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i-choose-liam · 6 years

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Infinite - Hayden Young (f) x MC (m)

A/N: Based on prompt #18 from @indescribablechoices‘s post.

Tagging @bowful who was kind enough to ask to be on my permanent tag list. I forgot who else asked to be on there. 😅

I have wanted to write a Hayden x MC fic for a while. This was supposed to be smut, but my brain backfired and this happened. My MC is male and named Darcy. My Hayden is an activist personality. I hope you all like this little piece. :)

My fondest memory of her, you say? Well, there are so many I can’t choose one. But… there was this time in Florence when we… god, that was a night.

“Let’s go for a drive”

“Now?”

I stopped mid-way, taking off my jacket. Hayden stood by the door to our hotel room. She had a smile on her face as she shrugged, saying,

“Why not? The night’s still young, and so are we”

I kept my jacket on and grabbed the keys to the rental. She looked so excited, I couldn’t help but tease her about it.

“Aren’t you the same person who makes me turn off the engine at the red light, citing statistics for air pollution?”, I asked.

She winked,

“Why do you think I made you rent an electric?”

I shook my head, smiling. Our rental car really was an electric. It didn’t have a roof, Hayden’s preference for the week. She walked out of the room after me, hugging me from behind while I closed the door. I chuckled.

“Somebody’s affectionate tonight”, I said.

She gave me a quick kiss.

“I always am, baby. Come on. On to our ride”

Florence is actually pretty beautiful at night. The lighting on the grand structures is an art in itself to look at. And for some reason, we didn’t have much traffic on the road that night. Maybe because I was taking a more secluded road that led towards the countryside.

The cool air whipped at our hair in the dark. The lights seemed to twinkle above and around. I drove, glancing at Hayden every now and then. She was looking the other way, from her side, bobbing her head to some tune inside. She always did that when she was happy, you know.

The side of her face was lit up in a soft glow, like the lights were kissing her cheek. I still remember what she wore that night. A crop top, a light jacket and skinny jeans. She did look good, yeah. She looked beautiful.

“Are you humming Taylor Swift?”, I asked.

Hayden turned to me, smiling. And she started singing to me, with that not-at-all-innocent gleam in her eye.

“In the middle of the night, in my dreams…”

I laughed,

“Oh no”

She leaned over and gave me a kiss, still singing,

“You should see the things we do… baby”

“Hayden? I’m driving”

I don’t know if she heard me say that. Next thing I know, she is standing up in the car, her arms spread apart like that statue we saw in Brazil. You remember? More like Emma Watson in Perks of Being a Wallflower. That’s right.

I, being the mother goose, panicked.

“Hayden, what are you doing?”

She laughed,

“I’m fine, Darcy. You just keep the car on the road”

I had a hard time concentrating on driving. Her hair… it was blowing with the wind, and she had her head tilted back, her eyes closed. Like she was soaking up the moment with welcome arms.

I kept my eyes on the road, catching glimpses of her every now and then. It was hard not to look at her. She looked… ethereal. Like the night would never end. Like we could just keep on driving forever, never getting tired, never getting old. Frozen in one beautiful moment of eternity – just her and me. To be honest with you, I wouldn’t have minded that. So I kept on driving. And sneaking peeks at the woman I was madly in love with.

We stopped near a cliff outside the city. I parked a good ten feet away from the drop, double-checking the handbrakes. I thought she would make a joke about me being paranoid, but she didn’t. When I looked at her, she had tears in her eyes.

“Hey. Hey, come here”, I gently pulled her closer, “Hayden, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing”, she grinned, “Absolutely nothing”

“You’re scaring me”

She gave me that half-deprecating, half-affectionate “You’re kidding me” look. You know that look, right?

“I’m fine, really. I’m just thinking”

“Euro for your thoughts?”

She chuckled, looking down at our hands intertwined on her lap. When she looked up, I swear there was starlight in her eyes.

“Isn’t this being human?”, she said, “Going for a drive on impulse, with the one I love. Feeling the wind in my hair, under my clothes, on my skin. Feeling so… so, so alive, that I can’t put it into words?”

I said,

“Of course it is”

Hayden wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. She said, looking down at our hands again,

“I want so many things. I want to do volunteer work. I want to start a charity. I want to run a marathon. I want to make the world a better place. I want”

She turned to smile at me.

“I want to have your babies”

She took my hand and placed it on her stomach, saying,

“I want to feel our love grow here… till it becomes a tiny human being, with your smile and your heart”

Those were thoughts, back then at least, that I couldn’t have found a solution to. They were questions actually, and I didn’t have the answers.

So I joked.

“Not my devilish good looks?”

She took the hint at once and shook her head at me. She said,

“Nope. The world can’t handle all that handsomeness”

We laughed and we kissed. When she laid her head against my shoulder, I pulled her into my lap. It felt just right, her being nestled against my chest, my arms protectively wrapped around her. I told her.

“I want to have kids with you too. And there are so many ways to have them. I was actually going to broach that topic when we got home, but… how do you feel about adoption?”

She looked up at me, smiling like she couldn’t believe what I had just said. She asked me over and over – “Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?”

I convinced her, there in the car itself. And by the time we headed back home, she was already coming up with names. We got married a week after that.

And that is the story of how Mom and Dad decided to adopt you, my little princess.

Your Mom was so excited about having you. She would have had me repaint the whole house. God, I remember her standing on our porch and frowning at me. She looked cute even when she was angry.

“Gender neutral colors, Darcy Park! How many times do I have to tell you?”

No, we didn’t fight. It was impossible to fight with your Mom. I would end up apologizing and kissing her two minutes into the argument. Don’t “Ew, gross” me. She was the love of my life.

Yes, kiddo. I miss her too. And believe me, she would have given anything to be with you here right now, with us.

Someday, maybe when you’re older, I’ll tell you how it happened. All you need to know, is that your Mom loved you very much. And she was incredibly brave, right until the end. She redefined what it means to be human.

Naw, I’m not crying. I’m okay. I’m okay, it’s just my allergies. Yeah? Well, you’re not an expert liar yourself, missy.

I’m fine, sweetheart, really. Do you feel better now? Promise? Good. Give your Dad a kiss.

Thank you. Do you want me to leave the lights on? No? Oh, you’re strong and brave like Mom, huh? Of course you are, honey.

You want Mom’s blanket? Sweetie, it’s pretty thin, and it’s cold tonight. Okay, okay. But only if you layer up. I’ll go get it for you.

Here you go. Now to tuck you in… there. Comfy? Great. Say good night.

I love you too, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.

#hayden young #hayden x mc #hayden young x mc #perfect match #mc x hayden young #activist hayden #m/f #fanfiction #writing prompt #playchoices

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rosey-writes · 5 years

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The Alchemist Tributes: Book One

Questioning

Demand Answers

There used to be a library around here. And by ‘used to’, I mean before Panem even existed. I mean back in the days before the floods and quakes and some apocalyptic, omnipresent being called ‘Taylor Swift’. Before the Dark Days were even an idea. Back in some place called ‘America’.

I learned about it on one of the many, many runs from my dad. This isn’t a sob story, I’m not special because I have daddy issues and mommy got shot. I was too young to remember her anyway, and I’d be far from unique. But, I was still a child running away from his problems.

There are next to no natural areas in District 1, unless you count the trimmed, plastic gardens spaced in the richer neighborhoods. The whole place was paved over, factories, lakes wherever the eye could see. And so, the polluted little lake in the middle of the poorest part of our city was where I went. Sitting by the water, I’d dipped my feet in, because I was young and stupid and hadn’t heard the word cholera before; when my feet brushed something plastic. I’d leaned down, pulling it from the water, and inside was a book, shrink-wrapped in a sealed container, words Yorkwood Library stamped across the cover. With a bit of digging, I found three more, each with the same stamp. From then on, time to time I came back to that lake, occasionally dredging some scraps to acknowledge that yes, the world was, in fact, always this shitty.

Regardless, in my sessions of grey-area treason, I came the concept of ‘karma’. And, as I am realizing at this very moment she is, in fact, a bitch.

Yeah, as I was marched into the justice building, locked in the visiting room, left to stew in my own misery, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me that, alright, maybe this is a teensy tiny bit entirely my own fault. That maybe, when you’re a dick to everyone you meet, they just might take the opportunity to get rid of you.

However, that doesn’t make me want to kill them any less.

Quite honestly, I was expecting I wouldn’t get a single visitor, until Illias stormed through the doors, the wood cracking back against the concrete. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Yes, it’s my fault I was voted-” the first landed on my cheek landed before I could even react, wincing, clutching it as a peacekeeper snapped Illias from behind, handcuffing them together with a mutter of ‘no injuring the tribute.’

Like a rabid mutt, kicking and screaming, his skin bled red from trying to twist to pull his arms away as a second peacekeeper came to subdue him. “This was my turn, mine! I should be in there! Let go of me, they can’t take him if he’s dead!” As he was dragged out, I stayed glued to the couch, wondering if winning really was such a great idea anymore. Maybe I should just let him rip my colon through my nose. It may just be quicker at this point.

After he was gone, my father came in, Bravon stomping, Satin following like a kicked puppy at their heels.

Clearing his throat, Aren sat, face impassive. “So.”

There was a long, long pause, before Bravon decided to break the silence with a stomp. “You just had to spite us, didn’t you? You couldn’t let Illias have this, you just had to go and take it for yourself.”

“He can have it back. Please take it off my hands.” It was hard to keep the desperation from bleeding into my voice. I couldn’t be weak, not now, not until I was alone in the train.

“This isn’t funny.” He slammed his hands down in a way that was so Illias like, he had to have practiced. Big brother worship at it’s finest. “You’re going to die in there. He would have won.”

“Nice to know that’s why you don’t want me going in-”

“You never seemed to mind him dying, any of us dying, you never seem to care about mom, you never cared about Ale-”

“You expect me to have that much of an attachment to a woman I practically never met?” I could hear the waver, my pitch going up, volume going down, fists clenching behind my back. This wasn’t going to last. And he did not dare to bring up - stop. “What makes you so certain I won’t win?”

The silence said more than any ‘Bambi.’

“I can’t believe you.” Turning out, Bravon stormed through the doors. All that was left was dad and Satin.

“Son.” Aren stood, staring down at me. “You know how I feel. And you know how I feel about your brother. Don’t dishonor this family anymore. Win with dignity, or don’t come home at all.” And there he went. All that was left was Satin.

Biting his lip, Satin fidgeted in his seat, checking the door like some monster would spring and attack him.

“I know you can win.”

What? He said it so quietly, I...I couldn’t have heard it right.

“I know you can, Eli, I know it. They know it to. It’s why they’re angry, you’re taking Illias’s glory.” A small smile came to Satin’s face. “You’re going to outsmart them.”

With a slight gulp, I tried to keep my eyes from widening. “I…”

“Stunned? The great, verbose Eliot? I’ll take it as a victory.” Satin patted my shoulder, standing. “I love you, little bro. Go get’m. Size isn’t everything, right?” He glanced to the door again. “And don’t tell dad, but, I’m quitting the Academy.”

What? No. He. What?

“Mister Deamorte. He’s looking for an assistant, and Fiyero told me he said if I applied, I’d get it on the spot.” Today was just getting more and more confusing. I wanted to ask why, but, well… it was nice, having at least one person say they were rooting for me.

“I love you too.” With a sad smile, I pulled Satin into a hug. More than a little awkward, considering he had a full head on me, but I needed it. I’ve never needed it before. Right now, I needed it more than anything.

The peacekeeper on the other side knocked “Times up.”

With a shuddering breath, I pulled back. “Hey, Satin.”

“Yeah?”

I gave a small smile. “You get my room.”

---

Minutes later, I was in the car. I caught my reflection in the mirror, bruises blossoming on my cheek, hair splayed at every angle. I looked beaten, broken, and more than anything else, pissed. And, sadly, not in the strong, rage-filled vengeance quest I wanted. More like a petulant child.

I didn’t have any makeup, so I reached into my backpack, pulling out my hooded jacket, shoving the suit aside. Throwing it on, I pulled the strings so it covered my face. Alright, that works. When I went to put the pack back down, I heard the clink of glass.

Oh, right, I brought the perfumes.

With a sigh, I picked one up. Chamomile peppermint and a dash of rosemary, to calm anxiety and up your energy. I liked it, but it was far from popular. With a slight smile, I sprayed it on. I felt my shoulders relax, eyes drifting shut.

A few minutes later, I was shoved into the horde of paparazzi, vultures, whatever you can imagine. My face was hidden by the hood, thankfully. I hoped it came off dangerous, but I’m pretty sure I just looked scared shitless. Especially next to Amazonia; six foot two, with those grass green eyes that showed just how much she couldn’t wait to gouge out my own, muddy brown. I managed to glance in the reflection of one of the car windows and dear God. I looked like a terrified child hiding behind his mother. A mother who wants to eat him, but hey, that describes lots of kids here.

Mercifully, we were pushed through the doors, which shut behind us. I was alone, finally… okay, well, I wasn’t alone, there were Capitol people everywhere, plus Amazonia, but I was as alone as I was going to get until they gave me a room. So, I pulled down my hood, sighing in relief as the train began to move.

… And to stop again in another ten minutes.

Look, we’re on a Capitol trains, which go what, 250 MPH? From District 1, we’d be there in an hour. The Capitol doesn’t want that, they want all the tributes arriving on the same day, so the train sits here twenty four hours, as we twiddle our thumbs like schmucks.

Soon I was led to my room, which… wow… this… I was not expecting this. The walls were a lush glittery gold, muted enough a shade that it calmed instead of glared. The sheets were plush enough I thought they were actual clouds, a small window hanging above the bed showed the forest landscape I never thought I’d see. Pulling open the drawer, it was stuffed with thick wool, silk, cashmere everything. I’d never seen anything so luxurious.

Now, I live - lived, I corrected myself, then changed it back to live because I’m winning this thing damn it - in Victor’s Village, which is nice. Extremely nice. I figured I had as high a life as one could get, though I never took much advantage of it. As soon as dad dies I’d be kicked out. Even if one of my brothers won the games, there’s not a doubt in my mind they would have me arrested if I came over for tea.

… Except… apparently Satin.

Plopping down on the bed, I brought my knees to my chest, because this made no sense. Satin, I knew he was the smartest, I suspected he had more to life ahead of him than murder, but, well… I was never nice to Satin. I was probably worse to him than any of my other brothers, because Illias could step on me, and Bravon was a slightly smaller Illias. Satin, while still stronger than me and a good head, well, ahead, he never gave the same danger reading. I guess that made him the easier target.

Karma.

Honestly, the fact that he visited me, it made this so, so much worse. Because I could just run on rage before. I could blindly charge in because I had nothing to lose, everything to prove, and my only reason for coming home was to rub it in their faces. But now, Satin cared. Now I was going to have to deal with this guilt in the back of my mind. It’s so foreign to me, caring, and of course the first time I get it is right before I have to slit a twelve-year-old’s throat.

With a sigh, I stood again, heading into the bathroom. The shower was… I can’t even begin to describe this thing. The amount of buttons made it look like someone dropped an octopus tentacle in chrome. Well, I guess that does more than begin to describe it.

That wasn’t what I was looking for, though. After a bit of digging, I managed to find some makeup in the drawers. Half my face was plum colored now, ached at the slightest prod. My shoulder seemed popped too, and as the prod began to fade I felt the ache flowing through me. Gritting my teeth, I applied the cover-up, just enough to hide any evidence of getting clocked in the face. I’m sure my design team will have much better for this, and I was far from the best with makeup.

Though I know someone who is.

Ah, there, that’s something I can get behind thinking about. Fiyero Deamorte. All the things I was going to do to that brat when I saw him. This was his fault, all of it, I know it. As soon as it was announced, he turned to all his little followers, who turned to theirs, and that’s why everyone voted for me. I mean, I piss off a lot of people, but not enough to swing the entire youth population of a District to just write off the male candidate for victory. No, the only person with that kind of mind-control is same one who couldn’t spell it.

Soon, there was a knock at my door, offering to lead me to the dining room. I quickly stripped off my outfit, throwing on a pair that was labeled ‘sweatpants’ and a loose cotton shirt that felt like it didn’t exist. Seriously, I had to check the mirror five times to be sure I wasn’t actually naked. It was a strange sensation.

Then I’m led- dragged- to the table, large oak wood with golden finishing, with a white tablecloth. I wanted to take the moment to be impressed, but, instead, I just wanted to run back to the safety of my room because Amazonia was staring again.

“So you came, huh? Thought you would’ve offed yourself with a scarf by now, save us all the trouble.”

“Now, come on, you know nothing gives me more joy than being a pain in the ass.” I sat down across from her, rather impressed with the fact I didn’t actually melt into a pile on the floor.

“Smart. Smart’s not going to do you much good when there’s a sword in your gut.”

“Well I-”

“Tributes.” Lamar cleared his throat from behind me, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t jump. But I’m a liar, so, I did not jump.

“Finally, someone I can actually talk to.” Amazonia crossed her legs, clicking her tongue.

Sitting down at the head, Lamar cleared his throat. “First, we’ll get our food, then, we’ll begin to talk strategy.”

“We’re missing two people.” From everything I’d ever heard or read, the escort and other mentor join you for your meal.

“They’re…” There was the sound of shattered glass, a cheer, and loud laughter far down the hallways. “Occupied for now.”

Lovely.

Within a few moments, the meal began to arrive, and, I say this as one of the richest people, in the richest District, our most victorious lifespans yet, this is by far more food than I’d ever seen. I could see Amazonia outright salivating. Sometimes I forget, even in our District, more than a few people don’t get enough to eat.

But still, I didn’t even know this many types of food existed. I couldn’t recognize half the meats or vegetables, anything, really. They all just paraded in front of my eyes, and I knew now was not the time to try out a new fad diet, they’re called the Hunger Games for a reason, and with my metabolism, I would have about twenty minutes before I starved at my weight.

About halfway through them bringing out the first course, though, these little, for lack of a better term, white balls came out, sprinkled with green herbs - garlic, I was later told - with a cup of liquid butter next to it. I admit, I was interested.

They were the single best thing I have ever experienced in my life. Not the best food. The best anything. I’m rather sure they will forever be the best thing I will experience, sorry to any future children who are unfortunate enough to share my DNA, their birth will be about a four in comparison to this. Needless to say, I ordered another six rounds.

When all the food was brought, Lamar placed down his fork and knife. “Down to business. First, what skills do you have?”

Amazonia cracked her knuckles, and that’s when I noticed she’d actually sharpened her canines. Are you kidding me. “Are there any skills I don’t have?”

“Be specific, please.”

“Throwing knives, swords, spears, clubs, climbing, and tracking were all A subjects for me. I graduated top of the class every year I was in.”

Lamar gave a slow nod, jotting notes down in a small black book. “Swift?” I wasn’t sure if I should be glad or angry about the fact this man who’s known me since I could breathe seemed to have zero emotional attachment to my fate.

“I…” What could I say here? “Chemistry.”

Amazonia started to cackle, but Lamar glanced to her, and she stifled it with her napkin. “Anything else? Anything you have experience in?”

“Just chemistry.”

“... Chemistry,” he repeated in a low, incredulous voice. “Your skillset for a game of murder is chemistry?” And in that moment, I knew I no longer had a mentor.

After the meal, we’re led to another compartment where the TV takes up the entire wall. Lamar skips District 1, saving it for last. I want to complain, but, he’s just about the only person I can’t afford to hate me. Don’t care about me, fine, he wasn’t getting me any sponsors anyway, but on the astronomical chance someone does want to donate, I don’t want him refusing.

District 2 is even more terrifying than usual. They picked their best and brightest, no doubt, both boy and girl. And… I admit to possibly staring at the boy a bit longer than I should have. Shut up, I’m about to die, leave me alone. Only interesting thing from District 3 is the girl is twelve, possibly the only one my height and weight, so I can’t even begin to imagine what horrible things she did to get her name on the ballot. District 4 is like District 2, the District 5 boy broke down crying on the spot, District 6 boy did some strange hand thing, District 11 recruited a girl I think is an actual giant, and District 12 has just given up on ever winning again since their humiliation, because they sent up two fourteen-year-olds who barely knew what was going on. But, it’s still me and District 3 tied for smallest.

Finally, everything was brought back to District 1… and it was so much worse than I thought.

“They’re really sending up a twelve-year-old?”

“So sad, really, but what can you do, these things happen.”

“Oh, oh, oh, did you hear! He’s a Swift!”

“No way, like, the Aren Swift? I heard one of his sons was going up this year.”

“Just not the one everyone was looking for.”

“Aww, but look how cute he is, he’s swearing. It’s always so adorable when little kids try to sound grown up.”

My face was burning red, visible even through the makeup, and I knew Amazonia didn’t miss it. The look on Lamar’s face cemented it. I had no shot of getting help from him.

When I was led back to my bed, I was forced to look, objectively, at my circumstance. I was outmatched, outclassed in every possible way, I had no mentor, no chance of sponsors,

Amazonia would be gunning for me for bragging rights back home, I have zero survival skills that would actually apply to the games, and absolutely no one is rooting for me back home, except a brother who will get a beating if he says it.

I have this big rallying speech somewhere in my head, that it doesn’t matter everything is against me, an underdog chant, that I’ll win anyway, I’ll show karma who’s really a bitch. But it felt hollow, it felt fake even to me.

This is my time to cry. This is all I’ll have time for, because I won’t have much of it left. Whether that be through death or trauma.

So, I let it go. This was it, my chance to let go of years of pent-up hatred, guilt, you fucking name it. Towards what, I don’t know. For being small, for being temperamental, for never being good enough, for always knowing how I treated people was wrong but just never being able to stop my mouth before it moved. I didn’t know what the tears were for, pity for myself, anger at the world, maybe a bit of both. They were hot on my face, felt like someone cut open my eyes and let the blood drip down, thick and heavy down my cheeks, leaving wells in their wake. The water dripped onto the cloth, making it stick to my skin, and I could feel it, feel it cling to me, like it was trying to attack me, like everyone else.

Even if I survive this, I’m dead. There is no going home. There is no home anymore. Illias will never forgive me for taking what he worked his whole life for, Bravon never liked me to begin with, dad, I never told dad I loved him, that I cared, because he was just always there and the thought never crossed my mind that one day he just won’t. And Satin, if he’s smart, he’ll stay as far away from me if he can. I was alone before, I thought I was, but this is a new sort of alone. The last one was self-imposed, this is permanent.

And it’s all my fault. This is all my fault. As I slept, as I dreamed, I knew that one word would forever be burned into my bone marrow.

Karma.

#Hunger Games #Hunger games fanfic #Hunger games fanfiction #Eliot Swift #Amazonia Rhodes #The Alchemist Tributes

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thejesusreport · 6 years

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Feminism has Missed the Mark (but most women go to The Heavenly Kingdom anyway!)

Feminism has come about, I assert, because men have not treated women with love and have committed terrible atrocities against their wives, girlfriends and co-workers. The problem is that feminism has not resulted in men becoming (or, arguably, returning to the status of) gentlemen. Instead, men have become cowed and intimidated by women and the accusations against them (MeToo, etc.) which they cannot deny nor seem to be able to repent of, becoming “P.W.F.”s (sorry for the vernacular, but it get the point across, Pussy Whipped F****ts, i.e. wimps). To put in other terms John Wayne is dead, if he ever existed in reality. (Note Rock Hudson’s passing) But my research has shown that real women do not actually like a wimpy guy, but want a strong, confident, respectful, and loving gentleman. Jesus is here to give you just that, but first some unfinished business. Up until the mid 19th century, women were considered the property of their husbands and could neither vote, nor own property except in the name of their husband. Even if you are a nostalgic conservative who wanted to return to the “good-old days” we have to realize that men had it pretty good and instead of caring for their property, abused and mistreated it. Even after they were given basic rights, women were killed, tortured, forced to have abortions, disposed of in mental institutions or physical, sexually or emotionally abused, for showing the slightest individuality or creativity. Obviously, men’s behavior was an abomination and has led to our current state of women’s (and children’s) rights, where lawmakers and courts have given women more and more rights, priveleges and power and men’s rights have been more and more marginalized. Some of these rights and powers appropriated by women are legitimate, while some amount to unfair(?), though understandable, emasculation of men. However, this writer is having trouble shedding a tear for the “beastly” men who have done so much damage to women, children, themselves and the planet which we all inhabit. If women were in charge, would there be very many wars, sex abuse, murders and shootings and would we have half as much pollution and ecological degradation? I assert a firm NO! Most women are more honest, kinder, more compassionate, more thoughtful and of a subtle, yet strong character which is lacking in the dishonest, egotistical males who only want to puff themselves up and selfishly pursue money, status, power and the hedonistic pleasure they derive from these ungodly pursuits. (The “almighty dollar”, “King of the golf club”, etc.) Men should have learned by now that money and materialism are an illusion. Love is the only true force in the world and has defeated men (and those arrogant women who refuse to accept their loving nature). Women, two wrongs don’t make a right. Men were wrong, don’t emulate their egotistical love of arrogance, violence, dishonesty, money and materialism. Women have increasingly become like men, including in all the “bad” things as well as the power, money and status. The following passage was written many years ago in the late 1950s, with the historical quote attributed to the days of the Roman Empire during the years of Christ’s first earthly ministry. This was attributed to a Roman tribune, a significant military leader in the Empire: “You do not know the Roman women! They have lost all womanliness. They engage in business! They have become fraudulent and dissolute men. They move about Rome in their gilded litters, as unaccompanied, and can quote you the latest stock prices with the facility of bankers! Many prefer not to marry, but they have many lovers. To such degeneracy has Rome fallen. I will not filthy my mouth with the list of their abominable practices." (Taylor Caldwell in “Dear and Glorious Physician", p. 161., a book about Gospel author St. Luke) Sounds strangely like a description of women in the early 21st century A.D.! I personally adore petite, feminine, docile women, though I do like a feisty gal now and then. But arrogance was never appropriate in men and it certainly is not a Godly attribute in women today. Why is it so bad to be the assistant to men, according to Genesis, rather than the “Queen Bee” (see below)? We know why. But have no fear, men are being judged and although Jesus will rule with a rod of iron, the rest of the duds, less a few virgin eunuchs and stewardly apostles/martyrs/prophets, will be vacationing warmly in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone. Like I’ve written previously, there is also a strong element of hypocrisy in feminism’s attacks and judgement on men. While sexual harassment is a problem and men have treated women poorly, how can women sanctimoniously attack and judge men for leering at or minor touching when women champion the “right” to kill their unborn children. However, it is lucky for women that God will not punish them for the sins of abortion but will lay this guilt at the feet of the men who for many years were stronger and in the leadership position in society. Rather than be loving husbands and boyfriends, they became lying, arrogant, egotistical bad boys inflicting harm on women. Judgement on men will be harsh and swift. Women who have become cynical and arrogant themselves and who have conspired with these evil men will be judged “and burned with fire for strong is the Lord who judges her,” but will not have the horror of hell (how about a form of purgatory?). (See Revelation 18:7-8: “How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow. How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow. Therefore shall her plagues come in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire: for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her.”) My goal is to spread the Word of the upcoming Second Coming and the need for all women described above to repent. Young virgins are exempt but would be wise to avoid spoiling your advantage. Remember, heaven or not is your choice and the Heavenly Kingdom is so wonderful, NO MACHO BEASTS (except for Jesus Himself, lol), no pain, sadness, tears, and only love. I tell only the truth and many there be who will not believe me, but I assert it regardless. Be ready because He comes like a thief in the night! If you believe you are a Christian, you must believe me as my interpretation comes directly from the Holy Spirit and Holy Scriptures.

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