#means honoring those who died and sacrificed and suffered before you by remembering them by going forward making life better for those after

[usercelestial]

like 'i wanna go' doesn't mean he's suicidal, it means 'i've developed friends and family, i've grown, i've experimented and discovered who i am and made peace with it, i've loved everyone i needed to and they loved me back and i know that now. i can let go of the idea of glory and just be with family for the time i have left. i'll sit with ed until i go and tell that i love him, tell him it's okay that i'll be gone because he has people who care for him, it's not just me anymore, i can trust stede to love him, watch him become who he wants to be, i can tell him that i want him to be happy, that he can leave blackbeard behind and be who he is outside of being the legend we made together. ed's loved and protected, the crew is safe, my family is taken care of, and i've done everything i need to.' he doesn't mean 'i wanna go because i don't want to live' it means 'i wanna go, i'm ready, i lived my life and i can let go now' izzy died happy and fulfilled, he died in the arms of the man he loved, surrounded by people who loved him. the crew mourned him by celebrating lucius and pete's love, they mourned him by going forward and avenging him, forming a new family and crew to carry on the legacy of piracy, and most importantly ed is mourning him by doing exactly what izzy told him to do, he's letting blackbeard die and allowing himself to be loved, he moves into a little house with someone who will always love him with izzy's grave and memorial in view, and izzy will always be with ed in so many ways, but especially because he gave him permission to let go of his darkness and become someone better

[dreamwraith]

@floralflowerpower mentioned wanting to read an idea I had, soooo....

Alright, this is largely inspired by the M*A*S*H episode “Who Knew?” It’s a very bittersweet episode. It begins with the news that a nurse died the previous night when she wandered into a minefield. One of the main characters, Hawkeye, was the last one to see her alive. He offers to write her eulogy when no one else steps forward, though he barely knew her himself. He’s stymied by how little anyone can tell him about her, until the priest suggests he reads her diary. He learns who she was through her own words, the person she had hidden beneath a shy exterior that others interpreted as standoffish. She had true feelings for Hawkeye and he never knew. The last entry is how she can’t get Hawkeye out of her thoughts so she’s going to go for a walk. 

As you might guess, my idea starts off with a bittersweet tale. 

Jack and Maddie got the portal working without Danny needing to die, and for two years, Amity Park has been under threat from whatever ghost chooses to try their hand at conquering them. Jack and Maddie are the town’s main defense without Danny Phantom to protect them, and they’re not as skilled or as prompt as canon Danny was at catching ghosts. Sometimes a ghost slips through. Sometimes, people get hurt. 

I don’t have the full details worked out, but in this case, a ghost attacked the school. Danny is almost killed. He’s the son of the town’s defenders, so perhaps he’s an easy, desirable target. One of his classmates saves him by sacrificing himself. He (I’ve been going with the name Alexander in my notes) later dies at the hospital, and Danny, suffering from survivor’s guilt and PTSD, blames himself. He didn’t know his classmate very well, he doesn’t even remember his name right away, he doesn’t understand why Alex saved him. 

He tries to find out more about him, feeling like he owes him that much, but he discovers only superficial information. Alex was a foster of Amity Park; he had no family. No one but Danny is currently mourning him. He’s determined to get answers, though, and that causes him to clash with Dash and teachers when they say things like “Alex was a creep” or “he was a troublemaker; I heard he ran away from his last home.” Danny’s fights get him brought to Lancer’s attention, and it’s during that meeting that Danny is given Alex’s diary. 

Eager but frightened, it takes Danny a long time to work up the courage to begin reading. 

Meanwhile, “Phantom” begins to form in the Ghost Zone. 

Alex hated himself enough that his self-image is dismissed from his spirit, and his last thoughts were of Danny, so when he forms, he takes on a ghostly impression of Danny. It’s an important detail because that’s what makes this pitch pearl, and it’s why Danny doesn’t recognize him. 

He doesn’t have a clearly defined obsession, but he definitely feels a pull toward the human world. Johnny and Kitty help Phantom cross the portal, and that’s when he meets Danny for the first time. Idk why Danny came down to the lab yet, but I know he’s up because of PTSD nightmares/insomnia. Phantom feels his whole being focus on Danny, Danny freezes in place because he had just woken up from a nightmare of a ghost attack, and Johnny and Kitty look between Danny and Phantom, putting two and two together and reaching “Phantom’s purpose”

The three ghosts make a quick escape once protective parents Jack and Maddie come storming down the stairs, but first impressions were made, and now Phantom is determined to find out more about Danny and why his soul is crying out for him. 

Unfortunately, Danny is entangled in Alex’s diary and his own grief. Every effort Phantom makes toward befriending Danny is rebuffed because 1) ghosts can’t be trusted, and 2) Phantom’s resemblance to Danny combined with his interest in him is fucking creepy. In his downward spiral, though, Danny is losing connection with his friends, his grades, his safety, and Phantom isn’t willing to let Danny fade like this. Circumstances change when Phantom saves Danny from a human threat (human crime, let’s goooo) and Danny starts to actually pay attention to him, enough to start letting down his walls at least. 

And just in time for Danny to reach the point in the diary where Alex confesses he had a crush on Danny. Danny’s grief finally breaks, and Phantom comforts him through the loss. Phantom learns about Alex and Danny’s growing feelings for a boy that’s no longer within reach, and reluctantly pushes his own growing feelings for Danny aside. Danny is going through too much to deal with Phantom’s own failings. He needs time to mourn.

A real friendship starts to build.

With his feelings for Danny on hold but satisfied by their friendship, Phantom begins to explore who he is. He begins to take on a protector role, determined to save other humans from feeling the grief Danny is under. He focuses less on fighting and more on saving. A ghost will attack, and he’ll erect a shield around humans to deflect debris or catch someone who is falling or just comfort someone who got hurt. Jack and Maddie are still the ones that ultimately defeat the ghost, but Phantom’s actions begin to catch everyone’s attention. 

He is exactly what they needed, and he begins to be hailed as a guardian.

Danny is happy for him, but something about Phantom’s focus with protection over fighting resonates with Alex’s thoughts in his diary. He begins piecing things together. He proposes his wild idea to Jazz one night, but she warns him not to try to “bring Alex back from the dead” for Danny’s own mental health. 

Danny proposes the idea to Phantom, and at first Phantom thinks it’s nonsense, but Danny insists Phantom read the diary, so Phantom reluctantly (tho he doesn’t understand why he’s so reluctant) humors him. He can only get through five entries before he shoves the diary back into Danny’s hands and refuses to read anymore.

His self-hatred caused him to lose his identity in death, remember? He doesn’t want to remember, it’s painful. He tells Danny to forget about Alex. No one cared about him when he was alive, they won’t care who he was now. But Danny cares, and it tugs at Phantom’s feelings to meet Danny halfway, but does Danny like him because of Alex or because of Phantom, the person he is now?

I don’t have the full details worked out, but I know I want Danny to reveal Phantom’s past as Alex to Amity Park so that they can see their foster son has grown into their defender, savior, protector. He wasn’t loved when he was alive, but they must honor his past because it made him the hero he is now. Amity Park goes wild for the story. They love Phantom all the more, knowing who he was, how he died, and who he became. 

A bittersweet beginning becoming an uplifting, hopeful note, maybe? 

That’s all I have planned :P

I haven’t written anything for it yet because I haven’t figured out how to start. I’m terrible at action scenes, and I feel like I have to describe at least PART of Alex’s sacrifice. But ugh, ghost attack, ugh. Choreography, description, pacing, urgh, I hate action scenes, how do you guys WRITE those, it’s witchcraft I swear

(Side note for the name, Alexander means “defender of men”)

(And because I’m classy as a unripe grape, the story is titled Right Here (Departed) in my folder, which is actually a song by Brandy oiasjdlkfej I song titled it. omg. But listen, listen...it fits)

[fanmoose12]

Jean wiped the tears from his face, thinking if he had made the right choice after all. Remembering Magath’s arrogant and condescending expression or Reiner’s apologetic one, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

What was wrong with him, if he decided to risk his life to save the assholes like them? Why should he help those people, who hated and despised him, who called him a monster just because of his blood?

Maybe, Floch was right, Jean though bitterly. Maybe, he should have joined him and let all those people die. Then he would be safe, he would be free and… he would be guilty for the deaths of millions of innocents that had cost him his happiness.

“Goddamn it,” Jean whispered. “Goddamn it, Marco, sometimes I hate you,” a small grin appeared at his lips and a few tears escaped his eyes, as an image of his friend, smiling at him, came to Jean’s mind. “If it weren’t for you and your stupid words… I would have been the same old Jean… the same jerk, who didn’t care for anyone, but himself. But look at me now,” he chuckled, that sound mixing with his quiet sobs. “I’m going to fight another war, fight for the people I don’t even know. All of it is your fault,” despite the accusation, his voice was soft. “Oh, I miss you so much, Marco. Sometimes I think it would have been better, if you survived and I died in your place. You would have known what to do. You would have made the right choice, I’m sure.”

Jean took a shuddering breath, raising his head to look at the night sky. “Do you think I’m a good person, Marco?” he asked, his voice too loud in the quiet forest. “Do you think I can be called that, if I have doubts? If I still want to run and hide?”

Jean covered his eyes with his hand, taking another deep breath. All this pondering was pointless. He made his choice already. People were depending on him now. His friends were depending on him, Hange-san was depending on him. Even those fucking Marleyans were probably depending on his help as well. It was too late for doubts now.

Jean wiped his face with a sleeve, hoping that all sights of tears were gone. He would rather die than let anyone see him like that. Using tree as his support, he shakily got to his feet and dusted his coat. Then he started to walk back to their camp.

He hoped that everyone else was asleep. Someone asking why his eyes were so red was the last thing he needed right now.

But of course, because apparently the universe fucking hated him, as Jean neared the camp, he saw that someone was still sitting by the fire.

When she heard the quiet sound of leaves rustling under his feet, Hange turned to face him.

“Took you long enough,” she commented with a lopsided smile. “I was honestly starting to get worried.”

“What,” Jean took a sit next to his Commander. “Thought I was going to ditch you and join Yeagerists?”

“No,” Hange shook her head. “I never doubted you. But forests are quite dangerous at night.”

“After fighting with Titans, I don’t think it would be that hard to defeat a bear.”

Hange softly giggled. “Yeah, maybe, you’re right. By the way, I saved some stew for you,” she passed Jean a plate with a spoon. “Emotional breakdowns can be quite tiring.”

Accepting the stew, Jean smirked as he looked at Commander Hange. “Speaking from personal experience?”

She replied him with a smirk of her own. “That’s classified information. Commander’s secrets and all that.”

Jean gave a short laugh and then looked down to his plate, busying himself with eating the stew. As he ate, out of the corner of his eyes, Jean kept looking at Hange. She was absentmindedly stirring the ambers in the fire. There was a faraway look in her eyes, and she appeared to be deep in thought. Jean glanced slightly to his right and saw Captain Levi, resting beside her. From time to time, Hange also threw Captain a quick look, as though making sure that he was still here.

Jean suddenly felt sorry for his Commander. At least, he still had his friends and his mother, but Captain Levi was the only person Hange-san cared about. She had lost everyone else.

“Hange-san,” Jean lightly bumped against her shoulder, attracting her attention. “Have you ever…” he trailed off, feeling that his question was too personal and intrusive.

“Yeah?” she prompted, looking at him with a gentle look in her eye. “Have I ever what?”

Well, Jean started it, he may as well finish his question. “Have you ever wanted to escape? T-to leave all of this shit behind and just run away?”

Hange let out a short laugh, however that sound was devoid of any mirth. “I’ve been fighting this war for much longer than you, Jean,” she looked away from him, her eyes darting to Captain Levi’s still body. “I’ve suffered many losses and endured a lot of pain. I… of course, I’ve thought of leaving. More times than I can count. When Levi got injured, when I saw him, lying there in a pool of his own blood, the wreckage of that damned explosion surrounding him…” Hange’s voice shook slightly, but she continued, turning her gaze back to Jean and staring right at him. Making him see all of her pain. “That’s all I could think of. I wanted to run, I wanted to find a place to keep us, to keep him safe, and never leave it. But I couldn’t,” her lips curved into a sad smile. “I knew I had responsibility, one I couldn’t escape from. There are people, who still rely on me,” she paused, shaking her head. “For some idiotic reason you and your friends still believe in me. And… they… all of the friends that I’ve lost, all of the comrades, who sacrificed their lives for us to keep fighting, I can’t betray their trust. I can’t let their sacrifices be in vain.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hange fixed the glasses on her face, putting on a cheerful, but obviously fake smile. “I’ve dumped all this onto you. It’s probably not something you’ve wanted to hear. Before an important battle, one that probably will decide the fate of our world, I don’t think you want to hear that your Commander was this close to giving up.”

“No,” Jean shook his head. “You’re wrong. I did need to hear it. I was thinking of the same thing. Right before you came to visit Mikasa and me, I was having the same doubts. I thought it would be better to accept Floch’s plan, to let Eren do his thing and… and continue living my life, safe and happy. But then… I remembered Sasha’s smile and Marco’s kind eyes…”

“Marco?” Hange interrupted, cocking her head to the side with a curious look in my face.

“Oh, of course, you didn’t get to know him,” Jean looked away from her, feeling his eyes fill with tears once more. “He was with us in 104th, but… he died in Trost.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hange lowered her head. “That’s the boy you’ve mentioned before, right? When you punched Reiner?”

“Yeah,” Jean nodded, looking at his bruised knuckles.

“That was a good punch.”

“Should have hit him harder,” Jean protested. “That Titan freak will regenerate anyway.”

“Mm, I was kind of envious of you,” Hange commented, a mischievous grin appearing on her lips. “You can’t imagine how much I wanted to punch Magath’s stupid face.”

Jean couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Ah,” Hange sighed. “I’m afraid that’s one of the many cons to being a Commander. Now I can’t go around screaming at people or threatening them with violence.”

“Mm, I remember, you were quite wild back in your days.”

“That I w— Wait!” Hange glared at Jean. “Back in my days!? Am I that old?”

“Of course, not,” Jean put on his best suave smile. “I’ll be honest, Commander, if I was a bit older, I’d have the biggest of crushes on you. Although, I don’t think it would have been reciprocated – I am not Ackerman, after all.”

“And neither am I,” Hange replied, her eyes darting to Mikasa, who was sleeping not that far from them.

Jean’s cheeks flamed up, but he decided not to hide his embarrassment. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not really,” Hange shrugged. “But I am quite observant. Couldn’t become a Commander if I weren’t. And don’t worry,” she hugged Jean by the shoulder, her other hand coming to ruffle his hair. “You are still young. You still have time to win her over.”

Jean chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him. “Thank you for that talk. I really needed it. And… maybe, I won’t get another chance, so I wanted to say something to you. I know you don’t believe it, but you are a great Commander. You’re doing everything you can, and, even though, we’re in the deepest shit we’ve ever been, I’m not afraid, because I know you’ll be the one to lead us. I… really respect you and I’m honored to serve under your command.”

“Jean…” Hange swiftly pressed him to her chest, squeezing him tightly in her embrace. “Thank you,” she said with feeling. “It means a lot.”

Jean wanted to wave her off, to tell her that it’s nothing but the truth, but he was interrupted, when they heard a quiet grunting behind.

“I’m sorry,” Hange shot him an apologetic look. “It seems like my patient needs me. You should go and rest, by the way. Who knows when we’ll get the chance to do it next time.”

“Yeah, alright. Good night, Hange-san.”

She nodded and giving him one last smile, she turned to Captain Levi.

Jean searched for the spare sleeping bag, and when he found it, he lay down, closing his eyes. However, it didn’t seem like sleep was going to come easily to him. So he opened his eyes again, and watched Commander Hange and Captain Levi.

“Are you feeling any better?” Hange asked, starting to slowly and carefully unwrap Levi’s bandages.

“Not really,” he grumbled in reply. “How were negotiations? Had any success?”

“Not really,”Hange hummed. “But they’ve agreed to help and that’s all we really need from them. I wasn’t planning on becoming friends anyway. Now, come on,” she gently lifted Levi up, until he was half-sitting. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

As Jean continued to watch Hange and Levi out of the corner of his eyes, an image suddenly appeared in his mind.

He saw a small, but cozy cottage somewhere deep in the forest. Captain Levi is sitting on a porch, rocking in a chair with a cup of steaming tea in his hands. There is a small, but happy smile on his lips, as his eyes are focused on Hange-san, who was playing with two puppies or, maybe, she was chasing a couple of black-haired kids with big brown eyes? After finishing his tea, Captain Levi slowly gets to his feet and puts the cup down. He makes his way towards Hange-san, kissing her on the lips and taking her by the hand. He joins in on her fun, that same smile never leaving his lips and Hange-san’s laughter ringing through the woods.

And maybe— maybe, Jean will get to visit them. Maybe, if he’s extremely, extremely lucky, he won’t come all by himself. Maybe, a certain Ackerman will visit their superiors with him. And maybe, if Jean will become the luckiest man in this world, Mikasa will be holding a beautiful dark-haired girl by the hand, while Jean will be carrying a small boy in his arms.

Suddenly, and quite unfortunately, Jean’s fantasies were disturbed. A quite chuckle brought Jean back to Earth. As he turned around, meaning to send that person a mean glare, his eyes widened. Behind him was Mikasa. There was a soft, small smile on her lips as she watched Commander Hange and Captain Levi. As she saw that Jean was looking at her, her smile became bigger and her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.

Jean felt his own lips curving into a smile, as he gazed at Mikasa’s face.

He felt hope blossom inside his chest as his remembered Hange-san’s words. They were young. And even if their world had come to shit, maybe, they still had future.

And maybe, if he’s extremely lucky, Jean won’t be spending his future alone.

[solynaceawrites]

End of Sanctuary

Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins           Characters: Mael, Meliodas Tags: Post-Canon, Character Study, Canon Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort written for @nntzine​​ Summary: After the defeat of the Demon King, Mael returns to the only home he knows and engages in a festival to honor the ones who were lost.Originally written for Nanatsu no Taizine: Volume II and published in celebration of autumn.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is low in the sky when he reaches his home. Former home, he supposes, landing lightly in what was once the grand courtyard: the immaculate marble has cracked and fallen, the flowers overgrown by thistles and weeds. Mael tilts his head back, taking in the ruins of the spires of the Supreme Deity’s palace, listening to the wind whistle forlornly through the shattered windows and holes in the walls, and wonders if this is their punishment for their hubris. Dead leaves whisper through the grass, like the voices of so many ghosts; with a sigh, he kneels, sweeping dirt away from the walk. This is the place of his birth, and he remembers with a fond sort of ache the feasts and festivals that were held here, one in particular which was always dear to him.

The Feast of All Souls began as a prayer. To remember those who’d come before, goddesses lit candles within their homes and laid offerings of food and wine on their doorsteps. Eventually, with the war looming over their clan, the Supreme Deity had made it a public event, one which all were encouraged to attend. Private offerings were still left, yet the majority of the evening was spent in the city streets, buying masks and scraps of finest parchment upon which to write hopes, dreams, or words of remembrance. And, once the sun had set and the world was cool and quiet, in the grand courtyard a chosen member of their race would light the torches and dance, and those little bits of people’s lives would be fed to the bonfire, to reach the next life. Mael rubs a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. There is no one here, and yet . . .

He has no place in Britannia, nor a reason to return there. Too much suffering is on his shoulders, too much grief for him to express his own. And with the role he played in Escanor’s passing — how foolish he had been to believe that Elizabeth could heal the damage inflicted by Sunshine, how naive to trust in Escanor’s words over his own understanding of the man’s life — he would no doubt face scathing ire from the Sins, who loved Escanor as a comrade and a friend. And the Celestial Realm is in ruins, hardly fit to live in. Mael is well and truly alone in this world, and he presses himself to his feet and lifts his gaze to study the first blooming stars. He does not know where he will go from here, but he decides that, before he meets whatever fate is in store for him, he will honor those who lost their lives in this senseless war. 

He will reignite the flames of the Feast.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Mael stands in the center of the courtyard, watching as the sun begins its slow trek below the horizon. It is cold now, the seasons caught between autumn and winter, and the ivy that climbs the stone pillars is a vibrant, otherworldly green against the tawny hues of the rest of the world, and his breath condenses on the inside of the mask he wears. Only the Grace that had returned to him keeps him from truly feeling the chill; he is shirtless, his feet bare, and without Sunshine he would be trembling. Surrounding him are torches, burning brightly against the oncoming gloom, plates of food and wine at their bases, and a pile of dead branches waits for him to set it alight. His mind is as clear as it can be, his limbs tense for the dance he will perform. When the sun kisses the edge of the sky, he leans over and presses one of his own torches to the kindling, and the bonfire, soaked in oil, roars to life.

Then Mael begins to dance.

It is Ludoshel he thinks of first, the brother he had all but worshipped in his youth. He remembers his first flight—more of a glide, really, his wings too small and his feathers too new to hold him aloft for more than a few moments—how Ludoshel beamed with pride as he landed awkwardly on his feet and ruffled the hair that never laid as prettily as his own. Nights passed with stories, his brother tracing the constellations in the sky and telling them how they came to be: the Warrior, forever chasing the Queen he loved; the clever Fox that marked the beginning of autumn, the Saint and the King and the Dove, until Mael’s head was full of starlight and dreams. Ludoshel’s comfort when he was injured, his hands calloused yet soothing as he bandaged scrapes. Ludoshel, his voice hoarse with held-back tears as he clapped Mael on the shoulder and congratulated him on becoming an Archangel. His brother, and confidante, who had his flaws yet was always good to him. 

Mael flicks out an arm, the torch in that hand dangling by his fingertips. To my brother, without whom I would not be. I thank you.

Escanor comes next. Though they had barely known each other at all, the man had been full of kindness and love, the type of person Mael wished he had been three thousand years ago. Their meeting had been violent, to be sure, but even then, even as Estarossa, he had felt a genuine respect for the one who stood against his decree, and knows now that Sunshine did not aid him in that feat. Escanor had not been capable of hatred; his heart was too pure, his capacity for understanding too great. Even in his grief, he had not been cruel, each action meant to end Mael’s life as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, perhaps that is too generous, but whether or not Escanor knew that Cruel Sun would cause a slow death, Mael does not know. They had been bound by Sunshine and Mael had found him, and Escanor had pleaded with him, not once but twice, refusing to accept the self-loathing brewing within Mael’s chest. 

He crouches, twisting the torches over his head in a shower of sparks. To Escanor, who was all that I hoped to be and more. I thank you. 

Sariel, who taught him to read the affection that lurked beneath abrasive words, and Tarmiel, the one who had never given up his hope that Mael was good, both dead by his hands. Sariel’s tongue had always been like sandpaper, yet he had been the one to teach him how to be agile, how to stay moving in the air so no one enemy could get close enough to do him harm. Tarmiel, gentle and sweet, had encouraged him, shown him the proper way to grip a sword and how he could use his size to make his opponents think he was slower than he was to keep the upper hand. Monspeet, an unwilling victim of the illness that had festered within Mael as the decree at away at his sanity; Derieri, who sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him; Oslo, who was Rou, a loyal companion that devoured Mael’s magic so that the Fairy King could live. 

Without that, without them, he would not have survived, and he lets the fire lick his shoulders as he draws the torches along his chest. To those who gave themselves so that I would be free. I thank you.

In one fluid movement, he lunges forward and places the torches atop the fire, his magic working to heal his hands even as they burn. Then he steps back, removing the mask he had carved from silver aspen and the ceremonial trousers woven from red-dyed wool before placing them within the pile as well, the flames devouring the hopes and prayers held within the objects, turning them into smoke that will hopefully reach the souls they are meant for. The sun is long gone now, the moon at the apex of its journey, and the sweat that had formed as he danced grows cold along his legs and back. Mael picks up the flask of wine he’d brought for himself and opens it to drink, uncaring of his nudity. He must watch until the fire dies, and then he can rest until dawn. Checking the offerings will come in the morning; so he sits and drinks and fasts till only embers remain, smoldering against the shattered stone.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The next morning, he exits his makeshift home, exhausted and more than a little hungover. A quick Invigorate cures him of the latter, but his bones ache as he treks by to the courtyard to clean up the remnants from the Feast. It is an unusually bright day, the sky clear and free of clouds, and the sun warms his back as he kneels down to inspect the first of the offerings, finding it nearly gone. With a faint smile, he moves to the next, and the next, and the last, and each of them has been disturbed more than the birds are capable of, the gifts picked thoroughly and more than half-missing. The sign of a good Feast and answered prayers lifts a weight Mael hadn’t realized he was carrying from his shoulders. He knows that he is by no means forgiven for the atrocities he committed, yet the sight of empty baskets puts him at ease; perhaps now those left behind can begin their healing. He pauses next to the remains of the bonfire to tilt his head back, studying the clear blue stretching endlessly above his head. 

“Autumn,” Ludoshel says, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “is a time of rest so that we can be reborn anew, like all that the Supreme Deity’s light touches.”

“I miss you,” Mael replies.

His voice echoes flatly in the air, and he closes his eyes against the grief that swells within him. Rest to be reborn anew. 

Footsteps crunch over the dirt, drawing Mael’s attention to the ruined stairs. To his surprise, Meliodas is standing there, his hands in his pockets as he surveys their surroundings, his brows furrowed with what can only be contemplation. Then his green eyes cut across the theater to Mael, and his usual grin slides into place. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says cheerfully, crossing to him. “Or hoped, actually, but Elizabeth said this is where you were most likely to go.”

Mael can only stare at him while his mind tries to comprehend Meliodas being in the Celestial Realm. “Why?” he asks.

He supposes it could have meant why are you looking for me, or why did Elizabeth send you, and Meliodas chooses to answer the former. “I have a proposition for you.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, the Sins do. With Escanor gone, we’re short one, and all of us are used to fighting with Sunshine around. So we want you to join us. There probably won’t be much fighting,” Meliodas adds when Mael stiffens, “since the war is over, which means you’ll mostly be helping run the Boar’s Hat and keeping the peace when we have to.”

He isn’t sure what to make of the offer. “I’m not sure I’m suited to becoming his legacy.”

Meliodas waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s asking for that, or for you to become the Sin of Pride. We’re offering a home, and a chance to do something other than stay here, alone.” His gaze is calculating now as he looks at Mael, almost as though he is daring him to refuse, and he nearly smiles as the old, Estarossa-like desire to meet the challenge swells within him.

“Alright,” Mael agrees. “I’ll go with you. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Buy me a drink.”

Meliodas grins, holding out a hand that Mael clasps warmly within his own, and there’s a rush of fear, longing and hope that makes him tremble. Be reborn, he thinks. I’ll try my best, brother.

[sarah-cam]

i love jon snow. i really, truly do. but if you think that this show is ending with him as the hero for any other reason besides pure misogyny, you are completely ignorant.

jon does not deserve the iron throne, and he does not deserve to be the hero of this story.

is he a good, honorable man? yes. is he a hero? yes.

daenerys targaryen suffered through a childhood of poverty. she suffered through being mentally, physically, and sexually abused by her brother, her only living family. she suffered through years of assassins being sent to kill her, since she was a baby, simply because of her name. she was sold by her brother to a warlord as a sex slave. she was raped and brutalized. she eventually developed feelings of love for her husband as a means to survive. she suffered through the death of her husband and baby, blaming herself for both and actually having to be the one to kill her husband out of mercy. she managed to do the impossible and emerge from fire with three baby dragons, her children. she lead her people through the red waste, suffering with them as they all almost died of starvation and dehydration. she managed to negotiate her people’s safety in qaarth. she was betrayed by one of her best friends, resulting in the murder of her other best friend and the slaughter of her people. she moved on to liberate cities, free slaves, and execute justice on those who enslaved them.

she had the chance to leave slaver’s bay, to have a fleet and an army to take king’s landing, and she refused. she set aside her one goal in life in order to ensure the end of slavery and gain experience as a good ruler. when she was attacked and betrayed at every turn, her soldiers slaughtered, she refused to give in to the masters. when her dragons, her children, killed an innocent, she locked them away. she tried to negotiate a compromise with the people/masters to stop the killings by the sons of the harpy, only to be attacked and have even more of her soldiers killed. she went against the khalasar who kidnapped and whipped her, wanted to gang rape her, and forever enslave her in the dosh khaleen. she freed the dothraki women from the khals and banned them all from raping and killing. she outlawed raping, killing, and pillaging from the iron islands. she sacrificed one of her children to save jon & co. beyond the wall, against the advice of all of her council. she pledged herself and her forces to jon before he bent the knee. she fought alongside the extremely rude, disrespectful, petty, xenophobic northerners at the cost of her most trusted advisor and over half of her armies.

she lost another one of her dragons and had to watch as her best friend was brutally beheaded in front of her eyes.

she was told time and time again that she was nothing. that she would go mad because her father was the “mad king”, because she was a targaryen, despite everything she’s done to prove herself as a good and just ruler.

and then she learned that the man she loved, the only person truly on her side, betrayed her. and now everyone else she had left immediately started conspiring to kill or overthrow her.

you want to say she went mad because “she’s a targaryen” and then argue that jon, who is also a targaryen, is the hero in the same breath?

why? because he has a dick? because he wasn’t raised by the madness, even though neither was dany?

what about aemon targaryen? visenya targaryen? rhaenys targaryen? alysanne targaryen? baelor targaryen? jaeherys targaryen? daeron II? aegon V? viserys I? viserys II? rhaella? what about them? can she not be good, like them?

all daenerys will ever be remembered as is the foreign whore that brought savages to kill your children, the mad queen that burned cities to ashes even after surrender. for revenge. for power.

when daenerys should be remembered as is the woman who gave everything, every part of herself because she wanted a home, only to be betrayed and murdered by the only man she has ever truly loved.

the great house targaryen will die with her.

what was it all for? what was the point of revealing jon’s identity if not for any other reason than to use it as a way to tear daenerys down, destroy her confidence, turn her allies against her? what was the point of their relationship? so that it can be so “poetic” and “devastating” when he kills her? so that jon can “feel bad” and wallow in self-pity for the rest of his life?

what was the point of jon snow? if you think the only character destruction i’m mad about is dany, you’re wrong. what was the point of jon? he doesn’t carry on the targaryen house. he doesn’t rule. he may have brought the different armies together to fight the dead but in the end, he isn’t “the prince that was promised”. literally, what was the point if he just goes back to being the bastard of winterfell, living his life on/beyond the wall? or really, any of the starks. what was the point of “the lone wolf dies but the pack survives” when they all end up alone?

what was the point of jaime? jaime who risked everything to kill the mad king and save innocent lives, that apparently “doesn’t care about innocent lives”. that after years and years of character development, ends up leaving a woman who loves him despite everything he’s done, just to go back to the abusive sister he finally left.

what was the point of cersei? the true mad queen, as it’s been shown time and time again. who would rather die, see millions die, than lose. who killed innocent people in the sept, leading to the death of her own son. you want me to feel sympathy for her? you want to make her the good guy? play sad music and cry while she begs not to die? (not to mention killing a pregnant woman on mother’s day -- that’s a whole other thing right there)

what about grey worm? a character who started as a brutalized slave, meant to show no emotion and care about no one. he went through hell and survived to be liberated, to find love, to find his humanity. only for it to be taken away right in front of him. only for him to dishonor missandei’s memory by losing the humanity he worked so hard for, to kill and kill and kill. because hey, that’s what he was always meant to be, right -- a killer.

and missandei? a woman who had been through hell, who was freed from chains only to die in chains.

missandei deserved better. grey worm deserved better. jaime lannister deserved better. (brienne deserved better)

jon snow deserved better.

and daenerys targaryen deserved fucking better.

[binsofchaos]

Toni Morrison | Nobel Lecture December 7, 1993

We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.

“Once upon a time there was an old woman. Blind but wise.” Or was it an old man? A guru, perhaps. Or a griot soothing restless children. I have heard this story, or one exactly like it, in the lore of several cultures.

“Once upon a time there was an old woman. Blind. Wise.”

In the version I know the woman is the daughter of slaves, black, American, and lives alone in a small house outside of town. Her reputation for wisdom is without peer and without question. Among her people she is both the law and its transgression. The honor she is paid and the awe in which she is held reach beyond her neighborhood to places far away; to the city where the intelligence of rural prophets is the source of much amusement.

One day the woman is visited by some young people who seem to be bent on disproving her clairvoyance and showing her up for the fraud they believe she is. Their plan is simple: they enter her house and ask the one question the answer to which rides solely on her difference from them, a difference they regard as a profound disability: her blindness. They stand before her, and one of them says, “Old woman, I hold in my hand a bird. Tell me whether it is living or dead.”

She does not answer, and the question is repeated. “Is the bird I am holding living or dead?”

Still she doesn’t answer. She is blind and cannot see her visitors, let alone what is in their hands. She does not know their color, gender or homeland. She only knows their motive.

The old woman’s silence is so long, the young people have trouble holding their laughter.

Finally she speaks and her voice is soft but stern. “I don’t know”, she says. “I don’t know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.”

Her answer can be taken to mean: if it is dead, you have either found it that way or you have killed it. If it is alive, you can still kill it. Whether it is to stay alive, it is your decision. Whatever the case, it is your responsibility.

For parading their power and her helplessness, the young visitors are reprimanded, told they are responsible not only for the act of mockery but also for the small bundle of life sacrificed to achieve its aims. The blind woman shifts attention away from assertions of power to the instrument through which that power is exercised.

Speculation on what (other than its own frail body) that bird-in-the-hand might signify has always been attractive to me, but especially so now thinking, as I have been, about the work I do that has brought me to this company. So I choose to read the bird as language and the woman as a practiced writer. She is worried about how the language she dreams in, given to her at birth, is handled, put into service, even withheld from her for certain nefarious purposes. Being a writer she thinks of language partly as a system, partly as a living thing over which one has control, but mostly as agency – as an act with consequences. So the question the children put to her: “Is it living or dead?” is not unreal because she thinks of language as susceptible to death, erasure; certainly imperiled and salvageable only by an effort of the will. She believes that if the bird in the hands of her visitors is dead the custodians are responsible for the corpse. For her a dead language is not only one no longer spoken or written, it is unyielding language content to admire its own paralysis. Like statist language, censored and censoring. Ruthless in its policing duties, it has no desire or purpose other than maintaining the free range of its own narcotic narcissism, its own exclusivity and dominance. However moribund, it is not without effect for it actively thwarts the intellect, stalls conscience, suppresses human potential. Unreceptive to interrogation, it cannot form or tolerate new ideas, shape other thoughts, tell another story, fill baffling silences. Official language smitheryed to sanction ignorance and preserve privilege is a suit of armor polished to shocking glitter, a husk from which the knight departed long ago. Yet there it is: dumb, predatory, sentimental. Exciting reverence in schoolchildren, providing shelter for despots, summoning false memories of stability, harmony among the public.

She is convinced that when language dies, out of carelessness, disuse, indifference and absence of esteem, or killed by fiat, not only she herself, but all users and makers are accountable for its demise. In her country children have bitten their tongues off and use bullets instead to iterate the voice of speechlessness, of disabled and disabling language, of language adults have abandoned altogether as a device for grappling with meaning, providing guidance, or expressing love. But she knows tongue-suicide is not only the choice of children. It is common among the infantile heads of state and power merchants whose evacuated language leaves them with no access to what is left of their human instincts for they speak only to those who obey, or in order to force obedience.

The systematic looting of language can be recognized by the tendency of its users to forgo its nuanced, complex, mid-wifery properties for menace and subjugation. Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence; does more than represent the limits of knowledge; it limits knowledge. Whether it is obscuring state language or the faux-language of mindless media; whether it is the proud but calcified language of the academy or the commodity driven language of science; whether it is the malign language of law-without-ethics, or language designed for the estrangement of minorities, hiding its racist plunder in its literary cheek – it must be rejected, altered and exposed. It is the language that drinks blood, laps vulnerabilities, tucks its fascist boots under crinolines of respectability and patriotism as it moves relentlessly toward the bottom line and the bottomed-out mind. Sexist language, racist language, theistic language – all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.

The old woman is keenly aware that no intellectual mercenary, nor insatiable dictator, no paid-for politician or demagogue; no counterfeit journalist would be persuaded by her thoughts. There is and will be rousing language to keep citizens armed and arming; slaughtered and slaughtering in the malls, courthouses, post offices, playgrounds, bedrooms and boulevards; stirring, memorializing language to mask the pity and waste of needless death. There will be more diplomatic language to countenance rape, torture, assassination. There is and will be more seductive, mutant language designed to throttle women, to pack their throats like paté-producing geese with their own unsayable, transgressive words; there will be more of the language of surveillance disguised as research; of politics and history calculated to render the suffering of millions mute; language glamorized to thrill the dissatisfied and bereft into assaulting their neighbors; arrogant pseudo-empirical language crafted to lock creative people into cages of inferiority and hopelessness.

Underneath the eloquence, the glamor, the scholarly associations, however stirring or seductive, the heart of such language is languishing, or perhaps not beating at all – if the bird is already dead.

She has thought about what could have been the intellectual history of any discipline if it had not insisted upon, or been forced into, the waste of time and life that rationalizations for and representations of dominance required – lethal discourses of exclusion blocking access to cognition for both the excluder and the excluded.

The conventional wisdom of the Tower of Babel story is that the collapse was a misfortune. That it was the distraction, or the weight of many languages that precipitated the tower’s failed architecture. That one monolithic language would have expedited the building and heaven would have been reached. Whose heaven, she wonders? And what kind? Perhaps the achievement of Paradise was premature, a little hasty if no one could take the time to understand other languages, other views, other narratives period. Had they, the heaven they imagined might have been found at their feet. Complicated, demanding, yes, but a view of heaven as life; not heaven as post-life.

She would not want to leave her young visitors with the impression that language should be forced to stay alive merely to be. The vitality of language lies in its ability to limn the actual, imagined and possible lives of its speakers, readers, writers. Although its poise is sometimes in displacing experience it is not a substitute for it. It arcs toward the place where meaning may lie. When a President of the United States thought about the graveyard his country had become, and said, “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here. But it will never forget what they did here,” his simple words are exhilarating in their life-sustaining properties because they refused to encapsulate the reality of 600, 000 dead men in a cataclysmic race war. Refusing to monumentalize, disdaining the “final word”, the precise “summing up”, acknowledging their “poor power to add or detract”, his words signal deference to the uncapturability of the life it mourns. It is the deference that moves her, that recognition that language can never live up to life once and for all. Nor should it. Language can never “pin down” slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity is in its reach toward the ineffable.

Be it grand or slender, burrowing, blasting, or refusing to sanctify; whether it laughs out loud or is a cry without an alphabet, the choice word, the chosen silence, unmolested language surges toward knowledge, not its destruction. But who does not know of literature banned because it is interrogative; discredited because it is critical; erased because alternate? And how many are outraged by the thought of a self-ravaged tongue?

Word-work is sublime, she thinks, because it is generative; it makes meaning that secures our difference, our human difference – the way in which we are like no other life.

We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.

“Once upon a time, …” visitors ask an old woman a question. Who are they, these children? What did they make of that encounter? What did they hear in those final words: “The bird is in your hands”? A sentence that gestures towards possibility or one that drops a latch? Perhaps what the children heard was “It’s not my problem. I am old, female, black, blind. What wisdom I have now is in knowing I cannot help you. The future of language is yours.”

They stand there. Suppose nothing was in their hands? Suppose the visit was only a ruse, a trick to get to be spoken to, taken seriously as they have not been before? A chance to interrupt, to violate the adult world, its miasma of discourse about them, for them, but never to them? Urgent questions are at stake, including the one they have asked: “Is the bird we hold living or dead?” Perhaps the question meant: “Could someone tell us what is life? What is death?” No trick at all; no silliness. A straightforward question worthy of the attention of a wise one. An old one. And if the old and wise who have lived life and faced death cannot describe either, who can?

But she does not; she keeps her secret; her good opinion of herself; her gnomic pronouncements; her art without commitment. She keeps her distance, enforces it and retreats into the singularity of isolation, in sophisticated, privileged space.

Nothing, no word follows her declaration of transfer. That silence is deep, deeper than the meaning available in the words she has spoken. It shivers, this silence, and the children, annoyed, fill it with language invented on the spot.

“Is there no speech,” they ask her, “no words you can give us that helps us break through your dossier of failures? Through the education you have just given us that is no education at all because we are paying close attention to what you have done as well as to what you have said? To the barrier you have erected between generosity and wisdom?

“We have no bird in our hands, living or dead. We have only you and our important question. Is the nothing in our hands something you could not bear to contemplate, to even guess? Don’t you remember being young when language was magic without meaning? When what you could say, could not mean? When the invisible was what imagination strove to see? When questions and demands for answers burned so brightly you trembled with fury at not knowing?

“Do we have to begin consciousness with a battle heroines and heroes like you have already fought and lost leaving us with nothing in our hands except what you have imagined is there? Your answer is artful, but its artfulness embarrasses us and ought to embarrass you. Your answer is indecent in its self-congratulation. A made-for-television script that makes no sense if there is nothing in our hands.

“Why didn’t you reach out, touch us with your soft fingers, delay the sound bite, the lesson, until you knew who we were? Did you so despise our trick, our modus operandi you could not see that we were baffled about how to get your attention? We are young. Unripe. We have heard all our short lives that we have to be responsible. What could that possibly mean in the catastrophe this world has become; where, as a poet said, “nothing needs to be exposed since it is already barefaced.” Our inheritance is an affront. You want us to have your old, blank eyes and see only cruelty and mediocrity. Do you think we are stupid enough to perjure ourselves again and again with the fiction of nationhood? How dare you talk to us of duty when we stand waist deep in the toxin of your past?

“You trivialize us and trivialize the bird that is not in our hands. Is there no context for our lives? No song, no literature, no poem full of vitamins, no history connected to experience that you can pass along to help us start strong? You are an adult. The old one, the wise one. Stop thinking about saving your face. Think of our lives and tell us your particularized world. Make up a story. Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created. We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp; if love so ignites your words they go down in flames and nothing is left but their scald. Or if, with the reticence of a surgeon’s hands, your words suture only the places where blood might flow. We know you can never do it properly – once and for all. Passion is never enough; neither is skill. But try. For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul. You, old woman, blessed with blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. Language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. Language alone is meditation.

“Tell us what it is to be a woman so that we may know what it is to be a man. What moves at the margin. What it is to have no home in this place. To be set adrift from the one you knew. What it is to live at the edge of towns that cannot bear your company.

“Tell us about ships turned away from shorelines at Easter, placenta in a field. Tell us about a wagonload of slaves, how they sang so softly their breath was indistinguishable from the falling snow. How they knew from the hunch of the nearest shoulder that the next stop would be their last. How, with hands prayered in their sex, they thought of heat, then sun. Lifting their faces as though it was there for the taking. Turning as though there for the taking. They stop at an inn. The driver and his mate go in with the lamp leaving them humming in the dark. The horse’s void steams into the snow beneath its hooves and its hiss and melt are the envy of the freezing slaves.

“The inn door opens: a girl and a boy step away from its light. They climb into the wagon bed. The boy will have a gun in three years, but now he carries a lamp and a jug of warm cider. They pass it from mouth to mouth. The girl offers bread, pieces of meat and something more: a glance into the eyes of the one she serves. One helping for each man, two for each woman. And a look. They look back. The next stop will be their last. But not this one. This one is warmed.”

It’s quiet again when the children finish speaking, until the woman breaks into the silence.

“Finally”, she says, “I trust you now. I trust you with the bird that is not in your hands because you have truly caught it. Look. How lovely it is, this thing we have done – together.”

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/books/best-toni-morrison-books.html

[giftofshewbread]

REPENT, The End is Near!

By Lynda Janzen    Published on: May 9, 2021

“Jesus said, ‘But unless you repent, you too will all perish'” (Luke 13:5, NIV).

“If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV).

“Devote yourselves to prayer…” (Colossians 4:2). “Pray continually” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). “The end of all things is near. Therefore be alert and of sober mind that you may pray” (1 Peter 4:7).

A few years ago, I gave myself a nickname: Mrs. Jeremiah. It has nothing to do with Rev. Dr. David Jeremiah but everything to do with the Old Testament prophet. When the LORD led me to Bible Prophecy and opened my eyes to what was happening in the world, in light of both O.T. and N.T. prophecy, some of my messages, as Jeremiah’s, weren’t exactly comfortable for people, or for me either. Jeremiah wasn’t exactly popular in his day, and this message today probably won’t win me any popularity contests. But these messages open our eyes to see what is happening in the world so that we will not be caught in the darkness of ignorance of the signs of the times (1 Thess. 5:4).

In the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24), Jesus prophesied that when the nation of Israel – the fig tree – would blossom once more, it would be a sign that the end was coming near (24:32). Israel roared back into existence on May 14, 1948 – 73 years ago. Psalm 90 tells us a human lifespan is about 70 years – 80 if we are blessed with stamina. Jesus said the generation that saw the re-budding of the ‘fig tree,’ or Israel, would witness all the prophecy of Matthew 24 (24:34). According to God’s Word, then, that would be us!

Let me just pause here to say, if you haven’t read Matthew 24, Mark 13, and Luke 21 lately, go immediately to a Bible near you and do so.

Earlier this week, I had a dream. “Oh boy!! An old woman dreaming dreams … here we go …” Please, just bear with me. Before dropping off to sleep, I had asked the LORD that, if it be His will, to send me a dream about the Rapture and to let me remember it. Well, He did send me a dream, and I remembered it in great detail. And although I’m not prepared to go into all the details of the dream at this time, let me say it sure shook me up and got me thinking about how very close we are to the end of the age. Not that I didn’t have an inkling about the imminence of the Rapture and tribulation before. But, in the vernacular – Hold onto your hats, folks!

The dream illustrated how our modern nations, especially the U.S., are barreling headlong toward destruction. Nations seem to follow, blindly, a minority of political influencers, while the majority sit back meekly doing nothing, saying nothing, or saying very little. We watch as all our time-honored institutions are crumbling before our eyes. Like deer caught in headlights, it is as though we are mesmerized by the audacity of those taking us increasingly to the left, politically. Young people, who aren’t being taught Judeo-Christian values, are screaming for change without understanding where those changes will lead.

And, of course, there are plenty of seasoned politicians who have been trying for years to pull us away from God and all things moral and life-giving, and who are ready to fuel the rebellion with money, encouragement and a platform.

While those of us who are Bible-literate understand what’s happening, there are many who do not.

They surely do not understand that it is all part of God’s Plan for the end of the age … and here’s the kicker … and you’re not going to like this … THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT ANYMORE! Oh, yes, you can pray … and, indeed, I urge you to pray with all your heart for the many who are not saved.

But Christians, please be ready. For the Church Age is coming rapidly to a close, and it is all happening in God’s Will, and God’s Timeline.

The hymn is: IF MY PEOPLE’S HEARTS ARE HUMBLED

1st Verse:

If My people’s hearts are humbled, If they pray and seek My face; If they turn away from evil, I will not withhold My grace. I will hear their prayers from heaven; I will pardon every sin. If My people’s hearts are humbled, I will surely heal their land.

2nd Verse:

Then My eyes will see their sorrow; Then My ears will hear their plea. If My people’s hearts are humbled I will set their nation free. If My people’s hearts are humbled, If they pray and seek My face; If they turn away from evil, I will not withhold My grace.

THE SCRIPTURE READING IS JEREMIAH 14:11-16

“Then the Lord said to me, ‘Do not pray for the well-being of this people. Although they fast, I will not listen to their cry; though they offer burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them. Instead, I will destroy them with the sword, famine and plague.’

“But I said, ‘Alas, Sovereign Lord! The prophets keep telling them, ‘You will not see the sword or suffer famine. Indeed, I will give you lasting peace in this place.’

“Then the Lord said to me, ‘The prophets are prophesying lies in my name. I have not sent them or appointed them or spoken to them. They are prophesying to you false visions, divinations, idolatries and the delusions of their own minds. Therefore this is what the Lord says about the prophets who are prophesying in my name: I did not send them, yet they are saying, ‘No sword or famine will touch this land.’ Those same prophets will perish by sword and famine. And the people they are prophesying to will be thrown out into the streets of Jerusalem because of the famine and sword. There will be no one to bury them, their wives, their sons and their daughters. I will pour out on them the calamity they deserve.”

Let us bow to Almighty God in prayer:

Dearest Heavenly Father,

Your Word in the Book of Jeremiah tells us of a time when You had had enough of wickedness in the land of Judah. Though people sacrificed to You and prayed for You to relent in Your wrath, You knew that only total destruction would be the catalyst to bring them back to You. Father, we are at a time now where, according to Your Holy Word, it looks as though there is no turning back. Our nations are wicked, through and through. They practice the black arts of abortion and sexual depravity. Our scientists are meddling with Your original design, trying to improve on it! Their hubris, LORD God, is beyond imagining.

LORD, today we pray for those who are genuinely Yours, who have surrendered their lives to Jesus, that we will trust in You, in Your promises to protect us and keep us from the Evil One. We pray also for any who might be on the cusp of coming to You, that they will see Your Light of Life and Love very soon and surrender their lives to Jesus Christ. And we pray, Father, that those who are blind to Your holiness and even to Your existence will have a chance to call on Your Name, and so be saved. These things we pray in the sure, strong and Holy Name of Yeshua Ha’Maschiach. Amen.

By God’s own Word, we know there was a beginning to this age, and there is an end, planned by the LORD God Himself, and over which we have no control whatever. Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” Even the Son of God, Himself, prayed that very prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before He died on the cross. “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me, yet not My will, but Yours be done.” If we haven’t yet learned this principle in our Christian walk, we need to do so, and do it NOW.

This world is not about us, beloved Christians. It is about God’s glory in His creation. We are His creation, made to reflect back to Him His glory. Jesus did that, and He did it every day of His earthly life. Though Jesus was fully God, He was also fully man. His humanity was not less than our own. Jesus laughed, cried, celebrated, mourned, ate, slept and did all the things human beings do. He knew pain. He knew sorrow. He knew joy and laughter. But all of His life He gave to the Father and did nothing outside of the Will of Almighty God.

So, saying all that, how does it fit with our Scripture verses from Jeremiah?

Well, for one thing, the people of Judah in Jeremiah’s day certainly were NOT living in the Will of the Creator. In the space of just a handful of generations away from King David, the Jews (as well as the Israelites) had turned away from Almighty God, had lusted after pagan gods and their detestable practices. And let me just say here that this present generation, with all science’s monkeying around with the human genome, has likely far surpassed the evil done in Jeremiah’s generation … the evil which brought down God’s wrath on the nations of Judah and Israel.

Many in the Church cite the 2 Chronicles prayer as being a means of saving our nations. I hear pastors invite their congregations to say it with the expectation that God stands ready to hear it and, PRESTO, make all things the way they were. Really? What about the “humble hearts” part? If every person in the world, every man, woman and child, called upon the Name of the LORD, and humbled him- or herself before Him, and turned from their wickedness, I strongly suspect our world would indeed be healed by God’s hand. But I also strongly suspect that the LORD God knew there would be a tipping point, beyond which there was (is) no going back.

The tipping point in Jeremiah’s day was the deceit of the prophets. Jeremiah tells the LORD, “The prophets keep telling them they will not see the sword or suffer famine, and that You, LORD, are going to give them peace in the land.” But the LORD God says, “The prophets are prophesying lies in My Name. I have not sent them or appointed them or spoken to them. They are prophesying to you false visions, divination, idolatries, and the delusions of their own minds.”

Let’s bring that to the present age. One thing we keep hearing constantly these days is, “Fake News!” There is little doubt that politicians lie with straight faces to the cameras and to our faces. They call evil for good and good for evil (Isaiah 5:20). They tell us a global pandemic is so dangerous that we must ruin our national economies to deal with it. There is so much deceit in our world today that it has become almost impossible to know what is real and what isn’t.

False visions are leading us away from the One Source of love and protection human beings have ever had – God! Western nations are worshiping at the altars of demons and false gods once again. For heaven’s sake, there is a sneaker for sale that celebrates Satan and even contains a drop of real human blood!! Really.

Divinations? Well, daily newspapers have been running horoscope columns for almost a century. But much more than that, today we have ‘prognosticators’ of everything under the sun, from weathermen to stockbrokers, even to medical people. So-called ‘experts’ in every field sway your brain daily to buy stuff you don’t need and adopt habits that are bad for your soul. This is done through non-stop advertising.

Idolatries? How about the worship of sports figures and Hollywood ‘stars’? Kids today know way more about movie and sports stars than they do about Jesus Christ. “God? Oh yeah … the sky fairy who grants all your wishes – NOT!” (That was a real post I read on a news website not long ago.)

Delusions of their own minds? How about this one? “There are 382 genders!” or “A man can give birth.” or “Love is love no matter who it is with.”

And what does the LORD God have to say about all this depravity? “I will pour out on them the calamity they deserve.”

Now, this is Old Testament. Jesus went to the cross so that we wouldn’t end up with the calamity we deserve … BUT ONLY IF WE REPENT, TURN FROM OUR INIQUITY, AND LIVE THE REST OF OUR LIVES FOR AND IN HIM. What percentage of the world’s people have actually done this?

Can the LORD bring revival at this late date? Of course. The question is: How many would turn to Him? A few million? There are seven, almost eight billion people on the planet today. Believers, we are way past the tipping point. It is a great tribute to Our God that His patience hasn’t run out yet. As Apostle Peter says, “People will say, ‘Where is this coming He promised? Ever since our ancestors died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.'”

“But do not forget this one thing, dearest friends: With the LORD a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day. The LORD is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. Instead He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the LORD will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare” (2 Peter 3:4, 8-10)

There is an end, my friends. I don’t write this to scare you but to make you see that it is inevitable and that you have no control over it. It is the LORD God’s domain. Therefore, trust in Him. Do His Will. Love Him, and keep His commands, and there will never ever be a need to fear anything. Jesus has said, “Since you have kept My command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth” (Revelation 3:10).

Repent! The end IS near! Hallelujah, Amen.

Heavenly Father: All glory and praise to You for loving us so much that You sent Your One and Only Son to earth to redeem us from original sin, open the gates of eternal life, and restore all things. Please open hearts and minds today, Father, to the urgency of claiming Christ as our Saviour. This we pray through Him, Yeshua Ha’Maschiach, our LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.

This devotional, based on God’s Holy Word, was written by Lynda Janzen, Kincardine, ON Canada, with the inspiration of God’s own Holy Spirit. All glory to God.

If anyone reading this email has not yet received Jesus as their Saviour, but God has touched your heart by His Holy Word, please email me (amadea649@gmail.com) or find a Bible-believing local church and ask the Pastor what you must do to be saved in Grace. In the meantime, please consider the ABCs of Salvation:

Salvation as simple as ABC:

A: Admit that you are a sinner. This is where Godly sorrow leads to genuine repentance for sinning against a righteous God, and there is a change of heart; we change our mind, and God changes our hearts and regenerates us from the inside out.

Romans 3:10 – “As it is written: ‘There is no one righteous, not even one.'”

Romans 3:23 – “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Romans 6:23 – “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Ephesians 2:8-9 – “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith —and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

B: Believe in your heart that Jesus Christ died for your sins, was buried, and that God raised Jesus from the dead. This is trusting with all of your heart that Jesus Christ is who he said he was.

Romans 10:9-10 – “That if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”

John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

C: Call upon the name of the Lord. Every single person who ever lived since Adam will bend their knee and confess with their mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord, the Lord of lords and the King of kings.

Romans 14:11 – “It is written: ‘As surely as I live, says the Lord, every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to God.'”

Romans 10:13 – “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

[starfaring-princelotor]

Do you think the only reason why people aren’t critical of VLD Allura is because she doesn’t look like eighties Allura? Because if people are critical of PD from SU then they most certainly should be that way with VLD Allura

I do not know about other people’s reasoning when it comes to being critical of Allura vs 80′s Allura, but I would like to remind people that both PD and Allura are aliens. Anyways, I can tell you my guess about Allura vs PD in this essay. Given, I have not kept up with SU for a while, so most of my knowledge about PD’s actions are based off of the series. I did not see the movie nor anything after that. Consider this a full disclosure that, yes, I am making assumptions from posts I see here.

But here is one reason why I PD gets scrutinized while Allura does not: aftermath. 

When SU started, the war was over, and everyone lives except the martyr. Everything seems fine and dandy, Earth is saved, people are saved, and there is a sort of...post-war catharsis feeling the viewers get when watching the first few episodes. Sure, the gang are doing their duties out of loyalty and honor, even after their leader has died, but it is not until the later episodes where you see the true aftermath of PD’s death rise to surface. And I definitely give props to all the writers and designers who included this tidbit that happily ever after still has its very unhappy moments. 

Honestly? That is more realistic than Voltron’s ending, even though both series had a self-sacrificing martyr at the end.

It has been said many times before, and people even see it in shows like FMA, where being a hero does not always have heroic consequences for others. When people say, “One must fight so that all could be free” they mean ALL and not some. And yet, Voltron tends to push aside how catastrophically bad life would be for the “losing” side while fluffing up everyone else’s life in a utopia-esque “See? Things are better now! No more bad ever happened again. :)” haze. 

But of course. Yes, you see blips of the good, but where is the real good? By this, I mean what about the “bad” guys’ ending? 

The SU series showed the Diamonds that what they did was wrong and has heavily affected others. Not only that, but they are also brought to Earth to see for themselves how bad it was and how their willingness to change and understand and help is a progressive step to save people. If the Diamonds were killed at the end of the series, well, how can they help people they hurt? Simple: they can not. 

Versus Allura, who dies at the very end with Honerva, they go to space heaven where everything is peachy for them and they no longer have to do anything about the mess they left behind because, guess what? They are dead. Their worries are over. Their last moments of life was a self-delusion that they did the right thing, especially Allura. She fought and sacrificed more than anyone else, so she knows deep in her heart that her last act of heroism is the key to peace in the universe and that anything afterwards, well, there will not be anymore problems.

In reality, that is not true, as you can see with PD’s death and how the CG are all very much flawed and suffering and lost on what to do next. 

Again, just because Voltron’s ending had clips of a better life for a selective few (I still have big fat fucking issues with Keith doing Peace Corps with an Empire he has no understanding over) does not mean that is how it turned out for everyone. 

And that is what SU did well where Voltron dropped the ball. SU started as 

>post-war

> well, things are not actually as good as it should be 

> fix those problems through personal struggles and coming to terms that martyrdom does not equate a perfect ending 

> let us help those who suffered, are still suffering, and will most likely keep suffering because of war 

> visually see the aftermath and never sugar-coat the solution as “See? All I needed to do was die!”

SU took the wheel and actually showed the reality of stress post-war, more real than Voltron could ever amount up to. Shiro got married, the Paladins are still friends, and a nearly extinct species came back flourishing. All great, but what about Those Evil Galran? Did they all get locked up or did they just instantly turn good? What about the quintessence issue? Did Allura’s death suddenly give everyone in the universe enough of it to live together happily? And what about the truth behind my execution over a silly little assumption? Was that justified or did I suffer from an incompetent leader’s ability to, well, lead.

I can spit out parallels where heroes follow orders blindly versus heroes who know between right and wrong all day between Voltron and SU. Lapis being stuck in the mirror and imprisoned when “You three knew I was in there!” is one instance I remember that really showed the heroes’ flaw. I believe when Lapis was revealed to be in the mirror, all three of them wanted to keep her locked away from Steven (”It shouldn’t be talking, it should only be taking orders”, “Yeah, let’s bubble it!”, “It’s just a tool! It can’t want anything!”) 

Which, if I vaguely recall, Lapis was seen as the enemy way back then? So, the CG just assumed so and kept her out of sight until she could be useful again without properly doing their research AKA just talking to her. 

Reminds me of when the Paladin’s imprisoned Sendak, used him for untested experimental memory-probing, then jettisoned him into space after he supposedly mind-fucked with them back. But, yes, he did bad things, he killed under Zarkon’s regime, and was actually one of the main villains at the beginning of the series. And because of this, it only makes sense that Allura and the Paladins get to choose what to do with him. 

Wrong. That is very, very wrong.

Sure, Lapis was innocent whereas Sendak has committed crimes (though, based on what I have seen, I am more likely to think Sendak was groomed to be a dog of war, which does not excuse him from imprisonment, but it does excuse improper treatment during imprisonment), yet SU showed that the CG did Lapis wrong whereas Allura and the Paladins are praised for their actions against Sendak after he was pretty much forced into a coma. 

SU judged Lapis, then learned that they were wrong in doing so when shown more information about the truth. Voltron judged Sendak wrong without any information other than one personal experience and a spiteful princess, then they give themselves a pat on the back for it while mistreating their captive. You can even compare Sendak to Jasper if you really want to go into it, but even Jasper was treated better by the CG than Sendak was by Allura and the Paladins.

And this is why I am critical of PD and Allura. Both of them died, both of them left unresolved problems and even bigger future issues on other people’s shoulders, and yet Allura is the only one who gets a pass for it? No. She fucked up just as bad, maybe even worse, than PD, but being critical of Allura is less common because viewers are shown a happy ending at the end of the war. SU does not and SU really had more balls than Voltron in that sense. 

TLDR; SU series shows the heroes face the consequences of their actions and their deceased leader’s actions. Voltron series sweeps it all under the rug and glorifies the careless martyr in an unfulfilling 2 minute montage. 

[ashleyfanfic]

I just needed to say I saw this idk if it’s a dvd extra or what on YouTube about the finale and it literally doesn’t make any sense. Like D&D and people are talking about how great the ending with Bran ruling the 6 kingdoms is because he can’t have children? Funny how that was an issue when it was Dany though!!? And the damn council being so different from what Westeros has had before because the people’s voices will be heard! Like what no? They shut down the idea of small folk mattering?!?

2/3  Also how in any way is it a Stark victory?!? They’re not together? The pack won’t survive because now they’re all lone wolves!!?!? And they didn’t help anyone they argued for Northern Independence despite a Stark sitting on the Throne!!? Why would the other kingdoms accept that?!! Also the North can sustain itself independently?’!? And why the duck is Arya yeeting off to “explore” when the last few seasons were all about her claiming her family “A girl is Arya Stark and she’s going home”?!? (CON 3/3  And Sansa betrayed Jon just to isolate Dany!!? She broke his trust and helped push Dany into “madness”? And if Bran is truly all knowing he saw what would happen and did nothing to stop it? They’re responsible too for what happened on King Landing and it’s just fine? No consequences? And Jon is exiled for doing what they tricked him into doing? Queen slayer/kinslayer/betrayer he will always be and have to live with. Alone on the cold. How is that a win for anyone? The wheel isn’t broken!?

There is a lot in these three asks to break down so let me start by saying that I think, for people like Sophie and maybe even Isaac, but I think less from him because he thought it was a joke, that it was a satisfying win for the Starks. I don’t know that Maisie would say it was a win for the Starks, maybe she would. But the thing is, I think a lot of them have to say they’re happy with the ending, otherwise it feels like years of their lives have been wasted. Think about your job and if you studied for ten years to learn how to do it only for them to come in and tell you that instead of chemical engineering, you’re going to be doing brain surgery every day. Like, that doesn’t make any sense and makes you feel like your life for the last ten years meant nothing if they could do that. So, this may be giving Kit a pass, but what is he supposed to say? “Oh, I hated the ending! It made no sense. Can you believe how they fucked up Daenerys?” Like, this is the show that got him an Emmy nomination and a GG nom. He’s not going to hate on it and to expect him to is ridiculous. 

But as for the characters and what happened...none of it made sense. So, let’s look at people other than Jon and Dany. You have Arya who fought for years to find her place in the world, finally decided that home is where she needed to go and found her place with her sister, then abandoned that to explore more. What? At the least, Arya would have argued harder for Jon to have been allowed to stay in Westeros. Second is Bran. So, I suppose they can now say it was foreshadowing that he said he would never be lord of anything. He was right. If you look at all the stuff he said and did and allowed it happen, it was all leading him to be king. Which means he allowed his sisters to fight with one another and Sansa to almost have Arya killed. He allowed an emotionally compromised Sam to tell Jon about his parentage. He knew that Euron was waiting at Dragonstone. He knew that Missandei would die. He knew that Theon was going to die. He knew that Sansa would betray Jon. He knew that Dany would lose it and destroy King’s Landing. He knew that Tyrion would betray Dany. He knew everything that was going to happen and allowed it to do so all so he could be king. To me, that makes Bran the actual villain of the the series as he allowed all those things to happen and warned no one. I would say that he even manipulated Sansa into some of it because he used the worst night of her life to persuade her that he had the gift of sight. 

Then there’s Sansa. She was going to have her sister killed. She was cold to a woman who brought her armies to the North to save her pathetic ass when she didn’t have to. She tried to emotionally blackmail her brother by saying that his loyalty was misplaced because he loved Jon. She indicated that said brother was weak because of it. She tried to press that the North should be independent for some fucking reason I’ve not fully grasped other than she just wanted it. While everyone else was up above fighting to save her life, she is in crypt still shit talking the queen that put everything on the line to save their lives. She’s incredibly threatened by the power Dany has and does everything she can to subvert her in front of her people and then behind her back. She betrayed her brother after knowing a secret for five minutes, not because it was what was best for the realm, but because she could use it to her advantage. And she never argued that Jon shouldn’t be sent to the Wall. Instead, she still argued for the North to be independent, and made her brother King so she could get what she wanted. Sansa who missed her family was perfectly fine with being alone in Winterfell with her crown. 

Then there’s Jon and Daenerys. I mean, Dany was being gaslighted by Bran and Sansa nearly the entire time she was in the North, if not before that by Bran. Dany had too much power but Jon was her true weakness, or at leas that’s what they wanted us to believe. Dany who lost a child and a husband, who fought for slaves and witnessed atrocities, who was sold to a warlord by her only relation (that she knew of), who suffered rape and pain at the hands of her husband, betrayal by nearly every person she knew. But sure, her weakness is Jon. So, we’re supposed to believe that of all the losses she suffered, the one that turns her hard and cold is the rejection of Jon Snow. And what happened to her? She’s betrayed again by someone she loves, but this time, it cost her her life.

And then there’s Jon Snow. I feel like what they did to Jon is equally as horrible, but everyone seems to bypass it. You have Jon Snow who befriended the Wildlings and learned to open his world view up to beyond what he’s always known. He’s murdered by his brothers for doing what he thought was right. He never wavered in that he thought it was right and that he should have done it. He had a difficult time that other people didn’t see it that way. He rode to take his home back for his sister. He managed to convince people that probably wouldn’t give him the time of day to fight for him. He became King in the North because he was a Stark, yes, but because he fought for his people. That was something he put pride in. So when he meets Dany, she’s someone who seems to have the same moral compass he has and puts the lives of the small folk above her own ambition. It’s one of the things that he respects about her. Remember, he thinks she has a good heart. Even Davos thinks highly of her. They fall in love and it’s really one of the first things Jon does that is for him. But that’s the point, isn’t it? Jon is the self-sacrificing hero. He’s not supposed to be allowed to have things like love of a good woman without having to suffer for it. So, they reveal his parentage for NO OTHER REASON than to keep Daenerys from the throne. That’s it. It’s never brought up after she dies. He’s still called Jon Snow. He’s not considered to be the King. He’s treated as the bastard he was always supposed to be. Only now, he’s worse than that. He betrayed the woman he loved by killing her. He not only became an Oathbreaker, he became a Queenslayer, and a Kinslayer. They made the honorable Jon Snow an Oathbreaker. Wrap your head around that, fam. And what’s his happy ending, as Kit sees it? Going to live North with the Wildlings. Because, yeah, that’s better than getting to be with the woman he loves for the rest of his life with babies. 

The truth is D&D ruined every character and blew holes and sank every ship on their way out. Everyone got done dirty, and yet we fixate on the ones we love he most. I mean, was Gendry only brought back so he could be the rail for Arya to ride? Yes, that still bothers me. I was a Gendrya fan before I was a Jonerys fan. Just...UGH! 

[pamphletstoinspire]

Story about Saint Polycarp, Bishop And Martyr - Feast Day - January 26th - Latin Calendar

The Martyrdom of St. Polycarp by St. Alphonsus di Liguori

St. Polycarp was a disciple of the Apostle St. John, and was born about the seventieth year of the Christian era. He was a Christian from his infancy, and on account of his extraordinary piety was greatly beloved by the apostles, his teachers. St. Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons, writes that he had had the good fortune, when young, to know our saint, who was then far advanced in years, and remark show strongly impressed on his mind were the instructions which he had received from him, and with what delight he remembered having heard him recount his conversations with St. John and others who had seen the Redeemer.

St. Polycarp was consecrated Bishop of Smyrna by St. John himself before this apostle's banishment to the Island of Patmos. It is looked upon as certain that our saint was the angel, or Bishop of Smyrna, commended by the Lord in the Apocalypse: And to the angel of the church of Smyrna write . . . I know thy tribulation and thy poverty; but thou art rich. . . . Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life (Apoc. ii. 9).

Our saint governed the church of Smyrna seventy years, according to Fleury (Hist. eccl. l. 3, n. 48), with so much prudence and approbation that he was regarded as the principal of the Asiatic bishops, on account of the great veneration in which he was held. When eighty years of age, he went to Rome to consult with Pope Anicetus on some points of discipline, particularly regarding the time at which Easter should be celebrated. St. Polycarp's delay in Rome was very useful to the faithful, as it afforded him an opportunity of confuting the heresies of that period. Meeting the heresiarch Marcion, who inquired of the holy bishop whether he knew him; “Yes,” answered the saint, ” I know thee to be the first-born of the devil.”

On his return to Asia, he suffered much in the persecution which the Emperor Marcus Aurelius raised against the Church, and which was particularly felt at Smyrna, where the proconsul, Statius Quadratus, was exercising the most barbarous cruelty against the faithful. Amongst other acts of persecution, he caused twelve Christians, who were brought from Philadelphia, to be devoured by wild beasts. Excited by this bloodshed, the pagans were loud in their demands for the slaughter of the Christians, particularly of Polycarp, who failed not on his part to encourage his flock to the most heroic proofs of constancy, in suffering torments and death for Jesus Christ. Notwithstanding the continual clamor raised against him, the saint wished to remain in the city for the discharge of his pastoral duties, but was obliged, by the importunity of the faithful, to retire to a house without the city, where, during his stay, he occupied the entire night and day in holy prayer.

After a short time, however, he was discovered. Three days previouly to his arrest, he saw in a vision his pillow in flames, from which he knew that the martyrdom reserved for him was that of fire, and, turning to his companions, told them that he would be burned alive. The Christians, aware that the soldiers were in pursuit of him, removed him to another house; but a young servant, overawed by the fear of torture, revealed the place of his concealment. The saint was informed of this, but refused to retreat any farther, saying, with holy resignation: “The will of God be done.” Full of heroic zeal, he offered himself to God as a victim destined for his honor, besought him to accept the sacrifice of his life, and joyfully delivered himself up to his pursuers. He received them into his house, ordered them a handsome supper, and desired only some time for prayer, which being granted, he was for two hours absorbed in meditation.

The captain and the soldiers were filled with confusion at the sight of the venerable bishop; and unwillingly executing their commission, departed with him at break of day. As the journey to Smyrna was long, they set him on an ass, and were conducting him to the city, when they met on the road two superior officers, called Herod and Nicetas, who took him into their chariot, and endeavored to persuade him to obey the imperial edict, saying, among other things: “What harm is there in sacrificing to the gods in order to save your life?” The saint answered with fortitude that he would rather suffer every torture, even death itself, than consent to what they advised. Upon this resolute answer they turned away in anger, regarding him as a man lost through his obstinacy, and pushed him from the chariot with such violence that his leg was bruised, or, according to Fleury, broken by the fall.

The saint nevertheless, with undisturbed tranquillity of mind, proceeded to the amphitheatre, where he was about to sacrifice his life. Upon entering it he heard a voice from heaven, saying: “Be courageous, Polycarp; act manfully.” He was presented to the proconsul, who endeavored to shake his resolution, saying: “Polycarp, thou art old, and should free thyself from torments which thou hast not strength to bear; swear, therefore, by the fortune of Caesar, and exclaim with the people, ‘Be the impious exterminated!'” The saint immediately replied: “Yes! be the impious exterminated–but by the impious I mean the idolaters.” The proconsul, thinking that he had gained him over, said: “Now blaspheme Jesus Christ, and I will discharge thee.” The saint rejoined: “I have served Jesus Christ these fourscore and six years; he never did me harm, but much good; how can I blaspheme him? How can I blaspheme my Creator and my Saviour, who is also my judge, and who justly punishes those who deny him?” The tyrant, still continuing to tempt him to deny Jesus Christ, Polycarp replied that he was a Christian, and considered it a glory to die for Christ.

The proconsul threatened him with wild beasts. “Call for them quickly,” replied the saint; “I cannot change from good to evil; the beasts will help me to pass from mortal suffering to the glory of heaven.” “Then,” said the tyrant, “thou shalt be burned alive.” The saint answered: “Thy fire only lasts a. moment; there is another fire which is eternal, and of that I am afraid. Why dost thou delay to execute thy threats?” This he said with so much intrepidity, that the tyrant himself was struck with admiration; he ordered, however, a crier to make public proclamation that Polycarp had avowed himself a Christian; whereupon the entire multitude of pagans cried out: “Let this destroyer of our gods die!” The public shows having terminated, it was resolved that he should be burned alive, instead of being devoured by wild beasts.

The pile was prepared by the pagans, and also by the Jews, who were particularly active in offering themselves as executioners. Polycarp put off his garments, and seeing they were about to fasten him to the stake, said: “Leave aside these nails: He who gives me fortitude to undergo this fire, will enable me to stand Still without them.” They therefore contented themselves with tying his hands behind his back, and placed him upon the pile, whence raising his eyes to heaven, the saint prayed after the following manner:

“I bless Thee, O God, for having vouchsafed to make me a partaker in the Passion of Jesus Christ Thy Son, by rendering me worthy to offer myself as a sacrifice for Thy honor, that I may be enabled to praise Thee in heaven, and to bless Thee for all eternity.”

The pile was set on fire, yet the flames did not touch the body of the saint, but formed, as it were, an arch around him, while his flesh exhaled a most fragrant odor. The pagans, exasperated to see that the fire had no effect, transfixed him with a spear, and such a quantity of blood issued from the wound as extinguished the flames.

Thus did St. Polycarp terminate his triumph, as is recorded in the celebrated epistle of the Church of Smyrna, which may be seen in “Ruinart's Collection of the Acts of the Martyrs.” His martyrdom took place about the year 160. (1,2)

Practical Reflections by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger

“For eighty-six years have I served Christ, and He has done me no wrong : how can I, then, deny or insult Him now?” This is an answer worthy to be written in golden letters. Impress it deeply upon your heart, remembering God Himself asks: ” O, my people what have I done to thee, or in what have I molested thee? Answer thou me.”

What canst thou answer, whilst thy conscience convinces thee of the truth that God never did thee an injury, but, on the contrary conferred on thee countless benefits for body and soul? How canst thou, then, have the heart to offend Him, and that so often and grievously? What astonishing iniquity and damnable ingratitude it is to offend maliciously so great a benefactor! Were a man, to whom you have done much good, to repay you by repeated insults, what would you say? “Oh!” you would cry, “how have I deserved this from him? For all my benefits I receive nothing but injuries at his hands. How despicable is his ingratitude!” But tell me, what has God deserved at thy hands? Has He done thee less good than thou didst to that man? Oh! weep bitterly over thy ingratitude, and resolve not to continue in it. Do not in future offend thy greatest benefactor, but love and praise Him for His benefits. Answer the evil spirit, when he tempts thee to sin: “My God has done me no injury, but only good: how can I, then, offend Him?”

St. Polycarp did not fear the fire of the tyrant, which could burn only for a time, and then had an end; but he feared the fire which is prepared for the wicked and burns forever. Think often of the inextinguishable fire of hell, and, through fear of that God who can punish thee with it, abstain from sin. Certainly you would not sin for any gain or pleasure, if you were sure that, after sin,”your hand would have to burn in a fire, were it but for a quarter of an hour. How blind and foolhardy, then, is it not to sin on account of some momentary pleasure or gain, when you must expect eternal fire on that account. Such are the thoughts of St. Augustine, who wrote: “Hell fire will not be like an earthly fire. Yet, were you forced to put your hand in earthly fire, you would do all that was demanded by him who threatens you. God threatens you with eternal fire, and will you not do good? Will you not avoid sin?” 

[simfur]

20 Autobot Leaders Rated by How Much I Want to Punch Them

Starting with the big guy, the granddaddy of them all, G1 Optimus Prime. He’s like a father to me. I can’t in good conscience punch him, even if he sometimes deserves it for bad puns. 1/10 punchability I just can’t do it 

Rodimus Prime ranks high in the punchability for some because when Optimus died in the original movie, it traumatized kids so much that all their negative feelings got channeled into unbridled rage towards the guy who replaced him. However, I hate those guys because they became insufferable as adults, so that really just lowers Roddy’s punchability for me personally. 4/10 punchability he still kind of deserves it though 

Grimlock led the Autobots for a length of time I can’t remember after Optimus died in the Marvel comics. His was a reign of terror. I can’t decide if his jughead crown is kickin or if i want to kick it off him. 7/10 punchability he gets some lenience for his childlike innocence

Another Marvel comics leader was Fortress Maximus, who was also Cerebros. He was also the leader in the Headmasters anime after Rodimus flew off into space forever but I don’t think he actually had a personality in that. He’s a matryoshka of Autobot leaders with each getting smaller and more punchable than the last, ending in Moody College Student Spike Witwicky, who is thankfully the first one on this list who I don’t have to climb something to punch in the face. 9/10 punchability I’m a very short person so I might have to climb something anyways but that isn’t going to stop me

Last Marvel comics character, I swear. Captain Picard Hi-Q binary bonded with Optimus for a while, then Optimus died (this was about the third time), and Hi-Q eventually turned into Optimus so we just considered Optimus alive again. Don’t think too hard about it. 3/10 punchability I really like Star Trek TNG so I probably wouldn’t punch him

Ginrai’s robot self looks exactly like Optimus Prime, but he isn’t. Why he looks like him is sort of hand-waved away in the anime. The real-life reason, of course, is because he was just the Japanese release of Powermaster Optimus Prime. Ginrai is really good because he talks like an American teenager even when his robot form separated from his human self to become the Autobot commander at the end of Super-God Masterforce. 0/10 punchability I just can’t really punch a guy wearing converse, skinny jeans, and suspenders

Star Saber makes me forget that the Autobots were ever good guys. I don’t think he even has a personality outside of “noble and heroic leader.” He adopted a human son and tried to send him to a Catholic school but he doesn’t even buy him a uniform. The kid barely even goes to school in the end. 9/10 punchability don’t adopt a human if you’re not prepared to care for him

Optimus Primal is a good Autobot leader because he never even set out to be anything more than a captain on one ship but ended up sacrificing himself to bring life back to the planet, probably sparking a religious following. He won the “Power of the Primes” vote so he’s got to have a pretty low punchability, but he also looks like his malleble gorilla face would feel nice on my powerful fist. 5/10 punchability when POTP stuff starts coming will his name change to “optimus primal prime”?

Lio Convoy being a cat makes me not want to punch him so much. However, he isn’t a good father. Don’t worry about the kid not really being his son in any sense of the term. Why is ineptitude at fatherhood a recurring theme for Autobot leaders? 8/10 punchability Lio Junior deserved better

I’ll admit that Beast Wars Neo is the only thing on this list that I haven’t seen or read any of, so Big Convoy is mostly here for completion’s sake. Hence I’m rating him entirely on his appearance. Mostly I wouldn’t want to punch a mammoth, because they’re extinct, but I think he could take it. It would be a good workout for both of us. 10/10 punchability no hard feelings, we’re just two dudes lovingly punching each other

In Japan, he’s known as Fire Convoy, continuing their tradition of Autobot leader names, but in the west he’s the first-ever reboot of Optimus Prime. I don’t have a lot of opinions on him as a person or leader, but his existence opened the floodgates of Optimus Primes to come, which I have mixed feelings on. 5/10 punchability I can’t think of a reason to punch him, but I also can’t think of a reason not to

Armada Optimus Prime suffers from being Armada Optimus Prime. I think this was when they really managed to distill “Optimus Prime” down into its truest form. No longer was Optimus Prime a character, but a concept that extended beyond fiction and into our world. Optimus Prime means something. Optimus Prime is a figure for justice, honor, and liberty. 8/10 punchability I still can’t forget Energon though

Do I have to say anything. I’m not even somebody who vehemently dislikes Hot Shot, but for the love of god, why did he ever get to be a leader. 6/10 punchability I’d punch him but I wouldn’t put a lot of force into it, he’s not even worth it

Movie Optimus Prime is. uh. something else, all right. I can admire the movie taking the idea of Optimus Prime and going “okay, but what if he was also a murderbeast?” because I think that’s something we all really wanted to see play out. In practice it kind of scares me. 2/10 punchability I’m worried if I went for his face I’d no longer have mine

Animated Optimus Prime is a good boy. A baby boy. He’s trying his best in a world that seems against him. We all love him. 0/10 punchability I simply can’t bring myself to mar those luscious lips

I’m sure Animated Ultra Magnus did some great things during the war, but, yunno, seeing how Cybertron under him during peacetime is sort of a Stratocracy, I question his fitness to be the leader of a planet. They really gonna let the government run experiments on civilians? Okay. Alright. 4/10 I don’t want to punch him per se but I do sort of want to lead an armed rebellion against him

Hhh. HHHH. HOOGH. HHHAAAHH. HEH. HHhhhHHH. Just seeing Sentinel Prime’s face fills me with anger. If let loose, this rage could level mountains, sink continents, and incinerate entire solar systems. If there is any good in the cosmos, Sentinel Prime will not go unpunched. His face will be shattered into pieces with the sheer power of my unbridled fury. 10,000/10 punchability I have already punched him, spiritually, and I will do it again

I mean, alright. Prime Optimus Prime is kind of the distilled essence of Optimus Prime. If you took all the other Optimus Primes, and took all the things they had in common, and then took out a little bit of the anger because let’s be real here all the other Optimus Primes are quite a bit angrier than this one, you’d get Aligned Optimus Prime. Which is kind of how the Aligned continuity as a whole works. So, yeah, That Sure Is Optimus Prime. 3/10 punchability his soft-spoken words of wisdom would calm me down before I ever even raised my fist

Heatwave is the quintessential non-Optimus Autobot leader. He’s noble and courageous with a good sense of justice, but he was thrust into leadership without being the best and it and is a bit of a hothead. You can use that exact sentence to describe so many of the bots on this list. 4/10 punchability I don’t want to use violent methods when it comes to Rescue Bots but sometimes Heatwave’s personality warrants it 

I honestly can’t believe it took 30 years for a Bumblebee to be leader for reals. It happened so gradually that nobody was surprised when it happened, and yet it also feels like nobody can really accept it. I know I can’t. He doesn’t even look like any Bumblebee. Is this how longtime G1 fans felt when the Unicron trilogy started reusing names for different-but-not-wholly-different characters to keep the trademarks? 8/10 punchability we know you stole your schtick from Hot Rod via Hot Shot so stop trying to act like you’re so special 

[dfroza]

An ancient Letter

conserved and translated to share spiritual truth and the invitation of the Spirit of having the “Morning Star” arise in the heart

[Introduction and Greeting]

This letter is from Simeon Peter, a loving servant and an apostle of Jesus Christ. I am writing to those who have been given a faith as equally precious as ours through the righteousness of our God and Savior, Jesus Christ. May grace and perfect peace cascade over you as you live in the rich knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.

Everything we could ever need for life and complete devotion to God has already been deposited in us by his divine power. For all this was lavished upon us through the rich experience of knowing him who has called us by name and invited us to come to him through a glorious manifestation of his goodness. As a result of this, he has given you magnificent promises that are beyond all price, so that through the power of these tremendous promises you can experience partnership with the divine nature, by which you have escaped the corrupt desires that are of the world.

So devote yourselves to lavishly supplementing your faith with goodness,

and to goodness add understanding,

and to understanding add the strength of self-control,

and to self-control add patient endurance,

and to patient endurance add godliness,

and to godliness add mercy toward your brothers and sisters,

and to mercy toward others add unending love.

Since these virtues are already planted deep within, and you possess them in abundant supply, they will keep you from being inactive or fruitless in your pursuit of knowing Jesus Christ more intimately. But if anyone lacks these things, he is blind, constantly closing his eyes to the mysteries of our faith, and forgetting his innocence—for his past sins have been washed away.

For this reason, beloved ones, be eager to confirm and validate that God has invited you to salvation and claimed you as his own. If you do these things, you will never stumble. As a result, the kingdom’s gates will open wide to you as God choreographs your triumphant entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Messiah.

I won’t hesitate to continually remind you of these truths, even though you are aware of them and are well established in the present measure of truth you have already embraced. And as long as I live I will continue to awaken you with this reminder, since our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, has clearly revealed that my departure is near. Indeed, I’m passionate to share these things with you so that you will always remember them after my exodus from this life.

We were not retelling some masterfully crafted legend when we informed you of the power and appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, for we saw his magnificence and splendor unveiled before our very eyes. Yes, Father God lavished upon him radiant glory and honor when his distinct voice spoke out of the realm of majestic glory, endorsing him with these words: This is my cherished Son, marked by my love. All my delight is found in him! And we ourselves heard that voice resound from the heavens while we were with him on the holy mountain.

And so we have been given the prophetic word—the written message of the prophets, made more reliable and fully validated by the confirming voice of God on the Mount of Transfiguration. And you will continue to do well if you stay focused on it. For this prophetic message is like a piercing light shining in a gloomy place until the dawning of a new day, when the Morning Star rises in your hearts.

You must understand this at the outset: Interpretation of scriptural prophecy requires the Holy Spirit, for it does not originate from someone’s own imagination. No true prophecy comes from human initiative but is inspired by the moving of the Holy Spirit upon those who spoke the message that came from God.

The Letter of 2nd Peter, Chapter 1 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the First chapter of 2nd Chronicles that begins with King David’s son:

[King Solomon]

Solomon son of David took a firm grip on the reins of his kingdom. God was with him and gave him much help. Solomon addressed all Israel—the commanders and captains, the judges, every leader, and all the heads of families. Then Solomon and the entire company went to the worship center at Gibeon—that’s where the Tent of Meeting of God was, the one that Moses the servant of God had made in the wilderness. The Chest of God, though, was in Jerusalem—David had brought it up from Kiriath Jearim, prepared a special place for it, and pitched a tent for it. But the Bronze Altar that Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, had made was in Gibeon, in its place before the Tabernacle of God; and that is where Solomon and the congregation gathered to pray. Solomon worshiped God at the Bronze Altar in front of the Tent of Meeting; he sacrificed a thousand Whole-Burnt-Offerings on it.

That night God appeared to Solomon. God said, “What do you want from me? Ask.”

Solomon answered, “You were extravagantly generous with David my father, and now you have made me king in his place. Establish, God, the words you spoke to my father, for you’ve given me a staggering task, ruling this mob of people. Yes, give me wisdom and knowledge as I come and go among this people—for who on his own is capable of leading these, your glorious people?”

God answered Solomon, “This is what has come out of your heart: You didn’t grasp for money, wealth, fame, and the doom of your enemies; you didn’t even ask for a long life. You asked for wisdom and knowledge so you could govern well my people over whom I’ve made you king. Because of this, you get what you asked for—wisdom and knowledge. And I’m presenting you the rest as a bonus—money, wealth, and fame beyond anything the kings before or after you had or will have.”

Then Solomon left the worship center at Gibeon and the Tent of Meeting and went to Jerusalem. He set to work as king of Israel.

Solomon collected chariots and horses: fourteen hundred chariots and twelve thousand horses! He stabled them in the special chariot-cities as well as in Jerusalem. The king made silver and gold as common as rocks, and cedar as common as the fig trees in the lowland hills. His horses were brought in from Egypt and Cilicia, specially acquired by the king’s agents. Chariots from Egypt went for fifteen pounds of silver and a horse for about three and three-quarters of a pound of silver. Solomon carried on a brisk horse-trading business with the Hittite and Aramean royal houses.

The Book of 2nd Chronicles, Chapter 1 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, january 29 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons about anxious thought:

It is written in our Scriptures: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" (Phil. 4:6). Note that the verb translated "be anxious" here (i.e.,μεριμνάω) comes from a root word (μερίζω) that means to be fragmented or divided into parts and pieces. Being anxious is therefore the uneasy state of being distracted, unfocused and divided within yourself. When we worry we heed voices of fear and begin to feel 'double-minded,' (i.e., δίψυχος), unstable, and unable to think clearly; we get restless and find it difficult to deeply breathe. We start to feel out of control, fearful that something bad will happen despite all our efforts or wishes to the contrary; we sense doom; we lose heart; we go dark... The Scripture here admonishes us to pray when we are tempted us to be anxious by focusing on something for which we are grateful. Doing so will instill the "peace of God" (שלום יהוה) that rises above all worldly thinking to keep watch over your heart and your thoughts through Yeshua the Messiah (Phil. 4:7). We gain the "light of life," that is, inner illumination from God, so that we can remain steadfast and unmovable in our faith, despite the temptation to look for relief from our struggles apart from God. [Hebrew for Christians]

https://hebrew4christians.com/

1.28.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

January 29, 2021

Children in Heaven

“And [David] said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether GOD will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:22-23)

The death of a loved one is always a time of great sorrow, but the death of a beloved child is perhaps the keenest sorrow of all. Nevertheless, for the Christian believer, we “sorrow not, even as others which have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

Our text verse makes it clear that when a child dies (even one born of a sinful relationship such as this child of David and Bathsheba), that child goes to be with the Lord in heaven. Jesus said: “Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).

Heaven is thus a place where there are many “little children.” Their inherited sin-nature never yet had generated acts of willful sin, and their Maker is Himself “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), so they are safe in Him. Although there are few specific Scriptures on this subject, what we do know, both from the love of God and the Word of God, suggests that the souls of all deceased little children are with the Lord in heaven, but also those who died in early childhood (and even before birth) from every time and place since the world began. There they, along with all those who were saved by personal faith in Christ and are now awaiting the resurrection, will receive new bodies when Christ returns to Earth. The old and lame will be young and strong again, and the children will grow to perfect maturity, for all will become “like him” (1 John 3:2). “God shall wipe away all tears” (Revelation 21:4), and all will say: “As for God, his way is perfect” (Psalm 18:30). HMM

[abcthought]

Hmmm I don’t know what to say.

To read that you felt you have been abandoned by Ven and myself felt really strange and almost insulting right off the bat. But I realize you and I do not know each other and your view seems skewed by that. I’m writing this out not for you to attack but to understand my feelings and maybe cut us some slack when you reference our “abandonment”.

My relationship with the family is strained. And it has always been, since I was a baby. My father and my mom did not have a great relationship. My mom was pregnant with me at 20 years old, and my dad 19 (I think). We lived with grandma and grandpa for a while. Aunt Jissel was like 15 and your dad was also super young. But idk if you know this but the relationship between my parents was violent and turbulent. They fought constantly, my dad did drugs, my mom did drugs, she went to jail, he went to jail, her parents disowned her, and lots of other messed up stuff. My great grandma was actually the one to bail out my mom. She had no parental support at all. My grandma and grandpa were genuinely all we had for a part of our life. Until they couldn’t be anymore.

My dad punched my mom in the face during a violent fight. I saw the whole thing. I was about three, maybe four years old. My dad punched my mom and broke her nose. Blood splattered everywhere. She was screaming, I was screaming, my dad was demonic. I remember my mom bent over the sink, sobbing and sobbing. I remember running to find my little sister, so we could hide. I was so scared of him. My mom ran to my sister and I, grabbed us as quickly as she could, and ran for the car. I remember my mom holding me, as she ran down the stairs. Here I am, getting buckled into a car seat with my father, literally shouting from the apartment stairs, threatening my mom.

She was finally able to move in with her parents, my grandparents. My mom was suddenly a very young single mother. At like 23 years old... with two toddlers. Not to mention she suffered a miscarriage from my father sometime before this. She was put through the ringer. I don’t remember much on why or how we were allowed to see him again, but they would meet at a McDonald’s in Fontana, off of cherry and foothill. Then my dad would bring us over to gma and gpas house. I used to play all the time over there with your dad and uncle Bobby even. You were born shortly after, and we would visit as much as we could. Except my dad would sometimes not show up to pick us up. My mom told me that we would cry and cry, not understanding what was happening or why he wouldn’t show up. To protect us, she decided that he wouldn’t be allowed to hurt us anymore. That we had been put through too much by him.

Then, she remarried my step dad. He was an abusive piece of work too. He was emotionally abusive to my mom. She wanted us to see grandma and grandpa, but he would not allow it. I went like a good few years not seeing anyone.

Your parents and our aunt/uncles etc were also just starting their lives. They were young adults with their own families, schooling, careers etc. The last thing they had time for was to reach out and care for us. They trusted my mom enough.

We also had our own family now. We had a dad, an older brother, and an older sister. That was really important to me. Because for a few good years I actually had a family. I experienced a lot without the Monarrez’s. And that was literally never my choice. I was a literal child. From first grade to fifth I pretty much heard nothing.

I had actually told my friends that my dad had died, that’s how in the dark I was. But my dad made no effort to contact us, or get better, or just be good. He had the power to grow up and change, there was literally nothing I could do.

Eventually, in middle school my dad came back to ven and I’s life. This is predominantly the years you remember. And they were good years. Things seemed good until he went to prison. Nobody told me where he was. We had no idea where he had gone. Then he’s back, then he’s gone again. I never understood and it hurt a lot to be with family, the not, then with, then not. Aunt Jissel one day pulled ven and I aside and said, “we actually do know where your dad is, he’s in jail”.

And to her credit she did what she could, like take us to knots scary farm etc. But for the most part, all of the grownups in our family danced around the fact that our dad was not there for us, and that they did not know how to be there for us either. Something I don’t hold against them. Honest to god, I have even had this conversation with aunt Jissel.

Anyway, one day, I get a call from him in jail and he says I have a baby brother. And by this point I’m in 7th grade. Barely beginning to be a teenager. And that same year my mom and stepdad get divorced, and my older brother is beaten up by my step dad. The last time I even saw my dad before that was when he picked up ven and I to go look at Christmas lights. But he had his girlfriend there the whole time and rarely said anything to us. Ven and i sat quietly in the backseat. Then we we got home, him and his girlfriend snuck away to his bedroom. Ven and I were left alone in the house, just trying to feel like he wanted us there.

We were allowed to see my dad a lot more after Caden was born, because he was “changing”. Also my mom was back to being a single mom, so she asked us if we were ok to see him again and we said yes. Literally the first time I saw him again I called him dad, and he didn’t even respond to it. Because he wasn’t used to being called dad.

He took us to his church, he showed me his job, he really seemed like he changed. At some point he moved out to Arizona with you guys. In freshman year of high school, he came back. He had for some reason brought a girlfriend back home from Arizona with her two daughters. He pitched to us “being a family” and we went to see twilight together.

I was told after that, he broke up with her and drove her back to Arizona. At this point, I’m a teenager. A brilliant one. I took five AP courses, I took advanced math, I played three Instruments, I acted in plays, and I was in every band or after school activity. The reason I got to do those things? My grandma and grandpa on my mother’s side. They are the only reason I am alive. My grandma is basically my second mom. She did everything, sacrificed anything, and loved us more than I have ever seen a grandparent love someone. This is not to say I don’t love grandma Esther with all my heart, because I do. I love her very much. But my relationship with my maternal grandma is special. So when it came time for me to graduate, I was only allowed 13 tickets. I chose my moms family over the monarrez’s because of every sacrifice they made for us. For every moment they were there. For how much I loved them.

But when I told me dad he yelled at me. He called me a liar. He drove to my house to say mean things in my front yard and after sending me a cruel Facebook message accusing me of not caring about them and leaving them behind.

I was 18. Just barely an adult, about to graduate with honors, and my father who had not raised nor cared for me was yelling at me. Instead of being happy to graduate I spent it with anxiety, nausea, pain, and guilt. Feelings I don’t think we’re justified. The experience was so awful my sister chose to not even walk the next year.

At this point I’m in college, I have my first job, I have a lot happening. I was not responsible for repairing a bridge that someone else destroyed. I sought therapy for the things I saw with my dad. I have problems every day with the guilt. But it is most painful to me, to see my grandparents age. I do my best with what I have got. I visit them when I can, I send them pictures, I’ve bought them stuff during covid, I had them at my college graduation. I did not have anyone at my wedding other than my mom and sister. Not even my maternal grandparents. No aunts, no uncles, etc.

I have been through a lot of pain with my father and the family. I have never felt like I belonged. While you all were the same age (cousins) ven and I were the older kids. I was an adult before any of you. And now? I’m married, I have a home, I have a family of my own, I am educated, I am passionate, I am talented. There is not a single quality that I have that had come from the family. That was all my own and with people who supported me indefinitely and without question.

The reason I don’t make it to the invites? They’re last minute or I have other priorities. For your graduation I was working so my mom and I could have rent that month. I did the grocery shopping, we only had one car, we were scraping buy paycheck to paycheck. And i worked very hard to make sure my mom was never alone to bear the burden. I am the oldest, so I gave up everything to take care of my mom and sister. We never got a penny of child support or any financial help.

Also, getting a call at 5pm ON thanksgiving and being told to come down is not the same as getting an invite ahead of time. It is not the same as someone asking us to join as a family. It’s last minute, it’s hurtful, and it always stung because we always felt like an after though. I didn’t even know grandma was in the hospital because NO ONE told me, except my baby brother. It was not the responsibility of a young boy to tell us that. And the blame is solely on the adults of the family.

Now I am a fully grown adult woman. I have a degree, a career, credentials, a cool husband, and a good family. I have chosen to only really engage with grandma and grandpa, as they are the only ones I can bear to see. I will not let you accuse us of “abandoning” them or leaving them to rot as they age. I do what I can, when I can. My responsibility is to my own life. I do not have a relationship with my father. I do not have a relationship with you. It will always be so, because the damage is done. I have worked through the trauma on my own. If you choose to still believe that we had any choice in the matter, or that any of it was intentional, you are sorely wrong.

[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 6)

tfw you go to work halfway through a liveblog post. not a good feel.

Part 6 encompasses pages 394-476 (previous parts)

Okay, sleep is good, but it’s back to my boys time.

Only Dalinar would consider healing himself in a vision “cheating”

I’M SO EXCITED FOR DALINAR’S OTHER SURGE

let’s get some new magic up in here

“Welcome to my madness, ladies.” DALINAR PLEASE, that’s the most ridiculous greeting ever.

Navani getting all overly excited about an ancient fabrial is delightful. She’s like a kid on Christmas. Though if this leads to her figuring out the design and getting lil Regrowth machines out into the world so people can heal, that would be magnificent. And seems like exactly the thing she’d be planning on doing.

THERE WAS A TEARFUL MOTHER-DAUGHTER REUNION!! THERE WAS ONE!! I’VE BEEN ROBBED

I genuinely love how every time Dalinar orders the Stormfather to do something, he’s like “wtf dude, no I don’t take orders from you” but he does it anyway.

sooo..most of the time when a Radiant dies, their spren dies, too. But the Stormfather was actually...enchanced? by Honor’s death. Obviously, Honor isn’t a Radiant, and I get the feeling that the Stormfather wasn’t his spren, but there’s a certain similarity in that they were clearly connected in some way--if they weren’t, why would his death affect the Stormfather at all? So why did the spren memory loss thing work the opposite way for the Stormfather--that he was fuzzy and forgotten while his connected being was alive, and more sure of himself now that Honor is dead?

“Dalinar squinted, but he still couldn’t make out which were human and which were not.” I feel like that says something, doesn’t it? If you can’t tell the humans from the parshmen? the maybe you’re not so different after all? Maybe you all die the same way, you all bleed and fight and die the same way. And maybe the things you’re fighting for are different, but there’s something to be said for looking at things from a different point of view.

oooohhh honey, is that what they told you? That the Heralds ascended to the Tranquiline Halls? God, humans so want to believe the best of people--as a general rule, we are an optimistic race. We want to believe things will get better or people won’t disappoint us. The betrayal of the Heralds wasn’t even a thing they could comprehend. Why would their gods abandon them? Surely, it was because they’d earned a better afterlife, not because they were tired of being tortured and just...walked away.

I’m emotional about the surprising resilience of humanity, but also of the marvelous ways humans lie to themselves to make themselves feel better.

I’m also emotional about the Heralds. That’s a constant thing though, sort of goes without saying.

ARE WE ACTUALLY GETTING INFO ABOUT THE HERALDS!!!!!?? AAAHHHHHH WHAT

FINALLY

Wait, are you telling me that the Desolations--all of them--were started by vengeful, angry ghosts????

vengeful, angry Parshendi ghosts.

that’s...marvelous.

OOHHHHHHHH

THIS IS MY SHIT THIS IS MY JAM. TEN PEOPLE PUTTING THEMSELVES IN HELL TO SAVE EVERYONE ELSE AAHH THESE PEOPLE

strong, selfless, sacrificing people

who got tired. and fucked up. and broke. and I’m

goooddddd this is MY SHIT THIS IS MY FAVORITE GIMME THIS WHOLE NOVEL AAAAHHH

AND THEN THEY WENT BACK KNOWINGLY KNOWING WHAT WAS WAITING FOR THEM THEY WENT BACK AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN WILLINGLY KNOWINGLY I”M

I AM EMOTIONAL ABOUT THE HERALDS

also the Stormfather slowly gaining humanity/perspective on humanity is a beautiful thing to witness. Like, yeah, we got it with Syl and Pattern and will with other spren, I’m sure, but it’s wild to see it in the soul of a storm.

HE WASN’T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE HE WASN’T A KING HE WASN’T ANYONE SPECIAL HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AND HE WAS THE STRONGEST OF THEM AND HE NEVER BROKE HE NEVER GAVE IN AND HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AND I”M

TALN

TAAAAAALLNNNN

I’M CRYING

I”M C R Y I N G

I AM UPSET ABOUT THE HERALDS

FOUR AND A HALF THOUSAND YEARS

(also that’s a lord of the rings reference I never noticed before, good job)

oohh shiiiiiittttt. they are reborn literally every nine days how the hell do you fight that

haaa um. the letter in the epigraphs--”it was agreed that no two Shards should settle in the same place”--my dude...you’ve got a limited number of inhabitable planets in this system. hate to break it to you, but... y’all were gonna end up in the same places. ..

“Everyone who might have been able to help us is crazy, dead, a traitor, or some combination of all three. Figures.” 1. Kaladin pls. 2. No, they can’t be dead. that’s too convenient. and also if they’d died before Taln escaped, he would have had someone there to help bear the torture burden and maybe wouldn’t have broken? Or...maybe I’m assuming Taln is stronger than he was there at the end.

Also, Kaladin, you don’t get to be self-righteous about the Heralds. I know you suffered and were tortured and survived with your oaths intact, but you almost didn’t--you reaaaally almost didn’t--and your tortures weren’t nearly as bad as theirs.

“Maybe that should make you reconsider those other wars, rather than using them to justify this one.” GET REKT, DALINAR. GOD, WHAT AN IMPORTANT LINE.

See, Shallan, that’s the beauty of Kaladin. He doesn’t consider whether or not something is “the sort of thing you say to the Blackthorn.” He knows what’s right, or what should be right, and he knows what needs to be said, and he frikkin says it. That’s one of the marvelous things about him--it’s not that he doesn’t care about the consequences, it’s that the consequences of him not speaking are worse. Because if he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t have a chance to change minds or hearts at all.

“You, three of your men, the king, and Adolin.” GOD BLESS THIS ROADTRIP

MMMMMMM YEAH NOPE

No wonder Jasnah and Taravangian got along so well; they have the same world philosophy. Murder a few people on the off chance that that might stop everyone else from dying.

Pragmatic, but ultimately horrible. And probably ineffective. The Heralds already broke. There was only a single year between the last two Desolations. It is highly likely that they any of them did go back now, they would simply break immediately and you’d have the same problem right away.

Usually, Jasnah has good ideas, but this is just. stupid.

ALSO THE FACT THAT HER ONLY OTHER SUGGESTION IS GENOCIDE OF THE PARSHENDI IS REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. COME ON, JASNAH, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT.

Listen, I don’t think Jasnah counts as a really good therapist, but at least she’s...trying? to help Shallan? Shallan really needs a therapist.

“Is there a solution?” “I don’t know.” “Perhaps...act like an adult?” Amen, Pattern. Aaaaaamen.

Here’s the thing: I fully 100% understand that Shallan is a sheltered, frightened, PTSD, abused child who can’t confront her problems and therefore hides in various identities because it’s safe there. The problem is that this is the end of the world. Nothing is safe. And acting petulant because you want to sketch in a corner and hide and the big adults are forcing you to help save the world? Not an endearing quality.

I know she has panic attacks whenever she thinks about confronting her problems, and panic attacks suck ass, but you need to work through them? At some point, if you really hate yourself that much, you have to stand up and decide to change? Decide to be better. Shallan has said several times that she hates herself and she wants to change, but she refuses to actually do that. And yeah, it’s fucking hard, but there comes a point when you just have to grow up.

~*~unpopular Shallan opinions with Megan~*~

“Was she perhaps simply not interested?” Ace!Jasnah #confirmed. haha

Okay but like...Jasnah would never train you to be only a “mousy scribe” like...what the fuck, Shallan.

oh of course. Skybreaker...

Okay, so there’s the Sons of Honor--now Amaram’s domain. The Ghostbloods. The Diagram. Hello Darkness My Old Friend’s Skybreakers--which we know from Edgedancer were working on Ishar’s orders. The listeners and the parshmen. And us. the New Radiants. That’s.....a lot of groups with very conflicted purposes and goals.

Someone else in Amaram’s army was close to bonding a spren? and Hello Darkness took them out... Was that the other voice Syl was talking about? the first person she heard? who the heck was it.

“How long will Shallan go before she remembers we’re here?” Aw, Gaz, it’s like you think she cares about you guys.

I AM FREE FROM WORK AAHHH

going to work for 8 hours mid-liveblog just sucks y’all. Anyway. On we go!

“Teft woke up. Unfortunately.” I KNOW THE FEELING, MY DUDE

also good finally please tell me what my boy has been up to/where he’s been disappearing off to

......why this

we didn’t need a drug addiction subplot. why this.

also OOH HE HAS A SPREN? What type. It’s automatic to assume Windrunner, but what if it’s not?

WELL, I’M GLAD KALADIN AND ROCK FOUND HIM wtf we didn’t need this aargghhhh

We’re...really not going to get Azir, are we? I mean. that litany of what the Sunmaker did to them...I’m not freaking surprised that they don’t trust the Alethi. I wouldn’t. That’s horrible.

Dalinar has a point about living long enough to see his consequences though. And he’s actually doing a pretty good job of owning up to his mistakes and dealing with his consequences.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to, like...apologize to Azir though.

OMG LIFT HI

HI BBY GIRL I LOVE YOU

how the heck did she get in here though? is this some of her connected-to-the-cognitive-realm stuff?

pfff Gawx just being so excited to see her thas cuuutte. Besties 5evar.

OOHHH THE ART IN THE BUBBLE IT’S GOT THE PATCH RIPPED OFF

OHHHHHH OOOOOOHHH OOOOH MY BOY. MY MOASH. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s alive I’m

aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

pfft “stew”. nothing will ever live up to Rock’s, I’m sure.

oh wait shit okay

I did not remember that Moash’s king-killing friends were Diagram peeps...I’m assuming we knew that in WoR but I did not remember and that’s... Why would Taravangian want to kill Elhokar? That wouldn’t do much to destabilize anything--that would just put Dalinar more firmly in charge... hm.

unless Taravangian wants Dalinar in charge because he know Dalinar trusts him... dangit. okay.

MEANWHILE I”M UPSET ABOUT MOASH

at least he didn’t throw the patch away. he can sew it back on when he comes back

OH GOD HE’S IMAGINING THEM BEIN HAPPY WITHOUT HIM AND I’M SAD? HE MISSES THEM SO MUCH

AAAAAHHHHHHH

n ooooo he didn’t tell them he didn’t want them to hate you it’s okay just...come hoooommmeee

OH SHIT NO NOT FUSED COME ON

LET HIM LIVE

I S2G

HE GOT A SPEAR OKAY HE’S GOT THIS HE’S THE BEST THEY HAD OH GOSH OKAY

COME ON, MOASH, YOU GOT THIS

“BRIDGE FOUR, BASTARDS” THAT’S MY BOY

IS HE GONNA BE OKAY

WHERE ARE THEY TAKING HIM

WHY ARE THEY TAKING HIM

STOP THEM FROM TAKING HIM

LET HIM COME HOME

I”M CRYING STOP PUT HIM BACK LET HIM COME HOME I MISS HIM

I legit thought he was going to kill Moash, I was ready to drive back to Utah, I WAS READY TO YELL AT PEOPLE OH GOSH

huh. art page: why are the sails on the bottom? Are these air ships? stick the sails into a highstorm, let it push you along on the winds? that...would be dangerous but REALLY COOL?

“Red, stop trying to make deevy a thing, it’s not gonna be a thing.”

it’s like groovy but worse sounding

so when is Ishnah, the espionage lesbian, going to call Shallan’s bluff?

Sorry, Veil’s bluff.

I feel like Shallan’s plotline in this book is just that Onion headline that’s like, “Area [wo]man thought breakdown would be more obvious”

I love Shallan being jealous and suspicious of Adolin’s flames, but Janala isn’t the one you gotta worry about. Danlan’s the one in the Ghostbloods. Ghostbloods? Diagram? shit, I’ve forgotten which evil organization she’s in... or if it even matters. She hasn’t shown up again, has she?

idk, Jasnah, Shallan was justified this time. Anyone making fun of Renarin definitely deserves the Sarcasm Bludgeon.

But Shallan, you weren’t invited on the boys road trip.

though, tbh, that could be fun...

BUT KALADIN JUST LEFT REVOLAR. MOASH JUST ARRIVED OR WAS DRAGGED WHATEVER BUT KALADIN JUST LEFT. THEY COULD HAVE SEEN EACH OTHER, KALADIN COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE, HE COULD HAVE COME HOME.

ARRGGHH

“They had no reason to obey the lighteyes. They had no power, no authority.” That’s the problem with tradition. With having something so societially ingrained that you can never shake it, because you don’t think to try.

Moash no. don’t... don’t run yourself into the ground pulling wagons, please, darling, just... don’t die. Don’t give up. Stand your ground, find a way, come home

the letter in the epigraph: “Rayse is contained and we care not fot his prison.” yeah, uh...you gotta....you gotta do maintenance at the very least...to make sure he stays in prison? like...just...check the locks every once in a while? idk. this seems like it might be your fault if he escapes...

Sigzil being scientific and doing tests on them all is still so endearing. I love him.

Also poor Skar. let the man get his squire on, pls.

also, someone who can draw, please, please do an art of Rock doing the “Horneater victory dance” and skipping through a field of wildflowers and butterflies. Please. This is important art.

they still leave a hole in the conference circle for Moash, and hi this is my ghost I’m dead now bye

god, Kaladin would make them do squad formations in the air. Is there a goose-migration vee formation?

SKAR IS A GOOD. A GOOD TEACHER AND A GOOD GLOWING PERSON AAHH

Hey, guys, did you know I love Bridge Four?

[broke-bitch-mountain]

Total Eclipse of the Heart

@quichekolgate another chapter! Finally XD. 

So I’m going to try and get the next update sooner (end of the week maybe?? It depends on if I sleep all day or not lol) and hopefully this will start to pick up soon! I want to take time to let Shiro, Lance and Keith get a proper relationship arc without it interrupting the action.  So here’s an attempt at that with Shiro and Lance! I’ll try to work on Keith and Shiro in the next update! ALSO! I’m working on a twelve days of Christmas OTP thing that I’m going to post about soon so keep your eyes open for that!

Chapter Three: Fate

Around noon, the small group came together at the front of the castle. Katie had two packs, one with the tracer to find Lotor and Klaizap, and the other had supplies for the week. She wore brown shorts and a long sleeved green and white shirt.

Keith and Lance each had a pack with provisions and clothes, each choosing long pants made of thick fabric, and long sleeved shirts to protect them from the environment. Keith had two water bottles, one attached to hip and a pouch that held emergency snacks in case they were somehow separated. Or if Lotor hadn’t eaten in the time frame of kidnapping to rescue.

Just as they were heading out though, Shiro came out of the castle, packed and ready.

“There’s at least three different royal families that will declare war if even one of you doesn’t come back alive.” he explained. “Besides, I’ve never been one to wait around for death.”

Keith found the footsteps that Klaizap was most likely following after Alfor showed them the path the Aurusian went down.

“It looks like a few different pairs.” Keith noted, “There’s one that’s more tong shaped, but the others look like a similar shoe with different sizes.”

“The dirt is still fresh,” Shiro mused while rubbing a small sample between his thumb and finger.

“We should get moving.” Keith said, “They have anywhere from eight to twelve hours on us.”

“I’m ready to go,” Katie said.

“Then let’s go.” Shiro said, “day light won’t stay for long!”

Six hour later, the sun started to set and Shiro began looking for a good place to stop for the night. Much to the relief of his companions. While Keith had never considered himself a slacker in his workout routines, he was feeling the burn in his legs from the six hour hike they had just treked. He couldn’t imagine how Lance or Katie where holding up. He had offered to carry her equipment about halfway through before instantly regretting it and passing it over to Shiro who didn’t even break stride.

Lance had gone silent in the last hour, which, color Keith impressed, was a shocking development. He had been running his mouth asking questions about Shiro and Katie while constantly reminding them that they didn’t have to answer, he just didn’t like quite and it was really quite, like quite enough to her heartbeats, can you feel your heartbeat through your prosthetic?

Shiro was a good sport despite the rudeness, offering simple yes or no with a small amount of explanation when comfortable. Katie, on the other hand, stopped answering about an hour in. Clearly displeased about the physical aspect in general and was trying to suffer in peace thank you very much. Keith had picked up on the negative vibes which added to his offer to carry her equipment.

As soon as the light was fading, Shiro had them set down for a campsite for the night. While Katie tracked their progress and gage how much further Lotor and Klaizap where, Keith and Lance set up the tent that Shiro had thought to bring. Shiro wondered a few feet from their designated spot to double check that they weren’t in immediate danger and to collect firewood.

“You ok, babe?” Lance whispered

“I thought you were mute by now.” Keith teased.

“Not funny.” Lance shoved, “Dick.”

“Your dick.” Keith smiled.

“Seriously, Mr. Side track. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine...what about you? You holding up?”

“Psh,” Lance shrugged, “I’m golden. You know what they called me back in class? The Tailor, cause of how I can make a tight fit work.” he winked.

Keith snorted, “You dork.”

“Your dork.”

“Please don’t kiss.” Katie popped their bubble. “Like, I get that you’re in love, but I need to focus and you getting cutesy is distracting.”

Lance scoffed, popping his hip, “You’re just jealous!”

“Somebody is…” she mumbled.

Before Lance could ask her to repeat herself, Shiro came back with a slight flush. The first time he had shown any level of exhaustion since they left. “Looking good boys! Pidge, how’s those readings coming?”

“Not Pidge, and they’re almost done mapping.”

“What kind of name is Pidge?” Lance prodded, excited to have another line of conversation to burn.

“Her brother introduced her to me as Pidge.” Shiro smiled then smirked at the princess in questions, “and it stuck better than her name I guess.”

“No, it didn’t, Sir Shirogane.” she playfully sneered.

Shiro dramatically pouted and Lance stifled a laugh. He looked ridiculous, over muscled as he was with puppy dog eyes. Though it was kind of cute, and it was nice to have such a playful atmosphere after the rough day they had. So he turned back around and finished tightening the tent down while listening to Lance joke about how he thought Katie had earned her despised nickname.

“Is he always high energy?” Shiro asked, checking the rope’s tension.

“Only when he’s uncomfortable,” Keith explained. “He thinks if he puts on a show nobody will notice he’s on the wrong stage.” he smiled fondly at his fiance. Who was currently being pinned by Katie who was half his size. “He’s probably trying to get her to forgive him for bugging her earlier.”

“By bugging her more?”

“It’s surprisingly effective.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah, as the test dummy.”

To nobody’s surprise, Shiro was probably the best person ever to have with you when you’re out in the woods. It took maybe ten dobashes, at the largest estimate, for Shiro to build a small fire to keep them warm. Then turned to Katie to ask for the data she had been collecting.

“So, we have a rough map of the surrounding land here.” she explained, “we are the black dots, Lotor is supposedly the red dot and Klaizap is the yellow. It looks like Lotor has stopped for a while now cause his energy signature hasn’t moved any further for the last varga. Klaizap though, is still moving towards Lotor’s location, which means he’s lucky, confident or whoever took the prince left a trail.”

“How much farther from Lotor then?” Shiro pressed.

“A day, day and a half maybe. Granted that’s him staying in that same spot.”

“Then we should head out at first light.” Shiro decided, “I’ll take watch to make sure nothing sneaks up on us. You three go ahead and get some shut-eye.”

“Wake me up when you’re ready to switch.” Keith said, holding the tent opened for Katie.

“I’ll stay up a bit longer.” Lance smiled, “It’s been awhile since I had such a clear view of the stars.”

Keith nodded and ducked into the tent.

“Sooo...they really just let Klaizap walk off huh?” Lance started.

“Yeah, it was really weird.” Shiro nodded.

“I grew up hearing stories that fate hand picked those who were sacrificed.” Lance mumbled. “Literally, the first words out of my father’s mouth when Allura found out was ‘it’s such an honor, almost like fate’ he said.” Lance forced his voice lower in a mockery of his father, puffed out chest and everything.

“Have you changed your mind then?”

Lance deflated a bit, “...a part of me never really believed it…I remembered a handful of governors and other royals tell me that my mother’s death was for a reason. But I couldn’t find it. Like, if I could figure it out. I could apologize…” he trailed off.

“To Allura?”

“Allura...dad….the kingdom…” Lance gave a small laugh, “If it weren’t for me, then they would be ok...alive…”

“I’m sure Allura doesn’t blame you.” Shiro tried.

“She stopped talking to me when we found out what Hagger coming.” Lance said, “If I wasn’t here then mom would have been here to teach Allura, and Allura wouldn’t have been chosen for Haggar cause that would have ended the royal line, so it is actually kind of my fault she’s mad and honestly? I don’t blame her!”

“...how long has that been resting on your shoulders?”

“...while…”

“...that’s fair.”

For a while the two sat in silence, gazing into the fire. The smoke made Lance’s eyes water a bit, but the chipper popping of wood stopped them from turning into full blown tears. Though the fire didn’t seem to be as warm as before. Forest animals pranced around them, oblivious to the heavy air between their two guest for the night. Many too concerned with their own problems to stop and be curious.

“When I was about ten, a group of Galren soldiers, lead by a guy named Sendek, tried to claim our colony on Earth.” Shiro sighed, “A group of them was sent to separate the kids, cause panic and dumb moves I guess. As luck would have it, the royal family was out with the people, and the two heirs got separated, ended up close to me. Sendek noticed and tried to grab them. I was prodigy for the army through my father, so I didn’t have a ton of fighting experience but it was enough to get the three of us away.”

“We ended up hiding behind some trash in the alleyway. Eventually soldiers showed up, chaos ensued and they got the Galra away. When the three of us came out, King and Queen Holt were grateful and offered me a job training to be one of their best. I almost didn’t take it.”

“Why not?” Lance whispered.

“Because a few of the kids we ran from had died in the chaos. I believed that I should have been good enough to save them before accepting a position to be better.” Shiro explained.

“But you were just a kid!” Lance exclaimed. Shiro gave him a pointed look, “oh…”

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Hey, Shannen! As my fave tvd meta person these days, what are your thoughts on the way Stefan's story ended in particular? I am pissed off about SE and the way they made Damon the better brother, the better man, but I've always thought Stefan would die, somehow maybe sacrificing himself so in a way as sad as it made me it also made some sense even if the circumstances as a whole sucked.

Hey there! Aww, that’s such a huge compliment, thank you so much! This is an interesting question to get asked and I’m so glad you did ask. This isn’t a simple topic to discuss, so get yourself comfortable, because this is probably gonna be a long one. 

Well, currently I have mixed emotions about the way in which Stefan’s story ended. On the one hand, just like you said, I feel like Stefan sacrificing himself was very fitting with his character. From the very beginning Stefan has always been the hero of the story, there’s a reason why pretty much every characters (even the villains) have referred to him as being one - because it’s true. He said that as a human he cared about others and felt their pain and that as a vampire that became amplified and I really feel like that’s always been at the core of Stefan’s character and it’s part of the reason I love him so much, because I identify with that. That feeling of not being able to separate yourself from someone else’s emotions, particularly those you care about, of somehow always feeling responsible when they’re hurt or suffering and of wanting more than anything to ease that in anyway you can, even if it’s not necessarily your place to. That’s what Stefan has always been about and it’s the reason he was the Ripper - because as a vampire carrying that constant burden was too much to handle and instead he took to being the complete opposite and turning it all off and instead inflicting pain on others instead of helping them. But the point of me pointing this out, is that Stefan’s sacrifice in 8x16 was yet again him somehow feeling as though it’s his responsibility to save everyone, that he should be the one to die so as to give everyone else their happiness. Why did he have to do that? He didn’t. When you really think about it no one had to sacrifice themselves, they could’ve all worked together to find a way to stop Katherine. But this is classic Stefan, him assuming responsibility for everyone’s well being, and particularly when it comes to Damon and Elena. 

And this is where my issue stems from regarding Stefan’s sacrifice - it wasn’t for a purposeful enough reason. This is Stefan Salvatore we’re talking about, if he was going to die I wanted it to be for a real reason, but it just didn’t feel like that to me. First of all, the initial impression is that he sacrificed himself to save Mystic Falls from being devoured by hell and to save everyone he loved, which is great and everything, except for a couple of flaws: 

1. Why couldn’t Stefan have worked with everyone to bring Katherine down? That way no one would’ve had to of died. 2. Out of everyone, why/how the hell was having Stefan - a human - be the one to kill Katherine logical? 

But the biggest issue of all is that this isn’t why Stefan died. Stefan died because he decided to give Damon the cure. Of course he was going to sacrifice himself to take Katherine down, because he was going to die anyway. And this is what bugs me, because no matter how you look at it, Stefan dying was largely done to prop up Damon and Elena’s happy ending.As Elena said herself, she owed her entire life to Stefan, and so did Damon. What’s even more annoying is that yet again, it wasn’t even necessary. If Damon wanted to be human, why couldn’t he have taken the cure from Elena, who wouldn’t have died since she’s only 19 years old? 

I understand that it’s not necessarily about whether Stefan had to die or not, it’s the fact that being the person he was, he made a choice to sacrifice himself without a second thought for his brother’s happiness. I think that the writers intended for Stefan’s death to be the ultimate tribute to the Defan relationship. That in the end, Damon did redeem himself, he did become a better person and Stefan finally saw that (because let’s honest, although Stefan has always tried to be there for Damon he’s always seen the worst in him and never truly believed he could change) and Stefan wanted and was happy to die to give that man - the one he told Elena about in their final scene - to have a chance at a happy, human life with the woman he loved. The sentiment of it isn’t completely lost on me, but it doesn’t stop me from questioning why. 

Just because Damon redeemed himself (which that is an argument in itself, because did he really?), why did he deserve to have everything he wanted whilst Stefan died? Stefan was always a good person, he went on the same journey as Damon in terms of trying to overcome his darkness and make amends for his past, so why did Damon get rewarded with the happy ending and Stefan didn’t? 

It’s definitely easy to perceive Stefan’s death as being the writers favouring or choosing Damon over Stefan, which makes me so damn angry, but if you look at it from a different perspective, the fact that they killed Stefan actually proved that the writers loved and respected Stefan more than anyone else on the show. I discussed this in response to another ask I got where I explained why I thought Damon would be the one to die, and what I said was that I thought Damon would be the one to die because the writers love him so much that they want the finale to be all about him getting a poetic and heroic ending and that by killing him it would actually be making it all about him. Now I can see that I was partly right, I just believed it about the wrong brother. Stefan was the one they believed deserved that heroic ending, he was the one they wanted to accredit with being the reason for everyone’s happy endings. As a writer myself and someone that’s always read a lot, I know what the symbolism of a major character death is, particularly when it’s at the end of a story and it’s a sacrifice such as Stefan’s. Writers only do that to their most loved characters, because by killing them they actually make them the most important and well remembered and loved character. So in a backwards kind of way, Stefan’s death was actually an honor to him of the highest caliber. 

Having said this, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s unfair that Stefan didn’t get a chance at a happy ending. I’m not a Steroline shipper, but he’d just become human, he’d married Caroline and was literally in touching range of that shot at a normal life that he’d always yearned for. And I don’t care what anyone says, he did deserve that. He deserved a shot at happiness just like everyone else and in reality, he was the only one on the show that didn’t get it. I know that he technically lived for 177 years which is more than a long and full life by any human’s standards, but at the same time he was still only a 17 year old boy that hadn’t had the chance to just live as a human and have normal human experiences. 

But when you factor in the concept of afterlife the writers created in the finale, it puts a different spin on things. Just a little note before I get started, whether or not those final scenes where Elena reunited with her family and Damon with Stefan were meant to be literal representations of the afterlife or imagined is up to interpretation, but I certainly took it as being literal and for the purpose of what I’m about to say next, that’s the theory I’m going with. So, the idea of there being an afterlife or heaven whereby the characters are reunited with their loved ones and live eternally with them means that Stefan’s death is so much easier to accept and be happy about. I mean, everyone knows that Stelena is my OTP of all OTP’s, but do you want to know the scene that really got me emotional? The one that got my heart pumping, made my eyes bleary, caused a lump to form in my throat and made me laugh with joy? The scene where Stefan reunited with Lexi. Like honestly, after Stelena Stexi is my biggest ship for Stefan (platonically not romantically) and that scene was so special to me. Before I go off on a tangent about this, my point is that if Stefan died and got to be with Lexi, his best friend, for the rest of his life and then his brother when Damon died, I’m totally okay with that. Let’s be honest here, Stefan had a pretty miserable life and although there were happy moments in between the bad ones, there was just a constant string of suffering for him. We’re led to believe at the end that Elena and Damon led some semblance of a happy life together, but that’s a far-reaching, if you ask me. When Stefan became human it undid his compulsion, what do you think would’ve happened when Damon’s compulsion reversed? These are the kinds of things the writers forget about, because let me tell you, Damon’s compulsion becoming undone would rain a shit storm of shit onto Damon and Elena’s picture perfect life. Not to mention that being human again means that Elena’s the doppelganger, so surely that means she’d be coveted again. What I’m trying to say here is that in the lives of these characters and the world they’re a part of, there’s no such thing as happy endings. Becoming human doesn’t magically sever their ties from that world. The things they did, the enemies they made as vampires still exist. Even if Stefan would’ve lived, the terrible things he did as a vampire wouldn’t have magically reversed, there would be humans and vampires alike that would’ve wanted to make him suffer and how long do you think he would’ve lasted? So when you think about it like that, the idea of Stefan dying is the happiest ending he could’ve had. He is finally at peace. It might be in the afterlife, but he is human, he is free from the past, no longer running from various villains or having to sacrifice himself for others and he’s with his best friend. He can just be Stefan now. No more vampire Stefan or Ripper Stefan or hero Stefan, just Stefan. 

And because I haven’t necessarily answered your question in simplest way, I just want to confirm that given everything that’s happened across the 8 seasons, I am reasonably satisfied with Stefan’s ending. He got the chance to be human (even if it was only for a short amount of time), he got to marry someone he loved and he died as himself; as a hero, making a sacrifice for the person he loved most in the world - his brother - and he finally found peace with him and the other person he loved most in the world - his best friend.