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kemetic-dreams · 4 years

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IS IT BLACK OR AFRICAN OR AFRICAN AMERICAN?

HAD A RECENT RUN IN WITH AN ASIAN PATIENT OF MINE. WHO ASKED ME, AFTER I STATED MY NAME. WHAT DO I CALL YOUR PEOPLE? I HEAR SOME PEOPLE SAY BLACK, THEN AFRICAN AMERICAN,COLORED, AND SOMETHING CALLED MELANATED BEINGS?

SO THE BIG QUESTION WHAT DO WE CALL OURSELVES? I AM CONFUSED.

YOU MUST UNDERSTAND AFRICANS NEVER SPOKE ENGLISH

AFRICANS NEVER HAD A UNIFYING LANGUAGE

THE BASIS OF AFRICAN IDENTITY LET ALONE ALL IDENTITIES COMES FROM ETHNIC IDENTITY.

WHY WOULD AFRICANS BE MESMERIZED BY COLOR

REAL IDENTITIES ARE AUTONYMS, EXAMPLE AMAZULU IS A IDENTITY THAT THOSE GROUPS OF PPL WITH OUT FOREIGN INTERVENTION CAME UP WITH.

EUROPEANS NOR ASIAN CAME UP WITH THE TERM ZULU

THE TERM IFIRIYA OR AFRICA COMES FROM THE VARIOUS ETHNIC GROUPS FROM NORTH AFRICA

AFTER HANNIBAL WAS DEFEATED, SCIPIO NAMED HIS SELF AFTER THE LAND

ALSO AFRICA COMES FROM Massey, in 1881, stated that Africa is derived from the Egyptian af-rui-ka, meaning "to turn toward the opening of the Ka." The Ka is the energetic double of every person and the "opening of the Ka" refers to a womb or birthplace. Africa would be, for the Egyptians, "the birthplace."

WHEN WE SAY WE ARE AFRICAN WE ARE STATING OUR RAICAL ORIGINS. NOT A NATIONALITY

IS YOUR SKIN COLOR BLACK?

NO OUR SKIN IS NOT BLACK NOR DO ALL AFRICAN LOOK ALIKE OR MYOPIC

Human skin color ranges in variety from the darkest brown to the lightest hues. An individual's skin pigmentation is the result of genetics, being the product of both of the individual's biological parents' genetic makeup, and exposure to sun. In evolution, skin pigmentation in human beings evolved by a process of natural selection primarily to regulate the amount of ultraviolet radiation penetrating the skin, controlling its biochemical effects

Black people refers to a racialized classification of people, usually a political and a skin color-based category for specific populations with a mid to dark brown complexion. Not all Black people have dark skin; in certain countries, often in socially based systems of racial classification in the Western world, the term "Black" is used to describe persons who are perceived as dark-skinned compared to other populations. It is mostly used for people of Sub-Saharan African descent and the indigenous peoples of Oceania. Indigenous African societies do not use the term Black as a racial identity outside of influences brought by Western cultures.

For some individuals, communities and countries, "Black" is perceived as a derogatory, outdated, reductive or otherwise unrepresentative label, and as a result is neither used nor defined, especially in African countries with little to no history of colonial racial segregation. Some have commented that labeling people "Black" is erroneous as the people described as "Black" are seen by some to have a brown skin color.

WHO CAME UP WITH THE IDEA TO CALL AFRICANS BLACK

AFTER THE BACONS REBELLION, WHEN EUROPEANS AND AFRICANS HAD A REVOLT, THAT DESTROYED PLANTATIONS

It was the first rebellion in the North American colonies in which discontented frontiersmen took part (a somewhat similar uprising in Maryland involving John Coode and Josias Fendall took place shortly afterwards). The alliance between European indentured servants and Africans (many enslaved until death or freed), united by their bond-servitude, disturbed the ruling class. The ruling class responded by hardening the racial caste of slavery in an attempt to divide the two races from subsequent united uprisings with the passage of the Virginia Slave Codes of 1705.While the farmers did not succeed in their initial goal of driving the Native Americans from Virginia, the rebellion resulted in Berkeley being recalled to England.

AFTER THE LEADER OF THE REBELLION DIED LAND OWNERS, REACHED OUT TO LAW MAKERS FROM LONDON CAME OVER FOR HELP AND TO BE ADVISED

FIRST THING THEY DID WAS BAN INTER RACIAL MARRIAGES

THEN THEY DECIDED THAT AFRICANS WOULD NEVER GET OUT OF SLAVERY.

THIS IS WHEN THE TERM WHITE AND BLACK WERE DEVELOPED. BLACK MEANING YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS, AND WHITE MEANS YOU DO HAVE RIGHTS

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SO WHEN WAS THE MAJOR CHANGE

By that time, the majority of African people in the United States were native-born, so the use of the term "African" became problematic. Though initially a source of pride, many Africans feared that the use of African as an identity would be a hindrance to their fight for full citizenship in the US. They also felt that it would give ammunition to those who were advocating repatriating black people back to Africa. In 1835, black leaders called upon Black Americans to remove the title of "African" from their institutions and replace it with "Negro" or "Colored American". A few institutions chose to keep their historic names, such as the African Methodist Episcopal Church. African Americans popularly used the terms "Negro" or "colored" for themselves until the late 1960s.

In 1988, the civil rights leader Jesse Jackson urged Americans to use instead the term "African American" because it had a historical cultural base and was a construction similar to terms used by European descendants, such as German American, Italian American, etc. Since then, African American and black have often had parallel status. However, controversy continues over which if any of the two terms is more appropriate. Maulana Karenga argues that the term African-American is more appropriate because it accurately articulates their geographical and historical origin.

Others have argued that "black" is a better term because "African" suggests foreignness, although Black Americans helped found the United States. Still others believe that the term black is inaccurate because African Americans have a variety of skin tones. Some surveys suggest that the majority of Black Americans have no preference for "African American" or "Black",although they have a slight preference for "black" in personal settings and "African American" in more formal settings

The United States is weird on labeling people. At one point all Europeans were not considered white, ironically at the same time Asians were considered to be white. They say white and black are skin colors, but at what point do we call Asians a myopic color. According to the United States Census, because I have North African ancestry, I am considered to be white.

Are Mexicans white?

The official racial status of Mexican Americans has varied throughout American history. From 1850 to 1920, the U.S. Census form did not distinguish between whites and Mexican Americans. In 1930, the U.S. Census form asked for "color or race," and census enumerators were instructed to write W for white and Mex for Mexican. In 1940 and 1950, the census reverted its decision and made Mexicans be classified as white again and thus the instructions were to "Report white (W) for Mexicans unless they were definitely of full Indigenous Indian or other non-white races (such as Black or Asian)."

During periods in U.S. history when racial intermarriage wasn't legally acknowledged, and when Mexicans and Mexican-Americans were uniformly allotted white status, they were legally allowed to intermarry with what today are termed non-Hispanic whites, unlike Blacks and Asians. They were allowed to acquire U.S. citizenship upon arrival; served in all-white units during World War II; could vote and hold elected office in places such as Texas, especially San Antonio; ran the state politics and constituted most of the elite of New Mexico since colonial times; and went to segregated white schools in Central Texas and Los Angeles. Additionally, Asians were barred from marrying Mexican Americans because Mexicans were legally white.

U.S. nativists in the late 1920s and 1930s (mostly due to the socially xenophobic and economic climate of the Great Depression) tried to put a halt to Mexican immigration by having Mexicans (and Mexican Americans) declared non-white, by virtue of their Indian heritage. After 70 years of being in the United States and having been bestowed white status by the U.S. government this was the first time the United States began to show true racist attitudes towards Mexicans in America something that usually came quickly to people of other races. They based their strategy on a 1924 law that barred entry to immigrants who were ineligible for citizenship, and at that point, only blacks and whites, and not Asians or Native Americans, could naturalize and become U.S. citizens. The test case came in December 1935, when a Buffalo, N.Y., judge rejected Jalisco native Timoteo Andrade's application for citizenship on the grounds that he was a "Mexican Indian." Had it not been for the intervention of the Mexican and American governments, who forced a second hearing, this precedent could very well have made many Mexicans, the majority of whom are mestizo, ineligible for citizenship. When mixed race Mexicans were allowed to retain their white status in American society they were unperturbed with the fact that the United States still continued its discriminatory practices towards Mexicans of full Indigenous heritage.

During the Great Depression, Mexicans were largely considered non-white. As many as 400,000 Mexicans and Mexican Americans were deported in a decade-long effort by the government called the Mexican Repatriation.

In the 2000 U.S census, around half of all persons of Mexican or Mexican American origin in the U.S. checked white to register their race (in addition to stating their Mexican national origin).Mexican Americans are the largest white Hispanic group in the United States.

The idea of color is a European colonial disease not an African one.

African is a racial origins term

Saying your Jamaican,Nigerian,Ethiopian,Canadian,Mexican, or Brazilian are Nations/Nationality

Saying Amhara, Sicilian, Irish, Yoruba, Zulu, or Han are examples of Ethnicities

African American is not an ethnic group but clusters of different ethnics from Africa in the Americas.

Black is nothing more than a class system designed by Europeans

Just because your born in Germany doesn’t change your race.

When do Asian people stop being racially Asian just because they moved to a different nation

So, why does this happens to Europeans or Africans

There is no such things as a black language, skin color, or names or even a black or nation called black

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architectuul · 3 years

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Emblem Of A Better Germany?

In 2014, at the 14th Venice Architecture Biennial, Alex Lehnerer and Savvas Ciriacidis placed the armoured limousine once used by then Federal Chancellor Helmut Kohl in front of the German Pavilion.

Read also “The Invisible Church”, “What Fundamentals? Revisiting Treasures in Disguise: The Ominous Ruins of Montenegrin Modernism” and “The Greek Experiment”

It was a black Mercedes-Benz car with its famous star that added the air of a different era, the Federal Republic of Germany before the fall of the Wall, when its capital was Bonn on the Rhine River in West Germany, and not Berlin. Placed before the steps of the monumental façade of the German pavilion, once build as the Bavarian pavilion and then decisively altered by Nazi Germany in 1938, every German visitor would read this car as a sign, an emblem of what came to be known as “Made in Germany”, high quality cars, machines, and other industrial goods that were seen as responsible for the so-called “Wirtschaftswunder” (economic miracle) after WWII, the economic rebuilding of West Germany.

On the one hand, this car is a desirable object, vintage and expensive. In my family, you knew you had made it when you could afford a Mercedes-Benz. You could tell, when my parents bought their first Mercedes-Benz, they were full of pride. And they still drive the same car and feel the same way about it, although now it’s a rather old car.

On the other hand, you could also read the continuities of 20th century German history into this juxtaposition of car and pavilion. Because what is the link between the Nazi façade and the later car? You might answer this question with the seamless integration of Nazis in German politics and business and the financial gains of many German companies (including Daimler-Benz) during the Nazi period thanks to forced labor, expropriation, and simple opportunism. The juxtaposition places you, at least as a German, between guilt and pride, haunting memories and desire.

Adjacent to the left of the big front door of the German pavilion in Venice, the visitor was greeted by an elegant section of a roof jutting out above a much smaller door. It was a hint that the interior of the pavilion was taken over by another structure, a partial replica of the former Chancellor’s residence in the former capital of the country formerly known as West Germany. A somewhat nostalgic remnant of a bygone past, a country and political system that were fundamentally altered by the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany. It was the Germany I was born into, with Bonn being the capital until 1999 and the Chancellor’s residence – or Kanzlerbungalow (‘Chancellor’s bungalow’) – constantly in the news. As much as it was nostalgic, Lehnerer and Ciriacidis’ pavilion had an uncanny feeling to it. Inside and outside were suddenly called into question, different times collapsed into each other, with the democratic bungalow inserted into the Nazi pavilion. Or was the story told more complex than that, as with the car parked in front of the pavilion? The story was, for sure, one about architectural representation.

The Chancellor’s bungalow was built in 1964 by the architect Sep Ruf for Ludwig Erhard, the second Chancellor of West Germany. Erhard was the German politician who stood like no other for the ‘economic miracle’ of West Germany after WWII. As the Federal Minister of Economic Affairs under Chancellor Konrad Adenauer from 1949 until 1963, when he became Chancellor himself for three rather unlucky years, he promoted what he termed the social market economy and gained widespread popularity with this economic concept. Although Erhard worked for the German state as an economist during the war, he rejected Nazism and was in contact with members of German resistance groups. It seems fitting therefore that as Chancellor he hired the fellow Bavarian Sep Ruf to design the new Chancellors residence in Bonn. Ruf was known for his functional designs in the tradition of the Bauhaus and older modern architects, who had mostly emigrated during the 1930s, like Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Ruf’s elegant bungalow in Bonn payed homage to designs of the Bauhaus and Mies in particular. The latter’s Barcelona Pavilion, the German Pavilion at the 1929 International Exposition in Barcelona, has often been mentioned as a reference.

Dining room of the bungalow of the Chancellor in Bonn.

By 1964, Ruf had already worked for the federal government several times. Together with another modernist architect of the postwar period, Egon Eiermann, he had for example built the German pavilion for the world fair in Brussels in 1958. He was, thus, well informed about West Germany’s representational needs. The Chancellor’s bungalow spoke not only of the Bauhaus and the better, modern Germany that was supposed to be represented by buildings in its tradition like those of Ruf, Eiermann and others, but it also established a clear link to modern architecture internationally. Looking at the bungalow, some might be reminded of the famous Case Study Houses at the West Coast of the USA. After all, it was the declared aim of West German politicians to make the Federal Republic part of the Western political sphere (‘Westbindung’, or policy of the alignment with the West). I would guess that these two aspects, the tradition of a better, modern Germany and the alignment with the West, were first and foremost represented by Ruf’s bungalow in Bonn.

The second Chancellor of Germany, Ludwig Erhard.

The third Chancellor, Kurt Georg Kiesinger, took over from Ludwig Erhard in 1966. He was a former member of the NSDAP and disliked the Chancellor’s bungalow for its functional, ‘cold’ design. He had many things altered before he moved in and brought with him antique furniture pieces in stark contrast with Ruf’s modern architecture. Most of the other Chancellor’s after him agreed with Kiesinger’s view on their official residence. They were looking for something more comfortable and cosy (gemütlich). Under Chancellor Helmut Kohl the interiors had changed so fundamentally that it was hard to still see Ruf’s designs behind thick layers of carpet and bulky sofas and chairs. Not to speak of the new 1980s glittery lighting. Although partly preserved in the original building in Bonn, these alterations, additions and layers were not present in Venice.

Prince Philip, Queen Elizabeth II and the ex-Chancellor of Germany Helmut Kohl front of the bungalow of the Chancellor in Bonn.

It was a clearer picture or juxtaposition that Lehnerer and Ciriacidis drew. Only the brief blaze of fire in the Chancellor’s fireplace could have been something of a reminiscence to the other, the not-so-modern, not-so-open, cosy Germany that gathered around home-and-hearth. The Germany I grew up in. Just like the Mercedes-Benz, a fireplace was something quite desirable for the generation of my parents. You had to have one. And now, decades later, my parents even installed a new one. As if you couldn’t or wouldn’t want to live without it. Herman Miller’s Eames Collection that Erhard chose for his initial version of the bungalow at the River Rhine might have always been too expensive for most Germans, but they also represented a certain idea of Germany, like the whole bungalow an internationally oriented, better Germany – and not necessarily the real one. I wonder, does the real, and not the ideal, ever get represented? It might be an interesting task for a future German pavilion at the VAB.

The bungalow of the Chancellor in Bonn.

West Germany claimed the Bauhaus as its heritage since the 1950s, through the founding of the Bauhaus-Archiv in Darmstadt in 1960, countless exhibitions and books and buildings seemingly in its tradition (there were similar efforts in the GDR a little later). 2019, the year of the centenary of its founding, saw the Bauhaus at the height of its representational instrumentalization, it had become a major part of German cultural diplomacy. Yet, the Bauhaus has oscillated between national claims and International Style even before it was closed by the Nazis. This oscillating reception of the Bauhaus was crucial in making sure that the Bauhaus would continue to be productive until today. Looking back in 2020, the German Pavilion at the 14th VAB is also a vivid illustration of the complicated history of the Bauhaus and Germany.

***

VAB 06: Florian Strob

Florian Strob is an author and curator in the fields of architecture, literature and contemporary art. He holds a B.Sc. in Architecture from the Technical University in Berlin and a PhD in Medieval and Modern Languages from the University of Oxford. His main research interests are modern architecture, modern poetry and experimental prose, and the connections between built spaces and text. Florian currently works at the Bauhaus Dessau Foundation, where he curated the exhibit “Bauhaus Buildings Dessau: Originals retold”. For this, Dessau’s Bauhaus buildings, facades and interiors are on exhibit. They have been given a new and coherent narrative through an exclusive series of video clips which set historical images in motion using 2.5D animation. He also organized the international conference “Collecting Bauhaus” in December 2019. He is the head and curator for the Bauhaus residency programme 2020-2022, which invites artists and writers to live, work and exhibit in the historic Masters’ Houses in Dessau. The most recent exhibition in this series, “Gropius House || Fictional. Inge Mahn and Sujata Bhatt”, is on show until 20 September 2020. Most recently, Florian published “Bauhaus Dessau Architecture” (Hirmer 2019), including new photographs by Ostkreuz photographer Thomas Meyer. He is author, editor and contributor of several other books, including “Hiatus. Architekturen für die gebrauchte Stadt” (Birkhäuser 2017) and “Schreiben und Lesen im Zeichen des Todes. Zur späten Prosa von Nelly Sachs” (Winter 2016).

#vab #venice architecture biennial #cold cases

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raimispiderman · 3 years

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From the booklet which comes with the Spider-Man Trilogy Limited Edition Collection blu-ray!

This talks about the making of Spider-Man 3, here’s the bit about the first Spider-Man movie and here’s the bit about Spider-Man 2.

Click for a transcript:

OLD FRIENDS… AND NEW FACES

“The heart of the Spider-Man films has always been the depth of the characters and their interconnected lives. Peter’s love of Mary Jane Watson and his friendship with Harry Osborn have always been the richest parts of our stories,” said director Sam Raimi.

In Spider-Man 3, Peter Parker faces his biggest challenge to date – and the greatest battle of all is the battle within himself.

“We wanted to explore the darker side of Peter’s character,” said producer Laura Ziskin. “When his suit turns black, it enhances and emphasizes characteristics that are already in the host. In this case, it makes him stronger and quicker, but also more prideful and aggressive.”

“When I read the script I was really excited about the different direction we were going with Peter Parker and the other characters and storylines,” said Tobey Maguire, who returned to the role of Peter Parker. “We are covering a lot of new ground here, with a fresh take on the story while maintaining the continuity of the characters from the previous two films.”

In Spider-Man 3, Spider-Man takes on two classic villains: Sandman, who first made his appearance in the fourth issue of “The Amazing Spider-Man” and Venom, one of the comic book’s most memorable villains.

“Marvel comic books – and especially the Spider-Man books – have always had a great bunch of villains to choose from,” noted Raimi. “So many great Marvel artists and writers developed these characters. It was a very easy task to pick up these wonderful tales and images and develop our story from them.”

Thomas Haden Church played Flint Marko, a man haunted by the mistakes of his past, who is caught in a physics experiment gone wrong. “I consider it an honor, really,” said Church, an Academy Award nominee for his role in Sideway, on joining the franchise. “The Spider-Man films stand tall in the pantheon of superhero movies. Many are called, few are chosen, and I’m proud to be one of the few.”

“Flint Marko becomes Sandman when he stumbles into a radioactive test site where they’re performing a molecular fusion experiment and he accidentally becomes fused with sand,” Church added. “As a result, he can change his shape and adapt to his environment. He can be 10, 30, 80 feet tall. He can form giant sand fists, hammers, a mace. He can shift into a sand tornado, or sift into sand. He is as malevolent and menacing as any villain can be.”

Church spent over a year preparing for the role, with a physical training and diet regimen which led to his gaining about 20 pounds of muscle before shooting began. “In the comic book, Sandman was a bulky-muscled guy – he looked like a guy out of the WWF,” said the actor, “For the movie, we decided on a leaner look – street hardened, like Terry Malloy in On the Waterfront.”

Topher Grace joined the cast as Eddie Brock, a character in some ways similar to Peter Parker, who transforms into Venom – Spider-Man’s arch-nemesis. “When I was first talking about the movie, Sam asked me if I knew what ‘arch-nemesis’ meant. I thought it meant a huge villain, but Sam pointed out that it really means a villain who has the same powers and abilities as the hero, but uses them for evil,” said Grace. “Sam has gone to great lengths to make this character Spider-Man’s equal and opposite. You might say that Eddie is the guy that Peter would have been if he didn’t have the good fortune of having Aunt May and Uncle Ben to bring him up.”

Grace, a self-described “skinny guy,” put on about 15 to 20 pounds for the role, working out during the several months before shooting began. During pre-production, Grace was subjected to body scans and motion capture data analysis for use by the costume and visual effects departments.

“They were doing a scan of my body, and someone mentioned that the scan would be really helpful for making my action figure. My action figure!” recalled Grace. “It hadn’t even occurred to me that I would become an action figure! It was very exciting.”

“The Spider-Man books have probably the greatest rogues’ gallery of any superhero comic – there are so many memorable villains throughout the books,” said executive producer and Marvel’s president of production Kevin Feige. “With the villains in Spider-Man 3, we wanted to continue the tradition – following the Green Goblin and Doc Ock – of presenting villains that not only provide spectacle and a physical challenge to Spider-Man’s abilities, but characters that are multi-layered and conflicted.”

“At the beginning of Spider-Man 3, we find Peter Parker pretty much where we left him at the end of the second Spider-Man story,” said director Sam Raimi. “He is coming to terms with what it means to be a hero and the sacrifices he has to make to do the right thing. Peter has never had anyone look up to him as someone they admire. Certainly, he’s never had anyone cheer for him before. This has an unexpected effect on Peter: it stirs up his prideful self. This is the beginning of a movement toward his dark side in this film.”

That dark side is brought to the forefront when he comes into contact with a black substance that attaches itself to Peter’s Spider-Man suit. When the substance turns his suit black, he finds he has greater strength and agility than ever before… but also the substance brings out his pride and his vengefulness. “In the climax, Peter has to put aside his prideful self. He must put aside his desire for vengeance,” Raimi continues. “He has to learn that we are all sinners and that none of us can hold ourselves above another. In this story, he has to learn forgiveness.”

Another fan favorite, Gwen Stacy, made her film debut in Spider-Man 3. Well known to fans of the comic books, Gwen made her first appearance in December 1965 “The Amazing Spider-Man #31” and quickly became Peter Parker’s first love. Bryce Dallas Howard took on the role. Despite the differences between the comic book and screen versions of her character, Howard was able to use the comic book as inspiration in bringing Gwen Stacy to life. “There was a very deep relationship built into the comic books – that became my foundation,” said the actress. “This a person who, had things been different, could have been a good mate for him. Because her father is a police captain, she’s accustomed to someone leaving and putting his life in jeopardy every day and loving him unconditionally. I was able to build on that, to play the character that was written in the comic book.”

“It’s wonderful to bring new actors into the series because, although you have an existing set of rules and storylines you want to adhere to, at the same time you need to shake it up, bringing new voices and energies to the film that we haven’t experiences before, “noted Raimi. “It gives the audience a new experience, with the characters they love, but with a new energy dynamic, with those new faces on screen with them.”

“In terms of logistics and scope, Spider-Man 3 is by far the largest of the three films,” said Ziskin. “Sam has really upped the ante for this film, in terms of action sequences and visual effects involving Sandman and Venom, so it is a gigantic endeavor, with over 1,000 people working towards that goal.”

During production, Raimi relied on key members of his filmmaking team to bring to life before the cameras as much of Peter Parker’s story as possible. “Whenever it’s safe and practical, I like to capture the action in camera,” said Raimi. “Visual effects are an amazing tool for action that human beings can’t do – but if a human being can do it, let’s do it.”

The talented team of stuntmen was ready, but so was the cast. Bryce Dallas Howard, especially, surprised the filmmakers by being game for anything they could throw at her. At one point, the actress found herself hanging from a harness.

After performing several portions of the sequence on soundstages in Los Angeles, Howard was eager to get in the harness again to fly with Spider-Man over Sixth Avenue. “What’s so great about movies is you get to really experience these crazy, crazy stunts, things that you would never emerge from alive in real life,” says Howard. “I knew I would be 100% safe because Sam and the stunt team really protect the actors. So I tried to do as many things as possible, because it’s really fun and a great adrenaline rush!”

Thomas Haden Church was also up to the challenge – in fact, even more so. Whether it was being yanked five feet in the air so he could do a face-plant in the mud, or being chased (and caught) by dogs, or dangling off the side of a set, or falling onto train tracks, or having his face smashed into a pane of Plexiglas, the actor found himself bruised and battered repeatedly, but was ready for anything. According to producer Grant Curtis, “It wasn’t intentional, but it seemed sometimes like if any actor was required to get beat up in any way, Thomas was always drawing that short straw.”

Two members of the production team that played key roles in ensuring that these action sequences were both as safe and as spectacular as possible were special effects supervisor John R. Frazier (who previously served in the same capacity on the first two Spider-Man films) and second unit director Dan Bradley (a veteran of Spider-Man 2). “Working with Sam is like going back to school,” said Frazier. “You have that moment where you say, ‘Oh, this is going to be really, really hard, but a lot of fun.’ It’s not unusual for me to be on a movie like Spider-Man 3 for nine months, from the beginning planning stages through production.”

One scene that highlights their work is the Subway Drain portion of an elaborate fight sequence between Spider-Man and Sandman. Raimi worked closely with Frazier, Bradley and visual effects supervisor Scott Stokdyk on the sequence, in which Sandman is blasted by the force of a burst water pipe and, quite literally, goes down the drain. Sam wanted Sandman to melt away, in essence, during this sequence.

“This is the largest water gag for one shot I’ve ever done for a film,” recalled Frazier, who had previously supervised the special effects for Poseidon. “We used 50,000 gallons of water, shooting out of a pipe which blasted the rear of the set fifty feet away. When you see this sequence, the water appears to be a six-foot-thick column of water; however, we made the center of the pipe hollow, and used a restrictor plate to control the size of the column of water. The water is recirculated using pumps, which are able to pump 3,000 gallons a minute. We can fill both tanks in about five minutes, so that we are ready for another take.”

The sequence was covered using eight cameras, according to Stokdyk. “This sequence is where Spider-Man discovers Sandman’s weakness – water. We had to put a CG Sandman in here because the velocity of the water is too great to have Thomas Haden Church or a stuntman perform portions of the sequence. Water is a huge challenge for visual effects, especially on a large scale, so our goal here was to seamlessly integrate the elements for the sequence between practical and CG.”

Bradley and Frazier’s work is also on display in an action sequence during a bank heist, in which a security guard (played by none other than producer Grant Curtis) falls victim to Sandman’s wreath. “As a producer, Grant is uniquely qualified for guarding money,” laughed Bradley, “so Sam typecast him and invited him to spend a lot of time on set being buried underneath tons of sand as one of the armored car guards.”

Apprehensive as he might have been about performing the stunt, Curtis says that it would have been pointless to argue. “I’ve worked with Sam for ten years, so I know that once a decision’s been made, he’s going to get his way,” he said.

The sequence begins spectacularly, when Sandman smashes into the top of the armored call with his fist – which, in reality, Frazier’s team made of polyurethane foam. It was eight feet tall, six feet wide, and weighed over 500 pounds. Then, debris – sand – came flying at Curtis. “On the first take, I anticipated the crash and reacted too early,” he remembered. After an adjustment, he nailed the second take.

At the end of the sequence, the guard is buried in sand. To film the scene, the armored car was lifted and tilted at a 50-degree angle so that the sand could be dumped in and fill the car but with a fraction of the pressure on Curtis. The producer soon found himself beneath 4,000 pounds of ground corncob – the filmmakers’ ingenious substitute for sand.

The idea of using ground corncob as a double for sand did not come immediately to the filmmakers. The first man charged with investigating what kind of sand would make Sandman or solving any number of other costuming challenges, Acheson’s motto was: when in doubt, go back to the original text. “We derive our inspiration, as always, from the comic,” he said. “Sandman is one of those remarkable characters who can change shape, dissolve, disappear, grow, or become mud or concrete. We designed various stages and different scales of Sandman’s evolution, working with wonderful sculptors to create maquettes, small statues of Sandman in his various appearances.”

As much as Sandman required each of the departments to step up their game, so, too, did Venom – Spider-Man’s equal and opposite. Acheson and his team created various stages of Venom’s look, working with Raimi to create a tension in the sculpting of the suit. “It was important to Sam and to James that we keep the suit really sharp and aggressive, as with the tendrils that crawl across Venom’s face at points,” said head specialty costumer Shownee Smith, whose company Frontline Design worked under Acheson’s direction to manufacture the specialty costumes for the film.

For scenes where Brock transitions into Venom, Grace spent an hour being placed into the suit, which added between 120 and 140 pounds to his weight. The actor then spent an additional four and a half hours in makeup for the addition of appliances, including special sets of teeth worn by Grace to give the character the illusion of a larger, more menacing mouth. The filmmakers also attached monofilament to the skin on Grace’s face so that they could pull and distort the character as he makes his transformation.

“At one point while shooting the transition scenes, I thought, ‘What have I signed up for?!’” Grace laughed. “I had black goo poured all over me, wires attached to my face that people with fishing poles were pulling up, and other people below me were pulling down… When you see my character in pain, well, there wasn’t a whole lot of acting required.”

Also interacting with each of the departments was production designer J. Michael Riva, the member of the team responsible for bringing Raimi’s stylish vision to life. Riva was especially proud of his work in cresting the construction site that serves as the arena for the film’s final battle. “Making a construction site doesn’t sound very difficult, but if you have only eight weeks to design and build, it’s practically impossible,” he said. “We used over 20 tons of steel, 100 welders, and 200 carpenters working around the clock, seven days a week to get it done! But we all did it.”

The set took six weeks to complete, using tons of steel from a cancelled building project. A construction elevator, complete with operator, transported cast and crew to the various levels of the elaborate set. For the extensive lighting and electrical needs required for the sequence, a labyrinth of connections was designed and installed 80 feet above the stage floor, using over four miles of electrical cable. By the time the set was ready for shooting, Stage 27 was outfitted with approximately 21,000 amps, enough power to service over 200 homes.

“The great thing about a construction site is that it’s a very dangerous place. First, besides the implied height of the set, you have a lot of steel and rebar lying around at such a site. You can always rely on Sam to see opportunities and come up with an effective way to use these set elements to enhance the danger in a scene,” said Riva. “Second, it was an open structure, pretending to be 50 stories high, open on all sides. It offered Sam a jungle gym of possibilities to web up and down, to do a chase all over the face of the steel structure. The higher they go fighting their way up the building, the more the danger and tensions increase. It’s a long way to fall if you’re not Spider-Man!”

For visual effects supervisor Scott Stokdyk – the man charged with bringing the visual effects to the screen – those words were the beginning of a two-year process to develop the technology that would make Spider-Man 3 the most visually stunning film in the series so far. “When we began the pre-production process, the computer programs had not yet been developed which could achieve the look of Sandman and his capabilities that Sam wanted to see,” recalled producer Grant Curtis. “However, Scott Stokdyk and his team created new technology to manipulate every piece of sand on our character. The existing technology allowed management of thousands of particles at once – but to animate Sandman the way Sam wanted to, we would have to be able to render billions of particles. In the end, the new software they wrote required ten man-years to code.”

Stokdyk says that he and his team prepared for the challenge by first observing how sand moves in the real world. “One of the first things we did was to organize a sand shoot with Sam and Bill Pope, the difrector ofg photographer,” Stokdyk continued. “We shot footage of sand every way we would need it – thrown up, thrown against blue screen, over black screen. John Frazier, the special effects supervisor, shot it out of an aero can at a stuntman. Anything we could imagine sand doing in the film, we shot.”

“There’s a character the, emoting, but it’s just a pile of sand,” said Stotdyk. “If we’ve pulled together enough grains of sand to make feel something, then we’ve pulled it off.”

In the end, the artists were all extremely proud of their creation. “Sony Pictures Imageworks delivered on Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2, but for Spider-Man 3 it changed the industry standard,” said Curtis.

Sandman, of course, was not the only character that posed a considerable challenge for Spencer Cook; animating the black-suited Spider-Man required subtle changed to reflect the character’s more aggressive personality, “He’ll move a little quicker here and there, hunch his shoulders a little more, put his elbows up a little higher when he’s stuck to a wall. We tried to find poses that the classic Spider-Man would not do – where the red-suited Spider-Man was graceful and elegant in his motions, black-suited Spider-Man is more blunt, rough, and reckless.”

In creating Venom, Stokdyk notes that the character has at least three different stages. First, of course, is the initial transformation, in which Topher Grace’s skin is pulled away from his body and tendrils of goo cross his face until they completely envelop him. “As he gets angrier, he turns into more of a monster, more of a beast,” Stokdyk noted. First, he becomes a kind of double for Spider-Man, played by Grace. By the very end of the film, he becomes an entirely CG character – the classic Venom from the comic books, with a menacing, unhinged jaw and a full mouth of very sharp teeth. “Everything is alive on ‘comic-book Venom,’” Stokdyk continued. “The challenge was to make a character that was monsterous, very detailed, very kinetic – but not delicate. Despite all the detail, he’s still menacing.

Stokdyk was also determined to break new ground in terms of live-action integration with the visual effects. The supervisor was on hand during production so that he could be ready to take the ball as soon as the scenes were filmed. “It was important to Sam and me to incorporate as much live-action into the CG as possible,” he said. “The typical reason a shot is animated is because a person can’t do all of it. We wanted to find a way to have an actor or stunt person do part of the action, and synthesize the rest. The goal was to find a balance between keeping the shot real and making it exciting and cinematic.”

One dramatic example of this idea comes early in the film, as Peter Parker finds himself ambushed by the New Goblin – his friend, Harry Osborn. “It was Sam’s idea to show Peter fighting as Peter not as Spider-Man,” said producer Avi Arad. “It’s a terrific amount, because it brings home what a personal battle this is for Peter when you can see his face.”

Tobey Maguire and James Franco completed much of the aerial stunt sequence themselves, doing wire work suspended high above the stage floor. “Tobey is really handy with stunt situations, and he picks it up really quickly,” said stunt coordinator Scott Rogers. “James is also terrific – he’s got a great attitude. Both actors are used to the type of physicality required for their roles, and they excelled.”

For Stokdyk, achieving such great heights would not have been possible without the contribution from his team at Sony Pictures Imageworks, assembling, in the end, between 200 and 250 people to complete more than 900 effects shots. “You live and die by your team,” said Stokdyk. “They were always ready to respond, always on their toes. That’s bit of the process of working with Sam, you have to be flexible and ready to deliver.”

“When developing this third installment, we asked ourselves, ‘What does this young man still have to learn?’” said director Sam Raimi. “We placed him in situations where he’d be forced to confront his absences of character – obstacles that, in previous stories, he might not have been able to surmount. In this way, he would either be defeated or grow into the heroic person who might be capable of overcoming these obstacles. As the depth of our characters grow, they become richer human beings and can achieve more than in the previous films.”

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 3 years

Text

Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe

Part of the 12 Days of OL Ficmas. Read on ao3.

Set in the TBBFIY ‘verse, between chapters 4 and 5. Can function as a standalone if you’ve never read TBBFIY! Taking a break from the current plot and looking back, this is pure unadulterated holiday fluff. Please enjoy!

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Holly, ivy, mistletoe,

and the gently falling snow

Truth and love and hope abide

This Christmastide

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December 1744

“I want Christmas,” she told him one day.

“What?”

“Christmas.” Her eyes were alight with a sudden urgency and hope, and he couldn’t for the life of him conjure up any sort of response.

“I know it’s not a big holiday here ‒ I know we’ll have Hogmanay in a few weeks, but… it’s Faith’s first Christmas and Fergus’s first one with our family and I didn’t realize… I haven’t‒” She shook her head suddenly and those bright eyes turned wistful. “I didn’t think it mattered, but I haven’t had a family Christmas since I was very small and now that we have the children with us,” she shrugged one shoulder and gave him a wobbly little smile that had his heart tumbling in his chest.

“Now that we’re a family of our own… I want Christmas,” she leaned up on her toes to kiss him, soft and quick, like the brush of a wing. “With you. With our family.”

“Christmas,” he echoed the word gently against her lips before sealing it with a kiss. “Aye, Sassenach,” he sighed with mock graveness, struggling to hide his smile. “I suppose we can have yer pagan holiday if it’ll make ye happy. That is, if Jenny doesna run us out of here for suggesting it.”

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“Celebrate Christmas?” Jenny pulled a face, which drew a sigh from Jamie. Ian didn’t outright object but even he looked uneasy at the suggestion. Though it hadn’t been outlawed since well before any of them were born, most in the Highlands still frowned upon celebrating Yuletide. “Whatever for?”

“They dinna celebrate Hogmanay where Claire grew up. Instead, she had Christmas.” Jamie straightened up a little. “And ye ken how it is once there’s little ones, Janet‒”

“Oh don’t ‘Janet’ me‒”

“Claire wants us to start our own traditions here.”

“I dinna think the tenants would think well about it,” Ian said cautiously.

“The tenants dinna need to ken how we spend our day. Claire wants it just to be our family here.”

Ian absorbed this while Jenny’s brows furrowed together. “Ye ken that doesna give us much time between then and Hogmanay, and I’m already preparing for that.”

“I will help Claire with any preparation for Christmas. I’m no’ asking ye to give time where ye dinna have any to give. I’m only telling ye both so ye ken ye’re expected to participate, and give ye well enough time to come around to the idea.”

Jenny cocked her head at him. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she teased. “What’s next? Converting to the Church of England?”

Jamie let out a bark of laugh at that. He hadn’t missed the brief twitch of Jenny’s mouth, wanting to smile but stubbornly refusing. “My wife is Catholic. And I’ll remind ye that you said yerself ye didna mind Claire’s Englishness so much.”

“Och aye, when we were being invaded by the Watch and them about to blow a hole through yer head, aye, I said that.”

Jamie chuckled, clocking the faint smile from Jenny before she sighed. “It’s one day,” he said softly, his gaze shifting between Jenny and Ian. “And it would mean the world to yer sister-in-law if ye embraced it. And it willna take away from Hogmanay. Claire only wants Christmas as a family.”

Jenny and Ian shared a look, having long since developed a way of having an entire conversation conveyed in just one glance. “If it makes ye happy, mo bhràthair…” Jenny shook her head at him, but a soft smile played at her lips. “I suppose my niece is half-English, and it’s only fair.”

Jamie grinned broadly. “Claire will be verra happy to hear that.”

“But for heaven’s sake,” Jenny hollered after him as he turned to leave. “Not a word of this to anyone else!”

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“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked.

Fergus’s head poked out from the other side of Jamie where they all sat on the sofa. “Did you mess up your stitches, Milady?”

She frowned at the boy, which only drew an impish smile out of him. When Fergus had noticed Jamie giving Claire her first lesson in knitting, he had decided that if Jamie could do it, so could he. Claire was admittedly getting the hang of it but Fergus had outpaced her as he took to it immediately.

“It’s just this one part…” She grumbled. She had also, admittedly, taken on perhaps more than she should have with her newly-learned skill. But with Christmas only a few weeks away, she wanted to make something for a gift. The product of her own two hands, born out of love. So she had started working on a simple frock for Faith, throwing herself headlong into a project beyond her level of skill.

Jamie’s hands came over hers, helping her hold the needles. “Ye almost have it, Sassenach…” He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to her temple when he released her. She felt a warm, fluttery feeling in her stomach.

“I have faith in you, Milady,” Fergus offered up, his head now bent over his own work. She glanced over at his progress ‒ the first in a pair of wrist warmers. He’d already finished a set previously.

“That looks wonderful! How are you so quick?”

He looked positively proud, especially when Jamie ruffled his hair. “Aye, well done, laddie.”

“Who is that for, Fergus?” Claire teased. They had told him he didn’t need to give gifts on Christmas unless he wanted to, that they would have gifts for him either way, but Fergus had taken to the idea quite quickly.

He turned away from them slightly, trying to hide his work. “Never you mind, Milady,” he said in a sing-song voice that drew chuckles from both of them.

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A heavy snow came one day, forcing them all inside except when tending to the animals. Claire stood by the window in their bedroom with Faith, looking out at the snow covered hills and trees, before she turned and settled in a chair by the fire to feed Faith. Jamie came and found them a short time later.

“We should get a tree,” she said softly by way of greeting. “Something to put up in the parlor. And the boys can help us decorate it.” She paused long enough to kiss Jamie when he bent down to silently ask for one. His hand gently cupped the back of Faith’s head where she was situated at her mother’s breast to feed before he sat down in the chair opposite Claire.

“A tree, hmm?” He leaned back in his seat, feet stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

“Yes,” she exhaled a smile, her gaze dropping to the baby in her arms. “I was just thinking it would be lovely to have one when we’re cooped up inside on a day like today. Something festive to brighten up the place.”

“We can get ye a tree,” he agreed easily.

“Thank you.”

“What’s it like in yer time?” he asked after a moment of quiet. “Christmas, that is. How did ye celebrate?”

“Well,” Claire took a deep breath, not sure where to begin. “It’s not unlike Hogmanay in that there’s usually a Christmas feast, lots of holiday cheer and the sort. But we hang stockings by the fire on Christmas Eve, telling children that Father Christmas will fill their stockings with presents for them while they sleep.”

“Father Christmas?”

“A legendary bringer of gifts.” She smiled broadly at his confusion. “It was just a tale, Jamie. It was the parents who placed the gifts under the tree and filled their stockings. Which means you’ll be helping me on Christmas Eve after the children go to bed.”

“Oh, so I’m Father Christmas, aye?”

She laughed so hard at this, she startled poor Faith. “Something like that.”

“And what else, Sassenach?”

“Hmm, well… I went to Mass on Christmas Eve, except for some of the years I was with Uncle Lamb. I do miss the Christmas carols sometimes, actually…”

“Sing one for me.’

“No.” Claire shook her head adamantly, but a smile played at her lips. “Oh! And we would read A Christmas Carol every year, Uncle Lamb and I. It’s a story about a wealthy old man who… well he’s downright cantankerous and mean in the beginning. His heart is closed off to people, even his family. And so he’s visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve ‒ the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future ‒ to show him what truly mattered in this life. How people were worth living for and wealth didn’t truly enrich us. How there was always a chance to change, to be kinder and generous… I always liked that story. Uncle Lamb wasn’t one for making a fuss at Christmas, but that was our one tradition, wherever we were in the world.”

“Sounds lovely that ye had that with him.”

Claire made a soft sound of agreement. “I miss that. I miss him, especially at Christmas.”

Jamie sighed and if she weren’t feeding Faith at that moment, she was sure he would’ve tried to comfort her in some way.

“It’s alright. I’ll always miss my uncle, but I’m grateful for the years I had with him.”

“I feel similarly when it’s Hogmanay,” Jamie admitted. “I canna help but remember what it was like with my mam, my brother Willie… or even after we lost them but we still had our da…” His gaze settled on Faith and he smiled sadly. “There’s so many folks I wish she could’ve met. But we have our memories of them that we can share with her as she grows. And our traditions that we can give to her as well.”

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It was a cold and clear day when Jamie and Claire wrangled a few of the children for the tree hunt. The snow had lingered on the ground, about ankle-deep, and they trudged through it as they headed for the woods.

Fergus, Rabbie, and wee Jamie took the task of selecting their tree with grave responsibility. Murtagh joined them, an axe slung over one shoulder while he pondered how they had ended up in this mess, preparing for Yuletide.

Jamie led them to a patch of evergreen trees and then it was up to Claire and the boys to find the right one.

And that was how a seven foot Scots pine came to be Lallybroch’s first Christmas tree. It was a marvelous tree, Jamie thought. Once set up in a corner of the parlor, Claire and the boys decorated it with ribbons, berries, and candles.

Other bits of greenery made their way into the house after that ‒ evergreen trappings along the mantels and around windows, holly wreaths on doors, sprigs of ivy twined together with holly berries and pine cones to adorn their tables.

“And you can keep them up through Hogmanay, if you’d like,” Claire added helpfully to Jenny.

It hadn’t taken much time at all for Claire to bring a little Christmas cheer, as she’d say, into the Lallybroch farmhouse. And she had been right ‒ the Christmas tree was a thing of pride for the children, who marveled at it daily whenever they entered the parlor. On dreary December days, it made the house feel warmer somehow.

But when Jamie caught Claire standing precariously on a chair trying to hang a bit of greenery from the entryway to the dining room, he thought perhaps the decorating could be reigned in a little ‒ it wasn’t anything worth risking injury over.

“What are ye doing, Sassenach?” He held her firmly by the waist to keep her anchored.

“Perfect. Thank you, love. Almost finished.”

He huffed loudly, but she seemed to miss it.

“There!” She declared triumphantly before stepping down from the chair and pushing it out of the way.

“Is it really necessary‒” he was in the process of speaking when suddenly it was she who held him by the hips and was busy arranging him in some particular spot. “What are ye doing?” He asked again with a little more exasperation than before.

Claire only grinned and looked up at the sprig above their heads. “Making sure we’re both standing perfectly under the mistletoe.”

She had him around his waist now, their bodies flush together, and she swayed with him slightly.

“Why do we need tae stand perfectly under the mistletoe?” He had his own responding smile now, too enamored with the feel of her in his arms to care about why they had arrived here.

“Because…” her hands came around his shoulders and settled at the back of his neck, tugging him down to her. “Now we can do this.”

She smiled into their kiss, slow and lingering as they swayed again in the entryway.

“I see,” Jamie said brightly once they’d parted. “Ye didna tell me about this Christmas tradition, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss her once more, a little less chaste than before. “Ye ken, I think I like this one best.”

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On the day of Christmas Eve, Claire instructed each of the children to fetch one of their stockings to hang by the fire. They tore through the house together like a pack of wild dogs with Maggie on Claire’s hip and the boys excitedly at her side.

Jamie watched them up in the hallway from his seat in the parlor as Faith curled up on his chest. He heard the moment the last stocking had been fetched for they all poured back into the hallway with a shout and Fergus raced ahead in his excitement. Wee Jamie tried to catch up with his much shorter legs but had to slow down on the stairs, holding tight to the banister. Claire followed patiently behind with Maggie and soon their raucous tribe was standing in front of the fireplace, stockings in hand.

Faith lifted her head and watched them curiously.

Claire began to explain why they hung their stockings by the fire on Christmas Eve as Fergus put his up, and she helped Maggie with hers. Jamie watched as Fergus then lifted Wee Jamie to hang up his, while Claire pulled Faith’s stocking from her pocket and let Maggie help with that one as well.

They stood back and admired their work ‒ four wee stockings all in a row. Jamie felt his heart swell with gratitude and great joy that this family had Claire and she had them. Oblivious to the way he watched her, Claire shifted Maggie higher in her arms and pressed a kiss to the girl’s round cheek. Christ, he loved them, his wife and the niece that she brought into the world.

Fergus leaned over then and murmured to Claire that he knew that Père Noël wasn’t real but he wouldn’t tell the little ones. Jamie caught Claire’s sad sigh as she put her arm around Fergus’s shoulders and bent her head closer to his, but whatever she whispered to him was kept between Fergus and Claire.

Wee Jamie leaned suddenly against his uncle’s knee, pulling Jamie’s focus from his wife. “Gonna have presents in our stockings tomorrow, Unca Jamie!”

“Aye, I heard. Isna it wonderful ye have yer Auntie Claire here? Otherwise we wouldna ken to hang up our stockings.”

“Aye.” Wee Jamie nodded, glancing over along with his uncle to the woman in mention.

“What?” Claire’s gaze shifted between both Jamies. “Why are you both staring at me?”

“Because ye’re wonderful, Auntie Claire!” Wee Jamie grinned, earnest in his words and also in his excitement to use such a long word.

Her face flushed a faint pink at the boy’s words, visibly pleased to have his approval.

Later that night, after the children had been put to bed, Jamie helped Claire fill the children’s stockings with fruit and treats and small gifts.

“Faith’s is so small,” Claire giggled as she tucked a wooden rattle in there that took up most of the space. Jamie grinned, too.

“Aye and Fergus’s looks as though it belongs to a giant next to these wee ones.”

“Try and stuff a few more of those smaller candies into Jamie’s, I’m worried he’ll be jealous of Fergus getting more simply because his stocking can hold more.”

Jamie chuckled and did as Claire suggested. “Do ye remember hanging yer stocking by fire when ye were a lass, mo chridhe?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She smiled faintly, her gaze turning soft as she filled Maggie’s stocking. “I do. I remember coming down the stairs in the morning and seeing my stocking filled to the brim when it had been empty the night before and...” she shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a silly thing. I know now it was my parents. But it felt… it felt like magic.” Her gaze flicked over to his and she smiled softly. “Of course I’ve had Christmases since then and good ones at that, but this year with the children… I want them to have those memories. And I feel like I’ve been chasing that feeling of the last Christmas I had with my parents.”

“And have ye found it?”

“Well,” she stepped into the circle of his arms and her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He was all too happy to hold her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “It’s not Christmas just yet. I guess we’ll have to see what tomorrow brings,” she said coyly. Her expression turned tender just before she kissed him. “But I think there’s a good chance that I have found it, Jamie,” she whispered against his lips.

“Good,” he murmured when she pulled back before chasing her lips again. “Ye ken ye make those bairns so happy, aye? They all look at ye like ye hung the stars in the sky.” She seemed to melt under his gaze and ducked her head to rest on his shoulder, but the sigh that escaped her was happily reassuring that she did, indeed, know. “The babes may no’ remember this year’s Christmas, but Fergus will and mebbe wee Jamie, too. Ye’re giving them their own memories and starting traditions that they’ll have for years to come, Sassenach.”

She kissed him softly then, her hands framing his face, and murmured a quiet “thank you” against his lips.

“For what?”

“Oh, for letting me throw the whole house into a tizzy preparing for a holiday your family would rather not celebrate,” she laughed. Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw and he waited, sensing there was more. “For giving me your family wholeheartedly from the time we wed and for…” she shrugged her shoulders. “For everything, Jamie. I’ve loved these last few weeks. More than I can say.”

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“Sassenach.”

Claire grunted at the heavy rumble of Jamie’s voice in her ear, pulling her from sleep. “Not yet.”

“Claire.” There was laughter in his voice that she didn’t care for. She refused to open her eyes, though she could feel the likelihood of falling back to sleep slipping away from her.

“What?” She could hear how thoroughly British that one syllable sounded once it escaped her.

Jamie’s lips tickled her skin just below her ear at the same time that she registered the feel of Faith’s little hands grasping fistfuls of her nightgown right by her hip. “Ye have to wake up. It’s Christmas.”

She rolled over at that, finding Jamie’s beaming face and Faith in his arms, her little hands waving wildly.

“Thought we should get up soon if we want tae see the weans with their stockings.”

“Of course,” she agreed, shaking her head to try and clear the fog of sleep. “Here, I’ll take Faith. She’s probably hungry.”

He passed her over as Claire pushed herself up against the headboard. “And I’ll go down and make sure Fergus doesna tear into his stocking before we’re ready.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled.

With Jamie slipping out of the room, it was only Claire and Faith and a few moments of stillness. “Merry Christmas, lovey,” she murmured to a bright-eyed Faith, bringing the baby up to her face for a loud, smacking kiss to the girl’s cheek and then pretending to nibble on her ear. Faith burst into a fit of giggles, and the sound made Claire positively melt.

“Oh my darling girl.” She cupped Faith’s head in her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Then with practiced ease, she shoved her nightgown down from her shoulder and out of the way, and settled Faith in her lap to feed her.

Claire’s fingers smoothed over the short, silky hairs on Faith’s head and then gently traced the shell of her ear. She hummed softly as she did, catching Faith’s eye eventually as the baby followed the sound. “That is from a song called Angels We Have Heard on High. I’ll teach it to you someday.” She tickled Faith’s cheek lightly. “I’ll teach you all the Christmas songs, my girl.”

Claire and Faith joined Jamie downstairs in the parlor where he stood by the fireplace, and the sight was completely warm and inviting. The work of Claire and Jamie last night was now on proud display in the light of morning ‒ four small stockings filled with treats and small gifts, and presents from them to the family tucked under the tree.

“No Fergus yet?”

“Nae. Heard him stirring about in his room afore I came down, though.”

“I guess it’s early still.”

Jamie tugged her forward into his arms and she went without resistance, the baby bracketed between them. Claire hummed a contented sound and kissed the top of Faith’s head.

“Merry Christmas, Auntie Claire an’ Unca Jamie!” Wee Jamie’s voice bellowed from the top of the stairs. Claire and Jamie looked up to see the boy beaming as he came down the stairs. Jenny was with him and had Maggie in one arm, practically perched on top of her mother’s rounded belly.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Claire warmly returned his greeting ‒ the one she’d taught him last week in preparation for this day. She and Jamie were situated perfectly by the hearth in order to see wee Jamie’s face when he rounded the corner of the stairs and noticed the stockings.

His mouth dropped open in surprised delight, but no sound came out. The boy practically danced on hurried steps to his aunt and threw his small arms around her knees through her layers of skirts. “He did come here, Auntie!”

Wee Jamie’s excitement was infectious, bringing smiles to everyone’s faces.

Jamie plucked Maggie from her mother, giving Jenny a kiss on the cheek as he did. “Merry Christmas, Jenny.”

She patted his arm as she moved past him to Claire. “Merry Christmas, sister.”

Claire squeezed her sister-in-law back and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. The warm embrace they shared was so much more than just that; Claire was keenly aware of and understood why they wouldn’t celebrate the holiday here, but it touched her to see Jenny embracing it and encouraging her children to embrace it as well.

“Can I look in my stocking?” Wee Jamie strained up on his tippy toes to try and reach his stocking, but his fingertips swiped at only air.

“Where’s Ian?” Jamie asked, bouncing Maggie in his arms.

“He’ll be down in a moment. The bairns couldna wait.” As if to prove her point, Jenny gestured to her son still trying desperately to reach his stocking.

“Jamie, love, not yet. Wait for Fergus,” Claire said gently.

“Where is the lad?”

“Still up in his room. Perhaps I should‒”

Fergus appeared then at the top of the stairs, his arms filled with bundles that he looked to have a precarious hold on. His head leaned around them to watch his steps as he went.

“What’ve ye got there?” Jenny asked him.

“My gifts for everyone!” He beamed at them as he rounded the stairs and made a beeline for the tree, though Claire caught the way his gaze sought out his stocking first. He dropped them carefully onto the floor and then stood. Claire was already reaching for him, settling an arm around his slim shoulders to draw him to her side.

“Merry Christmas, Fergus.” She kissed the top of his head.

“Joyeux Noël,” he answered softly. “When will we open presents?”

“I thought we could do that later in the day, but since all the children are here now, why don’t you all look in your stockings and see what Father Christmas brought you?”

There was a flurry of movement as stockings were passed to the children. Wee Jamie sat down promptly on the floor and upended his stocking so that the contents spilled out into his lap. The babies were far less riotous in their joy and took their first Christmas morning in stride. Claire watched all of them, heart simply brimming with happiness.

Fergus appeared at her side, his stocking in hand after having been carefully refilled once he’d sorted through the fruit, treats, and small gifts. The tender look on his face had her drawing him back in under her arm.

“Thank you, Milady,” he whispered, mindful of not wanting wee Jamie to overhear.

She smiled through the inexplicable urge to cry and kissed his hair. “Of course, love. Merry Christmas.”

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Murtagh joined them, then Ian, and they made their way into the dining room for their breakfast. A few winter chores were unavoidable even on Christmas so the rest of the day passed as it normally would at Lallybroch, with the exception that there was something special to look forward to when the work was done.

When it was time for gifts, their family reconvened in the parlor and Claire took the lead on distributing the gifts she and Jamie had for everyone. She knew Fergus had made his gifts for everyone as well, and he excitedly joined her by the tree to start handing out presents. But throughout the day, without Claire’s notice, more gifts had found their way under the tree, and she suddenly realized that Jenny, Ian, and Murtagh hadn’t only showed up today, but came with presents of their own to give out.

Not for the first time that day, she felt swarmed by gratitude for these wonderful souls. There was thought and care put into each gift, from Fergus’s handknit hats and wrist warmers to the matching dolls Jenny gave to Maggie and Faith.

“Here ye go, lad.” Jamie placed a long, narrow bundle in Fergus’s lap, grinning broadly at the boy’s curious stare. “Go on, open it.”

Fergus unfolded the cloth wrappings to reveal the hilt of a wooden sword, hand-carved and sturdy. He pulled it free and held it up in one hand. Wee Jamie’s jaw dropped when he noticed. “Is this for…”

“So ye can practice yer swordfighting, aye.”

Fergus looked down at the bundle still in his lap. “There’s two of them, Milord.”

“Weel, when ye’re learning, ye need someone to practice with.”

Fergus launched himself out of his seat, wooden swords clattering to the floor, and threw his arms around Jamie’s neck. “Thank you, Milord! I love it.”

“I’m glad tae hear it, lad.”

“You’ll teach me? We can practice together?”

“Aye, I will. Figured ye could practice with Rabbie as weel, so long as you two dinna cause a stramash at the same time. And never in the house, mind.”

“Oui, I understand.”

From her spot next to Jamie, Claire reached over and caressed the boy’s curly mop of hair. He was so dear to them and seeing his happiness and gratitude, his love for everyone here through the gifts he’d made… Claire could hardly reconcile the fact that they hadn’t even known him a year ago. He seemed so permanently rooted in their lives already and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

The Christmas feast followed presents. With the help of Jenny and Mrs. Crook, they’d decided on a menu of wild game that had been recently caught and potatoes from their first harvest. A few other dishes had been prepared as well as desserts ‒ and it wouldn’t detract from the plans Jenny had for Hogmanay next week.

Supper was a lively time. Stories spilled out around the table and the laughter flowed easily. They basked in the comfort of each other’s company, the joy of being all together.

And with full bellies, their small clan retired to the parlor afterwards, soaking in the warmth of the fire as most of them reclined in chairs and on sofas. The candles along the wall had been lit as well, and from the glow of the fire, the room was cast in a warm light.

The wonder and the joy of the holiday… the togetherness… Claire had wanted this more than she could say, having felt for many years a tender ache for family at this time of year. First it had been a yearning for her parents, but then as she grew into an adult, it had shifted into a different kind of ache… a sharper pain for something that felt out of reach for her.

Of course she’d had her Uncle Lamb growing up. And she’d never truly been alone on Christmas ‒ even during the years stationed throughout war-torn Europe, she’d had the hope of reuniting with Frank when the war was over.

But she had still always felt the keen sense of loss this time of year.

Her gaze dropped to the baby and she brought one dimpled fist up to her mouth for a kiss. Her miracle girl. And it wasn’t just this year made special by Faith’s arrival in their lives. Claire was acutely aware that she held in her arms a lifetime of hope and promise. For this year and every year to follow, for as long as Claire lived, she’d never spend another Christmas with that feeling. That yearning which had become a yearly dark companion ‒ first to have her parents back and then to be a parent ‒ would no longer haunt her.

Her eyes sought out Jamie and found him stretched out on his back on the rug. Fergus was there, sitting up beside him, and wee Jamie reclined with his head on his uncle’s chest. Their voices were hushed but the easy smiles between the three of them shone brightly for all to see. Maggie was shuffling around them on her slightly unsteady legs and Jamie’s hand hovered at her back, already bracing for a tumble. The children always gravitated to him wherever he was, but it was also common on quiet winter evenings like this to find him at their level, engaged in some sort of play or discussion.

In all her wildest imaginings, she never saw this. She never saw him coming, but oh, was she ever grateful that he was hers. He’d given her not just Faith, but a home with him and a loud, wonderful family. She’d never been alone on Christmas all those years before, but she’d never in her life had something quite like this before.

Faith began to squirm in her arms, no longer content to simply be held. She shifted the baby to face her and set Faith’s feet on top of her thighs, letting her bounce her legs and flail her arms to her heart’s content.

“We are lucky, aren’t we?” She bounced Faith up and then brought her close to kiss her cheek. “You have the best Da in the whole world.”

At some point in the evening, he made his way back to her side on the sofa. Murtagh had stolen Faith and sat across from them, bouncing her on his knee and having Faith’s dolly pretend to kiss her cheek.

Claire wound her arm through Jamie’s, their hands linking together, and rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s so funny with her now. When she was born, I would’ve sworn he hated babies. Recently, he steals her every chance he gets.”

“Nae,” Jamie chuckled quietly. “He doesna hate them. He’s only afraid they’ll break when they’re sae small. Especially Faith.”

Claire hummed softly, caught up in the notion of rough-around-the-edges Murtagh being scared to hold newborn babies for how fragile they looked. “Well, I’m glad he came around.” She exhaled a smile, watching Jamie’s godfather as he pretended to scold Faith for trying to chew on her dolly’s face.

She felt more than heard Jamie’s quick exhale of a laugh, no doubt equally amused and endeared by those two as she was. Her hand squeezed his in a sudden swell of affection for him, and he raised their clasped hands to kiss the back of hers in response. She looked up at him then, catching the slopes and strong lines of his profile before he turned to her, drawn by the feeling of her gaze.

God, he was so beautiful, and when he looked at her like that, all soft and content and in love, it felt as though her bones were turned to putty. But in the moment, what sprang to mind was something more astounding to her; she had forever with him.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. She had a lifetime yet with him of Christmases and birthdays, Hogmanays and quarter days, and every mundane or monumental day in between. And it thrilled her to the very marrow of her bones that they would do that together, building traditions as a family, just as they’d done with Christmas.

“What’s on yer mind, Sassenach?”

She shook her head, throat swelling with emotion at just the thought of trying to get those words out. She’d be blubbering in front of their whole family. “Later,” she promised and leaned up to kiss him instead.

-------------------------------

When they retired to their room for the night, Faith had already lost her battle to sleep and was carried up to her crib in her father’s arms. Claire began readying for bed, shedding layers of clothing and letting out her curls from their tight confines.

She hadn’t been watching Jamie so she was surprised when he appeared suddenly by her side.

“Here, I didna want to give this to ye in front of the family.” He held out a small rock to her. “It’s amber, ye see. Like Munro gave ye as a wedding present. I thought ye could fashion a bit of jewelry out of it perhaps. Merry Christmas, Sassenach.”

She accepted the bit of amber, touched by the thought behind it. The dragonfly in amber that Hugh had given her was a treasured gift. “It’s perfect, I‒” Claire’s eyes went wide with a sudden realization. “Jamie, I didn’t get you anything!” Her hand flew to her mouth as the shock of it set it. “You did all this work to make Christmas happen and I‒ Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Tis alright, mo ghraidh.” He kissed her forehead.

“No, it’s not. I can’t believe I didn’t even realize.” She blinked back the sting of tears.

“Tis alright,” Jamie repeated, giving her a half-smile. “Ye did this all for the bairns, aye? And they had a wonderful time.”

“But you were right there with me. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you. I feel so foolish.”

“Don’t. Claire…” The way he said her name had her heart tumbling in her chest. He so rarely called her by her name and when he did, his voice was usually laced with emotion. He captured her chin in his hand and looked at her with so much love, she felt like clay in his hands, completely soft and pliable. “I dinna need anything, truly. Today was a gift of its own and I’ll never forget it.”

“I’m glad,” she murmured. “You still deserved something. I’ll‒ I’ll make you‒”

“Christ, I dinna need anything else, Sassenach.”

He kissed her then, though whether in reassurance or to change the subject, Claire wasn’t sure ‒ he kissed her hungrily and she found she didn’t care what the reason was.

He hoisted her up and her legs anchored her around his hips. Her fingers were tangled in his curls and she kissed him back fervently, pouring every ounce of affection she felt for him into that act.

Though as he began to walk them toward their bed, she pulled back abruptly and he froze in his trek. “What is it?”

Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw, biding time as the feeling slowly framed into words in her head.

“I’m no’ upset, mo ghraidh.”

“I know, but…” Her vision clouded with tears, thinking of how she had sat in the parlor tonight feeling so infinitely grateful for and desperately in love with him, and the entire time, it hadn’t occurred to her that she had no gift to give him. “I love you,” she rasped. “And I’m worried I don’t tell you enough or show you enough. For Christ’s sake, I forgot your Christmas gift and… what does that say to you?”

“Dinna need a trinket or token to ken ye love me. I know it in my bones, Claire. And as for telling me… weel,” he kissed the tip of her nose, a soft act of reassurance that melted away some of her fears. “Ye stayed with me when I gave ye the chance to go home. Ye gave me a bairn and took in another one wi’out question. Ye’re here wi’ me now, loving my family as your own. Ye didna‒ ye didna give up on me after all that happened since last year. A Dhia... ye tell me a thousand ways wi’out ever saying the words, mo nighean donn. I dinna have any doubts.”

Her fingers carded through his curls and a heavy sigh escaped her.

“And I meant it,” he continued. “Today was a gift. Ye were so radiant wi’ joy, Claire. I wish ye could have seen you as I did.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat and breathed in sharply. “You make me happy, Jamie,” she murmured. “So happy, I could burst.” She captured his lips then, too overcome for any more words and needing desperately for the feelings to be expressed some other way ‒ a way that felt more natural to her than speaking.

She squealed in surprise when he flung her backwards onto the bed. “Jamie!”

“Shhhh!” He crawled over her in an instant, covering her body with his own. Both were still clad in a layer of clothing each, but that problem could be easily resolved. “Ye’ll wake the bairn, Sassenach. And that would ruin how I plan to spend the rest o’ this night with ye.”

“Hmm,” her hands smoothed over the broad expanse of his back, pressing him down on her. “And what exactly would those plans include, I wonder?”

He rolled his hips then, drawing a gasp out of her at the sudden contact with the evidence of his arousal through the fabric of her shift. He grinned at her. “Weel, it was yer idea, ye see. Just a little bit o’ togetherness.”

#outlander #jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander fic #OL fic #12 days OL ficmas #my fic #tbbfiy #holly ivy mistletoe

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wherevermyway · 3 years

Text

be your confessional (1/?) // minbin // 18+

chapter one: cherry-flavoured nicotine series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: obsessive compulsive disorder, cults, religious guilt, internalized homophobia, past sexual assault, cheating, smoking, tattoos. word count: 4,032 also on AO3

originally posted: 27 december 2020

It's been ten years since Changbin left the cult he was born into. He's been desperately trying to become a normal member of society, but sometimes it proves to be difficult. He has a normal office job, a normal roommate, and a normal life. At least he was trying.

this fic sounds a lot darker than it is. most of the dark things happened in the past and is briefly discussed/observed.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

“Would you stay still? The Mark is going to come out imperfect if you keep moving.”

The voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, making Changbin nauseated just hearing it. He couldn’t help but twitch as the tattoo machine etched black lines into his skin, black ink and blood blending as the tattooist wiped at his chest.

To most sixteen-year-olds, getting a tattoo so early was a sign of rebelliousness, something to be envied by others. To Changbin, however, this was not a tattoo he would wear with pride. The X, surrounded by four triangles and enclosed in a circle, was something he felt shameful over.

“The X means you are nothing. You must follow the four principles: morality, service, responsibility, and submission to be whole, much like the circle. That is The Mark.”

The words hurt more than the tattoo being carved into his sternum. Everyone in their fellowship was forced to get The Mark at sixteen, if born into it, or when they were deemed worthy after joining.

Changbin didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be marked with a brand that rendered him unworthy, as nothing more than a pawn to some bullshit deity that some power-hungry man came up with fifty years ago. He loved his parents, he truly did, but he never understood why they fell for the words that The Leader spat out every week. The Leader wasn’t even charismatic; perhaps his parents were just vulnerable and stupid.

It didn’t matter.

“Wear your Mark with pride, Son,” The Leader whispered in his ear, continuing to dig his nails into Changbin’s wrists. “You are one with The Universe, one with Us, one with Me. Together, we are one in responsibility.”

“One in morality,” the tattooist nodded.

“One in service,” his father continued.

There was a pause as Changbin tried to choke back tears. He knew he had to complete the oath, but the lump in his throat and the burning of the skin on his chest made it difficult. The Leader cleared his throat, digging his nails into Changbin’s skin further, until he cried out and shook his head. “One in submission!”

One in submission.

Fuck submission.

Changbin nearly fell off of his bed as he thrashed awake. He was unable to make sense of his surroundings, trying to calm his rapid breathing and focus his eyes on something, on anything. He hated this nightmare; it haunted him for years, and they were increasing in frequency again.

It was irrational, but he needed to make sure. Changbin kicked his sheets off of him, untangling his legs from the prison his sheets tried to trap him in. As he made his way to his feet, he tore off his shirt, haphazardly throwing it somewhere across his room.

He needed to make sure.

Moving towards the washroom was mechanical, automatic. He did this so many times, waking up in the middle of the night to run off and check his skin. It was 37 steps from his bed to the sink. 37 steps to security.

Step 35: collide with the door.

Step 36: turn the light on.

Step 37: stare at the tired reflection in the mirror.

A wave of relief washed over Changbin as he stared at the dark raven that sprawled across his chest, wings touching the tips of his shoulders and the open beak pointed up towards his left shoulder. It held a deep meaning to him, but it was more important that it completely covered up that stupid fucking mark.

It hid away the years of guilt and shame, the obsession and compulsion that came along with conforming to each intricate, demanding rule that the cult ordered. The years of pain would never be totally washed away, but it was getting easier with each passing day.

“Hey,” a tired voice from the doorway startled Changbin, causing an electric jolt to course through his body. He turned his head over his shoulder and stared, blinking a few times to make sure it was really his roommate, Jisung, standing there.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sleepily mumbled, nervously rubbing the tip of his shoulder with his thumb as he nibbled on his lip ring.

Jisung leaned up against the door, running his fingers through his vivid red hair. “You didn’t. I was already awake. Besides, it’s almost 5:30, so I figured I’d just get up and deal with the day.” They stared at each other for a moment, before Changbin turned back to look at his reflection in the mirror.

“You ever think it’s gonna stop, the nightmares?”

“Dunno,” the redhead shrugged as he met Changbin’s eyes in the mirror. “It’s been awhile since you woke up like this, though. You gonna be okay when it comes up?”

It hadn’t been long since he woke up like this, it had just been a while since Jisung woke up to Changbin acting on his compulsion. The black-haired man sighed, biting at his lip as he ran his eyes over his skin. “I’ll get over it. Hopefully he gets what he deserves.”

Jisung took a step forward, softly gripping Changbin’s shoulder and smiling at him in the mirror. “I know you will, but don’t be afraid to lean on me, dude. I’ll be here to help you through it, I promise.”

“Thanks, man,” Changbin smiled back, then looked down to his hands, staring at the hangnails and scabs that had littered his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to tear into his skin and tear away the imperfections that he had created during one of his episodes. The momentary lapses in rationality, where he would ferociously tear his nails apart, rip off hangnails, the lapses were the only thing that made the intrusive thoughts stop.

“You wanna hit the gym early? I know you’re not gonna go back to sleep any time soon, so might as well be productive with our time.”

“Yeah,” Changbin sighed, looking at himself in the mirror one more time before he turned the light off. “Might as well.”

Ten days until the hearing.

“Good morning!”

Fuck. Changbin tried to stealthily roll his eyes as he walked into the office. He hated the paralegal, Lee Minho. Minho was everything Changbin was not: nice, loveable, innocent, and a good church boy who was pure. Everyone loved Minho, because he was safe, an easy pill to swallow. Changbin was not an easy pill to swallow; he was covered in tattoos, ears decorated with jewellery, hard around the edges, and abrasive to most people.

“Yeah,” Changbin grunted, trying to avoid saying much else as he made his way to his office. It was too early to deal with someone so chipper, not without copious amounts of caffeine.

“Wait!” Minho called after him, and Changbin didn’t bother to hide his disgust as he stopped. He heard the shuffling of papers, and then Minho was suddenly by his side. “Mr. Bang is away from the office today, and he told me to pass off some of the Dawson v. Doebring case off to you.”

“Walk and talk, then,” Changbin didn’t bother waiting for Minho to follow him. “If Chan’s out, that means we’re busy today.” There was an itch under his skin as he lost count of the steps from the front door to his office, and it made him tense.

There was a bit of a squeak that came from Minho as he followed Changbin to his office. “I’ve got your back, Mr. Seo.”

Changbin couldn’t hold back a groan as he stopped dead in his tracks. He hated when people addressed him by his last name. “Stop calling me that,” he took a step closer, getting into Minho’s face. “I keep telling you, only address me as Changbin.”

“But,” Minho started, nervously backtracking his words incoherently.

He looked at Minho with a pleading gaze, trying to not seem vulnerable. Part of him wanted to tear into Minho because they did this every week, but the pitiful look that Minho had painted on his face made Changbin feel like a horrible person. It felt like he was yelling at a child for something stupid and only out of frustration. “Please, just… don’t call me by my last name.”

Minho nodded his head and bit his lip.

“Thank you,” Changbin sighed, turning on his heel and beelining towards his office.

“Sorry, Changbin,” Minho said, curling into himself a bit as he trailed Changbin.

The younger man shrugged as he sat down at his desk. “Don’t worry about it, Minho. Just…” he let his voice trail off as he looked down at his stacks of paperwork. There was a lot to do before he was going to be absent for several days due to the hearing.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me. The leader deserves to die a slow, and painful death. Fuck this goddamned cult!”

That had earned Changbin a slap across the face from his father.

“Blasphemy is a sin, Changbin.” Despite being furious, his father’s voice was exhausted. He tiredly grabbed a black book off of the table and passed it to the young man. “You should be grateful that The Leader accepted you back into his embrace after the stunt you pulled.”

Changbin shook his head, grabbing the book his father offered and tossed it across the room, colliding against the vase on the dining table. “He should be fucking grateful I didn’t take this to the cops.”

Another slap to the face.

The younger man licked his teeth and shot an icy glare towards his father. “You know this isn’t right. You’re really going to side with that fucking monster over your own son?”

There was a painful silence that lingered in the air as they stared down one another, until his father broke the tension. He didn’t look like he wanted to say the words he had been thinking, but he repeated them anyways, his voice empty and distant.

“One in responsibility, one in morality, one in service, one in submission.”

Changbin didn’t bother. He scoffed as he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re as much of a monster as him, you know?” His mother sat on the couch, curled up into herself as she stared off in a dissociative trance, trying to remove herself from the situation. “You’re going to actively defend and dismiss the things your beloved leader has done to me? Did you forget that I’m your fucking son?”

There should have been a slap, but Changbin’s father just looked down. His expression was hard to read. There was a look of shame and a look of remorse, but his eyes were dead.

“Get out of my house.”

Changbin’s mother lifted her head, opening her mouth to say something, but nothing came to fruition.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Changbin shook his head. “I’m not living with someone that doesn’t stand up against their son being abused and assaulted for years by some fucking psychopath that thinks he’s a god.”

“Come back here!” His father demanded, but Changbin was having none of it.

He turned on his heel and tried to remain composed as tears rolled down his face. “You’re both dead to me. I hope that, when this whole fucking cult gets torn apart, you both come down with it all.”

It had been ten years since he had seen his parents last, and he would be seeing them again in ten days.

“You’re making your fingers bleed,” Minho’s voice pulled Changbin back from the depths of his memories. “Are you okay, Changbin?”

No, I’m not okay. Never have been.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk. “Sometimes happens when I think too hard.” Ten days. He was still partially lost in the abyss of the past, and he was afraid he’d never fully shake the vise grip that the cult had around him.

Minho frowned, setting his notepad and pen down on the desk in front of him. “Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

No. I don’t want you to know anything about me.

“What is it?” He blotted the tissue around his fingernails until the blood was mostly gone, then dropped the tissue in the bin.

The older man brushed his brown hair away from his eyes, and sat forward. “Is law school really worth it? How did you know it was right for you? Like, I see you and Mr. Bang spend months over these cases and part of me is interested in applying, but...”

Fix the imperfections.

Changbin stood up, trying to fight the urge to pick at his fingers. “Can this wait a minute? I need to go wash my hands off.”

Minho nodded his head once. “Sure, sure. I’ll finish making notes on this file.”

127 steps from his desk to the washroom. He counted every step mentally as he walked. Anything to keep his thoughts away from tearing the flesh next to his fingernails off in nervousness, not until he was alone.

Step 126: open the door.

Step 127: scan the room.

It was an additional three steps to the third sink. Three was a good number.

Changbin ran the water a bit too cold for comfort as he stuck his hands under the faucet, ravenously tearing at his hangnails, pulling them off and turning the porcelain of the sink a shade of pink for a split second. The blood would drip down, then rapidly desaturate and dissolve into the water.

Fix the imperfections.

He hated these thoughts. Sure, the medications he had been on helped, and the therapy appointments he sometimes went to had helped him with better coping mechanisms, but this was the only thing that made sense to him, that actually felt like there was a payoff of serotonin. Changbin didn’t tear into his skin because he liked it — it hurt, actually, and it was incredibly uncomfortable — but because his brain told him he had no other choice.

“Obsessive-compulsive disorder isn’t uncommon in cases like yours,” his therapist told him. “Children develop coping mechanisms like skin picking or excessive handwashing amongst other things to gain control in their lives when things don’t make sense and they don’t have a way to express that in a healthy manner. Anxiety disorders are common: obsessive-compulsive disorder, alcohol and/or drug use and abuse, eating disorders…”

“Fuck that goddamned cult,” Changbin whispered under his breath, his voice laden with venom. “Fuck that man, fuck my parents. Fuck all of them.”

He let the water wash over his hands until his hands started to shake from the cold. Anything to numb the pain.

“You look pale,” Minho had, again, given Changbin an unwanted statement, and the younger man gritted his teeth as he bit his tongue.

Fuck you, too, you prudish brat.

“How’s the case review?” He deliberately ignored the concern Minho had as he sat at his desk, clasping his hands together and resting his chin against his fingers.

Minho batted his eyelashes a few times, giving Changbin a look of worry. “The case review is fine, but I don’t know if we’re going to have this ready by the end of the week.”

“Guess we’ll have to work harder.”

The men sat in silence for hours, poring over their evidence for the case. When Changbin could fully immerse himself in a case like this, it dampened the intrusive thoughts in his head. He felt somewhat normal for a little while, and it was a welcomed change.

“It’s half past two, Changbin,” Minho whined, looking up from his paperwork. “Can we take a break for now?”

It took a moment for Changbin to pull himself away from the paragraph he was on, taking a highlighter to some of the words. “I assume you want to get something for lunch, right?” He didn’t bother looking away from the document, because he didn’t want to look at Minho’s sad eyes.

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

“Then go,” Changbin shrugged.

“You should eat something, too.” Minho leaned in on the desk, trying to get into Changbin’s line of sight. “Maybe take a break from all of this.”

“Fine,” Changbin sighed, grabbing his glasses off of his desk and adjusting them on his face. “Chan said I should be nicer to you, anyways. How about that French place down the street?”

Minho’s smile was soft, genuine. “That sounds perfect.”

Changbin hated the fact that Minho was so nice. It felt fake and unwarranted. He saw a lot of his younger self in the way that Minho acted: fake kindness, putting others before himself, a general sense of being lost. He knew that the other man was deeply wrapped up in some sort of religion that took up all of his time outside of work.

It wasn’t obvious until Changbin watched the way he talked about his fiancée. It felt like she was a prop or a chore: just another thing for Minho to deal with.

“Hey, congrats, man!” Seungmin, the other new paralegal, had excitedly shouted one day a few weeks prior. “Finally settling down like a real adult, huh?”

Changbin poked his head out of his office door, ready to scold the paralegals for being so loud, but the look on Minho’s face distracted him. For someone being congratulated, he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he had meekly said, sinking into his shoulders a bit as he darted his eyes around. “She’s great. My parents have been pushing me to bite the bullet for months now, and this weekend seemed like it felt right.”

Doesn’t look like it feels right.

Changbin stood in his doorway, observing the two of them chatter back and forth, watching the discomfort on Minho’s face every time Seungmin asked him questions about his fiancée. It was like he was trying to talk with a wedge of lemon in his mouth: constantly scowling and wincing.

“We’re gonna get married in a few months,” Minho said with a sigh. “Her parents want a winter wedding, and my parents just want me to get married.”

Seungmin shifted his weight to the other foot. “Dude,” he folded his arms, his tone turning more serious. “You sure about this?”

Minho shrugged. “Yeah. It’s what I’ve gotta do. Nobody else in my community waits this long to get married and start a family.”

Community.

Changbin tried to stifle a scoff with a fake cough when the two men noticed him standing there. “Sorry, I wanted to offer congratulations. I was also looking for the corporate notes for the Smith v. ParaCorp case, Minho.”

“Oh,” Minho nodded, his face flushing as he scrambled around his desk. “Yeah, I’ve got them somewhere, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Changbin shook his head and turned to walk back to his office. “Just have them on my desk in a couple of hours.”

As much as Minho annoyed him, Changbin felt somewhat bad for him. He didn’t know the specifics of what all Minho was involved in, but it sounded deep-rooted and like he was stuck. Chan told him to try and be nicer to his paralegal, but sometimes annoyance won out over niceness, but he was at least trying.

Somewhat.

“So,” Changbin dug into his jacket and pulled out his vape cartridge as soon as he and Minho were outside, “how’s the wedding prep going?” He eyed Minho out of the corner of his eye as he inhaled, the cherry-flavoured nicotine cloud leaving his lips a moment later.

It was a rude question to ask, given the circumstances, but he wanted to try and confirm a theory that was burning in the back of his head, under the guise of caring about Minho’s personal life.

A theory that was slowly unravelling to be truth. Minho shrunk a bit, kicking a stray rock down the sidewalk as they walked. “It’s,” he paused, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I guess it’s going? Maria and her family are working on most of it.”

Go figure.

“You don’t seem very excited for a man that’s about to get married.”

They walked in silence for a bit. 40 steps from the entrance to the curb. The stoplight ahead of them was red, and cars rushed past them as the air lingering between them went stagnant.

“I’m not excited about it.” Minho’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet for Changbin to pick up on. “Not at all, actually.”

The younger man took another pull from his vape, then rolled his tongue over the stud in his lip. He should have pretended like he didn’t hear Minho, but curiosity always got the better of him. “Wanna talk about it? Sworn to client confidentiality.”

Minho scoffed, anxiously tapping the toe of his shoe against the ground. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t love her, do you?” The light turned green, the orange hand turning into a white stick figure, but neither of them moved.

The older man looked up, his eyes glistening a bit as they stared forward. Some stranger walked past them and flipped them off, but neither of them paid the stranger any mind. “Are you actually supposed to love someone you marry, or is that some sort of fairytale? All of my friends are married and secretly miserable.”

“Dunno,” Changbin sighed, sticking his hands into his pocket as he stared at the light turn into a flashing hand. “Never been married. Never planned on it.”

“Why are you asking me this, anyways?” Minho turned to look at Changbin, a disgruntled look on his face.

“Why did you answer me?” Changbin tilted his head a bit to the side, looking at Minho with indifference. “I figured you wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t really want to talk about it. To answer your question, though, it’s been bothering me since you announced your engagement. You looked uncomfortable when Seungmin brought it up.”

Minho didn’t answer Changbin, instead taking a hasty step forward as soon as the light flashed back to a white stick figure.

“Wait, Minho!” Changbin reached out, practically ripping Minho’s sleeve off of him as he pulled him back from the road right as a car ran a red light, nearly running into Minho. The force of the pull knocked them onto the sidewalk, causing Changbin to land hard against the ground, barely missing his head colliding into the concrete.

Minho awkwardly laid on top of Changbin, staring down at him with terrified eyes. He grabbed the sides of Changbin’s neck and panicked. “Oh my goodness,” he whined, “Changbin, are you okay?”

He’s cute from this angle. Fear looks good on him.

“I’ll be fine,” Changbin says, unsure of where to place his hands. He’d never been this close to another man his age. It never hit him before, but Minho was good looking. Had he not been the pure, innocent church boy type, he would have been Changbin’s type. Minho, however, was innocent and literally planning a wedding that was coming up in a few months.

“Changbin,” Minho whispered, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. There was a strange tension between them, like the air around them was full of electricity and they were being pulled together. Minho dug his fingernails into Changbin’s neck, slowly bringing his head in closer.

Don’t kiss the church boy.

He knew where his hands needed to be. Changbin brought his hands up to Minho’s head without even thinking twice, pushing aside the intrusive thoughts running through his head. The warmth of the older man was intoxicating as he brought their lips together.

Minho responded in kind, pushing a bit further into the kiss. They were getting strange stares, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the euphoric energy that danced around them as they kissed. He pulled away, then pressed his lips to the older man’s three times in total.

Stop kissing the engaged church boy.

Maybe he would make it six times.

Don’t kiss the engaged church boy who is probably heavily traumatized.

Nine times. Three times three for good measure.

Changbin had just literally fallen for the church boy, but he felt like he was potentially metaphorically falling for him now. Fuck the intrusive thoughts.

#be your confessional #skz fics #minbin #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 3 years

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Sun Myung Moon’s fish business had plans to corner the shark fin trade

▲ Sharks that died after their fins were cut off.

Moonies Fishing Shows Little or No Profit—So Where Do They Get Their Money?

by Tim Sullivan (National Fisherman, September 1981 or a few years later)

Are the “Moonies” trying to take over the United States fishing industry, and are they succeeding? After following the activities of Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church and related businesses for the past five years, these are two of the questions I am most frequently asked. My answers, most simply, are yes and no.

The Plans Going back to the beginning of Moon’s involvement with the industry in 1976, the record is quite clear: the Korean industrialist/evangelist would like very much to exploit the profit potentials of the fisheries. Outwardly, this intent came in an announcement from Stephen Baker, an advertising agent who had just completed a job of promoting Moon’s God Bless America Festival in Washington, D.C. In September 1976, Baker told The New York Times that Moon had purchased a fleet of seven trawlers and a fleet of trucks and “is going to make fish a staple” in the country. Baker said that with his advertising help, “We’ll make fish another Perdue chicken.” Later, he described this announcement as “premature,” which was partially accurate. There were, in fact, no trawlers and no fleet of trucks. Moon’s yacht New Hope and speedboat Flying Phoenix were making some waves in the New England rod-and-reel tuna fishery, and there was one truck to carry the fish around, but the major efforts were only in the planning stage.

Robert Brandyberry, a former Unification Church member, testified at a recent trial that he had attended a high-level church meeting in September 1976 at which Moon made fishing a major topic of discussion. Notes taken during the session indicated plans for marine enterprises centered in key areas of the country: Boston, New York, New Orleans and Florida, Los Angeles and Seattle. “We need to have all connected businesses within our organization,” Brandyberry wrote. “No competition because we use our own members.With worldwide network we can control business. All young men must go all over the world fishing.”

An internal church document, written on October 30, 1976, and obtained soon after, cited projected sales of $600,000 for the following year and profits of $86,000 but warned of problems involving the use of aliens and the poor corporate image of Tong II, the original Moon-related fish business. The document, signed by A. Richard Arnold, “director of marketing services,” stated: “We are building no foundation for the huge harvest of fish that Father (Moon) is planning to help restore the world.” “We must ‘crack’ the wholesale markets or fail in our mission. Every day we waste with no results is failing our fundraisers in the streets. Tong II’s business reputation is very bad. A new corporation can start a clean operation and quickly achieve bank credits that would be impossible as a division of Tong II.”

The Threat Reports of these pronouncements and plans were widely circulated in the industry and prompted a fear among many that the church, using the free labor of its members, its tax-exempt status, etc., could indeed “crack” the markets as Arnold had suggested and “control business” as Moon demanded. And Moon and his affiliates certainly had the resources with which to try. Only three days after the Arnold report was drafted, a new corporation—International Oceanic Enterprise, Inc.—was formed in Virginia. The company, doing business as International Seafood, began operating out of a plant on the Norfolk waterfront, and the church money began to flow.

Records of the Unification Church International show disbursements of $250,000 to International Seafood on November 7, 1976; $250,000 to International Oceanic on November 13; $150,000 on April 12, 1977; and $250,003 on July 5—a total of $2,400,003 during a 15-month period ending in February 1978. The latter-day expenditures during that time undoubtedly helped to fund both a new venture in boatbuilding and the acquisition of more than 700 acres of waterfront property in Bayou La Batre, Alabama, in early 1978. This purchase by International Oceanic also signaled the formation of a few more corporations: U.S. Marine to handle shipbuilding; Master Marine, also involved in boatbuilding; and One-Up, a hold company. Total expenditures: approximately $5 million. Other acquisitions related to fishing included a small lobster company in Gloucester, Massachusetts, purchased for $300,000, which was $100,000 over its market value.

The church also purchased an old milk factory in San Leandro, California, for an unknown quantity of money, named it Golden Gate Seafoods and began describing it as the secondary processing arm of a budding operation in Alaska. The Alaska operation, a small yet highly efficient processing facility, cost more than $7 million, according to former International Seafood employees who have since disassociated themselves from the operation. The church has dabbled in other fisheries, too, working the waters off Florida with a small fleet of boats pursuing kingfish for sale in a small store in Miami. They’ve acquired another shipyard in Mississippi. Most recently, they descended on Gloucester, Massachusetts, with a fleet of thirty 25’ boats built by Master Marine for use in the bluefin tuna fishery. This brings to over 60 the number of vessels now licensed in this one fishery and more are on the way. Those seven trawlers that ad man Baker spoke about back in 1976 finally do exist, along with several other large vessels around the country.

There is another international trading company known as Uniworld, and a trading company in Japan— Shiawasa Shoji. UCI has done other business in fish under a variety of little-known names like Fast Brothers, Father’s Fish Co., Happiness Seafoods and the Ginseng Co. The total capital outlay just for the most visible holdings exceeds $15 million, making the affiliated companies one of the largest seafood catching, processing and marketing networks in the country.

Former church members have verified private businessmen’s fears that the workers in many of the operations, being church members, either go unpaid or return their money to the church as a donation after the formal exercise of paying the help is completed.

That many of the various companies received start-up and operating monies from the tax-free holdings of the Unification Church International is fact, well documented in church records.

With extensive holdings on every coast and involvement in many of the major fisheries—from shrimp, scallops and Atlantic bluefin to Alaska bottomfish—it seems obvious that the inroads and power Moon sought have been achieved. No other operation in the country has shown such phenomenal growth in such a short time. By all appearances it is successful, but the appearances belie the reality.

Losses The Norfolk operation was a dismal failure, a drain on the corporate coffers rather than a source of income. Its various leaders suffered from a lack of experience in the industry. Products were packed in an inappropriate manner, there were some troubles with short weights, and big plans fell through on a number of attempts to corner the market on a variety of exotic seafood ranging from shrimp and squid to sharkfins (see National Fisherman December 1980, page 34).

▲ Shark fins

▲ Commercial shark fin categories: primary and secondary sets

Numerous efforts were made to attract business by paying the boats more than the prevailing rates and selling to wholesalers at lower-than-competitive prices, but this tactic gained few inroads.

In 1978, company officials admitted candidly that International was losing money, probably at a rate in excess of $250,000 per year. In 1979, International’s competitors estimated even greater losses, and in May 1979, the operation ceased, to the surprise of few. What was surprising was that only six months after the closure, International returned to spend $1.6 million to purchase the plant and surrounding waterfront property it had previously rented.

Shipbuilding In Bayou La Batre, Alabama, and Moss Point, Mississippi, the shipbuilding operations continue at the same slow pace the rest of the shipbuilding industry has experienced for the past two years. Master Marine’s production in 1979 was around a dozen vessels, and a comparable production from the combined facilities in Alabama and Mississippi was reported last year. “They’re getting by,” says a rival builder in Bayou La Batre, “but they’re not making any killing; no one is right now.”

The scene is markedly different than it was in 1978, when International, Master Marine, et al swooped down on the town to buy up the shipbuilding facilities and the 700 acres of waterfront property while announcing plans for expanding the shipbuilding operations and establishing fish plants and a marine academy. The shipbuilding has stagnated, and the 700 acres lay idle. There are no plants, no academy, and Moon’s affiliates are known not for their fishing involvement but for a youth center they opened for the community’s teenagers.

Costly Delays The operation in Kodiak, Alaska, too, is less extensive than expected. The fish plant is now in operation and handling a variety of locally-caught seafood, but the fleet of company-owned, company-built boats to supply the plant hasn’t materialized. There are many vessels, sporting names like Sunrise and Green Hope, the products of labor at the Master Marine yards, but repeated advertisements throughout the industry have failed to attract enough experienced skippers to handle the vessels in the often-treacherous waters of the Gulf of Alaska and the Bering Sea.

The plant, which has been operated by many of the same people who operated the Norfolk operations, also took three years to complete—double the original predictions—and costs rose accordingly, from an original estimate of $3 million to now over $7 million. “Perhaps it will yield profits some day, but there are some great costs to overcome,” says Mulk Prudent, an old hand in fish dealing who was hired to salvage the Norfolk operation and then worked selling product from the Alaska plant out of his office in Seattle.

In San Leandro, Golden Gate Seafoods also appears to have suffered because of the construction delays in Alaska, designated, as it was, to be the final processing arm of the Kodiak plant. The operation appears to be making some money handling the catches from vessels in the Oakland area, and costs have certainly been cut since the days of the late 1970s when Golden Gate, with no plant of its own, bought fish from the local boats, trucked it whole across the country to Norfolk for processing and then trucked it back to the West Coast for shipment to Japan. Golden Gate is also involved in a lawsuit in which a Moon-affiliated operation in Gloucester, Massachusetts, charges it did not pay for a shipment of squid that was packed and shipped last summer. “From the investigation we’ve done, we’d have to say they are no big money-maker,” says Anthony Bertolino, Gloucester attorney. He is trying to recover money allegedly lost by Capt. Joe and Sons, the Gloucester fish processor that actually packed the squid that is the focus of Moon affiliate A’s lawsuit against Moon affiliate B.

And, certainly, if there are profits, they are so modest that they could hardly be a source of funds with which to prop up the other operations. The most publicized and apparently successful operation is in Gloucester. There, International Seafood has a lobster company, while Uniworld trades in tuna, and the church itself has a fleet of 50 tuna boats, with Master Marine holding another 10. Cries that the “Moonies” are taking over the industry can be heard everywhere.

But, again, the appearances overshadow the reality. The profits, if there are any, are certainly not great and, most assuredly, aren’t the source of money for propping up Norfolk, Kodiak or the lesser holdings elsewhere. And none of Moon’s non-fishing operations in the country are known to be large enough to support the fishing enterprises, either.

Who Has the Money? The church itself could be the source, according to many. But Mose Durst, the president of the church, maintains that the reverse is true. Since the “Moonies” have downplayed begging and their flower and candle sales as a source of income, the businesses support the church, he says.

This seems doubtful, but anything is possible in the financial maze of the Unification Church, Unification Church International, International Oceanic, International Seafoods, One-Up, U.S. Marine Corporation, Master Marine, Fathers Fish, Fast Bros., [Ocean Enterprises of Alaska, Inc., International Seafoods of Alaska, Inc., Ocean Peace, Inc., Top Ocean, Inc.] etc., etc.

Where the money comes from remains a mystery.

____________________________________

A huge Moon Church scam in Japan is revealed

Moon extracted $500 million from Japanese female members

Moon church of Japan used members for profit, not religious purposes

Shark finning: The cruelest cuts

Moon owned Sushi Company, True World Foods, Linked to Whaling

The Dark Side of True World Foods

Sushi and Rev. Moon – Chicago Tribune

FDA cites Elk Grove True World Foods seafood plant for unsanitary conditions

Jack White and his crew of five in the ‘Green Hope’ drowned off Alaska

John Williams died in a tragic Ocean Church accident in 2003

Japanese Unification Church member froze to death

SEASPIRACY website

SEASPIRACY trailer (Netscape) Seaspiracy examines the global fishing industry, challenging notions of sustainable fishing and showing how human actions cause widespread environmental destruction.

#sharkfin soup #Sun Myung Moon #Ocean Church

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swirlyrobe · 4 years

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Jul 28, 2015

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after that i ended up in a special ed school and thats when i started listening to rap with dipset and stealing yugioh cards for money and robitussin to get high. when i was 16 i only had a couple good friends and everybody else just avoided me caus they were scared i was going to fight them and one of them steve (who’s 3 years younger than me) had me meet his (at the time) ex gf one day and i ended up getting my thing sucked>.> yea for the first time and then we planned to lose our virginity the next week. she brought her friend and we had a threesome tho my drugs caught up with me because i was on probation for beating somebody up on the bus and i kept getting dirty urines for weed so i went to rehab a couple weeks after

i never really had gfs in highschool other than that, there was only 5 girls in my special ed school, i was friends with most of them but they used me for drugs. i went to community college right after highschool and made friends rapping tho immediately got involved in a small crime ring of stealing video games from stores, selling them to gamestop to make a couple hundred daily as well as smoking a lot more weed (while still on probation for another assault) that didnt catch up with me yet tho when i was 19 this girl sabrina added me on facebook and i really liked her, ended up meeting her at the mall it was a really sweet date(we had fun getting physical😄) she wasn’t like everybody else because she didnt try to be normal. i had court coming up though i ended up smoking pcp for the first time and had a psychotic break where i thought this girl was her (who wasnt) and got arrested for unlawful restraint (i thought she was bugging out and i didnt want to leave until i knew what was wrong). i went to jail and got released to rehab again.

when i got out of rehab i went to outpatient rehab (i was 20 now) and met a woman heather who was 33. we dated and she bought a ring for me 3 months after to propose which i accepted because i was desperate and i thought i loved her though she asked if i was attracted to her and i honestly said only her face and not her body so she broke up with me. after that i started smoking again until i started talking to this girl Haley who lived the city over from me, she said she wanted a brother yet i really started liking her when we talked. this is when i really started realizing i liked younger girls and she ended up admitting she had a bf months after and lied to both of us. (i made a lot of songs about her😔😪){&2020 update about haley: we moved on with our lives and had never met though I talked to her a little on Facebook this year and, thankfully I wasn't as enamored and clingy😪}

there's a couple dozen other girls i dated/talked to between that and then there was bella who heard my music on an old social site called PHEED and i thought she was beautiful so i told her that and we talked. she lived in texas but we had intense convos she was really smart, beautiful, funny and we swore we would be together though i had to go to rehab again(this time inpatient in New London where, I lived in a sober house & got a job after) because i violated probation yet i wanted to test if she’d stay with me so i didnt tell her i went. about 4 months later when i was getting out of rehab i talked to her again and she acted like everything was alright and she had moved to NY as well as gotten a license and really had her life together. she said she loved me and was gonna drive to see me in new london so, I waited an hour for her to come until I talked to her and she said because I "played" her she was playing me so, not coming 😢😞(this was in 2014)

So in 2015 I was clean about a year so, I applied & got accepted for McNally Smith college of music (to major in audio production) in st Paul Minnesota where I Was clean for months until (for some reason I forgot but, probably running around fast) I got kicked out of my weightlifting gym out there so I was upset and, found some people @ a park near downtown st Paul smoking weed which I got in on and, ten weeks later I saw someone with dreads buying a dutch in a bodega so, I asked if he knew where to get weed and: It turned out he was a dealer so I ended up buying lot's of weed and trading for studio time for him to record but, I got caught smoking sometimes in my dorm & because I got in arguments with students and staff at college so, they warned me if I got in ANY fight in or, outside of school I would be expelled & I DID get expelled; probably because of the fight where I sent that guy who hit my head with a brick to the hospital (which drew a LOT of attention and PROBABLY was on the news)

Though they said it was because I got in too many arguments and, smoked too much weed in my dorm...

So I moved back with my grandma later in 2015 where I was until she kicked me out for smoking weed and k2 so, I was homeless In which I slept under a blanket near the library and, behind a church in hamden until, the church let me live in their garage when it became winter so I stayed there until early 2016 where, I moved to a spot in Hamden off the bike trail in the woods where I started with a one person tent until I stole a 8 person tent from Walmart and, uused a shopping cart to carry a bed my friend gave away down the bike trail to my spot and late I stole a propane heater plus propane powered stove so I stole an empty propane can outside of krauzers and I kept paying $20 to get it filled at The car wash up the street so I used it to cook ramen and, oatmeal on my stove and power my heater in the winter and I finally got clean in August 2016 while STILL homeless then completed a course to get into CTWORKS which helped me get nice used suits and an interview g for the job I got at Chipotle in December 2016 while, still homeless 😪 I told them I still lived at my grandmas and took showers at my friend's house until I got a la fitness membership with my first paycheck which was actually through the woods near my tent so, I took showers there EVERY morning & worked out there in addition to, at my tent where I still had a barbell set from my grandmas and, then in the spring of 2017 I applied to and, got a landscaping job I saw on the ctworks job search online so I woke up at 5am EVERY morning with a battery powered alarm clock I stole from Walmart and, caught the first Whitney bus that went downtown at 5:30 and, then I took the next train around 5:45 to go to milford where, the landscaping base is so I ran there when I got to Milford around 6am to get there on time by 6:30-45

So I worked there while I was still homeless and, I got approved for shelter plus Care which some people That lived in the woods near me told me about and, I got my apartment with 2 jobs off the post road behind dunkin donuts in West Haven so, I took The bus up the post road to get to BOTH jobs until, I saw a moped for sale from east haven on Craigslist for$200 in mid spring of 2017 which, I rode to my jobs on until, I got a drivers permit (coincidentally on the day I heard my grandma was dying so, I Went to her house and Watched her die 😥

Then I took drivers ed classes;

Then I started getting driving lessons in late spring 2017 until I learned to drive in a couple months so, I took the drivers test in summer 2017 and, then took motorcycle classes at north haven gateway (where I ran into my dr's receptionist Alexandra ai had a crush on (who I even had written and recorded a song about) then, my mom helped me get my 250 ninja from new Haven power sports so: I drove that to my jobs until my crash on August 6th 2019 which, I don't remember but, I woke up at the residential physical rehab hospital Gaylord where : I leave weekly what happened was I hit an suv on mg way to work, had a right brain stroke & broken pelvic also my left side was paralyzed and got contractures (where my left arm, fingers and left got really curled up and difficult to straighten so I'm still working on walking again 😥

(I'm getting botox injections to help my left side straighten and , I'm able to my left leg and arm though, they're really bent and my fingers are too bent for me to move, use,or, hold anything😪

So now I am living at my aunts waiting to get another apartment through my insurance agency while, I still get votox every 2 months unrtil I hopefully gain control and use of my left side😪 &, the ability to walk again...

I went from being REAL STRONG to, being weak (though I'm ljfting more with my right arm with a dumbbell then I used to!)

Either way: I'm a survivor!

💪🏽😁👍🏼

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tsukiyaki · 4 years

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2020 LC: Prologue

Sometimes, dreams come in whispers, and those whispers don’t stem from selfish desires, but rather God’s promises. When that happens, God can answer even the prayers that you didn’t have the guts to put words to or wrote off as impossible or wishful thinking. His timing is perfect, so trust Him in the waiting. The days, months, or years it takes Him to set up the dominoes in your life are so worth it. When the time is right, everything falls into place in a way that will leave you in awe and unable to do anything but worship Him.

Tomorrow, I set out on a journey that He has been preparing me for over the last 3 years. It’s hard to surprise me, but God gets me every time--I was clueless to what He was up to until I found myself in front of an open door I never had to fight for.

Pray for me, that I would take all that I learn from this leadership cohort and be fruitful, gladly yielding to His pruning throughout. Celebrate with me, for God has been good beyond measure. Read on if you want to know the full story!

November 11, 2016, I met A. Until the last year or so, I called him “Pastor A” (and sometimes referred to him half-jokingly as “Father A”), as most contexts in which I encountered him were within the church, with him at the pulpit.

In 2016, he spoke at a youth leadership retreat. The way he taught and spoke blew my mind--it was his understanding of how humans work, his uncanny ability to read all kinds of people and really get through to them, the way he ended every message with practical application exercises that grew all of us, students to young adults alike. Away from the pulpit, he was incredibly down to earth. I will never forget wondering, should I be concerned that the same man who left me awestruck moments ago with his preaching seems to have a lot of creative ideas about how to break into a car? Nah, this is way too entertaining. (Context: A was helping an uncle try to get into his locked car after said uncle lost his car keys.)

April 28-29, 2017, I couldn’t contain my excitement being under A’s tutelage again at counselors’ retreat. It was during this retreat that I learned about the company he works for, and the tools and models he uses to build leadership pipelines and empower people across all kinds of institutions, not just in the church. I was deeply unsatisfied by my career at the time. I felt lost and aimless in life. A shined like a beacon of hope, living proof that there could be something professionally worth doing in this world that actually connected to my passions. And then was born my unspoken prayer: How I would love to learn from him and do what he does one day.

But you see, A doesn’t live in California, and I wasn’t planning on leaving. The competency gap between us was daunting. I had no reason to believe that out of all the people he met, he would take notice of little old me. Even if he did, why would he choose to invest in me? I decided to know my place and be grateful for the fact that he even remembered me and was willing to spare a few minutes of his precious time to check in on me over the upcoming years.

At one point, he made me cry in public, and I thought it might be nice to not have that experience again--all the more reason to move on with life. (Context: He rebuked me for undermining my influence out of false humility as a group of friends standing to the side couldn’t help but listen in because what he was saying was that convicting, and it was the most loving correction I’ve ever received from a human being, but also embarrassing and really hard because criticism of any kind makes me initially feel like a failure.)

May 4, 2018, after a grueling 6 month interview process that in and of itself was a miraculous work of God, I signed the offer letter to my current company. Finally, I was a full time employee who would soon experience the full force of imposter syndrome and fear of selling out. But I also had the most clarity at this point in time that I was excited for this opportunity because I knew my purpose was to proclaim the gospel and establish His kingdom at work.

January 24, 2019, A somehow found my number (probably through my work profile) and texted me about coming to my company to start a leadership pipeline. He invited me to come to the introductory workshop on the 30th. I went. Even though it was material I’d already seen multiple times before, it still deeply impacted me. However, I decided not to join the 2019 cohort, and fell out of contact with A after February.

February 22-24, 2019, Ignite retreat. Pastor D, whom I also deeply respect and adore, returned for a second year as our speaker. I left retreat with 2 major takeaways: I need to journal, and I need mentors (plural). Pastor D taught me that mentorship comes in different forms, and paying to be part of a cohort or to take a leadership class is an option that I ought to be open to. The first thing I thought of was A’s leadership cohort, and I wondered if I had missed out. But I knew I hadn’t made a mistake, because I had no motivation to join that cohort, given that it was aimed at the specific context of developing me as a leader at my job, which was the last thing I wanted to invest more time into. Nonetheless, the importance of self awareness and guidance sat at the forefront of my mind for the rest of the year.

June 11, 2019, I won’t explain in detail how serendipitous it felt on this day when God once again by no accident brought about a major turning point in my career. But this was the day that hope broke through. My manager started the process of helping me switch to a product I love. The transition happened officially on September 3rd. For the first time in 5 years, I actually found my job life-giving. I started to see a future here that I wanted to invest in.

October 7, 2019, I don’t remember exactly how this happened, but I suddenly realized I really missed A. I texted him to check in, half expecting to be ignored because of how long it had been (clearly, I still had issues believing that he cared about me, which now that I think about it, was probably because I hadn’t been useful to him for months, and my core Enneagram fear is that nobody would want me around if I’m not useful). I happened to check in right after he had completed his 2019 cohort, just in time to be invited to another kickoff meeting. The thought of mentorship was swirling through my mind again, and I realized I was in a place of genuine interest in joining the 2020 cohort. However, the financial barrier was holding me back. I was planning on buying a new car, I’m still paying for my Invisalign, and I just didn’t know if I was willing to take another hefty sum out of my budget.

November 13, 2019, I missed the entire kickoff meeting due to work, but I dropped by at the end to say hi anyway. All my fears and anxieties about being forgotten or unwanted melted away, and I realized on this day how much of a mentor figure A already is in my life. I told him afterwards that ever since I met him, he has shown up consistently at key moments/turning points in my life and given me the push I need to move forward. His existence reminds me that God sees me and takes care of me. He told me he’d be around again in December and actually have time to catch up, which is rare, given how packed his schedule usually is. He also encouraged me to consider joining the cohort this time. I promised to think about it.

December 10, 2019, we caught up over a casual dinner, during which A learned just how ridiculous my work life balance has historically been, how I believe that my experience has been unique because God has graciously given me all the time I need to fulfill His missional purpose for me at work, and how my passion lies in championing the people around me. Having heard my story, he went full big picture mode and basically told me to not only join the 2020 cohort, but to do so as his apprentice, that he may raise me up to one day be able to do what he does. He addressed every barrier I once had, and they were no longer an issue. The dominoes fell.

My mind short-circuited as it took some quantum leaps down memory lane (imagine all the details in this blog post and more crashing into my brain at the same time). A stared at me expectantly, slightly amused but mostly confused as to why I was not visibly excited, but rather either at a loss for words or spewing nonsensical protest coming from a place of not feeling worthy of this offer. Honestly, I was in extreme shock that God would not only do the bare minimum of turning my unspoken prayer from years ago into a possibility, but that He went the extra mile to meet every condition that I added on top of that prayer before making it a reality.

I helplessly looked to my friend sitting next to me to help me make sense of what just happened. He said something along the lines of, “Why are you looking at me? I think this is a great idea!” I still hit the brakes as gently as I could and told A I needed time to process, and I would officially confirm my participation with him only after I talked to my manager.

I got manager approval the next day.

Tomorrow, January 29th, will be our first cohort meeting. I hope to document this journey, my lessons and takeaways, so I don’t forget them, and so that I have a record of God placing down the next set of dominoes in my life.

#dominoes

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gojiayiblog-blog · 4 years

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“culture Hybird” --A workshop about making shortbread

Critical thinking

Through this social practice in B16, I re-understand art. I always think that the creation and display of art is in a place with a relatively "ceremonial sense". For example, we will create in a studio and display works in galleries, museums and other formal places. However, in this event, art was directly transferred to people's daily lives. Artistic language and artistic methods have become simple, they are extremely close to people's daily lives. It is because of this that there is more space for the development of artistic thought.

Firstly, art comes from life, whether it is "game theory", "labor theory", "witchcraft theory" ... In fact, it is essentially an activity that occurs in life. This should be a feeling of my coming to Birmingham to study, especially after this activity. In China, everyone only accepts works of art in the school system, and people rarely value the art of life. However, this practice in B16 made me feel that everyone who participated in the "shortbread" event had their own unique ideas. They had serious thoughts on what to express, and their attitude towards this little cookie was serious too.

Secondly, art is the combination of simple individuals. No matter how large a work of art is, it is continuously completed step by step. Even great art ideas are promoted by small ideas. The average production time of everyone was only about 10 minutes, but the short time recorded the thoughts that flashed in their minds. Joseph Beuys said, "Everyone is an artist." In reality, not everyone is an artist. I think it is because the artist is good at recording every simple and small thought in his daily life. In the end, these small thoughts are enough to become a work, from quantitative change to qualitative change.

Finally, the art of life is the more real. Towards the end of the event, when I delivered the baked "work" to each of them, they did not simply pick up and eat it like they would treat a biscuit. Almost everyone held up the plate and looked at the shortbread carefully, and when I interviewed them and asked about the meaning of the pattern, people also looked very excited. In their opinion, this shortbread has a special meaning. In my opinion, this may be a rare self-creation in their life, and I designed this event to have the honor of witnessing their occurrence. People's feedback has also impressed me greatly.

This time, although it was carried out for the purpose of cultural exchange, let the participants know some information about the culture of Chinese ancient characters. However, what I saw at the event was not just the sharing of foreign cultures. It is a strong response from the participation of art in social practice.

General idea about the course

Linked to the practices of art participating in society, I suddenly thought that during the Spring Festival in China, almost every community will hold activities for artists to write Spring Festival couplets and send blessings. Therefore, I decided to hold a cultural sharing and exchange activity in B16.

Inspirations (1)

In the UK, my major course is contemporary art China, and the element of calligraphy is more and more widely used in contemporary art. Famous contemporary Chinese artists like Xu Bing, Gu Wenda, Zhang Huan, etc. are all frequently use calligraphy elements to create their works. Actually, I've always been confused that as a person whose first language is not Chinese, how do they appreciate calligraphy works? Until I came into contact with some works of the American abstract expressionist painter Franz Kline (1910-1962), such as New York, NY 1953, Crow Dancer, etc. it can be simply said that without techniques and cultural background, calligraphy is a kind of black and white Art, frame and space art. Therefore, calligraphy is not as esoteric as I thought in my mind, nor is it inaccessible to everyone. Calligraphy can show its simplest and most essential charm in other countries.

Xu Bing, Happy Chinese New Year.

Zhang Huan, Family Tree.

Franz Kline, New York.

Franz Kline, Crow Dancer.

Inspirations (2)

In China, my research direction is calligraphy, and my interest is about Chu Jian. Chu Jian appeared in the Spring and Autumn period and the Warring States period over two thousand years ago, an ancient character written on bamboo pieces. Of course, choosing it as the basis for this social practice is not only related to my interests. I also think that this type of text not only inherits the pictographic characteristics of the original text (Oracle or Bronze Inscriptions), but also lays the foundation for the development and evolution of Chinese characters today. Chu Jian's fonts are changeable, and the structure is diverse. It is easy to innovate and change it.

Chu Jian

About B16 and own thought

Based on these cognitions, I further thought that since I want to share the Chinese culture with the residents of ladywood, what can I show them differently? Relay on the information and field investigations, I pay attention On B16's Edgbaston Reservoir, this reservoir is a feature of B16. And the origin of human civilization is the river culture, so I think water plays a pivotal role in our lives. Therefore, I chose the shape of the word "水"（water）as the base image and decided to let the friends at Neighbor Night try to use this image to describe the B16 in their impression. Of course, based on Chu Jian's high plasticity, this " "Water" can be deformed and placed anywhere. Like "浴"（bath）, the character ‘water’ can be placed below and left; Like the character "酒"（wine） deforms “water” into two curves; The word "渊"（deep water） puts the word "water" in the middle.

“浴”

“酒”

“渊”

Tutorial ideas

After discussing with the teacher, the teacher gave me a lot of opinions and asked me to refer to a project called "Daily Bread" by artist Onkar Kular, (http://www.onkarkular.com/index.php?/project/bread/) which is a project involving children. First, introduce children to the history of bread, teach them how to make bread and taste different breads from around the world. Then, the children design breads with different recipes for different uses. Finally, bake these designs out.

After referring to this, I think that to better spread the art of calligraphy, I must turn it into something ordinary in life. Therefore, I decided that the "logo" that everyone has designed can be made into food, which will also increase the fun of this event. The teacher gave me a good opinion is that food can choose "shortbread", this is a traditional Scottish biscuit. I really agree with that which on one way it is a traditional food, and it can be a represent of British culture; on the other hand, it is easy to shape some patterns.

Own practice about B16

At the same time, I also designed an example of a "logo". My design inspiration comes from the "渊" (deep water) of Chujian characters. This is a wrapped Chinese character with a character means water in the middle. It reminds me of the space b16 on the map, which is similar to this word. Edgbaston Reservoir is in the middle of B16, occupying a small seat. The outline of B16 is very similar to a bat who wants to fly. According to the data, the reservoir is surrounded by woodland and grassland，and the area supports a valuable city site for animals such as newts and bats. So, this simple logo I designed is a Chinese character with a bat shape and a "water" in the middle.

After all, I don't know much about the local culture, and I can only express a regional feature here. I believe that the local people know and feel much more about this than me, and they can design a logo with more local characteristics. This is also the original intention of my organization of this workshop. I hope that there can be sufficient collision and communication between different cultures.

Event final content

One week before the event, after the teacher discussed with the person in charge of B16 "Eat, Make, Play ", I was allowed to use the on-site oven, which ensured that my project could be carried out smoothly. And I confirmed and organized all the procedures of the event with Dem again: A workshop about making shortbread to create a hybrid between calligraphy and B16.First step is using Ancient Chinese character“水”(water) as a basic image to create individual shapes by participants. The second step is to carve their design on the made dough and bake it!

My plan had to make a small adjustment once again, because the time was only 2 hours, and there were 7 activities on site at the same time. In other words, there is a plane B, which is to select some iconic words that are closely related to the community in advance, and let residents refer to the sample to cut out shapes. Although this step lacks the step of independent design, it is also a good idea to let them feel Chinese culture when doing shortbread. After all, it only takes 2 hours.

D-day prepare

In the afternoon of December 4th, I made some shortbread of Chinese characters in advance, including Chinese ancient characters such as "爱"（love）, "和"（peace）, "人"（people）, etc. These are some beautiful words to describe the community. I hope that residents at 6pm will like these shortbreads in the form of ancient text. At the same time, in order to save time, I prepared the dough that I was going to knead on site.

Happy Neighbor Night

In order to be fully prepared to welcome the residents of B16 who came to Neighbor Nigh, we came to the Christ Church in advance, and I took the time to place my "baked examples" in advance. As the teachers introduced our projects one by one, the residents cheered, and the event has started!

On site (1)

At the beginning, everyone felt very novel and kept sighing "This is a Chinese character? " "This is so interesting!" “It’s not like Chinese characters, it’s more like a pattern.”

Soon, a resident came to me with great interest and designed his own shortbread, which is also my first shortbread today. I explained to him that this is an ancient Chinese word for water, but he explained to me while he was portraying that I didn't think it looked like a river or water, and I felt that the form was like steam, and an "X" was marked below to indicate negation, and a love was drawn on the entire picture. He said he hopes that the world can pay attention to the issue of climate warming, and also hopes that the problem of climate warming can be improved.

On site (2)

There is also an American friend who came to ladywood shortly after. She said that she did not think much when drawing these patterns. She just felt that there should be a lot of fish jumping on the water, so she designed this picture and used the extra dough to make a fish look，and hope everyone can pay more attention to environmental issues.

On site (3)

Towards the end of the event, I found that everyone seemed very reluctant to be restricted by the B16 area. Residents reflected issues such as climate warming, environmental pollution, and personal interests on the image of "水"（water）. Everyone wants to express their feelings. I originally thought that there would be no time for everyone to design the patterns themselves, but everyone seemed to have the desire to create, saving the time of designing on paper and engraving the patterns directly on the dough. A newly moved resident even thought about 3 minutes before he started engraving it.

In the end, a little girl walked in front of me and portrayed one. It is demanding for a child to have some knowledge of this place and the world. So, I did not require her anything. When I asked her what was carved, she said "Pokemon" in a small voice, and when I asked further, she didn't give any more explanation. This should be the smallest participant in my activity today.

“Episode”

I was infected by the atmosphere at that time, and I participated in the activities of other friends on the spot.

In the meantime, a resident came to me and exchanged her shortbread. She thinks that my idea is very good to make Chinese characters in this form, and she generally makes shortbread into traditional shapes, and may only make some changes in taste at most. Actually, it's really easy to make life art.

The end

The event is over. Although some of the residents' designs have nothing to do with ladywood, they are the truest reactions to their lives. I think it is also very good. They extended the questions to be answered and the ideas to be displayed beyond B16, which I did not expect. I am still very satisfied with the results of the event, and everyone is actively participating in my event. Let me have a new definition of art. Art does not have to be so great and extraordinary. Art can also be simple and ordinary. Only when art participates in life can it magnify the meaning of art.

After the event, I shared the activity of the day and my first experience of combining community and art with my roommate. She also showed great interest. Since this event is mainly based on people’s feelings and the word "水"（water）. Then I decided to invite her to also design a shortbread about "水"（water） as a small extension about this activity. She said that she would think of "fire" when she mentioned water, so she wrote a Chinese character "fire" with flowing lines of water. I told her that there is an idiom in China called "水火不容" （Water and fire cannot merge with each other），which is a metaphor for the bad relationship between people. She suddenly appeared very confused, and then deducted the two points of "fire" into two hearts, indicating Water and fire can merge with each other，which she named that people should live in harmony with each other. The energy carried in the small pattern is huge. A seemingly ordinary social activity has a different impact on participants and me.

Who says calligraphy culture can only be displayed in writing brush, Chinese ink, Chinese paper, and Yantai? Shortbread is also very acceptable. Who says art can only be presented in exhibition halls? An ordinary church is also possible.

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years

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11/27/2019 DAB Transcript

Daniel 4:1-37, 2 Peter 1:1-21, Psalms 119:97-112, Proverbs 28:17-18

Today is the 27th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It's great to be here with you today as we pass through the center of the last week of this month. And I guess traditionally here in the United States, this a big cooking day like a big preparation day. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, which is a national holiday for us here…here in the United States and then the day after that’s Black Friday and I think worldwide that sort of kicks off the Christmas season. So, here we are right at the threshold of a busy season for us but we have a rhythm that we've established all year and we come around this Global Campfire where there is peace and where there is calm and we let God's word speak into our lives. And, so, that's what we'll do. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Today, Daniel chapter 4. And when we get to the New Testament we’ll be beginning of Peter's second letter known as second Peter but first Daniel chapter 4.

Introduction to Second Peter:

Alright. So, as we mentioned at the beginning, we finished first Peter yesterday, which brings us to second Peter today. And the second letter of the apostle Peter is thought to be the final writing of Peter's life, but it's also important to understand that the authorship of this particular letter has been questioned, going all the way back into antiquity. The acceptance of the idea that the apostle Peter wrote this letter, that happened over time and the letter was considered Scripture by the fourth century. In the more modern era scholars have observed stylistic differences between first and second Peter. So, those who would defend Peter's authorship would say he…he was dictating…like he…he may have been illiterate...he wasn't writing these things, he was saying them, and they were being written down by a secretary. So, he just used two different secretaries who wrote down the thoughts that he was saying. But all in all there are compelling reasons to consider this letter like we do the letter to the Hebrews or the book of Hebrews as in the author is unknown, but there are equally compelling reasons to consider the author to be the apostle Peter as is named in this letter. So, if the apostle Peter wrote second Peter it would've likely been in the late 60s. A.D. and he would've been martyred shortly thereafter. And our church tradition holds that during his execution period Peter was crucified upside down at his own request and that may in fact be the true truth. The Bible doesn't verify that. It's a very long-running tradition of the church. And Peter didn't explicitly say who he was writing to in second Peter. He said he was writing to you who share the same precious faith that we have. So, we assume that he was writing to the same people he wrote his first letter to because he referred to the first letter in the second one, the one that we’re about to read. And these letters have different purposes. First Peter sought to bolster and encourage and instruct believers about how to endure the pressures that were coming against them. Second Peter will warn about false teaching and evil behavior from within. But rather than like just looking at this letter as another encouragement and try to live better, we have to know that Peter's about to die and he says as much in this letter. This is Peter, right? This is the man who walked with Jesus along the Sea of Galilee. This is a person who saw Jesus perform His miracles. This is a person who was a friend of Jesus, laughed with Him, cried with Him, lived with Him, ate his last supper with Him. And of course, we know the story of Peter. This is the man who denied Him and watched him die, but this is also the man who saw Jesus raised to life again. And this is the man who preached the first sermon after the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost and 3000 people decided to follow Jesus. So, this letter, these may be the final living words of the apostle Peter. And, so, we should give them the weight that they deserve in our lives. And, so, we begin. Second Peter chapter 1.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we have…well…we have talked about second Peter and we've begun to read it and so let’s just…let's look at what we read today for just a quick second because we have some addition, some spiritual addition to do. We’ll have to kind of unpack the introduction to this letter. The letters in the Bible…the greetings in the letters in the Bible…they’re…they’re usually really long comprehensive sentences and you’ve gotta go, “let's read that slower.” So, let's do that. “Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life.” Alright, we could just pause there and think of that for a minute. We have been given what we need to live this life. And we've been given it through our knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness. “Through these”, through God's divine power and our knowledge of him, “through these, He has given us His very great and precious promises. So, through His divine power and through our knowledge we have been given these precious promises, so that through them”, the promises, “so that through those promises we get to participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.” That's two verses and one paragraph that says an awful lot about our status as brothers and sisters, as children of God in this world. But we’re…we’re still working through this. “For this very reason. So, for the reason that we just talked about, that we get to participate in the divine nature of God because He has given us that promise, because of that, for that very reason we need to do some adding. “Make every effort to add to your faith goodness and add to goodness, knowledge, and add to knowledge, self-control, and add to self-control, perseverance, and add on to perseverance godliness, and add to godliness, mutual affection, and add to mutual affection, love. If you possess these qualities” and I'm quoting Peter here. “If you possess these qualities in increasing measure”, in other words, “if you keep adding to these things, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. Whoever doesn't have these things is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they’d been cleansed from their past sins.” That's an awful lot. I mean there's…there's a bunch here that's going on because we walk around feeling like we’re like weighted down by this…by our sins because we fail all the time. And, so, we’re estranged from God. There's so much in this that we can look and go, “okay. If this is true, this weight of sin that I carry around all the time feeling as if God is angry at me, it's an illusion, He’s not angry at me, He doesn't see them, they are not a part of my life. I certainly can choose to…to rebel in some way against God, but all of the things that have led me to this point, God has forgiven…they are not a part of my life, they are not a part of my identity anymore. So, rather than adding shame to guilt and then adding condemnation and then adding rebellion and then following that spiral down. I have a different math problem to do. I need to be adding to my faith, goodness and knowledge and self-control and perseverance and godliness and mutual affection and love. Then I will not wonder what's going on and I will not wonder why am living in unproductive life. If I'm adding these things together, I will be effective and productive in my knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ”, according to second Peter. So, that can explain a lot about the state we’re in about the status of our lives. And, so, let’…I mean there's a lot…reread it today. Think about these things. Today we’re going into a very busy season, a season that we can move through with excellence and precision following the leading of the Holy Spirit, enjoying the joy of the season and spreading that joy to everyone that we encounter or we can get bowled over and end up at December 31st, making the same New Year's resolutions we made last year. It's a big circle a year, a big circle around the sun and we can end up right where we started if we don't obey what we’re hearing.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that because it's just flatly the truth. We've experienced it enough times, we’ve seen the patterns, it’s the truth and yet Your word continually pulls us forward out of those patterns that are going nowhere and that has happened today. Help us Father as we move into this season to add to our faith, goodness and to our 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. Then we will be effective and productive as we move through the rest of this year. Come Holy Spirit into this, we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website and home base for what's going on around here.

And now we’re moving into the holiday season and so the Daily Audio Bible family Christmas Box for 2019 is available. We wanted to jump out in front of Black Friday a little bit just to give a few extra days for international shipments. We ship internationally. But like I was saying yesterday, the cost of shipping internationally are just really, really high. And, so, we have this arrangement where it’s a lot cheaper, more like domestic shipping, it just takes longer and take more than three weeks. So, the international cutoff date for shipping Christmas Boxes in time for Christmas will be the 2nd of December, which is a Monday. So, just a few days from now. Of course, shipping domestically inside the United States, it’s no problem. So, we’ve got…got time there as long as supplies last. In this year's Christmas Box is one of my very favorites that we've ever done because I think it centers us in the journey of a year, the rhythm of a year. And, so, the God of Your Story, this new daily resource that really is the heart, the essence of the Daily Audio Bible in book form, in written form is in the box. So, a signed first edition copy of the God of Your Story is in the box but also our new Daily Audio Bible Journal 2.0…I can…I mean…we do throughout the year talk about writing things down, and especially when we see that mimicked in the Scriptures, but I can't tell you how important it is to write things down, especially things that…that are like insights that you have received from the Holy Spirit through his word…like as you’re moving through the Scriptures. It's crazy how you can have something that actually is like a missing puzzle piece in your life snap into place and then after lunch, you’re like, “what was that again?” But it was like so important, and then it's gone. But when we write these things down, they’re there, and we can go back through a year of these kinds of insights and transformations in our lives and review these things and lock them in. So, I guess the best the best way I can say it is, if you feel God speaking to you, take notes. And, so, we have the new Daily Audio Bible Journal 2.0 in the Christmas Box this year for next year's journey. Also, some of our most popular Global Campfire items from the new Global Campfire line of resources that we released just a couple months ago. So, the Global Campfire Daily Audio Bible candle is in the Christmas Box and worked hard to get this candle to smell like campfire so that it evokes the community that we share, the Global Campfire. So, Global Campfire candle is in the box. Two of the Gobal Campfire stickers, five of the Global Campfire postcards, in a nice…nice little plastic wrap to keep them safe. The Daily Audio Bible Christmas ornament for 2019, which…well…has Daily Audio Bible 2019 on it and our word for the year which has been “Maintain” is in the Christmas box. The Global Campfire pop socket for your phone or tablet device is in the Christmas box. 20 of the Daily Audio Bible Christmas cards for 2019 and their envelopes, those are in the box as well as your choice of our Windfarm DAB blend coffee, fresh roast, it will be freshly roasted and sent to you or your choice of our boutique tea, whichever you prefer. So, it’s a great Christmas Box. It's available now in the Daily Audio Bible Shop at dailyaudiobible.com or you can get to the Shop in the Daily Audio Bible app by pushshig…pressing the little Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner and that'll get you there.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. And I can't thank you enough for your partnership as we move into toward the end of the year. So, there’s a link on the homepage. If using you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996, Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment you can dial 877-942-4253 or just press the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top and start sharing your story.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello Daily Audio Bible family today is November 20th and can I just say Rachel from Pennsylvania and Ben, you guys made my day. I was listening to community prayer from November 2nd and you were praying, oh my goodness, for the devil to get out of two boys heads and having voices. It is such a beautiful fresh breath of air to just listen to Ben praying. Yes, telling the devil to get out right now. I smiled all day. I can replay that prayer over and over again. Oh. Jesus said let them…let the little kids come to me. Yes. For the kingdom of God is for as such the faith of the little kids. I love this community because a lot of parents encourage their kids to come to Jesus. And it’s so beautiful when you’re here even the little kids who are calling in and praying for their friends and praying for their parents and praying for even other members of this community. Can we continue to pray for little generation to continue loving Jesus? So, Rachel I just want to say thank you for calling and for involving your little kids to also pray. Oh. I know Jesus heart is so smiling. Thank you so much. I just wanted to call and say thank you. Daily Audio Bible family this Alfio calling from Delaware. Make it a great day. Bye-bye.

Eliab, David’s brother this is Jesse’s oldest son burned with anger at David’s question and asked him why he’d come. Why don’t you just leave now go finish up those chores? Why is it that you came here and left those few sheep of yours? King David said, I’m not afraid. He went and told Saul that he was going to go and make things right. He said no, you’re just a boy I must tell you the truth you are no match for this giant who’s been trained up from his youth. David said his father sheep I have kept safe from both lion and bear. When they were up against me, I caught them by the hair. God gave back the lamb to me out of the lion’s jaws. My God who delivered me from both bear and the Lions paws, my God will do the same again. This victory will be mine. __ the living God some circumcised philistine. Saul said go ahead and try if you think you can. David knew the Lord would give Goliath into his hands. __ to give you some for protection that will shelter you from harm. Why don’t you go ahead and try my armor on? David tried to wear it, but he had to take it off. He said I’m just not used to that and went to look for some rocks. Five smooth stones he spotted shining on the ground. Stuck four in his shepherd’s pouch and in his sling, slung one around. My name is Diana Blake Davis. I have metastatic breast cancer that’s metastasized to my brain. I’m stage IV. I’m 57 but I have two autistic boys 19 and 21. God has provided everything for us. So, we need prayer and what you just heard was from Jewels of the Bible. And I took the Bible line by line and I pulled out the stories and I made them rhyme only because Brian, I’ve been listening to you every single day for 12 years and I love you forever.

Hi, Desperately Running to Jesus it’s never too late to build a relationship with our Creator and the moniker you chose tells me that you have a great mindset now. 15 years ago, I was 54 and I finally apologized to God for my sins and bad choices. I found a church that taught me how to build a relationship with Jesus. I joined a life group and met people that became the friends who…who cared about me. Six years ago, I heard about DAB and this community and the podcast that family…the Daily Audio Bible and Facebook which…where people encourage, inspire and taught me about God and other people, myself, my family. What I know is this, that thanking God and praising God every day is an essential thing to do. Asking God for guidance in everything you do is essential as well. And listening for the voice in your head that says do or don’t do what you’re about to do and volunteering in your church and or in your community will change you in wonderful ways. I am praying for you.

[singing begins] give thanks with a grateful heart give thanks [singing ends]. Hi everybody it’s Candace from Oregon. I just want to encourage you all to start listing all the things you’re thankful for. Our world is trying to drag us down, the enemy is trying to drag us and we’re thinking just about anything else except what were thankful for. Oh Lord I thank You for health, I thank You for the country that I live in. I thank You for faithful servants who keep our lives just filled with blessing Lord. I thank You for the pastors in all our churches. I pray that You’ll be with them and help them to surrender themselves completely to Your Holy Spirit as they lead Your bride, as they bring our attention and our focus back to You. Lord, thank You for Your word and that Brian Hardin reads this to us every day 365 days of the year and how it is transforming our lives. Thank You for Your Holy Spirit. Thank You, Lord for everything that You are doing. You are a good and gracious God, beautiful beyond description, too marvelous for words. Thank You for the sunrise, the sunset, the moon and the starry night. We love You Lord. We love You. We love You back. Candace from Oregon.

Hi everybody it’s Lisa the Encourager just calling to say hello to everyone. I’ve missed calling in and talking to everyone and praying for everyone, but I promise you I am still listening and I’m still praying for you. As you call in your prayers I’m praying on the sidelines. But I wanted to call in today to encourage Margo because when you called in Margo your prayer request and your message that you left, it just seemed like you were really and a sad spot since your son left and I just wanted to let you know that I am praying for you and holding you up high in my mind as far as everything you’ve given up. You left Australia and went to Africa and just…now you’re in a missions and given up so much of your life. And I just am so impressed with everything that you’ve done, and you’ve done it all for the Lord. And just don’t ever forget that because God is gonna reward you for eternity. And, so, what you’ve given up temporarily on this earth God is gonna reward you tenfold in heaven one day. And I’m so envious of everything that you’ve done for the Lord and hope that I will be able to do half as much. So, also wanted to encourage everyone too. I decided to buy the God of Your Story for our…my pastor. I’m going to surprise him and give it to him for Christmas. So, I just wanted to encourage everybody to maybe think about doing that too. And maybe if not your pastor then at least someone this Christmas. Just surprise them with that gift and ask God who you should bless with the God of Your Story and I think that would be a wonderful gift for anyone at Christmas. All right. Love you so much. Bye-bye.

[singing starts] How deep the father’s love for us. How vast beyond all measure. That He should give His only son to make a wretch His treasure. How great the pain our searing Loss the father tells His __. As who’s which now the chosen one bring Mary’s sons to glory [singing stops]. Good morning everybody. I greet you my Daily Audio Bible family. I’m a Dr. Kamari and I’ve been listening to Daily Audio Bible for about two years now and it has been such a blessing. And today I just want to encourage those who are perhaps going through a period of suffering whether it’s sickness, whether it’s loss, whatever it might be I want you to be encouraged that you can find healing in the wounds of Jesus. And it’s such a paradox. How can something which was broken for us produce healing and totalness and wholeness? But indeed, that is the mystery of His love. And I pray that His love overwhelms you wherever you are. I pray that even in your suffering you will learn to suffer well and by that I mean that you will know you will suffer well because you know that your suffering produces __ and perseverance, endurance, these qualities that cannot come about unless we go through to know that God is. Sometimes you will go through heartbreaks and know that He’s a healer and the mender of the brokenhearted. So, I lift you all up to the Lord and I thank you for your lives.

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thewhizzyhead · 3 years

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Hey, your misfits musical thing sounded super super interesting! Any other details about it that you're willing to share? Minor plot points? Gay Relationship stuff? :0

oh boy this is gonna be long *cracks knuckles* here we go

SO FUN BACKSTORY BEFORE I GET TO THE PLOT PARTS TJXJJS: my sunday school has a tradition of um holding productions of christmas musicals every december. My teachers would find american christian christmas kiddy musicals productions on youtube and then basically um translate all the dialogue to Filipino (the songs stay in English) and have us um reenact the whole thing and ngl it was a lot of fun! I even acted as some of the main roles there when I was like 10-13 so um I can kinda say that I have some experience with musical theatre YAYYY (jk jk that doesn't really count djsff).

When I was around 12-13 years old, I became obsessed with A Very Potter Musical and wondered what it would be like to make AVPM but Christmas so that my church could perform it (very silly idea but shh i was 12 and I was obsessed) and then over time a plot that Was Definitely Not Harry Potter started to form and them um here we are fjsjd so thank you Starkid for making me go down this hellhole

Oki backstory over, now here comes the very long part:

(Also um warning this musical concept involves a lot of religion talk since majority of the thingy is me criticizing a lot of the hypocrisies in religious institutions here based on my experience so um yea proceed with caution if ur sensitive to religion-related stuff)

p.s. ari i am so so sorry but this is so fucking long and definitely more than what you asked for so um yea goodluck fjxjsjf

SO BASICALLY Misfits is about 5 "narrators" - these guys serve as the "floor directors" of the show and um yea they make sure that the plot actuall happens and everything goes exactly according to the script given by the church higher ups or "producers" - who have to bring 3 teens branded by their church as "Misfits" back to Bethlehem 1 CE in order to "teach them a lesson about God" aka convert them to Christianity thus removing the "Misfits" branding. (Also they can only go back once they successfully arrive at the manger because um that's how the producers want it to be tjxjs)

I have to emphasize that although this tackles a lot of stuff related to Christianity and religion as a whole, this really isn't a Christian Musical and that this very morally questionable mission (through the power of Stage Magic and Super Powers, the Narrators essentially bring the Misfits back to the past against their will for the sake of completing their mission) goes horribly, horribly wrong very very quickly.

Throughout the course of the musical, the 5 Narrators struggle to stick to the given script and get their mission done as the 3 Misfits prove to not only be very freaking stubborn but also quite insightful as well as they bring up really good points in regards to religious hypocrisies and socially questionable, prejudiced and backward views commonly held by most religious institutions here i.e gender roles, homophobia, the demonization of science and technology at times, elitism and classism, etc etc (i can only speak in behalf of the Philippines so um yea Philippines). Overall, this is kinda a case study on as to how religion can influence and shape people's mindsets for either the better or the worse and how it is often used by the authorities to simultaneously give hope to the people (especially those of the poorer sectors wherein because of how hopeless the present seems here because a very flawed system kept in place by the exploitative privilged here, they choose to just trust in God instead and also hope that the afterlife is much much better than this shit) while also keeping them in line and like preventing them from rioting. (Church and politics undeniably go hand in hand here even though we have legislations enforcing the separation of the church and state and um yEA THIS WHOLE THING HAS BEEN VERY PROMINENT THROUGHOUT PHILIPPINE HISTORY AND WE CAN ALL THANK THE SPANIARDS but um anyways that'll be a rant for another day)

On a more personal and emotional aspect, this thingy also tackles a lot of stuff I find rather common among kids my age, especially those who had a very Christian upbringing (aka 99.9% of the philippine population tjxbdbf). There's a lot of questioning involved in regards to one's faith, sexuality, perspective and purpose in life and all that fun stuff and how oftentimes said questioning is discouraged due to the church (and ph society overall) wanting us to just like um sTICK TO THE STATUS QUOoOoO and just comply with what is seen as appropriate and godly cause anything out of the ordinary is ngl treated like it's heresy. (YES THERE WILL BE A LOT OF SELF PROJECTION HERE)

One final and important thing to note is that the show is essentially a musical-inside-a-musical in a way fjsjf I originally designed this thing to be like um produce-able on my church's stage (because they were supposed to help me produce the first version of misfits which um yea that's def not gonna happen now tjxjdv) which um kinda looks like the OG Spring Awakening Stage (and yes Misfits is very much inspired by Spring Awakening God I love that show) which is why the show is kinda stylized like a concert with handheld mics and all wherein um the 5 narrators are aware that they are putting on a show to the point of even directly addressing the audience a lot while the 3 Misfits (except for 1 which i'll get to in a bit) aren't aware that they are in a show. The three do eventually find that out and that's when all hell breaks loose to the point that the "producers" (represented by Hades-ish voices) have to intervene by literally changing and manipulating the show's setting and plot to make sure that their script gets followed and that's when the characters really try to break the show to get out of it bUT THE POINT I WANNA MAKE HERE IS THXJD keeping in mind that I had initially planned for Misfits to be produced by my church prior to the many drastic changes, the show the narrators were putting on (aka the musical-inside-the-musical) was made with the intention to pander to a Very Religious Audience. Successfully convincing people to convert to Christianity, especially those of the youth, is what many religious audiences want to see and that is exactly what the "producers" have written for the 5 "narrators and floor directors" to enact. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a Christian and preaching the Gospel and bringing in new believers isn't essentially a bad thing; if they want to believe in the religion then woo good for them! But, such preaching becomes detrimental when you take away one's agency and basically force them into Christianity by means of guilt tripping and manipulation which is sadly very much a reality here (again, a rant for another day) and a representation of such is shown here in the show where um the 3 Misfits were basically forced into this show that 5 Narrators are putting on and, through the influence of the 5 Narrators, the 3 Misfits have to decide to become "good Christian youths" for the show to conclude because that's show the "producers" have written. So when the 3 Misfits stubborness goes to the point that even the 5 Narrators start questioning the morals of their mission, that's when the show starts to go off-script and that's when the production starts to like umm "break" and whenever that happens, the "producers" start speaking to the Narrators, reminding them that they have an audience that they need to please and a message that they need to convey.

So while the Misfits (2 of them, at least, cause um the third one has um yea i'll get to him in a bit) mainly focus on figuring out what in the everliving fuck is going on (while also dealing with their um unfortunate circumstances, childhood trauma, a shit ton of guilt and the concept of salvation and self-forgiveness), the Narrators are tasked with the burden of carrying the show and making sure that the audience finds it appealing while trying to convince themselves that what the church wants them to do is "right" and what the Misfits keep telling them is "wrong" ala um Holier-Than-Thou mindset. Once they eventually start becoming more willing to see the true nature of both the Misfits and the Producers despite the fear of disappointing everyone who's watching, that's when the Narrators and Misfits all start breaking the show by going off-script and completely destroying the plot and production that the Producers have made for the audience - thus making a statement of refusing to comply with a flawed system for the sake of audience approval while also making the first step to fixing that system for the good of all.

Also fun fact: Although it'll make my job a lot harder because I am more fluent in English than in Filipino, i wanna write the thingy in both English and Filipino fjxjdf the dialogue can be Taglish but um the songs that are "part of the script" aka what the Producers want the characters to sing are in English while the songs that aren't part of the script are in Filipino; songs that are both in Filipino and in English are um i guess indicative of the struggle to follow the script while also trying to do what you believe is right (an example of a song with that style is Interpretasyon - which means Interpretation and um Ezekiel (one of the Misfits) sings in Filipino while Joshua (leader of the narrators) sings in English and um just imagine Wallflower cuz IT IS VERY MUCH LIKE WALLFLOWER GJDJNF) and um yea i kinda imagine it to be some sort of rock-pop musical concert thingy so um woo thank you pma for once again influencing my work

SO ANYWAYS UM THAT WAS LONG SO LET'S GO TO THE GAY SHIT

Okay so far 4/8 of the characters here have queerness directly related to their individual plotlines here but um yea honestly i'm tempted to make all of them queer CAUSE IT'S FUN oki so um anyways on to the character dynamics (I won't be able to include more in depth descriptions because im hungry and GOD THIS IS LONG so um yea)

June & Anna (Narrator 2) - oki so June here is one of the Misfits and she's from the poorer sectors (i'm still working on her backstory to make it more believable but um yea) and she isn't able to go to school due to having to prioritize providing for her family first. Due to a very unfortunate childhood event (one that involves Zack, another Misfit), she had to grow up fast and now appears to have a rather jaded view of the world. Anna, one of the Narrators, is the very opposite of that - she's privileged and wealthy-as-fuck and seems to be very optimisitc and friendly. However, ever since she has been blackmailed by her own churchmates for merely questioning her sexuality (true story), she became a more reserved and emotionally closed person despite her very friendly and cheerful demeanor. So when she finds out that June's music carries a lot of beautiful insight and hope in spite of her unfortunate circumstances (the two girls bond over music btw that's how Anna got June to trust in her), she becomes confused because how can June, a girl who has nothing, not even faith, still have hope that she'll be able to find some semblance of happiness while Anna, who has everything, has such a downtrodded view of the world? So um basically their dynamic will also consist of Anna checking her privilege, June explaining how good people turn against the world when the world turns against them (YES A LOT OF TALK ABOUT POVERTY AND HOW THAT IS A RESULT OF CAPITALISTIC EXPLOITATION) (yes June will talk about that a lot), and um what it means to hope with or without faith and what it means to trust another and oneself again. Oh and also lots of philosophy talk and emotional expression through music wie

Zack and Mikael (Narrator 3) - Zack, another Misfit, is a childhood friend of June and a younger stepbrother of Ezekiel (the third Misfit). After Zack and June lost contact after the 'unfortunate childhood event' (i am not sure on what exactly it'll be but in the earlier drafts a fire burned both of their homes and killed both of their dads and rn I have a song concept describing that called "Umaapoy" which means "Burns" but i dunno i'm still working on it), he became best friends with Mikael and um yea said best-friendship was Definitely Not Platonic. After a picture of them kissing was sent to not only the school principal but to basically everyone in the school, both of their parents were called to the principal's office which led to both of the boys moving to different schools to um mitigate the damage i guess gjdjd while Zack's mom eventually learned to accept her son's sexuality, Mikael um wasn't so lucky - I'd say he went through um a lot of religious intervention almost akin to conversion therapy which then um yea has caused him a lot of internalized homophobia and um yea Mikael and Zack haven't been able to talk or even chat in about 3-4 years so imagine Mikael's surprise when he found out that his mission involved Zack - who does not and cannot recognize Mikael because welp not part of the script. Zack, a bit braver now, takes a liking to Mikael and wants to at least be friends with him partly because he somehow finds him really familiar while um Mikael tries to maintain a strictly professional demeanor out of fear that Zack will recognize him and out of fear that he'll fall in love with Zack again. Their dynamic will also include um learning to trust one another and oneself again (like June & Anna's dynamic), to learn how to be brave and be sure in one's beliefs (Mikael um doesn't really speak up that much out of fear while Zack is not only outspoken, but is also an activist - this is another one of the many reasons why Zack is branded as a "Misfit" aside from the fact that he's gay and um yea Ezekiel spends almost 2 minutes berating Joshua for this out of pure anger and disgust), and what it means to reconnect with the past and to forgive oneself (although that is much more expounded upon with June & Zack's dynamic).

Ezekiel and Joshua (Narrator 1) - SAY HI TO THE RILEY AND CAIRO DYNAMIC WOOOOOOO but yea ari dude your analysis on Riley and Cairo (and Kate) being the Main MAIN characters and everything about cheerwives gave me a lot of think about and SO I PUT IT IN HERE WOOOOOO so basically um Ezekiel is the older stepbrother of Zack and the first of the 3 Misfits to figure out that they are in a show. He figures this out because he recognizes Joshua aka the leader of the Narrators aka his former churchmate and ex-bestfriend. He also realizes that they are in a show because he recognizes their tricks which he knew about because he had participated in these missions before as one of the Narrators (Joshua and Ezekiel are older than the rest of the cast and the other narrators don't know that Ezekiel was once a Narrator as well). Due to an Unfortunate Incident (that i'm still working on) 3 years prior to the events in the show, Ezekiel cut off all ties to the church but he is still viewed as this "perfect role model golden boy" which is why the 4 Narrators were shocked to find out that Ezekiel was part of their mission. Joshua, knowing that the real reason to his sudden involvement is due to "producers" somehow finding out their secret about the Unfortunate Incident, lied and told the others that he was just included to make converting his brother a lot easier, which they believed. Out of all the narrators, Joshua is the one who tries his best to stick to the script the most because he knows that if he doesn't, the true nature of that Unfortunate Incident will not only be revealed to his companions but to everyone else watching. Meanwhile Ezekiel, who doesn't know that him being involved in this mission is some sort of um penance for his involvement in that Unfortunate Incident, tries his hardest to sabotage he show by being the most outspoken when pointing out a lot of hypocrisies within religious institutions and in ph society in general (he refuses to tell the other two that they are in a show though because if that happens, he knows the Narrators, Joshua especially will um get very heavily scolded by the producers and despite everything, he still cares for Joshua a lot). I'd say that these two are the ones that push the plot the most - one wants to push the show accordingly to plan in order to please the audience and the producers and in order to not let his and Ezekiel's secret go out while the other wants to push the show off-script in retaliation against the producers (and yes the Unfortunate Incident involved the time travelling thingy which is why he really wants to sabotage this). In fact, these two have 2 duets that are basically them trying to convince the other to go along with their plan ("Interpretasyon" which means Interpretation and "Sikreto" which means secret). This dynamic involves um yea trying to convince the other to switch sides gjxjd and um reconciliation, responsibility out of guilt, and what it means to forgive oneself (forgiveness is a common theme here) and to start to heal from trauma and to not deny the existence of said trauma any longer.

NOW ORIGINALLY I REALLY DID NOT INTEND THE JOSHUA AND EZEKIEL DYNAMIC TO BE GAY BUUTT WHEN I WAS THINKING OF THE LYRICS, I REALIZED THAT OUT OF CONTEXT, IT SOUNDED VERY GAY SO UM HERE'S AN EXCERPT OF SIKRETO (still not finished writing the thingy)

Joshua: (singing to Ezekiel) (this is also the first time Joshua sings a Filipino solo so this is him breaking the script for the first time) (also um yea the translations aren't direct translations cause I wanted to make them rhyme fnxnf) (So to those who know filipino i am terribly sorry cause yup this isnt an accurate translation fjfjd)

Ang natitirang alaala ay aking binura (I have scrubbed away all the memories that may have still remained)

‘di ko na sila kilala (I don't know them anymore)

Kinalimutan na kita (I have forgotten about your name)

Ngunit ang bigat ng pagsisisi ang aking dinadala (But the weight of regret, I carry all the same)

Ang sakit sa balikat, lagi kong dinarama (I constantly feel the sting of my shoulders' pain)

Pero masasabi ko pa rin na sinusubukan kong itama (But at least I can say, I tried to right-)

Ang aking mga pagkakamali (all that's wrong)

Ikaw, saan ka pumunta? (What about you? Where in the world have you gone?)

Tumakbo ka lang at iniwan mo ako (You ran, you just ran, and left me behind)

Sa pagbubuhat ng kasalanan at sikreto (In carrying the sins and secrets, and you paid me no mind)

Pero pinapanatili ko paring malinis ang ating munting kwento (But I stillade sure I kept our little story clean)

Patuloy na sinisigurong ‘di nila malalaman ang totoo (I kept on making sure the truth would never be seen)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam na natin ang kwentong kailangang itago (We know the story that we need to hide)

Itong munting sikreto ay kailangan burahin (This little secret that has to be erased)

Ating pagkakamali, patuloy na bubuhatin (We will have to always carry, our sins and our mistakes)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam natin ang katotohanan ng nakaraan (We very well know the truth of the past)

Ito'y nakabakas sa isipan, ‘di natin malilimutan (We'll never forget what will remain ingrained in our minds)

At sa Diyos na lang natin mahahanap ang kapatawaran (And from only God could we find forgiveness for what we left behind)

Habang buhay bubuhatin ng konsensiya (Forever will our consciences bear the weight and carry

ang ating pagkakasala, ang kwento't sikreto nating dalawa (our sins kept in secrecy, the story of you and me)

Pero ngayon, ‘di ko alam paano pero nalaman nila (But now, I don't know how, but somehow they know)

At ngayon, dinedemanda na nila ang penitensya (And now, penitence is what they demand)

Kaya ngayon, naghihingi ako ng pasensiya (So now, patience and forgiveness is what I ask)

Sa iyo at sa kanila (From you and from them)

Sa aking gagawin at mga nagawa (for what I'll do and I've done)

Baka nga (Perhaps)

Tama nga mga sinabi mo (What you've said all this time is right)

Na ‘di tayo ang tanging may sala rito (That we aren't the ones only at fault here)

Pero ‘di ko matatakasan ang aking naging tungkulin (But I can't really escape my little role here, because)

Sana ‘di mo nakalimutan: lahat sila nakatingin (God I hope you haven't forgotten: they're all looking at us)

Lagi silang nakatingin (Always looking at us)

Kahit ano man ang iyong gawin (No matter what we do)

Tayo'y mananatili sa entablado (On the stage we shall stay)

At lahat sila nakatingi- (And the stares still won't go awa-) (He then realizes that he's on stage and Should Not Be Having A Breakdown In Front Of The Audience Because Duh and Because That's Not Part Of The Script)

SO UM YEA IN RETROSPECT SOME OF THOSE LYRICS COULD ALSO REFER TO SOME SECRET NOT-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP THAT THE AUDIENCE DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT YET (because the Secret doesn't get revealed til much later) WHEN IN ACTUALITY IT'S ABOUT THE TRUTH BEHIND WHAT HAPPENED 3 YEARS PRIOR TO THE EVENTS IN THE SHIW AND NOT GONNA LIE,,, THEM BEING IN A NOT-SO-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP KINDA ALSO WORKS SO I'M CONSIDERING MAKING THEM HAVE SOME ROMANTIC HISTORY TOO JDHXBSJF

Oki that's all for today hdhdh there are two more characters (narrators 4 and 5) but i'm still working on them and i kinda wanna make the both of them not cis cause WHY NOT also i have been typing this for like 6 hours now and i'm tired and hungry so tjjxjs anyways if you read to the end, I'm sending you carbonara-

#I HAVE TYPED THIS #FOR 6 HOURS #I AM SO FUCKING TIRED GJXJSJJD #ARI I AM SO SO SORRY I WAS NOT EXPECTING FOR THIS WHOLE THING TO BE THIS LONG #but i guess thats what happens when you work on a thingy for 4 years fjsjf #FBZJSJJF ARI MY DUDE UM GOODLUCK AAAAAAA #God i hope you make it to the end gjxjdjf #um feel free to like reblog this in the tags if you wanna express ur thoughts there! i'd love to know what you think about this clusterfuck #the same goes for anyone woo feel free to rb if u wanna!!#SO ANYWAYS I AM TIRED AND WILL NOW EAT CARBONARA #once again ari i am so sorry jfhxhf #ari! (wattblr tag rambler yay!)#ask me stuff #izzy's rambles and shit #religion tw #ask to tag

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wifeofbath · 6 years

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On Tuesday, @lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen and I went to see Anastasia, and it was fantastic! Thoughts below the cut. Spoiler alert, I loved it.

For some reason, I was in awe of the curtain screen. Not sure why, but it was so pretty with the flowers and drifting snow.

Tiny Anastasia is so pretty in the Macy’s pink dress. She was so adorable dancing with Nicholas. The transition between tiny Anastasia and teenage Anastasia was really well done.

The Revolution part of “Last Dance of the Romanovs” was gorgeous and chilling.

Before the start of the show, Lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen already started creeping on Gleb in the program. The moment he stepped on stage, it was love at first sight.

There was a quiet world-weariness about Stephen’s Dmitry that I liked and found interesting.

Lila’s Anya is an extremely feisty, stubborn young woman, not as fragile at the beginning like Christy’s. She is really determined during her first meeting with Dmitry and Vlad.

Although the cut was pretty seamless, I did miss Anya’s breakdown in “Learn to Do it”. I understand why they cut it, since it doesn’t really fit with Lila’s version of Anya, but I still like that little moment when Anya just goes, “Enough!”

There’s a really great father-daughter dynamic between Ed’s Vlad and Anya that I love.

Jason has a lovely voice. Lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen and I loved every moment he was on stage.

Anya was not having any of Gleb’s tea.

They cut the “Your eyes. A man could look right into them.” line, which made my parents a little confused about how exactly Gleb recognized Anya.

I’m not entirely sure, but I think the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, aka the church built on the site where Alexander II was assassinated is in the background during “My Petersburg”.

The projected ghosts during “Once upon a December” are gorgeous. Really, that whole sequence is gorgeous. Tiny Anastasia is present, like she is in the Macy’s parade version. I suppose one could do a lengthy analysis on how Tiny Anastasia and Teenage Anastasia represent different parts of Anya’s psyche and memories.

I had told Lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen that Rasputin’s motif had been reworked and shows up a couple of different times, but “Stay, I Pray You” still took her by surprise. During the intermission, she said, “They turned the villain song into the longing for Mother Russia song! I kept expecting Rasputin to descend from the ceiling, curse them all, and disappear!” She still thought the song was lovely.

Speaking of Rasputin’s motif, I bet another lengthy analysis could also be done on its use during “Last Dance of the Romanovs” and “Stay, I Pray You.”

I’m always interested in listening to the audience reactions to Vlad’s line that Count Ipolitov is “a dead man on both counts.” It got a laugh from our audience, and I kept thinking, “You won’t be laughing in ten minutes.”

There’s a little moment between Count Ipolitov and Anya where he tips his hat to her just before they board the train.

“We’ll Go from There” is not my favorite song in the production, but it’s a fun, lighthearted moment (BEFORE DEATH), and the way they did the train was really innovative.

The official Gleb speaks to before “Still” looks an awfully lot like Trotsky. Apparently, his name is Gorlinsky, but he’s pretty much Trotsky by another name. Which doesn’t bode well for Gleb’s future.

Jason did “Still” beautifully, although a baby started crying (why would you bring a baby?) and I felt terrible because Lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen and I started laughing a bit.

That baby was not a Gleb fan. We nicknamed it Justice Baby.

Speaking of babies, there was also a little girl, probably not older than seven. Now I know Anastasia is based on a animated film, and that’s what was probably on her mother’s mind, but I know I would not want to explain to my seven-year old exactly what happened during “The Last Dance of the Romanovs” or right after “We’ll Go from There”.

Although I like “Crossing a Bridge,” the “Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart” reprise does the job too.

There is something Carol Burnett-esque about Tari’s Lily. The audience loved her, and she was my dad’s favorite character.

“The Countess and the Common Man” was so hilariously bawdy, and our audience loved every second of it.

Anya and Dmitry also come close to kissing after Dmitry compliments her, although Anya pulls away first.

No surprise but the blue dress is GORGEOUS

Also no surprise that the “Quartet at the Ballet” was amazing. During the part where Gleb sings during von Rothbart’s dance, Lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen died and went to creeper heaven.

There were gasps when Dmitry stomped on the Dowager Empress’s train

Lots of applause after Anya and the Dowager Empress embrace

Once more, no surprise that the red dress is GORGEOUS

I really liked how Gleb gestured to the gilded throne when he said “The Romanovs were given everything”

I would have liked it if they had kept the full “Do it and I will be with my parents and my brother and sisters in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again” line, and I’m not sure why they cut it. I mean, it’s not necessary, but it’s a good historical detail

Once again, Justice Baby started crying during “Still/The Neva Flows Reprise”. Justice Baby really didn’t like Gleb.

In the moments before Gleb dropped the gun, he seemed to have a mental break. You could see how much he wanted to fulfill his orders, but he could not bring himself to do it.

There is a very sad tenderness in the way Anya comforts Gleb after he collapses.

Cheers and applause when Anya kissed Dmitry

In the tour, the Dowager Empress and Gleb stand alone on either side of the stage while Dmitry and Anya are in the middle. Again, I thought this was well done, and it felt like they were directly addressing the audience

During the final “Once Upon a December”, the projection changes to a wintery landscape, which was gorgeous and wistful

Just before the curtain went down, Lila did the floss and was so cute!

I want to go again!

#anastasia #anastasia musical #anastasia broadway #anastasia tour #anastasia the musical

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the-record-newspaper · 5 years

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The murder of Rhonda Hinson

Left is Rhonda Hinson in elementary school and right is a photo taken during her senior year at East Burke High School. Photos courtesy of the Hinson family.

(Editor’s Note: The 1980’s was a violent decade for women in Wilkes and surrounding counties. At least four young women were murdered between 1981and 1987—their cases remain unresolved: Rhonda Hinson of Burke County — who has relatives in Wilkes County, Angela Hamby of Wilkes, who disappeared in 1982, Sherry Hart of Ashe County, and Candy Roberson of Wilkes. This series, “The Killing of Rhonda Hinson” is the second in a trilogy of murder cases that will be detailed in The Record over the ensuing weeks and months — cold cases of crimes perpetrated against women over 30-years ago, whose families await justice and closure.)

By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter for The Record

I closed my eyes for one second, and you were gone. Now, my heart aches, my eyes leak, my soul mourns, and my family is broken. Only a moment that changed forever….You can be sure you will live in my heart forever…I miss the me I was when you were here… –A Facebook meme posted by Judy Hinson

Bobby Hinson remembers his daughter’s prediction.

“Rhonda told me that it was going to snow on Christmas Day,” he said. “We were always betting on when it was going to snow, and she told me that it would be on Christmas that year.”

Already there had been some moderate, late December snowfall in the Burke County Foothills; so, there was more than just a slight chance that Christmas, 1981, would be white.

“…And sure enough—as we were walking out of the house to go to church that morning, large white snowflakes started falling,” Bobby recalled, as he gazed into the middle distance.

It was Friday, December 25th. As dads and moms and children gathered around Christmas trees bedecked with garland and twinkling lights to open treasure troves of colorful gifts, one family of three—undergirded by relatives and friends—quietly buried Rhonda Hinson.

Rhonda Annette Hinson was born 12 days before Christmas in 1962—Thursday, December 13th—the first child and only daughter of Judy and Bobby Hinson. “It was 2 p.m.,” Mother Judy remembered. Their baby girl was healthy; however, the final days of pregnancy, leading up to the birth, were not without issues.

“We were living in Great Falls, S.C., at the time—in Chester County. But before Rhonda was born, my doctor discovered that she was going to be a breech birth with her legs tucked against her little chest. So, he sent me to the hospital in Rock Hill, in York County, because they had more experience with breech births.”

Fortuitously, the attending physician succeeded in turning her infant daughter, and Judy was able to give birth, without resorting to a “C-Section” delivery.

“Rhonda did undergo therapy for the first year to make sure her legs would grow in the correct position—the sessions were successful,” recounted Ms. Hinson. “I once told my daughter about the problem with her legs being tucked against her chest. I don’t think that she ever forgot that story, which could account for her excelling in sports so she could use those legs. I mean, she played tennis, basketball, ran track, danced, twirled baton, and always marched in Charlotte’s Thanksgiving Carousel Parade.”

Judy freely admitted that she was a typical, doting first-time mother who held her newborn all the time. “I didn’t realize that it was OK to lay her down and to let her cry a little. So, I kept her wrapped you and held her all day long.”

Once while cuddling her neonate, the young mother drifted off to sleep. “I was worn out and fell asleep. And when I woke up, I was in a panic—Rhonda was not in my arms. I looked down at my feet; there she lay--sleeping away on the floor. She must have rolled off my lap onto the floor, but was so wrapped up that the tumble didn’t hurt her.”

When their daughter was 3-months old, the Hinsons decided to move northward to North Carolina where Judy’s brother was living. Bobby took a job at Waldensian Bakeries in the hamlet of Valdese—one that he would hold for the duration of his working-life. The young family of three moved into a gray block house located on a backstreet, adjacent to both the elementary and high schools, in the tiny town of Drexel, about three miles away from the bakery at which Mr. Hinson was employed.

Eventually, they moved into Valdese proper and welcomed an addition to the family. Robert Hinson Jr., “Robbie,” was born on Saturday, Jan. 27, 1968 at Valdese General Hospital—the Hinsons’ last child and only son. Across time, a close bond developed between a baby brother and his older sister.

When Rhonda was 6 years old, she was enrolled in Valdese Elementary School; the Hinsons lived nearby. Initially, the school experience did not seem to agree with the budding academician.

“About everyday at lunchtime, I would see Rhonda walking from the school toward the house. And every time, she came in complaining of a ‘terrible headache,’” Judy laughingly recalled. “The school day was much too long for her, I guess; she could only tolerate about a half-day.”

Circa 1972, the Hinson Family moved a few miles east of Valdese toward the village of Rutherford College. “We lived in a trailer park there for a while—but not for very long.” Judy recounted. An incident occurred that left an indelible impact upon their 13-year-old daughter and could conceivably account for her lifelong obsession with safety.

“Bobby had to be at work at 2 o’clock in the morning. Not long after he left, we were in bed when I heard someone yelling and beating on the door. I got Rhonda and Robbie out of their beds and brought them into my bedroom just before someone knocked the door open and walked inside. We went out the back door to a neighbor’s house and called the police.”

When law enforcement arrived, they discovered a drunken intruder who was visiting from out-of-town and thought that he was breaking into the trailer at which he was staying. Though no harm came to the mother and her children, neither Rhonda nor Robbie wanted to return to the trailer.

“They were frightened and didn’t feel at all safe anymore,” Ms. Hinson averred. “So, we had to locate another place to live—and fast….We took about the first place that we could find available at the time—a house on Hillcrest Street. which we live in now.”

Even before she started school, Rhonda Hinson demonstrated a penchant for being in the limelight. When she was 5 years of age, she was among the cast of the 1968 inaugural production of the Burke County outdoor drama, From This Day Forward—a history play, written by Fred Cranford, chronicling the story of the arrival of the Waldensians who settled in the Valdese area.

(Ironically, this writer was among the original cast of that production staged in August, 1968. I recall that a number of children of sundry ages were involved in the play and rehearsed dance sequences regularly in the Valdese High School gymnasium, adjacent to the outdoor stage. Little did I realize at the time that among the children, with whom I frequently interacted, was 5-year-old Rhonda Hinson.)

“She was in the outdoor play for three-years. Her daddy went with her to every rehearsal and every performance. And throughout elementary school she also danced and twirled baton—she was always doing something. Rhonda loved being in the limelight,” her mother recollected.

While attending Valdese Junior High School, Rhonda was a solid, consistent student who continued to excel in extra-curricular activities, among which were basketball and the junior varsity band. She played the clarinet and continued to do so when she matriculated at East Burke High School in 1978.

Ask anyone who knew her and the story is the same—everyone liked Rhonda Hinson.

“Rhonda was well-liked by everyone,” remembered Sarah McBrayer, who lived across the street from the Hinsons and attended East Burke High School with their daughter. “She made friends easily; she didn’t carry grudges; she smiled and laughed and was always in an upbeat mood.”

“There was absolutely no way that she had any enemies--anywhere,” said her closest lifelong friend, Jill Turner-Mull. “We moved here from South Carolina in 1973—I was in the fourth grade and Rhonda Hinson was my best friend even back then—in fact we became instant best friends, and she loved for me to brush her hair…The two of us might as well been sisters.”

Jill’s mother, Revonda Turner agreed, “They were together all the time. Rhonda spent a lot of time at our house just as Jill spent time at the Hinsons’.”

Jackie Griffin Berry, who shared homeroom and several classes with Rhonda, remarked, “…she was quiet…had lots of friends, and liked to play sports.”

In fact, she excelled in sports, earning accolades in basketball, track, tennis—even varsity band. Jill Turner-Mull recalled her best friend’s sports prowess. “While I cheered all three years in Junior High School—grades seven through nine—Rhonda played basketball. However, during our sophomore year in High School, we did run track together. Though Rhonda was noted for her [general] athletic ability, tennis was her passion.”

Like most teenage girls, Rhonda dated during her formative high school years. “She dated a couple guys, one of whom was Don Gilbert,” Mother Judy recalled. He was such a nice young man; I liked him a lot. I remember being angry with Rhonda when she stopped dating him.”

Jill Turner-Mull recalled Gilbert as well. “Yes, Don was a very nice guy, and he really liked Rhonda. But I don’t remember her dating anyone steady.”

But that was about to change.

During her junior year, a quiet, rather studious young athlete named Greg McDowell caught Rhonda’s eye, and a romantic relationship began to develop between them.

Rhonda Hinson had slightly longer than 24-months to live.

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newidaho · 5 years

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13. Christmas in Hell, pt. 1

Don’t have the time/patience/desire to read with your eyes? Don’t have eyes? Well, have your friend read you this: You can check out the audiobook for free on Apple, Google, Stitcher, or Spotify. Subscribe for new episodes every Wednesday!

25 December 2054 /// 0550h

For 54 years I have been present on the annual celebration of the birth of Our First Lord and Savior. For near on 20 years I have been in charge of illuminating Virtual Life with the Word. Every 25th of December has left me feeling full of Christ’s love.

Until Now.

This dream. And, upon waking, the memory of my daughters’ transgressions. Oh, Lord, it weighs heavy on my soul. And I feel that to lift this weight, I must retread in the steps of Abraham as he raised the knife to Isaac. If this be not so, Lord, please send your form of angel as you did on that fateful day at the beginning of our human journey. And praise be to you now and until the 0800h service.

Papa Fred Garland put down his pen. He had tried to go over his sermon after writing down his dream, but the events of the previous day kept him from focusing. He felt there was more to write. And he felt there was more to do.

Papa G had not talked to Gamma after the Christmas Eve service. His wife had told him that Gamma had simply said she was leaving and removed her mask. Papa G did not hold it against this wife for not pursuing his daughter. She was focused on the word of God—and that was something that Frederick could never begrudge.

Garland told himself the decision not to speak with his daughter was because he didn’t have the words. When he was honest with himself, he understood that this also carried the additional benefit of adding pressure to the situation. Gamma knew that consequences were coming—the longer they were put off, the more anxious she would become from the anticipation.

What Garland had failed to realize at the time was that this anticipation was a blade that cut both ways. He knew he had to provide consequences. Up until now, however, he did not know what these consequences would be. After his time of prayer, he finally did.

Garland walked out of his office and down the hall to Gamma’s bedroom. She would be receiving a 0600h wake-up call. Garland rapped on the door with authority and waited for her answer. The door creaked open almost immediately.

‘Good morning, father. Merry Christmas.’ The anticipation was obvious. Gamma’s voice was meek and directed at her feet.

‘Good morning, Gamma. Were you already awake?’

‘I always wake up early on Christmas, father.’

‘Good. Well, before we begin our Christmas traditions, I would like you to accompany me to the Prayer Room.’

‘Yes, father. Should I change?’

‘Your pajamas are fine. Come. We only have so much time before the eight o’clock service.’

Gamma followed her father down the stairs and across the lounging quarters to the tall, circular prayer room. Upon entering, she noticed her father had been carrying one Lucid Mask. He handed this out to her.

Gamma took the mask from her father’s hands. It was apparent that her father did not intend to wear a mask himself. He did, however, have on AR Lenses—unusual for him at this time of morning. She guessed it must be part of her punishment.

‘Before you put this mask on,’ her father said, ‘let me preface what is about to happen. I feel the best way to preface this includes a dialogue. I noticed you left the Christmas Eve service early. Is this correct?’

‘Yes, father.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know if I’m right, yet, so don’t be too mad at me. But you were being so mean last night, I thought that, if God does exist, maybe you aren’t really speaking for God. So I didn’t want to listen to you speak for Him.’ She had spent all night thinking about how she would respond to the conflict she had inspired—it was evident in the dry delivery of her words.

Papa Garland resisted the urge to touch his daughter. Had he said something of this sort to his parents, he would most certainly have been slapped. Instead he moved on from the dialogue portion of the preface, and into his more happily anticipated monologue:

‘Well, Gamma, the realities of God are unfortunately not for you to decide. If we allowed everyone on Earth to decide the rules of their own God, we would slip deeper into the chaos that has been spreading like a virus since the beginning of this millennium.’

‘But father, isn’t Bible debate encouraged at FuTech?’

‘I was not finished talking, Gamma.

‘You are correct. Discussion of the Bible is encouraged. But no one doubts the word of the church’s authorities in such a way that even approaches the disrespect you have shown for me. It is not in my place to judge those who walk out of our church as you have done, but my heart cries for the judgement that will be placed on them when their final day comes.

‘But you, my daughter, are not simply a member of the congregation, free to come and go as you please. No, Gamma, God has entrusted me to raise you in the church, and to make sure that you understand all the lessons the Bible can teach you. He has blessed you with the opportunity to be present for each of the Virtual Services held in the most popular Virtual Church in the nation. And to learn and ask questions directly to his faithful disciple who runs the service. And when you voluntarily leave his service, as you did last night, this transgression speaks volumes greater than those of whom are lost without the beacon you have been born among.

‘Those who so readily give up the influence of God in this way are destined for a long journey into a dark space. It is out of love for you that I tell you this, for I would never wish upon anyone the journey you have shown interest in taking. Now, as my daughter, it is with both sadness and duty that I must show you the road that your actions are leading you down.

‘Please put on your mask.’ There was a moment of hesitation, but as strong-willed as she was for her age, Gamma was only 13. She knew she had to follow her father’s orders. She put her mask on.

‘Now,’ her father said. ‘Relax for a moment.’ Papa Garland tapped twice on the side of his Lenses to pull up his home menu. After navigating through the FuTech menu, typing in passwords at checkpoints along the way, swiping past confidential documents and information, he finally made his way to a menu with a dark red box. He waved his hand over the box and it opened to reveal one application in the shape of a 16-bit ball of fire—the type you might see in an old Super Mario game around 70 years ago.

From Garland’s point of view, the interface for the application was rather sparse. The fireball expanded, and inside was one menu option—“Connect”.

Before selecting this option, Papa Garland spoke once more to his daughter. ‘Gamma, what you are about to experience is a simulation. It is to be used rarely, if at all, by FuTech reverends. Very few know if its existence, and after this experience, I ask that you tell no one, lest the secret get out.

‘What you are about to experience is a collaborative effort between the priests and engineers of FuTech. It is the nearest simulation that we could come up with, through our divinity and study, of Hell. This, Gamma, is what you can look forward to should you continue to walk down the road you are on. It pains me to use this punishment on you, but I ask that you remember this is for your own good. I ask that when you come out the other side, you attempt to be grateful.’

With this, Papa Garland placed his hand over the “Connect” option on the application. After searching for nearby connections, a ball with Gamma’s image on it appeared floating in the air—her mask had been noted for possible connection. Papa Garland placed his hand over the sphere, inserted the requested password, and placed his hands firmly on either side of Gamma’s mask.

It wasn’t long before Gamma started to move about, attempting to free herself of the simulation. It was to be expected—a natural human reaction to the Hell that had been designed by FuTech engineers with the help of Divine Inspiration.

When her father connected her to the simulation, Gamma’s home menu had faded to black. After a couple seconds, the landscape around her faded in. She stood on a plain made of dark red metal. The sun was the only natural body in sight. All around her were pieces of machinery, ranging from simple to complex, from torturous to productive. The sun beat down on the metal below her bare feet. Though she couldn’t literally feel it, she still experienced anxiety that her feet would burn if she stood on the ground much longer.

Of course, Gamma found she couldn’t move. Her father was holding her to the spot. Even if he wasn’t, she knew the simulation would not be one to let her explore. After she got her bearings, Gamma heard a terrifying screeching noise and the machinery began to start up.

It would have been impossible to see everything going on. It was an environment of overstimulating horror. Certain machines resembled meat grinders, with human shapes passing between the gears as they ground down the flesh and bone. Other machines simply scraped metal upon metal in between their gruesome deeds, contributing to the head-splitting symphony.

Gamma’s first reaction was to turn her head away, but she immediately remembered that her father’s hands held her head in place. Even had she been able to turn, she understood she wouldn’t be able to see anything but what was going on around her. Instead, she tried closing her eyes. After one second, bright and painful flashes of light spazzed in front of her closed eyelids and the cacophony grew louder. Unable to put up with this alternative, Gamma was forced keep her eyes open.

After five minutes that felt like an hour of watching the machines execute their gruesome tasks, a line of adolescent boys and girls walked in front of Gamma’s field of vision. She was about 20 feet from them. The line stretched out to either side of her periphery, containing about 30 humans in all.

Gamma felt her head turned slightly to the right. Approaching this side of the line was a large, hunched, grayish-black humanoid creature about twice the size of the humans in the line. It wore no clothes, though his body had no features of male or female genitalia. It was also completely hairless, and its facial features were unreadable under the shadow cast by its brow. He retrieved what looked like a large serrated knife from somewhere behind him. He fluidly moved the saw so that its teeth met the front of the first victim’s head. In two harsh motions, the creature pressed and dragged his knife across the boy’s head back and forth, completely removing the top of his skull.

The sound of the saw cutting into flesh and the subsequent guttural screams from the boy were too much for Gamma. She closed her eyes again and the sounds became ever more aggressive and unwieldy. As she opened her eyes, she could see that the creature in front of her had not moved on—in fact, he appeared to have been staring at her with unfeeling eyes the whole time.

Upon seeing her eyes open, the creature kneaded his fingers around the sides of the rim of the hole it had cut in the boys skull as though the edge of the top of his head was a pie crust. The creature worked its way around the top of the boy’s head until the skin and bone resembled a funnel being fed into the top of his head.

Gamma watched the creature go about a similar process for each adolescent in line. It didn’t use the same instrument every time. Sometimes it used an ice pick to make a hole and cracked the skull apart with its hands; sometimes it bludgeoned the top of the head with a metal hammer; only once did to use its mouth to bite the top of the head off of one of its victims.

When each human in line had been properly disfigured, with a funnel of skin and bone being fed into his or her head, a gang of half-sized demons the same make as their master dragged a piece of heavy machinery behind the line of humans, the contraption making a nearly unbearable scraping sound as it was dragged across the red metal ground.

The machine stood about as tall as the original demon, with three downward-facing nozzles protruding from its front. As the machine was dragged behind the first three humans, Gamma could see that the nozzles were spaced perfectly apart so as to hover directly above the heads of the victims.

The original demon walked up to the machine and emphatically turned a wheel on the back of it. A mixture of what looked like concrete was then dispensed into each victim’s open head as their screams increased and their faces morphed from a horror that Gamma couldn’t possibly understand. As soon as the first of them keeled over from the heaviness of the concrete, the original demon grabbed him by the legs and effortlessly swung him into the air and smashed his head on the ground into a shattered, bloody mess.

The beast followed the same process for each human being. By the time the rest of the line realized what was going on, some naively attempted to preserve their life by standing, but none could withstand the concrete. One slightly stronger boy managed to remain upright until lines of wet concrete began dripping down the front of his face, his legs quivering under him. Eventually, he buckled and met the same fate as his peers.

After finishing with the line of humans, the creature predictably approached Gamma herself. As he approached her, the screen went blank, the noise stopped, and she once again felt free to move her head around.

‘You can remove your mask,’ her father said behind her.

She removed the mask and looked around her. For some reason, the room felt different than when she had entered.

‘What time is it?’ Gamma asked her father.

‘Thirty past the hour of six,’ her father replied.

Gamma nodded. She wasn’t surprised it had only been thirty minutes, though it felt to her like the sun could have risen and set on Christmas day by the time she had opened her eyes.

‘I am preaching in an hour and a half. Do you plan to stay the service?’

Gamma nodded.

‘I expect to see you there.’

‘…’

‘I don’t feel happy for having had to put you through this. I prayed, requesting God send me a sign that you didn’t need this treatment. It would appear that it was his will that you go through this experience. I know you have a strong soul, Gamma. You will get past these feelings of horror in time. But you will never forget. You will never forget where you may end up should you slip up.’

‘…’

‘Do you understand? Do you understand that I love you enough to put you through this? It is because I don’t want you to go through the real thing, Gamma. Many parents do not love their children this much.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

Papa Garland took a long breath and nodded. ‘I must prepare for the eight o’clock service, Gamma. I hope to see you there. I hope you learn something.’

‘Yes.’

‘And Gamma?’

‘…’

‘You will not be sitting next to this boy, will you?’

‘No, Papa.’

When the time came for the virtual service, Gamma found herself almost sickened by the thought of putting the mask on again. But she didn’t sit with Charlie. In fact, she didn’t even see him in the first service. The same was true for the 1000h service and the 1200h service. She made sure to take a comprehensive look around her, disguising her curiosity as as a sneeze or a stretch. But she was sure she hadn’t seen him at all. As far as Gamma could tell, Charlie Johnson hadn’t been to any of the Christmas services.

#New Idaho #Ben Vizy #New Novel #Writing #Writing Community #Novelist #Novel Writing #2054 #Augmented Reality #Futurism #Hell #Visions of Hell #Bad Girl #Punishment

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