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terresdebrumestories · 3 years

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FANDOM: The Old Guard (2020) SERIES: - RATING: General audiences WORDCOUNT: 4 776 words PAIRING(S): None CHARACTER(S): Nile Freeman (POV), Yusuf Al Kaysani, Andromache the Scythian, Niccolo di Genova (mentioned), Sébastien Le Livre (mentioned). GENRE: Mutual care, Nile Freeman character introspection. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I can think of :) SUMMARY: Nile misses her mother but doesn't know how to talk about it or with who. fortunately, Bâtard the emotional support tortoise is here to help. NOTE(S): This was originally written for Nile Week 2020 but never put online because of reasons, so now here it is, longer and better written than it was :D Hugest thanks to @avaniesque for the most excellent beta work :D [ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.]

Nile gasps when something soft bumps against her foot, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks as she turns towards the door. It looks empty at first, the cobwebs they didn’t bother dealing with earlier in the day gently swaying in the air. There’s some shuffling along the dusty floor, a light click of nails on stone, and then a small oblong head appears near the bottom. This is swiftly followed by short scaly legs and a black and brown shell wrapped in a crocheted lab coat. Nile tenses, unprepared for any sort of human company at the moment, but relaxes when it becomes apparent Booker has not elected to follow his pet around.

Said pet has now fully entered the living-room and is beelining for a strawberry resting against her right pinky toe. It looks good enough to eat, as does the rest of what Booker feeds it, which Nile still doesn’t really understand but who is she to tell Booker how to care for his pet? Bâtard, of course, is unconcerned by her surprise and eventually gets to chomping on the strawberry.

Nile’s eyes are dry by now, the tight press of sadness around her heart still present but past its peak, at least for now. It still takes her a couple of seconds to realize the small square of bright white on the side of Bâtard’s outfit is a piece of paper. She picks it up to find a few words from a hand that hasn’t yet lost the impeccable penmanship of its first life. Apparently it’s hard to let go of habits people beat into you with a stick. The note reads : “He’ll keep your secret as long as you keep paying. First one on me.” It makes Nile smile.

(Andy, Nicky and Joe are all just as capable of impeccable calligraphy, but when free not to pay attention to it they tend to revert to script letters. Booker is the only one who insists on torturing them all with permanent cursive written with fountain pens on special paper.)

She doesn’t know Booker all that well, yet. Seven years ago, he was the quiet grumpy member of the group who didn’t seem to care much whether Nile stayed or left. Then he was the one who made a pretty compelling case against Nile seeing her family again—revealing himself to have some unresolved issues in the process—and then he was the one whose issues exploded all over the rest of the group. Now he’s mostly the one who was brought back way too soon, who knows it, and tries to make himself as scarce as possible because of it.

Mostly, it means that while Nile is the one who’s exchanged the most words with him so far, it’s also pretty much been limited to the topic of...well. His tortoise. All in all, much less informative about the man compared to just watching him settle said tortoise up in every safehouse they use, no matter how temporary. (Nile would help, but she’s not entirely sure how the others would take it. It seems prudent not to.) Or looking at the cozies the tortoise parades around on a regular basis...or, as the case may be, discovering he’s taken the time to bedeck his precious reptile in a new outfit for the sole purpose of leaving it (uncharacteristically) unsupervised in Nile’s company just so she has someone to talk to.

“You’re not who I want to talk to either,” she says, because she’s under no illusion that her solitude today has been accidental. “I mean, I know they’re trying I just—”

Nile sighs, wiping at her face in a vain attempt to clear her head, but the gesture only brings fresh moisture to her eyes as she tries to swallow down her frustration. It feels almost silly, in the grand scheme of things, to be this upset over this, but, well... Hearts do what they want, and there’s nothing Nile can do about that, so eventually she looks down at Bâtard’s scaly little head and tells the tortoise:

“It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning sixty-five and I—”

Nile claps a hand on her mouth to stifle the sob wrenching itself out of her, but it feels piercing and loud in the quiet evening air nonetheless. She breathes around it for a bit, unwilling to attract company just yet, and reaches down to rub Bâtard’s head with her forefinger.

“I want to be with her,” she eventually confesses to the tortoise. “I want to be there and hug her, I—I miss my mom.”

Nile knows she can call. They’ve got burner phones, Copley’s skills to keep them hidden, and an uneasy truce with Quynh ensuring the biggest threat they’ve faced so far isn’t much of one for now. Three years ago she wouldn’t even have had that: her mother and brother both convinced she was dead and buried somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan. She believes with all of her heart that her mother and brother would never blame her for living when they can’t.

Her mother is starting the second half of her sixties, and she’s not there to see it. Her mother, who’s growing older and greying a little at the temples. Her mother, who deserves better than never knowing when they’ll see each other again, with little-to-no news in between visits. Her mother, who was there for her in every way she could and every way that counted, and for whom Nile wants to be there but can’t. Her mother, who will not be there forever.

(Sometimes, the thought hits Nile out of nowhere, and it takes an impossible effort not to drop everything right then and there to jump in the first flight to Chicago.)

“It’s just—” Nile pauses, trying to pick her words so she can really make Bâtard understand, as impossible as that is, and continues : “They’re great. All of them. They’re—even Booker’s not so bad. I mean, I’m kind of stuck in the middle of the family feud so that’s not the best feeling, but... They’ve gone above and beyond to help me feel welcome, they’ve taught me so many amazing things…. They’re just...not my mom.”

Bâtard, done with his strawberry, lifts his head to look at her, and Nile swears he even leans into her scratching, just a little. It’s a pleasant surprise and she finds herself smiling, not very bright but present nonetheless. It soothes something in her, too, not to be alone right now even though she’s not ready for human company. Both her mother and Jordan have allergies so they’ve never had pets before, and Nile never really longed for one either. Right now, though, she thinks she understands a little better what endears them to people.

“I’m...scared,” she admits, keeping her voice quiet like it’s going to make a difference. “I know I’m going to lose her one day, that’s inevitable, but I don’t want to find out about it months later because my brother couldn’t reach me...I don’t want to find out about his death from nephews and nieces who’ll barely know who I am, if they know I exist at all.” Nile sighs again, sobs crowding in her throat and tightening her voice as she admits: “I wish I hadn’t listened to Booker.”

That last admission is what breaks the dam, and all of a sudden Nile is sobbing again, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. There’s misery here, and anger too, maybe even more than there was at the beginning. It was...easier, in a way, to pretend to be dead. She had to mourn, of course, and that tore at her and still does sometimes, but it was a clean cut. It was simple.

Now her mother knows she’s alive and her brother knows and it’s a relief for all of them, but it also means Nile has to be the one consciously deciding not to call home until she’s in a safe enough place to do so, not to text until she can do it from a sufficiently untraceable phone. The temptation there is a hundred times harder to resist because it would be so easy not to.

“If it makes you feel better,” Joe’s voice says from the threshold, “I think we can all sympathize with that sentiment.”

He’s being quiet and careful—it’s the middle of the night after all—but Nile is still startled, and she pretends to glare at him until he tilts his head in quiet enquiry. In response she sighs, wipes at her wet cheeks again, and waves him over. He smiles, something almost like relief in it, and steps lightly into the living room.

“Mind the doctor,” Nile tells him, gesturing at the remains of the strawberry, as he lowers himself on the ground next to her.

“The doct—you mean Bâtard?”

“Yeah he’s—”

In that instant, Nile realizes she has no idea where Bâtard went. He was chilling by her feet, seemingly content to go to sleep soon, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. The realization is enough to send Nile’s heart racing, horrified at the thought of being the one under whose watch Bâtard meets an unfortunate end.

Sure, it isn’t her pet and she and Booker aren’t really close—not like she’s becoming with the others, at any rate—but 1) Bâtard doesn’t deserve to die and 2) it doesn’t take a genius to realize his demise would be absolutely disastrous for Booker’s mental health, and no one wants to see the consequences that could have on the rest of them. Joe must have gone through a similar realization, because as soon as Nile falls quiet he tenses and gets back up into a crouch.

“Please tell me we didn’t lose the tortoise,” he whispers, like he thinks Booker might be listening in on them.

“We didn’t lose the tortoise,” Nile replies because it’s barely been five minutes and Bâtard cannot possibly have gone far in that time frame.

“Good,” Joe says while Nile rummages through her pocket for her phone and turns the flashlight on, “because I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the fallout of—”

“We did not lose the tortoise,” Nile interrupts, her tone firm enough to pretend she’s not actually nervous about this. “Can you turn the light on? I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Joe does, and Nile spots Bâtard almost instantly, ambling in his unhurried stroll towards the fridge like he knows where the treats come from...maybe he does, Nile really doesn’t know enough about tortoises to tell. Either way, it’s a relief seeing him there, and she turns to let Joe know she’s found their target.

“Oh thank God,” Joe sighs, sagging with it. “I really don’t want to find out what Booker would be like if we lose him.”

“You know,” Nile remarks as she follows Bâtard’s mosey to the fridge, “I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time the lot of you had a talk about this.”

Joe winces, and Nile can sympathize with that if she’s really honest. She doesn’t feel the same about what happened, but then she doesn’t have a shared history with Booker the way the others do; it’s easier for her to let go faster. Still, Booker’s been back for nearly three months now, and Nile is getting tired of feeling like she needs to be walking on eggshells between the two parts of the group. Joe sighs.

“Which ‘this,’ do you think?”

“All of them,” Nile retorts, careful to keep her voice gentle. She’s not trying to force anyone into anything, after all. “Just...it’s been months, and you’re still avoiding each other. You all need to talk.”

Joe sighs again, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks like he might be ready to talk with someone, but the very thought of it makes Nile want to recoil. Another day, maybe. When she’s got more energy, and more space in her head for other people’s problems.

Not right now.

“Remember you’re on my strawberry,” Nile says, smiling to turn it half into a joke, “if you need a consultation you pay your own fee.”

“Alright,” Joe chuckles, good natured even in the middle of the night. “That’s fair.”

He sobers up soon after, growing quiet and serious to ask: “Is it working for you? Or would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’ll even listen for free, if you’re short on strawberries.”

Nile snorts. The truth is, she does feel better for having told him what was going on, even if her ‘consultation’ was accidentally cut short. She’s not sure how much of this she wants to share with the team just yet. There’s never an easy way to tell people who want to help you that they can’t because they’re simply...not who you want at that moment.

“Actually, I’m good right now,” she tells Joe. “Take you up on it another time?”

Joe visibly hesitates, something a little worried in his frown, so Nile gives a fond smile and leans up to squish him in a hug as much as she can manage.

“Thank you,” she tells him, relaxing when he returns the embrace just as tight and actually lifts her up against him. “I’m good, I promise. It’s not─you can probably guess most of it, honestly. I just...I feel kind of awkward about it, I guess.”

“Because we’re too close?” Joe guesses, and Nile nods.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone uninvolved.”

“Well,” Joe says, something too wet in his throat to be only about Nile, “I’m glad you have that then. Just...just know I mean it.”

“I know,” Nile promises, chest warming from the care and the obvious concern. “Now go to sleep, old man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nile gives Joe a playful shove, snorting when he pretends to stumble, and watches him go with the stretch of a smile sinking into her cheeks. Slowly, the air around her grows still again, the vague sounds of a forest at night and a door creaking barely even noticeable.

How much sleeping is actually taking place on the other side of the safehouse, Nile doesn’t know. She learned very quickly that no one on this team is capable of normal sleep patterns. It’s quiet all the same, and after a few seconds of standing in place, she goes to the fridge, retrieves a peach quarter from Bâtard’s snack box and she plops the offering in front of him, turns the light off, and sits back down next to the tortoise.

“Alright,” she tells him, “maybe I wasn’t completely fair with your dad. I mean...he was wrong, but it’s not like he was trying to be cruel. And he did have a bit of a point.”

She still can’t quite stand the thought of losing her family. It’s unavoidable, she knows. One day, maybe, she’ll make her peace with it, but for now...no. She doesn’t want to think about that any more than she already has tonight.

“I know there’s a purpose,” Nile tells Bâtard. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. And we’re getting better at it! I know I’m doing more good here than I used to as a soldier...but sometimes I wish there wasn't a purpose and I could just go home.”

Bâtard, either oblivious to or unconcerned by Nile’s predicament, keeps munching on his piece of peach, and Nile can’t help but smile down at him, reaching to rub at his head once more.

“You really are a good listener,” she tells him. “You’re still not my mom though. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

Bâtard looks up then, and straight at Nile with something that could almost pass for a purposefully flat expression...and, really, he’s not wrong. It’s nearing three am here which makes for...maybe ten or eleven in the evening in Chicago? And sure, Mom’s not so young anymore and could probably use the sleep...but today is her birthday, and Nile’s always tried to phone her on the day before, and she has a burner phone with her so, really, what’s stopping her?

Maybe the possibility of displeasing Andy, a bit. But, Nile thinks as she dials, they’re leaving tomorrow aren’t they? If she’s going to do it, at least she’s picking the least inconvenient time for it.

“N─yes?” Mom’s sleepy voice mumbles into the phone, better at the incognito game than she was when it all started two years ago. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Nile says, and smiles at her mother’s joyful, wordless exclamation. “Am I waking you up?”

“Nevermind that,” mom chides, “nevermind that! How are you? Where─well no, you can’t tell me where you are, but how are you?”

“Better now,” Nile says in a sigh, warmth and bittersweetness spreading in her chest as she leans back against the wall, finger still tracing circles on Bâtard’s head. “I mean. I miss you, but at least I get to hear you now.”

“Oh, I miss you too baby,” Mom says, tears audible in her voice, “but I’m so glad you called! Don’t tell your brother, but it’s definitely my favorite present this year!”

Nile smiles again, a little wobblier than she’d like, maybe, but not forced. This isn’t ideal and she wants more, but it’s better than not calling the way she’d planned to do. At her feet, in the dim silvery light of the moon, Bâtard looks just a little smug.

“Not a word,” Nile promises, knowing her mother is going to share the news herself anyway. “How was your day?”

“Oh it was nice! You know how I told Marjory down the street I felt ready to celebrate a little more this year now I got used to you being dead and all, so she treated me to lunch at that new Italian on the corner─you tell your Nuncio he was right, by the way, osso bucco is delicious. And then we went for a stroll in the park, and I was a little worried, because I’m still supposed to be grieving, but you’re alive and I wasn’t sure I’d look suitably emotional when we passed your favorite spots, but I do miss you so it really wasn’t that hard and all in all it was nice and Marjory’s none the wiser so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m sorry,” Nile says, unsurprised when Mom tuts at her in response. “I know, I know. I still wish you didn’t have to lie to her.”

“Nile, baby, if Marjory knew, she’d understand. Now you stop worrying about her and tell me what your day was like.”

“It was alright,” Nile says, rolling her neck as the tension slowly seeps out of it, the breaths coming slower and easier now that she’s actually doing what she’s wanted to do all day. “I missed you. Jaamal taught me how to draw a dog, though, and then Antaram kicked my butt in training again.”

“Just you wait a few years,” Mom says with a chuckle, “then you can take advantage of her age.”

Nile snorts, even though she seriously doubts Andy will let an aging body get in the way of remaining the best fighter of the group. She might look past forty─although she doesn’t remember how long she’d lived before she died the first time─but she’s also been fighting since before horses were domesticated (or near enough), and all that expertise doesn’t just go away.

It’s still an amusing thought, though, so Nile chuckles along with her mother for a bit before continuing.

“It’s not that bad. I’m learning a lot.”

“Of course, of course! I’m just saying.”

“Of course,” Nile repeats, still smiling. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nuncio made us tagine, Jaamal made fun of him because apparently he cooks like a christian─I’m pretty sure that’s an inside joke. And then I was feeling a little down so Blàsi lent me Bâtard, and now I’m here.”

“Is Bâtard Franklin’s name?” Mom suggests when she hears Nile hiss at her slip up.

“Yes, but I don’t think he deserves it,” Nile says, grateful for her mother’s help. “I think we’re bonding. Either that or he just wants me for my fruit.” Mom chuckles. “He’s wearing a doctor’s outfit right now, by the way. I think it’s one of the homemade ones.”

It looks lumpier than the ones Bâtard wore at the beginning, at any rate, but in a way that makes it even cuter. Not that she needs the cozies to find Bâtard cute anymore. It’s entirely possible the tortoise doesn’t care one whit about her─she really doesn’t know a lot about them─but it’s clear that this little late night conversation was enough for Nile to bond with him.

“Oh, well, send me a picture if you can,” Mom says with the tone of a connoisseur readying to look at a newbie’s attempt, “see if I can give Blàsi some pointers.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I can’t make promises,” Nile says, sadness creeping up again. “Places to see, things to do...you know how it is.”

“Speaking of,” Mom asks, “what time is it where you are? I mean─you can telle me that, right?”

“I can,” Nile says, smiling at her mother’s effort. “It’s uh...almost one AM.”

Nile yawns, unbidden, and then sighs.

“I think I need to go.”

“Yes you do,” Mom chides, teasing and firm all at once. “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you’re dead on your feet─off to bed, Nile.”

“I don’t want to,” Nile protests, not trying very hard to keep the pout out of her voice. “It’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” Mom says, and the tone of her voice is like a hug Nile wants to linger in forever. “I understand. I’m just glad you called.”

“I’m glad too,” Nile says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” Mom says, and Nile grins through a fresh wave of tears.

“Forever and ever?”

“Of course forever,” Mom promises with something like an amused eye roll in her tone. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Nile says, and then she reluctantly disconnects the call.

She’s still feeling blue, it’s true, but it’s a different sort of ache now, the sort that’s softened enough to be a fond remembrance of someone you love rather than a knife to the heart. It isn’t something Nile has figured out how to value yet, but it could be, someday, maybe. With a watery sigh and a smile, Nile bends to pick Bâtard up─he’s fallen asleep, it seems, all snuggled up in his shell and entirely unresponsive in the time it takes for her to scribble a quick thanks at the bottom of Booker’s note and bring Bâtard back to his terrarium in the old parlor.

“M’ci,” Booker mutters from the seat to her left, and Nile almost has a heart attack.

When she turns to scold Booker for it, however, he’s already back to sleep─or feigning sleep, she’s not entirely sure─his back to the door to the bedroom and turned towards the only unboarded window, which they’ve been using as an entry and exit point. Nile sighs, shaking her head, and goes to the room she shares with the others, only to jump again when she lies down on her mattress and finds herself face to face with Andy’s eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I fear the day my sleep patterns start matching yours,” Nile whispers to Andy, and sighs when all that garners her is a sharp smile. “How are you not dead on your feet?”

“I’m old enough to transcend the need for sleep.”

Nile punches her in the shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Nile says, trying to shift into a comfortable position. “I talked to my mother...it’s always too short but. It’s good.”

“Good,” Andy says. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Nile, I’m sorry.”

Nile blinks at the darkness. It’s been seven years, and while she knows full well Andy is perfectly capable of recognizing her shortcomings, it’s the first time Nile hears her actually apologize for anything. She’s got a right to be a little startled, she thinks.

“I was with Book on this,” Andy explains when the silence between them has stretched a little while longer. “Not seeing your family again, I mean. I didn’t think it could turn out well, either...sure didn’t do him any good. Or Lykon, for that matter.”

“To be fair,” Nile admits after a beat, “I get it. I’m probably just very lucky. And I...I’ll lose them anyway. Sooner or later. I don’t─I’m glad I still have them for a bit, even if it hurts but...sometimes, I think at least the clean break was...easier.”

Andy stays quiet at that, eyes still looking at Nile in the darkness. Nile resists the urge to squirm under those eyes, but she’s not surprised when the urge to elaborate becomes too strong:

“It’s just...before my mom saw us, I didn’t have to wonder how this was affecting everyone. No contact, stay out of Chicago for another fifty years, maybe a little more, and that was it. It hurt, but at least the path was clear. Now I keep wanting to call her not knowing if I should. I have to use fake names to tell her about the most important people in my life, who she’ll never meet─I’m making her lie to her best friend!”

On the other side of the room, Nicky snorts in his sleep, and Nile smiles through her anguish as it morphs into a soft snore.

“They’ve been friends since elementary school, you know,” Nile tells Andy when she’s sure Nicky isn’t waking up. “They tell each other everything, and now my mom has to lie to her because of me. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

She pauses, breathing through the sudden tightness in her throat, and concludes:

“I don’t know how long she’ll bear it.”

Andy hums.

“I don’t have any advice for you Nile,” she says eventually. “I don’t really remember how that went for me, it’s been too long. But...even now, sometimes I─it’s hard, living without your family. Even at my age.”

“I...I didn’t know you felt like that,” Nile admits. “I thought you’d grown past that.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Andy says. “I can’t remember what my parents looked like, or what it was like to be a child...but I do know what it’s like to want someone else to take care of your shit for a while.”

Nile grins, surprised into a light laughter that’s almost a giggle. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Andy is as human as any of them, even if she’s the oldest person on Earth. Discovering moments of relatability is always a delight and a relief all at once.

“I know we’re not your mom or your family,” Andy says after a while, the smile fading from her voice as she grows more serious, “and we’re not trying to be. But you’re─I won’t get angry if we’re not enough. You don’t have to...to hide it from me. You don’t have to stay alone and just...assume. There’s been too much of that lately.”

Nile can’t see Andy’s face in the darkness, not when her eyes aren’t angled to catch the moonlight, but it’s not hard to guess where she’s looking. In the doorway, Nile can see the outline of Booker’s seat, one hand dangling over the armrest─bottle free for the second night in a row, though there’s still an empty glass nearby on the floor.

“What I mean,” Andy says, startling Nile again, “is that you don’t have to be ashamed if we’re not what you want or need. The fact that you value your family isn’t a weakness, or a flaw. Just because we’ve─just because most of us grew out of it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for still needing more time, especially when it’s so recent. This...I didn’t tell him that, and I should have, so now I’m telling you. Not to protect us, but because it’s true.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Nile says.

“Sure. Now go to sleep,” Andy orders fondly.

Nile snorts, gives Andy a light punch in the shoulder, and turns over to go to sleep.

#The Old Guard #Nile Freeman #TOG Fic #NileFreemanWeek2020 #Fanfiction #Bâtard the tortoise #s: Bâtard verse

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oveliagirlhaditright · 3 years

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/33155107

Of all the people in the Hachiko Group, aside from Neku… the person that Joshua had always valued the most, was Rhyme. Neo spoilers.

The Joshyme here is platonic, but you can see it as romantic if you want.

Beam of Sunshine

Of all the people in the Hachiko Group, aside from Neku… the person that Joshua had always valued the most, was Rhyme.

And so, he supposed it was a good thing he’d brought her back to life, when he really hadn’t had to, then.

And there were a few reasons for that he did love her… It was for the fact that the clever girl could keep up with him (so much so that she had said she’d known he was the smart one in the Tin Pin universe, when he’d rightly called her out on being a traitor)… for her laughing at his jokes at her brother’s expense (though she did clearly love Beat more than anything)… and since they could think alike sometimes.

Joshua had heard Rhyme thinking during her week of the Game, that everyone in Shibuya’s values were trying to come in the loudest, much like how he had later said it was impossible for people to understand each other.

…Rhyme was also nice. Much too kind for her own good, really, and he hated to see when she got taken advantage of (and almost wanted to give her a stern talking to when these moments happened). And Joshua knew that that was a lot of the reason he adored about her, since part of the reason he’d wanted to destroy Shibuya was because of its sin, after all.

But the reason he was making himself known to the girl now? And preparing to compliment her? It was because he owed her, that’s why.

At the moment, Rhyme was buying herself an ice cream cone at Miyashita Park. And while Josh himself didn’t like the stuff, he thought Rhyme certainly deserved the treat, if she herself did. “All work and no play made Rhyme a dull girl,” like she had told Beat earlier in the week.

Making sure that no one was watching him, Joshua sat on the bench beside the younger Bito sibling, willed himself into the RG, and touched Rhyme’s hand, so that she would know he was there.

…Though he supposed he shouldn’t have done the latter, because that seemed to startle the girl more than anything. She nearly jumped forty feet into the air, Joshua thought (quite impressive, for a non-flier) and her heart rate had gone quite high. Joshua was almost worried she’d have to start playing the Game again, if it shot up any more, and that just wouldn’t do.

He held up a hand and offered her a small smile to try and calm her down. “Sorry to startle you, Raimu. I admit, I could have gone about that all a bit better… This whole thing I’m about to do is largely out of character, and I’m out of my depth.”

“C-can I help you, then?” Rhyme breathed. Her heart calming down, as she caught her breath and cautiously took a seat beside the Composer.

Joshua could hardly blame her for her caution. Because while they had hung-out a little bit in the past, it had been three years since they had seen each other last, really. And he doubted she remembered when she’d been soul fragments in Traverse Town.

“After all, two people working as opposed to one lightens the load!” Rhyme carried on.

Joshua smirked and “hmmed” at her comment. Because he could have expected that she would use an adage, but for some reason he never would have guessed she would have directed one at him. Was he becoming too human for her to have done that, or was he not enough human, that he thought the little ray of sunshine wouldn’t try to win him over with her words, too?

“Normally, Raimu, I would take you up on the offer. And it’s quite nice of you to ask… But not now, when what I’m here for is quite simple. Just know that I’m here to tell you… I’m proud of you. And these words don’t leave my mouth easily. I don’t think I’ve ever even spoken so candidly with Neku. But… while I don’t know if I necessarily want you hacking my Game ever again, young lady.”

And somehow, Rhyme had it within her to first look guilty for what she’d done, but then also challenging—as if thinking that she would do it again, if she needed to—and Joshua, despite himself, found himself respecting her all the more for it. He resisted the urge to pat her head, for the good little girl she was.

But she was so much more than that, too, wasn’t she? And that was why he was here.

Forming an arch with his fingers, and placing it over his forehead, Yoshiya continued on. “But you really helped to save the day. Shibuya would not be standing now, were it not for your efforts. And that is something. Hacking is not the dream you originally had. You lost your dreams—your original Entry Fee—but you didn’t wallow in despair, but instead filled in that hole with something new, and saved the day when duty called… And if I didn’t know any better, I’d be thinking that maybe I should be calling upon you when the UG needs someone, and not Neku anymore.”

Rhyme gasped at that. And while Joshua was very much not human—especially not now. The Composer had come out to play at this moment. Joshua had never meant to make that proposition to Rhyme… and to get “creepy”, and so “god of death-like”, as it were, but perhaps Yoshiya had all along—he could allow her being so human as to be shocked, as he tried to get a handle on this horrible situation he’d just screwed up, when he’d just come to give the poor kid a solid… not give her cardiac arrest. Really.

After she had gotten her breath once more, it seemed it was Rhyme’s turn to surprise Joshua. The girl’s ice cream was starting to melt: again, this was Joshua’s own fault, for having such a conversation with Rhyme, when she was eating such a substance. And he comforted himself in the fact that it was vanilla ice cream (white), at least, matching his shirt. If the disgusting, overly-sweet gelatinous stuff got on his top, as Raimu leaned towards him now, he should be able to get the stain out with his powers, just fine.

“…Not that I’d ever really want to go back to anything involving the Game, if I had the choice, Joshua. I enjoy being a hacker, thank you very much. And I think I might try to work for the NPA… I have been thinking about it some… and if it ever came down to it, I wouldn’t mind trying to ascend to try and help everyone, if I needed to. But only then! Because where there’s no light, be the light, right? Kind of like I was the other da-.”

And here Joshua had to put a hand to the girl’s lips to keep her from finishing that sentence. What a minx Raimu Bito was! Who would have guessed it?! Because, yes: the lonely part of him would have been far too happy to find a way to make her into an angel now, so he could have someone with him forever; it was the same way that he desperately wanted Neku to be his Conductor.

Well, Joshua supposed he deserved this temptation for getting as off-track as he had. He tried to grab control now—as he got off the bench, backed away from Rhyme, and bowed to her slightly… which was all too weird, because even this was how Japanese politeness worked (Joshua knew it well), he couldn’t help feeling, she should have been bowing to him, and not the other way around. But he would stifle that feeling. “I, uhh… apologize I guess, Rhyme Bito. Thank you again for your assistance. But do keep out of the RNS, unless I specifically ask.”

Rhyme had sobered up now, too. And was somehow gracefully licking at all the melting spots on her ice cream cone, to try and salvage it so she wouldn’t have a complete mess, before she waved at him, “And thank youfor showing up and helping us, Josh! I know Neku doesn’t show it that much—still more than he used to back in the day, though—but it meant more to him than you know… And thanks for what you did for Shoka and Rindo, too! Don’t be a stranger!”

And Rhyme beamed at Josh, being very much like the ray of sunshine he’d referred to her earlier.

And so… Joshua decided that maybe for that—for her… for all of the Hachiko Group, really—he could try and keep the life-and-death things to a minimum, and be a normal person people would appreciate around them, and show up to these events that Neku and Rhyme had invited him to.

“Yes, Rhyme… thank you, indeed.”

Author’s Note: So, for those who don't know, Joshyme was a pretty big deal in the fandom, back in the day....

And I guess I've brought it back in the year of our Lord 2021. But this might be the last fic I write for them. Or it might not. We'll see.And I kind of wrote this by accident? I wanted to write some Bito sibling stuff... but that'll come later.

But Joshua and Rhyme's possible relationship (platonic) has always fascinated me, because I feel there's some interesting stuff there. And I think Joshua could potentially be proud of her for what she did, even after she lost her dreams.

Hope you all enjoyed?

#neo twewy #ntwewy #neo #neo the world ends with you #joshyme #Yoshiya kiryu #Raimu bito #Joshua kiryu #rhyme bito #Joshua and rhyme

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anhed-nia · 4 years

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BLOGTOBER PRE-GAME 9/30/2020: 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE/CONFESSIONAL (2019)

Spoiler alert. Or whatever. It’s not going to matter, you don’t care.

So, I've been away for a minute. Just about any reason to be away from Tumblr is probably a good reason, but I have an especially good one. I'm finally working on a "real" writing project, which demands, and deserves, all of my attention. My social media abstinence isn't just a matter of time management, though. Once I had a long term obligation on my plate, I became very aware of how the short term satisfaction I get from posting mindless rants was eating away at the fuel I have available for sustained efforts. When I wind myself up with a 500-1000 word blog post, it generates a lot of electricity, but I blow it all as soon as I experience the catharsis of posting it, and I'm further pacified by ego-stroking likes and reblogs. Not to sound like a sanctimonious luddite--I mean, I'm still here, after all!--but it turns out that the staying focused on the long haul has been surprisingly revivifying. In fact, I haven't been talking about my big fancy project for the same reason; I don't want to lose any of the juice I've been storing up by wasting it on the shallow pleasure of describing it. Also such things should probably be somewhat confidential until they're approaching the publishing stage, but I digress! There is an actual reason I'm saying all this, that has more to do with this blog.

(Don’t get all excited, I’m not doing EVIL ED right now, I just need a relatable image.)

As I got deeper into my experience of "real" film writing, I started to reflect on the meaning of my personal writing. Like, the point of it. I tend to write in a sweaty, compulsive, sadomasochistic haze, in which I'm sometimes hyperbolically generous, and sometimes--perhaps more often, unfortunately--as nasty as humanly possible. Sometimes the movies deserve it, when they're lazy, pretentious, or otherwise demonstrate an open contempt for the audience aka ME. Often, though, I'm just creating an opportunity to vent my generalized rage and frustration. That can be very entertaining for myself and (hopefully) my teensy-but-devoted readership, but lately I've asked myself whether there isn't some negative tradeoff for all this amusement. In this phase of my life, it's reasonable to assume I'll make more and more friends and acquaintances who create things I don't always care for, but I don't necessarily think they deserve to be abused for it. As much as I have a right to say whatever I want, technically, I'd be embarrassed if I were caught just jacking myself off by making fun of their work in public. And more to the point, I don't necessarily want to contribute to the growing atmosphere in which people feel more afraid to try and fail, because the public so commonly misidentifies sarcasm and mean-spiritedness as intelligence and superiority, and that form of petty darkness spreads across the internet a lot faster than a movie can reach a wider audience. After all, I'm in the process of potentially turning myself into one of those well-meaning failures right now. I could stand to be a little more deliberate about how I speak, and about what, in general.

My father is an art critic, and once in an extra petulant moment, teenage-me asked him in an accusative tone what he thought the point of his profession was. He replied calmly that he wouldn't publish any comment that he didn't think the artist could make use of somehow. I don't know if he always stuck to that policy, but the thought sure stuck with me.

So anyway, over the last few months I've been giving myself a bit of an attitude adjustment, through a combination of personal reflection, and hard work on something meaningful/not for the internet. I've been feeling all proud of myself and shit, but today reminded me that any path to enlightenment is always marked by setbacks, doubt, and temptation. For today, in complete innocence (or at least a melange of innocence and ignorance, as I very much invite this type of problem), I managed to watch TWO (2) movies about an academic film-cum-psychology project, focused on a gang of college buddies who inevitably reveal what bad people they are under the unique conditions of the project, and then the project turns out to be run NOT by its presumed-dead originator, but by the originator's even-crazier lover. It's amazing how particular something can be, and still be utterly obvious and cliche. In my defense, I really tried to turn the second movie off, because it was...just instantly terrible, but the seed of suspicion had taken root--is this randomly selected movie ACTUALLY EXACTLY THE SAME AS THE PREVIOUS MOVIE?--and I just had to find out if this could be true. I suffered, deliberately, for another hour and a half, to confirm my awful hunch. I don't know how I would have felt if I had turned out to be wrong (better? worse?), but I don't have to worry about that now. Now I just have to worry about my overpowering impulse to be as ugly as possible about what I have personally subjected myself to.

(The completely deceptive poster for our not at all witchy or eerie opening feature.)

In need of a passable time-waster this afternoon, I put on 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE. Released in March of 2019, Caitlin Koller's claustrophobic black comedy feels oddly like a product of 2020. A group of estranged, middle-aged college pals of the BIG CHILL ilk--which one of the characters calls out, out loud, just so ya know--come together for a fallen comrade's funeral, only to find themselves trapped in his widow's increasingly creepy cabin in the woods. Said comrade was driven to suicide by the failure of a psychological experiment he conducted that plunged its subject into madness, and if you don't realize right away that the obnoxious and unstable cast are the new subjects of their not-quite-dead friend's renewed project, then you're firing a lot slower than 24 frames per second. The dialog is often decent, aiding a handful of funny, natural performances...but it's hard to forget that you're just waiting for the conspicuously crazy widow to reveal that the "unexplained events" in and around the cabin are part of a controlled attempt to get the guests to devolve into their worst selves, which isn't such a difficult task considering the undesirable state they all arrive in.

It just made me ask myself, what was the point of this? Why do people make movies that are entirely predicated on the shock of the twist, knowing that if the twist isn't so shocking--or is baldly obvious from the start--then the whole experience just falls apart? Why not hedge your bets with a little more depth, or purpose, or style, or really anything more reliable than a smug attempt to prove that your script is smarter than your audience? Even if you do manage to pull off this dubious accomplishment, it reduces your movie to something like the experience of having somebody jump out of a closet and scream in your ear to "get" you. I've always felt concerned that if somebody ever tries to "get" me like that, I might just automatically punch them in the face. But anyway, whatever shred of good will this movie could have accrued with its plucky performances is blown away by the final insult, when the cops arrive to clean up the inevitable bloody mess. The responding officers are hilariously unimpressed and unsurprised by the byzantine scheme that has resulted in a shocking act of violence, because the cabin's "guest book", which our heroes all filled out, was actually the signatory page of a complicated waiver form granting full permission to the hosts to, like, do whatever the hell they want to everybody. Presumably this shit just goes on all the time, leading the local law to shrug off anything that happens to or because of the dumbassed lab rats who frequent the cabin? I dunno. I mean, what can I say? ACAB, I guess!

At the time, I managed to resist the urge to take to the internet and decry the crimes of this lame-o party joke. I really don't like the sensation that a movie is just trying to trick me into thinking something that isn't true. But, this isn't, like, an affront to cinema. People make annoying, below average movies all the time, and maybe you kinda have to, if you eventually want to make better movies. I imagine myself in the shoes of the people who actually put some elbow grease into this production, having to wade through the rantings of internet ghouls like myself while they're trying to see how their efforts are paying off. Making a movie is probably a lot harder than I think it is.

But that's part of the point I'm heading toward. I'm always amazed by people's willingness to pour huge amounts of energy and capital into something to which there is ultimately very little point. I mean, I have bad, unoriginal, boring ideas every single day of my life. But I almost never DO any of them. I have a hard enough time convincing myself to just get out of bed in the morning, let alone devote blood, sweat, and money to deliver unto the world material evidence of my personal mediocrity. I can't imagine thinking it would be worth it, for myself or the unfortunate people who are subjected to my project, to actually execute on my bad ideas. I'm being judgmental, but honestly, I don't even know if my attitude makes me better or worse than someone who accomplishes the task of completing and selling a movie that's mainly a waste of time. Movies are so complicated, and realizing them requires the consensus of so many people, that it's sort of incredible that there are people capable of making one that doesn't have a powerfully compelling motivation behind it. People who are able to do such a thing obviously have something that I don't, and it isn't just "consideration for the audience."

So, I could probably stand to be more forgiving--or just, less eager to absolutely flay someone alive on my dumb little blog because they so opened themselves up to my arsenal of elaborate insults. But like...not all the time. Sometimes, a movie really fucking asks for it, and in revealing itself to me, it has effectively signed a waiver giving me patent freedom to do whatever I want to it. CONFESSIONAL is the latest movie to give me such a gift. After the final credit rolled in 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE, I looked for a little palate cleanser. As little as I like movies that put their single egg in the motheaten basket of a "shocking twist", I also have a problem with what I identify as canned theater. Not that I think all movies have to be lavish productions, but I think they should try to do something that is natively cinematic. It's very rare that I'm impressed by anything that is literally all talk. So, I went in search of some more familiar form of trash to help me recallibrate, and trash is definitely what I got.

(Me crying over my own bad decisions.)

To be fair, I kind of should have known that I was in for a challenging experience. The 2019 found footage thriller CONFESSIONAL is more or less based on the "confessional" part of sleazy reality TV shows, isolating each cast member in a soundproof stall so they can spill the rotten contents of their guts. Unfortunately, I spotted a review suggesting that the movie succeeded, against all odds, at remaining visually dynamic despite the unchanging scenery, and I was intrigued. The reviewer was correct, impressively; the monotony of the coffin-like environment with its dark foam walls was the least of my concerns. Other problems superseded that threat, immediately. The plot concerns a group of college pals who come together to remember a recently deceased friend--a filmmaker who expired mysteriously while completing a psychology-tinged project in which she recorded all of her friends' most shameful personal secrets. Now, somebody else has taken over the project...someone who "has never been identified", according to an early title card in this movie-within-a-movie (EVEN THOUGH THIS PERSON WILL BE EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED AT THE END OF THE MOVIE SO LIKE WHY), but who seems likely to be the decedent's ex-lover...who continues to expose their subjects' most shameful secrets on film. I mean, what the fuck? Did I somehow manage to pick a second movie with almost the exact same plot??? I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I could take it. My prospects only got worse when the cast showed up and started talking. I tried to turn the movie off. I backed out and walked away from it, twice. But I couldn't leave it alone. I had to know if it was really the same movie.

CONFESSIONAL concerns characters who are contemporaneously in college, which actually goes a long way to making everything worse. Each of these walking cliches is connected in some way to Amelia, a film student whose mysterious death has created a campus scandal, leaving shattered hearts and lives in its wake. The living have each received a blackmail-flavored invitation to speak about the deceased in a tiny "confessional booth" somewhere on campus, where, predictably, they find themselves locked in until they confess whatever they know about Amelia, and their classmates. I don't know why practically every single movie about young people has to be so miserable, but this is one of those. I assume that it has something to do with the fact that youth is simultaneously so desired and so ignored. People in their teens and early 20s are so sexually coveted, yet so easily dismissed as individuals, that we wind up with all this media that panders to them relentlessly (or at least, panders to the legions of ticket-buying perverts who enjoy watching them prance around), without almost any consideration of how they actually think and act, and look. Movies like FAT GIRL and WELCOME TO THE DOLL HOUSE may be accused of their own form of pandering, a venal form of voyeuristic schadenfreude, but at least they reflect something of the awkwardness, isolation, and incompleteness of adolescence; something more than the dissociated, pornographic fantasies of adults who have long since forgotten what it was like to be powerless and ignored, or desired by people who don't even like you.

Not that CONFESSIONAL is supposed to be a work of grim realism, but it is most definitely rooted in a fantasy about college life that makes its contrived, message-y plot a lot harder to take. With almost the sole exception of "the nerdy one", every single character looks like a Bratz doll, oozing an exaggerated indecency that belies the movie's pretentious insistence on addressing the sex & gender Issues of the Day. What you get is a really good example of what happens when millennial characters are modeled, not on any actual millennials, but on other forms of marketing that are aimed at millennials, which are themselves just based on other preexisting youth-targeted commercials, et al ad nauseam. Even setting aside the deliriously slutty wardrobe choices, makeup appears to have been laid on with a trowel, coating each actor in a thick creamy layer of spackle that only makes any scars, pits, or other evidence of individuality look utterly bizarre. Accordingly, everybody preens, pouts, and generally behaves as if they're about to take off their clothes, which might be a huge relief given the profusion of chafing, cheapo mesh and straps they're laboring under.

So, ok, not every movie can have a great costume department, but the dialog here is a perfect match for the disastrous aesthetic decisions. Actually, this is the real reason I almost walked out on CONFESSIONAL. If I may ramble briefly, without substantiating any of my broad-ranging claims: Sometime in the late 90s/early 00s, horror cinema seemed to suffer a degenerative slide away from genuine thrills and chills, and into a version of the genre that is best characterized as the Slutty Halloween Costume approach. Any sense of existential dread, revulsion, or bodily vulnerability was widely replaced by a cutesy, Hot Topic-y preference for fast fashion and sex appeal, in which bloodshed more facilitated an informal wet teeshirt contest than any real fear induction. Horror's new mall goth look came with an equally shallow, boring verbal affectation: a sullen, sleazy, tooth-sucking sarcasm, that ushered in a new era in which, instead of making fun of the scummy coked-out dialog in porno movies, we now expect everybody to just talk like that, because it's hot. There's probably a line to be drawn between this unfortunate development, and the boneheaded real-world trend of identifying "sarcasm" as an important personal selling point on dating sites, but I won't try to prove that here. For now, I will just say that as soon as I heard the CONFESSIONAL characters start to speak, with their sneering, insinuating tones, with the vocal fry, with the head wagging, the jutting jaws, the smoldering gazes, the juvenile dragging-out of horny grownup words like de-bauch-er-y...I almost lost my nerve. Listening to these little creeps hissing and spitting for 84 minutes is a lot like being hit on by some barfly who continues to bludgeon you with his hot breath and corny lines without ever noticing that you've thrown up into your pint.

Uh, anyway. So what actually happens in the movie. Why would anyone ever allow someone to record video of them revealing the ugliest, most embarrassing parts of themselves? Especially a kid, for whom popularity and reputation are often a matter of life or death--literally and specifically, in the case of this story. The flimsy reason is that the late filmmaker, Amelia, was the most awesomest girl ever. Everybody loved her, because she was so sweet, and so smart, and so cool, and so nice, and so deep, and so original, and so talented, and so sexy, and just like, the bestest most perfectest girl in the whole wide world. N.B. "The greatest of all time" is, perhaps counter-intuitively, a really bad quality that makes for really shitty, boring characters. For better or worse, Amelia is rarely on screen (and when she is, she's no Laura Palmer, frankly), so it's up to the viewer to just sort of imagine a type of person who could make you act against your best interests on account of you just like them so much. After all, so many of the characters were obsessed with her in some way, that it's like they're here to help you clap your hands and believe in this seductive, compelling part of the movie, that just isn't actually there on the screen. The anonymous antihero behind the confessional booth scheme slowly extracts from each character the selfish, destructive behavior that in some way contributed to the tragic loss of the most amazing person of all time--and part of the result is, if not a very interesting excuse for Amelia's death, then a story so wacky that I really wish they had centered the movie on it, instead of on the tawdry soap opera we're locked into. Even if that imaginary movie had been really bad, and it probably would have been, at it would at least have been entertaining.

Part of what leads up to the death of Amelia is the existence of a secret school fight club, led by a stereotypically sleazy gender studies major, named Major, who is out to prove men's inherent superiority. The club is called CFB, or Cock Fights Back, which is somehow a garbled pun relating to cock fights, and Trump's famous line of "locker room talk": "grab'em by the pussy" > "pussy grabs back" > "cock fights back". CFB is different from your ordinary fight club in that the fights are always between girls and boys, and the boys are always blindfolded, in order to prove that a fully-abled female is no match for even a handicapped male. To complicate things, a new designer amphetamine is gaining popularity on campus, called "odds-on", meaning that it makes you the odds-on favorite in your CFB fight. As awkward as that is, it also seems that men are never the guaranteed winners of these fights, which makes you wonder why Major insists on continuing to host them. As much as I would have preferred to watch a stupid movie about this stupid idea, I'm stuck instead with a movie in which Major is such an aggressive MRA because he's secretly gay, and he thinks that hating women is a great way to hide that...as if that isn't what we all openly suspect about aggro MRAs. Secret gayness is a big part of this movie, involving multiple characters, although it amounts to very little other than the perpetuation of some stale, harmful cliches about how unfulfilled homosexual urges lead to suicide, sexual abuse, and murder. CONFESSIONAL is just as reliant on this grim vision of gay life, as it is on its weirdly obtuse discussion of drug addiction, for the suffocating sense of self-importance that it uses to try to elevate itself above its porn-y trappings. None of the movie's hot button issues are given any real thought, but are only dragged through the mud to create the illusion that there's a point to all this, thus relieving the film of any sense of innocence that could have made its condescending sleaziness forgivable.

Admittedly, I can't really remember all the details of the film's tortured intrigue anymore, even though I basically just saw it. A lot of its meandering revelations just left me thinking, "Why did I need to know that? Why should I care?" I do know that about half way through this ordeal, I became really anxious about whether it would turn out that CONFESSIONAL did NOT have exactly the same plot as 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE after all, and I put myself through all this for nothing. But no, I was right to begin with. The wonderful Amelia's ethically dubious film project has been picked up by the unhinged lesbian character who loved her so much she wanted to become her, and killing Amelia and usurping her confessional project was apparently the best way of doing that. I guess exposing all the dark, violent secrets of all these tangentially involved characters was just an added bonus, or whatever. Ultimately, this ugly, ignorant PSA about something-or-other only deals itself further damage by relying so heavily on the potential of its clumsy twist to blow your mind, which it does not at all.

So that was it, that's how I burned a whole afternoon allowing my mind to implode-not-explode under the ponderous force of TWO (2) movies about exactly the same exhausted cliche that is still being peddled by certain pretentious assholes as fresh and exciting, and beyond the capacity of the audience to anticipate. There's probably a whole slew of other movies that employ this overly familiar "surprise", but I don't have it in me to dig them out of my long-suffering brain. Feel free to contribute in the comments. For now, I must prepare myself for the ordeal of Blogtober, during which I will *hopefully* choose my screening selections and words more thoughtfully than I have in previous years, when this blog was motivated by just as much abject misanthropy as these movies, which do nothing but willfully insult the audience's intelligence. Maybe today's detour into degradation will help me go forth toward more additive experiences, having purged several lungfuls of meaningless venom from my system, and this season will bring with it more interesting, provocative posts than the last. Or maybe not! In any case, I promise to keep trying my hardest to make it funny.

PS I actually love both FAT GIRL and WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE. I’m “just saying”.

#blogtober #2020 #confessional #2019 #30 miles from nowhere #horror #thriller #black comedy #found footage #brad t gottfred #jennifer wolfe #jennifer bosworth #caitlin koller

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chiseler · 4 years

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The Weeder in God’s Garden

A moral crusader from his early years, Anthony Comstock was born in New Canaan, Connecticut in 1844. His father, Thomas, was a prosperous farmer who also owned two sawmills. While the family had plenty of money, it was through the influence of Comstock’s fervent Congregationalist mother Polly, who like her husband had descended from Puritan stock, that the seven Comstock children led very austere lives marked by hard work, religious instruction, and precious little fun. Among his siblings, Anthony was the only one who clung fiercely to his mother’s fire and brimstone sensibilities. Polly died when Anthony was ten, but by then he knew full well Satan was a very real force in the world, and the only way to stay right with God was to remain pure in thought and deed, resisting the ever-present temptations presented by the Prince of Lies. Alcohol, tobacco, gambling and especially sex were all tickets straight to Hell, a belief he inflicted on everyone around him. This made him, no doubt, a very annoying child.

As a student in the local public school, Comstock never got a firm grasp on reading or spelling, which he considered useless anyway. He also found his growing sense of moral outrage enflamed by his fellow students, those godless little miscreants, who among other things would surreptitiously pass around ads for packs of those French playing cards with the pictures of the girls on them. No, the only education he needed he learned through the Old Testament stories his mother had read him, those tales of a vengeful God and the awful fate awaiting sinful, wicked men who ally themselves with the forces of evil.

When the Civil War broke out, Comstock, then 19, volunteered for the union army and was packed off to Florida. Much to his horror, he quickly discovered that certain Northern businesses, hoping to ease the burden of those proud soldiers willing to sacrifice everything in defense of, well, whatever it was, were in the habit of delivering shipments of not only whiskey and tobacco to the camps, but pornography as well. Although he saw precious little action, he immediately became an enormous pain in the ass to the fellow soldiers in his regiment. Forget about the Confederate army—it was the smoking, drinking, cursing and gambling among those in camp with him that would prove their downfall, and he let them know it on a daily basis. He would claim in his diary to have converted two or three of his fellow soldiers to the ways of righteousness, promising Comstock they would neither drink nor chew tobacco for the duration of the war. But given the evidence of his diary entries, it seems Comstock’s own wartime vice was porn.

In a 1863 diary entry he wrote: “Again tempted and found wanting…Sin, sin. Oh how much peace and happiness is sacrificed on thy altar.” Other entries make it clear the early morning temptations he failed to resist took the form of self abuse.

(In psychological terms, as history has shown time and again, Comstock’s weakness for porn is hardly a shock considering his coming crusade.)

Comstock was not exactly a wholly freelance operator when it came to his wartime proselytizing. He allied himself with The Christian Commission, a project spearheaded by the YMCA which sent missionaries to the front in order to try and save the souls of both Confederate and Union soldiers. His association with the Christian Commission would prove very profitable in the years following the war.

After leaving the army, Comstock moved to New York and took a job at a dry goods store in Manhattan. While most commentators seem baffled by Comstock’s decision to move to the very heart of American vice, a growing dirty metropolis where taverns, gambling join’s, contraceptive devices, prostitutes and erotic literature were all plentiful and accessible, his motivation as a crusader made the move an obvious one. If your self-appointed mission is to stamp out vice, then you go where the vice is.

And sure enough, the bookseller next door to the dry goods store where Comstock worked, a Mr. Conroy, did a brisk business selling pornographic pictures and erotica to those heathens deaf to the word of the Lord. Understandably outraged by this, Comstock entered the store, purchased an obscene book, brought it straight to the police and then led them to the man who sold it to him.

Although the police took Conroy into custody, the bookseller was soon free again and back to his godless business. Every time Comstock demanded the smut merchant be arrested, he was freed again in a matter of hours, convincing Comstock (and correctly) the cops were in cahoots with the city’s purveyors of vice, though this epiphany in no way tempered his holy mission.

Entrapment not being a major legal roadblock in the late 19th century, Comstock would use the same technique—making an illicit purchase, then fingering the seller—to wage his one-man war om smut peddlers throughout the city.

His tireless crusade soon not only earned Comstock coverage in the local papers, in 1872 it also brought him to the attention of the founders of the YMCA. It was the YMCA’s Christian Commission, after all, which had pushed for an amendment to the 1865 postal bill making it a misdemeanor to send obscene material through the mail. Impressed by Comstock’s efforts to eradicate vice, the YMCA’s brass began introducing the young zealot to a number of wealthy and powerful men around the city who who likewise felt something needed to be done about New York’s shocking moral degradation. Comstock seemed to be just the reformist warrior they were looking for. With their financial backing and political connections supporting him, Comstock founded The New York Society for the Suppression of Vice.

Under the guise of the NYSSV, and with the enthusiastic encouragement of local and federal politicians, wealthy conservatives, and evangelicals, Comstock expanded his efforts, demanding the confiscation of not only blatantly pornigraphic materials and the arrest of those who sold them, but the banning of books, artwork and plays he deemed obscene, though his definition of “obscene” was so broad and so vague it essentially boiled down to “anything Comstock didn’t like.” Over the years this would include medical textbooks, classic literature and newspaper editorials condemning his campaign. The efforts to ban works of art and literature willy-nully came to be known, in a term generally if inaccurately attributed to George Bernard Shaw, as “Comstockery.”

Although Comstock did have any number of outspoken enemies around town, especially among early civil libertarians and women’s rights groups, no one seemed capable of stopping, or even curtailing, his efforts. Because of this, his sense of personal invincibility grew, as did his political clout. People were scared to death of him, even if they hated him and everything he stood for. Cross Comstock, and you could find yourself in prison for sending a Mother’s Day card.

It’s been argued that Comstock’s war on obscene material was, at it’s core, really a war against contraception and abortion, given he argued that the reading of obscene materials inevitably led to the sort of behavior that would bring contraception and abortion into play. Inspired by the 1865 postal law, with the help of his political backers, in 1873 what came to be known as The Comstock Act was passed. The law not only forbade sending obscene material through the mail, but any product or information related to contraception or abortion. Three years later, the Comstock Act (aka The Comstock Law) was amended, its powers greatly expanded. The amended version read:

"Every obscene, lewd, or lascivious book, pamphlet, picture, paper, writing, print or other publication of an indecent character, and every article or thing designed or intended for the prevention of conception or procuring of abortion, and every article or thing intended or adapted for any indecent or immoral use, and every written or printed card, circular, book, pamphlet, advertisement, or notice of any kind giving information, directly or indirectly, where, or how, or of whom, or by what means, any of the hereinbefore mentioned matters, articles, or things may be obtained or made, and every letter upon the envelope of which, or postal card upon which, indecent, lewd, obscene, or lascivious delineations, epithets, terms, or language may be written or printed, are hereby declared to be non-mailable matter, and shall not be conveyed in the mails, nor delivered from any post-office, nor by any letter-carrier.”

After the Act was passed, Comstock was made a Special Agent of the US Postal Service, a position that gave him police powers and the right to carry a gun. Although he received no pay as a postal inspector, it was a position he undertook with gusto, as it granted him the power to make his own arrests without bringing those corrupt cops into it. Returning to the same technique he first used to nab that smut peddler Conroy, Comstock, under a false name, would order material through the mail that was covered under his namesake law, and upon receiving it, would order the arrest of the seller, who would then be charged with a federal offense. This included the publisher of anatomy textbooks, two journalists who had written a piece about the sexual improprieties of a well-known religious figure, even one activist who, as a test, had sent some of the Bible’s racier passages through the mail.

In Charles Gallaudet’s 1913 biography, Anthony Comstock, Fighter: Some Impressions of a Lifetime Adventure in Conflict with the Powers of Evil, Comstock would boast he had destroyed 284,000 pounds of printing plates used to create obscene books, 15 tons worth of printed material, nearly 100,000 “articles made of rubber for immoral purposes,” and millions of pornographic images.

It’s also been rumored, and I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if it was true, that in the process of destroying all that material, Comstock quietly squirreled away a massive secret personal library of confiscated books and images, which he would freely share with his wealthy and powerful friends

By his own account, Comstock arrested some four thousand people over the course of his four-decade career as a “weeder in God’s garden,” as he termed himself. Of these, no case received more press than the arrest of D.M. Bennett, a Free Thinker and publisher of The Truth Seeker magazine. As noted in its first issue, the magazine sought to promote "science, morals, free thought, free discussions, liberalism, sexual equality, labor reform progression, free education, and whatever tends to elevate and emancipate the human race." This, needless to say, did not include religious zealots or self-righteous political opportunists, and so found itself in Comstock’s crosshairs.

Comstock had Bennett arrested for both sending a pamphlet advocating Free Love through the mail, and fore writing an editorial for his magazine entitled “An Open Letter to Jesus Christ.” At the close of the highly-publicized trial, Bennett was found guilty and sentenced to thirteen months in prison for violating The Comstock Act.

Comstock was also mighty proud his efforts had driven at least fifteen lost souls (again by his own reckoning) to commit suicide. One was an abortionist who’d been arrested for giving a bottle of pills to Comstock, after he approached her claiming to be the husband of a woman whose current pregnancy was putting her life at risk. Another was Ida Craddock, the author of several explicit marriage manuals, who was arrested after mailing them to her naive and confused customers. Craddock killed herself the day before reporting to federal prison, leaving behind a blistering note condemning Comstock and his supporters.

Comstock’s final arrest and court case came in January of 1915, when he arrested Bill Sanger, husband of pioneering feminist and contraception-rights activist Margaret Sanger, for distributing her pamphlet “Family Limitation.” Like most of those targeted by Comstock, Sanger was found guilty.

Although Comstock took aim at some worthwhile targets in his war on vice, including medical quackery and economic fraud, he will always be remembered as America’s foremost book-burner, a man whose influence would linger for half a century after his 1915 death. His postmortem influence over what Americans could and could not legally read or see would only be broken in June of 1964, when the Supreme Court ruled Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer was not obscene.

Yeah, Anthony Comstock was a real asshole, a man utterly incapable of minding his own goddamn business. But like Joe McCarthy he still has his ardent supporters among the pro-life and evangelical set, pinch-faced types who pine for the days when abortionists were jailed and books they didn’t understand were burned. In fact one of Comstock’s devotees recently published a graphic novel based on the 1913 biography, which itself was turned into a crudely animated film for those True Believers who remain as illiterate as Comstock himself.

by Jim Knipfel

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Junji Ito’s No Longer Human

Of all the famous works of literature to get the Classics Illustrated treatment, Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human is an odd choice. Its protagonist is Oba Yozo, a tortured soul who never figures out how to be his authentic self in a society that places tremendous emphasis on hierarchy, self-restraint, and civility. Over the course of the novel, he seduces a string of women, gambles, binges, joins a Communist cell, attempts suicide, and succumbs to heroin addiction, all while donning the mask of “the farcical eccentric” to conceal his “melancholy” and “agitation” from the very people whose lives he ruins.

Though the novel is filled with incident, its unreliable narrator and relentless interiority make it difficult to effectively retell in a comic format, as Junji Ito’s adaptation demonstrates. Ito’s No Longer Human is largely faithful to the events of Dazai’s novel, but takes Dazai’s spare, haunting narrative and transforms it into a phantasmagoria of sex, drugs, and death. In his efforts to show us how Yozo feels, Ito leans so hard into grotesque, oddly literal imagery that the true horror of Yozo’s story is overshadowed by Ito’s artwork—a mistake, I think, as Ito’s drawings reduce the character’s existential crisis to nightmarish images, rather than help us understand what it means to be someone who exists, in Peter Selgin’s words, in a state of “complete dissociation… yet still capable of feeling.”

In Ito’s defense, it’s not hard to see what attracted him to Dazai’s text; Yozo’s narration is peppered with the kind of vivid analogies that, at first glance, seem ideally suited for a visual medium like comics. But a closer examination of the text reveals the extent to which these analogies are part of the narrator’s efforts to beguile the reader by suggesting that his mind is filled with such monstrous ideas that he cannot be expected to function like a normal person. There’s a tension between how Yozo describes his own reactions to the ordinary unpleasantness of interacting with other people, and how Yozo describes the impact of his behavior on other people—a point that Ito overlooks in choosing to flesh out some key events in the novel.

Nowhere is that more evident than in Yozo’s brief affair with Tsuneko, a destitute waitress. After hitting rock bottom financially and emotionally, Yozo persuades her to join him in a double suicide pact. Dazai’s summary of what happens is shocking in its brevity and matter-of-factness:

As I stood there hesitating, she got up and looked inside my wallet. ‘‘Is that all you have?” Her voice was innocent, but it cut me to the quick. It was painful as only the voice of the first woman I had ever loved could be painful. “Is that all?” No, even that suggested more money than I had — three copper coins don’t count as money at all. This was a humiliation more strange than any I had tasted before, a humiliation I could not live with. I suppose I had still not managed to extricate myself from the part of the rich man’s son. It was then I myself determined, this time as a reality, to kill myself.

We threw ourselves into the sea at Kamakura that night. She untied her sash, saying she had borrowed it from a friend at the cafe, and left it folded neatly on a rock. I removed my coat and put it in the same spot. We entered the water together.

She died. I was saved.

As Ito recounts this event, however, Tsuneko’s death is caused by a poison so painful to ingest that she collapses in a writhing heap, eyes bulging and tongue wagging as if she were in the throes of becoming a monster herself. Yozo’s reaction to the poison, by contrast, is to plunge into a hallucinatory state in which a parade of ghostly women mock and berate him, an artistic choice that suggests Yozo feels shame and guilt for his actions—and a reading of Dazai’s text that makes Yozo seem more deserving of sympathy than he does in Dazai’s novel:

Throughout this vignette, Yozo’s contempt for Tsuneko creeps into the narrative, even as he assures the reader that she was the first woman he truly loved. Yet Yozo’s disdain is palpable, as is evident in the way he off-handedly introduces her to the reader:

I was waiting at a sushi stall back of the Ginza for Tsuneko (that, as I recall, was her name, but the memory is too blurred for me to be sure: I am the sort of person who can forget even the name of the woman with whom he attempted suicide) to get off from work.

Only a few episodes capture the spirit of Dazai’s original novel, as when Yozo’s father gives an inept speech to a gathering of businessmen and community leaders. Ito skillfully cross-cuts between three separate conversations, allowing us to step into Yozo’s shoes as he eavesdrops on the attendees, servants, and family members, all of whom speak disparagingly about each other, and the speech. By pulling back the curtain on these conversations, Ito helps the reader appreciate the class and power differences among these groups, as well as revealing that this episode was a turning point for Yozo: the moment when he first realized that adults maintain certain masks in public that they discard in private. Though this discovery can be a painful one for children—one need only think of Holden Caulfield’s obsession with adult “phoniness”—this discovery plunges Yozo into a state of despair, as he cannot imagine how anyone reconciles their public and private selves in a truthful way.

Ito also wisely restores material from Dazai’s novel that other adaptors—most notably Usamaru Furuya—trimmed from their versions. In particular, Ito does an excellent job of exploring the dynamic between Yozo and his classmate Takeichi, the first person who sees through Yozo’s carefully orchestrated buffoonery:

Just when I had begun to relax my guard a bit, fairly confident that I had succeeded by now in concealing completely my true identity, I was stabbed in the back, quite unexpectedly. The assailant, like most people who stab in the back, bordered on being a simpleton — the puniest boy in the class, whose scrofulous face and floppy jacket with sleeves too long for him was complemented by a total lack of proficiency in his studies and by such clumsiness in military drill and physical training that he was perpetually designated as an ‘‘onlooker.” Not surprisingly, I failed to recognize the need to be on my guard against him.

As one might guess from this passage, Yozo’s terror at being discovered is another critical juncture in the novel. “I felt as if I had seen the world before me burst in an instant into the raging flames of hell,” he reports, before embarking on a campaign to win Takeichi’s trust by “cloth[ing his] face in the gentle beguiling smile of the false Christian.” Though Ito can’t resist the temptation to draw an image of Yozo engulfed in hell fire, most of Yozo’s fear is conveyed in subtler ways: a wary glance at Takeichi, an extreme close-up of Yozo’s face, an awkwardly placed arm around Takeichi’s shoulder:

What happens next in Ito’s version of No Longer Human, however, is indicative of another problem with his adaptation: his decision to add new material. In Dazai’s novel, Takeichi simply disappears from the narrative when Yozo moves to Tokyo for college, but in Ito’s version, Yozo cruelly manipulates Takeichi into thinking that Yozo’s cousin Setchan is in love with him—a manipulation that ultimately leads to Takeichi’s humiliation and suicide. That violent death is followed by a gruesome murder, this time prompted by a love triangle involving Yozo, his “auntie,” and Setchan, who becomes pregnant with Yozo’s child. Neither of these episodes deepen our understanding of who Yozo really is; they simply add more examples of how manipulative and callous he can be, thus blunting the impact of the real tragedy that unfolds in the late stages of his story.

Ito’s most problematic addition, however, is Osamu Dazai himself. Ito replaces the novel’s original framing device with the events leading up to Dazai’s 1948 suicide, encouraging us to view No Longer Human as pure autobiography through reinforcing the parallels between Dazai’s life and Yozo’s. And while those parallels are striking, the juxtaposition of the author and his fictional alter ego ultimately distorts the meaning of the novel by suggesting that the story documents Dazai’s own unravelling. That’s certainly one way to interpret No Longer Human, but such an autobiographical reading misses Dazai’s broader themes about the burden of consciousness, the nature of self, and the difficulty of being a full, authentic, feeling person in modern society.

VIZ Media provided a review copy. You can read a brief preview at the VIZ website by clicking here. For additional perspectives on Junji Ito’s adaptation, see Serdar Yegulalp‘s excellent, in-depth review at Ganriki.org, Reuben Barron‘s review at CBR.com, and MinovskyArticle’s review at the VIZ Media website.

JUNJI ITO’S NO LONGER HUMAN • ORIGINAL NOVEL BY OSAMU DAZAI • BASED ON THE ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY DONALD KEENE • TRANSLATED AND ADAPTED BY JOCELYNE ALLEN • VIZ MEDIA • RATED M, FOR MATURE AUDIENCES • 616 pp.

By: Katherine Dacey

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

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lucidcupid67-blog · 5 years

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tua positivity post

Listen. I know these characters are all messed up in their own way, but I like to think about all the little quirks that make them more lovely than not. (Don't mind my little rant if you're not into it, I just have so many emotions.) Also - some spoilers.

Luther, for one (ha), is commonly viewed as controlling. It's a little true, I admit, but I also think he's a very protective person. As we see in episode 6, it just takes a little real-world common sense and an understanding soul to help him realize that he "doesn't need a mission to exist." He can be so tender and reasonable when he's not forced to play a role! (Caring for his plant bb on the moon, holding Diego to stop him from beating up 5, looking after 5 when he seems distressed, etc.) There's also an innocence there that I admire when it comes to doing the right or wrong thing, but also makes me shake my head when he takes it too far. You guys, he's really trying his best to be good. He just needs to take a breath and examine the situation he's in from a new perspective.

I've never really known how to feel about Diego, but I know that he has a lot of heart and passion for what he believes in. This might make him act irrational or even childlike sometimes, but it's not bad to have emotions the way he lets himself do. Although sometimes antagonistic towards Luther and Allison, I feel those attitudes stem from a sense of inadequacy as a child; Diego just wants to lead his siblings and protect them like Luther does. He wants a fair and just world, and he's not above taking the shit end of the stick in life to eventually make it to that point (getting a job as a janitor, joining the police force, etc.) We see that a lot through his relationship with Patch, I think. They had similar goals, just different methods.

Allison? I don't really feel like I've seen enough of her character to know her that well, but even though she has manipulated people for her gain, the regret she displays and her efforts to do better are so so important. I doubt there's a single person who wouldn't do the same in her position at least once. Resisting temptation in an attempt to build a real life for herself is a sign of commitment to reality, which is hard to find in 2019. Her efforts to be a good sister to Vanya are so sweet, too. She truly cares for her, which becomes so clear and blunt and obvious in the last few episodes. Not to mention how much she loves her daughter... She's such a caring woman.

Oh my GOD, Klaus though! I've heard so many good things as well as I've thought of them, despite the fact he didn't help Patch. Like, clearly he makes poor decisions. Sometimes he's not all there. But!! He's crazy empathetic for his family and cares for them so much. Comforting Diego when Grace dies the second time, comforting Allison when they got their tattoos, comforting Luther when he found out about his trip to the moon, helping 5 with his eye thing, trying to free Vanya, his kindness towards Ben... Just so much emotion and empathy and devotion. And he never treats Vanya lesser than himself, most likely because they both were treated similarly. Think about it! Klaus has a power, but in terms of usefulness? I'm just saying... His family makes him the lookout for a reason. Him and Vanya both want attention and to be a part of the group. And all the things he went through... All that trauma, I wish he would talk to people about it. He talks so much, but never about the deep stuff because no one listens. After all, "does it matter? it's Klaus." Please give him some real self worth and not the fabricated, showy kind.

Five is such a great character, too. One of my favorites if I'm being honest. So much irritation and controlled rage in such a small body, christ on a cracker. I don't want to belittle his obvious skills and maturity at ALL because it's a source of tension for him, but I just think he's so cute. He could do with some more genuine happiness, like in his loving relationship with Delores. Not to mention he's so smart and calculating! He's creative and responsible and resourceful and /snarky/ and I'm so here for it. I'm so sad that he feels he doesn't belong anywhere (like all his siblings, come to think of it), because he deserves that much after all the isolation and horrible things he had to do to get back to his family... It all makes him appear so cold and callous, but his family understands how much he really cares. They know who he really is.

Ben is just fantastic. A bookish, witty, caring boy that never got the chance to grow up in the land of the living. Despite that, he very clearly serves as a voice of reason for his brother in his toughest times. He was their support, their encouragement, their glue. Everyone always has something kind to say in his memory. I think the fact that he still acts boyish outside of his wisdom-filled speeches is so adorable and so accurate for a teenage boy. Let him enjoy the wild side of life too, you cowards.

And lastly, Vanya. That poor girl. That brave woman. Despite all of the abuse and the lack of affection or care, she still grew to realize that she deserves a spot in life, too. She deserves the same chance as everyone else. She's sweet, she's thoughful, she's observant, she's talented, she's funny... You can see it if you just look for it through all the repressed and shameful emotions. She knows everything about her siblings: where Luther and Allison went when they were sad, Diego's attachment to Grace, Klaus' drug problems, Five's favorite snacks, Ben's place in the house as their support system, all of it. I just wish she could have felt more a part of it herself, y'know? I mean clearly Five cared for her because he called out for her when he got lost in time, just like he did for Ben and his dad, too. She deserves all the love and DEFINITELY a better relationship than what she had with Harold.

#tua #a few spoilers

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rochellespen · 5 years

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Watching Doctor Who Season 37 (Series 11), Episode Four

Ok, I’m going to have to say it: Doctor Who has a checkered past in regards to spiders.

I mean, I understand the temptation to go with arachnid-like monsters. Spiders often creep people out, so giant, mutant spiders should have an even greater horror vibe to them. Unfortunately, it seems arachnids of all sorts never fare well when appearing in Doctor Who.

Thus we have comically stiff spiders with goofy voices in Planet of the Spiders. We have genuinely threatening, but also drama-queen diva spiders in the meh The Runaway Bride. And then you have what could have been truly creepy spider-like creatures in Kill the Moon which were wasted by being featured in a dire episode like Kill the Moon.

So when I saw the title of this one, I had to resist the temptation to roll my eyes. And not just because we got another music pun/reference in an episode title (first Bowie and now the Sex Pistols...). I figured we could be in for some very first class cheese with this one.

All that said, I decided to give Arachnids in the UK a go with as open of a mind as possible.

As usual, spoilers from here onward....

Episode Thoughts

This episode went back to the season opener’s structure of having things happen that appear unrelated at first, but quickly fit together into a main plotline well before the episode ends. It’s a smart technique as it can help to cover any thinness to the plot.

We start with Robertson, a guy who is suspiciously similar to another hotel-owning, multi-millionaire businessman with a crass, harsh personality who decided to run for president. Seriously, not since The Happiness Patrol have we been given such a painfully obvious reference to a real-life political figure on Doctor Who.

And wait, is that Chris Noth? Why yes, yes it is. That’s something I seriously did not expect and it’s fun to see him in this. XD

Anyway, Citizen Robertson here rants about a possible threat to his political future and fires a random employee for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. This actually turns out to be not so random later on....

(Side note: They do name drop Trump later in the episode with Robertson mentioning that he can’t stand the guy. I guess that’s one way to deflect the obvious....XD)

Meanwhile, the Doctor actually manages to get her companions back to their correct time and place and soon appears to regret her efficiency. Fortunately for her, Yasmin is up for inviting everyone to tea which everyone immediately accepts.

After wonderfully awkward moments with Yasmin’s family and some poignant moments alone with Graham, we finally get to the spiders. Well sort of. We just get one spider to start out with, but there was plenty of foreshadowing before that to let us know that it won’t just be one spider.

Soon, the plot ties together when we realize that it was Yasmin’s mother who got fired and a neighbor of Yasmin’s family has a friend/co-worker/? who is a specialist in regards to spiders and who is worried that she hasn’t shown up for a few days. This eventually leads to a showdown in the lavish, recently finished hotel between humans and arachnids.

Some more quick side notes....

The hotel they chose for the principal location is a good one. It has the right Overlook Hotel vibe to it which is perfect to accentuate the horror in this episode.

Ok, having Yasmin’s mom be the one who got fired by Robertson is a solid way to tie the plot together. Having an arachnid expert be friends with someone who lived in the same building as Yasmin’s family and having her show up just as the Doctor starts to investigate teeters dangerously toward deus ex machina territory.

But on a much funnier note, did anyone else notice someone (Ryan, I think?) making shadow puppets in the background while the Doctor and McIntyre were talking about Serious Spider Stuff in McIntyre’s lab? That’s the sort of offhand detail that I just love...

Now, back to the rest of the episode...

As can be expected with someone like Robertson, all of his employees are taken out by the spiders leaving the Doctor, her companions, Yasmin’s mom, Naija, and our new friend, Dr. McIntyre to find out that there’s is both abandoned coal mines underneath the hotel (which is niffty for the spiders to get around) and a toxic landfill that was very poorly managed.

Ok, at this point I need to stop to consider something that’s bothering me about the plot.

I think we can all agree that Robertson is a terrible person and was horribly negligent in allowing the landfill to combine stuff willy nilly. But if we’re going to assign blame for the mutant spiders, shouldn’t some of it be placed on McIntyre and her lab? These scientist are manipulating spider DNA and apparently not being careful enough in making sure the specimens are dead before disposal. Even if Robertson didn’t have an unusually toxic landfill mutating these spiders further, those half-dead “super spiders” could have wrecked havoc on local ecosystems. Thus, I hardly think McIntyre should be acting like she’s on some sort of moral high ground compared to Robertson.

In the end, it’s decided that it’s more humane(?) to suffocate/starve all the baby spiders in Robertson’s panic room and drive the huge mother spider out of the hotel...to where, I don’t know. However, Robertson clearly wanted a chance to kill something and thus, shoots the giant spider before it can asphyxiate.

This leads to another little issue I have. The Doctor and McIntyre were just going to watch that giant spider slowly suffocate and die. Robertson shot it once and put it out of its misery quickly. I guess I’m at a loss as to how Robertson’s solution in and of itself is crueler than a slow death.

And the thing is, I think the writers missed an opportunity here. Having Robertson clearly show no remorse for what he did was chilling enough. But I think we could have added an even more sinister edge to his character if it was made clear that his decision to shoot the spider would be considered merciful and correct by many and that it wasn’t a black and white decision.

That way, the horrifying aspect of his character would not have been what he did but instead the mindset and motives of why he did it. Few things are more evil that someone who hides their malevolence under the guise of good intentions.

After that painfully abrupt ending, the Doctor prepares to leave and discovers, much to her surprise and delight, that Graham, Ryan and Yasmin aren’t ready to say goodbye to her and traveling through time and space.

So did Arachnids in the UK avoid the usual trap of tacky spider themed episodes? Well.....

The thing is, there are several things this episode did right. The number one was a wonderful mix of humor and lowkey scares. We get moments like Ryan and Graham’s two man comedy act leading up to a terribly creepy shot of several giant spiders skittering toward them. The atmosphere of the hotel and some well placed jump scares are balanced by the hilarious sight of mutant spiders gravitating a energetic grime tune (actually listened to it again while writing this, and it really set the mood).

The problem for me has to be the easy out the plot took. I get wanting to keep this an Earth-bound problem (and making an eco-statement). But the separating of the so-called “good guys” and “bad guys” wasn’t neatly done and the ending felt far too much like the writers couldn’t think of a good solution in the time they had left.

Thus, this episode works far better as a showcase for humor, atmosphere and characterization than it does as a carefully plotted story.

Character Thoughts

So how about that characterization then?

Two things were well defined in this episode.

The Doctor is going to continue to be socially awkward, high-energy goofball.

This Doctor is not one who wants to brood by themselves somewhere even for a few moments. She clearly is one of those Doctor who vastly prefers to travel with companions.

Continuing in the tradition of each Doctor often being a “reaction” to the previous one, Thirteen is certainly far less prickly and much more openly social than Twelve. She seems to thrive on the “family” environment a crowded TARDIS creates. The only Doctor I can compare that to is probably Five who also seemed very invested in traveling with a group although there is far, far more harmony on Thirteen’s TARDIS than there ever was on Five’s.

Myself, I’m enjoying a return to the idea of the Doctor being warmer and more familial as I never thought being difficult and prickly were necessary solely to create a sense of “otherness” about the Doctor. Whittaker still manages this with Thirteen’s scattershot, quirky approach to experiencing new places, people and events.

A lot of the humor in this episode was pulled off nicely by Whittaker whether it’s the cringing moments of awkward around Yasmin’s family or her sudden thought that The Spider Mother in the Ballroom could be “the best novel Edith Wharton never wrote.”

Meanwhile, Ryan and Graham also have some wonderful bits together as they (very reluctantly) keep having to go out on spider-related missions in the hotel. The two of them continue to be a fun team who are slowly trying to figure out this family “thing” they have been thrust into.

Funnily enough, while on the surface this could look like an episode that would focus more on Yasmin since we are spending time with her family....it really doesn’t. The most we get is some insight as to why she wants to travel with the Doctor: because she loves her family, but clearly doesn’t always get along with them that great. I think this is another opportunity the writers missed as we could have gotten a bit more insight into how her family played a role in the person she became. Instead, their presence seems to mainly service the plot (Naija) or try to add to the humor (the rest of her family).

The Last Word

I’m afraid Doctor Who may never have a completely solid episode featuring spiders....even with this effort. This is episode is a fun ride most of the time with some great moments of humor and characterization, so it manages to not be truly cringe-y. However, it would have been nice if the writers had put more thought into how to end the main plotline and found more interesting ways to develop Yasmin’s family and by extension Yasmin herself.

#Doctor Who #thirteenth doctor #series eleven musings #arachnids in the uk

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baroquespiral · 6 years

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The secret plot of the Star Wars new trilogy

SuperMechaGodzilla:

as others have noted, the current trend for the big studios is to begin with the structure of a standard narrative and then completely refashion the film with focus group testing and other modifications. The overall goal is marketing. In Jurassic World, for example, the narrative was originally about a bully who deliberately endangers his little brother in an effort to ‘toughen up him up’ (exactly the same motivation as Avengers 4 Thano, as it happens). This narrative was cut from the film because it made the kid ‘too unlikeable’. The result is a film where the plot is the same, but everything happens for no reason.

I’m pretty sure I’ve found the narrative that was cut from the new Star Wars trilogy, in which (even the parts of it I like) a lot of things happen for no reason. I like to imagine reams of production documents are now pockmarked with black bars where a single wildly unmarketable word was redacted: midi-chlorians. Since time immemorial, a species of sentient, psychic microbes has been capable of communing directly with the cosmic Force. Humans encountered them and their amazing powers in some of their earliest off-planet ventures. Midi-chlorians taught - or at least, transmitted to - us the genuine spiritual core of the earliest Jedi teachings (interconnectedness and all that). They also tried to teach us how to tap into the Force the same way they do. But that was too hard, and kind of terrifying. Instead, humans did what’s always come easiest to us: effectively enslaved midi-chlorians to use the Force for us. I don’t quite grasp the exact specifics of how this works, but the movies wouldn’t need you to either, that’s tie-in material. Midi-chlorians don’t really have the stable personal ego humans evolved for our particular pack hunter reasons. They’re a kind of rhizomatic fractal hive-mind, and can experience others’ consciousness directly through the Force, and imprint mental states around them. The basic Jedi teachings describe techniques of focus that prevent the midi-chlorians from distinguishing your subjectivity from their own while also issuing direct, undeniable commands in accordance with your (perfectly rational, of course) desires. With the massive application of these techniques, their original hivemind was suppressed and they became symbiotic on humans. The problem is they also imprint strong emotions really easily - without necessarily integrating them into the same web of context that constitutes a human ego. So the Jedi paranoia of emotion is a precaution against turning your midi-chlorian-infested psyche into a giant echo chamber/feedback loop.

Absent a host they will float around looking for a sufficiently Force-sensitive human (they may even have devolved to the point of needing a human host to reproduce), and they’re now sufficiently dispersed to find pretty much all of them. They’re also immortal - at least, in the same sense as any asexual microorganism; while their population was probably somewhat controlled under the Republic, the overall number of midi-chlorians in the galaxy is slowly increasing - and they pass from one human to another (often the original’s offspring) if their current host dies. (Midi-chlorians are the reason Force “dynasties” like the Skywalkers exist.) The Sith Rule of Two works because the remaining two Sith Lords deliberately gather the midi-chlorians accreting to others, and pass down these massive midi-chlorian swarms to their apprentices. Darth Plagueis discovered the key to immortality through managing to imprint his full consciousness onto his midi-chlorians. Sidious successfully suppressed his master’s consciousness when inheriting his midi-chlorians, but it was still there, and after his death, not only was Plagueis free - he imprinted & assimilated the remainder of the historic midi-chlorian bloom that Anakin Skywalker hadn’t passed on to Luke & Leia. (Their birth, taking a substantial part of his midi-chlorians, is also the reason Darth Vader seems so much weaker than the Chosen One was set up to be.) As a conscious midi-chlorian swarm, Plagueis spread himself around the universe, in two main concentrations: most of his original midi-chlorians, which he forced into a random occultist to use as a temporary body while he searched for an actually suitable host, mutating and disfiguring the individual who would become Snoke; and the legacy of Anakin Skywalker, which he sent to Luke’s new Jedi Academy. The darkness Luke sensed was Plagueis/Anakin’s midi-chlorians. He identified Ben Solo early on as the most capable of sustaining his full power, and slowly, slowly tempted him with the influence of small numbers of midi-chlorians, manifesting first as dreams and inexplicable feelings of identification towards Anakin Skywalker. To be clear, in terms of moral implications this was little different from careful human-to-human psychological manipulation. He didn’t possess or control Ben, which would have risked both rejection by Ben’s own midi-chlorians and immediately alerting Luke. But as Ben became more consciously open to the Dark Side and obsessed with Anakin, he introduced more and more of Anakin’s midi-chlorians to his system - while also opening a line of Force communication with Snoke to divert suspicion if he was discovered. Eventually Luke became aware of this. But he was also under the influence of some of Plagueis/Anakin’s midi-chlorians - I like to think they activated Anakin’s own guilt at turning to the Dark Side, resonating with Luke’s conflicted feelings about his decision to show mercy to his father*, to nudge him into responding with violence instead of investigating further. You know what happens next.

Now here’s Rey’s special Mary Sue deal: she doesn’t use midi-chlorians. She discovered intuitively, possibly via Worm-esque traumatic ego-death experience at a young age, how to tap into the Force directly: that’s what “The Force Awakens” means. This means her power isn’t limited by her midi-chlorian count, but requires a completely different methodology to harness - particularly, a different relationship to her own consciousness, characterized primarily by honestness with her own feelings, since she has the benefit - and risk - of a clear line of communication to the Force. All of this could still come out in the third movie, but if they were planning to they could have done the plot and thematization of the second a lot more effectively imo. To wit: at the end, when Kylo realizes where Rey gets her power and they kill Snoke, instead of (as he had already been planning) assimilating all of Plagueis’ midi-chlorians, Kylo expels them from his body, choosing to take control of his own destiny. As in TLJ, he’s still a fascist; he consciously chose to respond to Plagueis’ temptations, and even if he hadn’t, he doesn’t have some innocent “true personality” underlying Plagueis’ influence as if all those years never happened. But he’s now more impressed by Rey (true self-directed übermensch) than Anakin (clueless dupe of Sidious, of Plagueis, of his own emotions alienated from him via his enormous midi-chlorian count). With his own, newly awakened Force power, he beats Luke’s midi-chlorians fair and square. Luke has accepted as much; after discovering Rey, he and Yoda’s midi-chlorians had finally chosen to burn the Ancient Jedi Texts that described the original midi-chlorian encounter, the basic mechanics of midi-chlorian assimilation, and the Jedi tradition based on it. Third movie setup: this is where the galaxy is really in dire straits. Without any hosts capable of supporting his full power, Plagueis has become a literal plague, taking control of multitudes and assimilating all the midi-chlorians he can find. The galaxy has surrendered unilaterally to martial law under the First Order as the only bulwark against the omnipresent threat of Force-zombies. Some elements of the Resistance, including at least one main character (Finn?), has been offered amnesty in exchange for cooperation. He’s reformed the First Order to be slightly less evil than it was under Snoke, and preferable to business-as-usual for many, but it’s still fascist. Others are reduced to little more than nihilistic individual freebooters (Poe?). But Rey is training a new order of Force-sensitives to awaken the Force within themselves directly and fight Plagueis by themselves, proving to the galaxy that there is another option. (The only way you could conventionally resolve this scenario in a movie's runtime might also be thematically convenient - someone unlocks the dormant species-being of the swarm itself. Although this would violate the rule that you can’t actually show post-capitalism onscreen.) Anyway, besides the fact that nobody wants to hear about “midi-chlorians” any more, I suspect there’s another reason they suppressed this plot: because it would have made the anti-capitalist message too obvious. Midi-chlorians aren’t just a reification of the Force as text, they’re reification in-universe. Using them alienates you from your own connection to the life-stream of the universe. (obviously informed by @bambamramfan‘s analysis)

#star wars #Star Wars theory #Star Wars new trilogy #the force awakens #the last jedi #midi-chlorians

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claudinei-de-jesus · 3 years

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Satan

Some claim that there is no such being, the devil; but after observing the evil that exists in the world, it is logical to ask: "Who continues to do the work of Satan during his absence, if he does not exist? The scriptures reveal to us:

1. Its origin.

Read Isa. 14: 12-15; Ezeq. 28: 12-19. The popular conception of a horned, crowbar, and horrible-looking devil had its origins in pagan mythology and not in the Bible. According to Scripture, Satan was originally Lucifer (literally, "the one who brings light"), the most glorious of angels. But he proudly aspired to be "like the Most High" and fell into "the condemnation of the devil" (1 Tim. 3: 6). Note the historical background in chapters 14 of Isaiah and 28 of Ezekiel. Many have asked, "Why are the kings of Babylon and Tyreus mentioned first, before the fall of Satan is reported?" The answer is: the prophet described Satan's fall for a practical purpose. Some of the kings of Babylon and Tire claimed worship as divine beings, which is blasphemy (See Dan. 3: 1-12; Rev. 13:15; Ezek. 28: 2; Acts 12: 20-23), and did of his subjects the game of his cruel ambition. In order to admonish those, the inspired prophets of God removed the veil from the dark past and described the fall of the rebellious angel, who said: "I will be like God." This is the practical lesson: If God punished the blasphemous pride of this high-ranking angel, how can he stop judging any king who dares to usurp his place? Notice how Satan sought to infect our first parents with his pride. (See Ge 3: 5; Isa. 14:14). Let us note how frustrated pride and ambition still consume him, to the point of wanting to be worshiped (Matt. 4: 9) as "god of this world" (2 Cor. 4: 4), an ambition that will be temporarily satisfied when he incarnates the antichrist. . (Rev. 13: 4.) As a punishment for his wickedness, Satan was cast out of heaven, along with a group of angels that he had enlisted in his rebellion. (Matt. 25:41; Rev. 12: 7; Ephesians 2: 2; Matt. 12:24.) He sought to win Eve as his ally; however, God thwarted the plan and said, "I will put enmity between you and the woman" (Gen. 3:15).

2. Your character.

The qualifications of Satan's character are indicated by the following titles and names by which he is known:

(a) Satan literally means "adversary" and describes his malicious and persistent attempts to obstruct God's purposes. This opposition was manifested especially in his attempts to thwart God's plan by seeking to destroy the chosen lineage, from which the Messiah would come - an activity predicted in Gen. 3:15. And from the beginning he has persisted in this struggle. Cain, Eve's first son, "was of the evil one and killed his brother" (1 John 3:12).

God gave Eve another son, Sete, who became the chosen seed from which the Deliverer of the world would proceed. But the venom of the serpent was still having an effect on the human race, and, over time, the lineage of Sete gave in to bad influences and deteriorated. The result was the universal wickedness that resulted in the Flood. God's plan, however, was not frustrated because there was at least one righteous person, Noah, whose family became the origin of a new race. In this way Satan's purpose of destroying the human race and impeding God's plan failed.

From Shem, son of Noah, Abraham, the progenitor of a chosen people, descended through which God would save the world. Naturally the enemy's efforts were directed against this particular family. One writer traces Satan's cunning opposition in the following incidents: Ishmael's opposition to Isaac, Esau's intention to kill Jacob; and Pharaoh's oppression of the Israelites. Satan is described as seeking to destroy the church in two ways: inwardly, by introducing false teachings (1 Tim. 4: 1; see Matt. 13: 38,39), and outwardly by persecution (Rev. 2:10).

This was the case with Israel, the Old Testament church of God. The worship of the golden calf at the beginning of its national life is a typical case that has constantly occurred throughout its history; and in the book of Esther we have an example of an effort made to destroy the chosen people. But God's chosen people have survived both the corruption of idolatry and the fury of the persecutor, and this is because of the divine grace that has always preserved a faithful remnant. When the time was up, the Redeemer came into the world, and the evil Herod planned to kill him; however, once again God prevailed and Satan's plan failed.

In the desert, Satan sought to oppose the Anointed One of God and divert him from his saving mission, but he was defeated; and his Conqueror "went about doing good, and healing all the oppressed of the devil." This secular conflict will reach its climax when Satan incarnates in the antichrist and is destroyed at the time of Christ's coming.

(b) Devil literally means "slanderer". Satan is called that because he slanders both God (Gen. 3: 2,4,5) and man (Rev. 12:10; John 1: 9; Zac. 3: 1, 2; Luc. 22:31) .

(c) Destroyer is the meaning of the word "Apollyon" (Greek), "Abaddon" (Hebrew) (Rev. 9:11). Filled with hatred against the Creator and his works, the devil wanted to establish himself as the god of destruction.

(d) Snake. "That ancient serpent, called the devil" (Rev. 12: 9) reminds us of the one who, in antiquity, used a serpent as his agent to bring about the fall of man.

(it's tempting. (Matt. 4: 3.) "Trying" literally means to prove or test, and the term is also used in connection with God's dealings (Gen. 22: 1). But, while God tests men for their own good - to purify and develop their character - Satan tempts them with the malicious purpose of destroying them.

(f) Prince and god of this world. (John 12:31; 2 Cor. 4: 4.) These titles suggest their influence on organized society outside or apart from the influence of God's will. "The whole world is in the evil one" (in the power of the evil one) (1 John 5:19) and is influenced by him. (1 John 2:16.) The Scriptures describe the world as a vast set of human activities, the trilogy of which is summed up in these words: fame, pleasure and goods.

To these three objectives everything is subordinate. Skillful arguments in defense of them create the illusion of being truly worthy. These objectives also enjoy the advantage of a vast literary, commercial and governmental apparatus, which constantly demands from the citizens of the world the cult of these objectives, which, in their minds, are associated with the highest values. The applause of the people is dedicated to those who succeed. The judgment of things is by the apparent aspect and success, based on false postulates of honor and by false ideas of pleasure, values and the dignity of wealth. Furthermore, there is a strong appeal to the lower instincts of our nature, a call that pretends to be in language (?)

3. Your activities.

(a) The nature of the activities. Satan disturbs the work of God (1 Thess. 2:18); opposes the Gospel (Matt. 13:19; 2 Cor. 4: 4); dominates, blinds, deceives and snares the wicked (Luke 22: 3; 2 Cor. 4: 4; Rev. 20: 7, 8; 1 Tim. 3: 7). He afflicts (John 1:12) and tries (1 Thess. 3: 5) the saints of God. He is described as presumptuous (Matt. 4: 4, 5); proud (1 Tim. 3: 6); powerful (Eph. 2: 2); evil (John 2: 4); cunning (Gen. 3: 1 and 2 Cor. 11: 3); deceiver (Eph. 6:11); fierce and cruel (1 Pet. 5: 8).

(b) The sphere of activities. The devil does not limit his operations to the wicked and the depraved. He often acts in the higher circles as "an angel of light" (2 Cor. 11:14). Indeed, he even attends religious meetings, which is indicated by his presence in the gathering of angels (John chapter 1), and by the use of the terms: "doctrines of demons" (1 Tim. 4: 1) and "the synagogue of Satan "(Rev. 2: 9). Often his agents pose as "ministers of justice" (2 Cor. 11:15). The reason that he attends religious meetings is his malicious attempt to destroy the church, because he knows that once the salt of the earth loses its flavor, man becomes a victim in his unscrupulous hands.

(c) the reason for the activities. Why is Satan so interested in our ruin? José Hussiein replies: "He hates the image of God in us. He hates even the human nature that we possess, with which the Son of God was clothed. He hates the external glory of God, for the promotion of which we have been created and for which we will achieve our own eternal happiness. He hates his own happiness, for which we are destined, because he himself has lost it forever. He hates us for a thousand reasons and he envies us. " Thus said an ancient Jewish scribe: "Out of the devil's envy death came into the world: and those who follow him are beside him."

(d) Activity restrictions. While recognizing that Satan is strong, we must be careful not to exaggerate his power. For those who believe in Christ, he is already a defeated enemy (John 12:31), and he is strong only for those who give in to temptation. Despite his roaring fury he is a coward, for James said, "Resist the devil and he will flee from you" (Aunt. 4: 7). It has power, but limited. he cannot try (Matt. 4: 1), afflict (John 1:16), kill (John 2: 6; Heb. 2:14), or touch the believer without God's permission.

4. Your destiny.

From the beginning God predicted and decreed the defeat of that power that had caused man to fall (Gen. 3:15), and the serpent's punishment to the dust of the earth was a prophetic glimpse of the degradation and final defeat of this "old serpent, the devil". Satan's career is always on the decline. In the beginning he was expelled from heaven; during the Tribulation he will be thrown from the heavenly sphere to the earth (Rev. 12: 9); during the Millennium he will be imprisoned in the abyss, and after a thousand years, he will be thrown into the lake of fire (Rev. 20:10). In this way, the Word of God assures us of the final defeat of evil. ... Satanãs

Alguns afirmam que não existe tal ser, o diabo; mas depois de observar-se o mal que existe no mundo, é lógico que se pergunte: "Quem continua a fazer a obra de Satanás durante a sua ausência, se é que ele não existe? As escrituras nos revelam:

1. Sua origem.

Leia Isa. 14: 12-15; Ezeq. 28: 12-19. A concepção popular de um diabo com chifres, pés de cabra, e de aparência horrível teve sua origem na mitologia pagã e não na Bíblia. De acordo com as Escrituras, Satanás era certo Lúcifer (literalmente, "o que leva luz"), o mais glorioso dos anjos. Mas ele, orgulhosamente, aspirou a ser "como o Altíssimo" e caiu na "condenação do diabo" (1 Tim. 3: 6). Notemos os antecedentes históricos nos capítulos 14 de Isaias e 28 de Ezequiel. Muitos têm perguntado: "Por que os reis da Babilônia e de Tiro são importantes, antes de relatar-se a queda de Satanás?" A resposta é: o profeta enunciadosu a queda de Satanás tendo em vista um propósito prático. Alguns dos reis de Babilônia e Tiro reivindicaram adoração como seres divinos, o que é uma blasfêmia (Vide Dan. 3: 1-12; Apoc. 13:15; Ezeq. 28: 2; Atos 12: 20-23), e faziam de seus súditos o jogo de sua ambição cruel. Para poder admoestar os tais, os inspirados profetas de Deus afastaram o véu do obscuro passado e descreveram a queda do anjo rebelde, que disse: "Eu ser igual a Deus." Esta é uma lição prática: Se Deus castigou o blasfemo orgulho desse anjo de tão alta categoria, como deixar de julgar a qualquer rei que se atreva a usurpar o seu lugar? Notemos como Satanás preparo contagiar nossos primeiros pais com o seu orgulho. (Vide Gên 3: 5; Isa. 14:14). Notemos como o frustrado orgulho e ambição ainda o consomem, um ponto de desejar ser adorado (Mat. 4: 9) como "deus deste mundo" (2 Cor. 4: 4), uma ambição que temporariamente será satisfeita quando ele encarnar o anticristo . (Apo. 13: 4.) Como castigo por sua maldade, Satanás foi lançado fora do céu, juntamente com um grupo de anjos que ele havia alistado em sua rebelião. (Mat. 25:41; Apoc. 12: 7; Efés. 2: 2; Mat. 12:24.) Ele espera ganhar Eva como sua aliada; porém, Deus frustrou o plano e disse: "Porei inimizade entre ti e a mulher" (Gên. 3:15).

2. Seu caráter.

As qualificações do caráter de Satanás são indicadas pelos seguintes nomes e nomes pelos quais é conhecido:

(a) Satanás significa literalmente "adversário" e ensaios seus intentos maliciosos e persistentes de obstruir os propósitos de Deus. Essa distinção se manifesta especialmente nas suas restrições ao plano de Deus ao procurar destruir uma linhagem escolhida, da qual viria o Messias - atividade predita em Gên. 3:15. E desde o princípio ele tem persistido nesta luta. Caim, o primeiro filho de Eva, "era do maligno e matou a seu irmão" (1 João 3:12).

Deus deu a Eva outro filho, Sete, que veio a ser a semente escolhida da qual procederia o Libertador do mundo. Mas o veneno da serpente ainda estava surtindo efeito na raça humana, e, no transcurso do tempo a linhagem de Sete cedeu às más influências e se deteriorou. O resultado foi uma impiedade universal da qual resultou o Dilúvio. O plano de Deus, não obstante, não foi frustrado porque havia pelo menos uma pessoa justa, Noé, cuja família se tornou origem de uma nova raça. Dessa maneira fracassou o propósito de Satanás de destruir a raça humana e impedir o plano de Deus.

De Sem, filho de Noé, descendeu Abraão, o progenitor de um povo escolhido, por meio do qual Deus salvaria o mundo. Naturalmente os esforços do inimigo se dirigem contra esta família em particular. Certo escritor traça a astuta indicada de Satanás nos seguintes incidentes: A nomeação de Ismael a Isaque, a intenção de Esaú de matar Jacó; e a opressão de Faraó aos israelitas. Satanás é descrito como procurar destruir a igreja, de duas maneiras: interiormente, pela introdução de falsos ensinos (1 Tim. 4: 1; vide Mat. 13: 38,39), e exteriormente pela perseguição (Apoc. 2:10).

Foi o que se verificou com Israel, a igreja de Deus do Antigo Testamento. A adoração do abaixo de ouro no princípio de sua vida nacional é um caso típico de ocorrências ocorridas de toda a sua história; e no livro de Ester temos o exemplo de um esforço feito para destruir o povo escolhido. Mas o povo escolhido de Deus tem sobrevivido tanto à corrupção da idolatria, quanto à fúria do perseguidor, e isso por causa da graça divina que sempre tem preservado um restante fiel. Quando se cumpriu o tempo, o Redentor veio ao mundo, e o malvado Herodes planejou matá-lo; porém, mais uma vez Deus prevaleceu and the plan of Satanás fracassou.

No deserto, Satanás espera opor-se ao Ungido de Deus e desviá-lo de sua missão salvadora, porém foi derrotado; e seu Conquistador "andou fazendo o bem, e curando a todos os oprimidos do diabo". Este conflito secular chegará ao seu clímax quando Satanás se encarnar no anticristo e for destruído na ocasião da vinda de Cristo.

(b) Diabo significa literalmente "caluniador". Satanás é chamado assim porque calunia tanto a Deus (Gên. 3: 2,4,5) como ao homem (Apoc. 12:10; Jo 1: 9; Zac. 3: 1, 2; Luc. 22:31).

(c) Destruidor é o sentido da palavra "Apollyon" (grego), "Abaddon" (hebraico) (Apoc. 9:11). Cheio de ódio contra o Criador e suas obras, ou diabo desejava estabelecer-se como o deus da destruição.

(d) Serpente. "Essa antiga serpente, chamada o diabo" (Apoc. 12: 9) nos faz lembrar aquele, na antiguidade, como uma serpente como seu agente para ocasionar uma queda do homem.

(e) Tentador. (Mat. 4: 3.) "Tentar" significa literalmente provar ou testar, e o termo é usado também em relação aos tratos de Deus (Gên. 22: 1). Mas, enquanto Deus põe à prova os homens para seu próprio bem - para purificar e desenvolver o seu caráter - Satanás tenta-os com o propósito malicioso de destruir.

(f) Príncipe e deus deste mundo. (João 12:31; 2 Cor. 4: 4.) Esses graus de pontuação sua prioridade sobre a sociedade organizada fora ou à parte da influência da vontade de Deus. "Todo o mundo está no maligno" (no poder do maligno) (1 João 5:19) e está influenciado por ele. (1 João 2:16.) As Escrituras descrevem o mundo como sendo qual vasto conjunto de atividades humanas, cuja trilogia se resume a essas palavras: fama, prazer e bens.

A esses três objetivos tudo está subordinado. Hábeis argumentos em defesa dos mesmos criam a ilusão de serem realmente dignos. Esses objetivos gozam ainda da vantagem de vastíssimo aparato literário, comercial e governamental, o qualifica constantemente reclamações dos cidadãos do mundo o culto a esses objetivos, que, na mente, se associam aos mais elevados valores. Os aplausos do povo se dedicam àqueles que os conseguem. O juízes das coisas é pelo aspecto e o êxito aparentes, fundado sobre falsos postulados de honra e mediante falsas idéias de prazer, de valores e da dignidade da riqueza. Ademais, faz-se veemente apelo aos instintos inferiores da nossa natureza, apelo que se reveste da linguagem pretensamente (?)

3. Suas atividades.

(a) A natureza das atividades. Satanás perturba a obra de Deus (1 Tess. 2:18); opõe-se ao Evangelho (Mat. 13:19; 2 Cor. 4: 4); domina, cega, engana e laça os ímpios (Luc. 22: 3; 2 Cor. 4: 4; Apoc. 20: 7, 8; 1 Tim. 3: 7). Ele aflige (Jo 1:12) e tenta (1 Tess. 3: 5) os santos de Deus. Ele é descrito como presunçoso (Mat. 4: 4, 5); orgulhoso (1Tm 3: 6); poderoso (Efés. 2: 2); maligno (Jo 2: 4); astuto (Gên. 3: 1 e 2 Cor. 11: 3); enganador (Efés. 6:11); feroz e cruel (1 Ped. 5: 8).

(b) A esfera das atividades. O diabo não limita as suas operações aos ímpios e depravados. Muitas vezes idade nos círculos mais elevados como "um anjo de luz" (2 Cor. 11:14). Deveras, até assiste às reuniões religiosas, o que é indicado pela sua presença no ajuntamento dos anjos (Jo capítulo 1), e pelo uso dos termos: "doutrinas de demônios" (1 Tim. 4: 1) e "a sinagoga de Satanás "(Apoc. 2: 9). Freqüentemente seus agentes se fazem passar como "ministros de justiça" (2 Cor. 11:15). A razão que o leva a freqüentar as reuniões religiosas é o seu malicioso intento de destruir uma igreja, porque ele sabe que uma vez perdendo o sal da terra o seu sabor, o homem torna-se vitima nas suas mãos inescrupulosas.

(c) O motivo das atividades. Por que está tão interessado em nossa ruína? Responde José Hussiein: "Ele aborrece a imagem de Deus em nós. Odeia até mesmo a natureza humana que possuímos, com a qual se revestiu o Filho de Deus. Odeia a glória externa de Deus, para a promoção da qual temos sido criados e pela qual alcançaremos a nossa própria felicidade eterna. Ele odeia a própria felicidade, para a qual estamos prestando, porque ele mesmo a perdeu para sempre. Ele tem ódio de nós por mil razões e de nós tem inveja. " Assim disse um antigo escriba judeu: "Pela inveja do diabo veio a morte ao mundo: e os que seguem estão a seu lado."

(d) As restrições das atividades. Ao mesmo tempo que reconhecemos que Satanás é forte, devemos ter cuidado de não exagerar o seu poder. Para aqueles que crêem em Cristo, ele já é um inimigo derrotado (João 12:31), e é forte somente para aqueles que cedem à tentação. Apesar de sua fúria rugidora ele é um covarde, pois Tiago disse: "Resisti ao diabo e ele fugirá de vós" (Tia. 4: 7). Ele tem poder, porém limitado. não pode tentar (Mat. 4: 1), afligir (Jo 1:16), matar (Jo 2: 6; Hb 2:14), nem tocar no crente sem a permissão de Deus.

4. Seu destino.

Desde o princípio Deus predisse e decretou a derrota daquele poder que ocorreram a queda do homem (Gên. 3:15), e o castigo da serpente até o pó da terra foi um vislumbre profético da degradação e derrota final dessa "velha serpente, o diabo ". A carreira de Satanás está em descensão sempre. No princípio foi expulso do céu; durante a Tribulação será lançada da esfera celeste à terra (Apoc. 12: 9); durante o Milênio será aprisionado no abismo, e depois de mil anos, será lançado ao lago de fogo (Apoc. 20:10). Dessa maneira a Palavra de Deus nos locais a derrota final do mal.

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bibleversesblog · 3 years

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Get Your Printable For These Bible Verses on Self-Control

Proverbs 25:27-28

It is not good to eat too much honey, nor is it honorable to search out matters that are too deep. Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.

Honey itself is not a bad thing. It tastes so sweet and wonderful. Food is such a blessing when you eat it for the right reasons!

But it seems as humans, when we get a taste of something good, our appetite becomes insatiable and we crave more and more and more.

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Well, I’ve already had 3 cookies…what’s 1 more?”

That’s how the enemy works.

He convinces you that just a little bit more is okay. And then a little bit more after that.

Don’t be like a city whose walls are broken. Stand firm, knowing when enough is enough.

1 Corinthians 7:5

Do not deprive each other except perhaps by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer. Then come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.

This verse is referring to sex, but the concept of self-control here is the same.

As I mentioned about, small lapses in our judgement, giving in to just a little bit of temptation doesn’t always feel sinful.

It doesn’t always feel like we need to fight it.

When we give in to temptation once, even just a little bit, it’s like Satan sticking his foot in the door, giving him more power to tempt you even more.

That’s the lie of temptation. It tells you that when you give in, it’s going to feel so good and you’ll feel so satisfied…

But that satisfaction never comes and all you’re left with is that feeling that you want more.

1 Timothy 3:2-3

Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not given to drunkenness, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money.

In this verse, Timothy was explaining what they should look for in a person before appointing them as an overseer.

In their list of character traits, self-control is a biggie and applicable to just about everything else on the list.

It takes self-control to accomplish all of those things – staying faithful to your wife, keeping your cool in frustrating situations, not drinking too much, not losing your temper, not arguing (even when you think you’re right), and not becoming too focused on money.

2 Timothy 3:1-5

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people.

I included 5 verses here because they are all so powerful bible verses.

This is a strong warning to avoid people lacking self-control.

It uses strong wording, saying that people without self-control love pleasure more than God.

Yikes! I never want that to be something that defines me!

And the end of the verse instructs them to, “Have nothing to do with such people.”

Don’t be such people. Be an example of Christ that others can look up to.

Titus 2:11-12

For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age…”

Titus is full of encouragement to be self-controlled. It mentions that elders need to be self-controlled (Titus 1:8), older men should be taught to be self-controlled (Titus 2:2), older women need to be self-controlled (Titus 2:5), and younger men should be encouraged to be self-controlled, as well (Titus 2:6).

So, basically, the Bible says every age group of people really need to work on this character quality!

And this passage explains that it’s the grace of God that teaches us to say no to sin (because, I’m certainly not strong enough to resist without His help!).

2 Peter 1:5-8

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love.

For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

There is a growth process listed in this verse to help us live powerfully and purposefully.

Becoming a Christian is not the end of the road!

After you have faith, strive to add goodness, knowledge, self-control, and so on.

I want people to know how Jesus has transformed my life and developing self-control is an important way to prevent myself from being “ineffective and unproductive.”

2 Timothy 1:7

For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.

It’s crazy how often we let fear guide our decisions.

With money, food, and all kinds of other pleasures in life, there is this fear that there isn’t enough to go around.

Instead of gathering up as much of those things for ourselves as we possibly can, God calls us to live a different way.

He calls us to be content with what we have, knowing that He is our provider.

We don’t need to live in fear or timidity because the Hold Spirit is our source of all the power, love, self-discipline we need.

1 Corinthians 10:13

No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

This is my go-to verse when it comes to food cravings (and other temptations!).

It is a powerful reminder of a few different things.

#1 – I am not alone. Temptation can be so isolating if we believe we are the only one struggling.

#2 – I can do this. God is faithful and knows my limits. He won’t tempt me more than I can bear, which means He knows I have the strength to overcome it.

#3 – There is always another way. It makes sense in the moment to think that the only way to satisfy my (crazy) strong desire for Oreos is to give in and eat them, but there is always another way to respond to that urge.

I’m not saying it’s easy, but this verse reminds me to stop, think, and look for the way out of temptation.

Romans 12:1

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.

There is no denying that developing self-control requires sacrifice.

Often, we view sacrifice as just giving up something we really want. It’s about deprivation and missing out on happiness.

My pastor explains sacrifice differently.

He says sacrifice is giving up something you love for something you love more.

That really resonated with me. It’s helped me learn to offer my body as a living sacrifice in a way that honors God in my eating and worships Him in my exercise.

James 1:19-20

My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.

Self-control is a character trait that affects so many aspects of your life – your weight loss journey, the words you speak, the way you express frustration and anger.

The incredible thing about self-control is that when you improve it in one area (like making healthier food choices when you really want to eat a whole chocolate cake), it spreads to other areas.

You learn not to respond to your emotions and urges right away, so you become more patient and temperate in all things.

1 Corinthians 9:24-25

Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

We were all created for a unique purpose. It’s an incredible honor that God would create you and I to do good works to serve Him and others.

But all purposes in our lives require strict training – losing weight, learning to read, running a marathon, earning your PhD, and so much more.

Doing great things requires great self-control.

1 Corinthians 6:12

“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but I will not be mastered by anything.

Human freedom tells us, “Do whatever makes you happy. You deserve it.”

God knows that is not the best way to live and will never bring us true happiness anyways. He gives us healthy boundaries to enjoy the good things in life, but not to the point of excess.

You have the choice to live however you’d like. You can go eat a family size bag of Cheetos right now if you want to.

But just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

Food cravings have a way of starting small (“a cookie sounds good right now”) and growing into a monstrous problem that dictates our decisions (“you need to go through a drive-thru on your way home and toss the evidence before your husband can see”).

Be watchful that you aren’t being mastered by those things.

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

As humans, we love to be independence. We can’t wait to get our driver’s licenses, move out of the house, and earn our way in the world with promotions, certifications, and achievements.

We want to prove that we can do it all – balance family, run our schedules, find success.

We desperately try to hide any sign of weakness because that would show others that we are failing.

But God isn’t limited by our human standards.

If you are struggling with lapses in self-control due to temptation, cravings, and mistakes, know that God’s grace is still enough.

And when we admit our struggles and seek Him to fill in our gaps, it’s only then that we can be complete.

What an amazing God we serve who can work even more powerfully in our shortcomings!

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okimargarvez · 6 years

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HE’S NOT KEVIN

Original title: Lui non è Kevin.

Prompt: jealousy, Derek’s return.

Warnings: mention of Hotch’s death; the spoilers seemed to be CBS’s intention and not to put him in the witness protection program.

Genre: romantic, comedy, friendship.

Characters: Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, (Emily Prentiss).

Pairing: Garvez (Morcia).

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 💑😘👓👻⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

HE’S NOT KEVIN

Coming back after two years of absence is a strange experience.

On the one hand it's as if he had never left those rooms. It seems to him that until the day before he was making fun of the kid or arguing with Rossi about a baseball game.

But twenty-four months or so have passed since the last time his feet have been stepped on the floor of the BAU, since his finger pressed on that button in the elevator.

He knows perfectly that many things have changed. The main one concerns the death of Hotch. He had gone to the funeral, a sad occasion to review what he considered as a second family for a long time. Everyone was there, including Emily and her partner, JJ along with Will and their children, Spencer next to Tara, Rossi alone and Garcia holding the hands of no so little anymore Jack. But still too young to have to face the death of a parent again. And next to the blonde computer analyst was a man who he had never seen, probably the one who had taken his place. Even Beth had attended the ceremony, almost keeping herself aloof, as if she didn't feel entitled to participate in the group's pain. But Derek had noticed the tears running down her face without much effort.

The second change is connected directly to the first one. Prentiss took Hotch's place as chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Mourning was needed to bring them together. Perhaps for the same reason Tara has decided to stay at least for another year.

But of the other real change, he has absolutely no idea.

Emily already knows of his return, he talked to her on the phone and managed to convince her not to say anything, to surprise others. She played along and informed him that they don't currently have any new cases, so they are all busy settling bureaucratic issues. Almost.

All the desks are occupied, except his, or rather, what had been his before. The first to recognize him is Spencer. His eyes go up and down for a few seconds, then exclaims: -Morgan?- and stands up, drawing the attention of those present. In a moment he is surrounded and submerged by questions.

It's JJ who asks about the true motivation that led him to come back. And to touch the sore subject.

-How are Savannah and Hank? - with her innocent tone and her classic way quieter. A moment of pause. But sooner or later he will have to say it. So it's better to do it right away, just pull the Band-Aid off.

-They are fine, Savannah ... they went to live in Chicago, close to her parents and my mother ... I see them on the weekends ...- he couldn't say more. But others have understood. Above all Emily, who knows more details.

-Oh, Derek, I'm sorry ... I thought you two were ... the perfect couple ...- JJ is always expressing everyone's thoughts. The absence of Garcia is noticeable. However, if she did not work here anymore, Prentiss would have told him. Instead, the brunette just warned him that not everything remained as him remember. But she didn't want to add more. You'll see it with your eyes.

As much as he loves each member of the team, he needs to see her. She is partly responsible for his choice to return, just as she had been for leaving. He nods and heads for the Oracle room or Penelope bunker. A part of him trembles at the thought of finally being able to embrace her again.

He arrives on the threshold and stops, hearing voices. One belongs to Garcia, the other is masculine.

-Stop, stop it! I give up, you won!- the woman giggles, trying to block the hands of him that is tickling her. But man is much stronger and doesn't hide it. In a moment she finds herself against the wall, unable to make any movement.

-I won?- he asks, pleased, a mischievous smile on his lips. The body is even more pressed on the generous forms of her partner. For a moment she can't pronounce a monosyllable, then strives to regain her mental faculties.

-We shouldn't ... do this while others are working seriously.- is a clumsy attempt, done only to have a clear conscience. And man knows it perfectly. For this he begins to play with the shoulder strap of her bra, to drop it to completely free the shoulder and then to lay a kiss on her naked skin, which shudders at the contact, testifying that he is doing a right thing. She has now completely abandoned herself to his mercy, tilting her head back and offering her neck accordingly, as during a sacrificial ceremony. The hands, roughened by months under cover, lived in the most cramped places, roam safely along the female body, following already known itineraries and tracing new routes.

She feels herself vibrating with every touch, an electric shock every time he touches her. She has never felt so much at the mercy of a man in her life. She had always had a strong personality, but as she had told her best friend, centuries before, she wanted immensely to find someone who could keep up with her, on all fronts. Which had the courage to say his own. And he is ... not only beautiful, they have a physical and sexual chemistry that is scary ... but also so mysteriously sweet, caring and absurdly, completely, fucking madly in love with her. When she is in his company, she is sure of being the only one who makes him feel (sometimes too clearly) the desire she feels towards him. Then he's funny, curious, witty. Smart, honest. And hot, so nice to make her swoon, every time then she lay eyes on his sculpted body, which isn't a factor of secondary importance.

But right over their heads, their colleagues are compiling files endlessly. -Luke ...- it comes out halfway between a moan and a sigh. -Luke, we can't. You have to go back upstairs, and I have to file all the cases of the last six months ... - she smiles to see the lips of the Latin bend in a disappointed grimace. She then approaches his ear and after giving a slight bite to his lobe, whispers: -We can pick this up tonight ...- she feels the thrill that runs along the spine of the man and passes directly to her.

-This time I'll give you that one, chica .- he smiles but before letting her go, he prints an intense kiss on her red lips, snatching a new moan of surprise and protests for the brevity of the contact.

They are still smiling and giggling, when Luke opens the door, risking crashing into Derek, who had not yet found the courage to knock.

A sudden frost falls in the room. Penelope not entirely consciously reaches the two men and then stands beside the Latin.

-Morgan?- she finally asks, looking at who was her best friend for years, as if he was a ghost. -What are you doing here?- certainly the blonde's tone is not what he expected.

-I'm back in the team!- he announces with joy. But he doesn't get it in return. Garcia indicates the man who stands next to her and presents him to Derek.

-This is the special agent Luke Alvez- Morgan doesn’t go unnoticed the tone that she uses in naming him, full of affection and not only -and Luke, this is Derek Morgan.- the two exchange a circumspect look, before shake hands amicably. Both see in the other a possible rival or an enemy.

Passes an eternity before the bald opening his mouth. -Baby girl, can we talk?- Luke jumps hearing another man call his woman in this way. The famous super-agent, multi-decorated hero etc. etc. Derek Morgan. I could gladly have done without this acquaintance. Unknowingly he turns the ring that leads to the finger of his left hand and rejoices, remembering the idea of giving the computer technician something that explicitly declared to the whole world that she belonged to him.

Penelope turns to him and touches his arm -Lovely, would you give us a moment alone? I have to speak with Morgan.- he nods, resisting with difficulty the temptation to greet her with a kiss, which further certifies the current situation to the prodigal son. He just nods and caresses her cheek.

-It's okay, chica.- he gives her one last look, to which she replies with a smile. Once Agent Alvez is go, Garcia turns seriously again.

-So ... you got on well with the new agent, I see ...- his tone is ironic, and she catches it perfectly. But it's not the amused tone they used once to make fun each other, with aftertaste of sweetness and affection. This is a bad irony, which implies an accusation that is neither here nor there.

-Why did you have to come here, Morgan?- she is careful not to get too close and keep him from doing the same. She returns to her bat-cave, but doesn't invite him to cross the threshold. Derek follows her in any case, admiring the garish dress she wears and the skin it lets see. At least certain things haven't changed.

-Maybe what you would like to say is: what do you want from me?- underlines the man, reaching her and leaning on her desk.

-So, Morgan? Tell me what you want and just do it. I have to work.- she puffs impatient.

-I saw.- he launches a last arrow, then understands that he has little time to fix the mess combined with his jealousy. -Penelope ... I know you're angry because we didn't be in touch like we promised ...- she motioned him to continue. -Baby girl, you will not tell me that a simple contingency can destroy more than ten years of solid friendship?- he can't help it, his hands travel in the direction of her body, grabs her for hips and force her to stand up. She can't stop him, but it's a submission that doesn't give her shivers of pleasure like with Luke; on the contrary, it makes her feel weak and insecure. Derek represents her past, her biggest mistake. She didn't even believe she could ever love someone, because she was too slave, too sick of the man who is now holding her hands in his. Instead it happened and just now that everything is perfect, he can't think of going back and slamming his claims in her face.

-Things have changed ...- Penelope tries to mention, with a tremendously fragile tone. She hates herself.

-I saw.- Derek admits, reluctantly. And for the first time since she saw him again, she hears a sad note in his voice. And almost there she is, ready to hold him in her arms to make him feel better. She feels a finger pain, exactly where is the ring. But he seems to notice the breach in her armor. -I miss you...- he adds some salt on it, forcing her to look him in the eye.

-Derek, please ...- another sign of failure. She had calls him by name. What a heavenly sound for his ears. He had not heard it for too long.

-Baby, you can't be tough with me. I know you too well ...- You should say "you knew me". I've changed. Now I'm stronger. So why I can't tell him? Why I don't get out his hug? Luke, please come and save me! Indeed, no. I have to do it alone. I must definitely free myself of this awe. I've always looked at him too much like an unattainable myth. Like a sun. And once someone said: The myths should be watched like you look at the sun, from a distance and in passing. -Penelope?- he questions her, since him didn't get any reaction from the woman.

-What do you want?!- she blurts, her eyes bright with the effort of not feeling anything for him.

-Baby, girl why are you crying?- instead of approaching, as she might expect, he moves away, finally aware of how much pain he has done. And not just since he left. -Baby ...- she stops him with a single glance.

-Don't ... don't call me baby girl, please. Derek ... I missed you too. The difference, is that I missed you too much .- seeing his confused look, she hurries to explain. -I could hardly breathe in the morning when I arrived here, and I couldn't see you at your desk. Fortunately, I repeat it: luckily! Agent Alvez arrived. You have no idea how him helped me.- Derek instead has an idea, but it's bad and it's better if he doesn't explain it -I have treated him very bad at the beginning, just because he was not you. I was very unjust, and I was wrong. But this thing ... intrigued him and in the end we found ourselves ... as you saw us.- Penelope smiles at this statement. There is no clearer way to make him understand that she is happy with Luke. And that will not allow him to undermine the goal she has reached so hard.

Without any logical reason, Morgan begins to smile, then even laugh, almost hysterically. Garcia even begins to think that he can choke and tries to stop him. -I can't believe it ...- exclaims between a wince and the other -It's my fault.- and the laughter left the way it came. And he comes back serious.

-Morgan, are you ok?- even now, the fact that she finally worry about him can make him feel better.

-No. Garcia, there's something I haven't told you yet. Savannah and I ... we divorced.- SBAM. A fist in the chest. She didn't expect such news and doesn't know what to say. She never wanted they break up. Not at least after Hank was born. That child had no fault. Only she would have liked to be his mother instead of godmother.

She would have liked. Hypothetical and past time.

-Can you say anything?- now he's a little too close. For the second time in less than an hour, Penelope finds herself against the wall of her office. But this time it will be different. She is sure of this. Because she can't do this to Luke. He doesn't deserve it. And she neither. -I'm glad someone made you feel better while I wasn't here, but now I'm here.- he raises her chin. -Do you remember what I told you before I left?- No! screams every pore of her skin. Don't say it, don't repeat it! -Penelope Garcia ... I love you ... so much...- It was wrong to tell me long time ago, with a newborn son and it's even more so now. She sees him approaching even more, to bridge the gap between them in a kiss for which years ago she would have jumped for joy and sold all her "babies". But not now. With a willpower that she didn't even know she had, she manages to push him away by placing her hand on his chest, which didn't lose its appeal to her. But she is stronger. Derek looks at her like a dazed man. -Oh, no. Will you not tell me that you love him?- if he were in his right mind, he would never ask her for something like that. He would never behave so self-confident and snooty. But he has lost the ability to discern and think correctly the moment he saw his baby girl in the company of that guy.

-Is that what you want to hear? Yes, Derek. I love him. I really love him. I love Luke Alvez with every fiber of my body.- Penelope isn't lying, he doesn't need to have the I.Q. of Reid to understand it, nor being a profiler. But a part of him still can't admit defeat. He can't conceive of it.

-I don't believe it. Do you love him as you loved Sam? Or Kevin? That when he asked you to marry him, you panicked and blew it to smithereens...- he reproaches her with such a wickedness to stun her. This isn't Morgan she loved. He must be his evil twin. The subtext is clear to her. You couldn't love another man, because you still loved me. -Answer me, Penelope.- he takes her by the arm, to keep her from escaping.

-What do you want, Morgan? Do you want me to tell you why I love him? He is the best man I know. He is stubborn, intelligent, witty ... and terribly sexy. He's not the nerd guy I thought he was the only one who could ever seriously care about me ... with whom to speak only of bytes, firewalls, etcetera ... He's attractive and can capture both my mind and body ...- Derek almost dies of this declaration. But he still can't accept defeat. He can't.

-But...- he throws the hook, hoping that there is really a "but".

-But what? But he's not you? I'm sorry- she shakes her head slightly -but he's not Kevin. If you had asked me a date while I was with Kevin, I don't know how I would have to say no. I was sick, Derek. Incredibly, madly crazy for you. I saw you as a hero ... but you were too far away to think you were real. You're right- she admits, looking down for a moment - I didn't love Kevin fully. I could not marry him, because he wasn't you. Every time I make comparisons between him and you, and poor ... he always lost. But with Luke it's different- she raises her head and looks him straight in the eye. -I don't have to make a comparison with you, because I don't see any shortcomings towards him. He makes me feel loved, attractive, interesting and protected.- seeing the sad expression that has been painted on the man's face, she hurries to add: -I'm not saying that you have never made me feel so... just... in a different way. I stopped hoping there might be something between us, long ago. It's not true, I'm saying a lie. I never stopped until I met Luke. I can't explain why.- she smiles sadly seeing him so sorry. But this doesn't change her feelings. -If it can make you feel better or maybe you'll understand why it's good, that I'm out of "Derek Morgan's addiction", at the beginning when I realized I was really attracted to Luke ... I felt like I were cheating on you! It is not a sensible thing. You were married and with a son.-

-Baby girl, why you never told me anything ...- it is the first sentence that he says after those that seem centuries. She grabs his hand. Now she knows she can love him without risking a crap and ruining the best thing she's ever had.

-I'll never stop being attracted to you or loving you, you've been my best friend for too many years. But this doesn't change what I feel. I would never betray Luke with you. I didn't think I'd ever have to say anything like that but... you arrived after the deadline. It 's too late.- at this moment what she needs is the muscular arms of her boyfriend to wrap her completely, to take her out of this tremendous world, in which best friends-impossible dreams come back in the least opportune moment. -Derek ... are you okay? What a silly question, it's obvious that you can't.- this is his baby girl, talkative every time she cares about someone she loves; she'll not cease to be so only because her heart belongs to another man.

-I don't know... but... can I ask you only one thing?- she nods -Would you give me the honor of a hug?- Garcia doesn't make him repeat a second time and hugs him tightly, without feeling in the least guilty. Derek immediately begins to whisper softly, like a lullaby, in her ear, while he caresses her hair, never crossing friend's border -I'm so sorry, Penelope. I never wanted you to suffer so much because of me. I never dared to demonstrate what I felt for you. And I don't know why I wanted to believe you would be here, waiting for me forever. But I have to thank you, woman. I thank you because you made me understand my selfishness and you made me go back to being what I was two years ago. Unfortunately, with Savannah didn't go well, right away. I've changed, for the worse, in these years. I became more cynical and this also because I had no dirty conversations with a blonde of our knowledge. I will not stop loving you, Penelope Garcia. And that's why I want you to know that your happiness, as much as it costs me, is also mine.- Penelope smiles. -Now ... it will be better to go out. Otherwise I think that your boyfriend will take me out ...- he still can't joke with the same tranquility of the past, but with time, maybe it will be better. It wasn't meant to be.

-So, what did you and the special agent Derek Morgan talk about?- Penelope laughs and throws the pillow over her.

-Are you jealous, Agent Alvez?- she says.

-I should be?- Luke replies with the umpteenth question, then kidnapps her in a long kiss that expresses everything he's thinking. When he found himself in front of the legendary and all too mentioned Derek Morgan, he thought he was going crazy. When he left them alone, he was afraid of going crazy. The idea of losing her isn't conceivable. Not for a guy who made her feel bad for years, even if not entirely voluntarily, and then comes comfortably comfortable hoping of stealing her to the latest, like America during the World Wars. He trusted her, yes, but... but he always fears. And Penelope seems to understand it perfectly.

-Love, you feeling okay?- she crouches on his chest and in a dwarf according to his arms wrap her like a blanket. Luke nods, then shakes his head. -Hey, Mr. Tall Dark and Blandsome, you know I love you, right?- that's all he needed.

-You know that I love you too.-

And then it's just laughter and cuddle.

short appendix: I'm not Derek

-Garcia, I diagnosed you perfectly. You're one who likes to play with fire. Well, I think you enjoyed a little too much in the past.- seeing her expression, he hurries to add - Don't you take it out on our colleagues, they had to tell me the truth. I'm not Derek Morgan.- every sentence he's closer one millimeter to her -My hearth is free. I have no reason to turn off the spark. I don't limit myself to burning with words, I also move on to action.- only an inch separates them when he silent. -Be careful, Penelope. Don't get confused, not all the pyromaniacs are the same. You could burn yourself.- when he smiles his lips almost touch the woman's.

Penelope can't escape; she has her back to the wall. And even if she could ... now her heart is set on fire and no fireman will be able to extinguish the flames that burn every inch of her body.

This is one of the first Garvez I wrote. Is dedicated to @theshamelessmanatee Others tags @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @martinab26 @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa@yessenia993 @arses21434 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke @gcchic @rkt3357 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jamirn@kathy5654 @lovesgoodluna @thisonekid@thenibblets@ambrosiaswhispers @perfectly-penelope @courtneyxoxo1 @jahreau @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @ichooseno megs2219 @ smalliemichelle99 @skisun @chewwy123 @maziikeen92 @ gracieeelizabeth27 @ thinitta @franklintrixie @jenf42

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #derek morgan #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #alvez x garcia #garcia x alvez #derek x penelope #penelope x derek #morgan x garcia #garcia x morgan #morcia #criminal minds #cm

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gratitudejoyandsorrow · 7 years

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Of Loyalty and Duty (Chapter 3)

Prompt: In an effort to save two kingdoms, an arranged marriage was made. At his request, Prince Lin-Manuel Miranda was to be wed to you, the youngest daughter in your royal family. RoyalAU. Written for the hamwriters’ write-a-thon Day 1 prompt.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Pairing: Lin x reader

Words: 2,383

Warning: minor character death

Tagged: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @notthrowingawaymyfood

A/N: So you’re going to give me a backhanded compliment and then insult me by telling me my fics are shitty? Well here’s ANOTHER one for you. Two in one day, will ya look at that? *clears throat* Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. Thank you for proofreading @how-could-i-do-this ! Also, I’m leaving for a trip soon, so I’m not sure if I have time to write. @nesthemonster - this is for you.

Thanks for reading!

The Miranda kingdom was breathtaking.

Though you’d already seen the scenery – the sprawling green plains, mountains and hills that decorated the horizon, and the fields littered with farmers that tended to their crops and livestock – experiencing it once was not enough for you to appreciate its beauty. As you neared the first village, you noticed that children, boys and girls alike, were running alongside the carriage, waving their tiny arms in greeting. You automatically waved back, giggling when their eyes went wide.

Without much thought about your prior spat, you tugged on Prince Lin’s sleeve to catch his attention. “Say hello!”

He gave you an amused stare but acquiesced, lifting his hand in acknowledgment to the sprinting children. You laughed when they shrieked in delight, their bright smiles shining under the sun despite the growing distance between them and the carriage. “I imagine that you are very popular with the children in the villages,” you teased, tucking the loose tendrils of hair that the wind toyed with behind your ear, “they are quick to idolize people that they admire… and your similar temperaments must be appealing to them as well.”

Prince Lin scoffed and propped his chin on his hand, elbow resting against the window of the carriage. “Are you calling me a child, Princess?” he questioned, regarding you carefully.

You leaned back against the seat, purposely not meeting his gaze as you grinned. “Maybe.”

“I am anything but a child,” he murmured, shifting close, “would you like a proof of my manhood, Princess?”

“You are appalling, Prince Lin-Manuel,” you seethed, your playful mood gone, “I will make good on my earlier promise if you lay a finger on me.”

He threw his head back and cackled. “But we are madly in love, are we not? I can’t resist the temptation to touch my beautiful bride-to-be.”

“Already playing into the role of the loving groom, I see,” you retorted, folding your arms across of chest. You refused to fall for his trap to fluster you.

He laughed again, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I’m always ready to play the part. Besides, it is not a difficult task to pretend that I am fond of you.”

Your mouth snapped shut, heart fluttering at the low rumble of his words. “I…” you started, troubled that you were at loss for a reply. The smile of triumph that slowly spread across his face caused your cheeks to heat in response. “I cannot say the same for you,” you continued, inwardly scowling at your lackluster reply.

Fortunately, the carriage slowed, directing his attention from your flushed face to the approaching huts. He turned back to you, teasing smile gone. “Are you ready?” he asked, voice gentle.

You let out a loud exhale, throat constricting at your realization of the forthcoming trials and the lies that you were going to feed to innocent people. “I will never be. I have no choice but to endure, do I?”

He smiled wryly. “No need to remind me, Princess.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Upon arrival, Prince Lin brushed off the coachman that tried to assist you out of the carriage, offering his hand to you instead. You noticed the crowd that gathered as you stood at the threshold of the opening, their scrutinizing eyes watching the scene unfold.

With a forced smile, you took his hand and placed a foot on the folding step, using him for balance. When he suddenly drew back, you felt your body tip forward, and you opened your mouth to squeal - but the noise was caught in your throat when his hands wrapped around your waist to guide you safely to the ground. You stared up at him, alarmed, heart racing from his unexpected horseplay. “What –” you sputtered, bewildered.

You heard the hushed whispers arise from the crowd, and when you became aware of his motives, you couldn’t prevent the incredulous giggle that escaped your mouth. “You are devious, Prince Lin-Manuel.”

He grinned, remaining silent as he untangled his hands from your waist. “Let the show begin, Princess,” he cooed, offering his hand to you once more.

You didn’t have a chance to reply before the sound of rushed footsteps caught your attention. You turned just in time to see two little girls racing forward, leaving their protesting father behind, their arms full of flowers.

“For the future Queen!” The taller one chirped, lifting a flower crown to you. You inspected it, smiling when you realized that the blossoms were the ones that you asked Prince Lin to name during your walks through the palace’s garden. The crown was decorated with silk rose buds, peach flowers, white daises, and orange ranunculus; the blend of colors complimented each other beautifully.

“For me?” you asked, melting at her enthusiasm. You quickly waved off the guard that stepped forward, ready to reprimand the girl that dared to approach you so informally.

She nodded, pigtails bouncing with her zealous movements.

With a small laugh, you kneeled and leaned forward, offering the crown of your head to her. Another low murmur came from the crowd, but you ignored it, welcoming the weight of the flowers when she placed it on your head. “Did you make this?” you asked.

“Yes! My younger sister and I spent days crafting the crowns for you and the Prince!” she replied, beaming.

You glimpsed at Prince Lin, who now had a similar crown resting on his head. “Thank you. I am honored to receive your gifts.”

She curtsied and gave you a toothy grin before she and her sister were swept up into the arms of their panicked father. He bowed low, apologizing profusely at his daughters’ boldness and insolence. You stood and gave him a comforting smile. “I take no offense. I am pleased to be welcomed so warmly.”

Wide-eyed and still stammering his apologies, he bowed low once more and carried his girls back into the safety of the crowd.

After waving goodbye to the ecstatic girls peering over their father’s shoulders, you turned to look at the silent Prince. “What is it?” you asked, seeing the soft smile on his face.

“These crowns,” he said, reaching to touch the flowers that rested on top of your head, “are what my people give to newlyweds. It is to wish the bride and groom a happy and lengthy marriage.”

“Oh,” you replied, stunned.

He smiled. “Perhaps my people do not need much convincing after all.”

Throughout the day you met the Lords of each village; their humility and respect towards you and your family were admirable. They greeted you with open arms, offering gifts in celebration for the upcoming wedding. Each time the Lord of the current village led the group through his lands, your father and Margaret inquired about the efficiency and methods of production, eager to know more about the mechanics of the village. Meanwhile, you and Prince Lin trailed behind them, their words falling on deaf ears. Instead, you listened as he clarified what crops were grown in each village, explained the story behind certain customs that you noticed and were curious of, and even named the flowers that you spotted and didn’t recognize.

As the carriage drew near the last village you were arranged to visit, you caught a glimpse of Prince Lin out of the corner of your eye. He was uncharacteristically quiet, gazing off into the distance, fingers drumming against his crossed legs, with a deep set frown on his face. The setting sun kissed his skin, bathing him an orange glow that caused his dark eyes to lighten.

“Prince Lin,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He turned, the frown softening into a small smile. “Yes?”

“You seem troubled.”

He uncrossed his legs, sighing before he spoke. “As we get farther from the palace, there is a significant decrease in the quality of living. The villages we’ve visited so far have been the most robust in the nation. This upcoming one, however…”

“Is not,” you finished, speaking slowly.

“They were the first to be heavily impacted by the famine. Their population was nearly cut in half and they have yet to recover. Their children are malnourished, the life expectancy of the elders is declining, and I cannot help but feel their accusing glares when we visit. The Lord of the land insists otherwise, but I can tell that the people of the village blame us for favoring the other villages and abandoning them,” he sighed once more, his features turning into that of a burdened twenty-three-year-old King you’d never seen before.

You smoothed out your dress, the material starting to wrinkle from the day’s events, and turned to face him. “I don’t necessarily understand the process of action when it comes to disasters within a kingdom, but if there is one thing about you that I have learned during my short time here, is that you are loyal to your people. You love them and will do anything for them. Is that not why we are in this predicament now? Do not feel guilty for your inability to help them in the past and instead feel proud for what you are doing for them in the present.”

He stared at you in wonder, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You never cease to amaze me, Princess.”

You stared at him in surprise. “What?”

The carriage stopped, disrupting your conversation. He ignored your lingering gaze and helped you out of the carriage, your hand tightly clutched in his. After a quick scan of your surroundings, you immediately noticed the disparity of the village compared to the previous ones.

The huts looked timeworn, the life of the buildings nearing their end. There were only a few men and women that greeted the carriages – most were in their homes, peering through their windows, disinterested – but the sight of their tattered clothes barely hanging off their thin frames made your stomach sink.

And the children…

The children were malnourished. The skin on their arms and legs was stretched tight around their bones, and their stomachs were distended from their hunger. Their eyes were dull, lacking the liveliness that most children had when encountering royalty.

The Lord of the land came forward, a tired and strained smile on his lips as he bowed low in greeting. True to the routine, he guided everyone through the village, with your father and Margaret in the forefront while you and Prince Lin flanked the back. This time, however, Prince Lin was silent, his eyes searching the faces of the people he passed. His grip around your hand slackened when the topic of conversation shifted to the food supplies, the tense voice of the Lord palpable when he was asked about the quantities remaining. Impulsively, you squeezed his hand to comfort him, returning his appreciative smile.

You took another quick perusal of your surroundings, frowning at the impoverished environment. The streets were barren, lacking the life that a growing kingdom should have. From the corner of your eyes you spotted a little girl sitting on a wooden mat, leaning against a hut, her gaze directed forward and a straw doll clutched in her hand. Concerned at her lack of awareness of her surroundings – she was too close to the baskets containing garbage – you tugged your hand out of Prince Lin’s grasp and walked towards her.

The first thing you noticed was the buzzing sound of flies.

Next was the smell of rotting flesh.

She was in nothing but in her undergarments, her cachectic body revealed. Bones that you knew that should not be so pronounced made your stomach turn uneasily. Dust and dirt covered her skin and hair, and the sight of the flies swarming around her caused a chill to run down your spine.

Your knees trembled when you stared into her eyes, the beautiful shade of blue lifeless. “She – she –” you started, not recognizing the high pitch of your voice as you stumbled backward, eyes still glued to the little girl.

You felt a firm grip on your arm before you were yanked backward. Suddenly, you no longer saw the little girl, and it took you a moment to realize that Prince Lin had you pressed against his chest. You tried to pull away from him, hoping that if you looked at the space again, it would be empty – that the body of a little girl that died scrounging for food would be gone.

But Prince Lin didn’t release you, and you struggled in his grip to free yourself. “Let me go! Don’t you see?! She needs our help!”

He ignored you. “This trip is over,” he said, voice firm.

Margaret rushed forward, placing her hands on your shoulders to gently turn you towards her. You searched her eyes and anticipated her comforting words. “Y/N,” she cooed, her soft voice warm and reassuring, “this transpires frequently, and as unfortunate as it may be, it is a natural path of life.”

You stared at her, horrified. “An innocent child dying is unfortunate?”

Margaret let out an exasperated sigh. “You need to understand, my dear sister, that as future Queen, sometimes it is best to push your sentiments aside. Her death was ill-fated, but it was of no surprise. You must recognize that this village is declining. Their production has decreased, and they are slowly losing their importance to the Miranda Kingdom. Accept that this village will soon be abandoned and the people will migrate to the larger villages that are in need of their help. They will prosper there.”

“Margaret,” you whispered, feeling as if you were staring into a stranger’s eyes, “do you hear yourself?”

You felt numb as you watched her press her lips together in a straight line, unhappy with your answer. She gathered her dress in her hands and rushed off to the carriages that were prepared for departure.

Prince Lin touched your arm, gaining your attention, and you felt sick when you saw the pity in his eyes. Between the sight of the lifeless girl and your sister’s lack of empathy, you were uncertain how to feel. “I want to go home,” you whispered, eyes lowered as you unsuccessfully attempted to sort through your emotions.

Prince Lin nodded, silent.

“Let’s go home.”

#lin x reader #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel miranda fanfiction #lin manuel miranda imagines #lin manuel miranda preferences #hamilton x reader #hamilton preference #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction

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iamastrongchristian-blog · 5 years

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Signs of a Strange Woman

It is important for every Christian to be delivered from the snares and traps of strange people. In the Bible, particularly in the book of Proverbs, God has given us some of the signs by which we can identify a strange person and avoid her. I want to show you twenty signs of the strange woman. A strange woman may have some or all of these signs. Do not be deceived if a woman does not manifest some of the signs. This list of signs is just to help you pick out a strange woman from the crowd.

1. A strange woman has a group that she identifies with.

...a young man...Passing through the street near her corner... Proverbs 7:7, 8

This story in Proverbs tells us that the naive young man went to her corner. The strange woman had a corner. Strange people have their special corners. They also have special groups of friends who congregate with them at these special places. Everybody has a friend. There is basically nobody without a friend. I have my friends, who are mostly pastors.

We know the proverb, “Birds of the same feather flock together”, and “Show me your friend and I will show you your character.” These sayings are not in the Bible, but they are true.

People flow together in groups, the like-minded with the like-minded, friends with friends. The secular strange women have their special corners. The Red Light District is a popular corner for strange people in any country. These are places where you are sure to find them.

My wife told me about a group of strange girls she knew when she was in school. This particular group of girls were all involved with married men, and they frequently met to compare notes. Sometimes one of them would be heard asking, “Have you asked him for the shoes?” Another would also say, “I have told him to buy me the plane ticket.” They had something in common; therefore, they stuck together and influenced each other. Strange people always move in special groups.

2. A strange woman operates at special times.

Proverbs 7:9 says she operates “in the twilight, in the evening, in the black and dark night”. The secular strange women operate in the dark and black night. The evenings are times when evil can flourish. It is rare to find them at their corners in the afternoon, but in the night they abound. The black and dark night also speaks of the time of difficulty and stress. Many people encounter a strange woman when they are going through difficulties. The black and dark night speaks of times of pain, times of confusion, times of not knowing where to turn and what to do. Also, you are a young man; you must not be in the company of certain people at certain times. If you are in a relationship, there are certain times that you should not be with your beloved—(fiancée). If you are a married man, you are not supposed to be at certain places with certain people at certain times. A married lady should never have a twilight dinner with her boss. Never!

In the church situation, strange people usually do not attend evening Bible teaching meetings. They are more regular at Sunday services, because that is when a lot more people come to church, and they can show off their best clothes. You will never see such people at prayer and fasting meetings, especially if it is going to last all night, or several hours.

They will however be the first to get ready if the church is going to the beach or some place to have a good time. Some of these people are bold enough to say they only go to church to trap a Christian man or lady!

3. A strange woman has a particular way of dressing.

...there met him a woman with the attire of an harlot... Proverbs 7:10

A strange woman dresses in a suggestive and revealing way. You can pick them out by their dressing. The Bible did not say she was a harlot, but that, she came with the dress of a harlot. If you are a Christian there are certain dresses that you are not supposed to wear. A believer ought to dress decently. If you are not a prostitute but you often dress like one, then you have one of the characteristics of a strange woman.

Strange women often dress in suggestive and revealing ways. It is not only the dress that speaks, but their pose also says volumes. You can immediately see they are after something. If you dare come to church with such a dress, then there is no doubt that you are strange. Some of the dresses expose half of the breasts. But a woman’s breasts are not meant for public display. I know of only two reasons why breasts were made: 1. For breastfeeding, and 2. For husbands to enjoy!

Ladies, always dress decently—do not dress in suggestive or revealing ways! Make-up helps to enhance the beauty of women, but there is a limit. At a point the make-up becomes too much and other messages are loudly sent across.

Every Christian should look beautiful, but we should be careful not to cross the line into “strangeness”. The Bible says temptation shall surely come, but woe to him through whom the temptation comes.

4. A strange woman has had sexual and romantic relationships with a good number of men.

...MANY strong men have been slain by her. Proverbs 7:26

As Christians, we should not just set eyes on people, fall in love and marry them. No! There is more to Christian marriage than love at first sight! During a pastoral visit to New Jersey, I became acquainted with an elderly African-American woman. In her house, she pointed out photographs of her children to me. She said she was blessed with sons who were all preachers. However, she said she had lost one of her sons recently.

She said her son, a pastor in New York had gotten married to this beautiful lady. Before the marriage they had done the AIDS tests, but both were negative. So he went ahead and married the lady. However, some months into the marriage she developed full-blown AIDS, with terrible diarrhoea, weight loss and all the usual symptoms.

This old lady told me how she tried to make her son break up the marriage. He refused, and died a few months after his wife. Dear friend, this pastor married someone who probably had a bad history – a strange woman! And he did not even know it! He paid for it with his life.

Another Christian brother had a beautiful wedding, but later when he was alone at home with his wife, the Spirit of God revealed horrible things about his wife to him. He suddenly realized that she was not what he thought she was. He was shocked to find out that she had slept with many pastors and mighty men.

I am not saying that you should not marry somebody who has a history per se. But you must know about her past life in order to guard yourself. You should remember that a strange person can continue in the same ways even after marriage.

5.A strange woman is striking. You will notice her!

She is loud... Proverbs 7:11

Watch out for ladies you notice. They strike you and you remember them. She who strikes you has also struck many other men. The striking characteristics of this strange woman have made many men come after her like flying insects after a bright light. Strange women are loud and that is why they are noticeable. There are various ways of being loud. It could be verbally or in appearance. You will also notice such people through their loud dressing, giggling and loud laughter.

There is a type of dressing that literally shouts, making all eyes turn to look at you. In the church, there are those you just cannot help but notice. They probably want you to notice them anyway. Do remember, “She who strikes you has already been struck!”

When I was in Achimota School (a secondary school in my country), there were times when we had to walk from the eastern compound to the western compound. On some occasions I had to walk behind a group of girls. I often walked faster and overtook them. But as I walked a few metres ahead of them I would hear them giggling.

I had no idea what they were laughing about. I would often change the way I walked, but the giggling and laughter would only grow louder. After a few of such experiences, any time I saw these girls on the way, I would make no effort to overtake this loud and strange group. Remember that a woman with a meek and quiet spirit is considered precious in the sight of God.

6. A strange woman is stubborn.

She is...stubborn; Proverbs 7:11

Stubbornness is a symptom of witchcraft. A witch is usually stubborn and resistant to advice, instruction and input. She is unbending. She is unyielding and she does not give up. The strange woman syndrome goes along with this landmark symptom of stubbornness! The Bible says the wife should submit to her husband. The word submit means “to yield, bend, agree, or to obey”. A good wife is supposed to yield, but if she is a strange woman, she will be stubborn. God’s order is for the husband to lead, and the woman to follow. But in these days of women’s liberation and the Beijing Conference, you have all sorts of women rising up to fight every established authority!

Dear women, you are not wiser than God. No matter what you think and know, and no matter the theories you come up with, there can be only one head in a home. Any animal with two heads is abnormal and a freak.

A strange woman is a dangerous person to marry. She is stubborn in the church, stubborn at home and stubborn at work. She always has a reason or an excuse for not doing what she ought to do.

Watch out for ladies who cannot be convinced and do not change their minds. Watch out for the unyielding, unbending sisters. You may be dealing with a strange woman. Pharaoh was so stubborn that God had to speak to him through flies, frogs, deaths, tragedies and disasters! You do not need to go through similar experiences. Do not be too hard and do not be too stubborn. These are traits of a strange woman.

7.A strange woman is always going out.

...her feet abide not in her house: Proverbs 7:11

Strange people do not like staying at home. A woman is supposed to be “homely”, to be able to take care of and manage the home.

...that the younger women marry...guide the house... 1 Timothy 5:14

This also means the wife must know how to cook and supervise people in the house. There are some Christian sisters who do not know how to cook, because they are always in church, and are never at home. In fact, it is a tragedy to marry a woman who cannot cook! When your stew is set before you, you will not be able to tell the difference between that and soup! This is often the fate of the men who marry strange women. They are condemned to a life of eating in misery every day. One of the attractions of going home after a hard days’ work is the food at home.

8. A strange woman is a hunter. She wants a man!

Now is she without, now in the streets, and lieth in wait at every corner.) Proverbs 7:12

When a woman wants a man she is always outside in the streets, lying in wait at every corner for an opportune time to strike. Such women can only be satisfied when they are with one man or another.

…the adulteress will HUNT for the precious life. Proverbs 6:26

In the Proverbs 7 story, the strange woman acts as if she was lying in wait for this particular man. However, if the naive young man refuses her, she will lie in wait for the next man and tell him the same story—as if she was waiting particularly for him.

9. A strange woman loves physical contact.

So she caught him and kissed him... Proverbs 7:13

Strange people like to touch others. They often hug, kiss and press some part of their body against the people they are after. When you are walking with them, they never want to leave you. They always want to hold or hug you.

The strange woman knows that generally, a man can be sexually aroused by sight. She is also aware that a man will find it difficult to resist a woman’s touch. In order to conquer her victim totally she will cause him to yield by touching him. Some Christian brothers and sisters also have the habit of holding on and hanging on to each other. Watch out!

10. A strange woman is bold and unlawfully familiar.

...kissed him...with an impudent face... Proverbs 7:13

The strange woman is very bold and unlawfully familiar with the man she wants to have. Why do you talk to somebody about intimate things, when you are a just an acquaintance?

Strange people try to get close—in fact too close for comfort. Unless you are at a certain level of closeness with the person, you do not even have the right to comment about their hair or body. As soon as you become unlawfully familiar with somebody, you have crossed certain borders. Strange women effortlessly move out of their boundaries.

11. A strange woman is not ashamed.

Now is she without, now in the streets, Proverbs 7:12

She comes out in the open, into the street to solicit, and is not shy or ashamed of her behaviour. I was in Geneva once with one of my associate ministers, and we were talking seriously with a brother in a restaurant. This happened to be near a place where prostitutes lurk, and there was this prostitute who was such a nuisance that we had to usher her out. Initially, she did not want to go out, so we called the police, and eventually she was driven away. Later on we were busy talking, when one of the other prostitutes came along in a coat. She stood right in front of the whole restaurant, and opened up her coat to reveal her stark naked body. This lady had no shame.

Unknown to us, when the first one went out, she told all the other prostitutes that we had sacked her and so this other strange woman had come to taunt us. Strange women have no shame. They have been naked and undressed with many men under many circumstances many times! The strange woman has no shame.

If you are a woman, and you do not mind exposing your body, your breasts, your thighs, or any part of your body, then you are strange! You may think you are being fashionable, but in reality, you are just what the Bible calls strange. Unfortunately, there are born-again Christians who are not ashamed to expose themselves this way.

12. A strange woman is full of deception.

With her much fair speech she caused him to yield, with the flattering of her lips she forced him. Proverbs 7: 21

The lies of a strange woman are part of her arsenal. A lie is a window into the darkness of a malignant soul. A lie is a symptom of many hidden evils. A strange man may say to you, “I love you. You are everything to me. Look, I’m going to marry you anyway, so if you love me, show it! I love you, that’s why I want to sleep with you. I just want to express my love for you.” So with these and other such lies, a man can talk his way into your life.

My pastor used to say that if any man tells you he loves you and wants to express his love to you by sleeping with you, tell him he can express his love for you by buying you chocolates! On the other hand, there are women who also flatter men, especially powerful men. Some are very experienced in praising pastors. She will tell you that you are such an anointed man of God. With such seemingly harmless words, a strange woman can work her way into an unsuspecting man of God’s heart.

Faith comes by hearing, so when you continue to hear such words, you will eventually believe and yield.

13. A strange woman appeals to you through food.

I have decked my bed with coverings of tapestry... Proverbs 7:16

The word “bed” in the Hebrew is “arsi”, which refers to a dining couch, and not a sleeping bed. She was saying that she had laid the table. So this strange woman was appealing to the young man through food. Such strange people will often invite those they target to eat with them. If you are a young single brother, you may be exposing yourself to such strange people if you just go about eating all over the place.

A pastor visiting his members must remember that his business with them concerns the salvation of their souls. You are not supposed to go around eating from home to home. To some extent the saying is true that, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Food is good, but it can be used to trap you.

Eat thou not the bread of him that hath an evil eye... Proverbs 23:6

Sometimes your stomach can contribute to your fall. As a Christian, a pastor, and a husband, I do not go out to lunch with just anybody. Once, I saw a Christian brother who already had a fiancée, sitting with another lady over a candlelit dinner. I was very surprised, because he was inviting trouble for himself. I really did wonder if he would still marry his fiancée.

14. A strange woman speaks of her interest in sex.

Come, let us TAKE OUR FILL OF LOVE UNTIL THE MORNING... Proverbs 7:18

Many husbands pray that their wives would come up to them and say, “Honey, I want you now!” Some Christian wives could learn a lesson or two from strange women! Many wives are not prepared for sex—or do not want it. So it is an exciting thing for a man to meet a woman who wants to have sex with him. If a woman comes to a man and indicates that she wants to have him, it appeals to him greatly.

15.A strange woman is a stranger.

Say unto wisdom, Thou art my sister; and call understanding thy kinswoman: That they may keep thee from the strange woman, from THE STRANGER which flattereth with her words. Proverbs 7:4-5

You genuinely do not know much about a strange woman. She is mystical about her past and gives vague answers to all your questions. When you ask her how many men she has slept with she will say “one or two” when in actual fact she has slept with one or two hundred. A strange woman is full of surprises. One secret leads to another. Your life with a strange woman will be a life of discoveries. You will make newer and more discoveries about your partner as the years go by. In the end you will discover you never really knew her. On the night of his engagement a man was told that his wife-to-be was actually a suicide bomber. He did not believe what he was being told. But as he reflected on this shocking information he realized that he knew hardly anything about her. Such is the world of a strange woman. She is indeed a stranger and you cannot know the life she has lived in the past or the world from which she has come.

16. A strange woman loves to appear to be spiritual or religious.

I have peace offerings with me...have I payed my vows. Proverbs 7:14

There are strange women in the most spiritual sections of a church. I once knew a top prayer warrior who was a senior strange woman. By her own count and in her own words, she had slept with over two hundred different boys. And yet this strange girl was the most prayerful sister in the church. People’s apparent spirituality does not mean that their holiness is real. The strange woman said, “I am also a believer.” She was using every means to convince him that she was also a believer—just like him. There are many strange believers in the churches, even the charismatic ones. She said she had paid her tithes.

This was a very cunning strange woman who knew that her victim was a religious person. She knew that she could never come near him unless she behaved like a spiritual person. So she presented herself as someone who was obedient to God’s commands: She had already paid her vows and made her peace with God.

17.A strange woman captivates with her beauty and eyes.

Lust not after her beauty...neither let her take thee with her eyelids. Proverbs 6:25

She is beautiful, and she knows it. A strange woman enhances her beauty in a striking way. You must not allow yourself to be taken in by her eyelids. When you make eye contact with somebody, you can speak to the person. It is a form of communication. That is why I look at peoples’ faces when I am preaching. I am communicating with them. The strange woman, with practice over the years, knows how to effectively communicate her carnal intentions to a man. The Bible warns us not to lust after her. So if you notice that she is beautiful, that should be the end of the story. Do not lust after her beauty! Lust is an animal desire for sexual indulgence.

18. A strange woman is slippery and sly.

...the lips of a strange woman...smoother than oil: ...her ways are moveable... Proverbs 5:3, 6

A strange woman is not straightforward; all her ways are movable and shaky. Ecclesiastes 7:26 says, “I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets...” As a pastor, if you cannot identify the strange women you can easily fall prey to them. There are strange women who come to the pastor with their numerous problems. They are also easily given to tears. If you are not experienced, you will take out your handkerchief and try to comfort her. The strange woman is taking advantage of the pastor’s love and kindness. The Bible says her heart is full of ideas and traps. When you are a young man you sometimes do not know when you are walking in the midst of them. Some ladies come to church and in no time at all, a young man proposes to them. Sadly, many young men are looking for the most beautiful face. A young man can easily fall into these traps, and end up marrying a strange woman. In the same way, Christian ladies are impressed by the outward appearance of strange men, and accept their proposal, only to be taken on a strange tour!

19. A strange woman is attracted to great men.

...many strong men have been slain by her. Proverbs 7:26

Years ago, my pastor friend told me that girls were attracted to important or great men. He said to me, “When you play instruments, stand on stage, or are a leader, you are likely to be an attraction to strange women.” Each classification of great people—pastors, singers, businessmen, heads of states, and so on have their own kind of strange women who are attracted to them. Therefore, if God is raising you up, you must beware of these strange people. It is my prayer that God will deliver you from the snares of strange people!

by Dag Heward-Mills

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tcupress · 6 years

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An Interview with Thomas Zigal

Warning: This interview discusses the on-going reports of sexual abuse within the Catholic Church.

TCU Press: Aside from the near-constant news reports that we’re seeing, most people think of the film Spotlight in connection to the sex abuse scandal(s) within the Catholic Church. How would you describe your forthcoming book in relation to this film?

Thomas Zigal: Spotlight was focused on the journalists and the details of their investigation and discoveries. As viewers, we follow the reporters the way we followed Woodward and Bernstein when they were unraveling the mysteries of Watergate. The Spotlight investigators were laypersons outside the Catholic Church hierarchy, of course, trying to crack through the mighty fortress surrounding the archbishop and his clergymen in the Archdiocese of Boston. Outcry Witness takes a different approach. It’s an insider’s view of how a cover-up works, exploring what happens behind closed doors in the board room of a bishop’s chancery.

My novel begins with a fictional murder case set in New Orleans in the mid-1980s, in which steadfastly moral characters—an aging priest and his loyal nephew—find themselves being drawn into the Church’s efforts to hide the truth about a dead priest who is discovered to have been a child sex offender. In the world of my novel, this is the first case of its kind in the city, the first time that the bishop and his staff must face a scandal that could destroy the Church’s reputation. How they respond is emblematic of how every Church cover-up would work in the future. Hush money, nondisclosure agreements, reassigning priests to other parishes, etc.

Although Outcry Witness is a novel, I relied on many informative sources to construct my narrative, including books, articles, documentaries, blog entries, online sites for victims who tell their stories, and conversations with experts on the front lines of these headlining outrages. My novel has a solid foundation of fact, but it’s a story. I’m not a psychologist, sociologist, scholar, journalist, guidance counselor, or authority on pedophilia. A reviewer once called my novels “page turners with a conscience,” and that’s what I endeavored to do in writing Outcry Witness—to shed light on this horrendous epidemic of abuses that have gone largely unreported and unpunished for decades.

TCU: Would you mind sharing your own personal history with the Catholic Church?

TZ: I’ve earned my stripes to write about Catholic issues. For starters, I went to 14 years of Catholic schooling, including the first two years of college. The Catholic faith was central to my family and to the families of all the kids I attended school with. I was an altar boy when the Mass was in Latin, and like most Catholic boys of my generation—we grew up in the 1950s and 1960s —I gave serious consideration to joining the religious life. I have many Catholic friends, including several I’ve known since the first grade and still stay in touch with, and none of them have ever disclosed that they were abused. It’s likely that the abuses taking place back then were happening on a much smaller scale.

TCU: Your last novel, Many Rivers to Cross, takes place in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. What made you decide to pursue this topic for your next book? How did you go about researching it?

TZ: Back in 1992, when I was living in New Orleans, a writer named Jason Berry published a book entitled Lead Us Not Into Temptation: Catholic Priests and the Sexual Abuse of Children. I had met Jason at a dinner party in the French Quarter and I knew who he was. His book was a superb investigation of a priest who’d been abusing boys in southwest Louisiana. It was possibly the first major exposé of clergy pedophilia, and it opened my eyes to a very dark corner of the Catholic Church.

Because of my Catholic background, I was profoundly disturbed that a priest was the focus of Jason’s criminal investigation. It was unthinkable to me that a man of the cloth had molested several children over a lengthy period of time. But the facts were irrefutable. And Jason reported that in the eight years prior to his book’s publication (1984-92), 400 priests had been accused of sexually abusing children across the United States. I couldn’t wrap my mind around that many pedophiles in the priesthood. I had been intensely involved in the Church throughout my childhood and teen years, and I was very fond of the nuns, priests, and brothers who’d taught me in school. In all those formative years, I had never encountered a pedophile.

Over the next 15 or 20 years after reading Jason’s book, I read as many newspaper and magazine articles about Catholic priests and the sexual abuse of children as I could find, making notes and conceiving the characters and plot of an emerging novel. I also talked to friends who’d become involved in supporting and counseling victims. Throughout the 1990s, the reported cases were growing in number and fitting familiar patterns.

I set the story in New Orleans because it’s a Catholic city and I knew it well. At some point around the year 2000, I began to write the book, then put it aside to write The White League, returned to Outcry Witness, and put it aside again to write Many Rivers to Cross. (Those are the first two books of my New Orleans trilogy.) It was an on-again off-again project, and I continued to learn more about the subject as new books and documentaries appeared.

TCU: Outcry Witness portrays the moral struggle between those who conceal these alarming crimes and those who resist a cover-up and strive to nurture and heal the victims.

TZ: There are two competing sides in the novel. One side is the bishop, his staff, his lawyers, and sympathetic law enforcement agents willing to help the Church hide a secret. The other side is a slowly awakening group that includes an aging priest whose faith is shaken but strong, a fervently Catholic married couple who focus on identifying and supporting the victims, and a New Orleans private investigator who talks like the musician Dr. John and provides the street smarts to find the boys who have been harmed. It’s not a dry treatise on morality, but a page-turning thriller about real flesh-and-blood individuals fighting for the soul of the faith they embrace.

TCU: After you completed the book, did you share the manuscript with any professionals who are familiar with these cases—therapists or psychiatric professionals—who could give you feedback or advice about the very sensitive subject of pedophilia?

TZ: I gave the manuscript to two friends my age who are former Christian Brothers (a teaching order) and who have counseled abuse victims and testified on their behalf at trials and depositions. They know that world extremely well. One of them had confronted the Church leadership in his diocese, exposing an abusive priest, and he eventually took his fight to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. Both readers gave me detailed and invaluable feedback, and they both admire the book and said I got it right. I have their blessing.

TCU: Why should book lovers read this novel?

TZ: Concerned readers have been following headline stories about abusive clergymen for more than a decade, and the stories won’t go away. Every day there’s another revelation about the Church hierarchy covering up pedophilia in this parish and that parish. One thousand victims in the state of Pennsylvania alone. The pope and various bishops and cardinals are pointing fingers and assigning blame. If a reader wants to know how these crimes have been covered up for so long without coming to light, Outcry Witness will provide a compelling scenario. This is how it was done from the beginning—from the very first case to reach a bishop’s desk. The good news is, there are courageous men and women of faith who continue to demand justice and accountability. Many of them were victims themselves. This is their story.

Thomas Zigal is the author of seven novels and numerous short stories and essays. His novels have won the Jesse H. Jones Award for Best Work of Fiction from the Texas Institute of Letters, the fiction award from the Philosophical Society of Texas, and the Violet Crown Award from the Writers’ League of Texas. Outcry Witness is the final novel in his New Orleans trilogy, which includes the award-winning Many Rivers to Cross (TCU Press, 2013). He lives in Austin, Texas. Outcry Witness will be released in February 2019.

#Outcry Witness #Thomas Zigal #Catholic church #abuse #scandal

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alyssamanson5 · 6 years

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How Addiction Treatment Can Shape Your Future

I would say that, for a struggling addict or alcoholic, whether or not they choose to go to inpatient addiction treatment is the single biggest predictor when it comes to their quality of life in the future.

For those who refuse to get help and seek treatment, their future is going to be miserable, chaotic, and just plain dismal.

For those who choose to get professional help, they at least have a chance at creating a new life of freedom for themselves. Going to an inpatient treatment center gives you the option of total and complete freedom. This is because when you go to treatment they get you completely detoxified from drugs and alcohol while also teaching you about ways to maintain your recovery. It is up to you when you leave treatment to follow through with what they have taught you.

This is because going to inpatient rehab is not necessarily an instant cure or a magic solution to every struggling addict’s problems. It can be the starting point of a brand new life, but it can also just be a stepping stone on the way to the next relapse. The difference is all in the follow through and whether or not the individual fully embraces recovery or not.

In order to live a clean and sober life you have to change your lifestyle. In order to change your lifestyle you must change your daily habits. And in order to do that you have to listen to advice and put that advice into action. You cannot just decide for yourself that things are going to be different and then figure out a new lifestyle for yourself, by yourself. This generally does not work out so well.

The reason that you cannot self direct in early recovery is because of the tendency for us to sabotage our own efforts. Think of your addiction as the little devil figure on the shoulder of a cartoon character, trying to talk them into making bad choices. Our alcoholism and drug addiction seems to function exactly like that little nagging devil on our shoulder, trying to talk us into relapse.

Why does this happen? Because our drug of choice became our solution for nearly everything. When we had any sort of stress, anxiety, or struggle in our life, we used our drug of choice in order to cope and deal with it. So when we are first trying to get clean and sober, our brain is constantly reacting to things in the world by saying “hey, I know what would would help in this situation….” And so our own brain keeps trying to talk us into relapse, because that is the solution that it knows best, and that is what it is used to resorting to.

So in order to overcome that tendency we have to actually live a new solution and engage with different behaviors. So this cannot be a thought experiment and we cannot just “think our way into a different life.” That never works. The problem is that our own thinking will eventually get hijacked by the addictive thoughts.

So the solution is to engage with the new healthy behaviors without requiring any thought on our part. That is why we have to “make a decision” when we get clean and sober–we commit to recovery, we commit to a recovery program, and we commit to seeking out new solutions. Some people commit to trusting in a higher power, which is another way of saying that they are going to avoid trusting themselves and instead look for outside guidance and counsel. In this way we can seek out new solutions when life throws us a curve ball, and we can reach out to others and get help and support as we navigate our early sobriety.

Our brain–at least in early recovery from addiction and alcoholism–is trying to counter our efforts and lead us back to relapse. That is just how we have programmed ourselves because our drug of choice became our go to solution.

This is why they recommend that you go to 90 AA meetings in the first 90 days of recovery. No thought is required–you must only make one initial commitment to the program, and then you know that you are going to attend a meeting every single day, no questions asked. There is no room there for your brain to get in the way and try to sabotage your efforts. If the program suggested that you go to AA meetings “most days” then your brain would have plenty of wiggle room to work with, and eventually you would not be going to meetings at all any more.

This is also why it is smart to go to inpatient treatment. Sure, some people try to hack it “on the outside” by just going to meetings, maybe going to therapy or counseling, or doing some recovery groups. But this is never going to be as strong as going to inpatient treatment.

Why? For the same reason that you make the commitment to do 90 meetings in 90 days–now you no longer have to think about it. If you are at inpatient treatment for the next 28 days, you don’t even have to think about whether you want to get drunk or high today–that decision has already been made in advance, and now you are just along for the ride.

If you choose to stay “on the outside” and try to work your early recovery by hitting groups, therapy, and meetings, you are also going to have to constantly decide that you want to remain clean and sober. You have to keep doing that all day, every day, and that decision is going to wear on you.

When you are at inpatient treatment you only make that decision once: “I am going to rehab and therefore I will be clean for at least the next 28 days of my life.” Then you check in and you start following through with their programming and you never have to think about it again until you are “back on the outside.” You get 28 days of sober living without really having to work too hard for it. You just ask for help and check into a rehab.

If you want to shape a more positive future then you need to adopt more positive habits for your day to day existence. Trade out the bad habits that are left over from your life of addiction (such as self pity or resenting others, for example) and substitute in new, healthy behaviors (such as meditation, exercise, going to AA, etc.).

This is the essence of recovery–exchanging your bad habits for healthy habits. Once you do this consistently then you adopt a new lifestyle and you learn to live and enjoy life as a sober person. The problem is that this takes some time to establish before it starts feeling really good, so you need a way to resist those temptations that are bound to pop up in early sobriety. Going to inpatient treatment is the single best way to insure that you get at least 28 days of recovery under your belt before you have to go back out to the real world. This is the best possible way to shape your future and rebuild a life that is worth living in recovery. Good luck!

The post How Addiction Treatment Can Shape Your Future appeared first on Spiritual River Addiction Help.

from http://www.spiritualriver.com/addiction-treatment/how-addiction-treatment-can-shape-your-future/

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