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#yes this is about reading the bible what of it
deep-space-lines · 25 days
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okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.
yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything
((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))
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and then they fucked nasty the end
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friendrat · 6 days
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The problem with the church today is that so many "Christians" do not actually believe in redemption.
#unironically christian#i say this because of all the people who make comments about people's testimony#like saying they don't believe that only fans girl who was saved and baptized was really saved#like... reading through the comments it becomes clear that the “Christians” don't actually accept her#like... my brother in Christ... your good deeds are as worthy as my used pad#that is straight up in the bible#you are not better than her and you do not deserve redemption more than her#her salvation is between her and God#and yes... you say that time will reveal her fruit and you are correct#but guess what#ananias was called to extend a hand to paul *before* his fruit showed#and he was a frigging serial killer who was out for ananias's blood the week before#you do not get to pick and choose which converts you get to except#you are not God and thank heavens for it because if you were we would all be doomed#*deep breath*#i am just so sick of this... farse... that Christianity has become#Christians need a wake up call#oh! and and when you act like its impossible to accept that she could be saved you belittle God's power#you call into question Jesus's blood and it's ability to cleanse and if that is false your salvation is worthless!#also also you go against the things clearly written in the Bible while wearing the title of Christian#which means you are misrepresenting God's nature and intentions which means you are breaking the command to not take the lord's name in vain#wow... i thought i was done at the deep breath... guess not😅#rat rants
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raspberryzingaaa · 9 months
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Thinking about going to World Most Boring Bible Study Ever. Idk yall. Idk. Idek.
#the number of times i have faked a call yo leave early. the number of times ive played solitaire on my phone. i got to the potty to kill tim#like! just answer questions its not that hard!!!!!!#you dont even need to be right just throw some spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks!#also group leaders stop reading questions from a script from your phone#ALSO PLEASE CAN WE STOP GOING THROUGH THE SAME VERSES WE GO THROUVH ON SUNDAYS#this is why we have a split in our life group/church crowdm just sayin#i just. i just miss doing bible studys with people who were way smarter than me#being a church kid in a college church is just 👁👄👁#i shpuldnt be dreading going to bible study!!!!!!#so its probably a me problem right?!#and also the group leaders have had to tell me to stfu more than once (politely. which was really annoying. dont pussyfoot around!!)#also our only bible study is also our ~only space for new comers~ so i get in trouble if i get too meaty in my excitements and theology#EHICH SHOJLDNT BE MY FAULT!!!!!!!#and YEAH it IS my fault that its my only spot where im spiritually feeding. but also there is a secret eomens group people mention that..#i guess im just excluded from? but also i know most of the women dont like me bc I have interminable Doesnt Shut Up Disease l#like i understand fhat yes it is a little my fault rhat me talking about deep theology makes them feel inadequate but also THAT SHOULDNT BE#guh. i also forgot my meds today so im a little bit more mulish and hard hearted#and i KNOW its a teachable moment amd God is usimg this to temper me or something else but im feelimg grumblr#and ill probably delete this later.#and i have to got to work ok bye
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"Scripture is sufficient."
Hm. Yup. No one said it wasn't.
"That's why I don't watch X media based on the Bible."
So, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you also don't sing any hymns in your church's worship service then, huh? Because, ya know, the Bible has an entire book of songs already, so you don't need any others.
But I'd bet money that's not the case at all. Because we use media other than the Bible to supplement our worship all the time. From visual aids in Sunday School classes down to the décor, they are things we add. And it doesn't make any of them inherently wrong.
Look. I don't care if you, personally, don't like something or not. That's not what this is about. What I have a problem with is you tacking on a "holier than thou" sentiment to a subjective opinion. "Scripture is sufficient." Yes. It is. "I don't like this piece of media because it adds bits" (that don't contradict Scripture). Personal Preference.
And you are allowed to have personal preferences. But you don't need to justify them or belittle other believers in order to say, "I'm not a fan."
So all I can say is this: if you're going to toss out visual media because "scripture is sufficient" then you'd better be prepared to throw out your hymnals, too.
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fleshes-and-ends · 1 year
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the locked tomb has honestly done more for my relationship with catholicism than 15 years of catholic education ever did
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my mom’s been reading a book lately that has a lot to do with mental illness, and she was telling me about it this afternoon and about how the author is urging people and especially Christians to understand the difference between spiritual counseling and mental health counseling and to seek the appropriate help in specific circumstances they may be facing—
which of course prompted me to go on a whole spiel about my opinion that the mind body and soul are all parts of one cohesive whole and should be treated as such and how much it rubs me the wrong way when I hear people start saying things like ‘well xyz is a sin problem and should be dealt with by praying and reading your Bible more’ when REALLY sin itself is also a multi-faceted concept that encompasses ALL areas of that mind-body-soul union and different remedies must be sought for sins effecting different areas of one’s life and person
#anxiety is a sin! and so is self-harm! and so is murder!#and yet all of these sins have different consequences and different ways they must be addressed and dealt with#completely different ways the person struggling with said sin should attempt to seek healing and restoration#because ultimate that’s what any sin is—a brokenness or skewedness or not-right-ness about ourselves and the world around us#you don’t#broken bones and the most basic of physical ailments are also products of sin; consequences of the original fall and introduction of pain#anyway this is not worded especially well because I am tired and still feeling not-entirely-well and my energy is largely depleted already#but this is one of my personal Soapboxes that I occasionally climb upon and holler around the house about#and I feel like some of the knitting circle people would feel the same way I do about this subject#so here is a badly-written post that y’all can feel free to add to if anyone wants :)#mobile#gurt says stuff#mental health#health#spiritual health#christianity#faith#edit: adding on here that praying and reading one’s Bible and genuinely earnestly seeking God’s face more is always important#and I didn’t meant to minimize it in my original post#yes of course we should all do those things more. especially if we’re in the midst of any sort of trial or temptation.#I just don’t like people offering it as the only possible solution when there are other ways that I believe God has given us#to help ourselves and others be well
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wordsinhaled · 8 months
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i’m so totally normal about the fact that aziraphale’s last (known) deliberate foray into the queer community was when he learned the gavotte at the fictionalized hundred guineas club (!!!) in the 1800s and now in the 2020s he’s like “grindr? what’s that?”
many are talking about his repression which is very valid… and yet the thing to me that stands out about aziraphale is that he’s actually… incredibly stable in his identity and that identity IS incredibly queer. queer by the standards of heaven AND by human standards as well
metatron describes his “de facto partnership” with crowley as “irregular.” and in fact aziraphale in his entirety is irregular. he likes and makes it his business not only to understand but to be a connoisseur of all manner of things angels aren’t supposed to even remotely care about. food. music. books. theatre. sleight of hand. and more.
it’s the sort of behavior that would’ve gotten him othered, treated as a bit odd, in heaven even if he hadn’t chosen to consort all across the earth with a literal demon. and it IS treated that way - the fact is aziraphale even as an angel has got proclivities that set him apart from the rest of the host (even after offering him the highest position in heaven, metatron still acts deeply dismissive of him… like aziraphale’s bookshop is merely a quaint little hobby of his that can be easily transferred to another custodian, and not a literal extension of who aziraphale has become, full of his tartan and unique bibles and special vintages of wine and the books arranged in a very specific way)
so. aziraphale is a queer angel but of course he’s also queer to other humans. but in such a way that… he had his realization a LONG time ago, and put the matter very much to rest after that. aziraphale is perpetually something like several centuries behind schedule. he owns an ancient computer that probably continues to run windows 98 simply because aziraphale’s decided it should. he wears the same waistcoat and coat for generations because he simply likes them precisely the way they are and sees no reason to change them. but the idea that he doesn’t know how he comes across to others - of course he does. he knows he looks like your prim and proper grandfather and he prefers it that way
aziraphale looked around at humans in the 1880s and said: ah yes. this is where i fit. and promptly ensconced himself in that queer subculture. learned the gavotte. read his austen. loved crowley from afar. aziraphale is fiercely and vibrantly queer. just with the sort of assurance of someone who lives with his lover in a commonlaw marriage for decades and then shows up at city hall for the certificate once society decides it’s ‘allowed.’ like… he hasn’t had any need to know what grindr is because aziraphale’s ‘scene’ was a century and a half ago and it defined romance for him too.
but my favorite thing about aziraphale is how much of him is about appearances versus the truth. he can lie straight to angels’ faces and sleep at night. he knows he comes off soft but he once wielded a flaming sword. he dissembles helplessness but he’s far from it and he knows precisely how it makes others treat him. and at the core of aziraphale is rigidity, inflexibility of ideas… his sense of self is stable where crowley’s is malleable, and so on, and so on
and the fact that he’s continuously fixated on trying to misguidedly do the right thing, the fact that he seeks heavenly approval and wants to fit the world into his schema of good vs evil… in no way do i think that means he isn’t one hundred percent aware of how he feels about crowley or what it means about him by angelic or human standards. i’ve seen some folks saying that aziraphale doesn’t want to like kissing crowley and like… as much as i love me some brideshead revisited/atonement flavored angst; i put forth that it’s not internalized homophobia or queer panic but simply: “i’m trying to do the right thing for both of us and you won’t let me.” and “i wanted our first kiss to be different.” he was envisioning an entirely different flavor of romance than what he got but he emma woodhoused too close to the sun
like, y’all. aziraphale in all likelihood has a glorious collection of historical queer erotica. he just has a feathery diva coat hanging in his closet, and for what. “oh, good lord” he says at crowley’s revolutionary outfit in the bastille, while eyeing him up like an entire meal. he’s so good at affected propriety, at carefully constructed stuffiness, but between the two of them aziraphale’s got to be the one who has experience
aziraphale had been physically throwing himself at crowley the entire season. he orchestrated an entire regency ball so they could touch hand to hand. he spends the entire season (well, and season 1) looking at crowley like he’s particularly coveted. he looked at crowley before the fall like he was glorious and beautiful. aziraphale’s queer and he knows it and i think that isn’t his problem, it’s the fact that he wants to build a different sort of future for the two of them but crowley’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by reminding him of everything he can finally have. like. that’s the heartbreak. it’s how dare you make this ugly? i forgive you for our first kiss being all pain and salt. it’s my dearest, i wanted to make heaven as beautiful as you deserve. as sacred and safe for us as our bookshop. and i can do that for us, because once i held a flaming sword and i still remember how the hilt felt in my hands. and now the taste of you is in my mouth.
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How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars
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This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.
On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.
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In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":
https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/
Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.
But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.
The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.
So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.
Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.
I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.
So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.
I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.
I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:
https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james
Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:
https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence
LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:
https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language
But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.
The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."
Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.
Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."
Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":
https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit
LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.
Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.
What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.
We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.
Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.
Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.
As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."
Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers
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Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
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bettysupremacy · 2 months
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hi love ! could you write a fluff!rafe where the reader is a workaholic and ends up getting a cold and rafe takes care of her? 💌🍄
my boyfriend!!!!!!!
“I need to go in today.”
You gaze at Rafe, who returns your stare. It feels futile, yet you persist. You try to sit up, pulling the covers off your legs, but retreat under them when the overhead fan reaches. A dull ache permeates your body. The cold seeps into you, but the blanket is suffocating. Your body feels warm, but the air is biting.
You concede. “Nevermind.”
“Yeah.” Rafe moves to help you gently, he’s fixing the blanket.
“It’s fine.”
“Seriously,” Rafe warns suddenly. “I’m gonna make you cut your shifts down.”
“But-“
“No, this is a ‘I want to pass the time’ job, and you’re treating it like you’re employee of the month.” He’s annoyed, with you surely. “Shit, are you employee of the month?”
You frown, ignoring his question. He’s right. Though, he usually is. He already provides for you through the big money of the company his father passed down, you just don’t wanna be bored. You don’t want to contribute nothing, and you’re treating it like there’s rent to pay and mouths to feed. Well, there is, but not in the demand you
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he huffs. “I just can’t stand seeing you like this.”
“I know.”
He helps you sit, moving the pillows behind you. Your chest feels fuzzy and so do your eyes. Dully, your nausea makes you cough.
“I’m nauseous.” You tell him.
“Jeez.” He murmurs, his eyes round and concerned. “You want zofran?”
“Yes.” You whisper.
Tears pool in your eyes as he sits up, collecting at your eyelashes as you try to blink them away. You bring your hand to swipe at them, sniffling. Rafe’s brain lags.
“What?” He asks, kneeling down again, hands in desperate search of your face. “Baby, what?”
“I’m embarrassed.” You cry.
“Why?” His rough hands swipe at your tears gently. “Everyone gets sick.”
You turn away from him,
“If this is about me being upset earlier, I swear it wasn’t at you.” He stresses. “I-I had a bad day, and seeing you’ve succumbed to illness makes me sad.”
You giggle wetly. “Succumbed to illness.”
He beams proudly. “I knew that would get a laugh.”
You smile up at him, fever working through your veins slowly. You shake again miserably, working yourself up into a fit of fat tears. They roll down the hills of your cheek heavily, pooling under your chin. You blink out three at once and Rafe nearly has a conniption. Why are you crying?
“It’s not.”
He works his hand over your hair, gently, but not cautiously. “Then what?” He pleads. “Help me understand.”
“I just love you.”
“You’re crying because you love me?”
“I don’t feel good.” You correct.
“You don’t feel good?”
“And I love you,” You admit. “but you’re here,” You moan. “seeing me like this, and you’re so pretty.”
He laughs, quickly recovering to a sympathetic face when you frown at him.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He soothes, lips near your ear. “Sometimes I look at you and I want to cry.”
“But you never do.” You wallow.
“Have you ever seen me cry?”
“Once.”
“Forget that.” He grimaces. “The point is, you’re stressed and sick.”
“I don’t see the point.” You murmur.
“You’re vulnerable right now, to your.. feelings. If I were sick, and stressed, and I saw you, I think I might cry too.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“Did the people cry when the angels came down in the Bible?”
“Did the angels.. come down?” You ask. “I’ve never read it.”
“I’m not sure.”
You laugh. “Maybe we should ask Scar.”
“Scar?”
“She’s smart.”
“I think she’s Jewish.”
“So?”
“Different book, my love.”
“Duh, I’m not that sick.” You laugh. It drips with sticky sticky cough syrup. “But still, she’s smart, maybe she’ll know.”
Rafe sighs lovingly. “Maybe. We got off track.”
“We always do.”
Rafe snorts. “You’re feeling better.”
“Get on track.”
“I don’t remember the point I was making with angels.”
You laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. “You’re useless.”
“Abominable girl.” He chastises, sitting up anyways.
“Go get me medicine.” You’re smiling. “Useless, useless doctor.”
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nottheleastbrave · 2 years
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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months
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Hello!! I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do Alastor with a S/O who used to be a demon slayer? Feel free to delete this request! Have a great day/night!
Hehe. Interesting! Alastor be like; “of course demons exist. Why did you even kill them” but anyway! I actually really like this idea, thank you!
Alastor- All the More Demons
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Alastor just laughs at you when you explain yourself to the Staff… or more specifically to Charlie. You? Hunting entities called demons. A demon slayer? What drugs did you take when you died?
Alastor, at first, didn’t believe you one bit and even ridiculed you, calling your past life as a Demon Slayer in the Tashio Era of Japan some silly fantasy that you read. Demons exist, yes, but only in Hell. There is no such things as the demons you described
Of course, you’re quite distant and uninterested in Alastor as an exchange, for the way he mocked your life as a Demon Slayer. He was alive during the 1910s-1920s and he never once heard about demons
Overtime of the overtime, Alastor decides to soften up and not bully you so hard about this life you openly detailed to Charlie(who was literally the only one who believed you) . You actually seem like a wonderful and kind person, your swordsman skills are incredible, you’re quite fast, flexible and agile for a ordinary sinner and you use something called a… Breathing Style. He’s curious how this works
And when he finds out it’s an ancient Japanese swordsman battle technique, he is surprised you’re NOT an Overlord with how strong the Nichirin Katana and your Breathing Style is. You could outspeed many of the Overlords he knows, Alastor is curious why you haven’t tried to become like him
It’s a long, slow, burning process but Alastor grows to completely believe you thought demonic monstrous human-devouring entities called ‘demons’ in an older era of Japan. Your mannerisms, your clothing, your weapons of choice and even your appearance all scream a Japanese person and scream a Japanese person from a time as old as his
Alastor finds you speaking Japanese so fluently gorgeous. In Japanese, you could recite the Bible and he’d be listening with all of his attention. It’s just a beautiful, hypnotising language he is in love with… possibly as much as he is in love with you
You had managed to put Alastor into a Demon Slayer Uniform once and you won’t deny, he looks like a really good Demon Slayer
Alastor tries to encourage you to teach other sinners to be a Demon Slayer or better yet, a Hashira like yourself. To be incredible with a sword and so fast, it looks like you can teleport. However, you insist the art of this sword isn’t that easy to spread around so he decides to drop it
Alastor is always impressed by your skills. You don’t need actual souls to beat down your enemies, you have raw skills. Skills of a refined samurai and it’s so incredible. He is like a big old fanboy anytime he watches you fight
Alastor has never worn a kimono before and when he tries on one with you, he has you put on a New Orleans old-fashioned outfit. You two admire each other in one another’s fashion styles. Nowadays, you both swap outfits for fun and it looks great
Alastor gets to hold your katana once and he’s already cutting apart everything around him. You just ask him to stick to his own magic, you felt like you were handling a child with a knife when seeing your boyfriend/husband handle your Nichirin Katana
Alastor is doing his best to catch you off your guard but it feels like you never drop your guard, your senses are refined and you always respond whenever Alastor attempts to wrap his arms around your waist when you’re not looking at him. He is determined to get you… one day
Alastor loves your Tashio Era Japanese dishes. He is a big foodie and he loves the foods you make with him. It’s so fascinating, what else do you have to surprise him with? He always ponders this question
Alastor doesn’t believe you’re weak at all and in-fact, he’ll let you fight on your own. Only when you’re struggling, will he ever jump in. He believes in your skills and your battle experience so much that his protectiveness is controllable. He feels much more pride for you than anything when you’re cutting exterminators apart effortlessly
Alastor is always the same as he is with his partners; doting, loving, teasing, playful, cuddly, protective but with a ex-Hashira partner. He respects you even more, your history and your abilities are not a display that you’re a damsel. No, it’s a display that you’re the fighter. That doesn’t mean he won’t want to play your protector, put you to bed when you’re honing your skills until the early morning ‘sun’ rises up, take care of you
“My dearest, please. Let’s put the katana down and let’s go to bed. You’ve been training for over ten hours, you deserve a rest and I’ll be right there to accompany you”
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Name me a Reason
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader f.t Soap
Code named ‘Salem’ by your teammates, you found yourself in a rather difficult situation with Ghost and Soap. Somehow you had to find a building, regroup with the guys and find a safe house. Easy, right? No because you get shot.
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“Salem.” Soap whispered into the radio. You held the button for the radio, eyes wide in fear he was in trouble. None of you knew where the other was, not even Ghosts direction skills could lead either of you to him. There were people everywhere, civilians or what not, soldiers carrying guns, and you had to avoid everyone. You gave him the go ahead to speak, pausing all of your movements to look for any sign of Soap running away from gunfire. “You know your name means ‘peace’ in the Bible?”
You signed, returning your eye back into the scopes glass to look for any sign of Ghosts location nearby.
“Since when does Johnny read the Bible?” Ghosts low voice came through the radio next just as you stood up, grabbed your gun and started running from rooftop to rooftop trying to get closer to the centre land. “Thought you out of everyone wouldn’t believe in shit like that.”
“I don’t. My midder had me go church ever’ Sunday.”
“Huh. I thought Salem meant undamaged in Islam-” Ghost started.
“I’m going to damage both of you if you don’t shut up…and it means none of those.”
You scanned your surroundings as you finally made it on ground, a small hope of the right direction only motivating you to push more, even though you had a bullet stuck in your shoulder and your left arm was basically useless.
You pressed the radio button again, your back pressed up against a wall as you looked around for any targets. When you saw none, you swiftly moved forwards through empty alleyways. You figured if you were going to get made, you’d do it when there was a group of Tangos. So, you needed to stay quiet.
“If we’re talking about names let’s talk about Soap.”
You heard him audibly groan followed by a hum from Ghost. You’d bet Simon already knew since their very clear ‘bromance’ was strong, but wanted him to say it again. When Johnny didn’t answer, Ghost spoke up.
“He can clean houses quickly.”
“What?”
“Expert speed and accuracy he told me.”
Soap groaned and quickly shut down the conversation, a new welcomed silence falling between you three. The building Ghost was in was one with a green door apparently, and you saw one just as such quite close to you. You made sure it was the right one before heading that way, leaving Soap to argue with the two of you that he wasn’t even close to that direction.
You don’t really know what happened next, but when the pain in your shoulder increased dramatically it took you by surprise. You fell to the floor and found cover behind a car, quickly reloading your gun before pointing it in the direction you were being shot at. As if one bullet wasn’t enough, now you had 3, and what sucked is you didn’t know if it was a clean shot. Taking three bullets out would fucking hurt.
You rolled underneath the car, your stomach flat in the ground as you pointed your gun at the targets legs. It wouldn’t kill them but it would disadvantage them, which was good enough for now. It took a bit but eventually you got the upper hand, only being left with two more Tangos.
There was conversation in the radio that you didn’t care pay attention to until your last target was dead. You were still under the car, now shooting down the last man. Checking around you to make sure you were safe before you decided to listen in.
“The mask…take it off.”
“Show my face?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Negative.”
“Are you ugly?”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Cocky bastard.” You whispered, knowing full well both he and soap heard you clearly. You grunted as you crawled from under the car, dusting yourself off before quickly rushing towards your designated building.
“Y/N? Can you confirm?” Soaps smirk could be heard even from the other side of town. You were trying not to get shot, while they talking about how hot Simon was.
There was a long pause and you took a deep breath in, eventually reaching up to press the radio button on your chest. You didn’t wanna over boost his ego, but who were you to lie when you knew damn well about Simons gorgeous face.
“Affirmative.”
“Damn right.”
“No fair, she’s biased.” Soap sighed.
“Shut up and get to that house. Simon, I’m coming in don’t shoot.”
“Copy.”
You pushed open the door with your hand tightly gripping your shoulder, blood seeping between the crack of your fingers as if to mock your attempt to stop the bleeding. You hadn’t radio’d in your injuries, which soon proved stupid.
“You’re bleeding?.” He was by your side at an instant, applying pressure with his own two hands and pushing yours away. To say that hurt was an understatement, but he led you to the nearest worn out chair and sat you on it. “How many?”
“Three. Did they go through?” You winced as he looked for any exit wounds, releasing your shoulder momentarily.
“Only two. We’ll have to get to the safe house first, there’s no meds here.” Ghost clicked the radio button; “Soap we need to move out, Salem’s shot.”
“Go. I’ll find the safe house. Send the location when you’re there. Signal should be better.”
It took you around an hour to find a car, drive to the supposed safe house and then even find the bloody building. Safe to say it was an hour you needed in order not to bleed out. Simon managed to patch it up enough but it was a temporary fix, and so the blood slowly started escaping the cracks of your fingers again.
You felt quite drowsy, head spinning as you tried to blink the white cloud in your eyes away. You’d lost so much blood and there was a bullet still lodged in your body, that itself was going to be a hard procedure.
Simon laid you on the floor, quickly getting to patching you up better. He talked and talked trying to get you to stay awake, but eventually everything did go black and your body went limp.
The lightheadedness turned to heavyheaded the second you woke up. Eyelids so heavy, the light just too bright, your left arm and shoulder bruised. Groaning, you reached up to hold you head, the annoying pounding carried on the more you moved. With that, you tried to slowly sit up, breathing uneven as your body was put under pressure.
“Don’t do that, your shoulders just been fixed.” His voice was too rough for your liking, the pounding only getting worse in your temples. Still, you listened to his orders and laid back down with a huff. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore.” You now managed to open your eyes enough to see him, his heavy duty gear on the floor while he kept his gun close. Your blood covered the sleeves of his shirt, but his hands were clean as if he hadn’t been digging into someone’s body looking for bullets.
There was a silence that followed, not a pleasant one at that. You could tell he wanted to say something just by the way he sat on the couch you were laid out on, but he didn’t. Soap wasn’t anywhere near either, and you didn’t have to look around to know that since he doesn’t shut up.
“Where’s Soa-”
“What we’re you thinking?”
“What?”
“Have you not been through basic training, (Y/N)?” He only now looked at you, turning his head sideways to make eye contact. His mask was still on, something you were expecting to see as you were in an unfamiliar place. “You call in injuries for fuck sake. I was right outside.”
“No. The first one I could handle but they ambushed me, there wasn’t even time for me to process it, Simon. I was so close to where you were there was no point. They were dead before I even noticed I got shot.”
He scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up walking wherever there was space.
“I could of helped. That’s the whole point of a team!”
“Did you not listen to a thing I just said?” You say up straight, swinging your legs off the edge of the couch so they could rest on the floor. “There was no time! I would of if it mattered. I was right outside the goddamn door-”
“Why didn’t you call it in the first time then?!”
You had no excuse for that to be honest, you just thought you could handle it and there was no point worrying the guys. You wouldn’t tell him that though, he’d try and contradict you.
“Stop screaming, my head hurts.” You looked down, your good arms scratching at your side as you tried to think of something to say.
“I just sat there for 2 hours trying to save your life. I wouldn’t of needed to if you would of just followed protocol.”
“Sorry I inconvenienced you. Next time just leave me to die.” You didn’t mean that obviously, in fact you didn’t even expect that to come out your mouth nor did he apparently because he paused for a second, staring at you.
“The whole point of this is for you to live. I cannot fucking lose you, (Y/N).” His voice was low but just above a whisper. He was vulnerable, something so rare you barely saw in him. But the second your head shot up at his comment his eyes went dark again. “And I’d appreciate it if you make that a little easier.”
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, looking down in whatever you were feeling right now. You didn’t know if it was shame or embarrassment, or even maybe hurt. He meant the world to you too, and if the roles were switched you’d have reacted the same. “You’re right I should of called it in.”
You looked up at him from your seat, both of you staring at each other silently before he moved to sit beside you. Your head fell onto his shoulder almost immediately, eyes closing as his scent, with a tinge of blood, filled your nose.
“Don’t do that again.”
You nodded against his shoulder, cuddling as close to him as your body would go. Now the silence was bearable, a comfortable blanket of safety until he spoke up again.
“What does Salem mean, then?”
You shrugged; “Nothing, I thought it sounded cool to be honest.”
His shoulders vibrates in a chuckle. You both knew Soap wouldn’t believe you, but it was what it was.
“Rest for a bit. Soap will be here soon and air-evac tomorrow. The rain is too heavy for it to come now.”
You body was in a state of exhaustion already, so it took mere minutes for you to doze off again. Ghost just sat there, listening to you breathe silently and waited for Johnny to return. You took a mental note to apologise to Soap for leaving him alone because of your stupidity. But that was later, because righty now you just wanted to sleep, and where would you feel safer other than Simons arms?
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THE END
THE SUCKS MY BAD BUT THIS MAN >>
He is bbygrl
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queerfables · 6 months
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Alright GO fans, let's talk Sodom and Gomorrah. This biblical story comes up a few times in Good Omens canon, a kind of offhand mention each time, and the most interesting part to me is the implication that Aziraphale was there.
If you only know the cliff-notes version, you've probably heard it as the story of God condemning homosexuality to the point of wiping out several cities over it. Maybe you've heard this too, but - that's not exactly what happened. Look, I'm an atheist, I have no dog in this race. If I thought it was about smiting people for homosexuality, I'd be happy to call God a wanker and move on. But I've read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (You can too! It's very short!) and I've read other parts of the Bible that reference it, and I think a much more straightforward interpretation is that it's about offering hospitality and protection to strangers. It's also about the consequences of wanton cruelty, and God laying waste to those deemed beyond salvation.
In Good Omens, the book, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Sodom and Gomorrah this way:
"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly.
"Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?"
"Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-"
"I meant afterwards."
"Oh."
According to the book, then, Aziraphale at least saw the city after it was destroyed. Maybe Crowley saw the aftermath too or maybe he just heard about it. They both understand it as horrific.
The show is more direct, and suggests that Aziraphale was there during the actual destruction. Gabriel asks if Aziraphale remembers Sandalphon. Aziraphale does.
"Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. Hard to forget."
Aziraphale regards Sandalphon warily during the conversation. I believe we're supposed to interpret this scene based on the popular understanding of Sodom and Gomorrah as cities that God wiped out because of the inhabitants' sins. The obvious implication, then, is that Sandalphon is the heavy, the one called in to deal with disobedience. He's trigger-happy, relishes violence, and Aziraphale has seen what he's capable of. From the careful way Aziraphale discusses their prior acquaintance, I think he feels the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tragedy and believes Heaven's actions were disproportionate and unjust.
I'm confident this is how we're supposed to read the scene. In the context of the story, we're supposed to understand that Aziraphale doesn't approve of the smiting, and that he feels threatened by Gabriel and Sandalphon coming into his bookshop and pressing him about Armageddon. But I'm fascinated by what it would mean if Aziraphale and Sandalphon's history really tracks onto the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because if Good Omens' version of Sodom and Gomorrah is at all biblically accurate, and if Aziraphale was there... it's kind of mind-blowing, actually, that he still feels so much compassion for the people who died and still thinks Sandalphon was wrong.
I'm going to explain why, but fair warning, it gets ugly. I promise nobody is actually raped, and I think that promise in itself says plenty.
According to the Bible, Sodom and its surrounding cities are accused of being overrun with sin. God sends two angels to Sodom to verify this, intending to destroy everything if they find it to be true. In the world of Good Omens, I think one of these angels must be Aziraphale. The other one is likely Sandalphon, but in the Bible it's God rather than either of the angels who rains down burning sulfur on the cities so it's possible it's someone else, and Sandalphon is only on smiting duty. Without anything else to go on, though, let's assume it's Sandalphon.
So our two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and at the gate to the city, they meet Lot. Lot is an immigrant who has made his home in Sodom, and I think the implication is that this is why he's not completely steeped in sin like everyone else. In any case, he immediately offers to put the angels up for the night, and although they'd planned to stay in the square, Lot is really insistent. He is a good host! Also, he knows the city is dangerous. So the angels go to his house and he makes dinner for them, and then before they can go to bed, a mob shows up at the door.
See, the men of Sodom have heard about the strangers staying with Lot. They surround his house and demand he hand them over. The New King James Version puts it this way: And they called to Lot and said to him, "Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally." Several other translations say that the men wanted to "have sex with them". But I mean. It's a fucking mob. They've surrounded the house. We all get what this is, right?
So Lot goes out to meet the men, and he says "Don't do this terrible thing." Off to a good start! Then he says, "Tell you what, I have two virgin daughters. Do what you like to them and we'll say no more about it." Oh boy. Dad of the year award, right there. But still, he insists, "The angels are under my roof and my protection."
The men outside Lot's house are pissed. They say, "You're an outsider, who are you to judge us?" They threaten to do worse to him than to the angels. They swarm him and almost break the door down, but the angels pull him back inside.
The angels then strike the mob with blindness to stop them getting into the house. They say to Lot, "Look, you gotta take your family and get out of here. God sent us to see how bad things were and, uh, long story short, we're burning it all to the ground. You get it, right?"
Maybe you know the rest. Lot's son-in-laws don't believe him and won't leave the city. Lot's wife looks back and turns into a pillar of salt. Lot and his daughters take shelter in a small town called Zoar, and from there flee to the mountains. Everything else is destroyed.
It is a tragedy. The plains are leveled down to ash, until there's nothing left that can even grow. Was there really no one innocent in those cities? No children or animals? (You can't kill kids). Still, I think about that awful night under Lot's roof and I don't think I could blame anyone for giving up on all of it.
So what if that's the story? There were two angels in Sodom before it fell. What if it really was Aziraphale and Sandalphon, trapped through the night in a stranger's house, surrounded by men who want to rape them. Whatever their power as angels, that has to be terrifying.
If it was Sandalphon there with Aziraphale that night in Sodom, I have to wonder what he was like. There isn't any kinship or understanding from Aziraphale. Despite knowing the circumstances better than anyone, he still sees Sandalphon as a threat. Given that, I think Sandalphon must have taken a truly disturbing kind of joy in raining down vengeful fire and brimstone, beyond what you might expect from someone who was afraid or angry. Maybe he was never afraid; maybe instead he revelled in the violence building through the night as the reason he needed to tear everything down. Maybe he was afraid in the terrible way that exposes the depths someone will sink to to protect themselves (maybe offering his daughters was never Lot's idea). Or maybe Aziraphale just tried to reach out to him afterwards, to offer understanding and ask for some in return, and Sandalphon shot him down so coldly and viciously that Aziraphale knew immediately this wasn't something he was allowed to have feelings about. Whatever happened that night, it left Aziraphale feeling more of an outsider from Heaven than ever.
But if it happened that way, it happened this way too: Aziraphale survives a night like that, and when he looks out into the breaking dawn, he thinks, these cities don't deserve to burn. He sees the good in a place that's just shown him its absolute worst. I think that says everything about him as a character, actually. Of course he won't give up on Heaven. Of course he'll fight tooth and nail for his home on Earth. Whatever the worst is, there are still things worth saving. There are still, always, people worth protecting.
On that note, before I wrap this up, I want to go back to Lot's words to the men of Sodom, and draw a parallel that makes me feel some kind of way. Because when Lot declares the angels under his protection, what he says is essentially, "Do not do anything to these men, for they have come under the shadow of my roof for protection." And all I can think about, reading these lines, is Aziraphale standing in his bookshop as it's surrounded by hostile demons, and telling the angel under the shadow of his roof, "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will."
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maxwell-grant · 5 months
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So is Worm good from what you have read
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"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.
It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)
Worm irreparably destroys your ability to engage with superhero fiction the same way ever again, as evidenced by the fact that it destroyed the author's own ability to engage with his own superhero fiction ever again. And everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).
And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.
Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.
It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.
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