feel like our natural default setting as human beings, but they really go against who we truly are – who God made us to be. As the Celtic Christian author, Philip Newell, writes:

Like never before in the history of humanity, we are becoming aware that what we do to a part we do to the whole, that the parts will not be well as long as the whole is neglected, and that the whole will not be well if the parts are neglected. We know that it is meaningless to speak of being truly well as parents if our children are unwell. We know that we cannot claim true wellness for our nation as long as other nations are suffering. And we know that the human species can in no sense be considered healthy when the body of the earth is deeply infected. Wellness is found not in isolation but in relationship. . . [The Holy] Spirit is breathing a new vision of oneness into our awareness today. And it transcends the narrow boundaries that our nations and religions have tried to place around us. A new and vast Pentecost is stirring in the human soul. How will we serve it?[3]

Now, this was written ten years ago, long before Covid-19 vaccines and Delta variants, but it somehow rings quite true in the face of all that we’re facing. We are connected to one another, even if we don’t act like it. I find Newell’s question compelling. The Holy Spirit “transcends the narrow boundaries that our nations and religions have tried to place around us. . . How will we serve it?”

How will we serve the Holy Spirit in the spirit of the oneness to which God is calling us, and leading us, and perhaps dragging us against our wills as we pray with our lips for things to be on earth as they are in heaven and yet live in such a way that we would gladly have nothing to do with a neighbor who thinks or acts or lives differently from us?

This is tough stuff, my friends, but in Christ Jesus, the God who might seem so far off from sinful and petty human beings, like you and I, brings us near. And in Christ Jesus, the people who might seem so far off from us are brought near, too – from Mitch McConnell to Nancy Pelosi, from rainbow flags to MAGA hats, from Tucker Carlson to Bill Maher, from Black Lives Matter to Blue Lives Matter, from wherever you may be – and whatever flag you fly – and how you see the world to wherever those who are most strange to you and estranged from you are.

How will we serve the Spirit? By living and working and serving and loving until all people are no longer strangers. We have our work cut out for us – whether that work takes place deep in our own hearts or out in the world, dismantling our pride and our prejudice and making us one. Who is farthest away from you and how is the Spirit moving you to become one? In Christ Jesus, God is creating a new humanity that embraces our very human need for one another – our need for harmony and wholeness and peace. . . even with those people who seem so far off from us.

We have been saved by grace and this is not our own doing, but may we respond to God’s grace by living and working for God’s harmony, and wholeness, and peace.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

-----------

[1] Watson E. Mills, ed. Mercer Dictionary of the Bible (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1990) 255-256. James L. Blevins - “Ephesus”.

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artemis.

[3] J. Philip Newell, A New Harmony: The Spirit, the Earth, and the Human Soul (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011) xiii-xiv.

0 notes