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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

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Built for Love Part 2 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warning: angstttttt

A/n: Enjoy! This hasn't been edited thoroughly so apologies in advance for typos!

Word Count: 3.5k

Charlotte’s chest heaved lightly as she finished her run, her music blaring loudly in her headphones. She savored the ache in her muscles, the painful stitch in her side that had been there since mile 3, the hard concrete slamming into her feet with every step, the brutal cold wind hitting her face.

She almost did not want to stop when she rounded the corner to her temporary apartment building. However, she had exceeded her usual distance so she knew she needed to. However, she was shocked at what she found waiting at her door.

Her eyes grew wide as she saw Michael standing outside her apartment building, coffee and a brown bag gripped in his gloved hands.

“M-Michael?” She called, catching his attention. Her breaths and words were labored as she jogged over to him. “W-hat… are you… doing here?”

“Damn girl, you training to be a boxer too or trying to outrun something? Looks like you’re about to drop dead.”

She laughed, coughing lightly. “I f-feel like it. Ran six miles.”

His eyes bugged out of his head. “That’s insane.”

She shrugged and laughed lightly, “You might be right about that… but you didn’t come all the way over here to judge me for my running habits. What’s up?”

He nodded. “Ah. right. I come bearing your favorites… your favorite bacon, egg and cheese bagel from down the street and a chai with one shot of espresso and an extra pump of chai.” He raised the bag and coffee in his hands with his perfect award-winning boyish grin that made her want to go weak in the knees.

“Well done, Mr. Jordan.” She could not hide the hint of surprise in her voice as she took the warm drink out of the holder and took a sip, warmth spreading through her body. “It is quite literally perfect. How’d you figure out my chai order?”

He laughed. “You have one like every single morning.”

“Touche. J-just didn't realize you noticed,” she smiled. She gestured toward the door. “Wanna get out of the cold?”

At his nods, she led him inside and up the stairs to her apartment. She opened the door and allowed him inside.

“Let me just throw on a different top? This one is drenched. Give me a sec.” She started to take off the thick sweatshirt she had on and ran back to her room, leaving Michael alone in her kitchen.

He glanced around, his first time in her apartment. The decor was warm, soft pinks and golds accented her neutral standard furniture throughout her living space. He spied a couple family photos littered across the space, he imagined to make the space feel more like home. She clearly took time to make the temporary space feel like a home. He took note of two bouquets of calla lilies on her counter and living room table.

“Alright, sorry about that. I sweat like crazy when I run… it is pretty gross,” she muttered as she walked over to her counter and grabbed a few plates for them.

“I didn’t know you were a runner.”

“Yea, I run a couple miles every morning.”

“Oh nice. You do marathons too?”

She shook her head and chuckled, “Nope. Just to decompress. When I moved out to LA, my thera- friend recommended I get a hobby. My brother’s the marathon runner so he introduced me to his favorite running trails. Got me out of bed and out of my own head honestly.”

She walked over to her fridge. With her back turned, she could not see the way Michael’s eyes filled with lust as he took in her perfect ass and figure in her leggings and crop top.

There were moments were he wondered if the young woman in front of him had magical powers. Her looks and talents were other worldly in his view, no woman even looked remotely attractive to him since she walked into that room for their chemistry test. However, it was not just lust. He craved her, craved everything about her, noticed everything about her. There was not a subject in his mind that did not somehow drift back to her. She consumed his very being in such a way that it could only be witchcraft… or something else he had never felt before. If this was love, part of him feared it, feared how much power she already held in his life and did not even know it.

“Nice… I gotta get a couple miles in tomorrow, keep up the training. Why don’t we run together?”

“I dunno… not sure you’ll be able to keep up,” she teased, winking at him as she handed him a water bottle.

“Ha. ha. ha. We’ll see whose talking shit tomorrow.”

She settled next to him, unwrapping her breakfast sandwich and taking a bite. She did a small happy dance as the flavors hit her taste buds.

“I think I’m gonna miss this the most when it’s all said and done,” she mused as they ate. “And not that I’m not insanely appreciative of the breakfast and latte delivery, what made you stop by?”

She studied his profile for a moment. This was the first time they spent real alone time together since the kiss over the weekend. She had avoided him like the plague unless they were actively working on a scene. She could tell he often wanted to speak to her. He was the type to wear his emotions plainly on his face. However, she chose to remain oblivious and used any excuse to avoid being alone with him. She knew it was childish… and unfair. But she did not know what to say to him.

She knew her heart’s desires. She wanted him in every possible way she could have him. But her head, the voice of reason that still questioned her gut and intuition, threw water and doubt on the raging flames of her desires. And her body, trapped between her present and constant yearnings for him and the traumas of the past, rode the fence like a devil’s advocate. One minute, her body craved him like a dying dehydrated woman craves water. But the next, she repelled him as all of her past shit haunted her like a menacing ghost. Each part of her played an intense and exhausting game of tug-a-war and none of them were winning.

And she hated it. But she knew she did not have anything better to give him.

“You caught me. I was hoping your favorite breakfast would be a sort of olive branch? I didn’t want to bring it up on set cause you know, we’re working and I don’t want to make it uncomfortable for you. But I know you’ve been avoiding me and I just want to clear the air so we can be good again.”

Charlotte nervously chuckled, “Nah I haven’t.” He raised an eyebrow causing her to bow her head. “Alright… maybe I have. I-I just feel r-really embarrassed by the other night. C-coming on to you like that. Got caught up in the character I guess. I mean,” she cleared her throat, eyeing him nervously. “W-we are just friends, right?”

Michael studied her for a moment, his eyes taking in the nervous energy that immediately settled around the young woman. Her whole body seemed to fidget as she waited for his response, she chewed her lip, her fingers pulled at a loose thread in her top, and her leg jiggled up and down against her bar stool. He could physically see the tension building throughout her shoulders.

He wanted to push, let her know that he did not want her apologizes or embarrassment. He wanted to know her true feelings for him and why she kept him at bay. However, something stopped him. While he was not completely certain of her feelings, he was certain of one thing: her walls and guard were up. And there was no hope of forcing them down. She would have to let them down and let him in when she was ready. And for him, she was more than worth the wait.

His head fell a bit as he opted for a response that was not his true feelings but satisfied what she needed to hear. “No apologies, seriously. We wouldn’t be the first folks to you know… get caught up in the moment. All good seriously. I j-just wanted to say the same. We cool?”

Charlotte nodded, an odd wave of relief and sadness crashing over her. This was what she wanted right? What she pushed for? So why did it still feel so… shitty?

“Y-yea we’re good. How could I have beef with someone who brings me a perfect chai and my favorite breakfast??” She nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Aight. I gotta go, gotta get to set in half an hour. Just wanted to drop off breakfast and check in. Talk later?”

She nodded, standing to walk him to her door. They shared a brief hug before he crossed over the threshold of her apartment.

“Yep, talk later. Thanks again for the breakfast delivery.”

He nodded, offering her a smile. “Enjoy your day off, Els.”

She waved at him and watched his back retreat for a moment before she closed her door. She slumped against it and glanced at her half eaten sandwich and drink, another example of his attentiveness and kindness. This only made her like him even more.

“This man… gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” she muttered to herself before returning to finish her breakfast.

***

3 weeks later

“You good?”

Michael’s voice filled Charlotte’s ears as she flopped down next to him on a comfy couch in the corner. Her cup was filled with a margarita, she was not ashamed to admit she had lost count of the amount by this point. But she did not care. She survived her first movie and they were enjoying the official wrap party for the film. She deserved a night of liquor and good times.

“Y-yea, yea,” she leaned over and yelled into his ear. “My feet are just killing me in these boots.” She gestured to the very fashionable but not functional deep purple velvet thigh highs she was supporting with a black mini dress.

Michael’s eyes trailed the smooth chestnut skin on display between the hem of her dress and the top of her boots. He was nearly rendered speechless when she walked through the door.

“No pain, no gain, right?”

She nodded and raised her glass, clinking against his. She slumped back into the seat, their bodies inching closer and closer together as they sat. Neither of them seemed to even notice, they just drifted together as if that was the only logical choice, the only thing their bodies could naturally do.

Charlotte was happy filming was over but it meant she would not have a reason to spend time with Michael each day. And she could not deny that that knowledge made her a bit sad. Despite the kiss snafu, they had grown extremely close over the last three months. They had started running together, the friendly competition forcing them both to train harder; they hung out when they had evenings off, watching movies in Michael's apartment; and they hung out nonstop on set. He was a regular staple in her life and all of that would be gone. She knew she needed distance to put these feelings behind her but she was not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Charlotte’s shoulders swayed gently to the music, her eyes watching many in the cast and crew who were out on the dance floor.

Michael watched her before taking a last swig from his drink and standing up.

“One last dance before we put Bianca and Adonis to rest?” He held out his hand. She knew she should say no. This was merely courting bad decisions.

She knew he could never see her the way she saw him. He deserved someone far better than her. However, she could not deny the part of her that wanted to be close to him physically and emotionally, certainly closer than they were at this moment. A decision that would likely lead her to ruin, she was sure, but the alcohol coursing through her system pushed the hesitations from her mind. For the first time in a long time, Charlotte chose to give in to her true desires, give in to her heart. And her heart wanted to be in his arms, even if it was fleeting.

She stood up and slid her hand into his, a smirk on her face as she took in the surprised look on his. It was clear he was expecting her to say no or at least hesitate. But she did neither.

She discarded her drink on their table and followed him out to the crowd, the song switching to a slower selection. That did nothing to stop either of them, Michael turning her around so her back was to him. His hands gripped her hips as she slow grinned into him, both of them allowing the music to guide their movements.

Charlotte pushed all her inhibitions and fears out of her mind as she enjoyed the feeling of his body on hers. And enjoyed it for the first time as herself - not a fictional woman in love his character. This was as intimate and close as she had been with any man in years. She enjoyed the way his hand gripped her skin, the way the other trailed up and down the exposed skin of her thigh sensually, the feeling of his broad chest against her back.

For both of them, this was perfection. Neither one of them cared or noticed the cast and crew ogling their intimate moment. The rest of the world seemed to disappear and fade, it was just the two of them in their own little world.

Their dancing only stopped as Michael used his grip to turn her around so she faced him. His hand went to the small of her back as he held her flush against his chest. Charlotte almost wanted to look away as she took in the intensity in his eyes. She could see the lust, his desires for her clear as day. But they were mixed with something else, something she could not quite place.

Desire and yearning passed between them as they stared at each other in the dim club. Their bodies left no space for God or any other deity to fit between them. Michael’s hand cupped her face, holding her gaze to his, as he lowered his lips to hers.

“Michael…” she whimpered. Whether it was intended to urge him to pause or beckon him forward, he did not know and quite frankly, neither did she.

However, when their lips met, she had no intention of telling him to stop. It was somehow both everything and nothing like she remembered. Still perfect, still gentle but there was a more intense hunger to it. As if three months of feelings buried and avoided were finally surfacing for them both and they were trying to cram all of it into one kiss. As if this one kiss could say everything that needed to be said.

She savored every millisecond that his lips were on hers, that his hands were on her body, and that she felt the intimacy she had been deprived of for far too many years.

When they finally broke apart, Charlotte felt flustered and out of breath. She stared at him for a moment before reality set in for her and all those hesitations came rushing back.

His thumb caressed her cheek as he whispered in her ear. “It’s not the characters for me, Els. It never was… I want you.”

Her body stilled as she took in his words. His words sent her inebriated and flustered mind into an immediate tailspin, spinning out of control as all those hesitations she pushed aside resurfaced. And though, all she wanted to say was “I want you too,” the words were lodged in her throat. Her own doubts not allowing them to surface. She had fallen into the sea of him but she did not feel worthy of such gentle waters. And every thought circulating through her mind seemed to confirm that feeling.

He’s lying, a harsh voice entered her brain. He can’t mean that. You’re just a cheap score for him, another notch in his belt.

He’ll toss you aside like trash the moment he’s done with you.

As if anyone would actually want you.

Charlotte pushed against his chest, creating space between the two of them as she rapidly shook her head.

“U-Um… I a-am… I’m so sorry. I gotta go.” Her words were rushed and flustered as she ran out of the crowded club, weaving and pushing her way through the crowd to get out.

Her hand pressed into her chest as it started to tighten as if she was about to have a panic attack. Her breathing was labored as she finally found a random door and pushed her way outside, the cold Philly air hitting her.

She leaned against the wall of a dim alley, her chest heaving as she tried to calm herself down. She was so wrapped up in her own head that she did not hear the door open until he started calling her name.

“Els! Els!”

She immediately tried to walk away from him until she heard him again.

“CHARLOTTE! Stop walkin’!” He demanded, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned around, an exasperated and pained look painted on her face. “What??”

“You gotta level with me, Charlotte. Tell me what’s wrong? Is it somethin’ I did o-or said?? Because you can’t experience what we just did,” he gestured back toward the party, which was still in full swing, “And tell me that there is nothing between us! O-or that is just our characters or some shit. Be honest with me. What's goin' on?”

Charlotte paced as he spoke, her hand running through her faux locs as she tried to calm her mind enough to speak to him. However, she knew she could not give him the answers he sought, not in this drunken and emotional state.

“I-I just can’t do this, Michael.” Her hand waved between the two of them. “So p-please j-just drop it!”

“W-why can’t you do it?? What I feel when I’m with you,” he offered, closing the distance between them and causing Charlotte to back up against the wall. “Is unlike anything else I’ve experienced in my entire life. Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same. Say it and I’ll walk away, I swear. And I’ll never bring it up again. But you need to say it, Charlotte. You need to tell me you don't want me.”

Charlotte’s brown eyes met his and she tried, tried to force the words she so desperately needed to say from her soul but she could not. Because those words would be a lie. She needed him like her body needed air to breath. But she also could not bring herself to say that either. Both roads led her to destinations her soul was simply not ready for, lead her to potential heartbreak she could not handle again. And so her vocal cords just seemed to refuse to work.

“I-I…” she struggled. “S-stop doing this to me,” she whispered. “Please, I-I can’t take it.”

He scoffed, his frustration with the small woman before him getting the better of him.

“Doing what? Loving you? W-wanting to be with you??”

Her eyes grew wide as the word ‘love’ hit her like a train.

“That! Y-You don’t l-love me! You c-can’t! A-and you shouldn’t. I-I’m doing you a favor.” she nodded to herself as if she were convincing herself and him. “I d-don’t d-deserve you.” Her voice grew small as all of his words came back to haunt her. It did not feel as though two years had passed. It felt as if he was standing right beside her still whispering the same things in her ear.

She could hear his voice taunting her, calling her worthless, telling her that no one could ever love someone like her and that they would discard her the moment they realized what she truly was. His refrains reminding her that she did not deserve love rang loudly in her ears, drowning out any and everything Michael said to her.

A flash of pain crossed Michael’s face as he took in her words. How could she think that? Or say that about herself? He could visibly see her folding in on herself, her guards raising higher and higher than he could hope to climb in one night.

“Els… look at me, please,”she heard the desperation in his voice, this was the most vulnerable she had ever heard him. However, her ironclad resolve would not allow her to lift her eyes from the ground. She had to do this, for both of their sakes.

“Y-You d-deserve better t-than me. Y-You don’t want me,” she whispered, her voice sounding lifeless and robotic as if she were regurgitating words someone else supplied to her, repeating a script she barely believed herself but had to sell anyway.

Michael felt his heart splinter a bit. He supposed it truly was love because no woman had broken his heart quite like this either. His head fell as an air of defeat settled around him.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, Els,” he whispered to her before taking several steps back from her.

She sniffled and hastily wiped a stray tear that started to fall down her face.

“I-I’m protecting mine. No one else is going to,” she whispered back. “Goodbye, M-Michael,” her voice broke ever so slightly as she choked back a sob. She tore herself away from the wall and rushed away from him and a dream she knew could never be a reality.

Before she knew it, she found herself at her front door. The beautiful bouquet of flowers she found at her doorstep could not even raise her spirits or stop the tears that were starting to fall. She picked them up off the floor and fumbled with her key until she was inside her apartment.

She leaned against the counter, her hands trembling as she picked up the card nestled between a large bouquet of white roses and white calla lilies, her favorite flower.

A tear fell as she immediately guessed who they were likely from.

“Fucking perfect timing,” she muttered as she pulled the card out of its small envelope and read it silently.

Els,

Thank you for being my better half for the last three months. Whether it’s loving a flawed boxer or wine and movie nights on the couch - on screen and off, you’re the best partner I could ever have. First movie down… I know there are many more together to go.

Love,

Bakari

She read it a couple more times, her heart slowly shattering piece by piece as a wave of sobs hit her. She leaned into her counter as she sobbed, her head falling into her hands.

As she sobbed, she could not help but replay her last conversation and kiss with Michael over and over again. A small voice kept telling her she did the right thing. However, all she felt as she finally drifted off to sleep was regret.

Cold and lonely regret.

Part 3

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @msniaimani @hi888888sworld @lynaye1993

A/N: ummm… don't hate me!! lol

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shinymoonbird · 2 years

Photo

Photos by Guy Gonyea - Skandashram where Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi lived from 1916-1922, and where his mother attained Samadhi.

🕉️ 🔱 🕉️

The Paramount Importance of Self Attention, by Sri Sadhu Om, As recorded by Michael James

Part One - Mountain Path: April-June 2012 - Excerpt

Note of 10th December 1977

Sadhu Om: In verse 273 of Guru Vācaka Kovai (*) Bhagavan says that the self-awareness (satbōdha or being-consciousness) that exists and shines in all, as all, is the guru.

To be qualified for the fourth standard [in the school of bhakti] one must have wholehearted love for guru, and one must try to put his teachings into practice, at least insofar as one understands them. Unless one sincerely wants and tries to follow the guru’s teachings, one does not have the true guru-bhakti required to be in the fourth standard (**).

For example, although Devaraja Mudaliar said he had no brain for self-enquiry, Bhagavan was everything to him, so he followed the path of self-surrender as he understood it. One may be bottom of the class, but unquestioning faith in the guru can overcome all obstacles in a moment. Even if we do not succeed now in our attempts to abide as self, we should at least sincerely want and try to abide thus.

Progress can never be judged. Bhagavan knows exactly the right medicine required to mature each one of us, so he knows which vāsana (propensity) to release at each moment. Someone who is getting 5% today may get 100% tomorrow, whereas someone else who is getting 90% today may not seem to improve for years. A person may be always caught up in worldly affairs, but if he is always feeling, ‘This is all useless nonsense; when can I be quiet?” he may be doing better than someone who is always sitting in meditation.

A lady devotee who lived nearby complained to Bhagavan that she had not been able to come to his hall for fifteen days because she had to attend to relatives who had come to stay. He replied, ‘That is good. It is better that you were at home with your relatives and that your mind was here, than if you had been here and your mind had been thinking of them’.

Ramakrishna told the following story: A sādhu led a pure life and wanted to help a pious prostitute, so he counted the number of people who visited her house by placing stones in a pile, and after many years he told her that the pile of stones represented her sins, so in repentance she locked her door and starved to death. He also passed away, but she was taken to heaven because she was repentant, whereas he was taken to hell because his mind was always dwelling on her sins.

He also told a similar story of two friends, one of whom listened to the Bhāgavatam while the other went to a brothel. The first regretted his decision and envied his friend, who he thought was enjoying himself in the brothel, while the second felt disgusted with himself and would have preferred to be listening to the holy book. The first went to hell and the second went to heaven.

The moral of these stories is that our outward actions are not as important as our inner thoughts and attitude. Likewise, intense longing for self-abidance is essential, even if we fail in our efforts to abide as self.

In order to be free, we only need to experience our being as it really is for just one moment. When an aspirant is sufficiently matured through the school of bhakti, the guru will give the final tap, and thus he will be promoted to the fifth standard, which is liberation (mōkṣa). That may happen at any moment.

The love to abide as self is the real sign of guru-bhakti.

🕉️ 🔱 🕉️

(*) Guru Vachaka Kovai - The Garland of Guru’s Sayings, by Sri Muruganar

(**) Compare the final clause of the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉār? (Who am I?): ‘…nevertheless, it is necessary to proceed [behave or act] unfailingly according to the path that guru has shown’.

🕉️ 🔱 🕉️

#Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi #the paramount importance of self-attention #Sadhu Om #Michael James #gvk v.273 #guru #non-duality #advaita #self-consciousness #sat-chit #pure consciousness 'I am'#bhakti #devotion

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lifeofresulullah · 1 year

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Treaty of Hudaybiyah and Calling the Great States of the World to Islam

The Battle of Muta: Part 2

Accounting Starts

It was the 8th month of the Migration, the month of Jumadal-Ula.

They were in the battlefield of Muta.

The conceited and orderly Christian Byzantine army with more than one hundred thousand soldiers was facing the Islamic army, which seemingly had fewer soldiers and weapons and which was commanded by Zayd. The former had everything but one thing; the latter had almost nothing but belief: Belief in God, the owner of the religion, and reliance on His help; belief made them act with the feeling of sacrificing everything.

When judging by appearance, the situation was very strange. A great amount of soldiers was facing a very little amount of soldiers that could not be compared. As a matter of fact, when Heraklius, the Byzantine Emperor, saw a handful of people against him, he found it meaningless to give so much importance to it and could not help laughing loudly. Then, he reprimanded Shurahbil for putting him to so much trouble unnecessarily.

However, the Kaiser did not know the difference between two things: the appearance and the reality. In appearance, the Byzantine army had a dazzling magnificence but there was a weak and dim spirit under this dazzling magnificence. In appearance, the Islamic army was very few in number and weak in terms of weapons but there was magnificence, spirit, meaning, excitement and love under this littleness. In history, triumphs and victories did not originate from magnificent appearances but from lofty belief, great spirit and magnificent meaning.

Both parties saw each other and laid their eyes on each other; it was meaningless to wait any longer.

Zayd b. Haritha, the commander of the Islamic army, held the white standard given to him by the Messenger of God. The fight started very fast like lightning. All of a sudden, the ground was full of blood. The sounds of takbir, clashing swords, neighing horses, the screams of the wounded soldiers and cries intermingled.

Martyrdom of Zayd

Zayd, the great commander, who was fighting the enemy very closely and bravely, received some spear blows from the Byzantines and his body was riddled. His blood sprang around. This great person, who lost his strength to stand, fell down with the spiritual pleasure and peace of sacrificing himself for his sacred aim and became a martyr.

The standard was waiting for its bearer. When Jafar saw that Zayd was martyred, he dashed forward like an arrow and held the sacred white standard as the Messenger of God had said. He ignored the crowd of enemy and their atrocious aggression, attacking their ranks bravely holding the standard. He went on swinging his sword though he knew that he would have the same honorable fate as Zayd. He did not mind the crowd of enemy or their strength. As a brave person, he was fulfilling his duty. Besides, bravery necessitated fulfilling the assigned duty fully. What would he lose if he became a martyr? The World? No problem! There was eternal life. Is it something unimportant to attain enviable ranks in the eternal life by sacrificing the worldly life?

Jafar is Martyred, too

Jafar, the commander, was attacking the enemy army with the same feeling, excitement and sacred aim as the other mujahids. The Islamic army was as brave as an eagle and the enemy army was as cowardly as a crow. No matter what the result would be, the Islamic army would be beneficial. If they won, they would be victorious both materially and spiritually; if they lost and were martyred, they would attain a spiritual victory and have an honorable epopee. Therefore, they had no fear, panic, worry or hesitation.

The eyes of both the friends and the enemy were on the new commander. Those timid and hesitant eyes were watching the heroic attack of this commander and his killing and wounding anybody that faced him in an amazed and astonished way.

However, the destined end of Jafar was approaching. A malicious sword cut his right hand off his wrist. Thereupon, he held the standard with his left hand. However, after a while, his left hand was cut off, too. If you can, imagine the situation and watch admiringly the effort and patriotism that this great hero showed in the way of elevating the word of God. This unique hero held the sacred standard, which represented the honor of the army and which was given to him by the Messenger of God, with his arms, whose hands had been cut off. He could no longer resist the attack of the enemy. His only aim at that time was to surrender the standard to somebody without letting it fall to the ground. O my Lord! What a magnificent belief, a sacred goal, a lofty effort and patriotism. Jafar was personally experiencing the incident that we cannot imagine.

This magnificent situation did not continue very long. The sword blows of the enemy martyred Jafar just like Zayd. When the mujahids looked at the body of this hero, they saw more than ninety wounds caused by spears, arrows and swords.

Abdullah b. Rawaha Receives the Standard

It was Abdullah b. Rawaha’s turn to become the commander.

He proceeded toward the enemy on his horse carrying the white standard. The evil-commanding soul wanted to deceive him through delusions and hesitation. Abdullah was between two enemies. One of them was the Byzantine army and the other was his own soul. However, he was struggling against both enemies as it was necessary. While he was attacking the enemy, he was addressing his soul as follows:

“O my soul! I swore that I was going to make you surrender to me. You will either accept it willingly or I will force you to do it. Muslims have gathered and are crying. Some of them are crying saying, ‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun’ (To God we belong and to Him is our return). As I understand it, you do not like Paradise very much. You have not attained peace for years. O my soul! If you are not killed now, will you not ever be killed? The time of death has come even if you do not want it. If you do what those two people did, that is, if you prefer martyrdom, you will do the best thing. If you become late, you will be sorry.”

Hazrat Abdullah, who defeated his soul, was fighting bravely. Meanwhile, one of his fingers which was cut started to swing. This great man, whose heart was pounding with the love of God and His Messenger, dismounted from his horse, stepped on the finger that was swinging and broke it off; then, he mounted his horse and rushed toward the enemy ranks like a lion. The belief, prosperity and courage that filled his heart eliminated all of the pains, aches and agonies in his body.

After fighting heroically, Abdullah returned and dismounted from his horse. He had not eaten anything for three days. Meanwhile, somebody gave him a piece of bone with some meat on it. It was going to be the first morsel he was going to eat for three days. Unfortunately, no sooner had he bitten a small piece than he heard a sudden noise from the part where Muslims were. Abdullah threw away the bone he had and said to himself, “You are still busy with filling your stomach!”; he drew his sword and continued fighting.

As a result of this fight, Abdullah attained the high rank he desired.

The Islamic Army Scatters

The Islamic army, three of whose commanders were martyred, and which was left leaderless, scattered. The mujahids hesitated whether to go on fighting or to withdraw. Meanwhile, a few mujahids were martyred.

However, the lofty standard of the Messenger of God did not fall to the ground. When Abdullah b. Rawaha was martyred, Abu’l-Yasar Ka’b b. Umayr took the standard and gave it to Thabit b. Aqram. As soon as Thabit took the standard, he rushed to the front of the army, planted the standard on the ground and called the Muslims to come together. Holding the standard in his hand,Thabit b. Aqram shouted to the mujahids, “O mujahids! Choose someone among you as the commander and gather around him.”

The mujahids said, “We have chosen you as the commander; we are pleased with you.”

However, Thabit wanted somebody else to be the commander. It was Khalid b. Walid, who was a new Muslim and who had joined the army to show his loyalty and sincerity to Islam. Thabit said, “I cannot do it” and called out to Khalid, “O Abu Sulayman! Come and take this standard.”

However, Khalid, who was a respectful and emotional hero, wanted Thabit, who was a respectable old man, to hold the standard. He said,

“I cannot take the standard from you. You deserve it more than me. You are older than me and you took part in the Battle of Badr.”

Yes, what Khalid said was true but, at that moment, he did not want the honor of being old or the honor of having been taken part in a battle. The situation necessitated a person who could save the army of Islam from this dangerous situation. Thabit b. Aqram, who was aware of this fact, repeated his call to Khalid. “Take this standard of Messenger of God! I took it in order to give it to you. You are better than me at fighting and war.”

Then, without letting Khalid answer, he turned to Muslims and said, “Do you agree unanimously to choose Khalid as the commander?”

The mujahids, who could not keep their eyes off this heroic Companion, said, “Yes!” in unison. Thereupon, Khalid took the standard of the Messenger of God and kissed it with respect; then, he mounted his horse and turned toward the enemy. From then on, Khalid was the commander.

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hennebergmoon90 · 2 years

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#樹林借款

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 2 years

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"Here is the fundamental difference between the man of faith and the man of unbelief. The unbeliever is "of the world" and judges everything by worldly standards, views life from the standpoint of time and sense, and weighs everything in the balances of his own carnal making.

But the man of faith brings in God, looks at everything from His standpoint, estimates values by spiritual standards, and views life in the light of eternity. Doing this, he receives whatever comes as from the hand of God.

Doing this, his heart is calm in the midst of the storm. Doing this, he rejoices in hope of the glory of God." - Arthur Pink, “The Sovereignty of God”

#Arthur W. Pink #The Sovereignty of God (excerpt)#difference #man of faith #unbelievers #worldly #heavenward focus

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covenlegacy · 2 years

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Good things about taehyung

Activity, the ability to stand up for yourself and for others. Confidence. Wisdom, acceptance of yourself and others. Ability to listen and hear others. Detachment from worldly problems. Not attached to money, the brilliance of "human standards." He knows how to live and judge everything according to his principles, without being subject to the opinion of society. He always goes his own way, he is brave, resolute, always stands up for his ideas, people, principles.

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Ranking : Jim Jarmusch (1953 - present)

When you get someone adept at the art of filmmaking that can resonate at the highest vibrations when creating, that is a blessing in itself, but when you get a jack of all trades, everyman who is deeply observant and unabashedly humanist, and happens to make films to boot, then you start reaching the realms of Jim Jarmusch. As a Midwestern kid who studied at New York’s famed Columbia University before transitioning to a span in Paris, Jarmusch has the unique gift of deeply appreciating lofty art on the same level as outsider, underground art, and by understanding the context that connects all of them, his appreciation of time is enhanced by association. In a world that has become obsessed with taking in information with no intention of retention at a breakneck speed, it is refreshing to know that Jim Jarmusch has stood his ground in terms of deliberate pacing and tone.

Most of my Jarmusch familiarity came from the first half of his catalog, and it’d been years since I watched his work, so rather than rank what I remembered while trying to fit first watches in, I decided that the time was right to revisit the entire catalog. Doing so not only gave me a broader understanding of his overall vision, but it made me realize that a director with 25 years in the game is still capable of making drastic style shifts. Without further ado, here is my preferential ranking of the 13 Jim Jarmusch films available as of March 2021.

13. Coffee and Cigarettes (2003) This isn’t a bad film, but Coffee and Cigarettes definitely reeks of a narrative-less venture. The best parts of Coffee and Cigarettes come in attempts at placing what was shot explicitly for the film, versus what was shot during the previous fifteen or so years that Jim Jarmusch directed other feature films. Taken as a collection of independent vignettes, the film is rich in memorable moments, but for a director so adept at unifying themes with incredible nuance, specifically within the obtuse hurdles presented by an anthology film, Coffee and Cigarettes feels much more like assorted pieces than a fractured whole. More so than an original idea, the movie feels like a deep cut that true fans will appreciate, casual fans can easily reference, and Jarmusch-laymen can use as an entry into deeper conversations. If nothing else, see Coffee and Cigarettes for the incredibly entertaining scene where Cate Blanchett acts circles around Cate Blanchett, but Cate Blanchett still does her thing.

12. Broken Flowers (2005) Bill Murray has been popular longer than I’ve been alive, but somewhere around the beginning of the 21st century, it seemed like the entire world caught Bill Murray fever in a major way. After a couple of iconic roles in films by Wes Anderson and Spike Jonze, his star was riding new and unfathomable highs, and that was right when Jim Jarmusch teased collaboration via Coffee and Cigarettes before diving headlong into it with Broken Flowers. Of all the Jim Jarmusch films, this one still feels the least like his style, at least in terms of purity. Most of its magic comes from surrounding Bill Murray with Jeffrey Wright as a human conscience, as well as a parade of memorable actresses the likes of Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange, TIlda Swinton, Chloë Sevigny and more. The film runs high on charm, and for any man staring at the Autumn of his years, the feelings of romantic regrets are likely relatable on some level. Interestingly, this project feels like one of the most accessible in the Jarmusch canon, perhaps because of its efficient production presentation. If there were ever a Jim Jarmusch date movie, it’s Broken Flowers.

11. Permanent Vacation (1980) Upon initial viewing, Permanent Vacation possesses many of the earmarks of a student film, such as limited locations, long passages with minimal dialogue, symbolic monologues in place of standard narrative dialogue, and isolated characters within the context of an implied bigger world. The strengths that the film possesses, however, are elements that became staples in Jim Jarmusch films : a protagonist either absent of motivation or driven from within, cross-cultural fascination and iconography and the aforementioned patient approach to narrative are some of the key ingredients in the Jarmusch recipe. As a unique voice in a burgeoning New York collective of filmmakers, it makes total sense that his debut would be both an ode to New York City and an ode to living life like an outsider in the mecca of culture. This film probably wouldn’t be the best place to start a curious party to the Jim Jarmusch canon, but it would certainly be one to circle back to if their interest is piqued… I would recommend this one to fans of Richard Linklater’s early work for sure.

10. Stranger Than Paradise (1984) Stranger Than Paradise marks the first of many black and white commercial releases from Jim Jarmusch. As a second film, it has everything you’d want to see from a director finding his place in the industry : the cinematography has evolved and incorporated more movement, Jarmusch is starting to let his personality shine through via musical choices, and the stories are evolving into more relatable narratives rather than ruminations on isolation (while simultaneously becoming much funnier). Jarmusch still isn’t afraid to let his films breathe, however, which leaves his distinct style present even among the areas of growth. The incorporation of a strong female lead presence (thanks to Eszter Balint’s brilliant performance) showed that Jarmusch had a full understanding when it came to presenting stories for everyone on the screen, rather than limiting his voice to male characters. The casting of John Lurie and Richard Edson opposite one another is kinetic both visually and in terms of performance, as each of their versions of uptight laid-backness compliment one another.

9. Night on Earth (1991) Of the anthology films that Jim Jarmusch has created, Night on Earth is possibly my favorite. More so than any of the others, it captures the intriguing aspects of human nature by juxtaposing them directly against the very human tendency to judge books by their covers. With the vast majority of the film taking place in a handful of taxi cabs, we are left in the hands of the actors and actresses in the hopes that their interactions, chemistry and dialogues can keep us captivated, and the cast presented in the film completely stand up to the challenge in their pairings. Jarmusch also presents movie audiences with a way to show different worldly locations without having to lean on the cinematic and iconic shorthand that we are used to, such as the Hollywood sign, Times Square, the Eiffel Tower and so on… instead, we are shown places that locals would inhabit in all of their rundown and lived in glory, which in turn, amplifies the grounded realness of the interactions, as if we are looking at a fictional blueprint for what would later become the popular HBO series Taxicab Confessions. This film sits in-between two of Jim Jarmusch’s most iconic releases, so it is easy to see how this one could be easily lost in the shuffle, but it is certainly not a film to be missed, especially for those who would consider themselves Jarmusch fans.

8. Paterson (2016) Jim Jarmusch brings a humble sense of humanity to all of his films, but Paterson stands out for its nuance, subtlety and confidence in its patience. Much like Forrest Gump or a less abstract Charlie Kaufman film, Paterson dwells in an interesting realm of an unknowingly wise protagonist tethered to the center of tornado-like emotions and experiences from all they encounter. Jarmusch manages to take this framework, dial down the absurdity to a sneaky degree, and ramp up the grounded elements to the point where a viewer cannot help but graft pieces of themselves onto the events presented. As a musician with a day job, I can also relate to Paterson’s displays of beauty found in redundancy, and the peace that comes with understanding intentions for creative expression, even if others see it in a different light that you do. While not the grandest of Jim Jarmusch gestures, it is without a doubt one of the most sincere and heartfelt of his selections.

7. Mystery Train (1989) Mystery Train marks the first definitive signs of Jim Jarmusch knowing, understanding and utilizing the tools he’d come to favor in a manner that seemingly resonated what he pictured in his head. Memphis as a setting provides the juxtaposition of beauty and urban decay captured in Permanent Vacation; placing our audience on a journey with two foreign tourists brings the worldly view introduced in Stranger Than Paradise; and, most importantly, all of the coolness and humor that thrived in Down by Law returns triumphantly. Jarmusch also puts anthology filmmaking on the table, which is important for two reasons… first and foremost, it would become a style he would go on to thrive in, returning to it immediately with Night on Earth and once more with Coffee and Cigarrettes… secondly, as for Mystery Train directly, it allowed Jarmusch to surround Masatoshi Nagase and Youki Kudoh (burgeoning stars Western audiences were unfamiliar with) and Nicoletta Braschi, and surround them with his talented friends like Steve Buscemi, Cinqué Lee, Rick Aviles, Vondie Curtis-Hall and Tom Noonan, as well as legendary musicians like Tom Waits, Joe Strummer, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and Rufus Thomas. Between these high profile castings, the stylish cinematography and the heartfelt quirkiness of the leads, Mystery Train feels like the film where everything came together in the best ways possible.

6. Down by Law (1986) To my knowledge, Down by Law would be considered the breakout success of the Jim Jarmusch library. John Lurie returned to the fold to provide another performance infused with coolness, but this time around, up and coming Italian star Roberto Benigni and iconic recording artist turned actor Tom Waits share lead duties, forming an unlikely trio with monstrously dynamic on-screen chemistry. Jarmusch not only switched things up for himself by setting the film in New Orleans rather than centering it around New York, but he turned the jailbreak genre on its ear by focusing on the escapees rather than the escape itself. The conflict between Jack and Zack is seeded with their individual problems with women (which both include emasculating each man by chastising them for not using domestic violence), as well as each of them ending up framed prior to imprisonment, which makes Roberto the de facto peacemaker despite his huge language barrier. Down by Law marks the first time that edginess found its way into a Jim Jarmusch film, and while it never became his forte, it wasn’t the last time that element was key to a Jarmusch film.

5. The Limits of Control (2009) When reflecting on The Limits of Control, the word patience comes to mind : the patience of accepting repetition… the patience of a trilingual film with minimal dialogue… the patience of a film that shows much more than it tells. As a take on noir, the Jim Jarmusch variety brings to mind films like Le Samourai, where actions speak infinitely louder than words, choices come with a definitive set of consequences, and we as viewers are allowed to consider what we are presented with in real time, just like our protagonist. The coolness levels are also pushed to maximum levels in this film, but then, what’s a Jim Jarmusch film without a generous dose of cool in it? While it is never rightly stated, I like to pretend that The Limits of Control takes place in the same universe as Ghost Dog, with Raymond having evolved into The Lone Man using the tools left behind by Ghost Dog. Maybe it’s a bit of embellishment on my end, but it makes an already great film have that little extra touch of pizazz needed to stand out from the pack.

4. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999) While Jim Jarmusch isn’t necessarily a household name, he is relatively well known, and for many familiar with his work, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai served as the introductory film for them. The casting of Forest Whitaker in the lead role continued the trend of higher profile names joining the Jarmusch fold, and stylistically, the mixture of Ghost Dog’s hitman and samurai worlds with that of the mafia film (which was about to see a popularity resurgence in light of the recent premier of The Sopranos) was alive, kinetic, and rich with varied personalities. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai also stood as an early example of RZA’s talents in the realm of scoring films, which would later go on to be a key element of Kill Bill: Vol. 1. For a movie with a more traditional approach, perhaps even the most accessible approach of all Jarmusch films, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is anything but conventional, and it’s the sense of pride it wears in its non-conventionality that makes it the cult classic it became.

3. The Dead Don't Die (2019) Not since Dead Man has Jim Jarmusch picked such a distinct genre for a film of his, or decided to include such a long list of high profile names in character roles. While the sense of doom that usually comes with zombie movies is present, Jarmusch sticks to his toolkit by focusing solidly on the human element during the early portions of the film where many people would already have zombies doing the narrative and visual heavy lifting, and in turn, the audience finds themselves drawn deeper and deeper into the story well before the undead arrive. Of all the Jarmusch films, The Dead Don’t Die has the rare designation of being the only one that seems to comment on film itself, be it references to iconic characters from other properties, ruminations on film as a format, or even discussions centered around film fandom. While most films tend to stay around from outright explanations of whatever the root cause of the zombies are, The Dead Don’t Die uses the vacuum as a brief opportunity to make a comment on polar fracking and other climate/environment-altering processes. Even the zombies get the most on-screen humanity received since the days of George Romero’s Dead series, a refreshing change of pace that has been often ignored in recent films centered around the undead. Films like this one prove that Jim Jarmusch has the capacity to make films about most anything, and the further he strays from his supposed comfort zone, the seemingly better the films get.

2. Only Lovers Left Alive (2013) For a man so dedicated to being aware of the passage of time, a man with a deep appreciation for nostalgic cool of all eras, and a man with a rich and layered appreciation for art and music from across the board, it makes total sense that Only Lovers Left Alive would be a celebration of all these aspects framed as an eternal love with a deep cross-section between the original lovers and the tales of vampires. The vampiric leads allow Jarmusch the perfect vehicle to seamlessly tie stellar creativity from any point in time with a singular line, and the deep implications of our protagonists' names suggest a subtextual lore that one could likely build a cinematic universe around. For a venture with aspirations this lofty, the casting must fit the call, and the main four of Tilda Swinton, Tom Hiddleston, John Hurt and Jeffrey Wright build a solid foundational square for all characters to navigate deep emotions freely. If you’re looking for Twilight and Interview with the Vampire fare, you’ll probably long for more, but if films like Let the Right One In are more your speed, then Only Lovers Left Alive will likely be a revelation.

1. Dead Man (1995) While Jim Jarmusch never lost his auteur sensibilities, Dead Man marked his initial foray into the world of larger scale traditional productions through the vehicle of the period piece. Jarmusch films were not unfamiliar with showing us a broader view of the world we know, but transposing his trademark style into the world of the Western marked a bold (but ultimately rewarding) turn. With Neil Young serving as his Ennio Morricone, Jarmusch dusted off his black and white filmmaking equipment and seemingly told the production design team to blend all of the best parts of Spaghetti Western and German Expressionism. Johnny Depp, the film’s star, was riding the wave of success afforded from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, Benny & Joon and Ed Wood, and Dead Man carried that momentum right along. As for his Western universe, the list of names that Jarmusch chose to populate it with is where his style stood out : Crispin Glover, John Hurt, Robert Mitchum, Iggy Pop, Gibby Haines, Gabrielle Byrne, Billy Bob Thornton, Alfred Molina and more drive home Depp’s “fish out of water” characterization convincingly. Based on its period-piece designation, Dead Man signalled a drastic leap in style utilization for Jarmusch, a creative rarified air that he would return to for several future productions.

#ChiefDoomsday #doomonfilm #JimJarmusch #PermanentVacation #StrangerThanParadise #DownByLaw #MysteryTrain #NightOnEarth #DeadMan #GhostDogTheWayOfTheSamurai #CoffeeAndCigarettes #BrokenFlowers #TheLimitsOfControl #OnlyLoversLeftAlive #Paterson #TheDeadDon'tDie

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astropsychee · 5 years

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Positive & Negative Traits of the Signs

**Use Sun, Moon & Mars Sign**

Aries [cons] too quick to anger, impatient, aggressive, irresponsible, reckless & hasty [pros] willing to take the initiative needed to get shit done, very driven, will fight to the death for those they care about, exudes confidence that spreads to those around them

Taurus [cons] lazy, lethargic, stubborn, very fixed in their ways/ ideas, bullheaded af, resistant to anything outside their comfort zone [pros] patience is their virtue, very observant of their surroundings, has the ultimate eye for beauty, sensual, gives off a chill aura that can make people around them feel comfortable and at ease (this can apply to Taurus risings as well)

Gemini [cons] all over the place, difficulty settling down (mentally, emotionally, physically), flighty, talks way too much [pros] cultured, very knowledgeable, can have a conversation with anyone about anything, friendly, always down to have fun and try new things

Cancer [cons] passive aggressive, emotionally manipulative, plays victim like no other, martyr complex, crybaby [pros] intuitive when it comes to others feelings, always there to help those they love, incredibly caring, sentimental, the mom friend

Leo [cons] selfish in their motives, self centered, can dish it but they can't take it, egos the size of the sun (see what I did there), dramatic, crybabys [pros] creative, literal queens/ kings, loveable, funny af, similar to Aries; will fight for and be the ultimate cheerleaders for their loved ones, balls of sunshine

Virgo [cons] overly critical of themselves and others, can be sneaky, unusually high standards, they overthink everything [pros] amazing problem solving skills, willing to lend a helping hand to anyone in need, intelligence beyond measure, great organizers, they give the best advice

Libra [cons] passive, will say or do what people want them to in order to avoid conflict, lowkey fake af , can be too friendly, superficial [pros] diplomatic and charming, objective, unbiased, non judgmental, able to keep the peace, like Taurus; their eye for beauty is impeccable

Scorpio [cons] sneaky af, aggressively passive aggressive, emotionally manipulative, holds grudges, vengeful, overly paranoid; especially of peoples motives [pros] human lie detectors, unwavering loyalty to their loved ones, intuitive and spiritual, very in touch with their own power, sensual and sexual beings

Sagittarius [cons] like their Gemini counterpart; can be very flighty and have difficulty settling down, quick to go off, overly blunt, careless in regards to the feelings of others, reckless, self righteous [pros] free spirited, open minded, non judgmental, as quick as they are to go off; they are also quick to let go, great sense of humor, doesn't hold grudges, adventurer with a heart of gold

Capricorn [cons] cold, physically and/or emotionally distant, can be manipulative in order to get what they want, like Sagittarius; has a self righteous streak, superiority complex [pros] rational, able to be objective when needed, great problem solvers, good leaders, pillar of strength and support for those they care about, good with managing money

Aquarius [cons] apathetic, detached and cold (mentally, emotionally), smug, sanctimonious, superiority complex, egos just as big as their Leo counterparts [pros] like Libra; very diplomatic and charming, non conforming, independent, knowledagble about various atypical topics, worldly, revolutionaries, judge people by their character rather than their backgrounds or appearance

Pisces [cons] like the other water signs; emotionally manipulative, head in the clouds, passive aggressive, savior and victim complex, unwilling to admit guilt or accept responsibility for their wrong doings [pros] creative souls, spiritually and emotionally intuitive, kind, caring, artistic, the sweetest little muffins, will defend and protect their loved ones no matter the circumstances, non judgmental

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pamphletstoinspire · 3 years

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The Foundation of the True World

Not a word in Scripture suggests that the apostles ever expected a resurrection in any form; on the contrary, they rejected the thought, and were overwhelmed by the actual fact (which might also be explained away “psychologically,” though it is not very probable that an idea so foreign to Jewish religious thought as an incarnate god who retained his corporality in the heavenly state would be Galilean fishermen’s subconscious reaction to depression!). And finally, it should be pointed out that a mere religious experience might be sustained briefly over a period of spiritual torpor, or even for a few dramatic years, but that it never could become the world factor which Christianity today is – factor indissolubly bound to the Resurrection of Christ.

St. Paul – who did not go through the others’ crisis – words it: “For if the dead do not rise, neither has Christ risen; and if Christ has not risen, vain is your faith, for you are still in your sins. Hence they also who have fallen asleep in Christ, have perished. If with this life only in view we have had hope in Christ, we are of all men the most to be pitied.” (I. Cor. 15:17–19)

In other words, with Jesus’ Resurrection stands or falls Christian faith. It is no supplement to that faith, also no mythological development, briefly acquired for historical purposes, to be dropped without danger. It is the center of our religion.

The apostle’s consciousness of this fact leads us back to Jesus himself: What did he have to say about it? Jesus often spoke of his death, particularly on the three special occasions during his last trip to Jerusalem; each time, however, he added that he would rise again. In these declarations the attitude towards death peculiar to Jesus is crystallized.

The death that is valid for us is unknown to him. He knows only death followed by Resurrection: immediate, historical Resurrection. With this we arrive at the supreme but also most difficult task of Christian thought: that of understanding the Lord’s existence. The simplest Christian is given such understanding through participation in the community of grace, through faith and imitation. But what we are aiming at here is conscious, intellectual comprehension, for the mind is also summoned to service for Christ. (A priori is its willingness to submit to Christian “baptism.”)

The problem of understanding the living Jesus Christ and interpreting his consciousness of self is extremely difficult. Two dangers face it: that of falling into purely human psychology, which simply discards all that lies outside its limitations, and that of dogmatizing: of claiming the supernatural without being able to make it apparent.

Only he is really successful who on the one hand never loses touch with the living figure of the Lord, appreciating his humanity at every step; yet on the other, is constantly aware of the fact that this appreciation is at all times subject to explosion by something that is not only the greatness of genius or the dynamism of religious experience, but holy God himself.

The stand Jesus takes to the world is different from ours. His attitude to people is different from that of one person to another. His relation to God is not that of a believer. His consciousness of his own existence, of his living and dying is utterly different from ours, already conditioned by the coming Resurrection.

We are faced with an either-or that reaches to the bottom of existence. If we take ourselves as measuring-rod, our human lives, the world as it appears to us, our thoughts and reactions and attempt to judge Christ by them, can only conclude that the Resurrection was either the psychological result of a religious shock, or the product of a primitive community’s desire for a cult.

In other words, individual or mass self-deception. Then logic demands that this whole chapter of Jesus’ life, with all its conditions and conclusions, be eliminated as swiftly as possible and a “pure” Christianity formulated. Admittedly, what remains will be little more than very thin ethics and piety. This is one possibility.

The alternative is to realize in our own lives what Christ’s whole existence demands: faith. Then we understand that he did not come to bring us new but world-born truths and experiences, but to free us from the spell which the world has cast over us.

This means that we hear and accept his demands; that we measure him by the standards he himself has taught us; that we know, once and forever, that he was not born to further this existence, but that a new existence was born in him.

Thus we accomplish the complete reversal of faith, which no longer judges Christ with worldly eyes, but sees the world and everything in and around it with his eyes. Then we do not say: There is no such thing as the return to life of one who has died; therefore the Resurrection is a myth, but: Christ rose again; therefore resurrection is possible, and his Resurrection is the foundation of the true world. – Excerpted from “The Lord.”

#easter sunday

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neo-shitty · 3 years

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if you’re not interested in reading a long-ass post, here’s a summary of everything you need to know about me aka my carrd.

✧･ﾟ: * ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ *:･ﾟ✧

hi, my name’s toffee!

it’s not my real name, but it’s the one i go by on all of my social media accounts related to k-pop. it’s from a NCT fan fic on wattpad named dating hotline and i loved it so much that i stole MC’s nickname (kidding, i messaged the author on twt and she let me use it #flex)

since most of you judge people by their signs, i’m a taurus sun, scorpio moon and libra rising. i’m not sure if i phrased that right but i hope you get something out of that information because i read my natal chart thingy and most (but not all, of course) were accurate.

i’m 18, i talk with mostly no restraint on my blog. i express rage in the form of cussing whether necessary or not so if you’re uncomfortable with that, please do let me know. or don’t follow me at all.

oh, before i forget, @toffeerecs is my library/recommendations blog.

and my networks are: kpopscape, kwritersworld, stayhavens, k-diner, ateez inc., neo-the-stars, stayracha, angstyskz club, and neowritingsnet

✧･ﾟ: * ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧

this blog was originally my personal blog until i got back into kpop in 2020 and discovered the writing communities for kpop fandoms here. i know, there are fic-specific sites like wattpad and ao3 but i liked the tumblr fics more because of the mood boards and aesthetics.

so i revamped this and started writing my own fics. first for ateez, then for stray kids and then nct. i’m still debating whether i’d continue writing for ateez or not since i’m growing quite distant from them.

to get this out of the way, i do not take requests. although i would love to, i’ve discovered—in the past few months that i’ve run this blog—that it doesn’t work for me. though i think most people who make requests are nice, i put a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself when it comes to writing for others.

i always think that only the best fics deserve to be up on this blog, which is also why most of my fics are stuck in my google docs. my own standards for my own fics are already high and i don’t need other people to add on to it. i hope you understand.

next, angst comes naturally to me while fluff comes in the form of daydreams and scenarios that would never happen to me in real life. i fancy writing other-worldly things and those that are out of what i consider ordinary. thriller books > thriller movies.

lastly, here’s a link to my masterlist.

✧･ﾟ: * ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ *:･ﾟ✧

to be honest, trying to contact me here is hopeless. mainly because i’m barely on the app since it crashes a lot and i usually open it just to drop a fic and go. though i pop up every now and then to answer to dms and organize it and scroll a bit before it eventually crashes again.

i want to try that thing with the asks though and i would love anons too. but i barely get any asks which is alright to me too. i think you have better chances of getting answered if you send an ask rather than a dm. so you do that if you wanna chat.

i’m fairly good at conversing. the only problem is i take my sweet ass time to respond. i get anxious when i get notifications and i only reply when i have enough energy to talk and share (like today, which i utilized so i could at least organize this blog).

please don’t mistake my taking a while to reply as me ignoring you. i like to converse when i’m i have enough headspace to keep a conversation going. though that doesn’t happen often, though (and i think that’s the problem).

all i’m saying is out of all the social media platforms, you have the least chances to contact me here. but i’m on these other ones where i’m a lot more active:

instagram : neoshiitty twitter : neoshiitty

or you could send me a dm and ask for my discord if you really want to chat but i’m not even sure if you read this far.

#toffee.about-me #toffee.navigation #blog under construction :3

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adamgeorgiou · 3 years

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Arthur, My Cousin and Me

I don’t know how to detangle Arthur from myself enough to write dispassionately or accurately. Instead, what follows is something like half him, half me. It’s more journal entry than elegy. To a general audience, that might make this less interesting than it otherwise could be, but it’s what I’ve got. Remember this if and when you get to the end.

Anyway…

I feel like I knew Arthur. Then I heard what others had to say and saw what others had to feel. Following his death, I still feel like I know him. In certain ways better than most or all. But there’s a part of me that’s often strained to believe that I was in more of his inner circle than I actually was, and his death exposed the truth of my position.

It’s a practical observation, not a dramatic one. I’m not saying he had a dominating and hidden alter ego or that he pitied me. It’s simpler: his death revealed my confidence in our bond as an illusion innocuously leftover from being kids together, from back when we actually spent serious time together. I want him back now like I’ve continuously wanted back what we lost long ago, but now it’s double-permanent and legible. Before it was remediable and blissfully hidden — embarrassing in hindsight, like most nostalgia.

But he also had that same nostalgia and held onto it, too, which makes me feel better. That mutual thread to our shared past was strong for both of us. It gave us a lot to lean on, but we leaned on it a little too heavily. Without that crutch, our adult lives were mostly opaque to one another, but also we were getting close again, involving each other again. Building anew. The left hook following the right. It’s a shame we weren’t closer than we were, when he died. It’s a shame our getting closer was cut short.

I guess it makes sense, generally: as adults, we’re all doing niche things, and niches are small and excluding, so everything else trends towards becomes small talk. (And that’s fine and right, because focus is necessary for growth. Just try and stay loyal, which Arthur did and my cousins do.)

Maybe it wasn’t so much that I was uniquely outside of Arthur’s confidence, but more that we had both (or all) grown a bit into our own isolation. In any case, I mourn the loss and its new finality.

So that’s him and I as adults, apart. Who was he, though? What can I tell you?

Well, I’ll briefly start with me, for context. Who I am is still him, the result of his influence, for sure. Of growing with, then adjacent to him, then apart, then converging again (more on the converging, later). If you distilled me down and got rid of all the litter and trivia, the rare and potent stuff remaining would be similar to what I knew of Arthur. We had the same essence, as I saw it. So I can show you that reflection, and you can tell me if it’s accurate (See: first paragraph’s disclaimer). (Also, note my calling out our similarity is carefully placed right before I go on to flatter him best I can — tactics, baby — but don’t read my ego into this. What follows is all my cousin.)

Arthur and confidence. Old saying: the pro fails more often than the amateur tries.

The subtleties of his personality were sophisticated and complicated. He could spar at an exceptional level from an early age. But he started out lazy and overthrowing a lot of his punches, gassing out quickly.

As a kid, he was autistically independent, preoccupied and hyper focused, but without any of the social hangups. He could talk to anyone and impressed everyone. He was adored, and rightfully so, but he also marched to the beat of his own nunchucks, exclusively. You couldn’t bullshit him, and you couldn’t placate him unless he was genuinely fascinated with what you offered. This is how kids should be, insatiably curious and wild. It was my favorite era of his, and where we spent the most time together. I was such an asshole to him, and he still always hung out with me. And we followed each other into a lot of similar interests.

Then he got his first hit of testosterone, and followed a phase where he literally held a fist up in every photo taken of him. Ha. Puberty’s a bitch. That didn’t last long. Reality checked and he stabilized. The important thing is that he knew he wasn’t going to watch, he was going to play. I loved him here, jealously and from a further distance. I couldn’t hang.

Then maturity: The firm handshake, the direct eye contact, the bright teeth, the smiling cheeks. Approachable, but not daffy. If anything his charisma was a prank and shrewd tactic; a car salesman during the first act, a playful subversion before the intellect and wit made their debut; or, worse for you, they didn’t. You’d start talking to Arthur and think you were walking in on a frat-boy breakfast table, then he’d go on to tell you why your problem was really because of what Robert Moses did back in ‘56, or he’d ask if you thought the The States were in a similar stage of decadence as Rome before its fall.

To him, your reason was more important than your choice, which is an axiom of all good conversation, one that most people are afraid to admit because doing so requires the ability to tread water. It’s easier to talk about the weather or watch sports. But Arthur wasn’t afraid of going deeper, and he had the tact to know when it was the right thing to do.

He was a man of appetite. A true traveling gourmand. He could scoff at you from within a seersucker, but he never compared oysters. If a menu offered Seattle’s or Rhode Island’s, he’d reply, “keep ‘em coming” and demand littlenecks or (and) crawfish to follow. He was less interested in varieties of wine, more in varieties of tomato and whether you had a good coarse salt.

He was spoiled rotten — as we all were, and mostly by the same sources — but he lacked pretension, except for that deliberately wielded for ironic effect. Underneath all his developed and developing taste was a lot of comical stoicism — laughing at gross injustice and absurdity, but also doing something about it, literally. His principles were conjured up from experience with the trappings of pleasure, with readings of history, with a variety of surprisingly worldly stories. I always wondered where and how he got it all. The guy had seen things, but not that many things. How was he always so versed? I don’t know, but if you’ve ever watched him eat a box of clementines straight up, wide-eyed in a wrinkled rugby shirt, then you would also know he was more pensive than pleasure seeking.

Entertainment was a defense, one he was growing out of as he realized it interfered with his goals and their requirements. A defense against what? I don’t know for sure, but I suspect the typical. On one hand, a lack of patience and a petulant refusal to be bored. On the other, the existential and solipsistic. A defense against the subconscious shame and pain of cynicism. Was love real? Was wealth worth anything? Was the world bogus? Was anyone authentic? Ethical? Himself? Others?

Look, I’m not saying he was overwhelmed with this gooey crap. He was a thinker, not a navel gazer. I don’t know if he even said any of this stuff out loud, but anyone with a brain is going to ask some questions about the life they’re living and the society they’re in, and most of us don’t like the first obvious answers we come up with. Then we do something about not liking those answers. We put fingers in our ears some of the time, we do what’s easy some of the time, and we do what’s difficult some of the time. And also, anyone with any talent is going to find themselves bored among the average, and falling short of their own standards. These were Arthur’s struggles, I think. At least, they’re kind of my struggles, and Arthur seemed to harmonize with me when we’d commiserate. Or maybe we were both pompous assholes, wannabe aristocrats from the suburbs. Or maybe that was just me. Ha.

To some, it might seem appropriate to haunt him here in this postscript, as if to justify his death as the terminal approach of a depression into cessation. Let me be clear: this was totally not the case, from my vantage. Instead, the above attitudes are more like the required cost-of-entry to a great show. If the unexamined life isn’t worth living, it does not mean the examined one is easy to live. The alternative is Judge Judy and a monogrammed armchair. Not for Arthur. Caulfield eventually quits his bitching, but he has to eat a lot of shit first. Siddhartha finally leaves the brothel, but he had to walk in that door in order to walk out of it later. Hard times are the prerequisite to epiphany. Painful and confusing; but hopeful, not despairing.

And you could tell Arthur was among this company because the personas he employed became increasingly sophisticated, useful, attractive, and comfortable. From the brawling, pack-leading, indulgent, jokester/show-off into the relaxed, independent, luxurious, conversationalist who wasn’t as afraid to let his guard down, who was increasingly responsible. He was cultivated. He had a tamed self-consciousness (as we all aspire). It was impressive to watch him pull his own strings, to compare that with your own attempts and be humbled.

And thus, as I see it, the irony, hard to swallow, is that Arthur was finding answers to life’s hard questions in fistfuls. Love was possible. Work was worth it. Viktor Frankl was right. And he was learning patience and conviction, already better at their practice than most (e.g. me). As Dan put it, he was just taking off. He jumped and then a hand reached up from the almost escaped gravity and cut him by the heel.

A complete, but simple tragedy.

Complete, because the good guy lost.

Simple, because Arthur’s life was not some melodramatic airport novel. His death was a lightning strike, a deus ex machina in reverse. A two sentence accident, not an assassination. Not much more to be read from it. Mortality is hard, right? (See: Genesis).

And for all my elaboration, I don’t even think Arthur was all that noxiously introspective or exceptionally self destructive either. The guy knew how to love and be loved. How to let his hair down, appropriately. How to shift gears and drive forward. How to resist temptation. How to find and be good company. How to stare at a fish tank. How to sit and read. How to eat fruit in the sun. He was typically bright, with a lot of flair and personality. I know he was grateful.

Or I’m wrong. Maybe I’m inventing a story to make sense of something more concealed or of pure chaos. I don’t know. I don’t think so.

In any case, it’s a tragedy. And regardless of what is true, I’m still glad I got to hear his story and be part of some of it. He was and remains a good influence to me, a fellow bright eyed boy attempting to sustain himself in the body of a straight-backed man. He’ll live on for a long, long time. And I keep talking to him.

That’s some of what I knew of him. And given this is my catharsis, forgive me further, but more about me:

Sadness, gratitude, and disappointment.

I’m sad. Still? Yes. Always? Probably not. The inevitability of death hits a certain emotional bedrock after enough love is lost. I’m probably not there yet, still more distance to fall, but things are tapering off, in the aggregate. Maybe I’m just cold.

Sadness is the least interesting. I am separated from someone I love, and that sucks. We all have people we’ve loved, and we are all damned to lose them. But yes, I get those black bile clutches to the chest as I’m reminded that Arthur (et al.) is gone. And I wanna hold your hand, if you’re feeling it too.

It’s a curse that requires gratitude. Time keeps on slipping, and the portion of time that one spends with good people is shorter still. I’m thankful for Arthur’s good company. From childhood to peerdom. This is what I’ll try and focus on. It’s the mantra I’ll repeat. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Then there’s the sulking disappointment. My head slowly shaking, my eyes unfocused contemplating the loss of the unpredictable conversations, the refreshingly interesting trivia, the uniqueness, the independence, the honed never impersonated taste, the great breadth of knowledge, the artful ball busting, the avoidance of cliches, the shared recommendations, the belly laughs. Obnoxious mutual indulgence — food and talk — during Thanksgiving at Stacy’s table, the shared past at Everit Ave, the just started planning. The feeling of a just missed answer to the question of how to get it back, continuously nagging.

More on that: I’m dealing with a huge mess of unanswerable questions and impotence. There’s so much broken by his leaving, least of all in me, and I can’t fix any of it. No way to organize it. I can’t even help others fix it. Acknowledging the impossibility of the situation seems better than ignoring it, so I will (…acknowledge that death breaks the world and makes inconsistent a lot taken as granted). Arthur’s death is an oily surreal void in the middle of the road. A portal to nowhere. And sure, life will go on. We will preserve. Time heals all wounds. That’s all true. But any schmuck can offer a platitude. I want to be responsible for what he’s left behind, in precise detail. I want to pick up the slack, fill in the blank. But what was his remains his, locked up behind whatever door his soul is now shut. It’s maddening.

I went so far as to tell Olivia that I was her brother, too, and that I would be there for her. Idiot. I love her, she knows I love her, I know she loves me. Yada, yada. I need no pity for my vomiting on the rug. My point is: I can’t be Arthur. I can’t even be close to Arthur. Adam — while still pretty good — isn’t a substitute for Arthur. I apologized for being so naive and sloppy, but the moment taught me what I was trying to say above: that I am ignorant of so much of Arthur’s life, and in ways that can’t be remedied by interviewing his friends or reading his book or wearing his shoes, sort of speak. A lot of it isn’t just unknown, it’s unknowable.

This requires more thought. Surely something can be done. Entropy can’t be rewound, but duct tape can keep a plane in the air. So here’s something I’m going to try: I’m going to be more vulnerable. I’m going to expose myself the way a brother or a son might, and see what happens. It won’t transform me into a replacement, and I’ll probably make a clown of myself. But it’s worth a shot. To build different connections, instead of replicas. I can already see that the cousins have been hammered stronger by this. Now it’s time to be deliberate, and keep that train going, if possible. And yea, I’ll do the practical stuff. You can’t call Barb, enough. And I’ll call Liv, too, but with finesse, without overdoing it. And the rest of our family, as well, because we all lost something. For some a spleen; for others, more vital organs.

Moving on.

It’s further maddening to have Arthur’s death aligned and intertwined with so much of my pleasure. I’m a week into marriage. I’m ecstatic and overwhelmed by the potential of my future. I’m also newly terrified of losing a child not yet even conceived. That’s a fun one. Probably a lot more neurosis to come. But, yea… it’s a violent set of waves to endure and ride. It’s exhilarating and crushing, and guiltily I’ll admit, more of the former. I’m pronoid.

The guilt compounds as I realize that I’m only comparing the conflict between my pleasure and pain, when the actual accounting includes my pleasure, my pain, and all the pain of all the others he left behind, those we both loved. What about Alexandra? Barb? Liv? Dan? A dominating, trailing factor; ego-hidden and selfishly deprioritized. What would Jesus do? Not have a wedding during shiva, although I appreciate all the encouragement and insistence from the also mourning invitees.

Back to Arthur and I having grown apart and then, more recently, back together:

There exists a line separating most relationships. On one side of the line you have people who have a reasonably complete model of you in their head. (See: Theory of Mind.) On the other side of the line are people who have a functional model; they know what they need to know to get the job done, but they don’t know, perhaps have never seen, the whole thing. For ex., a spouse vs a colleague (most of the time).

The line is called intimacy, and relationships on both sides of the line can be valuable, but the intimate ones have more potential in both directions, fat tails; the intimate ones can yield fortunes and bankruptcies. Acquaintances are tepid.

I described it above, how Arthur’s and my relationship moved from the intimate to the distant. I’ll skip further detailing that transition, and just get to the thing that hurts now: we were getting markedly closer, again. I could see the trajectory of our friendship and would bet on our returning to intimacy and confidence.

If the isolation of vocation and growth drives most bourgeois adults apart and into impersonal silos, then eventual mastery and plateau allows room for a focus on humanity, again. And humanity is universal and objective. People can stand on it, together, and get to know each other (again). That’s where I felt Arthur and I were.

I felt like Arthur and I had taken two separate tracks at a fork 15 years ago, and just recently those two roads started to merge back into the same path. We had stories to tell each other, of our time in the wild. It was the basis for a new bond, perhaps stronger than the old one.

Unsolicited phone calls. Talks of marriage, health, wealth. Suggestions of books and podcasts that were actually followed through with, instead of disappearing into the void like most cocktail party prescriptions. We’d follow back. Not rushing each other past awkward silence. Being patiently invested in one another. Showing up. Talking about vulnerable topics, like fears and aspirations for careers, and relationships, and family. And then, right during the peak of this rekindling, this jubilee, he died. And I doubt that I was the only one whose newfound growth and compatibility were cut short. You’re not alone.

So I hurt for the spent love, yes, like that of most grief. But I hurt more for the lost potential. I had so many fresh dreams that included him. It’s disappointing and sad.

To be clear, I’m disappointed in what’s lost, not disappointment in him. I blame him for nothing, even if maybe I should or others do. But any of his mistakes could have easily been mine, and so I sympathize. I’m not angry. Ambition implies risk. Vice is vice is inevitable. Growth means growth from something. Different contexts, need not apply.

Anyway, what else? The thing I linger on now is a weird faith. I have little faith or rather I have difficulty finding faith. I scrutinize faith until it’s demoralized. And yet, the discontinuity introduced by Arthur’s absence gives me faith, illogically but compellingly. I don’t strive for it, it’s simply there, point blank. I can’t explain it, but I can describe it.

Arthur is gone forever, and Arthur is part of my future. Both irrevocably true, yet incompatible. What to do about it? Apparently, not much. My mind absolutely and happily refuses to budge. The feeling that Arthur is part of my future supersedes the knowledge that he’s not. Knowing he’s gone does nothing to my belief that my future includes him. So it continues to. Sue me, I can’t help it.

See you in the funnies, Arthur. (More trivia: I never called him Artie or Art or Archo. He was always Arthur to me.)

Lastly, some good, more recent memories (skipping some that have already been shared):

The last thing I spoke to Arthur about was extensive advice, over the phone, on how to structure a prenup. “Don’t put anything about kids in there, because the courts won’t accept that you understood what you were agreeing to, prior to actually having the kids.” Smart. “Everyone should get one! The courts encourage it! Helps ungunk the works.” Ha. Kelly and I never got a prenup, but the candid advice on such a touchy subject makes me laugh.

Eating a whole pig at a communal table, biergarten style, at Saxon and Parole, in New York. Arthur talking the whole table’s ear off about everything, and then after discussing eating brains, we asked the chef to bring the pig’s over, and he did. Afterwards, walking to our trains, jolly, drunk.

Visiting Arthur in Scotland. Going out to some Uni warehouse party, and me getting lost with some bird. I didn’t have a working European phone, and so when I got home at dawn, seeing him and his big bravado looking like a worried mother goose made me laugh and proud, like a big brother again. Him cooking the two of us mussels and linguine with three whole heads of garlic. Delicious. Steak in Edinburgh, and him showing me the castles like he was himself a duke, personal friends of Hume and Smith.

I wished we went on more walks together.

Us planning on going to Joe Beef, in Montreal, with Alexandra and Kelly.

Him calling me to tell me Anthony Bourdain had died, and subsequently talking about it. “If he can’t make it, who can?” There’s that cynicism again. But it was a candid moment. And we ended that talk, more or less, believing we could make it, even if Bourdain couldn’t.

Discussing whether we were fated to end up like our parents.

Him shooting the .38 up in Gilboa.

Legos, spanky, ice box bedroom, V8-turbo toilet, the pool, the trampoline, the screen porch and its green furniture, endless chicken rolls followed by cold pizza, karate in the basement (no shoes on the mats), rolling on the carpet (i.e. roll mosh), forts, the Barbie game on the gateway computer in Izzy’s room, Snood, army men in the mud ripping up sod by the square foot unit, jealousy listening to Timberlake camp stories, the suburban with 100 blankets in the third row and Don McLean on the radio, toxic farts, the Pokemon store, the Pokemon cards I’d steal from him after going to the Pokemon store, a million cups of Lipton at Barb’s table, Rage Against the Machine in Dan’s car, lanyards, fishing in the Hewlett Bay, Harry Potter, him never sleeping over my house and getting rides home at 2am after attempting to (me pissed), hiding in that lone pine tree in the front yard, making window art out glitter glue, salamanders, watching him attempt to ride a bike in the driveway.

A menial history, but ours. Anyway…

Arthur, you were great. It’s not for me to say that you’re now resting in peace, because I think you were pretty zen while you were alive, in your own pastel-colored kimono kind of way. So instead, I hope you’re as satisfied there as you were interested here. I’ll see you soon, and until then, I’ll try and hold the line for you. Love ya’.

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sweetheartbtsateez · 5 years

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❣️ The best personality for BTS ❣️

softhxe said to memyselfandkpop:Hi! I love your writings ❤ Could you do a "The best personality for bangtan"? I mean, just saying the best type of person you think BTS needs (for dating) and the worst kind of personality, I hope you understood me uwu And take your time too, rest well and live happily ❤

Thanks for your request love! Hope you like this, and I’m sorry that this took so long <3 -Mary

Edit: btw most of this is written in female pronouns, hope you don’t mind

-This is just my opinion-

Jin

According to the zodiac page I just looked up, sagittarius men are generally idealistic, optimistic, God-fearing, generous, honest and truthful. Since Sagittarian males are gifted with strong intuition, they also make good judges of character. When it comes to love, Sagittarian males are passionate and straightforward. They are slow to commit, love the chase and are capable of walking from a relationship if the problems cannot be resolved. But, once they are committed, then, they can be very loyal to their spouses or lovers. The best matches for Jin would be other sagittarius, leos, aries, aquariuses and libras. Now, onto the request itself, I feel like the best match for Jin would be someone who’s not afraid to speak their mind, passionate about everything the do/enjoy, friendly, romantic, with a sense of humour as complex as his’, loves food (who doesn’t lol), knows how to cook and takes care of their friends. I don’t think he’d be into a overly cutesy type of girl, more like a fashionable and fancy type of girl. Bonus point if you can feed his ego daily.

Hoseok

Aquarius is generally considered to be the sign of the zodiac that is the most forward thinking. They love new ideas, progress, and inventiveness. Aquarians are also major humanitarians, in love with anything that they think will make the world a better place for the human race at large. When it comes to love match astrology, Aquarians are best paired with other air signs, or alternatively with fire signs (sagittarius, libras, geminis). For Hobi, I think he’d fall head over heels for someone with a great sense of fashion, is usually giggly and smiley, but can exude sexiness and confidence easily. Also someone who gets along well with his family (specially his mother and sister) and more on the extrovert side, but I do think that an introvert could also be a good match for him. Bonus point if you can dance (or want to learn) so that he can dance with you.

Yoongi

The Pisces personality is thoughtful and dreamy, it's fair to say that Pisces really does live in a dream land. Pisces is very sensitive and is extremely receptive to other people's emotions and is often weighed down by them, which explains why Pisces isn't compatible with every zodiac sign. The best matches for pisces are taurus, cancer, leos (like me yay) and libras. Now, I think we can all agree that clothing wise, Yoongi would love a girl who dresses in all black all the time, and has a kind of edgy vibe to her, but is actually a sweetie pie. He’d prefer an introvert, so that they can understand each other better. Also someone that loves cuddles, and has a deep love for music. Bonus point if you wouldn’t mind staying up late at the studio with him.

Namjoon

Virgo natives are practical, order-loving individuals that possess a strong need to feel valued and useful when it comes to all the major aspects of their lives. They are also logical, clever, detail-oriented folks who hold themselves (and everyone else as well) to very high standards. Virgos believe that if something is worth doing at all, then it ought to be worth doing right. They are dutiful and responsible, never the type of people to feel comfortable shirking responsibility – even on a temporary basis – and they are at their best when they have plenty on their plate to keep them busy. Taurus, cancer, scorpios and capricorns are the best matches for virgos. Personally, I think an ambivert fits Namjoon better, as I feel like that way he can get the best of both worlds. He needs someone with a positive mindset that can help him with his struggles when he’s feeling down. I think he’d love a girl who dresses well and looks good in anything. Also someone who enjoys quiet activities like photography, reading, hiking...I also see him going for a cute but sexy kind of girl, not too cute, but not overly sexy as well. Bonus points if you’d raise baby crabs with him and wouldn’t give him shit when he breaks something.

Jimin

Libras are beings that are very much concerned with fairness, justice, and most of all peace. They really do seem to live by the motto “can’t we all just get along” more than any other sign. Libras, like the other air signs, are also known for their high degree of sociability and love of intellectual pursuits, music, and the arts. They are definitely considered to be one of the most easy-going, agreeable signs. The best matches for libras are geminis, leos, sagittarius and aquariuses. Jimin is a sweetie pie who needs to be protected and taken well care of, no tea just facts. So I think that maybe a fierce and strong extrovert who always stands up for him and motivates and appreciates him would be the best match for him. Contrary to this, I think he’d enjoy a girly type of girl (wears a lot of bright colors, skirts, dresses...) Bonus point if you’d sing BTS songs with him.

Taehyung

Capricorn is a sign that tends to take a practical approach toward life. Capricorn natives are diligent, prudent, dedicated, and responsible. They never shy away from a challenge, and they are very success oriented. Laziness and apathy are words that are quite simply not part of the Capricorn vocabulary. Capricorns are definitely able to appreciate the finner things in life. Capricorn natives are also people that require a lot of recognition, as well as a sense that they are useful and necessary, in order to feel truly satisfied with their lives. The recognition they crave is generally more of the worldly, material variety, but I think that also translates into needing lots of compliments and words of reassurement. Once again, an ambivert suits Taehyung better. Someone who enjoys art, music, reading, shopping...Style wise, he’d love someone fashionable, who changes up their style almost every day and isn’t afraid to try new things. Bonus point if you’d paint and visit museums with him.

Jungkook

When it comes to romance, Virgo is a shy sign and often tries to hide this fact behind a very logical façade. In fact, strong emotions that seem to come out of nowhere strike Virgo as irrational and downright frightening. Through this lens, it's easy to see why some Virgo love matches fare better than others. Taurus, cancer, scorpios and capricorns are the best matches for virgos. I picture Jungkook falling for an edgy but shy kind of girl. Dresses in a lot of black with a street/tumblr/e-girl style. Definetly an introvert who loves video games, photography, memes and music. Also, he’s the biggest hopeless romantic ever, so make sure you are as well and he’ll love you forever. Bonus point if you’d stay up all night with him playing overwatch and eating ramen.

#requests are open #bts #bts ideal type #best personality for bts #bts reactions #bts drabbles #bts masterlist #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #jin

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lifeofresulullah · 4 years

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Treaty of Hudaybiyah and Calling the Great States of the World to Islam

The Battle of Muta: Part 2

Accounting Starts

It was the 8th month of the Migration, the month of Jumadal-Ula.

They were in the battlefield of Muta.

Both parties saw each other and laid their eyes on each other; it was meaningless to wait any longer.

Martyrdom of Zayd

Jafar is Martyred, too

Abdullah b. Rawaha Receives the Standard

It was Abdullah b. Rawaha’s turn to become the commander.

As a result of this fight, Abdullah attained the high rank he desired.

The Islamic Army Scatters

The mujahids said, “We have chosen you as the commander; we are pleased with you.”

However, Khalid, who was a respectful and emotional hero, wanted Thabit, who was a respectable old man, to hold the standard. He said,

“I cannot take the standard from you. You deserve it more than me. You are older than me and you took part in the Battle of Badr.”

Then, without letting Khalid answer, he turned to Muslims and said, “Do you agree unanimously to choose Khalid as the commander?”

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merrysithmas · 5 years

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you may have talked about this before but do you believe boris already knew he was queer and first approached theo bc he liked him or that he started crushing after they developed a close friendship and theo was what made him question his sexuality? i think theres reasons to believe either side- boris being bold enough to cuddle him in bed seems like he was making a move but him suddenly “loving” kotku seems like an impulsive move out of fear bc he realized he might like a boy. oof idk

I think Boris knew he was attracted to boys — which is evident by his playful, charming, almost teenaged-desperate pursuit of Theo. I think he probably inherently knew this about himself for a long time. I think Boris has always been physically attracted to boys since he’s entered puberty and since he’s still a young teen it is kind of a fun, funny, interesting, enlivening thing for him.

He’s never had a stable life and despite being all over the world he’s led an extremely sheltered existence in a certain way with only one terrible person as his constant (Vladimir). Boris lets it slip to Theo that everywhere the miners go they are hated — this includes Boris. Boris is hated by the public everywhere they go. So long as he is part of their unit, he is hated. That is mortifying to intelligent good-natured Boris. That is why he learns to slip out and around, to be so personable and friendly. His world travels have not been so glorious but probably rather extremely lonely and isolating (as with Judy in Canada), hurtful, and damaging. That is why Bami and Judy (and eventually, Theo) stand out to him so much — people who were kind to him in a childhood of isolated misery and directionlessness. Boris has no moral hang ups about his same-sex attraction - why should he? This directionlessness in his key developmental years is also a good thing: He never grew up around any sort of organized belief systems or stayed bound within an orthodox culture for too long for it to indoctrinate him as its own.

I think people really underestimate how incredibly remote and friendless Boris’ life must have been. Boris is a cheerful boy who Theo says is often plagued by black moods and sullen attitudes. He is an abused and secluded child dragged from location to location with literally no love or stability and constantly brutally beaten to the point where it does not even phase him. Boris actually equates love with that abuse — and nonchalantly claims his father loves him. That is painful to read, that amount of damage.

Living with a bunch of derelict miners whose leader was HIS FATHER (so surely then mostly assholes) and who are “hated everywhere they go” Boris has probably seen any NUMBER of things a conservative-minded person would (likely often erroneously) see as “morally unacceptable” — it’s like Boris is traveling the world with a crew of pirates. He’s probably seen drinking, all kinds of drugs commonly used in front of his face. He has esoteric knowledge about drug use that a child of his age should not — so he was taught by the miners: roll like this, dont include the stems, never mix this, tuck snuff like this, you can get this kind of drug here here and here, it isn’t safe if it doesn’t look like this. His young child’s mind eager to learn sucked up this black information from men who probably didn’t have a second thought to a child or what his developmental needs were. He’s probably first hand witnessed sex workers copulating with his father’s crew (how else would be have learned about the opportunity to lose his virginity in an Alaskan parking lot to a sex worker?), definitely thievery, and said he saw his father murder a man in the mine once and cover it up. Boris’ mind is full of a lifetime of this morally shadowed behavior being presented as normal, or at least secret but common.

I think he understands his attraction to boys in this same way. I think he feels it isn’t “appropriate” to share with Outsiders but it is something that Happens, something that is no one’s business but his own, and something that brings him pleasure and happiness and therefore something he will look for. However he knows it isn’t common or visible or “appropriate” to be showy about it in front of others — especially not people who could judge him (kids at school), kick him out (society), or hurt him (his father). Boris treats his attraction to Theo like his other vices and “bad” habits - barrels head first — but secret: deep dive into happy drug use (but don’t show his dad), steals everything he ever needs (but don’t let them see, put it in my coat), lies when it suits him (lies to Xandra and Larry and his father and Theo too), happily sleeps with Theo and has sex with him (but this is between you-and-me).

He knows other people might have a problem with his actions — but he does not. So that’s his hangup there. He is aware of and ever-vigilant of his surroundings. School: a safe place isolated from his father. He is free and happy to do what he wants at school — including crush on and go after Theo who he clearly likes. He thinks Theo is cute, flirts with him, tries to get him to notice him, talks to him after class, sits next to him on the bus, begs him to come over his house, tries to impress him with far-flung stories, gives him alcohol because it’s what he’s seen his father’s men do in pursuit of romantic partners or as a bonding ritual with one another.

Theo’s house is also a safe place. So safe in fact that Boris starts to leave behind some of the maladjusted development of his childhood and become more of a happy, clear-minded person. Boris and Theo suffer from arrested development and one of themes of the book is childhood lost. They are forced to mimic adults either knowingly or unknowingly, and act in ways that children should not have to in order to survive this Adult World alone. With one another they begin to heal from their traumas, their affection for one another the catalyst. Theo cooks for him, talks to a babbling eager-to-talk Boris (imagine how few people have listened to or understood the ideas of a smart boy like Boris, often surrounded by oafish alcoholics, his violent father where he is expected to keep quiet, or cultures where he does not speak the language), Theo sleeps next to him willingly, he likes Boris, a boy from New York (the top of the world!) he think Boris is funny and smart and worldly, shares his dog with him, hangs on his words, becomes his companion, cares for him if he drinks too much, tried to tend his wounds, welcomes him gratefully into his broken family, watches his favorite movies with him, celebrates holidays with him, inherently values him — and so starts to mend Boris’ broken heart.

A lot of things and viewpoints Boris has are clearly repetitions of things he has heard his father or the miners say — “Christmas is for children” (of course they’d say that to a tiny Boris longing for the magic of Christmas as a child stuck in a mining camp watching the peripheral joy of children around him and coming back to bleak hunger and a dark home), or “god yes I loved having sex with her” (about his hooker in the parking lot — Boris then says he knew she didn’t enjoy it and never shows enjoyment but rather avoidance towards women and girls in any genuine way afterwards, yet covets Theo’s physical company).

Theo on the other hand, who for a short while and then so painfully ripped from him, grew up with love. His natural disposition in Vegas comes from a place of being so recently loved and cherished by his mother and he here, in this lonely place, turns the focus of this disposition onto the one person who is kind and protective towards him: Boris — his one light in a life that has turned very dark. This is like an alien world to Boris. Lonesome and neglected Boris is touched and startled and soon changed by this kindness. So much so that Theo, unknowingly, alters the rest of Boris’ life (Boris feels Theo saved his life).

So that is why I believe the Kotku Gay Panic came about. After their climactic Vegas pool scene where their abuse and trauma is opened to one another (their wounds from their fathers, from fire, literally pouring into the purifying chlorine of the watery womb - mother - pool as they try to drown one another, angry at their attraction to one another, but then cling to and save one another instead) Boris begins to not just have fun and have sex and have freedom with Theo (all okay things by Boris’ standards as long as it is secret) — after that scene and they sleep together and Boris satisfies that teenaged human sexual need... they continue to hookup and be at bliss for a very long, happy time where they both begin to psychologically heal— Boris doesn’t just have sex and fun with Theo, he realizes he starts to love Theo.

Love - an extremely foreign concept to Boris who literally freaks the fuck out because he has no baseline for it. It isn’t the type of “love” that his father gives him (violent, untrustworthy), it isn’t the type of “love” the men who grew up around valued (cheap parking lot sex), it isn’t the kind of “love” his idol Larry has with Xandra (Larry lies to Xandra all the time), it isn’t the kind of “love” Boris has seen in his favorite movies (men and women over and over). No, this love with Theo is very very scary to him. Very perhaps dangerous. He doesn’t know.

I think Boris accepts his physical attraction to men as nbd. I think he probably feels most people feel such attractions or some other harmless private desires that certain people may see as an aberrant from “normal” for whatever reason (either typical kinks and silly hush hush sex shop porno stuff - or other far more despicable things he’s witnessed his father’s men do) and so thinks nothing of his own innocent, consensual goodtime-centered desires. Boris, who likely grew up with little exposure to healthy LGBTQ representation and has a very isolated POV in some ways, likely to some degree at the Vegas point in his life (however casually self-accepting he is) equates same-sex attraction with hush hush taboo sex activities — nothing to be ashamed of, but you’re not going to tell your dad.

As long as it is a personal thing, for him only, Boris embraces it. But it is the emotionality, the healing, the care, the love that freaks Boris out and makes him make a run for it to Kotku — only to recede to what he knows and repeat the exact kind of fake “love” he was taught by his father: unbelievable exclamations of devotion (Boris’ dad sobbing and telling him he loves him + “I love her I love her! She’s beautiful and perfect!”) coupled with the black truth (Boris’ dad beating the shit out of him + Boris beating Kotku).

Boris knows he likes boys but when he starts to love one — that’s when he runs away. Because that means something totally different: societally and personally.

#ask #anon #the goldfinch #boreo

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troybeecham · 3 years

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Fr. Troy Beecham

Sermon, 1 Advent 2020

Mark 13:24-37

Jesus said, “In those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,

and the moon will not give its light,

and the stars will be falling from heaven,

and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Today, the Christian year begins anew with the arrival of Advent.

Advent in the Christian life is the season of expectant waiting and preparation for both the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus at Christmas and the return of Jesus at the Second Coming. For many of us unused to living by the religious calendar rather than the secular, it would be hard to say which is more alien to our contemporary ideas of getting ready for Christmas, the season of Advent or the strange words of Jesus in today’s gospel reading.

Jesus confronts our self-reliance and self-satisfaction in the Gospel. His language is abrupt, unsettling. His warnings proclaim his arrival, God with us, not as a baby in Bethlehem, but rather as the Judge of all things and all people at the end of time.

No sweet infant smiling innocently at us this morning. He’s obviously not trying to charm us, but rather to startle us, to wake us up to the reality of the world and of the coming judgement. For those in power his words caused offense and fear. For those oppressed, the poor, the widow and orphans, his words were a cause for joy. An ancient Christian prayer comes to mind: Maranatha—come now, O Lord! This is not a prayer for Jesus to come again as a helpless baby; it is the longing cry of God’s people for him to return in power and glory, when “every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Phil. 2:10–11).

The image of Jesus as the cosmic Judge who will ultimately come again to put an end to all sin and wickedness forever is not so frightening to the poor and oppressed of the earth as it is to those with power, wealth, or lack of concern for others. For all who weep and mourn, for refugees, for those in war torn and famine-stricken countries, these worn and weary ones say Maranatha and really mean it. And the powerful, the wicked, those with everything to lose, tremble at this prayer!

Jesus bears witness to a reality that is coming, a reality that will expose all worldly realities, all earthly conditions, all human promises as fraudulent and deceiving. His preaching exposes our pretensions for what they really are. Jesus is calling each of us to a life of faith that is oriented on obedience to the Risen Messiah, to an utterly new source of ultimate authority and dominion in our own lives even as we expect his reign to come over the whole earth.

Each Advent, the renewing of the Christian year, we hear either Jesus or John the Baptist forever summoning us to have our lives reordered totally, of having our lives oriented to an altogether different reality – the coming kingdom of God. Jesus’ hearers, just like we ourselves, were used to having those in power say to them “Here is your horizon! Here is true north!”, but John said “No! They are lying to you! The powers and the powerful of the world want to convince you how to have your lives shaped, but I’m telling you the truth, revealed by God, who says ‘I am the true horizon, and I alone true north! Have your lives oriented solely to me!’”

And he preaches, “Every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” So, the standard of judgment on that last, great day is a life of continuous repentance. And repentance does not mean just being sorry, but of being reoriented in another direction. And this can only happen by the indwelling power of God’s Holy Spirit. We need power from outside ourselves to be transformed.

This Christian transformation is serious business. No previous commitment or identity will have ultimate meaning; no human ancestry or worldly allegiance will be of any consequence when Jesus comes again in power and glory to judge the world. The Christian proclamation is that a power from outside is coming, a power that is able to make a new creation out of people like us, who have no power of ourselves to save ourselves. The power that is coming is not our power—not the power of our deeds or our inner strength or our spiritual discipline or our faith or even our repentance. It is God’s power that gives good deeds and inner strength and spiritual discipline and faith and repentance. We are able to repent and bear fruit because God empowers us by grace, through the Holy Spirit, faith, and the Blessed Sacraments.

We cannot trust any of the powers of this world to save us or our world. This means that we are being offered a lifetime of being changed into the image of Jesus. It means we are going to be weaned away from our possessions and oriented toward being everlastingly possessed by the love of God. It means that we will become less interested in receiving personal blessings for ourselves and more interested in making Jesus known and loved to those “dwelling in darkness” (Matt. 4:16). It means that we will become more and more thankful as we become less and less self-righteous. It means that we will gradually become less preoccupied with our own privileges, prerogatives, and power affiliations and gradually see ourselves more and more in solidarity with every human being who, like us, can receive mercy only from the hand of God and not because of any human strength.

These changes have political consequences as well as individual ones. Repentance will mean seeking after the good of all, not just the comforts of a few or of those who think like us, and the knowledge of the coming of the Lord means that there will be hope—in the light of his power—of his intervention in the affairs of nations, that the efforts of the peacemakers will somehow, miraculously, be blessed, and our efforts to preserve our world will find ultimate fulfillment with the new heaven and earth joined as one.

My friends, Jesus is everything. He came once as a child; he comes now to those who receive him, to the hearts of all human beings who relinquish all human claims before the God who is coming in power, today through the Blessed Sacraments received by faith, and at the end of the ages.

My prayer for us all, and for all people, is that we will truly hear the cry of Jesus, invite him into our hearts to be transformed by him, that his light may shine through us into a very darkened world. The oppressed and sorrowful of the world, and we ourselves, may only then have hope rather than fear for the return of the Risen Savior, Jesus our Lord. Only in him may we ultimately find eternal peace and joy in the presence of God, and with all creation we will sing endless songs of thanksgiving for the loving Jesus who came and saved us.

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

#father troy beecham #christianity #troy beecham episcopal #jesus #father troy beecham episcopal #saints #god #salvation #peace #Advent

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