#providential care
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In Awe Of God
It is a good day when you decide to develop your AWE of God. I promise you will never regret it. God bless ya. KimberlyMac
Amazing Awe-GOD
Amazing Awe-God! I don’t think I will ever get over how incredibly amazing God is. He is a spectacular Advocate for us. He does intervene majestically in our lives, there is no doubt about that. It is not always very comfortable the way He does things, His methods are definitely not the way we would sometimes choose to do things. God is very unique, but we can trust that He will…
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#2 Corinthians 9:10#advocate#Amazing#AWE#Awe-GOD#change#choices#constant conversation#courage#creative#creator#Decompartmentalized#evil#Exodus 14:21-22#faith#Finish well#finisher#God Communication#God Fix#God Wins#God&039;s grace#God&039;s Truth#God’s Endgame#Isaiah 55:8-11#Masterful God#miraculous#Moses#navigator#Providential care#Psalm 34:19-22
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Safe in the Hands of God
1 And the Lord said to Job:
2 “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?
He who argues with God, let him answer it.”
3 Then Job answered the Lord and said:
4 “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you?
I lay my hand on my mouth.
5 I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.”
6 Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind…
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#Behemoth#Creator-God#faith#God#hope#Job#Job 40#protection#providential care#provision#safety#Satan#sovereignty#the Almighty#the goodness of God#the love of God#the providence of God#the will of God#trust
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a kiss that says thank you
Whilst the memory of their ritualistic ripostes during Harmonia - splendid and dazzling as they doubtless were - had faded slightly, L’Arachel had still found herself stationed by Eirika’s door, determined to say… well something approaching the theme of thankfulness.
It had been hard in the moment, her intentions (perhaps too easily) waylaid with the proffered distractions of hot chocolate and a chance to rest after the utterly absorbing, and entirely exhausting ebbs and flow of battle.
She had perched near Eirika, cheeks rosy with victorious giddiness, sat together: two garlanded idols, statues interlinked in stone and granite, sharing one stand, formed by one craftsman. The metaphor was apt. Though they had been close, closer than L’Arachel had typically found herself to Eirika during their travels in Magvel, the words she wanted to say were instead drowned in cocoa and air thrumming with conversation. Eirika was beside her, and all she could do was turn to stone!
Petrified, quite literally, by the fear of… acknowledgment. L’Arachel was all too happy to partake in the sweet bonds of friendship, to savour the fruits of it: aid, help. But, Eirika was a different case. One she feared she'd ruin at any given moment. As such, she wanted to make due observance of all that she had done for them, leading them to victory with tome in hand.
To add further embarrasment to the entire affair, immersed in the glow of companionship, and hot chocolate, she had fallen asleep on her shoulder! Really, if thank you was beyond her, she was certain an apology wasn’t!
She stood, staring at the wooden door. Trying to read some sort of prompt the whirled grains.
Latona, what was she doing? This was foolish. Was she, some sort of bleary-eyed diviner trying to read the future in tea-leaves? Divine providence had lead her to this door, she had a duty as their beloved subject to see their plan to fruition. With that, she knocked three slow knocks on the door. They sounded dull, flat. Like a wyvern’s footfall.
Gentle footsteps met her heavy, awkward blows. A latch loosening. A door swinging open and then: Eirika. It was decently late. She had to bite back the urge to reach out and adjust her hair, slightly bed-ruffled. Focus on the task at hand. ‘Ah, Eirika! I apologise for the inconvenient hour.’ She grins, about as abashed as L’Arachel could ever be. ‘But the matter I come to you with is divinely sanctioned, and of the utmost import! You see, my dreams have been harranged of late by the troubling lack of thankfulness I showed during the Harmonia battles. It simply wouldn’t do, and so I said to myself, “Why L’Arachel, it is uncouth of a princess to be so inhospitable! You must make amend posthaste!” So here I am, darling Eirika, to make amends, I do hope you’ll…’
Any other words are silenced in the press of lips to a slightly clammy forehead. The words that had been passing from her thoughts to her lips are scattered onto the floor, completely upended and quickly trodden under foot. Even as the princess draws back, the pressure lingers. As if Eirika had given her a present, a circlet of gratitude to join her usual adornments. And had she not, she realised, been given a gift?
Reaching forward, she took her ally’s hand, planted a kiss firmly on the knuckles. ‘No, thank you. Truly.’ There’s a silence, and that’s enough for reality, the scoundrel, to steal back in. ‘I uhm, must leave now. The Gods are calling me to aid yet another innocent! Such is the life of a radiant minister to the needs of the common people!’ Her cheeks hot, (this time, without the aid of a warm drink), she turns and traipses into the corridor, doing her level best to tamp down any lingering shows of delight.
#asks: consult my wisdom!#in character: lights laughter alliteration!#support: l'arachel eirika / providential princesses!#((on a roll with the l'ara muse 2nite baby!!))#((hi eleven :"D I promis I didn't forget this ask I have in fact been abnormal abt it for a while))#((the way L'Ara reacts around the twins fascinates me))#((she is like 1000x more sensitive and self-conscious around them))#((which just goes to show how much she cares 4 them))#((and perhaps how much she worries that they don't feel the same </3 :sob:))#((long post))
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The Magi's View of Jesus, Is it yours too?
The Magi’s View of Jesus, Is it yours too?
Many Christians celebrate ‘Epiphany’ on January 6. It is a celebration of the arrival of the 3 Kings, the Magi, the Wise Men in the Christmas Story. This is a celebration of Christ’s birth, his childhood experiences and marks the end of the Christmas season for many by removing their Christmas decorations. Here is the scripture of this event from Matthew.
Matthew 2:9-12 “After they had heard the…
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"Theology of Suffering" is Catholic because it's Biblical.
"Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of His body, which is the church." (Colossians 1:24)
"...to know Him and the power of His Resurrection and [the] sharing of His sufferings by being conformed to His death..." (Philippians 3:10)
"...and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if only we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him." (Romans 8:17)
This doesn't mean refusing care or alleviation of suffering (1 Timothy 5:23). This doesn't mean that inflicting suffering is justified (Ephesians 5:29, 1 Peter 3:9). It means graceful resignation to where God has placed us for as long as His providential care keeps us there (Romans 8:32, Phillipians 4:16, James 1:17).
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i translated antoine's books under the cut
alright a few disclaimers first:
i'm an american; don't take these as gospel. i studied 7 years of classroom french. these are my qualifications.
i've left translators notes. these are marked as [TN: note] or simply within [square brackets].
antoine wrote part of forever's book prior to the second debate; i don't know when they were written. antoine's notes from after the second debate are marked.
cellbit's book was written entirely after the second debate.
these are just forever and cellbit's books as written by antoine. i don't have screenshots for the rest. maybe i'll track those down at some point (feel free to send screenshots and/or timestamps where the books are visible)
i included my screenshots for individual verification purposes; pardon the quality; you don't want to know how i got them.
if you redistribute the translation, keep the disclaimers. i don't care if you credit me just make sure people know where this came from
FOREVER:
Probably the person who wants to become the president the most. He's deeply involved in the lore of the island even if he doesn't communicate everything and hides information [TN: literally "truncates/shortens" information]. Close to BBH and Baghera. The three had very strange attitudes which are [fading/reducing] with the presidential election (withholding information, secret meetings). He seems to be moving away from the line of thought of Baghera and BBH. Wants to be president, but is part of the people who say they don't really want to be president. Relation with Cellbit a little strange and nebulous. Made a "safe space" in the favelas, I think it's mostly for him. People can have meetings anywhere, why have them only in a place provided by Forever himself? Does a lot of research on the island and takes initiative for the common good. Possibly the best choice for president, but the power already corrupts.
[ANTOINE'S UPDATES FROM THE SECOND DEBATE START HERE:]
Note: I take back what I said when I said "possibly the best choice for president". He doesn't listen [and] transforms this into an ego battle, which his sidekick [TN: "comparse", can also mean "stooge" lmao] Cellbit confirmed. Is ready to betray the people who have surrounded him (BBH & Baghera) for a long time for access to power. Has trouble taking people seriously. He has "homme providenciel" syndrome. Which he isn't.
[TN: I think by "homme providenciel", literally "providential / heaven-sent man", Antoine may be referring to the concept of 'a person who appears in times of crisis and presents as an ultimate savior charged with a historical or divine mission' (paraphrased translation from the Wikipedia article here); apparently this is a common figure in imaginary politics]
CELLBIT:
Same problem as Forever, [central/main] character who appropriates [TN: "approprier" can also mean "adapts"] a lot of the things that the Brazilians have done. His greatest pleasure was hanging out with Cucurucho. Could he be the real Federation candidate? It's very clear that Elquackity is corrupt, no one in their right mind would vote for him. Elquackity is a distraction, a lure. [Cellbit is] More dangerous than Forever. He speaks much better, is more composed, gets angry less quickly. Knows more than he says, don't give him more power than he already has.
#qsmp#qsmp antoine#qsmp forever#qsmp cellbit#if i see hate for forever or cellbit on this post i WILL throw hands#if i see hate for antoine on this post i will ALSO throw hands#shut up vic#block game brainrot#god i hope the keep reading works it's gonna be humiliating if it doesn't#sometimes keep reading links decide to just screw me over lol#anyway be mature you fucking fucks or i'll knock your teeth down your throats thx <3
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We do not know God in His essence. We know Him rather from the grandeur of His creation and from His providential care for all creatures. For by this means, as if using a mirror, we attain insight into His infinite goodness, wisdom and power.
-- Saint Maximus the Confessor
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[“How are we showing up for each other, and how come it sometimes feels so hard to do so? The language we have to describe exhaustion in the context of coalitional political work—burnout, compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma, self-care—doesn’t quite grasp the complicated reality of working to make one another’s (deeply interwoven) lives more livable in the broader context of institutional disinvestment and systemic harassment and discrimination that produces mutually resonant forms of traumatization and triggering.
I think through how we might begin to move beyond the rhetoric of burnout and toward a logic of postscarcity in order to do justice to the methods of collective support that we have spent decades actively inventing and elaborating—and to render them more robust. This necessitates really grappling with questions of care—how we understand it, how we measure it, how we account for it.
For far too long, both hegemonic and resistant cultural imaginaries of care have depended on a heterocisnormative investment in the family as the primary locus of care. Let me use a colloquialism from my years in the South: this ain’t right. Another colloquialism: this shit is fucked.
To state the obvious: some of us have okay relationships with our families of origin, but a whole lot of us don’t. A lot of us don’t have families, full stop. We lost them somewhere along the way. They rejected us. We had to escape them in order to survive. We cobbled together some network of support, some other kind of care web, instead. We might call that a family, too—a family of choice, a family constructed through consent rather than accident and forced relation. But whatever our relationship to family—the word, the construct, the ongoing practice of building one—it’s also obvious that our ability to flourish is reliant on forms of care that outstrip the mythic purported providential reach of the family.
One thing—maybe the main thing—I’m trying to do here is think about what care actually looks like in trans lives. This means decentering the family and beginning, instead, from the many-gendered, radically inventive, and really, really exhausted weavers of our webs of care.”]
hil malatino, trans care, 2020
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Divine Protection in Times of Crisis: An exposition of Psalm 91 by William Bridge (1600 - 1670)
Seven Takeaways or Key Concepts
The Nature of True Faith: Bridge clarifies what type of faith garners God's protection during crises. He describes it as a faith of recourse and habitation in God, turning to Him for shelter and protection, and trusting in Him above all else.
The Role of God’s Providence: The book emphasizes that those who honor God's providence will be kept by it. It suggests that during times of distress, believers should recognize and rely on the providential care of God.
The Ministry of Angels: It articulates the belief in the ministry of angels as instruments of God's protection, conveying that believers are not alone in their struggles but are supported by divine agents.
The Power of Repentance and Intercession: Bridge encourages repentance and intercession for oneself and others as a means to trust in God's protection during plagues.
Assurance of Salvation: He stresses the importance of having assurance in one's relationship with Christ, especially during times of uncertainty, as a source of comfort and confidence.
The Sovereignty of God in Trials: The book reaffirms the sovereignty of God over all events, including plagues, and the special care He extends to His people, contrasting it with the general fate of the ungodly.
These concepts are meant to provide spiritual comfort, reinforce the faith of believers in God's promises, and encourage a deeper reliance on divine providence and the workings of faith in the midst of adversity.
To explore these concepts further, download the free eBook
https://www.monergism.com/righteous-mans-habitation-ebook?fbclid=IwAR2Sa6lUAsohYqcAbNkzMUZfx50nHoJDCuqVaQ_KWtUOUOeWs6I7KnH_wag
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Scars
Summary: Jessica offered Aaron to come at the beach with Jack and her. But there is something she doesn't know about her ex-brother-in-law that prevent him to say yes.
Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Jessica Brooks, Jack Hotchner and David Rossi
Contents: this text is all about living with deep and visible scars, and to overcome (or not) the trauma of an assault like the one Hotch endured with Foyet. So, it's not funny at all (even if the end is supposed to be cute).
This is a text written for the CM Summer-Sunshine challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. The prompt chosen was: "it's getting hot outside and Character is self-conscious about their scars", mixed-up with "It's like Hotch at the beach". :D
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
PPS: Sorry for the dialogues, but the new posting system doesn't seem to know what a conversation is (well, Tumblr is clearly not the better place to post arts of any kind lately...).
___
Night had fallen on the U.S. East Coast by the time Hotch walked up the corridor to his apartment. Absorbed in a report he had to reread before transmitting to the Committee, he hadn’t seen the hour go by and had looked up from his desk when his entire team had already deserted the premises. As he closed the door of his office, he saw a message left by Jessica on his phone. Logically, she was asking when he’d be back. He mentally slapped his forehead before replying that he was on his way, and his insides knotted together.
He hadn’t had to beg Haley’s younger sister for help to get her to agree to take Jack into her care, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty when he left his son in her hands. The boy was risking absolutely nothing – perhaps even less than with him – but in Aaron’s mind, it wasn’t his ex-sister-in-law’s role to ensure his offspring’s education. But he couldn’t give up his job to devote himself fully to his role as a single father. Lives were at stake and, even if he doubted it some days, his team needed him.
Unable to make a choice at this hour, he repressed his galloping anxiety and entered his home. Jessica immediately turned her head in his direction. Busy in the kitchen, she took the few steps that separated her from the living room, wiping her hands on a tea towel, a warm smile lighting up her round face. She greeted him without making the slightest remark, and he put on a brave face as best he could. From where he stood, he could hear Jack’s voice and lapping from the open bathroom door.
“How did it go?”
“Good, no worries. As ever,” she added teasingly.
Hotch had always had a special relationship with Jessica. He’d met her before he’d met Haley, even though they hadn’t been in the same classes, and he’d quickly leaned on her to approach this teenager he believed to be an angel fallen from the heavens. Unable to articulate a proper sentence when she was less than a meter away from him, he had benefited from the providential help of this curly-haired blonde to act as a go-between. At the time, he thought the two girls were friends. It was only several months later that he learned they were in fact related by blood. A discovery he had taken badly at first, before realizing that there had been no malice behind their stratagem: he had never really asked what was behind their relationship.
Besides, all he had to do was pay more attention. Regularly, people worried about him being so close to a woman who looked so much like the one he’d lost, and he always retorted that they weren’t that similar. He sincerely thought so, but he wasn’t blind either, and still noticed the common traits the two sisters shared. Except for the blondness of their hair, they had the same nose, the same smile, and the same stature – not to mention the similar expressions and mannerisms. But Jessica wasn’t Haley. He had never felt for the former what he had felt for the latter, though he couldn’t quite explain it. And his feelings remained identical beyond the disappearance of Jack’s mother.
“Thanks again,” he said, embarrassed but grateful.
“You know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, he admitted, placing his suit jacket on the back of the sofa. Anything of note?”
“Yeah. There’s a parents’ meeting next Thursday.”
“Again?” he frowned, confused.
“It’s one every quarter, Jessica pointed out with a sneer at the corner of her lips. The headmistress would love you to be there this time.”
In his memory, the previous meeting had taken place just a few weeks earlier. But clearly, time had passed much more quickly than he’d thought. And yes, due to business that had propelled him to Nevada and Wisconsin respectively on the day in question, he’d missed the first two sessions and Jessica had once again dedicated herself to doing his job. As to whether he would be present at this one…
“Okay. I’ll send a message to all the sociopaths.”
Jack’s aunt smiled briefly, then instantly turned serious again. A reaction that didn’t escape his profiler’s instincts, although he made a point of not reading his relatives.
“Is there a problem?”
“Er… no. It’s just… she hesitated, dodging his gaze before jumping in. I would have liked to take Jack to the beach this weekend.”
“Sounds like a good idea, he reacted, reassured. He’ll love it. Have you talked to him about it?”
“Not yet. I wanted to check with you first.”
“I have no problem with that. It will do him good to see something other than the city.”
With the sun in the sky for several weeks already, his son was running around like a caged lion in this narrow, dark apartment. He demanded to go outside regularly and clung to the playground where his father and aunt took him until the last second. But he also talked to them a lot about what he saw in picture books or on TV, calling out to them to go and wander in more natural spaces than Arlington, Washington D.C.’s highly urbanized neighborhood.
“In fact, I was thinking of offering it to you too.”
Aaron flinched at the suggestion.
“What do you mean?” he asked, hoping he’d misheard.
“Come with us.”
A vise tightened around the BAU director’s torso, preventing him from breathing normally and panicking his heart rate.
“Uh… no,” he said, lowering his eyes.
“Why? You don’t have a case. What’s stopping you from coming?”
“I… I can’t,” Hotch stammered, leaning back on the couch to counter the vertigo that threatened to make him wobble.
“What? Can’t you swim?”
“Of course, I can. It’s just…”
Several spikes of pain shot through his chest simultaneously, forcing him to grit his teeth for a moment. It had never occurred to him that one day he’d have to tell what he’d been through to someone else than an FBI agent. Not this soon, at least. It was too recent. The memories were so vivid inside him, he could still hear his breath in his ear, he could still feel the metal puncturing his skin, tearing his clothes in the process. A metallic aftertaste even rose in his throat, as it had that night.
“Daddy!”
A pajama-clad rocket rushed toward him, his pale hair barely dry. Aaron’s smile automatically spread across his face, and he knelt down to take his son in his arms.
“Hey! Hi, buddy.”
He kissed him on the forehead and Jack pecked him on the cheek in return, his little arms firmly clasped around his neck. Even crouched, he was still immense to the five-year-old who was forced to stand on tiptoe.
“How did it go to school?”
“Great, asserted the boy, settling back to his heels. We learned the states.”
“So you know where you live now.”
“Virginia. But I already knew,” he added with a certain pride.
“Well done, son,” congratuled his father, kissing him again.
Hotch rose to his feet, lifting his descendant to the sofa. Standing on the cushion, the little boy questioned the two adults at once.
“What were you saying?”
“I was telling your father that I wanted to take you to the beach this weekend.”
“Oh, so good! He exclaimed promptly, his head swiveling in the direction of his progenitor. Are you coming with us?”
It was a logical question, but one that still embarrassed him. Even more so now that his audience had reached a single-digit age.
“Uh… I was just telling your aunt that it was going to be complicated for me to accompany you.”
“Why?”
Jack had entered that phase of childhood when every thought called for a question, the answer to which called for a new question.
“I… I can’t really go to the beach like you two.”
“Why is that? Is it because you’re an FBI agent?”
His son was very proud to have a father officiating for the Bureau, but the exact role he played there, as well as the ins and outs of the position, completely escaped him. Aaron had already tried to explain, without going into detail, but it was clear that his fertile imagination still greatly distorted the child’s image of him. Having seen so many cartoon series about superheroes forced to keep their identities secret, he must surely have thought that the man who raised him led the same double life.
“No, it has nothing to do with that.”
“So, why? I want you to come with us.”
Hotch turned his attention to Jessica, who simply returned his gaze. He realized she wasn’t going to help him out of this situation and wondered if she hadn’t deliberately brought it up in front of Jack to force him to talk. For if there was one thing he failed at more than anything else, it was communication. Many people had criticized him – and still did – for not expressing himself sufficiently and precisely. Haley had finally rejected him, tired of living next door to a safe that no longer told the story of his daily life. His employees scolded him for all the information he kept to himself, which often put his life in danger. His own mother never failed to point out that he didn’t give enough news. In short, he had to learn to talk.
“… Jack, can you go to your bedroom for a minute? We’ll… we’ll call you when you can come back.”
Jack pouted, disappointed to be dismissed.
“… Okay”, he relented, getting off the couch.
The profiler saw his son, head down, shuffle into his bedroom and heard the door slam shut. Jessica said nothing throughout, but her attention was immediately focused on her ex-brother-in-law as soon as the boy was out of earshot.
“What’s up?”
Where should he start? She, like Jack’s mother, knew what his real duties were withing the FBI. She knew that he tracked down serial killers and sociopaths of all stripes, and that his job wasn’t without its risks. She knew that her sister had been the victim of one of them, just as she knew that Aaron was not exempt of responsibility for this tragic end. But she was unaware of many of the details of the case, which were known only to his team members, his superiors and himself. Classified as confidential, it was logical that she should not be privy to them, but given the situation, he had no option but to lift the veil on some of them.
“Do you remember the day… - a knot formed in his throat – the day Haley and Jack went into protective custody?”
“Hard to forget.”
He guessed that she would have liked to add something, but the mere thought of those few words was surely too painful.
“That day, I was in hospital.”
“In hospital?”
“Yes. That’s why you didn’t hear it from me.”
The task had to be performed by a Witness Protection agent, more experienced in this kind of procedure than the BAU profilers.
“But… what were you doing there?” worried the young woman, confused.
“The guy who killed your sister, he began, giving up the idea of pronouncing his name; he broke into my flat the night before. And he stabbed me. In the chest. Nine times.”
Shocked, Jessica stumbled to the sofa, where she sat down heavily. Hotch remained motionless for a moment. He’d chosen not to go out of his way to make it clear what had happened, so that there could be no misinterpretation, but he was belatedly realizing that this kind of announcement – which was practically part of his daily routine – must be the equivalent of an uppercut for her. So, he took a seat beside her and continued, in a softer tone:
“I survived because he deliberately avoided vital organs, but the scars are there and… they’re clearly visible.”
When he had left the hospital, his mother had come to stay with him, to give him the care he needed to heal his wounds, and to make sure he was eating and hydrating properly. Despite his protests, he had no choice but to bow, exposing his mutilated torso to the woman who had given him life. But once she’d gone, it had been difficult for him to look at himself in the mirror again. Foyet had used a hunting knife with a serrated blade and hadn’t been too delicate. The cuts were deep, and muscle and skin had been torn indelibly. These marks, darker than his natural skin tone, had repulsed him violently. And later, when he had decided to face this disfigured body, tragedy had struck, and he was now unable to face his own reflection.
“I… I didn’t know,” Jessica murmured, suddenly terribly embarrassed by her insistence.
“I’ve never told you about it either,” he pointed out with a shy smile.
He hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings or make her feel guilty about anything. The number of people who knew that side of the story could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and he didn’t blame her for wanting so much to know why her proposal put him off so much.
“O… okay, she finally said. I understand that you can’t go shirtless, but… there are solutions. You… you could wear one of those swim shirts they put on kids to protect them from the sun.”
He could see what she was talking about, but at this hour, it still seemed an insurmountable challenge.
“Jessica…”
“It must exist for adults, she cut him off before he could argue further. Or, if you don’t want to swim, there’s nothing to stop you coming with us and staying in your t-shirt. You can play beach games with Jack.”
“Jess, you don’t understand…”
“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand that I just want you to spend time with your son. Because that’s what he wants.”
The next morning, David Rossi entered his neighbor’s office and the latter, staring into space, didn’t react to his arrival. The former pensioner held back a remark and, with a smile on his lips, walked over to the chair facing Hotch, sat down quietly, folded his hands over his stomach and said:
“Hello, moon? Earth here.”
“What? Gasped the manager, coming back to the present moment. Dave?”
“Hello, Aaron.”
“Well… Hello, he stammered, lost. Have you been here long?”
“An hour and a half.”
“Really?”
Aaron felt dizzy as he glanced at his watch and discovered that two hours had disappeared from his memory. He remembered arriving at dawn, passing the night shift ready for a well-deserved rest and settling down behind his screen. He then logged on, skimmed through the e-mails he’d received since leaving the previous day, and turned his attention to the agency’s accounts. His mind must have drifted off before he realized it, and now he found his mentor sitting across from him.
“No, I just sat down,” he admitted, smiling.
“Oh. Okay, he punctuated, somewhat relieved. Sorry, but Jack tells me that sometimes he calls me for fifteen minutes and I don’t react.”
“Children always exaggerate.”
“I’m not that sure, I taught him to tell the time.”
The child couldn’t exactly do calculations based on hours, minutes, and seconds, but he was already able to visualize, on watch with hands, what fifteen, twenty, thirty or forty-five minutes represented. And fussy as he could be on certain subjects, his father doubted he could have lied about it. He could even imagine him checking the clock in the living room to see how much time had elapsed between his first call and the reaction of the man who was supposed to be taking care of him.
“Anyway, I’m really just settling in, Dave quipped. What’s on your mind?”
Hotch sat back in his chair and sighed. He hadn’t necessarily intended to talk about his private life with the members of his team, but the man facing him was surely the one who knew him best and who, moreover, was aware of the latest events.
“Jessica would like to take Jack to the beach this weekend.”
“She’s right. It’s sunny, it’s going to be warm, and it’ll do him good to see something else than the four walls of the apartment.”
“I think so too.”
“But?” he bounced back, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, a mocking gleam in his eye.
The co-founder of the BAU had always had a very detached view of the world around him and, while he knew how to be serious when it was really necessary, he often sprinkled situations with sarcastic and ironic comments. Not born yesterday, he’d been through enough adventures to be able to take a step back from the misfortunes that befell his loved ones or himself and defuse the surrounding stagnation with a touch of humor that wasn’t always appropriate. An attitude that might exasperate some, but to which Aaron was accustomed.
“She wants me to come with them.”
“That’s a good idea too, he said, smiling frankly. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air.”
“I can’t go to the beach, Dave.”
“Why not? You can swim.”
The agency manager felt the nape of his neck tingle with annoyance. His interlocutor wasn’t an idiot, he knew exactly what the real problem was, but he was playing the fool in order to force him to verbalize what was on his mind. A tried-and-tested tactic, which worked all the more since Hotch had no objection to talking openly with him. More so than with any other agent on the floor or even in the building.
“That’s not the point. I remind you that I was stabbed in the torso.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right,” he pretended to remember.
“I can see it’s made an impression on you…” grumbled his superior, glaring at him.
Rossi let the eye attack slide over him and continued, still serene:
“Did you tell Jessica?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said that didn’t stop me from coming. All I had to do was put on a swim shirt, or anything else, and stay on the beach.”
“But?”
“That’s ridiculous! Erupted Aaron, irritated by the placidity of his interlocutor. I’m going to be the only guy dressed on the beach who won’t put a toe in the water.”
He could really see himself sitting on the sand, his top on his back, in front of a crowd of bathers merrily frolicking in the waves. He could even see the puzzled glances of his neighbors and hear the whispers of the low masses debating the strangeness of his behavior. Because, honestly, who bothered to make the trip to the coast to enjoy neither the sun nor the sea? Dave must have had a very different reasoning, for he rolled his eyes and, abandoning his snide expression, retorted in a more serious tone:
“First, no. I don’t think you’ll be the only one with something on your back. And secondly, she’s right. There are plenty of people who go to the sea without setting foot in it. Either because they can’t swim, or because they find the water too cold, or because they’re just there to sunbath. So nobody’s going to notice one more guy standing on the beach, staring at the horizon. Even less so if the guy in question is making sandcastles with his son or playing ball with him.”
Hotch didn’t reply, trying to conjure up memories of those rare trips to the ocean he’d made as a child. With his family scattered all over the country, he did indeed have cousins of his own generation with whom he’d spent a few summers breathing in the sea spray. But his childish mind had only retained the activities he’d shared with them, not the scenery that had hosted them. Were there really that many people dodging the tide? For him, the beach was the place of all complexes. The site by excellence where all humans had to face their fellow’s gaze on what seemed to them to be atrocious deformities. The place where all those who didn’t fit into the shackles of the beauty of the moment were not welcome. Like him.
“Aaron, you say yourself that you don’t spend enough time with Jack and that one day he’s going to hate you for that, Rossi pursued. Jessica is offering you an opportunity to do just that. Don’t turn it down because you’re afraid someone will inadvertently lift your shirt.”
Jack would be turning six in the next few months, and, at that moment, he still saw his father as an unbeatable hero who would capture villains and save lives. Reason enough for him to accept all his absences, but in four or five years, it wouldn’t be worth much.
“The time to spend with him is now. Not when he’ll be fifteen and won’t talk to you because you didn’t take care of him.”
Two days later, on a beach on the East Coast of the United States, Aaron was watching his son from a distance, sitting on the sand. He had put on swim shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt and, sunglasses on, waited near Jessica and Jack’s belongings, his gaze fixed on the latter. The little boy was wading next to his aunt, his arms and legs lapping in the cold water. Very much at ease despite the waves, he smiled and laughed happily, splashing his mother’s sister every chance he got. A discreet smile stretched the lips of his father, who felt a gently warmth invaded him at the sight of his offspring’s happiness. If it had been hard for him to get back on his feet, it was clear that Jack had bounced back and adapted to his new, rather peculiar life. However, Hotch doubted he had anything to do with it, given the obvious closeness between the nephew and his aunt.
Concentrating on his son’s exploits, he tried as best he could to ignore the people gravitating around him, coming and going from the sea to their towels, chatting about anything and everything in skimpy clothing, their skin exposed to all eyes. He could count on the fingers of one hand the people who were as scantily clad as he was, and he’d already come across a few frowns from his closest neighbors. Most of them were parents, probably worried about their children. If some were a few aware of the danger, others were perhaps a little too aware. Nevertheless, as long as he didn’t pretend to go near children, he was pretty sure no one would call the police to have him arrested.
“Crowded today.”
Surprised, Aaron looked up to discover a man standing next to him, wearing shorts and a mid-sleeves top, a cap screwed on his head. He must have been about the same age as him, despite his already graying hair. Without warning, the stranger sat down next to him, not in the least embarrassed to approach him in this way.
“Which one’s yours? he asked, without giving him time to answer. Mine’s the two little ones over there. In yellow and orange bathing suits. With their mother.”
He presented a trio of girls having fun some fifty yards away. If the girls weren’t twins, they must be barely a year apart, maybe even less. Older than Jack, they looked very much alike: the same chestnut hair cascading over their shoulders, the same morphology, and the same energy. Their mother held them by the hand, tensing every time the swell slammed its icy foam against her belly.
“Name’s Kurt. What’s yours?”
“… Aaron,” he answered after too long a hesitation.
“To tell you the truth, the beach isn’t my thing, Kurt continued. I was a jerk when I was a teenager and had a car accident. I went through the windshield. Miraculously, my face escaped the massacre, but from there to here – he pointed to his collarbone and down to his pelvis – it’s scar fair – front, back and arms with it. My wife doesn’t mind, she’s used to it; but you can imagine that getting half-naked in front of everyone isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. But my kids love to splash around, so I’m in.”
The BAU director hadn’t dared interrupt him, but the man had told his story with surprising casualness.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this, right?”
“Yes,” he confessed, confused.
“Because you’ve got the same face I had when I came back to sit on my ass on a beach afterwards, Kurt declared, more seriously. You’re scared. You’re scared everyone’s going to find out it’s Vietnam under there, and it’s going to scare the kids away.”
An ice cube fell into the pit of his stomach.
“I know, I thought the same thing. And then, one day, I was forced to take my top off. And you know what I discovered?”
“… No,” Hotch hesitated, nauseous.
“That my wife was right. Nobody cares. People are so focused on their navels that they don’t pay attention to their neighbors.”
Kurt stared at him for a moment, smirking, then went on:
“I know what you’re thinking: it’s all a bunch of hooey. The second you take your top off, all the girls are going to pass out – and not because of your charm. But I can assure you they won’t. Maybe two or three people will frown, then the teens will go back to taking their stupid selfies and the parents will remember that they forgot to put sunscreen on their kids.”
By reflex, Aaron observed the surroundings out of the corner of his eye and noted that those who had been distrusted by his behavior had indeed moved on. In appearance, at least.
“Mind you, I’m not saying it’s a simple process, admitted the man, it takes a little time. But one day, you’ll get there. You’ll forget what’s bothering you so much and go swimming with your son.”
“How…?”
“You can’t stop looking at the blonde with the curls and the kid.”
He showed with his chin at Jessica and Jack, who were carrying on unsuspecting with their ablutions. Without realizing it, he must have continued to watch his son at regular intervals, his paternal instinct more alert than ever.
“Daddy!”
“Ah, duty calls! Kurt joked as one of the little girls waved her hand in his direction. Have a good day, Aaron, and don’t forget to forget.”
Without further ado, the guy got to his feet and removed his top, which he kept in his hand. As he’d announced, his entire chest was lined with white scars, as were his arms from shoulders to elbows. With his skin already in the process of tanning, the net of scarred veins stood out even more. Several people wrinkled their noses at the sight of him, but Kurt ignored them completely, his attention focused on his daughters, whom he joined in a few strides. Hotch suddenly felt ridiculous with the small dark marks scattered here and there across his torso.
“Dad!” exclaimed a familiar voice nearby.
A kid was rushing towards him, throwing water and sand at the people in his path. He landed right on top of him, almost collapsing due to the unstable terrain.
“Take it easy, Jack,” advised his father, reaching out to catch him.
“What did the man want?”
“Information,” Aaron lied, spotting Kurt in the distance, playing with his daughters.
“Oh, commented his son, before abruptly changing the subject. Hey! Look what I found. It’s moving inside.”
He opened his clenched fist to reveal a shell whose operculum had been replaced by a cluster of pearly legs, tightly packed together.
“Yes, that’s normal. It’s a hermit crab.”
“Oh! What’s this?” shouted Jack, ecstatic, staring at the animal with a look more eager than ever.
“It’s a kind of crab without a carapace. That’s why he hides in a shell, explained his father, amused by his curious expression. You should put him back in the water. He’s probably scared, so he might leaved his shard, and then he’ll be in danger.”
“No! I don’t want him to die!” the boy suddenly panicked, closing his hand.
“Come on, let’s put it back in the water then.”
Hotch, who was more concerned about his son getting pinched like he had been years earlier, stood up and took Jack by the hand. They walked to the foreshore and, with their feet in the water, he instructed his offspring to place the crustacean on the sand. The boy obeyed, and the hermit crab quickly stood up on its claws and bolted out to sea.
“Funny!”
“Yes, nodded his sire with a smile. Do you want to go swimming with Aunt Jessica again?”
“No. I want to play with you.”
“You want to build a castle?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. So go tell your aunt you’re staying with me. I’ll take the shovel and bucket.”
“Cool!”
Jack ran towards Jessica at once, who had been watching them the whole time. Aaron climbed back into the bag he’d left behind and retrieved all the beach mason’s essentials. He then went back down to an area not far from the water, but still dry, which would be a more solid base for the construction to come. His son reappeared beside him, breathless, his hair a mess.
“Put your armbands in the bag.”
“Okay.”
Obediently, he galloped over to the towels, threw away his loose buoys and returned to him with an ear-to-ear grin. His father was tempted to send him back to actually put his things in the tote before a gust of wind blew them away, but his son’s spirit dissuaded him.
“Jessica stays in the water?”
“Yes. She said she was going for a swim.”
“Okay. Ready to make the biggest castle on the beach?”
“Yeah!”
He presented his left fist and Jack rapidly slammed his right fist into it. The duo then set to work, digging, shoveling, piling, and consolidating buckets and buckets of sand to build the most remarkable edifice in the area. All without a care in the world.
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#hotch#agent hotchner#criminal minds fanfic#code name mom#jack hotchner#jessica brooks#david rossi#writing challenge
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Pour Me Out
This is a beautiful "Worship Spotlight" song for you to connect heart to heart with God.
When you do things, do not let selfishness or pride be your guide. Be humble and give more honor to others than to yourselves. Do not be interested only in your own life, but be interested in the lives of others. In your lives you must think and act like Christ Jesus. Christ himself was like God in everything. He was equal with God. But he did not think that being equal with God was something to…
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#1 Minute Encouragement#Beach Devotional#believe God#caring#Christian#divine appointment#Encouraging#faith#God&039;s Harvest#God&039;s purpose#harvest#heart to heart#Hope#Luke 10:12#Place By God#Pour Me Out By Brandon Lake#Providential#Purposeful#Rumble: What Are You Splashing#servant warrior#sharing#The Bridegroom&039;s Cafe: Purposefully So
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The Source of all Sustenance
18 “You shall keep the Feast of Unleavened Bread. Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, as I commanded you, at the time appointed in the month Abib, for in the month Abib you came out from Egypt. 19 All that open the womb are mine, all your male livestock, the firstborn of cow and sheep. 20 The firstborn of a donkey you shall redeem with a lamb, or if you will not redeem it you shall break…
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#covenant#Decalogue#Exodus#Exodus 34#God#Israel#judgment#Moses#obedience#providential care#provision#rebellion#sin#Sinai#Ten Commandments#the Law#the love of God
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“L’Arachel,” the Renais Princess smiles towards her companion..though there is the slightest of strain, “you would not know how thankful I am to finally be fighting alongside someone I know. I suppose this is what you would consider to be ‘providence’.” The arena had been a test of sorts, and though it hadn’t been something she couldn’t handle, it was still much more refreshing to be working with a familiar face.
And despite that fact she still carried the telltale signs of worry on her expression. “All of this talk of crusaders is fitting for you, isn’t it? But, still..let’s do our best to not take it too far. After all, it would..be very troublesome if our opponents found out they were against such formidable foes!”
'Princess!' The title was shocked out of L'Arachel in a blend of word-association turned muscle memory; a prompt ready and waiting whenever she glimpsed that familiar blue hair. 'That is to say,' she halted in her forward charge towards the woman to take her hands, 'Eirika. You are erudite as ever! This truly is the work of divine providence. Our meeting must've been inscribed in the stars itself! It was only a matter of time.'
Worry was not in L'Arachel's rather extensive vocabulary, nor, unfortunately was restraint. But, she'd known Eirika long enough to recognise that slightly pinched expression which had crossed her face as less than joyous. Aiming for reassurance, she twirled her staff with a grin, unable to restrain the thrill buzzing through her skin at being reunited. 'Indeed, and we shall prove a truly ferocious duo!' Seeing the concern intensify on Eirika's face, she lowered the staff. That was evidently not the right answer. She cleared her throat. 'Ah, your mind for strategy shows your nobility! Yes, whilst I am unaccustomed to hiding such radiance, perhaps working our victory through subtlety would be best!'
#in character: lights laughter alliteration!#support: l'arachel eirika / providential princesses!#((sorry i know the period for intros ended recently timezones messed me up a little ;-;))#((i care these two so much))#TOAHarmonia
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LWA: I'm procrastinating again from professional writing, so I'll take the opportunity of you being uncomfortable with "God Ships It" to do my rant. When I started attempting to read GO fanfic, I was startled by how...panicked?...it is about the source material. The panic is most obvious when it comes to dealing with any of Crowley's character flaws--this is a fandom that gets very sentimental about how cruel Crowley might be to his plants, but then does a Bentley-sized swerve when it comes to how cruel Crowley is to /Aziraphale/ when he /successfully/ manipulates him into trying to kill the Antichrist for him--but it also comes out in its treatment of religion.
The irony of post-S2 fanfic is that pre-S2 fanfic overwhelmingly endorses Aziraphale's attitude to Heaven (without realizing it). That is, it implicitly or explicitly assumes that Heaven has become warped in the absence of God, and that the presence of God Herself (or Himself, in the novel) would provide the "good" alternative. Heaven, that is, can be reformed if the real authority would just stand up. Moreover, there are multiple fics that really do assume that being an angel is better than being a demon because angelic grace means they are still in touch with the divine, and there are even fics that posit how great it would be if Crowley were reinstated to angelic status. "God ships it" rests on the assumption that the GO God is "good," that His/Her "shipping" is beneficent and rooted in care specifically for the protagonists (particularly if it proves to be part of the ineffable plan), and that His/Her imprimatur is desirable and necessary.
None of these assumptions are supported by the novel or series. (I keep wanting to write "Source for this claim?" in the margins.) Gaiman inadvertently sets the stage for "God ships it" by making God the narrator in S1, but "God reports it" is not the same as "God ships it." More to the point, both the novel and the series reject the terms of Pascal's Wager: if we cannot be assured of the existence of God or the nature of God's will, GO responds, then the correct course of action is to locate moral authority "on the ground," as it were, in human communities, and to proceed as if /God does not exist./ (Anathema burning the second book of prophecies is a case in point.) Moreover, in the series we are shown repeatedly that God's actions violate human (and angelic and demonic) moral norms, particularly in repeated sacrifices of children, and viewers are not invited to side with God! There is no evidence that the GO God is good, or loving, or even fundamentally decent in a way that can be articulated in terms of earthly morality. God's ways are incomprehensible, which is why, as I said before, attempts to do theology in GO-verse don't arrive at anything coherent. There is certainly no sign that God thinking you're a great person is going to do wonders for you (see: Job). And after seeing what God either causes to happen directly or allows to happen by withdrawing, there are no circumstances under which centering the protagonists' love lives makes God look any better. ("Isn't it amazing that all the horrors of the past several millennia had to happen just so Aziraphale and Crowley could be in love?") Finally, the "shipping" suggests that it is /desirable/ that the characters' love be divinely authorized or that they should be outright directed into a relationship by providential means, even though GO is all about the centrality of free will and the necessity of learning how to choose. So...no.
hey, look LWA; far be it for me to tell you how to spend your breaks in between work but i do have to question your decision that any part of that break is spent delivering Hot Tea to my inbox - but im never going to complain about it, rant away!!!✨ (also - hope the writing is going well, procrastination or no!!!)
it does make me uncomfortable for this one simple reason:
"god does not play dice with the universe. i play an ineffable game of my own devising."
so look - i know it's literally god speaking. she can do as she pleases, whatever. but to think that she tampers with her best and yet most ironic invention truly unnerves me - that she takes free will, and manipulates it to her design - and even more alarming is that that design is completely unknown and unknowable to anyone other than her. honestly, it's this kind of thought that makes me steer well clear of any religious leanings personally; people will make decisions and will mess them up and will succeed with them, but the thought that those occurrences were "god's will", or down to a higher power... well, it's not a good feeling, in my opinion. extrapolate that thought to any real life scenario as you will.
but in any case, to apply this to GO gives me the same sense of unease. i have still the thought that there is going to be a clear, definitive line between the great plan and the ineffable plan in the narrative. that seems to have been set up very firmly in s1, and arguably becomes way more understated yet elaborated on in s2 (job and resurrectionist minisodes) until the end when metatron mentions the second coming. id absolutely love for it to be a huge narrative point in s3 again; the ultimate long-con chekhovs gun metaphorically jamming, backfiring, and spraying shrapnel all over the place.
but which is worse? a great plan that at the very least almost everyone of influence in heaven, including aziraphale if you hypothesise based on his knowing of the plans for the humans/earth in the pre-fall scene, has seen or at least seen bits of, and now presumably will work to ensure will come to pass because they know better than to question something metaphorically written in stone? an awful concept at face value, fulfilling prophecy, but at least you'd know what you're getting - you're buying what's advertised. i got rather ensconced in looking up some biblical stuff the other night, thinking about something similar to this, and:
And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. (Matthew 24:6 - KJV)
that is terrifying, even if you take into account "the end is not yet", because that is ominous as all hell. but is it more terrifying that the ineffable plan, that is controlled and shaped and enacted by only one entity, cannot be questioned or challenged until it has already come to pass? that it is not of even questionable morality, but unknowable morality? god does not play dice, because that would be fairer - that would leave things up to chance... free will. instead she is playing by something only she knows, only she can control. so in that first quote, i interpret that she is either directly or indirectly telling the audience not to trust her and her actions. maybe god is self-aware, maybe not. she's ineffable.
so, even if the great plan is awful and inevitable, is it better to anticipate exactly what's coming? better the devil you know? either way, between the two, you're actually caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. that's the whole dilemma, the whole point, i know. but this is where i come to the "god ships it" trope: i originally thought that aziraphale and crowley being a part (and possibly inadvertently cocking up) the ineffable plan by way of their love story would be a great plot device - until i realised that, to be honest, that would a) feel like lazy writing with very little nuance to be had, and b) directly contradict my whole thought process on free will.
i do think they're involved in the ineffable plan, have a stake and place in it. i don't think, in some way, that there's any way they can't be. but it would have to be for god's benefit (ie whatever conclusion for the world she's currently got running on standby mode), and i don't think god, being what/who she is, would be able to understand love like that. she might foresee it, being omniscient and all, but what would she know about it? love is something to be felt, and that kind of love (unless GO is going to take a very weird turn) is not something she could ever experience. she sees it, sure, in her creations, but that's not knowing it.
so no, i don't think god has any place in the relationship between aziraphale and crowley. if anything, her mere existence is the ultimate barrier to it, through crowley's resentment, hurt, and anger, and in aziraphale's naivety, blind faith, and own brand of god complex. to give her seal of approval to any of it would be redundant anyway; it wouldn't change anything, it doesn't prove anything, and it immediately questions whether the characters choosing to have a relationship of any kind is of their own free will or was predetermined and inevitable. so, no, thank you.
i would like to think god is good - because if there is a higher power, you just have to hope that they don't have it out for you, right? - but logically she just... is. arguably, she is beyond morality, and arguably she is both good and bad. she makes bets with satan to test the faith in her most loyal faithful - which again, it might have been the great plan to make job suffer, but equally it might have been the ineffable plan for aziraphale and crowley to thwart it at great risk, sacrifice, and pain to their psyches... frankly, it's fucked either way you slice it.
(and it does make me wonder about why this appears to be the last that we actually see of god's 'physical' presence in heaven so far...)
furthermore, the issue in the resurrectionists; not even just aziraphale's alarming speech completely disregarding inequality as a means of arriving at a ridiculous point about morality, but - did god have a hand in having aziraphale and crowley come across elspeth and morag, leading to aziraphale starting to question what right and wrong is (rather unsuccessfully, he swings between redefining the two like a sodding metronome)? and equally have a hand in morag's death, that made aziraphale potentially retreat back to his usual standby of exalting in god's power and mercy? but leads to elspeth being able to live a better life? unknown, but this possibility does indicate that no, she isn't good, and she isn't bad, she's just playing a game that has an equal chance for the rest of us as being a good or bad move (insomuch that only she knows what game and rules she's playing - schrödingers chess move, really).
that's why aziraphale's decision at the end of s2 is so important to me. he spent the previous episode playing at being god, moving pieces around the board in a series of patterns as he pleased in order to reach the check, but having little regard for them in doing so - removing their free will and ability to think or feel or act independently, but equally whilst never at any intention of causing harm. does that make it okay? of course not - it's playing a game only he knows how to play.
so to then look at heaven as being something that he could change, should change - because he's being handed the opportunity - is meritable; he's not leaving it up to someone else, not following blind faith that "the almighty will fix it", he's choosing to be the change himself. and there's no confirmation at all that he's doing it to return it to what he considers to be god's original intention; as it stands, we have to assume that he's just going to fix/change/improve it for the wider benefit of everyone. but then again - is this fair? that at the top of heaven there will essentially only be aziraphale (not counting the metatron), and his vision, his decisions? perhaps that's why it was also so important to see that conference meeting in ep6 - it's not just the supreme archangel in charge; there is a precedent, however questionable the board of directors, of democracy in heaven.
lastly, just to touch on it: i think it would have been an interesting conundrum if crowley had accepted the restoration; whether it would have changed him, erased parts of him involuntarily, or if he would have remained as just crowley and used the opportunity to bring down the second coming and heaven's corruption from the inside. as it stands, we'll never know - but there never was any true characterisation reward to be had from making him an angel again, and it would have been a weird choice for him to make. the way it went down was exactly as their characters are and believe.
(putting this into a separate section because my mind just got a factory-reset by this point and my having a philosophy-realignment moment didn't really fit in any of the above very well):
it's really interesting to bring in pascal here, because i wouldn't have seen GO as rejecting it altogether on first glance (ie not contradicting you, just realigning my thought process). so... my initial thought is that GO eradicates at least half of the wager by confirmation that god exists, full stop (aaaand immediately going off on a long tangential thought of how different the story could be if we didn't have god as the narrator/no confirmation of god in the book other than in abstract, and therefore the pascal wager could theoretically apply - big yikes). removal of the dead-end outcomes leaves you with receiving either damnation, or eternal peace. but add in the element of ineffability, as you say, and the entire argument is rejected altogether... it makes sense to have GO reject such a binary argument, and the whole representation of agnes as being a stand-in personification (?) for god, in that respect, and anathema essentially rejecting her, carries so much more weight for me now... thats so cool to think about, thank you!!!✨
#good omens#quite a few new followers so let me explain#if you're new here: this happens once or twice a week at most#LWA pops in for a cuppa and a GO/philosophy chat (very one sided they are v smart) and then goes on their merry way again#i dont know why they do it in my ask box but im not examining that too closely#there's evidently something here that draws them in and fuck knows if i know what it is#but yes they are a legend in these halls (i sometimes get random messages asking if theyve appeared in my inbox again)#just dont expect any particularly insightful responses from me but i try my best#the legend of the longwinded anon✨#not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy#ask
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🪥-wise j’étais au bord de la syncope pdt la 1re scène du parloir 🕴️ shouting match. longing looks. there’s a literal wall between them. going from "I don’t need you" to "pls get involved in this mess and let my kid hide evidence" to "thank you" 😭😭😭😭 their other scenes were for the books too--asking her to work her magic, but she’s under pressure when suddenly "ouf c’est de l’or massif", mentalité de pie 😂
the carat-dec joke was so precious (mdr), les rapports se réchauffent !!! I’m glad there weren’t proper callbacks to earlier eps this time (except for the bookshelves!!), it left room for New stuff. plus some bits felt comfortingly familiar, like adam’s gestures when he asked morgane to get to the point (la petite graine !) 🥲❤ oh, & re: céline’s slippery slope… confirms she and adam are basically the same person. royal couple of getting roped into dates with people they’ve antagonized 😆
don’t you think "ça voulait dire quelque chose" was a bit too much? I wish both of them were in the dark about the other’s feelings. how are we gonna get that sweet, sweet pining if they know mutual affection is a real possibility? (+ don’t want roxane to become The Obstacle) we need a couple irremediable misunderstandings, stat 😈 tho the shot where they’re finally face to face outside was 😙👌 five feet apart but they were feeling awfully close 🥰🥰🥰❤
God, le parloir !! 😱😱 I'm glad I already knew about that scene before otherwise I would have died on the spot 😭 The way they look at each other, the way they talk, and you're right the evolution too, Adam compulsively yelling "I don't want to be involved with this" while actually being totally involved with this, Morgane being so angry, Adam qui s'exécute à toutes les conneries qu'elle lui demande sans rechigner (se baisser alors qu'on entend très bien, lui montrer le dossier à travers la vitre, arrêter de la regarder -- speaking of, arrêtez de me regarder j'arrive pas à me concentrer si c'est pas un aveu qu'il la trouble 🥹🥹, demander à Théa de planquer une pièce à conviction...)
Lol, mentalité de pie, le retour 😂
100% agreed re Adam's gesture, I too thought about the little seed joke!! And also I'm not sure I'd say their interactions are warming up, but they do seem to fall into reassuring, familiar patterns 🥲💕 Also the fact that Adam basically ran to the prison since Morgane's not even done with her check-in that he shows up in the parlor 🥹🥹
Oh gosh I didn't notice the ginormous parallel between Céline and Adam's date, to me Céline's arc felt like something exactly similar that happens in Engrenages, but I love how it applies to Adam and Roxane (hopefully not with the same outcome though?)
Now for "ça voulait dire quelque chose"... Oh boy...😱
I don't think it was too much at all, considering how Adam's previous words (ep 1 flashback) literally drove Morgane to quit and disappear for six months, and it probably would've lasted forever if it wasn't for this providential case. And I think he's aware of that, aware of his mistake, so this is his attempt at making up for what he said ("ça voulait rien dire") which obviously hurt her. I think she needed to hear that it actually meant something. And also for him it's perhaps the first time he's vocalizing out loud that he actually cares about Morgane, and that she's not just a pain in the ass. (Okay actually he said it before. It's just that he told her the exact opposite an hour later so the message may have gotten a bit confused lol).
ALSO HE TOLD HER THAT LOSING HER WAS HIS BIGGEST REGRET IN LIFE AND NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE THANK YOU VERY MUCH 😱🥹😭⚰️
And I don't think this is going to end all their misunderstandings, because he instantly tempers it with the words "collègue" et "amie". After how hard he broke her heart, Morgane is probably done living on false hopes, so she's not gonna try and read more in those words than what he actually said. And what he said was I care about you as a friend (sure Jan).
So for me they're both still in the dark re each other's feelings. They probably picked up on the fact that they do not hate each other (well, Adam probably thinks she does now, but that she actually didn't when he kissed her lol), but they most certainly have no idea of how deep they're actually pining for the other's affection 💔
Also this whole scene 😘😘😘 And the five feet apart shot, the way they slowly walk towards each other, et leurs pas sont absolument SYNCHRONES ???? No wonder it's literally the first thing I giffed from that new season 😭❤️
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when dating someone, how do you guard your heart while still being open to them? this has always confused me
"To love at all is to be vulnerable..." I think there is an element of hope and expectation with another person, while still understanding they may not choose you or you may get to know them more and realize you will not choose them. I try to just handle things a bit loosely in the sense of ultimately knowing God's providential will is what I desire and he will take care of me. If I worry too much about my heart and became slightly fearful of others in the sense of what could or couldn't happen, then I feel like I am trying to live in fear and be controlling. Be open, but know your worth in the Lord, and have your ultimate hope and expectation be in Him.
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