#what do you call this? this prevailing goodness and willingness to give everything they have and more? what word even touches it?

[dirtytransmasc]

the men and boys are innocent too.

we cry "the innocent women and children" to appeal to the masses, to try and force their sympathy, but the men and boys are innocent too.

I have seen sons crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their siblings. I have seen them break down at the loss of their families. I have seen them cling to their dead and grieve.

I have seen fathers cradle their dead children, seen them kiss their faces and hold their little hands. I have seen them faint with grief when asked to identify the dead. I have seen them carry their sons and daughters. I have seen them fasting to provide what little they can for their families.

I have seen men and boys digging through the rubble with just their bare hands, I have seen them comforting strangers, playing with children, rocking them, hushing them, even if the face of such imminent danger. I have seen them cry, seen them grieve, seen them break down into each other's arms, seen them be selfless, beyond selfless, becoming something I don't have a word for.

I have seen the men who are doctors refuse to leave their patients, even when they have no medicine or supplies to give them, even when they're threatened with bombings. I have seen fathers who have lost all their children pick orphans up into their arms and proclaim them their child so they are not alone. I have seen men and boys digging pets out of the rubble.

the men are innocent too. the men and boys are being hurt and killed too. the men and boys are grieving too. the men and boys are scared too. the men and boys are fighting to save their people too. the men and boys deserve to be fought for too.

#I don't have words to describe how I feel for the men of Palestine #the things I have seen them do after everything they have been through goes so far beyond selfless #what do you call this? this prevailing goodness and willingness to give everything they have and more? what word even touches it? #I don't think there is one #islamophobia has conditioned us to see these men and boys as evil and dangerous #we see this in how we speak about Palestine #and we need to uncondition ourselves #they're just as innocent and of value and good as the women and children #so fight for them #they don't deserve this any more than the women and children #free palestine #palestine

[selormohene]

day 69 (sunday, september 10th 2023)

(Posting Monday afternoon. Sunday was quite the day.)

On intellectual generosity. If there's one thing I've always been proud of about my constitution of mind (to say so myself), or at least something that I've seen and admired in others which I'm happy about having in myself to the extent that I do, it's been that I've tried to pursue what I'd call an intellectually generous outlook, or a spirit of charity. It manifests in a number of intellectual virtues. For instance: a willingness to dismiss bad arguments for a conclusion you're inclined towards, and to give credit to good arguments for conclusions you're inclined to reject (as Anscombe did to Lewis' arguments for miracles, which I seem to remember was described somewhere as her having given comfort to the devil); a willingness to reconsider one's opinions in the face of contradictory evidence; the ability to grant that various positions outside one's ideological window are, if not serious options, then at least options that serious people could come to hold; a nuanced understanding of one's own contingency and fallibility, and of the contingency of the intellectual landscape in which one finds oneself; an appreciation of thinkers across various ideological spectra, and especially thinkers who don't fall neatly into ideological spectra; holding positions which are the result of reading such thinkers, or more generally which aren't bound to the somewhat contingent assemblages that define the prevailing ideological boxes of one's situation, and so on. All these, of course, are much enhanced when married to a more general rigour, breadth, curiosity and imaginativeness of thought. Curiously enough, the virtue of intellectual generosity is kind of the sort of thing they teach you to do in principle in philosophy, but when I think of the people who I admire for these virtues philosophers in general aren't necessarily the first or only people that come to mind. (Although sometimes they are, and many of the people who do come to mind are in fact philosophers. Alasdair MacIntyre I think is one person who comes to mind here.) It's more generally philosophy-adjacent thinkers in law, the social sciences, etc.

On libertarianism, systemic normative imposition and personal responsibility. I've been reading the Taking Children Seriously account on Twitter. As I mentioned a few posts back, it rubs me the wrong way. It strikes me as moralising in many ways, which in itself isn't necessarily wrong, but it does so in such a way that it tries to package those parts of traditional parenting advice which it finds valuable into its ideological framework (which reduces everything to coercion and non-coercion) and doesn't sufficiently acknowledge, to my taste, the possible value of more traditional approaches to parenting which would seem to resist being packaged into this framework. But anyway like I said in the other post, and following on the previous paragraph, it's given me a lot to think about, and even if I don't buy the whole "there is no alternative" approach, it's useful to think about the extent to which we fall short of a truly democratic, autonomy-respecting approach to parenting and to which it can be fruitfully integrated into our lives.

But it strikes me that any position in which one is responsible for the welfare of others is one in which, through no fault of one's own, one is given a choice between shouldering personal risk and passing off responsibility. I'm thinking, for instance, about being a teaching assistant (as I am right now), having been delegated responsibility to do certain things which might be unjust, and let's say I wanted to run sections or grading or whatever in a democratic way. Or, rather, I'm facing a choice: I could go according to the book (where the book = the regulations and limits set by the course head and the university, and ultimately the law/the government if we're being spicy), but then I might end up being an instrument for the enactment of injustice, so to speak. Or I could take upon the responsibility of running things in a more just way, so to speak, but then that would mean that I was taking on myself the responsibility (and the risk) for whatever went wrong, setting myself against the people who have delegated responsibility to me. And one has to ask if the sorts of impositions I'm supposed to place on students — like being insistent on homework and so on — are so bad that avoiding them is worth the risk I'd take by not imposing them. But then I also have to think about the allowance that's been given me in the past and the risk that others have taken upon themselves in giving me that allowance, and so on. Ultimately the real way to escape such dilemmas would be to give up the job, but then I'd also have to give up school as a whole, and so on. Imagine dropping out of a PhD because you wanted to run your teaching assistantship in a "more democratic" way.

This is an issue of great significance to me. Because it occurs to me that many such situations in which we find ourselves, we find ourselves in quite beyond our control, and, in any case, even if we have in fact chosen to put ourselves in such situations, many of them are such that we can't give them up without great personal loss. We are born into such thick and tangled webs of obligation and responsibility to others, and it seems like the only way to be completely free of such moral hazard would be to drop out of life entirely. And it seems to me that this sort of approach to moral hazard is exactly what Christ counsels in the gospels, to leave everything and everyone behind, even your father and mother and brothers, all your worldly possessions, everything whatsoever, and follow God. And then to preach to others who will also do the same, and whom, their having done the same, you will therefore be able to commune with again because your relationship to each other will be so transformed by God that it will be completely free of such moral hazard. And that would be the realisation of the kingdom of God on earth. I really want to be able to pull off the Brako story in which I go into this point of view in greater depth.

A nice thing about philosophy is that it gives you greater inferential depth and distance. Philosophy basically distills things like the forms of thought in their greatest purity and generality, so if you're trained in philosophy you can think a lot further than other people would who may have all sorts of expertise but not at the same level of generality, or who may be well-versed in a certain model for thinking about particular realms of the world but don't necessarily have as much of a synoptic or synthetic approach, or who may have such an approach but don't necessarily have a sense of where it sits in the realm of alternatives, or more generally of its meta-position in the intellectual landscape. But of course the greatest way to harness that power is to combine it with extensive subject-level expertise, ideally in a wide range of subjects.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

tw for mentions of death and injury for this one lads!! but on the flip side of that, i finally wrote actual cassunzel interactions, yaay

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 6 - FIGHT/BATTLE

Cassandra tries not to worry Rapunzel too much.

If she had it her way, Rapunzel would never have to know about a single dangerous situation she ends up in, whether its by accident or diving in with both feet. Unfortunately scars are telling, and if Cass doesn't give her an honest play-by-play Rapunzel will be up til the early hours in agonies over the dangerous life she is living out on the road. So, like a good girlfriend should, Cass measures the kind of exploits she should tell Rapunzel about in her letters with whether or not she has sustained injury. Anything more serious than a scratch and she'll tactfully leave it a secret until the next time she's within the palace walls.

So when she runs into Vex on the road a few miles north of Vardaros, she figures this will just be another one of those events that she'll paraphrase in a strait-laced letter to Raps. Perhaps she will share some good-natured sparring with the townsfolk, pal around with Vex, taste-test some fresh honey from Quaid; all the fun, low-stakes stuff. She only intends on stopping over in Vardaros to stock up on supplies and take it from there – but upon her and Vex arriving back at the sheriff's office, she's met with the sight of three men hanging from the bridge overhead, being fished down by stricken townspeople simply wanting to remove the sight lest it scare away travelling patrons.

“Raiders,” Quaid says solemnly from behind her, as Cass watches on in muted horror. Vex strides ahead, avoiding looking at the sight altogether. “We chased a group of them out of town two weeks ago. Yesterday they struck again, so I sent a trio of our new town guard to scope out their base. And, well... it looks like they wanted to send a message home this time.”

Cass feels sick to her stomach. She's no stranger to how fucked up the world can be, especially since striking out on her own, but this is something she can't simply stand by and watch.

“What's your next move, Captain?” she asks quietly, following him towards the sheriff's office. From somewhere beyond her line of sight, she hears a man crying as his husband's body is lifted down.

“We fight, of course,” he says gravely. He takes a seat at his desk and mops his brow tiredly. “But with three of our men down, I'm not sure how well we'll fare in the fight. Our town guard is small as it is, and those raiders are ruthless. But the people of Vardaros don't back down. Not anymore.”

“I... I could write back to Corona,” Cass says quickly, grasping at straws for a way to aid the situation. “The guard there is huge, I'm sure Eugene wouldn't mind deploying a dozen or so soldiers to assist...”

“Wow. And here I was, thinking you were the only one of your friends that understood how things work here,” Vex snorts, as the front door slams shut behind her. She stalks past Cassandra, leaning back against the wall with a deep scowl.

Quaid shakes his head and smiles wanly at her suggestion. “I don't need to tell you of all people that Corona to Vardaros is at least a four day journey on horseback. We have no time to waste. The next time they come knocking, we have to be prepared to fight, no matter the cost.”

“Then I'll fight.” Owl hoots nervously on her shoulder, and Fidella, though resting just outside, looks equally perturbed by the notion of sticking around. “Captain, I have been training for my whole life. Whatever these raiders have planned, I can at least help even the score.”

He watches her with narrowed, haunted eyes. “Your life will be at risk. This is no game, Cassandra.”

“Of course it isn't! People are being killed, Captain, you can't seriously expect that I would sit back and watch this happen?”

“I only insist that you understand what you're getting yourself into, Cassandra.” He folds his arms, regarding her in silence for several dragging seconds, all while Vex mutters some choice expletives under her breath. “If you understand that and still wish to fight alongside us... I would be more grateful than you'll ever know.”

“I'll do it,” Cass promises. “You can count on me.”

…

Things move quickly after that. Vex gathers the townsfolk in the square to rally the locals into fighting for what's right. The people of Vardaros, beyond infuriated by the hangings that morning, are already fired up and ready to fight. For her part, Cass runs through basic drills – calling for everyone to bring forth their weaponry, teaching basic attack stances, offensive and defensive manoeuvres, everything she thinks she can squeeze into an afternoon. The idea that she is potentially sending these people to their deaths depending on how well she's taught them is nothing short of terrifying; but Quaid seems relieved at her assistance, and takes the valuable time to discuss strategy with his remaining guard.

They will defend Vardaros at any cost. They surrender to nobody. And Cass can't help thinking, despite her willingness to fight alongside them, that this mindset coupled with the minimal planning and inexperienced fighters is how entire civilisations get wiped off the map.

That night, while the townspeople grab a few precious hours of sleep, uncertain of when exactly the raiders are planning on striking next, Cass finds herself restless. Despite Vex and Quaid's dual pessimism, she finds herself reaching into her satchel for a pen and paper anyway.

Hey Raps,

It's funny that I should write to you now, when I never like to worry you on my journey. But Vardaros is in trouble, and I think that if you wake Eugene as soon as you get this, send out a dozen or so men as soon as you can, you might just be able to help. The town is being threatened by raiders, and it's bad. I'm going to fight with them, but I don't know that we'll prevail. Not to be an alarmist, but please, send some assistance. I really think we'll need it.

Captain Quaid believes that Vardaros is beyond outside help, but all I've been able to think about today is something my father once said to me: 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' Well, here I am, trying to do SOMETHING. I only hope that it's enough.

I love you, and I don't want these people to die. I'll write again soon.

Sincerely yours, Cassandra.

“Owl,”  she murmurs, so not to wake Vex, lightly snoring against her shoulder. Owl looks up, eyes blinking rapidly. “I need you to get this to Corona as fast as you can. You know how important this is.”

She binds the letter and hands it over, and Owl bows his head a little, meeting her gaze. There's an unspoken feeling there – be safe, don't you dare get yourself killed – and then with a quiet hoot he launches himself from her arm, making his exit through a window pane missing its glass. She watches him until he leaves her sight and then exhales.

Well, if she does end up dying tomorrow, at least she can do so knowing she tried her hardest to help this town. And, a thought equally as comforting, she can accept dying as long as Raps knows she loves her.

All that's left to do now is shut her eyes and wait for sleep to take hold.

…

A lot of things happen that day, in the battle that historical records will one day refer to as The Great Strike Back of Vardaros. Nearly three hundred people lose their lives. Most of them, in a twist of events, happen to be the raiders.

The landslide victory comes without the help of any outside soldiers, save for one brave drifter who, despite the dismissal of the the captain, sent out a pleading message to the nearby kingdom of Corona the night before, begging for reinforcements. It doesn't bring any soldiers in time to assist in the fight; however, they turn up in spades to help the clean-up operation and bury the dead, all in awe at how well a small, untrained town of people could hold its own just out of sheer spite towards the enemy.

In Cassandra's case, the majority of this information is learned days later – when she awakens, weak and confused, in a dimly lit room that she soon comes to realise is one of the town's makeshift hospitals for casualties of the battle.

It takes a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, but when she finally tilts her head to the left hand side of her Cassandra spots a petite figure slumped back in a chair beside her, chest rising and falling as she dreams.

Rapunzel.

Cass lies there in stunned silence, unable to peel her eyes away from the sight of her girlfriend dozing beside her. It's almost enough to distract from the pain she's in, but as she grows more and more alert it's glaringly clear to her that something bad happened.

“Cass, you're awake!” Vex bounds over to her bed and Rapunzel snorts a little at the noise, eyes blinking sleepily, opening and closing a few times before ultimately closing again, losing their battle with the tiredness plaguing her head. The relief on Vex's face only makes it more obvious to Cass that the injury must have been pretty damn awful. “God, I – shit, it's good to see you're awake. How's your wound?”

“I... hmm. It hurts,” she grits out. “I, uh, don't really remember anything.”

“Yeah, I bet. You, uh, got hit over the head pretty hard in the fight. And, er... got yourself impaled on the way down.”

“Well, fuck.” Cass doesn't really know what else she's supposed to say to that. Now that Vex mentions it, she does remember the searing pain from the blow to the head. She's just grateful she was too out of it from the blunt force trauma alone to feel the impalement. “God. How'd I make it out of that one alive?”

“Quaid said you're just someone who isn't ready to die yet,” Vex says with a shrug. “Sounds like a total cop-out to me, but you're alive, so who cares how?”

“Seriously, Vex, I should probably be dead right now.”

“Then shut up and just be thankful that you're not.” Vex's eyes narrow, her patience for Cassandra's bewilderment waning already. “We patched your abdomen wound up fine, and we gave you some stitches on the back of your head too. That was like two days ago, though.”

Cass blanches. “Shit. Two days?” She glances over to Rapunzel, who is only just starting to wake up properly. “And when did Raps get here?”

“Few hours after the battle was over. She came in this huge balloon thing, you wouldn't believe it. She said the captain had to stay back to watch over Corona but she still brought like, eight guards with her in the balloon to help us treat the injured. Rapunzel barely left your side once she found your bed, though.” A sly smile creeps up on her. “Must be nice, having your girlfriend come to watch over you.”

“Can it, you.” Cass can barely keep her eyes off of Rapunzel, though, as she yawns and stretches. “Raps?”

“Mhmm... Vex?”

“That wasn't me,” Vex says flatly. With that, Rapunzel's eyes snap open and she whirls around to see Cass.

“CASS!! Oh my gosh, Cassandra!”

Before Cass even has a chance to try to sit up Rapunzel leaps from her seat, tackling her with such a force that it sends a spike of pain through her stomach, in what she guesses is the sensation of her wound being jostled. Raps squeezes her tight, rocking a little. Next come the kisses, peppered all over her face as she laughs weakly in protest. Vex makes an exaggerated puking sound effect, and Cass waves her off with a roll of her eyes. But as Rapunzel goes back to hugging her, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra's neck, she feels her body begin to tremble.

“Hey,” murmurs Cass, reaching up to rub Rapunzel's back in a soothing motion. “Hey, come on, it's all right.”

Rapunzel shakes her head, and her voice is wet when she speaks. “It's not all right! Cass, you could have died! You've barely been conscious for two days, my god!”

“Raps...” Cass gently steers her back by the shoulders and Rapunzel watches her, large eyes brimming over with tears. Reaching up, Cass thumbs them away and tries to smile in a way that will convince Rapunzel that she really is okay. “I'm all right now, really. Sure, my head is a little sore and I'll need to take it easy until my wound heals up, but look. I'm here with you now.”

Rapunzel sniffles and moves back, nodding. She pulls her chair right up close to the bed before sitting down again, reaching over to take Cassandra's hand in her own and turning to Vex.

“Vex. Would you mind, um... giving us a moment?”

“Oh, no problem, I was feeling queasy anyway,” she drawls. Despite her tone, Vex flashes them a small smile and nod before leaving to check on a man four beds to Cassandra's right. Cass exhales and squeezes Rapunzel's hand, pushing herself upright into a semi-sitting position. It's painful on her torso, but she just feels dizzier trying to hold this conversation lying down.

“I'm sorry for worrying you. I... I didn't think you would come, though. I only meant that we needed back-up out here.”

“I didn't come on official business, Cass,” Rapunzel begins, reaching up to wipe at her eyes again. “I mean, I came to help, of course, but – but god, Cass, how could you send that to me and not expect me to freak out?!”

“Uh.” Cass chews her lip. “I don't know. I hoped you'd overlook the part about me being there and just, uh, focus on the part about rallying the troops.”

Rapunzel sighs loudly, eyes still shining with tears, and Cass feels her stomach drop. Geez, Raps is still mad.

“Cassandra,” Rapunzel says slowly, as if to spell it out for her, “you wrote that you desperately needed reinforcements. You wrote that you were going to fight, but you weren't confident that you would win. And you actually wrote the words 'I love you'. In ink. In a letter that you knew I would be showing other people.”

Cass nods just as slowly.

“...Cass, it sounded like a goodbye! Don't you think? How did you expect me to – to just stay put, in Corona, knowing you were here and you might be dying?!”

“I said I'd write again soon,” Cass protests, but it's a weak defence and she knows it. “That part was supposed to be reassuring. I didn't want you to worry, but-”

“But you don't get to decide for me if I should be worried, Cass! We are in love, and if you think for one moment that I wouldn't come to you if I had even an inkling that you could be hurt...!”

“I know,” croaks Cass. “I know, Raps, shit. I know. I'm – I'm sorry.”

Now it's her turn to well up. She looks away, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, trying to make it look like she's fiddling with her hair. Rapunzel lets her keep her pride.

“I didn't come all this way to yell,” Rapunzel promises. “...Well, all right, I did a tiny bit. Cass, I know I can't tell you to stop doing this, I just want you to be careful.”

“I am careful, Raps, but these people were in trouble. Do you think I should have stayed out of it?”

“No,” sighs Rapunzel, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Of course not. Even if I did it's not your way of doing things, I know that. I would have done the same. It doesn't stop me from wishing you would value your life a little more, though.”

“I swear to you, I don't plan on getting myself killed when I get into fights like this,” Cass emphasises, reaching up to cup Rapunzel's cheek. “I'm sorry for scaring you.”

She leans forward and, with Rapunzel's eyes flickering to her lips receptively, kisses her softly. Rapunzel returns the enthusiasm and Cass realises, in a real moment of panic, that she might never have kissed Rapunzel again.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Rapunzel whispers, before kissing Cass again. “I love you so much.”

“I'm really sorry,” Cassandra utters, trembling as Rapunzel pulls her in close. “And I love you too, Raps.”

#cassandra appreciation week #cassandra week #tangled the series #tts #cassunzel #rapunzel #tts cassandra

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (7)

Word Count: 11,126 // angst (mention of physical abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of physical harm, weapons), smut (unsafe sex practice, blowjob, rimjob, fingering, cumplay), a hint of fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for waiting so long omg the universe was set on sabotaging my fanfiction career but I prevailed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I’m looking forward to the responses - 🐰

Playlist: The Very Gentle Lovers

‘I don’t love you anymore, Jungkook’

‘What?’ He looks up from his camera.

‘I said I don’t love you,’ you repeated, brushing your locks away with the back of your hand while you turn towards Seokjin, standing next to the television. ‘I’ve…I’ve been with Jin all along. He makes me feel complete, he makes me feel like a woman.’

He stands, the pencil falling from his fingers, looking between you and the man that didn’t belong in your apartment he called his safe haven.

‘N-noona what do you…mean? I-I’ve been good, haven’t I? I did everything you told me to. I-I,’ He panics, his breath catching in his throat as his hands begin to shake, sweat pooling in his palms.

You shake your head. ‘I’m sorry, Kookie.’ You lean forward and cup him softly on the cheek with one hand. He melts into your touch like butter, but before he can ask if you’ll change your mind, you’re moving away.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re just too immature for me-’

‘I’ll do anything!’

‘-and I just think it’s best that I move in with Jin. He takes care of me,’ you smile at the broken hearted boy.

‘Noona please,’ he begs but his feet are glued to the ground.

He watches helplessly as you slide your hands in the crook of Jin’s arms with intimate familiarity. You roll your eyes at the tears streaking down his eyes as he begins to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he’s about the same height as your knees.

His cries turn into wails, the pitch of his voice rising and rising. There’s an iron man figurine in his hand and his other little fist flies up to his face to wipe his tears away.

‘Mama, don’t leave me!’ Jungkook wails. ‘Mama I’ll be good! I won’t be bad a-anymore! I won’t ask to play anymore!’

The door slams shut.

‘Mama!’

Jungkook startles awake, his fists taught on the bedsheets beneath him.

Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. Heavy breaths. Heavy heartbeats.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dream as painfully vivid as this one. Ever since he’d moved in with you and found the pleasure of holding you close every night, his nightmares lessened. It was a rather strange phenomenon but one thing he was sure about: you are his only remedy. He knows for sure now that calling Taehyung was the right decision. The man had told him to sleep on the idea first before confirming because this plan he’d brewed up over a single car ride could change your life – his life – forever. There’s no going back afterwards. The thought makes him queasy but ignites a flame deep in his core as well, because he knows no matter what Seokjin might pull, he’ll be four steps ahead. The prick must’ve thought he wouldn’t act so quick but no, oh no no no, he doesn’t wait around for things to get worse when it comes to you. You’re a woman after all. Your heart is fragile and innocent; it must be protected away from the claws of men that won’t love you the way he does.

It was distressful to bear witness to the filth you’ve been interacting with at your office behind his back. It was his woman that willingly went to Kim Seokjin for coffee. Jungkook couldn’t deny that you’re just as guilty as that prick, but he’s willing to forgive you as your doe eyes told him all he needed to know about your obliviousness.

Seokjin must’ve been nudging his way through your heart every morning you arrive at that suffocating building, preying upon your kindness, your willingness to stimulate a conversation with just about anyone out of curiosity. This eagerness of yours had scared him ever he’d first laid eyes on you. You really have no idea that men melt at any attention you give them.

Jungkook also notices well enough that the rest of the employees walked into the office right on the clock, apathetic about punctuality in contrast. They’re not as responsible as you are, as pure, as lovely. He knows for sure that your useless need to arrive to your job at least ten minutes early gave Seokjin the extra ten minutes to fantasize about you.  

His fists shook just thinking about you sharing a cup of coffee with a man that obviously wanted to pull you away from your precious boyfriend who was waiting so diligently at home, alone, frightened.

“Stupid fucking homewreckers…” he mutters underneath his breath, like a mantra.

He runs his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp as he leans into your side of the bed, inhaling the scent of your perfume and swallowing his pain down to let it settle in his stomach like disease. He curls into a ball, repeating the three words over and over again, head hurting, another voice mingling with his: his mother’s.

Liar!

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

He presses an elbow onto the mattress and propped himself up, looking around the bedroom once more. Birds chirped gingerly outside the window and the freshly laundered curtains swayed gently with the salty wind. How come the room seems so peaceful and silent while he was rotting away on the inside, losing every bet he casted, finding no water in the midst of a desert? You are what made this bedroom feel like home. Your smiles, your touches, your eyes on him and him only. He longed for your warmth to come in this time when he needed you the most.

Jungkook slides his hand towards his neck and pops the first button before tugging the cotton over his head. He relishes in the warmth the golden sunlight offered on his firm skin; a cheap substitute compared to your touch. He looked around the room once more in daze, then softly tossed the shirt on top of the vanity where your perfume collection lay. His eyes caught your dresser and he was immediately stomping over to the heavy cherrywood furniture, his arms pulling the very bottom drawer towards him.

Your underwear lay neatly layered across the interior, color-coded from the lightest shade to the deepest. Jungkook knew your intimates very well for he took upon the responsibility of handwashing the delicates and removing any blood stains during your menstrual cycles. He organized the collection as well and familiarized himself with each color and design, noting which fabric you preferred and which kind of strap dug into your back.

His fingers grazed over the cups; one pearl set, two vanilla sets, one lilac, two beige, two peachy, one pale pink (his favorite), and three black. Off to the side of the well-made sets were the plain white cotton underwear and sport bras you wore on a near daily basis. He counted the pairs, totaling exactly twelve. One of the designer sets is missing and it dawned on him that you wore the subdued golden set he’d seen in Namjoon’s villa when he’d risked sneaking into your room. He couldn’t recount the amount of times he’d traced the gentle embroidery with the tips of his fingers, admired it on your body as the cups hugged your breasts just right.

His spine prickles with sweat when it dawns on him that you wore it to office today. Underneath those modest clothes you wore something extremely special – expensive too – for work. But it simply didn’t make sense to him. You walk around your office all day, scrambling for this and that, on the phone with a client, in a meeting, organizing files after checking basic calculations. It’s not the type of place you’d wear lingerie to unless …

Unless you wanted attention, you wanted someone to notice, someone that’s not your boyfriend, someone new, someone handsome.

Kim Seokjin

Shit, shit, shit!

The evidence was damning. Jungkook couldn’t deny it any longer; you slipped through his fingers just like that. Just some time ago you were feeding him sugared words with how you’ll only love him, want him, take him. Now that the routine is back, you’re looking for someone new!

It was rich of you to avoid his advances in your office when you were strutting for Seokjin. He knows that look on your face when you’re needy; your lips pouty, pupils dilated, cheeks pink, hair slightly tousled like you slipped out of bed. He reveled in the fact that after your little promiscuous phase, he was the only man that had the pleasure of seeing that face. It didn’t sit well that Jin has probably witnessed it at some point these past few days and he felt like an idiot for slacking off his grip on you. He can tell that you haven’t slept with Jin as you couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag when he interrogates, but it could easily become reality any day.

Jungkook knew one hundred percent for sure that he must follow through the plan he made with Taehyung. He must!

Tears brim in his eyes and he quickly blink it away, but to no avail, they start flooding. Like a child, Jungkook sits in front of the drawer, rubbing his wet eyes with his fists, small whimpers and sobs shaking his nail-marked back. Just when he thought he can be happy with you something always goes wrong. Even when you hurt him, make him sick, turn his insides sour, he doesn’t have the heart to blame you for wanting another man.

It’s alright, Jungkook tells himself, because he’ll be better for you.

It can be anything. Maybe you hated the breakfast he made two mornings ago (because he noticed the way you grimaced at the dried cranberries). Maybe you hated the detergent he used (because it accidentally left a small gray stain in the lining of your favorite blazer). Maybe you hated that he forgot to water the plants regularly and the leaves became limp. He’ll have to set a few alarms to make sure he can avoid making any mistakes. It wasn’t that long since he’d broken Kim Namjoon’s nose (which was well-deserved, in his opinion) so he’s treading on thin ice.

Jungkook slides the drawer back into its rightful compartment and clears his throat, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm before moving into your closet. It was one of his pride and joys; the ability to touch what you will be wearing for the day. The closet had two walls with built-in stainless-steel poles on both walls. The left, yours, the right, his. Compared to his side – consisting mostly of white shirts and various types of jeans – your side was much more colorful and a bit of a mess too. He shook his head, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. No matter how much he cleans it ends in a mess; such a clumsy girlfriend you are.

Jungkook pushes the coats to one side to reveal the wooden box behind. He scrapes the wood along the matte cabinet below, pushing the black lacquered lid aside with the flick of his thumb along the metal lip. It was a poor organization system but he assumes the box holds enough sentimental value for its beauty to outweigh the inconvenience. After all, he’s seen photographs of your grandmother with the same box in her wrinkled hands – no doubt a precious family heirloom.

Thankfully, he found the papers he needed in the third plastic file (thank goodness you at least portioned the stack) and flipped through the white sheets.

Your recent blood test is perfect, although your iron levels could be a little higher, and the ear infection from last year seems to be the only stumble you’ve had in a while. You had a regular check up with Dr. Kwon two months ago and you are as fit as an average woman can be. You aren’t due for another check up at the gynecologist until December, which gives him a great time to go ahead with his plan. It was a miracle that birth control pills worked better for you than an IUD because Taehyung had explained that there’s no getting around an inserted copper. Who knew that those lovely tablets you take on the daily would be the gateway to heaven?

Taehyung had clarified he’ll need two weeks at most to replicate the pills down to its exact color, taste, and size. Placebo pills aren’t exactly difficult to make but making a batch of fifty would take considerable time and patience amidst a busy schedule. Surpassing security was another issue but Jungkook wasn’t too worried about it when Jimin can pull a few strings with the guys at the dock. If everything goes well, you’ll never be able to leave his side again.

There was only a twenty percent chance of a woman conceiving after an intercourse and Jungkook was running out of time. He’s got competition and Jungkook doesn’t take any challenges lightly, especially one that concerns his place in your life.

If he wants to get you pregnant, he’ll need to be on his best behavior, and most importantly, get the timing right.

He folds the paper at its seams before sliding it into the plastic file. He then places it back into the box before clasping the lid shut. He’s got a considerable amount of research to do to make sure you have the greatest chance of falling pregnant; he can vaguely remember the article of a study finding that women who eat yams during unprotected sex can increase the chance of giving birth to twins but-

A click yanks Jungkook away from his thoughts to the box in his hands. The bottom inch of the box slides to the left in the complete opposite direction of the lid, and it is with great wonder that he discovers there’s a small switch underneath the box hidden from view that had unlatched when he dragged the box towards him.

The first detail that caught his eye was the luxurious red velvet lining that coated all sides of the hidden compartment. He can tell it’s been well-loved by its lack of stains or rips despite having survived an entire generation. The second shocker? The pearl and diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings that lay on top of the fabric. He can immediately tell this was something you couldn’t afford on your own. It was impossible that you purchased this with your father’s inheritance money as you had told him before you were saving the money for emergencies or when you want to settle down somewhere for good.

It must be your grandmother’s jewelry.

He bit his trembling bottom lip and uncoiled the heavy diamond necklace from the collection, watching the diamonds glimmer under the bright closet light. God how he wished his bank account didn’t stay so barren every month. Each gem was at least two carats and there was about eighty lining the length of the necklace from one end to the next. He could sink to the bottom of the ocean from its pure weight.

Before he can entertain himself with the thought of seeing you in this necklace with nothing else, like in Titanic, his absolute favorite romantic movie, he caught the initials on the small clasp where the two ends meet.

KNJ

Jungkook squeezed the necklace in his fist so hard the world’s strongest material would have surrendered had he not given into his broken heart. He holds his shaking shoulders, digging the diamonds into his naked biceps, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Your feet ached in your loafers. Having to deal with Jungkook’s jealousy so early in the morning, then getting your head chewed off by your boss in front of your coworkers, and then suffering through the embarrassment of having Seokjin buy you lunch because you lost your debit card had steam blowing out both ears by the time you pulled in the driveway of your apartment complex. The bite mark on your shoulder still hasn’t healed and you are trying your hardest to not let the day’s bitterness get to you by complaining to your boyfriend about it. The mark was oddly romantic but after he threw a nasty glare at your best friend of two decades, you finally understand Jungkook does a lot of unnecessary things out of jealousy under the pretense of romance.

Is he really as kind as you think he is or is he kind because he wants you to be docile and forgiving after every slip up?

You shake your head. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and most of all, you want to cuddle with your cozy boyfriend after a long day. The day is just getting to your head, that’s all.

Just as you lock your car and make your way to the elevator, rain begins to pour, small droplets thundering on the lunchbox in your hand, and then falling all at once. Your feet stomped against the concrete as you break into a job towards the elevator, watching the old man that lived down the hall drying himself inside.

“Please hold!” You call out but the old man only turns to look at you, making no attempt to keep the doors open and so you watch pathetically as the silver doors close and the elevator makes its way up to the same floor you live in.

As if your day couldn’t get worse, the lift is transparent enough for the old prick to watch you get more and more soaked as he makes his way up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter under your breath as you curse not only at the old man but the way the elevator was built to be out in the open. They really couldn’t afford to put a little roof in front of the doors? The security guard in the booth next to the elevator didn’t even stir when lighting flashes, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. The building owner had the money to hire a useless guard but not enough to buy a twenty-dollar picnic umbrella from a thrift shop.

Amazing.

By the time you reach the front door of your apartment, you’re completely soaked from head to toe. You place the lunch box on top of the shoe cabinet and slip out of your loafers, wiping your feet on the door mat. Then you remove your cashmere top and skirt, shivering at the coolness of your apartment. You wring your hair on the door mat – a disgusting habit – in hopes of not bringing any moisture into the house more than you need to.

Grabbing Jungkook’s dry coat from the rack drilled next to the doorsteps, you wrap the warm material around you and make your way into the kitchen, throwing the wet clothes onto the kitchen counter.

“Jungkookie?” You look into the kitchen, expecting him to pop out from behind the polished cabinets with two glasses of wine.

You turn your head from side to side, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed him crouching near the balcony doors.

“Kookie?” You asked again and only upon stepping closer did you notice the familiar box on the floor next to his feet, your necklaces wrapped around his fingers like snakes.

Faster than lighting you dive for his hand, the rush of madness fueling your veins to the point that you thought about shoving him towards the balcony where rain continued to pour just to hurt him. Jungkook watches you with bloodshot eyes, teeth gritted and fists tight as he pulls the jewelry out of reach.

“Those are mine!” You shouted, reaching for the diamonds as he keeps one free hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“You lied to me,” he snarls, his voice quiet yet you can feel his raw anger vibrate in your bones. His voice was unusually low and heavy, a complete one-eighty from the whiny boyfriend you’re used to.

“You had no right going through my stuff, Jungkook,” you glare, angry tears falling onto his lap, “this is my privacy!”

“You fucking lied to me,” he sobs, his voice rising. “I wanted to surprise you and clean your closet so you didn’t have to be stressed in the morning, noona,” he squeezes your shoulder as you reach for the jewelry again. “And I-I dropped your box by accident, I swear it was an accident. I was so afraid you were going to be mad at me-”

You growl, your eyes fixated on the jewelry.

“-but then I see that you’ve been LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” He roars and stands, dragging you up by the shoulders with him. “You’ve been hiding EVERYTHING!”

“I didn’t lie,” you seethed, the day’s exhaustion melting off of you, “these are my jewelry, my gifts.”

He scoffs, lips pulling in a sneer. “You’re really keep pretending, noona?”

You’re not sure what aspect of his question peeled your eyes away from his jewel clad fist. It could’ve been the hurt in his voice or the fact that you were both soaked and angry. It could also have been the height difference, the way you notice you’re never going to be able to reach for his fist as he is taller, stronger, bigger.

It wasn’t until you feel the sting on your palm that you realized you’d slapped him across the face, silencing the room until all you can hear is his soft little hiccups. You’ve never laid your hands on another person until Jungkook came along. Hell, you threw an entire tantrum in grade school when riding a horse because you didn’t want to spank its behind to make it run. You’re not sure where this cruelty come from or how it manifested into a disease that grew in your hands. The last time you hit Jungkook, he was doing everything he can to protect you.

You only realize now that he was trying to do the same. In his own way, through his own insecurities, he was trying to rid Kim Namjoon’s fingerprints from your history. It wasn’t his fault that he’s blinded by rage because at the end of the day, it’s because he cares.

He loves you, and you take advantage of it.

No wonder Namjoon left you.

You’re selfish.

You’re blind.

You’re poison.

You dare to raise your eyes back up to his face from your hands and immediately sink into the blackness of his eyes. Regret immediately claims you like an eager death.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m-” you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t respond.

Jungkook’s tears steadily fall while his lips are pulled taught. If you can touch his heart, you’re sure it’s pounding against his ribcage.

“…It’s never enough for you is it?” He asks in a voice that you’ve never heard before. “No matter how long I wait for you to come around, no matter how I’ll kill for you, how I’ll give you anything – anything – you ask for…you’re never going to love me as much as you love him, huh? You’d rather love a cheater than someone who will do any-fucking-thing you ask like a servant.” He grits his teeth. “Then go. Go back to that prick and don’t come looking when want my company but not me.”

Jungkook throws the necklace into the box laying haphazardly next to the open balcony door and turns, walking towards the shared bedroom to, you assume, fetch his clothes.

You shake your head desperately, your mouth unable to move on its own. “Kookie I’m-”

Before you can wrap your head around his words you’re running to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You were exhausted beyond belief, angry beyond belief, desperate beyond belief to keep the only light in your life that you keep dimming and dimming over again like you’re determined to sabotage your happiness. You don’t deserve him yet you’re selfish enough to reel him back him, choosing every weapon of choice: begging, kissing, touching, crying.

“Jungkook I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” you cry, tightening your arms around his naked chest as you shake, cheek pressed up against his cold skin. “I’m sorry I h-hit you I’m sor-ry th-that I was upset, I didn’t mean to I swear Kookie please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I’m sorry,” you whimper, holding still even when he attempts to shrug you off of him. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough you are more than enough, you’re everything I can ever ask for, I love you, god I love you and I’m sorry Kookie please, I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’ll survive if he leaves. Everyone in your life leaves eventually; Namjoon, Yori, your parents, your friends, everyone. Jungkook is your pillar and your giver; a giver of dreams and affection. Your boyfriend with a heart of gold that is as fragile as glass yet it beats everyday for you. You’re a fucking fool to break someone so kind just because you’re having a bad day.

Jungkook has had his own share of bad days yet he comes home with a smile just for you. His meals were cooked full of love, his caresses on your scalp full of care and concern. How could you think about hitting someone as precious as him over a few diamonds and pearls? Are you really so vain that you’re willing to step over the person who loves you the most just to hold onto expensive memories? He’s worth more than everything in that little box of yours.

“Baby,” you sniffle, “I love you…I don’t care what you want to do with it…throw it away, toss it over the balcony…I don’t care.” You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of rain dripping down his broad back. “I just want you.” You worship his skin through a kiss.

Jungkook keeps his lips pulled taught, eyes narrowed on the doorknob to the master bedroom. He’s going to end it once it for all, this maddening habit of yours of hanging onto other men. Seokjin is a fucking prick that wants to get into your pants. Namjoon is a filthy rich brat that bought your heart years before. He’s had enough of it.

He’ll make sure today will be the last day you’ll hit him over a man. Today will be the last day you’ll think of him as more than just a lovesick puppy that wags his tail for your entertainment.

He’ll show you that he’s a man.

“You better keep your word this time,” he turns and you take a small step back, knees trembling when he cocks his head to one side and glares are you through his inky wet bangs. “Because you don’t want to know what will happen if I find anything, and I mean anything, noona, that belongs to him in our apartment. Do you hear me?” He demands, making you nod shakily as you back away after every step he takes towards you until the bottom of your shoulder blades brush against the kitchen counter. “I’ll drain that pig over a bucket if you put him over me ever again, do you know that?”

You nod again, hanging onto every word.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

“Y-yes!” You put your hands on his chest. “There’s really nothing left, Kookie-ah, I promise, I-”

He hushes you with his lips, tilting your head to one side to deepen the kiss. His tongue, slippery and wet, snakes over yours with the intent to harm, the muscle pulling your mouth painfully close to his that your lips would surely bruise the next morning. It doesn’t matter. You’re willing to take what you can get because you’ve come so close to losing everything tonight.

All because of one bad workday.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he scoops you up in his arms, helping you wrap your legs around his waist so your pulsing heat can rest against his taught stomach. He undoes the small knot you secured the coat with and push the heavy fabric away from your shoulders, watching you shimmy your way out.

Cute.

He used to pepper your face with kisses, giggling when you brush your nose over his jaw and tongue his ear to tickle him as he laughs. Not tonight; tonight, he’ll make you work for it, let you walk around in his shoes.

You cup his chiseled face in your hands, admiring how angelic he looks even when his furrowed brows remain as a residue of his rage. Your cookie, your heart, your bunny. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, admiring the very small scar on his left cheekbone that told the public that no, he’s not a walking sculpture but a human being who might as well be Rodin’s ideal muse. He’s ethereal from afar and alien up close. The way his eyes held so much power, like the edges of a supernova black hole distorting your reality until all you can focus on is the darkness that lulls you inside its abyss.

“I waited for you my whole life,” he whispers and you almost didn’t hear over the rain rattling the open balcony doors. He leans his inflamed cheek into your palm. “I don’t want to be punished for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes when you lean into him to rest your forehead against his. He heaves a sigh, exhausted too you imagine, and nudges his face closer until his lips brush yours. Even when he wants you to work for his affection, he couldn’t help it but steal a kiss. Your rejection from this morning still damaged his pride.

“I’m the one who deserves to be hurt, not you.” You snake your hands down his chest to his belt and then back up towards his heart. “I’m n-not,” you swallow, “I’m not usually like this, I’ve just had a bad day.” You cast your eyes away. “I’m sorry I l-lied to you about throwing everything that belonged to him away. The necklaces were given to me after I was engaged and I just…I don’t know why I kept it still even though I’ll never wear it but I just…”

You sigh, your watery eyes holding his steel gaze. “I love you. I-I don’t want to lose you Jungkookie,” your lips tremble and you tighten your hold around his neck. “Please don’t leave me…I know I’ve hurt you but please don’t leave, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you tuck your face under his jaw, “if you leave me.”

Jungkook presses his cheek against your wet hair and inhales softly through his nose. He knows you don’t realize how easy it is for him to play on your fears. Your fear of people – of men you love – leaving you, your fear of losing control, doing something you don’t mean. Your perfectionist nature was so easy to work with that he almost wants to toy with you a little more. For a brief moment he enjoys having the upper hand in the relationship. Sometimes it’s exhausting to always be the one that feared for an ugly fight that can lead to the end. It feels healthier to show this side of him a little more so you understand your privilege; after all, it’s not everyday that you’ll find a man who’ll give you a baby just to keep you close.

“There’s nothing I won’t do for you,” you snivel softly in his ear, “I love you so much.”

Jungkook tightens his hold around your waist and drags his feet towards the bedroom door. You hold still, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair.

“Can you please say it back?” You begged pathetically, unable to take his silence any longer. You missed your sweet whiny, clingy, giggly boyfriend, the boyfriend that couldn’t go a single day without telling you how much he loves you.  

Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize he’s still upset.

His strong hands unravel around your hips and he pulls you away, setting your body on the soft, messy mattress. You wipe the moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand and watch him straddle your thighs between his knees, placing the lightest amount of pressure to keep you down. You were still waiting to hear the three magical words but they don’t come.

You messed up this time.

Jungkook pulls the straps of your brassiere down your shoulders, letting you bend at the elbows to bring the embroidered material down to your navel. He reaches behind the curve of your waist and unlatches the bra, throwing it to the side with one hand while the other reaches behind him and tug your panties down your bottom with a harsh tug. You lift your hips against him and let him roll your panties down your thighs, over your knees, and down your ankles. You’ve been in this position many times, but you’ve never felt as naked as you do now.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask with wide, oblivious eyes, wanting to do just about anything to please him. Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“This isn’t for you.”

It hurt more than you thought hearing those words fall from his sweet, pink lips.

He presses his nose against your jugular and nibble on the skin, teeth sharp and painful against the epidermis. You suck in a breath and bite your tongue as he moves to do the same to the opposite side of the neck, meanwhile peeling your legs open to settle his core against your wet center. Your hands stay still on his hard shoulders, moving along with his ministrations to keep yourself grounded to his touch.

A breathy moan brushes past his ears when he latches his teeth onto your left nipple, tonguing the bud into the swollen tissue before wrapping his mouth around the areola. You squirm underneath his body, body warming, ears rushing with blood. His wet jeans rub against your inner thighs to remind you that he’s been near the balcony for god knows how long. He must’ve been so cold, so heartbroken, so betrayed, while you were at work rolling your eyes to Jin poking fun at his jealousy.

Jungkook pulls back to eye the bite mark on your shoulder and the nudge his way towards the opposite breast, practicing the same caresses with the tip of his tongue. You can tell he’s purposely making every flick of tongue as painful as possible for you. You don’t argue because you know you’ll never learn from this mistake if he doesn’t drill it into you.

“You belong to me, noona.”

You exhale and look down at his hands moving towards his belt, tugging the leather apart and pulling the silver button open along with the zipper beneath. It was with great relief that you realize your baby boy is back, even if it’s for the briefest moment, his voice desperate and whiny, just the way you liked it.

You watch the veins on his forearm protrude as he grasps his hardness at the base and smears his dripping precum over the surface. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow as he jacks off to the image of you spread so shamelessly for him, bent knees pulled apart while you pet your swollen nipples with one hand, the other laying limp next to your head in surrender.

“Every part of you is mine,” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, his wet bangs rocking back and forth with every tug of his cock. “You only get to wear what I buy you.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes…”

The loveliest groan escapes his lips when he pushes his weeping tip against your clit, rocking his hips slowly to watch his slick drip onto your thick and curly pubic hair. His eyes follow along your taught stomach up to your navel where, once the time is right, he’ll see it stretch slowly when his child grows inside you. He can already imagine how needy you will be as an expecting mother, how he’ll have the pleasure to palm your aching breasts filled with milk. He thought it was impossible to be as hard as he is already, but the pulsing in his cock hammers blood through the tip and a small spurt of cum falls onto your clit.

He doesn’t give enough time for you to prepare for his length as he rams the head of his cock into your slit, and fucks your body up to the edge of the bed where he holds the side of the mattress and crashes his soaked hips down to your center. You choke on a moan and a scream, fingers grasping his fists as you lift your hips in a bow to accommodate all of him.

“Yes, baby,” you cry, “use me all you want. I’m yours!”

Sweat sticks to his temples and you struggle to wipe away the perspiration when he’s ramming into you so hard your vision blackens. From the tips of your fingers to the ends of the toes, your body vibrates with uncontrollable fire. The head of his cock strikes into your silken walls with the intent to rip you apart from the inside. He’s dripping steadily in you, lacquering your walls with white opalescent cum that feels as scorching hot as his skin.

“Fuck…fuck,” he grips the edge of the mattress harder, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock rests in your cavern, and then slamming himself inside all over again. Your fluids squelch as he enters, dripping over the zipper of his jeans. “It feels so good, noona, you make me feel so good,” he rests his forehead against your bitten shoulder, his hips moving on its own like a piston. Not even a line of coke will feel as good as your pussy does clamping down on his throbbing erection. He swears he can feel your cervix trembling against him.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” you promise, cupping his face while he continues to pout at how little threshold he has for pleasure. You can tell when he’s about to lose control by the way he clenches his eyes shut and the veins on his neck stands for attention. He empties inside with a growl, grinding his hips completely down onto your sex to keep his cum from dripping out. He stays still only for a few seconds to catch his breath.

You couldn’t capture his lips when he pulls away to sit back on his heels and watch the base of his cock pulse slowly until he softens. He pins your knees up to your chest and pulls out before clamping his mouth over your pussy gleaming with his fluids. He gathers the cum between your folds, across your labia and underneath your clit onto the tip of his tongue. Then, spreading your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, he spits onto your hole, his tongue pushing the fluids in further while you squirm and curl your toes into the sheets.

“Jungkook,” you moan in embarrassment, your hand darting up to your face to cover your red cheeks.

As if you couldn’t feel more naked, he chuckles. “You taste the best when you’re shy, noona.”

You catch your breath while watching him tug his soaked jeans down his thighs, the stubborn material slipping off only when he rips the material an inch down its center. Scared that he might still be upset, you pull your body onto your elbows, then onto your knees. It was only when you can sense his forgiveness in the air that you trail your fingers up his arms and towards his shoulders.

“Can you make me cum too?” You tempt him, arching your back while you place his palm onto your heavy breast.

He nods gingerly, captivated by your pink nose and cheeks. You’re so beautiful when you cry; Jungkook has to fight back asking you to call him a good boy. He has the woman of his dreams wanting him to touch her, he couldn’t ask for any other luxury.

“Only if you say please.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile when he sticks his tongue through his cheek at the rejection. Riling him up when he’s pissed is not the best thing to do, but the temptation was hard to resist. Taking back your status as his lover, caretaker, and owner, you push him gently back onto the mattress and throw one leg over his chest, wiggling your bottom while you palm his inner thighs and dig your nails into his hard muscle.

“Please, baby?”

Jungkook traces his thumb down your ass and circles your clit ever so slowly. You wiggle your hips again and sink your mouth down onto his semi-hard cock without warning, making him jump out of his skin and snap his back away as you chase after him. You use your own slick leftover on his solid length to lube your middle finger and rim his tight hole.

“G-god, noona!” He throws his head back into the mattress with a thump, sweat prickling its way down his abdomen, down his happy trail, and into the crook of his thighs.

There’s my baby boy.

You roll your tongue over the tip and keep your teeth tucked as you swallow him. With his curved erection, it was difficult to swallow without triggering your gag reflex but damn it you just wanted to please your boyfriend. Clamping down on the inside of his thighs with your nails to keep him spread, you pull back and spit down his length, regaining a sense of clarity when his tongue curves into your folds once more. If it wasn’t for Jungkook hooking his thick arms around your thighs to keep you locked in place, you would’ve fallen onto his face.

When your knees buckle he pull away, prolonging your orgasm with just the right amount of pressure in your womb to keep you aching.

You grip him hard in a fist and move up and down, pulling his foreskin taught. Your tongue dips between the gap of his balls and circles his tight, blushing hole. His choked whimper tells you all you need to know about where your tongue needed to press. Just when Jungkook tilts his head to the side to see your hair fall over your shoulders, he feels your nail curl slowly into his weeping slit. You look behind when you feel his gaze.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You inquire with the most innocent expression you can muster. He would have came immediately if he wasn’t so enamored with your perfect pussy so close to his tongue.

“D-Don’t, uh, tease me.”

You giggle, watching his eyes glaze over when you pump him harder, the small squelches from his cum making your insides clench with glee.

“Let me watch you cum first,” you whisper and keep pumping whilst grinding your hips down onto his fingers.

Jungkook gathers as much strength as he can and slips his middle and ring finger inside you, unraveling only when he feels his fluids resting on your milky walls. His breath hitches in his throat and every muscle in his body tenses, spurts of his milk catching in your hair, on your lips, and jaw.

You could look at his face forever; his rosy lips parted, the same shade as his cheeks, overwhelmed tears panting his thick lashes, his eyebrows furrowed, his bangs glossy and wavy around his face. Jungkook was an addiction.

Just the sight of him alone makes your wet sleeve tighten around his fingers. You follow his high, reaching down to circle your clit slowly as you grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen upon realization and he curls his fingers inside, helping you reach that place between reality and an illusion. The warmth, the lightness, the nirvana that an orgasm from a lover brings you – irreplaceable.

“Kookie…” you sigh, your bones melting on the spot under his loving stare.

You lay your cheek on his thigh, catching your breath first, before crawling towards him to nestle your face in his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he tells you at last, bringing you back to earth.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and brings him down to your chest. He pulls your body close with one hand on your waist and wraps his mouth around your breasts, suckling softly, moaning his forgiveness into your skin.

Your breathing steadies as you listen to the rain and the soft nibbling of his teeth around your bud. You’re not sure when you succumbed to the exhaustion that nestled deep in your psyche, but by the time Jungkook finish showering your breasts with the love and attention they deserve, you lay limp in his arms.

It would be so easy, Jungkook thought, watching your naked chest rise and fall as he thumbs the faint trail of veins on your neck, to dig his knife into your throat and drain you. It was captivating to watch as he dragged his fingertips across the stretch of muscles underneath, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to keep yourself awake. If you opened your eyes, you can still see your glistening juices painted on his bottom lip, his pink tongue darting out to take the remaining sweetness back into his mouth as if he couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a drop of your honey. Your skin was smooth to the touch, only scars from hormonal acne during your youth remaining on the back of your arms and back. A musky scent of sex and cologne drifts around you like the humid summer air of Seoul.

Jungkook snakes his hand up your chest and feels your heart beating under his palm. He then slumps down on the cotton pillow next to you, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, lifting the sheets up to cover your weakened body.

Jungkook lifted his hand up to your pink cheeks and swiped the stray tears that stained down your temples. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your lips, groaning when your lips move sluggishly against him in an attempt to please him, even in your sleep. It made him feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Once again, you’re his to keep.

As long as you’re a prisoner to his heart, he’ll be your servant and your loving boyfriend who will always serve you like a goddess. He’ll remain pious, as long as you remain his woman only. Through fights, through sex, through tears, through laughter, he’ll etch away every memory you held of other men until the only thing you’ll see is his rabbit smile.

“Welcome home, noona.”

“I really don’t understand why we couldn’t do this later.” The plump woman groaned, walking down the carpeted hallway next to a man that was at least half a foot taller. She wore a black wrap dress with a matching black coat, her hands deep in her pockets. Her cheeks were soft and round, the lovebird blush on the cheekbones giving her a youthful color that had her lover soppy on the inside. She looked rather normal and plain compared to her modelesque partner who stood out like a sore thumb with his lab coat and turtleneck. It would have been a sweet date if they weren’t on the way to blackmail two men.

Her eyes dart from one side to another, beady pupils following the sound of the air conditioner. Now where was room again? Hong Kong really is a maze.

“Meerkat Manor will come again next Tuesday.”

“Oh that’s rich, Tae” she roll her eyes, “as if you’re not working six days a week, every week of the year. This was the only time we could watch it together without you passing out every other episode.”

He stays quiet, absorbing every detail of the hallway from the tacky mock-chandelier light fixtures to the royal purple doorknobs. The building reeked of cheap prostitutes and boxed wine.

Jungkook really has him flying to such an unsavory place just to stop a man in South Korea from developing a crush on this precious ‘noona’ of his. God, the things he does for his little brother. First, the pregnancy, and now Kim Seokjin’s men. He’ll dream of retirement when he’s dead.

“Keep your tone light and remember to use these if you need to.” He tapped the side of her thigh where his scalpels are strapped. “Play it safe.”

Taehyung has always had a sharp sense of direction, which always irked his lover for reasons unknown. In a job like this, no one can risk not knowing. It’s the survival of the fittest.

The door to Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi’s apartment was two doors down from where they were standing. There’s very little room for failure.

Taehyung unstrapped the pistol from the back of his dress pants and loaded the gun, keeping it pointed down and away from his lover. He stood a foot away, back glued to the wall as she knocked once, and then twice, on the wood.

“Excuse me,” she yelped in Cantonese, giving another hard knock. “Is there a Jung and Min here?”

The lock unlatches after a few seconds and a man whose voice can only be described as tired and smoky, responded.

“We don’t have any money,” he said in broken Cantonese. “Um…uh, room service…uh…no need, okay?”

The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, noticing that he is, in fact, armed by the way his cheap blazer couldn’t hide the bulky leather gun-strap underneath. She shrugged off her coat and hiked one side of her dress upwards, inquiring if there are…other services, he might need.

Yoongi, looking back and forth from his boyfriend making eggs in the kitchen to the woman standing with one side of her dress hiked, scratches his ears in frustration.

“Um…the service,” he started in Cantonese and groaned, reminding himself to scour for a new apartment in a better town. He was already late to a meeting with the district police.

It was only when he took a step forward to kick the woman out for good that he saw a figure in the corner of his eyes. He was only able to take one glimpse at the man – the aristocratic nose, the blank expression, the black neatly-combed hair – to realize something didn’t feel right.

That was when the woman grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face onto her bare knee, a resounding crack giving her the confidence she needed to slip her scalpel out and hold it against his jugular.

“Move, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Taehyung quickly tugged the sides of Yoongi’s blazer upwards and stuffed both pistols in his back pocket, keeping his lover in charge as he walks into the apartment with an ease of a husband coming back from work.

“Hello, officer Jung.”

Yoongi can vaguely hear the sound of a pan dropping from in the kitchen, and it was with great relief that the woman holding him at knife-point kicked him back into the apartment. He held his broken nose with both hands and rolled inside, kneeling at the doorstep as he stayed glued to the floor. The carpet was doing a great job of sucking up his fluids. His eyes, however, remains on the gun pointed towards his boyfriend, dressed in a simple pair of pajamas and an apron, who began to walk towards the armed man.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asked, keeping his hands in the air. “Did Li send you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I have no ties with your associates.”

“T-Then what’s this-?” Hoseok asked again, eyes widening when he realized Yoongi’s nose is crushed. His partner splutters blood over the house slippers he kept next to the entrance to the bathroom.

“I need you to stop working with Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi feels the scalpel press against his skin harder, a bead of blood falling onto his shaky hands.

“Jin?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yes.”

Hoseok focused on the man’s face, then Yoongi, then the knife pressed against Yoongi’s neck.

He nods eagerly, agreeing on the spot. “I-I will, just let Yoongi go, I promise I will.”            

Taehyung pulls back the hammer with his thumb, causing Yoongi to struggle as he trembles on the floor. Hoseok’s eyes begin to water but he keeps his gaze focused on Taehyung’s uneven eyelids. This wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

“This means there will be no contact with you and Kim Seokjin whatsoever. No emails, phone calls, or letters. You will not send him information about anyone, dead or alive.”

“You’ll have my word.” Hoseok nods.

“And one more thing,” Taehyung walks over to the laptop settled next to the bed on the nightstand, tapping it once before moving the gun back to position. “I want you to email Seokjin with my exact words before you cut all ties.”

Taehyung pushes the barrel against Hoseok’s shoulder and rests his index finger on the trigger.

“Tell him…if he minds his own business,” the barrel pushes harder, “he’ll have two working arms.”

Bang

“Did you hear something?”

He glances nervously at the open bedroom door. You sit up on the bed, shivering when the air conditioning rattles awake and rain continues to pound against the bedroom windows. Jungkook groans while he shuts off the storm alert on his cellphone.

“It’s just the wind, Kookie, come back to bed.”

He rolls towards you and places his head on your lap, his lips pushed against the small pouch of fat on your lower belly. It was obvious neither of you are getting a full night sleep. Sex didn’t nearly solve as many problems as they wish it had. Not to mention, guilt hung around your neck like a stone every time you catch a glimpse of his slightly swollen cheek.

Jungkook had been awake for most of the night, his heart refusing to calm because he’s utterly, completely, absolutely happy. He notices that you couldn’t sleep much tonight either, a sign that he’s gotten under your skin, but he continues to worship your body every time your breathing evens and you curl against his side. He kisses every inch – from the space between your fingers to the crook of your legs. He palms your shapely body with the heel of his hand, massaging his way down your waist and stretchmarked hips.

He prays that when the time comes, you’ll bless him with a child that would hammer the last nail to this cage he built for you to stay in. He can just imagine your belly stretching farther and farther as the months pass. He wonders if you’ll taste just as sweet on his tongue, or maybe, you’ll be even sweeter? It was thrilling to prepare for this new future. He’s not sure what to expect as you are his first and only love. You might be scared at first, you might even break his heart a little when you panic, but it’s nothing the relationship can’t withstand. You are a responsible woman and he’s the love of your life; isn’t that all you need in a relationship? Just love?

A child will be a proof of that. The baby will be just as intelligent and educated as you but also as caring and protective like him; a perfect split between two loving parents. It would be a little difficult for a few years to take care of a baby and he would have to deal with receiving only half your attention. However, he knows it’ll be worth the exhaustion in the long run.

He’ll finally have the family of his dreams.

But first, he needs to settle the foundation to begin your journey towards motherhood. A little dose of empathy here and there, a little bit of his story sprinkled in between, a little bit more terror, more vulnerability on his part. He’ll have to expose a few unpleasant things so you’ll understand that he does have a justifiable reason for the pouty, clingy mess that he is.

“I just-” Jungkook hesitates, sitting up on the edge of the bed, but you sense his nervousness immediately and pull him closer.

“What is it?” You swallow. Please don’t be mad at me, Jungkook. Please.

“Storms scare me,” he confesses. “I hate loud noises…but you always make me feel safe here though. You’re going to protect me, aren’t you?” His attempt to lighten the mood was pathetic to say the least, but you don’t mind. You couldn’t take the silence when you startle awake every hour, finding Jungkook awake every time, staring at the mirror cabinet in the bathroom. Each time you succumb to subconscious, you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he’s thinking about leaving you in the morning. Maybe he thinks keeping you isn’t worth it.

Your lips pull into an uncertain smile and the corner of his sleepy eyes crinkle at the sight. “I’d do anything for my baby.”

“Tch,” he lightly slaps your arm away.

You sensed that he was shy about his fears and drops the subject in hopes of not embarrassing him any further. However, you needed to address the elephant in the room and Jungkook couldn’t meet your eyes knowing that you’re on the verge of tears yet again.

While you were bathing in fear, he was so happy inside he could die.

“Kookie…” you turn to him again, your eyes roaming over his long, thick lashes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He catches his bottom lip under his rabbit teeth and cast his eyes towards the floor. Taking the sheets with him, he covers your bare body and takes your fingers in his hands, bringing it up to his lips. You watch him linger on your ring finger – where Namjoon’s ring once adorned – and flash you a knowing smile, swallowing the pain down.

“I…” he sighs, not sure how to approach the subject. It was rare to see such vulnerability on your part that he couldn’t help but take advantage of your kindness. Just a little though, just enough for you to keep that guilt alive no matter where you go and who you talk to.

“I wish you didn’t have to hit me, noona.” He swallows once more, knowing this is the only chance he’ll have to tell you the truth. He wants to sew that guilt deep inside your heart so you’ll never dare to hurt him again. “I know you were angry…and I know I’m just as unreasonable when I’m angry…but I don’t want to end up like my parents.”

You place a comforting hand on his back despite the heavy pressure weighing your heart down to your stomach. Jungkook throws a cautious glance at your face and continues when he sees he has your full support.

He focuses his eyes first on the alarm clock flashing four with bold red numbers, then gathers the courage to meet your eyes.

“My mom…um….my mom used to hit dad and I for most of my childhood,” he confesses, voice small and shaky yet you can sense the strength it took for him to say it out loud. It doesn’t make it any less easier for you to swallow the guilt. You’ve been physical with someone who’d suffered unimaginable trauma at a young age and in both times that you’ve hit him, his thoughts were all about you. If someone offered to break every bone in your body at the moment, you’d take the deal.

“He wasn’t the best either b-but um…” he takes your free hand in his, shakily brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He squirms in discomfort, licking his lips every now and then while he tries to find his words. “I-I promised myself I won’t end up like him.”

You pull his head in your chest, letting him rest his weight. He sniffles then, shuddering when you wipe away the stray tears that glistened in the glow that the streetlights outside offered. He can feel that warmth again – your love – that’s created all for him. This is where he belongs, this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’m so sorry, baby, oh my god…I’m sorry.” You coo, wrapping your arms around him at last. His shoulders are too wide for your arms, but you take what you can get. You need to learn that you’re not the only person with boundaries, with a history of trauma, in this relationship. Your sweet boyfriend had been suffering silently behind your back too.

“I’ll never, ever, lay my hands on you like that, Kookie. I mean it. I-” you blink back yours tears, knowing the texts from his mom in your memory never settled comfortably, “I’ll never hurt you again. God J-Jungkook, I can’t imagine-”

He nods, nuzzling his cheeks closer to your heart. “It’s okay, noona, you didn’t know-”

“No!” You shake your head. “It’s not okay. It’s n-not okay for me to do that. I’m supposed to take care of you yet I…I’ve done nothing but hurt you. Oh baby,” you brush his bangs back and place a tender kiss on his hairline. He wraps his arms around you in return, rubbing his cheeks into your naked breast.

“I’m not lying when I said I’ve waited my whole life for you.” He exhales, letting you comb his hair gently through your fingers. “You’ve given me everything I’ve always dreamed of. It still feels like…like a prank sometimes. When are you going to disappear…when are you going to fall for someone else…I get scared when I think of things like that.”

“Why would I leave you, Kookie?” You hold him tighter.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know…I think I’m just scared it’ll eventually happen because I-I know I have issues and I’m not that educated and I’m-“

“Stop!” You grab his face, holding both his cheeks in your hands. “Don’t say things like that about yourself! Understand?”

He holds your wrists. “Noona-”

“I mean it. I don’t care about your job or your past. I. Don’t. Care! I love you and only you. No matter how blind I am to it sometimes,” You peck him softly on his chin, “you’re mine to take care of and mine to love. There’s no other man that has my heart.”

Jungkook’s fists shakes. Endure it a little longer, don’t let her see how happy you are. Endure it!

He nods eagerly. “Do you promise?”

“Of course, baby, of course I promise.”

His eyes glow. “Truly? You won’t hit me, won’t leave me, won’t look at another man?”

You roll his earlobes in between your fingers and capture his lips, sealing the promise. “Never…I’m all yours. I want to care for you and be yours, always.”

Like music to his ears.

He sighs in relief. “Oh, noona…”

He wanted to relive this moment forever and hear those words repeat over and over again in his head. He wanted to call Taehyung and tell him that he finally found his family. After all those years of walking home from school with bruises, starving on the streets, sleeping in a bedroom that smelled of urine, he reaches paradise. If he thought he’d reached heaven on the day he swore to kill for you, he doesn’t know how to describe his frame of mind now.

“Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

You straddle his lap, wanting every inch of your body to be encased in his heat. “Anything, baby.”

“Can I call you mommy?” He pouts, encircling his arms around your waist. “It helps, you know? W-with, um…with some of these thoughts I have…”

The small bout of silence instantly turns his stomach sour. Did he go too far? Was this not the time to play out the fantasies he had in his head? Before he had the chance to curse himself for ruining the moment, you squirm into his lap. An invitation.

“It’s okay baby,” you reassure him, seeing the stars in his eyes glow even more. He’s ecstatic, in awe even, and if his rapid heartbeat didn’t tell you his adorable expression sure did. “You’re my baby boy.”

He crashes his lips onto your swollen ones and press you down onto the bed. His fingers tangle in your hair first then with your fingers before he pushes your arms above your head, his eagerness resulting in a clumsy effort to find his place between your legs. You giggle and play your part, whispering sweet praises while he tells you how much he loves you, how you’re meant for him, how you’re his soulmate, a lover, a friend, a confidant, a mother.

“Mom-my,” he whimpers, voice cracking. He chants, over and over again, unable to get enough of your caresses and praises. “You make me feel so good, mommy, you’re so beautiful, all mine…mommy…mommy…mommy…”

You feel the sting of his penetration when he impatiently enters, just needing to be inside you and feel your pulse. He’s never looked so surreal above you, face coated with sweat and tears, cheeks as rosy as the first plum blossom in spring. He’s a walking sculpture carved from the loveliest marble. Your needy baby boy, your Jungkookie, your boyfriend with a heart made of glass.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when the sun has risen and the rain ceased, that you spend your own time worshipping him. Your heart aches at the thought of someone, especially the parents that were supposed to love and support him, laying their hands on someone so pure and sweet. You think back to the times you asked for his baby pictures or his past and finding him uncomfortably shifting his gaze away or avoiding the subject altogether. It must have been painful for him to endure your interrogations and your passive aggressive behavior; you finally realize now that he wasn’t annoyed with you but was afraid of your judgement. It must’ve been a habit for him to think of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t grow up in a safe place.

Actually, he didn’t grow up with a home at all.

A shack somewhere in Busan with no running water or electricity or a school that was close enough for a child to walk safely to. Just by watching the polite way he spoke to people at his gallery and admiring his ethereally handsome appearance, no one could guess he was a victim of neglect and abuse.

It wasn’t until he brings you to the balcony, where the morning wind blows through his deep chocolate hair and the smell of orange blossoms whisk around your body, that he settles you onto his lap and brings your fingers over the small scar on his cheekbones.

“I think you should know where this came from, noona…”

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bangtan fluff #jungkook fluff #bangtan boys #bts #only you #chapter 7 #the smut was nowhere as kinky as I initially started because it just did not fit the mood of the chapter #i'll put some more rabid ass eating in the future chapters don't you worry

[madewithonerib]

Is Saying ‘If it’s GOD’s Will’ Biblical? J.Warner Wallace

For example, the following two SCRIPTURES clearly identify things that are GOD’s will: Having & communicating a thankful attitude toward GOD no matter what’s happening in your life & silencing foolishness with good actions instead of arguing.

     ●  Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is GOD’s will for           you in CHRIST JESUS (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

     ●  For it is GOD’s will that by doing good you should silence           the ignorant talk of foolish people (1 Peter 2:15).

When You Don’t Know

      Although you can find many other SCRIPTURES to know       the will of GOD, some things aren’t in the BIBLE.

      For example, who to marry, what house to buy, if you ought       to go to college, & many more life decisions.

      These lead us all back to James’ point.

      When you don’t know the will of GOD there are four things       you can do:

       ●  Submit to GOD—asking for HIS will        ●  Pray for wisdom        ●  Seek godly counsel        ●  Trust the HOLY SPIRIT

      When you sincerely want to know the will of GOD, HE       will always help you find it.

      Yes, it is GOD who is working in you.

      HE helps you want to do what pleases HIM, & HE gives       you the power to do it [Philippians 2:13]

            Matthew 23:14-15 | ¹⁴ Woe to you, scribes & Pharisees,             hypocrites! For you devour the houses of widows, & as             a pretext are praying at great length. Because of this,             you shall receive greater condemnation. ¹⁵ Woe to you,             scribes & Pharisees, you hypocrites! You traverse land             & sea to win a single convert, & when he becomes one,             you make him twice as much a son of hell as you are.

Charles John Ellicott, Theologian [1819–1905] | Matthew 23:14

[14] You devour widows’ houses—The avarice thus described may have attained its end either [1] by using the advantages which they possessed, as the jurists & notaries of the time, to press unjust claims against wealthy widows, or to become their heirs, or

[2] by leading devout women, under the show of piety, to bestow on them their estates or houses.

To minister to the maintenance of a scribe was, they taught, the best use of wealth.

The “long prayer” refers probably to the well-known 18 Prayers, which formed the standard of the Pharisee’s devotion.

The whole verse, it may be noted, is wanting in many MSS., & may have been inserted here from Mark 12:40 or Luke 20:47.

Matthew Henry, Nonconformist [1662-1714] | Matthew 23:13-33

      The scribes & Pharisees were enemies to the       GOSPEL of CHRIST, & therefore to the       salvation of the souls of men.

      It is bad to keep away from CHRIST ourselves,       but worse also to keep others from HIM.

      Yet it is no new thing for the show & form of godliness       to be made a cloak to the greatest enormities.

      But dissembled piety will be reckoned double iniquity.

      They were very busy to turn souls to be of their party.

      Not for the glory of GOD & the good of souls, but that       they might have the credit & advantage of making converts.

      Gain being their godliness, by a thousand devices they       made religion give way to their worldly interests.

      They were very strict & precise in smaller matters of the law,       but careless & loose in weightier matters.

      It is not the scrupling a little sin that CHRIST here reproves;       if it be a sin, though but a gnat, it must be strained out; but       the doing that, & then swallowing a camel, or, committing       a greater sin.

            While they would seem to be godly, they             were neither sober nor righteous.

      We are really, what we are inwardly.

      Outward motives may keep the outside clean, while the       inside is filthy; but if the heart & spirit be made new, there       will be newness of life; here we must begin with ourselves.

       ●  Proverbs 16:2 | ² All a man’s ways are pure in his own            eyes, but his motives are weighed out by the LORD.

       ●  Proverbs 26:5 | ⁵ Answer a fool according to his folly,             lest he become wise in his own eyes.

       ●  Proverbs 26:12 | ¹² Do you see a man who is wise in            his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him.

       ●  1 Samuel 12:23 | ²³ As for me, far be it from me that I             should sin against the LORD by ceasing to pray for you.             And I will continue to teach you the good & right way.

      The righteousness of the scribes & Pharisees was like the       ornaments of a grave, or dressing up a dead body, only for       show.

      The deceitfulness of sinners' hearts appears in that they go       down the streams of the sins of their own day, while they       fancy that they should oppose the sins of former days.

      We sometimes think, if we had lived when CHRIST was       upon earth, that we should not have despised & rejected       HIM, as men then did; yet CHRIST in HIS SPIRIT, in HIS       word, in HIS ministers, is still no better treated.

      And it is just with GOD to give those up to their hearts' lusts,       who obstinately persist in gratifying them.

      CHRIST gives men their true characters.

Albert Barnes, American Theologian [1798-1870] | Matthew 23:14

Devour widows' houses—The word "houses" is used here to denote "property" or possessions of any kind.

You take away or get possession of the property of widows by improper arts & pretences.

This was done in two ways:

1. They claimed a very exact knowledge of the law & a perfect observance of it.

They pretended to extraordinary justice toward the poor, friendship for the distressed, & willingness to aid those who were in embarrassed circumstances.

They thus induced "widows" & poor people to commit the management of their property to them as guardians & executors, & then took advantage of them & defrauded them.

2. They put on the appearance of great sanctity, & induced many conscientious but credulous women to give them much, under pretence of devoting it to religious purposes.

Long prayer—Their prayers are said to have been often three hours in length.

ONE rule among them, says Lightfoot, was to meditate an hour, then pray an hour, & then meditate another hour—all of which was included in their "long prayers or devotions."

Damnation—Condemnation.

The word here probably refers to future punishment.

It does not always, however.

It means, frequently, no more than "condemnation," or the divine disapprobation of a certain course of conduct, as in 1 Corinthians 11:29; "HE that eateth & drinketh unworthily, eateth & drinketh "damnation" to himself;" that is, he that eateth & drinketh in an unworthy manner disorderly, not with reverence—is guilty, & his conduct will be disapproved or condemned by GOD referring solely to the impropriety of the manner of partaking of the LORD's supper, & not at all to the worthiness or unworthiness of the person.

See the notes at that place.

Compare Romans 14:23.

For a pretence—For appearance or show; in order that they might the better defraud poor people.

They would not be condemned for "making" long prayers, but because they did it with an evil design.

Public prayers should, however, be short, & always to the point.

A man praying in a Sunday school should pray for the school, and, usually, not for everything else.

Jamieson-Fausset-Brown BIBLE Comment | Matthew 23:14

Woe unto you, scribes & Pharisees, hypocrites! for you devour widows' houses, &c—Taking advantage of the helpless condition & confiding character of "widows," they contrived to obtain possession of their property, while by their "long prayers" they made them believe they were raised far above "filthy lucre." So much "the greater damnation" awaits them.

What a lifelike description of the Romish clergy, the true successors of those s cribes!

Matthew Poole, Nonconformist [1624-1679] | Matthew 23:14

Mark hath the same, Mark 12:40 & Luke 20:47.

If any should think that long prayers are here condemned, he will be confuted by Luke 6:12, where he will find that our Saviour continued all night in prayer to GOD.

It is the end of their long prayers which alone our Saviour blames, their making them a pretence to devour widows’ houses; which whether they did as interested in the civil power, [in which it is certain the Pharisees amongst the Jews were employed], or by virtue of their ecclesiastical power or influence, persuading silly women to give them their estates, or at least to give them a great part of them, to the service of the tabernacle, that they might pray for their souls, was an abomination to GOD, not only for the hypocrisy of such prayers, designed for another end than they pretended, but because GOD had taken upon him the special care & protection of the widows.

As our Saviour had before blamed their religious acts for the ostentation in them, seeking only their own honour & applause, so he here blames them for their covetous design in them.

John Gill, Baptist & Calvinist [1697-1771] | Matthew 23:14

Woe unto you, scribes & Pharisees, hypocrites—The same character is given as before, & the same woe denounced, & a fresh reason given of it: for you devour widows' houses; that is, the goods in the houses of such as were left with fatherless children, & but little to support them; who being left alone, & none to advise them, & being weak, & prone to superstition; these greedy dogs, as Isaiah calls them, who could never have enough, easily imposed upon them, wormed them out of all their substance, stripped them bare of the necessaries of life, prevailed on them to sell their houses & goods, & bestow them on them; or got their little estates into their hands, pretending to take care, & dispose of them for them, to their advantage:

& for a pretence make long prayers: as if they were very holy, good men; or pretended that the substance of these widows, which they got into their hands, was for their long prayers for them; or they made long prayers for them in return for their substance.

Maimonides [x] says, that

"the ancient saints, or good men, used to stay an hour before prayer, & an hour after prayer, & "prolonged", or "held an hour in prayer":''

& this being three times a day, nine hours every day, as is observed in the Talmud [y], were spent in this manner; & on this account they got the character of very devout & religious men, & hereby covered all their avarice, rapine, & oppression of the poor: but GOD will not be mocked;

therefore you shall receive the greater damnation; both on account of their plundering & distressing the poor, the widows, & the fatherless; & also because of their hypocrisy in doing this under the cover of religion & holiness.

Hence it appears, that there are degrees of punishment in hell, & that hypocrites, & all such who oppress the poor, under the mask of godliness, supposing gain to be that, will be partakers of the greatest degree of it.

In Munster's Hebrew GOSPEL it is called , "a long judgment", or "damnation", in allusion to their long prayers: & is the very reverse of what they expect on account of them: they say [z].

"three things prolong a man's days & years, "he that is long in his prayer"''

is the first mentioned; & he that is long at his prayer, it is an excellency, they say; but instead of a long & happy life, he shall have a long damnation.

This verse is left out in some copies, & in others it stands before the former; in which order it is read in the Syriac, Arabic, Persic, & Ethiopic versions.

Geneva Study BIBLE, ‎Protestant Affiliation [1557-1560] | 

{6} Woe unto you, scribes & Pharisees, hypocrites! for you devour widows' houses, & {o} for a pretence make long prayer: therefore you shall receive the greater damnation. [6] It is a common thing among hypocrites to abuse the pretence of zeal when in reality they are exercising covetousness & extortion.

[o] Literally, under a colour of long praying; & the word & signifies a double wickedness in them: the one, that they devoured widows goods: the other that they did it under a pretense.

Expositor's Greek Testament, William R. Nicoll [1897-1910] | Matthew 23:14

Vide at Matthew 6:2.

This epithet is applied to the scribes & Pharisees in each of the woes with terrific iteration—κλείετε, you shut the gates or the doors of the Kingdom of GOD, conceived as a city or palace.

      This the real effect of their action, not the ostensible.

      They claimed to be opening the Kingdom while really       shutting it, & therein lay their hypocrisy—ἔμπροσθεν τ.

      ἀ.: as it were in men’s faces, when they are in the act       of entering—ὑμεῖς γὰρ, etc. Matthew 5:20.

            Matthew 5:20 | ²⁰ For I tell you that unless your             righteousness exceeds that of the scribes &             Pharisees, you will never enter the             Kingdom of Heaven.

      They thought themselves certainly within, but in the       judgment of JESUS, with all their parade of piety,       they were without—τ. εἰσερχομένους,

      those in the mood to enter, in the act of entering; the       reference is to sincere seekers after GOD, & the       statement is that the scribes were the worst advisers       such persons could go to:

      the effect of their teaching would be to keep them out.

      This is the position implied throughout the       Sermon on the Mount & in Matthew 11:28-30.

Cambridge BIBLE, Anglican Editor John Perowne [1882] | Matthew 23:14

You devour widows’ houses] i.e. “consume their substance,” by illegal exaction or by working upon their religious feelings; a common form |  of rapacity.

The Vatican & Sinaitic MSS.

omit this verse, which occurs Mark 12:40, & Luke 20:47.

Bengel's Gnomen | Matthew 23:14

Κατεσθὶετε, κ.τ.λ., you devour, etc.] The extreme of avarice.

To devour widows’ houses[997] is the most atrocious species, which is put for the whole class of rapacious actions—καὶ, even]—μακρἀ, long] The word has here the force of an adverb.[998] Some MSS.

also read suitably enough, μακρᾷ, in which case it must be construed with ΠΡΟΦΆΣΕΙ, sc.

with a long, or great pretence—i.e.

they made of their prayers a great pretence, pretext, or plea for devouring widows’ houses.

Herodian uses the expressions, πρόφασις ὀλίγη, εὐτελὴς, μικρά, sc.

a small, useful, little pretext or plea—λήψεσθε, κ.τ.λ., you shall receive, etc.] sc.

as the reward of such prayers—περισσύτερον κρίμα, more abundant damnation] He who acts ill is condemned; he who abuses that which is good, to adorn that which is bad, is condemned to sorer punishment.

[997] Who of all persons ought especially to be spared, but who, as being liable to be easily acted on by persuasion, are most open to oppression—V.g.

[998] According to this reading, which is that of EM, it must be construed with προσευχόμενοι, praying; & the words mMatthew 23:14 ust be rendered, “who pray long”—i.e.

“who spend a long time in prayer”—[I.B.]

Donald Spence Jones [1836-1917] | Matthew 23:14

14.—Second woe—against rapacity & hypocrisy.

There is some doubt about the genuineness of this verse, & our Revisers have expunged it from their text, relegating it to the margin.

It is omitted by א, B, D, L, Z, some copies of the Vulgate & some versions; on the other hand, it is found in E, F, G, H, K, M, & other later uncials, & in the received Vulgate & Syriac Versions.

Critics reject it as a supposed interpolation from Mark 12:40; Luke 20:47.

At any rate, whether spoken now or at another time, it is undoubtedly an utterance of CHRIST, & to be received with all reverence.

Ye devour widows' houses.

Women who have lost their natural protector become their prey.

To these they attach themselves, winning them over by flattery & fraud, & persuading them to assist them with their substance to the ruin of their fortunes.

GOD had always defended the cause of widows, & had urged his people to deal gently & mercifully with them [see Deuteronomy 10:18; Deuteronomy 27:19; Psalm 68:5; Isaiah 1:17; Luke 18:3-7].

This woe is followed in  Luke by the episode of the widow's mite [Luke 20:47; Luke 21:1-4].

And for a pretence make long prayer; or, & that, making long prayers for a pretence.

They put on an appearance of extraordinary devotion, that they might more easily secure the favour of the widows; or else they exacted large sums of money, engaging to offer continual prayers for the donors [compare  Paul's words in 2 Timothy 3:6].

Thus these hypocrites made a gain of godliness at the expense of the most helpless members of the community.

Greater [περισσότερον, more abundant] damnation.

No condemnation in this world or the next can be more justly awarded than to him who adds hypocrisy to covetousness, & makes religion a cloke for

twitter.com/jwarnerwallace/status/1349189508789628933 christianity.com/wiki/christian-life/is-saying-if-its-gods-will-biblical.html twitter.com/EntiretyinYHWH/status/1349227929306234880

#Matthew 23:14

[didanawisgi]

Prayers aren’t doing anything. We need gun control laws. We need our government to take action... Or do we?

Ok, so since this is a blog, that means I have to write original stuff from time to time, otherwise it can’t rightly be called a blog, can it? I have many kinds of friends, and I make it a point to be friends with different people, especially ones with different opinions. Here, a family friend of my fiancee posted on her facebook this statement:  “Prayers aren’t doing anything. We need gun control laws. We need our government to take action.” She is very pro gun control and insists that action be taken, however, we politely entered into a discussion about it and I tried to explain why I am against “gun control”.  

I said:  “ I think the most important thing is identifying violent and unstable people early, but the state of our mental healthcare workforce is lacking. The culture and resources dedicated to this needs to shift. I think the political left should focus their efforts there and come up with the most humane ideas. As for gun control in general I am against and will continue to carry concealed. Most of the gun control ideas are either already on the books or knee-jerk and not well thought out. Also the second amendment precludes most of it anyway. I like for things to be practical and effective, so it’s just my opinion that we need to shift focus on how to empower physicians and law enforcement and the judiciary with laws while at the same time allocating more funds to mental health safety nets and research. “

She replied:  It’s hard for me, because I think no matter what we do considering the mental health community (which could take decades) won’t stop mass shootings. When someone has a conceal carry on during a mass shooting, I feel like it just makes it more dangerous because they don’t always know where to shoot, can hurt more innocent people, and could be considered the shooter. What about the mass shooting in Australia? The 1996 Port Arthur massacre resulted in legislation that saw a dramatic decline in gun crimes. It made a huge difference. Was sandy hook (and everything since) not enough to change our legislation? This pattern will continue as long as the NRA has politicians in its pocket.

I then said:  I understand where you are coming from; my perspective is different. Some of the best data and research currently available has put the onus on gun control proponents (for instance check out the Harvard Law study I posted below, that is fairly comprehensive and has good/logical points backed by statistical evidence). Most concealed carry holders have decent training and must demonstrate proficiency and accuracy by law. Also, they are trained/lectured in precisely which instances your gun can be pulled, under protection of the law. The NRA is not really the issue, but the millions of citizens that will not give up any Constitutional right apropos 2nd Amd. that hold their feet to the fire. If the NRA were dismantled entirely today, another would arise in a few months and eventually become just as prominent. I also plan on becoming an NRA member in the future, or whatever gun rights lobby group that will protect my right of self defense, particularly with the rise of white nationalist groups. The first thing the KKK and Jim Crow/government law did was to take away guns from black citizens. If you listen to Malcom X or even MLK (who owned firearms in his home for self defense), the logic and reasons seem fairly sound and self-evident, at least to me. Also, the 2nd amendment and the Federalist papers particularly Madison, make a compelling argument for it as well. Let me know if you want the link, it is a very interesting read. I still contend that the mental health in this country is terrible, even with my first hand knowledge, I still can't believe some of what I've seen. But yes, I understand where you are coming from. There will be no path forward with no improvement if we can't find some common ground on where to take action, as it seems stalemate currently.

She said she would like to read my sources...

Here is the article I cited in its entirety from Harvard Law Review journal: http://www.law.harvard.edu/.../Vol30_No2...

These are some of the more interesting/salient parts in terms of debate: 

INTRODUCTION International evidence and comparisons have long been offered as proof of the mantra that more guns mean more deaths and that fewer guns, therefore, mean fewer deaths.1 Unfortunately, such discussions are all too often been afflicted by misconceptions and factual error and focus on comparisons that are unrepresentative. It may be useful to begin with a few examples. There is a com‐ pound assertion that (a) guns are uniquely available in the United States compared with other modern developed nations, which is why (b) the United States has by far the highest murder rate. Though these assertions have been endlessly repeated, statement (b) is, in fact, false and statement (a) is substantially so. Since at least 1965, the false assertion that the United States has the industrialized world’s highest murder rate has been an artifact of politically motivated Soviet minimization designed to hide the true homicide rates.2 Since well before that date, the Soviet Union possessed extremely stringent gun controls3 that were effectuated by a police state apparatus providing stringent enforcement.4 So successful was that regime that few Russian civilians now have firearms and very few murders involve them.5 Yet, manifest suc‐ cess in keeping its people disarmed did not prevent the Soviet Union from having far and away the highest murder rate in the developed world.6 In the 1960s and early 1970s, the gun‐less So‐ viet Union’s murder rates paralleled or generally exceeded those of gun‐ridden America. While American rates stabilized and then steeply declined, however, Russian murder increased so drasti‐ cally that by the early 1990s the Russian rate was three times higher than that of the United States. Between 1998‐2004 (the lat‐ est figure available for Russia), Russian murder rates were nearly four times higher than American rates. Similar murder rates also characterize the Ukraine, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and various other now‐independent European nations of the former U.S.S.R.7 Thus, in the United States and the former Soviet Union transition‐ ing into current‐day Russia, “homicide results suggest that where guns are scarce other weapons are substituted in killings.”8 While American gun ownership is quite high, Table 1 shows many other developed nations (e.g., Norway, Finland, Germany, France, Denmark) with high rates of gun ownership. These countries, however, have murder rates as low or lower than many devel‐ oped nations in which gun ownership is much rarer. For example, Luxembourg, where handguns are totally banned and ownership of any kind of gun is minimal, had a murder rate nine times higher than Germany in 2002. The same pattern appears when comparisons of violence to gun ownership are made within nations. Indeed, “data on fire‐ arms ownership by constabulary area in England,” like data from the United States, show “a negative correlation,”10 that is, “where firearms are most dense violent crime rates are lowest, and where guns are least dense violent crime rates are high‐ est.”11 A second misconception about the relationship between fire‐ arms and violence attributes Europe’s generally low homicide rates to stringent gun control. That attribution cannot be accu‐ rate since murder in Europe was at an all‐time low before the gun controls were introduced.13 For instance, virtually the only English gun control during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was the practice that police patrolled without guns. During this period gun control prevailed far less in England or Europe than in certain American states which nevertheless had—and continue to have—murder rates that were and are comparatively very high.14 In this connection, two recent studies are pertinent. In 2004, the U.S. National Academy of Sciences released its evaluation from a review of 253 journal articles, 99 books, 43 government publications, and some original empirical research. It failed to identify any gun control that had reduced violent crime, sui‐ cide, or gun accidents.15 The same conclusion was reached in 2003 by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control’s review of then‐ extant studies.16 Stringent gun controls were not adopted in England and Western Europe until after World War I. Consistent with the outcomes of the recent American studies just mentioned, these strict controls did not stem the general trend of ever‐growing violent crime throughout the post‐WWII industrialized world including the United States and Russia. Professor Malcolm’s study of English gun law and violent crime summarizes that nation’s nineteenth and twentieth century experience as fol‐ lows: The peacefulness England used to enjoy was not the result of strict gun laws. When it had no firearms restrictions [nine‐ teenth and early twentieth century] England had little violent crime, while the present extraordinarily stringent gun controls have not stopped the increase in violence or even the increase in armed violence.17 Armed crime, never a problem in England, has now become one. Handguns are banned but the Kingdom has millions of illegal firearms. Criminals have no trouble finding them and exhibit a new willingness to use them. In the decade after 1957, the use of guns in serious crime increased a hundredfold.18 In the late 1990s, England moved from stringent controls to a complete ban of all handguns and many types of long guns. Hundreds of thousands of guns were confiscated from those owners law‐abiding enough to turn them in to authorities. Without suggesting this caused violence, the ban’s ineffectiveness was such that by the year 2000 violent crime had so increased that England and Wales had Europe’s highest violent crime rate, far surpassing even the United States.19 Today, English news media headline violence in terms redolent of the doleful, melodramatic language that for so long characterized American news reports.20 One aspect of England’s recent experience deserves note, given how often and favorably advo‐ cates have compared English gun policy to its American coun‐ terpart over the past 35 years.21 A generally unstated issue in this notoriously emotional debate was the effect of the Warren Court and later restrictions on police powers on American gun policy. Critics of these decisions pointed to soaring American crime rates and argued simplistically that such decisions caused, or at least hampered, police in suppressing crime. But to some supporters of these judicial decisions, the example of England argued that the solution to crime was to restrict guns, not civil liberties. To gun control advocates, England, the cradle of our liberties, was a nation made so peaceful by strict gun control that its police did not even need to carry guns. The United States, it was argued, could attain such a desirable situation by radically reducing gun ownership, preferably by banning and confiscating handguns. The results discussed earlier contradict those expectations. On the one hand, despite constant and substantially increasing gun ownership, the United States saw progressive and dramatic reductions in criminal violence in the 1990s. On the other hand, the same time period in the United Kingdom saw a constant and dramatic increase in violent crime to which England’s response was ever‐more drastic gun control including, eventually, banning and confiscating all handguns and many types of long guns.22 Nevertheless, criminal violence rampantly increased so that by 2000 England surpassed the United States to become one of the developed world’s most violence‐ridden nations……

Here is part of their Conclusion: This Article has reviewed a significant amount of evidence from a wide variety of international sources. Each individual portion of evidence is subject to cavil—at the very least the general objection that the persuasiveness of social scientific evidence cannot remotely approach the persuasiveness of conclusions in the physical sciences. Nevertheless, the burden of proof rests on the proponents of the more guns equal more death and fewer guns equal less death mantra, especially since they argue public policy ought to be based on that mantra.149 To bear that burden would at the very least require showing that a large number of nations with more guns have more death and that nations that have imposed stringent gun controls have achieved substantial reductions in criminal violence (or suicide). But those correlations are not observed when a large number of nations are compared across the world. Source: Harvard Journal of Law and Public Policy http://www.law.harvard.edu/.../Vol30_No2...

I then said, Federalist 10 and 46 represent in my opinion, the chief parts/reasoning of why the second amendment is important.

Here is part of Madison's argument in Federalist 10: "From this view of the subject it may be concluded that a pure democracy… can admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the whole; a communication and concert result from the form of government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker party or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is that such democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths. Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of government, have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions. A republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme of representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in which it varies from pure democracy, and we shall comprehend both the nature of the cure and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union." James Madison, Federalist No. 10

So here he argues why a Republic is better then a Democracy, and the idea of the "mischiefs of faction" and how at any given time the majority will in one way or another coerce the minority. Democracy, counter-intuitively then, is the great civilization killer, and easily undermines individual freedom, hence the "tyranny of the majority".

In Federalist 46, he examines the differences and pros and cons of having a Standing army (Military controlled by government) vs armed citizenry: In Federalist No. 46, Madison calculates that the new government could support a standing army but "To these would be opposed a militia amounting to near half a million of citizens with arms in their hands, officered by men chosen from among themselves, fighting for their common liberties, and united and conducted by governments possessing their affections and confidence. It may well be doubted, whether a militia thus circumstanced could ever be conquered by such a proportion of regular troops… . Besides the advantage of being armed, which the Americans possess over the people of almost every other nation, the existence of subordinate governments, to which the people are attached, and by which the militia officers are appointed, forms a barrier against the enterprises of ambition, more insurmountable than any which a simple government of any form can admit of. Notwithstanding the military establishments in the several kingdoms of Europe, which are carried as far as the public resources will bear, the governments are afraid to trust the people with arms."

Here I think we find the seeds of the Second Amendment, and the relationship to standing army (Government controlled) vs an armed citizenry, which if need be (unlikely going to happen, but still) acts as a kind of fail safe to preserve the Republic (atall costs). Democracies do not need a first or second amendment, however a Republic does. (In my opinion). In a Democracy, the vast majority would be fine with gun control, likely not seeing any "modern" need for an armed citizenry, and would just vote on it and it would be so. But the problem is that this is precisely how nations die, and join the eternal cycle of failed states.

I could go on in a further attempt to explain my logic/reasoning as to why I think the second amendment is necessary to preserve the Union (forever), and to preserve the Republic (specifically). But I think I have said enough to at least get my reasoning in a way that does not make me seem like a radical. I think if you really consider it, you will see where I am coming from.

Also, here is an article from one of my favorite philosophers of today, Sam Harris, whom you may be familiar with. He writes with clarity and sound logic. Here is a piece he did on gun control (if you are interested): https://www.samharris.org/blog/item/the-riddle-of-the-gun

Here are some follow up questions in a pod cast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0DYpaLgWIo

Here is some more material on the "dilemmas of democracy" https://www.city-journal.org/.../james-madison-and...

Here's a brief discussion of Federalist 46 https://armsandthelaw.com/arc.../2005/04/federalist_no_4.php

Here is something I wrote that you may be interested in and partly explains why I am "republican" along with what I mentioned about Democracy and the "micheifs of faction": What follows is something I wrote for a facebook “civil politcal debate” as a favor to a fellow freemason in Canada, where I attempted to get at the essential reason why I think we have so much political upheaval, and how to get back to our Constitutional way of life by examining Hamilton’s Federalist No. 17 and the implications therein. “First, I would like to thank Bro. Charles for inviting me to comment in a civil discussion of politics, a subject I usually do not attempt to discuss on Facebook due to the inherent limitations of the medium itself. The format and back-and-forth nature of posts only seems to foster hurried and usually less well thought out arguments “in the heat of the post”. I have come to realize you do not persuade others by quipy remarks or tones that, in your own certitude, just come off as condescension regardless of how well thought out or how right you may be (or think you are). I shall attempt to render my opinion on the first part of your questions Charles, and that is, is the phenomenon like Trump and Brexit a ‘Great Rebellion’? The short answer is in the affirmative, and here is why. Two words: Power, and Sovereignty; but perhaps not in the way you may be thinking. What I mean by power is, where does the actual political power come from in this day and age? From the People presumably, but the fear, justified or not, is that both nations, a Constitutional Republic and a Parliamentary Democracy are no longer responsive to the Will of the People. The Spectre of Oppression rises as the perception of true freedom wanes. People feel more and more disconnected, disaffected, disenfranchised, and trod upon by undue regulation. In many instances, it affects them personally, financially, and has significant influence on their means. And yet, what recourse do they have? Voting ad nauseam with little to show for it? It feels as if no one represents you completely, largely due to entrenched political platform with little maneuverability, dominated by crony kow-towers suffering from Group Think. With each election cycle, we the Peoples of both Nations, feel like our Power, or Self-Evident Liberty to govern ourselves, is slipping away. Alexander Hamilton, in Federalist no. 17, has this to say about the advantage of maintaining matters related to Law and Justice at the Local level: “There is one transcendent advantage belonging to the province of the State governments, which alone suffices to place the matter in a clear and satisfactory light… I mean the ordinary administration of criminal and civil justice. This, of all others, is the most powerful, most universal, and most attractive source of popular obedience and attachment. It is this, which, being the immediate and visible guardian of life and property; having its benefits and its terrors in constant activity before the public eye; regulating all those personal interests, and familiar concerns, to which the sensibility of individuals is more immediately awake; contributes, more than any other circumstance, to impress upon the minds of the people affection, esteem, and reverence towards the government.” Hamilton is essentially saying that Liberty is best maintained locally, in terms of civil and criminal law, and that when done so, is more responsive to the People, and they in turn, are more cooperative and filial with the Government (imagine that! Lol). So, therefore, this is the crux of my point, and where my assumptions rest as to the nature of the problem. Trump and Brexit (and Bernie I would argue) are manifestations of the People’s hope to regain some of the “Power” they intuitively sense they have lost, but few will cite the raison d'être as I have. Naturally then, my solution rests in returning the ‘ordinary administration of criminal and civil justice’ or “Power to the People” in the form of greater reliance on Local and State Governance, and considerably less Federal encroachment in these arenas, which would serve to assuage the Fears, real and imagined, of the Populace, and bring back a more responsive government for the people, by the people. Now that I have clarified (hopefully) what I mean by “Power,” let us move onto Sovereignty, which is defined as ‘the authority of a State to govern itself’. This part is easy, for I see sovereignty as a natural extension of the principle of power, or rather, as an (Fractal-like) iteration of the self-evident Right of Liberty, or to govern ourselves. One of the chief complaints I heard/read from supporters of Brexit was that being in the EU degraded British Sovereignty. Well what does this mean really? It means that the very ‘power’ Trump supporters (and other supporters) want back, a greater ability to self-govern, are the very same thing the Brexit voters want; more freedom, particularly in regards to civil law and the regulations they feel like they have no say or voice in. Their say in the ‘ordinary administration of civil and criminal justice’ is eluding the voters of both nations. Taking back one’s sovereignty is just another way of saying I want more say in civil and criminal law from a governmental perspective. So, this is why I would have to answer the first part of your question in the affirmative; it is a ‘thing’ whose cause rests in the voters declining ability to have a voice in civil, tax, property, etc. law that is imposed on them by politicians orders of magnitude removed from them.”

Anyway, I wanted to share this with my followers, food for thought. I highly recommend reading and listening to Sam Harris philosophical approach to the Riddle of the Gun.  Take care followers and have a Blessed day.

REGIII32

p.s. feel free to debate and argue (followers), I enjoy hearing your thought processes and seeing your evidence.

#politics #me #gun control #controversy #federalist papers #sam harris

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/5th-may-2020-18th-january-2022-north-node-in-gemini/

5th May 2020 – 18th January 2022: North Node in Gemini

5th May 2020 – 18th January 2022: North Node in Gemini

By Sarah Varcas

Whose Thoughts Are YOU Thinking?

The North Node always points us in the direction of progress and fulfilment, revealing how to more deeply and fully occupy our humanity. It’s our guide into a bright future, but demands the sacrifice of familiarity for a more satisfying but challenging way. The North Node has been in Cancer since November 2018. It’s shift from the sensitive and watery realms of the crab to the airy and relational realm of the twins gives us an important clue about how to best proceed for the foreseeable future.

Cancer is the guardian of family and ancestral origins. It moves us to find ‘our people’ and stand strong with them, honouring the past and protecting our shared future. But as the North Node shifts into Gemini it’s time to reflect on whose thoughts we’re actually thinking and whether now might be a good time to release some inherited perspectives: those opinions and world views absorbed from our past, our family and our religious, political, social and cultural environment. We may even need to disentangle ourselves from people we’ve travelled alongside in recent years. Whilst the strength and power of community is currently coming into its own, the North Node in Gemini reminds us to be alert to the power of expectation and subtle coercion when it comes to ‘group think’. Just because ‘everyone’ believes something doesn’t necessarily make it true. And just because we’re told ‘this is how it is’ doesn’t mean it can’t also be another way.

Living with uncertainty

Gemini doesn’t deal in absolute truth. It holds paradox and dichotomy with ease, living in a both/and world where opposites can be simultaneously true. We will be living in just such a world for the next eighteen months. It will be a challenge to sift truth from lies, fact from opinion and honesty from manipulation. There will be few certainties and contradiction will rule the day. Media messages can more easily shape collective consciousness during this passage of the North Node so be careful who’s got your attention. The more people who switch off the news the better! Filter everything you hear – no matter the source – through a mind that let’s go. And rest lightly on any conclusion drawn. There may well be a contrasting, but equally compelling, one right around the next corner!

When out of balance Gemini can descend into anxiety, obsessive internal dialogue, and irrational fear. As the North Node travels through this cerebral sign, we can see these processes for what they are and choose to disrupt or curtail them. This is not a time to be ruled by a narrative of fear – our own or someone else’s, no matter how well-meaning they may be. Claim your right to confidence in your own perspective and the power of flexibility and freedom of thought. The world will not be reborn from collective fear of death and disease. It will be reborn by those who stand tall and affirm life, health and hope. It will be reborn on a wave of wisdom which can penetrate the fog of facts, disinformation, anxiety and control.

Information exposed

Sources of information will be exposed during this transit. Manipulation of message and content will be revealed for all to see. Pay attention to where information comes from and who gains what from you believing it. Stand sovereign over your own mind, free to understand and perceive as you see fit; to draw your own conclusions and shape your own truths. Free to live boldly rather than diminished by fear. Beware mass perspectives, received wisdom and ‘everyone knows…’ claims. The North Node in Gemini empowers us to understand the true nature of information and its use and weaponisation in the modern world. When Neptune squares the North Node between November 2020 and February 2021, we may well see a clandestine but increasingly ruthless battle for public opinion. Information and data will be heavily manipulated. Attempts at suppression of information contrary to the official line may increase exponentially, alongside a corresponding surge in individuals’ willingness to choose a different source of guidance, more inner than outer.

While the North Node is in Gemini, power shifts from the privileged and elite to the masses. Reclaim authority from the experts. Expertise by definition is a limited view. No one is an expert of everything and only you are an expert on you. Honour your own wisdom. Pay attention to your own inner dialogue and emotional state. Learn what triggers you into anxiety, anger or fear and what triggers hope, peace, resolve and a new sense of possibility. For there is great possibility in the months and years to come. Change which seemed almost impossible just a few months ago may now be only a breath away. We are so deeply immersed in the evolution of this planet, in the next stage of our growth, that there is no going back. The old ways are gone. We must shift aspirations, values, priorities and perspectives to accommodate a burgeoning realisation that life must change and that we, as individuals and a global family, must fashion that change from the ground up, not have someone else’s model for change imposed upon us from the top down.

Claim your inner authority

As the North Node enters Gemini, Saturn in Aquarius challenges us to face the fear of stepping out of the crowd. The voices of those who prefer the freedom to choose their fate rather than have it imposed upon them will grow louder now. Those who refuse to be controlled by narrative of fear may be demonised by those who perceive this as reckless or irresponsible. But there are too many perspectives on our current circumstances for anyone to claim theirs as the whole truth and nothing but. The voice of inner-authority, of confident self-determination, of those willing to look risk in the face and still choose life, will become louder.

The North Node’s passage through Gemini will reveal the power of thought and of a sovereign mind. It will show us how precious flexibility is, and how destructive ongoing isolation can be. It reminds us to spare a thought for all who suffer mentally and physically in isolation and quarantine. It reminds us to reach out to them, to speak of them, to refuse to forget those whose home has become a punishing prison cell. Whose emotional well-being – and even physical safety – has been sacrificed in a world controlled by fear of physical disease.

Venus retrograde: untangling our thoughts

One week after the North Node’s arrival in Gemini, Venus turns retrograde in the same sign (13th May – 25th June 2020), helping us make the inner shift to prepare for more changes in our outer world. Venus’s retrograde passage provides us an opportunity to process with greater ease the impact of the past few months on our psychological well-being. For some, isolation has been rich and fertile with creativity and fresh perspectives. Less so for others. The best and the worst in humanity has been showcased as people come together to both support and shame, depending upon the prevailing narrative of the moment. Venus retrograde will help us untangle our thoughts about it all and enjoy our inalienable right to our own opinion whether or not it aligns with the dominant one. There has been an alarming clamp down on freedom of speech and thought on the topic of Covid-19. Venus retrograde in Gemini will help us relax into the sovereignty of our own mind and the well-being that arises from clarity of thought. At the same time, it primes us for the North Node’s passage through Gemini during which we will all have our perspective shifted to some extent, even as we claim the right to discern as we see fit.

Flexibility is key

Between now and the beginning of 2022 we’ll learn the value of communication and wider community. It will become easier to lift ourselves out of an emotional swamp into a lighter energy of creative and innovative thought. If you feel the call to write, do it. Getting those words on a page may just reveal understanding that could come to light no other way. Share your thoughts with others, but let it go if they don’t agree. Gemini allows all perspectives to exist – it’s accepting that way. Such flexibility of thought has the potential to birth a future otherwise out of reach.

Indeed, flexibility is the key to our current and future well-being. The more rigid we are around how life unfolds from here, the greater we’ll suffer when it takes its own course. Gemini is one of the most adaptable signs in the zodiac. It provides the ability to roll with life’s punches and still move ahead without too much convalescence required! Whatever you believe will happen next, always retain some space for the unexpected and unimaginable. Both will be knocking hard on the door, so be sure to open it wide! A bright future depends on a creative response to what stands on the other side.

Sarah Varcas

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12x19 Deconstruction: Cas and Kelly, and Most of the Episode

Oh, this episode. This episode has me salivating with inspiration and a bit of worship - the structure is so damn good I want to just use it as a private staple from here on out. (I won’t.) (Or will I?...) Okay, let’s move onto the actual focus of this deconstruction: the baby. I have stated again and again how...

I do not believe the baby is evil - I believe it’s good. 

So let me here give you my foremost reasons for why I so firmly believe this, but first, can we just do a slow clap for the amazing work of writers Robert Berens and Meredith Glynn and the stunning job done on this episode by director Amanda Tapping? Thank you. (Yes, okay, let’s stop now.)

I’m going to have to dip into the entirety of this episode now in order to make my reasons for believing the baby is of the Good stick. I’ll spend an extra moment on the pivotal scene in the motel room, but honestly, this episode is so Cas/Kelly focused that it’s impossible not to look at the entirety of both of their story lines through every beat of this forty-two minute blitz of deep character development for Cas. It’s fucking amazingly crafted. Again, prostrated on the floor, Writers.

But what about Destiel?

Well, of course this is a Destiel heavy episode, and for very good reasons, too, but I’m going to discuss Dean as he relates to Cas’ character arc this time around, rather than how they both relate to their joint love story arc. (Okay, the love story arc will be part of this discussion because it can’t not be, but it won’t be in focus.) (There will be Destiel.) (Wait COME BACK I SAID THERE WILL BE DESTIE—… Good. Hi. There will be Destiel. Okay? Just alittlemoreCasKellybabydiscussionshhhhhhh let’s begin now.)

So, then: Why Is the Baby Good?

Oh, boy. The answer is a long and complex one, because it doesn’t really occur in one scene, rather it just keeps coming at you throughout the episode. And it starts as early as the recap sequence, where we’re reminded of Dagon’s role as Protector. The dialogue where she convinces Kelly to come with her is chilling, and significant:

Dagon: I’m a demon - you’re Rosemary, complete with baby. Kelly, the angels, the Wincesters, the good guys - they want you dead, but I can protect you. I can protect your son.

Even though Kelly might have had reservations, what happens when the Winchesters decide to interfere, tricking Kelly and more or less kidnapping her against her will, really only serves to prove one thing: they have nothing on Dagon.

Sam: We want to help. Kelly: You call this helping?

Kelly has no faith in them whatsoever and when Dagon comes for her, she’s resigned to go with her - there’s no salvation to be had here, the Winchesters, whatever their motivation, can’t protect her or her child.

THE OPENING SCENE

The opening scene of 12x19 gives us a harrowing setup, immediately declaring the new relationship between Kelly and Dagon as Dagon is now Kelly’s Captor - the Protector role long gone. Dagon forces vitamins down Kelly’s throat as Kelly’s refusing them. Kelly’s appearance is filthy, her expression vacant: all hope has gone from her. The following exchange (shortened) is, however, intriguing to the extreme in terms of foreshadowing:

Dagon: Stop disrespecting the god inside of you. Kelly: He’s gonna kill me. Dagon: Yeah. And he’s not gonna stop there. Every sad, weak human; every tight ass angel; every snivelling demon - they’ll all be consumed.

Now, I would like to draw your eye away from the narrative of the entire series, and instead focus you on the contained narrative of this specific episode. Everything interlaces gorgeously either way, and the whole of the series is reflected in the prisms of the character arcs of this episode, but putting that aside, let’s simplify it, for simplicity’s sake.

Dagon is not only a Prince of Hell, she’s Lucifer’s closest, she’s acting directly under his orders, but, in the context of the narrative of this episode, she is not a parallel to Lucifer: she is a representative of Evil, of darkness, of death and of destruction. She is everything bad in this world, every last minute of suffering and heartbreak. She is representative of the end to all things. She declares this in her speech: all will be consumed, and she’s delighting in the thought.

(This is, of course, in perfect linkage with Lucifer’s arc this season: he’s breaking daddy’s toys and he just created the ultimate weapon of mass destruction, but I’m adding that as an aside. In the narrative of this episode Dagon is a representative of all Evil, not just the evil of Lucifer.)

Now, after Dagon has drained every last morsel of any possibility that hope might rekindle within Kelly, we witness one of the most horrifyingly realistic and absolutely amazingly shot and acted suicides I’ve ever seen on television. It has such cinematic quality, it’s so deeply sad and moving, that I again send out kudos, this time especially to the amazing Courtney Ford. Because wow, what a performance.

Now, the act of Kelly killing herself is tied into the overarching theme of the show: that of sacrificing yourself to save the world, to do what is right; but moreover it’s also tied to the S12 prevailing theme of parenthood. Kelly tells her son she’s sorry, she loves him, but she can’t allow him to be the cause of so much suffering - she’ll sooner kill them both. This is what Dagon’s words have brought her to: suicide.

Of course, the baby saves her life, only to have Dagon taunt Kelly’s newfound faith in her son - telling her that her son doesn’t want her alive, he saved her to save himself. He’ll kill Kelly when he’s born and then Dagon will raise him, nurture him, teach him to kill - like a mother should. Yup, there’s that parenthood theme again, now firmly tying itself with Dagon’s character arc. (I do believe this theme has been there in practically every single episode this season and I’ve been loving it.) (In case that hasn’t been made clear by previous posts.)

THE REUNION/MIXTAPE EXCHANGES

I’ve gone into deep-deconstruction mode on this already and won’t do so here, except to take a closer look at Cas and his motivations in this scene, and the following one with Dean and the (I still get so giddy at the very thought) mixtape.

We know what the brothers don’t: Cas has been approached by the angels to assist Heaven in tracking down Kelly Kline. So as soon as Cas delivers that line about going to the angels, thinking they might help with Dagon, we as the audience know he is lying, and that he’s clearly not back at the Bunker to ask Dean and Sam for help or even to be honest with them.

Cas is having to go behind their backs - and he’s distressed about it.

Damn is Misha good in this scene. Okay, back on track.

Cas can’t stand deceiving the people who trust him, and the fact that Dean is so pissed off with him doesn’t make things any easier, but Cas has to do this, because if he doesn’t, Dean or Sam will have to kill Kelly and her baby and he knows what that will do to them. Oh, he knows it very well, even before he asks Dean if the brothers could kill an innocent, because he knows that they’d never get over it.

This ties in with what Dean told him in that Let’s Have an Impromptu Lunch Date scene from 10x09, in which Dean tells Cas that some things you have to forget about, confessing to this being the opposite of what he does. So now, with Kelly Kline and her child, Cas can’t have that. He’s protecting Dean, and he’s protecting Sam, as he always has done. As he’s learned you’re supposed to do for the people you love, and he’s learned this from Dean, whom he considers a role model, someone who has always been the one to guide him through the human experience, advising and berating him in equal measure, but, more than anything else, showing him true loyalty and friendship.

Cas’ confession to Dean - honesty amidst the lying - says so much about what his mental state has been ever since he was told he was expendable in S11. He’s been carrying that feeling with him ever since then, he’s been low on energy for all of S12, feeling tired and despondent, and verbalising this when he tells Dean that he needed to come back with a win for him, then adding that extremely significant “for myself”, this moment, and this particular bit of Cas exposition, is so important for how the rest of the episode shapes up.

Because Cas’ starting point is all things Bad: duty is forcing him to lie to his friends, his family, in order to get that win, in order to do what’s right and protect the people he loves by making a choice for them. His hopelessness and willingness to selfless sacrifice is mirrored in Kelly’s attempted suicide: their character arcs’ starting points in the episode are the same, moving them onto a conjoined path of Good where they begin to share a need of protecting the baby. (No, they’re not brainwashed into it by.) (No, they’re not being controlled.) (Hang on, I’m getting to it, I promise.) (Okay, let’s skip ahead to...)

MOTEL ROOM EXCHANGE

Cas is now, in effect, acting as Kelly’s Captor. He is escorting Kelly - and her unborn child - to a place where both of them will die. He’s doing this because he believes it’s right - just as Dagon did - only Cas is Dagon’s complete Opposite. As demonstrated in this scene. 

Even before this, when Cas is telling Kelly his plan to take her to Heaven, where she and the baby will die, but peacefully, he’s still regretful, even though he’s more Castiel - soldier of the Lord - in that exchange than I believe we’ve seen him in quite some time. This because he has a determined mission, these are his imperatives, and this is his plan: this is Cas with a purpose. He states the facts to Kelly, in that scene in the truck, without much emotion or circumvention.

But then, this following exchange takes place in the motel room:

Kelly: Something happened to me, Castiel. I lost hope, I tried to… I killed myself. I slit my wrists. I died. And then… he saved me. He brought me back to life. Cas: That was the pulse. We felt that in Heaven. Kelly: His power. His soul surged through me and it was good. Pure. I feel-… I know he is good. Cas: Kelly, what your child did that’s testament to his power, but it’s not proof of some goodness. He needs you alive. Kelly: Maybe. Or maybe it was a miracle. Maybe everything that I’ve been through, everything that I still have to go through is happening for a reason. Maybe it’s part of some plan. Cas: No, it isn’t. I used to believe in a plan. I used to believe that I had some mission. But I have been through enough now to know that everyone is just winging it. Some of us quite badly. Lucifer - he’s just breaking toys, he’s sowing destruction and chaos and there is no grand purpose at work. And there’s no special role for you. When Lucifer took over Rooney’s body, I’m sorry, you were just there. Kelly: I know my baby can be good for this world. Cas: Kelly, if he’s born… That is not something you can survive. So even if you are right, and even if the worst isn’t inevitable, then who will care for him when you’re gone? Who? Who is strong enough to protect him and to keep him from evil influences and to keep him on the righteous path? …What? Kelly: He just kicked… Do you wanna? Cas: Oh… No. Kelly: It’s not a big deal, Castiel - he does it like ten times a day.

Let’s talk about this now. Let’s look at the words chosen for this exchange. Let’s YouTube the sucker and look at the scene again and really let all of the details sink in, especially with regards to how these two characters interact. 

Cas is quite stand offish when the scene begins and they’ve just entered the room. He’s a little impatient, annoyed at the error of the truck breaking down, at not knowing how to fix it (thinking of Dean Dean Dean), and - remembering what happened last time he let Kelly go to the restroom alone - he promptly escorts her out of the small bathroom and has her sit on the bed.

He then fetches her the water.

If there wasn’t a difference between him and Dagon before, this is where we really begin to notice it. In his Captor role, all he’s doing is done because he believes it’s right - just as Dagon did - and the fact that he’s taken up her cape becomes even clearer during his dialogue with Kelly, when he almost verbatim repeats Dagon’s words back at Kelly regarding her son: saving his mother’s life doesn’t prove the child is good, the child needs his mother alive in order to survive.

Kelly begins her rebuttal speech to this statement in an over-zealous, almost devout way - the same, nearly startling, conviction on her face that she had while speaking to Dagon about the baby having saved her life. This could be the look of someone under the influence of a supernatural being - but because of what comes after it, because of the dialogue chosen for these two characters, I believe this is the Good Mother showing her utter devotion to her child. She is not being influenced to convince Cas. 

Why not?

The answer actually lies within Cas’ speech to her about there not being any grand scheme afoot here, there is no plan, no greater purpose. He tries to bring Kelly down to the level he’s at with his faith, which is - after everything he’s been through - at zero. He tries to make her see reason, the way he’s been forced to. 

Because God has left. Actually, God left a very long time ago. Cas was never following God’s orders and the disillusionment this caused in him chipped away at every ounce of belief until he was left with this emptiness. Heaven may be more or less in order, but at what cost? Lucifer was let out of the cage because of a decision Cas made and managed to produce a nephilim on his watch so it’s little wonder Cas feels responsible. No wonder Cas needs Kelly to hear him. She will die either way and her baby? 

Oh, yes, here’s the clinch. This is it. This is the piece of dialogue that sealed it for me. Cas says:

Cas: Who is strong enough to protect him and to keep him from evil influences and to keep him on the righteous path?

And not only is it that the dialogue makes use of that incredibly significant word “righteous”, but even more than that is it the action that follows it - when the baby kicks.

I yelped at the mention of the word “righteous” because not only is it another callback, but it takes us all the way back to 4x16, and Cas telling Dean that line of dialogue of how the righteous man who began it is the one who will end it. Yes, it was all a rouse to get Dean to become Michael’s vessel. The dick angels played Dean and they played Cas and this is where Team Free Will really began. But see? This is where Team Free Will really began.

To Cas, Dean has always been The Righteous Man because Cas could see what the others couldn’t. That’s why he beat Dean up in that alley - because he knew Dean was better than that. And what if - it’s a big if - but what if Kelly’s right and Cas is wrong believing there isn’t a plan? It doesn’t take away Free Will. It just means that to reach the end result of the plan - which, to me, is endgame represented in a balance between Heaven, Hell and Earth - the people entrusted with this task need to make the right choices. They need to have faith, show trust in each other and work together.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, into the conjecture part of the proceedings. I apologise.

As if making me yelp by bringing up the word “righteous” wasn’t enough, then the look on Cas’ face when he places his hand on Kelly’s stomach made my heart ache for him. This is Cas as we’ve come to know him, someone who loves and is in awe of humanity, and how it can create life. That smile is something we’ve never seen on Cas’ face before. 

He’s more human than angel in this moment.

And this is what the baby responds to when it shows Kelly a flash of the future: I would assume it’s Lucifer rising, Cas stepping in front of Kelly saying “You stay away from her”. Cas, in complete contrast to Dagon, who thought of Kelly as disposable waste, is protecting the baby’s mother. This is why the baby now chooses Castiel. It happens in this moment. Cas goes from being Captor, to being Protector.

THE WINCHESTERS

All I’m going to put in here, because this scene of the brothers arriving to the motel room will be tackled in the 12x20 meta I’ll start working on tomorrow (I hope) (Fuck, it’s midnight.) (Okay.) (Yeah, I won’t finish that this weekend. Grr.) But what I’m going to add in here is Kelly’s attitude to the Winchesters:

Kelly: Sam and Dean, they want to take away his power because they’re scared.

This line of dialogue is delivered as Cas and Kelly have stolen the Impala and revved out of the motel parking lot. In this scene Cas learns that the baby has chosen him. He tries to tell Kelly that he’s not fit to protect her, in dialogue restating for the third time in this episode how useless he thinks he is.

Dean, I just keep failing. Again and again.

But I have been through enough now to know that everyone is just winging it. Some of us quite badly.

I am not someone that you should put your faith in, Kelly.

And Kelly responds with this:

Kelly: I don’t know why it’s me, and I don’t know why it’s you, but I know that we are destined for something here. Something great. Cas: I wish I had your faith. Kelly: You will.

They start out in the same place this episode: faithless. But Kelly, through her son soul surging through her - a power felt even in Heaven - saving her life, now has complete faith, and puts some of it, if not all of it, in Cas being the right choice. She trusts him implicitly. In a sense, she steps in as his spirit guide. She has good cause to trust him, too - even though he’s taking her to Heaven to die: he didn’t kill her in cold blood, he went with the diplomatic route by allowing her to choose. He went with the route of Free Will. 

Cas has always been a representation of what is Good in humanity: love, loyalty, perseverance, selflessness.

Even in his darkest moments, those moments have only come about because of these staple traits to his character. And his inability to involve others in his choices - which is inspired by who again? Oh, yes, that’s right - Dean Winchester’s inability to involve others in his choices, Dean making choices for those he loves, always feeling and always carrying that weight of the world that makes everything and everyone his responsibility. Is it any wonder then, that Cas is forever trying to share in the burden? All he’s ever done since placing his hand on Dean in Hell has been to try and help Dean. But unfortunately, this need has never lead Cas to anything but catastrophe - because he needs to root the need in his own wants and needs, not what he believes Dean wants and needs from him.

So, leaving Destiel (told you there’d be a touch of love in this post) I’ll restate as a short reminder:

Dagon represents Evil Castiel represents Goodness

Let me say it once more time, because it hones into the point I want to make (you know, the one about the goodness of Lucifer’s son): Cas and Dagon are each other’s mirror Opposites in this narrative and it’s so extremely well-written I can barely even stand it. Seriously. I’m like wringing my hands and pulling on my hair over here, my brain crackling like I’m going absolutely mental over it. (I kind of am.)

The Evil one starts out on a power trip believing she is destined to rule all, next to Lucifer, while the Good one starts out feeling lost and powerless. Can you see how they built this narrative into an X? The Evil and the Good meeting in the middle, where Cas gets his hands on Kelly, and Dagon is left being screamed at by her now finally terrifying again - even though he’s still chained up - boss from Hell? And how the narrative again splits as we move towards that final scene and Castiel spreading his proverbial feathered wings? Oh, there is such glory here I now want to cry. (Not really.) (Yeah, kinda really, actually.)

WWCD

Now we come to the root of the matter. We come to that thing that makes me believe, more than anything else in this episode, that this baby is good. 

If the fact that Dagon so clearly represents Evil that will Destroy the Universe and Cas so clearly represents everything that is Opposite to this (i.e. the future) isn’t enough to convince you, then let me tackle Cas’ character development in this laser-focused narrative of one episode. Let me tell you how I have waited, and waited, for Cas to get his comeuppance. Ever since that heartbreaking moment in 11x10 when first his own angelic sister, and then this woman who has bewitched the man he loves, told Cas that he was expendable, what little self-worth he’d gathered over the years, whatever belief in his own capabilities, just drained from him completely.

We all saw it.

It was so goddamn painful to watch, and it has so clearly lingered, like something heavy, ever since Lucifer was exorcised from him in 11x22. (The fact that Dean couldn’t open up in that damned (beautiful) Brologue in 11x23 didn’t help the matter.) 

As for Cas and Dean this season, which has been such an influence on Cas’ character arc - as ever it was - it has been intriguing and exciting to watch the undercurrent of unspoken things between them. There has been such a snappy annoyance there, practically every time they’ve been in the same room together, that it’s been entertaining and gorgeously frustrating at the same time. The UST has been thick enough to cut through with a dull knife, especially on Dean’s part, where Jensen’s body language has just gotten tenser and tenser as the season has progressed. (And then there’s the Rock Star Leather Jacket of Sex moment.) (After Dean serenades Cas on the guitar, of course.) (All look at me, look at me, I’m not just a lumberjack, I’ll sing songs, I’ll sing songs.) (I love this show.) 

Cas has been mostly confounded by it all, mirroring Dean’s annoyance and feeling, more than ever, like he doesn’t belong. Like there’s no place for him anywhere. So that heavy feeling has progressively gotten worse. And when he picked up that angel blade and killed Billie, that choice was riding on the back of walking into that fight with Lucifer, not caring for his own safety in the least. Because this is the thing: Cas sees himself as the hammer. He sees himself as the expendable first wave, clearing the way for the real heroes, because this is his deepest fear pertaining to his character arc: that this is all he is to the brothers and, furthermore, that this is all he is capable of being.

The first half of this season (and most of S11) was heavily focused on this for Cas’ character arc. He has lost all faith in himself after making all those horrendous choices that have gotten angels and humans killed, that has devastated Heaven. Not only has he been labeled expendable, but, especially this season, he’s been called the Winchesters’ purse dog, attack dog - dog, dog, dog. This, I feel, is to demonstrate the role he has assigned himself in their dynamic: the hammer and the shield. It’s a vicious fearful circle because he plays the part afraid that if he doesn’t there is no place for him with the brothers, not seeing that neither brother expects him to play this part. (As demonstrated over and over this season, and finally coming to a head in 12x12 where the brothers, at last, take a stand for him and show him that he is truly one of them. Only... there is still that one thing missing, of course. But I shan’t digress!) 

What this episode does, with such amazingly even beats, is not only remind us of Cas’ past - which is why it’s so wonderfully Destiel heavy, fitting perfectly with Dean’s character arc and furthering their joint love story arc in what is nothing short of writing gold - but this episode also tells us of where Cas is at right now: that soldier of Heaven who blazed into Dean’s life with the confidence, the arrogance, of someone who knows they work for God himself, that soldier left Cas a long time ago.

He’s learned that there is no reason to have faith, because no one is watching over you. You’re on your own. What he needs to be reminded of is that, though this may be true, this means, more than anything, that you should have faith in yourself.

And this is what his character arc has been all about. From the very first. Choosing Free Will does not mean throwing yourself headfirst into impossible situations, it does not mean sacrificing yourself without a thought for the consequences, it does not mean taking all the responsibility on yourself, always. Free Will simply means asking yourself “What do I want?” And Cas has never once done that. Cas needs to find his way into his own individuality, into his own self. As mentioned, he’s been so lost because all he’s ever done is relate himself to Dean and what Dean might need or want from him. This is as stunting as the brothers’ codependency. Cas loves Dean, but Dean cannot be his only reason to feel love, because that will keep Cas from growing as a person. 

So how can Cas grow as a person then? Well, Dean is human and yes, he does represent humanity, but Cas has watched over humanity since long before Dean was born. Cas’ love for humanity itself - his deep awe of his father’s creation is what is now giving Cas - through this baby - a sense of purpose that isn’t tied to Dean. (And still is tied to Dean. I know, this narrative is so deliciously complex.) Cas wants to help. He’s restated that over and over and over again. This is his foremost motivation: to help and to protect. He isn’t a hammer and he isn’t an attack dog. And this is why the baby chose him as its mother’s Protector.

It’s very telling to me how Kelly consistently calls Cas “Castiel”. She never once calls him Cas, which is quite unusual. Even characters that only share one scene with him have reverted, since early on, to calling him Cas rather than Castiel. We’ve had callbacks to Castiel through Ishim and through Kelvin this season, so is there any wonder that, when Dean watches Cas get powered up, all Dean can see is Castiel? And is there any wonder this freaks him the hell out? Nope. Remembering that badass, fucking terrifying, celestial being who was completely unreliable and unpredictable I would say there is no wonder whatsoever.

FULL-FEATHERED ANGEL

That final scene. Oh, that final scene of the episode. 

Here I would say that Cas passes a final test with flying colours when he confronts Dagon - a Prince of Hell - with nothing but an angel blade, stepping in front of Kelly with a “You stay away from her”, echoing the words he spoke in the flash of the future the baby showed Kelly in the motel room. He will fight and he will die if it means protecting the Good Mother from the Bad Mother. The Protector will shield mother and baby from the Captor - who stands for nothing but suffering. The baby, convinced, works through Kelly and restores Cas’ powers so that Cas will be able to protect them to his absolute fullest capabilities.

Cas is Castiel once more.

Sam: What was that? Cas: It was me. But it was also…

This, I believe, is the beginning of “the better way”. I believe the baby sets them all on a course down the better way, towards a series ending that will have everything to do with balance, but I’ll jot my thoughts down on endgames and such in another post. This one is already balking under the word count. ;)

Now, I say “Cas is Castiel” - but what I mean is that, of course, he’s still Cas. Like he even says himself: “It was me.” The difference is that, this time, instead of lacking faith, instead of fearing making the wrong choice, as he has done on so many other occasions when shouldering the weight of the world, he knows now what has to be done, and he knows - because he believes, finally, in himself - that this is the right thing to do. This will bring peace, this will bring balance, this child is innocent and as long as he’s kept from Lucifer he will grow up good. And it will change everything for the better.

This moment - this reward, this win - for Cas’ choices throughout the episode, is what the story arc has been moving towards. He began convinced mother and baby had to die for the greater good, and now he knows that for the good to be great, the baby must live. This, again, reflects Kelly’s journey in that opening scene and their mutual tie to the baby loops around Cas with the theme of parenthood, which has already been explored in his character arc through Claire and his need to make amends for taking Jimmy from her.

This further’s my conviction that, in a season dealing with Good Parents vs Evil Parents, this Good Parent coupling (don’t worry, I don’t mean that in a sexual way, simply a spiritual way) underlines the fact that the baby is not controlling them. It’s clearly influencing them, showing them flashes of what can be if they make the right choices and sure, this could be construed as it lying to them, manipulating them, and that the twist will be that we’re lulled into a sense of security, but the baby turns out to have been evil all along, but it doesn’t fit with the tone of the episode or Cas’ deeply personal and profound character evolution he’s afforded for making the right choice.

There’s also the visual of the white light that is mingling with the hellfire in Cas eyes as he kills Dagon...

...and how the baby used Cas to kill her: the baby wasn’t protecting itself, the baby was always protecting its mother. I’ll restate that the parenthood theme throughout the season has dictated that the Bad, Negligent, Selfish, Evil Parent is dealt with: this type of parenting is inadvisable, to say the least. (And it goes so brilliantly with Dean’s character arc and his need to settle everything with the past in order to move into his brighter future that I can’t even.)

Dagon’s speech to Kelly about how her son was going to be raised by Dagon into killing everything, I believe, sealed Dagon’s fate and helps to underline my point: this child does not want to kill everything. It does not want to kill its mother. There is love in this child already. And why shouldn’t there be? It’s grandfather is God himself, the child has angel grace in it, it’s just as linked to Heaven as it is to Hell, and more than that, of course, it is a product of humanity. 

(And this is why it’s powerful enough to oversee all three and bring order to the chaos of this world, where angels were never meant to walk among humans and where demons are running amok. I don’t think it’s by chance that Dagon refers to the baby as “the god inside you” to Kelly. This child has the power to be the new God - but he would be so with faith in his grandfather’s creation, and an iron fist for those that disobey him.) (I could discuss Chuck’s shortcomings as a father and how that has lead to the creation of this nephilim to begin with, but not here. Nope.)

I want this scenario so badly now that I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s such a glorious loop back to how this all began. With Azazel and Sam, with Dean and the 66 seals, with Lucifer like this dark shadow over both their lives, over the lives of their parents, and Chuck somewhere in the peripheral, the angels always watching, and here we now come upon the final confrontation and it’s all just tying up into a beautiful tapestry of perfection. WRITERS I LOVE YOU. EVEN IF I’M COMPLETELY WRONG, I SHOULD ADD. *shouty*

What about that final moment between Cas and the brothers? What about that final shot of the brothers knocked out and Cas and Kelly driving away? Ominous anyone? Well. No, actually. I take other things from it, because here’s what leads up to it. 

Cas: You’re hurt.

I mean. Do I even really need to comment on this moment? There’s such tenderness here, such sudden intimacy, and I feel it bodes well. Cas has gotten his mojo back and with it he feels more himself than he has in a long time. I believe returning to his angelic form is imperative for Cas to choose to become human, but I’ll explore that in my spec post. Back to the scene...

Because then:

Dean: Cas? Are you okay? Cas: I am. I’ve been so lost. I’m not lost anymore. I know now this baby must be born, with all of his power. Sam: You can’t actually mean that. Cas: Yes, I do. I have faith.

And then:

Cas: You have to just trust me.

And then:

Dean: No, no, no, whatever that thing did to you we’re not gonna let you just walk away.

Especially Dean’s comment is what is important to me here, because not only does he protest three times with those repeated “no”s, but he also calls the child “that thing” and unequivocally hints that the brothers are going to fight to keep Cas there. So Cas knocks them out, because he’s leaving and where he’s going they can’t come with him. Especially if they’re going to refer to the child as a “thing”. Sorry, Dean, lights out for you.

Cas asks the brothers to trust him. Okay, he more or less tells them to, but he does it with an ease about him. As though he expects them to, because he knows he’s trustworthy and because he knows he’s right this time around. Bringing up trust in this moment, to me, is also significant, because Cas is trusting himself for the first time in a long time, and he wants that trust reciprocated. Team Free Will. When they don’t, not only does he make the decision of proceeding alone, he also knocks them out to protect them, to keep them from following, because what’s another glaring detail that hints toward Cas being Cas is that Cas - again underlined as the Opposite of Dagon - does not zap Kelly and him out of there.

Instead, they get in the truck - you know, the truck that Dean fixed with his own bare hands...

...and they drive off.

The mournful tune at the end signals, to me, that FOR FUCK’S SAKE AGAIN YOU GUYS CAN’T JUST GET YOUR HEAD’S OUT OF YOUR ASSES AND WORK TOGETHER IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TEAM FREE WILL! Then again, maybe that’s me projecting my frustration. :)

Either way, I’m not worried now. I believe the team will reassemble in the season finale.

So, in conclusion, these are all the reasons why I believe the baby is Good and that we are headed good places. Through hellfire and death and tons and tons of worry, of course.

Thanks, as ever, for your time and your patience!

#spn meta #spn 12x19 #castiel #kelly kline #lucifer's son #spn #destiel

[theticklefox-blog]

Snatch the Series: My Review

Note: this will contain spoilers, so read no further if you haven’t watched the series yet. It will also contain negative opinions on some issues, so if the show was everything you ever wished for... this isn’t for you and I don’t want to upset you. Just enjoy the GIFs (which betray my biases) and skip the rest.

I really, really wanted to like Snatch.   Honest I did. I keenly anticipated it from the moment it was announced, despite my not being a huge fan of Guy Richie or the film version. The previews made the show look energetic and fun and most of the actors are consistently good, and playing types of characters they’re not necessarily known for, which I always appreciate.  Also, fans of the other actors, Luke Pasqualino and Rupert Grint in particular, were very kind and helpful in providing news, BTS video and rare photos as the series filmed, and were-- mostly-- good about not posting spoilers without a warning.

So it saddens me to report  I found the show more annoying than involving. A large part of that is due to the slipshod writing, underwritten characterization and reliance on jarring edits and often “WTF?!” character motivations and action that made it difficult for me to care about the protagonists (or even perceive them as protagonists, really... let’s say The Young Pretty People The Writers Clearly Wanted Us To Like.) 

Mostly I’m upset Marc Warren’s considerable talents were wasted on such a grand scale. So much could have been made of Bob Fink in the hands of a more creative writing staff... every week on Fargo and Better Call Saul, to name just two current examples, corrupt cops and wannabe gangsters (who are often the same characters) have rich, unpredictable storylines which give talented actors a broad canvas on which to showcase their talents and play off one another. But the Fink charter is merely insulted by everyone in his orbit from the beginning (which, frankly, just made me sympathize with him), marginalized in most of the plot and never given enough to do. 

I suspect Ed Westwick fans are also somewhat frustrated that Westwick, who was front and center in most of the promotion,  was too easily dispensed with in episode four, and that most of his colorful momements were actually given away the commercials. 

I'm still baffled by Marc’s treatment in that promotion. His name was literally never mentioned once by other actors or by the show’s Twitter, Facebook and Instagram feeds, though he’s the closest thing to a main antagonist the show has. (Photos of his character appeared, but Marc was never named.)  Did Marc want to avoid being part of the publicity? Was it some sort of misguided decision by the marketing staff because Marc is relatively unknown here, or even because a handful of people keep whining about how much they disliked his character on The Good Wife? I just don’t get it. I’d like some answers about this.

But the promotional absurdities wouldn’t  matter if Marc had been given a decent role to play, and he was shorted in that department too... Fink could have been a great villain or a great tragic character, but, despite some great acting moments from Marc, he wasn’t allowed to be either. The character is bullied, deceived and marginalized by both his gangster friends and corrupt police associates, yet  the writing kept implying he deserved this without ever providing proof. 

Then there was the Vic Hill character, who the writers clearly intended to be charming, but I saw only a thuggish man-child who continuously jeopardizes his family and bullies his perceived underlings. I hated him from the beginning and he only got worse. Dougray Scott’s hammily overdone performance didn’t help matters. I was on Bob’s side pretty much from the start... if only the writers had a clue about nuance and a willingness to challenge their audience or divide it, but... no. There was no character depth to speak of anywhere.

As for the young leads... the old kiddie ganster musical Bugsy Malone kept popping into my head. i couldn’t take them seriously as adults despite the fact these actors are in their late 20s-early 30s and more than capable of playing bona fide adults if they’d been given a decent script. Instead they were given hoary paint-by-numbers plot cliches cribbed from every gangster movie since the 1920s, padded out by clumsily-executed heist sequences and flashbacks that played like music videos.  

In some ways it seemed like the series had two or three episodes worth of material, and the rest was filler, leading to a number of pointless tangents and inexplicable actions. The backstory about the gold was goofy at best, and nice coincidence about it resurfacing exactly when and where Albert, Charlie et al were planning to hijack Sonny’s cash (in an identical truck, no less). The show is full of such cartoonish improbabilities, though none delivered with the verve of an actual cartoon.  

There are repetitive flashback’s of Vic’s original heist (yeah, let’s show Bob getting heaped with more abuse... ), loony side-stories filling in for character development (ie Billy’s whole backstory... what a wasted opportunity that was. Though Lucien Laviscount did a great job with the few subtle dialogue moments he got between having to beat people up and listen to crazy yarns about his parents), repetitive scenes of Charlie getting impaired in various ways, an out-of-nowhere love triangle that seems to be there just to divide the main group, female characters who have too little to do in general except be feisty and supportive (or, in the case of Dwyer, feisty and cuntish)... I get the sense the scripts were all written in the weekend before filming began, and that no one really scrutinized them closely. 

Yes, I’m a Marc Warren fan and am biased. And I knew going in that he was probably playing an antagonist and that he’d get iced in the final episode... I’m used to all of that. Pretty much every actor I’ve ever admired from Lon Chaney Sr onward got typecast as villains or outsiders and got killed onscreen more times than Steve Buscemi does throughout the Coen Brothers’ oeuvre. I don’t have a problem with that. Conventional heroes and the squarejaws who play them bore me. I love complicated characters and character actors who seek out such roles.   

But I don't appreciate youth-obsessed deck-stacking, treating bullies as heroes, and writing which both wants our protagonists to be “bad-ass” or at least risk-taking, yet continuously lets them off the hook, either through miraculous escapes or through having the older characters or one-note side characters take bullets for them or do the dirty work. Full disclosure: I haven’t bothered with the last two episodes because I was so disgusted with what went down in episode 8. I’m pretty sure the Young Pretty People prevailed and that Albert redeemed the sins of his father and finally said something nice to Charlie according to schedule. I can’t say I really care. 

As in The Musketeers, Marc played a bullied, mistreated character who I couldn’t help but care about, both because Marc is such an exquisite actor even in marginal roles, and because I tend to side with complicated or oppressed characters, not with self-described “heroes”.  In both shows, despite being the nominal villain, his character was shunted to the sidelines for too much of the duration, then suddenly given a lot of screentime just before being ganged up on and killed off.  So yeah, the worst kind of deja vu... in The Musketeers at least Rochefort had some fun or powerful moments, and I understood that the show’s episodic structure hindered a more nuanced character through-line. 

But Snatch has no such excuses. Also: couldn’t Bob and Charlie have had a sustained sequence or conversation without annoying cutaways to more trivial matters, like Vic torturing Charlie’s butler (which was played for laughs! God how I hated Vic...)? And why did Bob keep leaving the apartment? Apart from more plot-padding I mean? Why didn’t Bob shoot Vic when he had the chance? Because he really should have. Why was the whole tiresome side trip to America necessary, given how easily Billy got the diamonds back? Much of the plot strains on like that, making no sense. 

The Snatch showrunners keep comparing their efforts to Fargo, Noah Hawley’s brilliant offshoot of the Coens’ film (of all their films, really)... they need to stop doing this. It does them no favors and it makes me pine for Marc to get cast on Hawley’s show (or anything by Vince Gilligan) instead. Yes, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, because the writers on those shows know something about ambiguity, character development, unpredictable plotting, creative musical cues, and, most essentially, how to hire great character actors and write roles worthy of them, then give them room to breathe onscreen.   Hawley or Gilligan would’ve known what to do with Bob Fink. They could’ve done for Marc what they’ve done for Giancarlo Esposito, Bryan Cranston, Jonathan Banks, Bokeem Woodbine, Alison Tolman... even established stars like Ewen McGregor  and Billy Bob Thornton have shown new capabilities on Fargo. I would donate my left kidney to see Marc on one of those shows, whereas if the Snatch crew had created Breaking Bad... I'm sure Walter White would’ve been killed off in season one while the balance of the show went on to document the hijinks of Badger and Skinny Pete.   

I know I’ve gone on long enough, but I'm still bitter. ;) Marc Warren has really scaled back his acting commitments in recent years. I have no idea why, whether his priorities now lie elsewhere (and it’s none of my business to guess where), or whether he’s just not getting the calibre of role he’d like... if Snatch and Audible “Audio dramas” are the best he’s being offered, it must be very frustrating, but I don't want to judge his choices when I have no idea why they were made. Marc rarely gives interviews these days.  He has said in the past that Mad Dogs arose from the poor quality of roles offered him at that time. If he and his actor friends wanted to crowdfund something along those lines I would do everything in my power to promote that or help. If Marc simply wants to focus his attentions elsewhere and not act so often, that’s perfectly within his rights as well. Of course he owes me nothing. I hope that when he appears at Birmingham’s Collectormania fancon to do signings next month (June 3) he’ll give us a hint of some kind. (Don’t worry, Marc, I won’t be there... I only do the fangirl thing from a distance.) 

Anyhow... with Marc doing so few projects lately, it’s incredibly frustrating to wait months for something like Snatch, that so consistently fails to deliver. Marc does the best he can and has some great moments in spite of the limits he’s working under. As I’ve said, there was the potential for a great, messy, complicated character there. He deserved so much better.

#marc warren #snatch the series #bob fink #review #fargo #better call saul #bad show writing #fangirl problems

[anthonybialy]

Success at Failing

The upside is there aren't as many broken-bottle stabbings in contemporary America as anticipated.  Still, factions screaming at each other about different things is exhausting even without bloodshed.  Like most arguments these days, the raucous debaters don't even bother to check the topic first.  That would waste valuable snarling time.

Modern freedom fighters want to exterminate those who dare think our stupid government might be bad at getting an economy purring.  That's fine. But could we at least agree on the terms?  It's not just semantics to note there's a difference between our country being in good shape and what policies actually create that.  Now's the time for shrieks about what “semantics” means.

It doesn't even matter which incorrect question one answers.  The wrong response determines whether you love America or want to live in Mexico with all the other commies.  It's too bad we can't agree on what's being asked.  The shouting makes it tricky to hear grammatical tone.  Also, nobody can recognize sarcasm.  Oh, that's really great. But it's tough to deliver a line properly over gloating that winning is everything, anyway.  The Patriots are rewarded despite their crimes because it's what 2017 is.

The debate about whether we hope any random president succeeds versus hoping his policies fail to become law is particularly popular following a party change.  But we'd rather bicker about whether we like any suggested policies during the voter suck-up portion of the election instead of wishing everything works for the best after voters choose.  We don't get a do-over no matter how curious the selection.  No matter what, some would rather pretend they're getting deported for having uteri.

We can't even agree what a touchdown is, so don't bother keeping score.  Liberals think everyone's happy if the ball stays at the 50.  Schrödinger's country could be making progress, but there's no consensus on what that would entail.  It's no wonder your Facebook feed is even crankier than usual.  For one, some strange citizens think having the government that can't deliver your mail in charge of your health is a victory for both conscience and wallet.  Similarly, florists prohibited from declining services for what they don't consider to be a wedding in tolerance's name is called progress by some.  Decline is praised, which makes getting ahead difficult.

The Blair Witch Project changed filmmaking.  It's just that idiots in their 20s running around filming inane unscripted moments as shakily as possible may not have been a positive alteration.  How one defines progress affects the debate.  Postmodern politics are too trendy to be interesting.  This is a quantum physics sort of world where observation affects the experiment.  Those who disregard sonograms while claiming gender is a decision claim to be on science's side.

The ability to bend events to one's will is not necessarily a virtue. Just think of who's been president.  Barack Obama was effective at elbowing in on liberty and helping Iran split atoms, but that doesn't quite mean he was good.  Keeping a crummy president from getting the silly things he wants is actually a benefit.  Whichever aide crushes Adderall into Trump's pudding deserves a medal.

Those who think many of the incumbent's schemes are unfortunate can politely suggest alternatives.  Try a firmly-worded Twitter reply, as that's where he spends most of is day.  Hey: he's just like us.  The excessively optimistic can hope he somehow gets swell ideas. Stranger things have happened.  Take his election.  Powerball players can fantasize about a suddenly shrewd id, cheer for his more perspicacious advisers do the actual work, or cross fingers that he'll indulge in his professed willingness to negotiate.  Dreamers have different standards these days.

Americans are praying, and not to the president.  That's going to anger him. Perhaps spiritual guidance will allow sensibility to prevail despite its unpopularity.  A levelheaded cabinet could actually set policy while the chief oaf hogs credit.  That's what would happen on a sitcom, after all, and we may as well titter at the escapades.  Ask your deity to please let Steve Bannon be so consumed by rage that he continues failing, which means Trump will have to fire him.  It's only winners here, right?

A nicer country's better than tossing out a party because everything's unpleasant.  Giving someone else a shot is just takes sometimes. Conservatives weren't cheering against Obama, believe it or not.  We just hated his comically stupid ideas.  The smirking condescension didn't help, but it was mostly what he was saying and not the way he suckered more gullible fellow citizens.  Everyone else was just hoping he stopped having insipid ideas that would make us too poor to notice how bothered we were.  We knew what his policies would do and hoped he'd be distracted by having to sharpen Biden's crayons.

Dwindling liberty fans just hope any random president has a good idea or doesn't wreck the country until we can replace him.  But there are only so many times in a row we can do that.

[yourgodmoments]

Can We Follow Jesus?

“I am the Light of the World; he who follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the Light of life.” Jn. 8:12 NASB

“If anyone wishes to follow Me [as My disciple], he must deny himself [set aside selfish interests], and take up his cross daily [expressing a willingness to endure whatever may come] and follow Me [believing in Me, conforming to My example in living and, if need be, suffering or perhaps dying because of faith in Me].” Lk. 9:23 AMP

If we follow Jesus then, we must be walking in the light, i.e. not in the ways of this world; and that’s a tall order:

…present your bodies [dedicating all of yourselves, set apart] as a living sacrifice, holy and well-pleasing to God, which is your rational (logical, intelligent) act of worship. And do not be conformed to this world [any longer with its superficial values and customs], but be transformed and progressively changed [as you mature spiritually] by the renewing of your mind [focusing on godly values and ethical attitudes], so that you may prove [for yourselves] what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect [in His plan and purpose for you]. Rm. 12:1, 2. AMP

The keyword in the above scripture, is ‘holy.’ If we are to follow Jesus, we must do our best to walk as He walked. Christ walked ‘sinless,’ and He was the only person to have ever done so.

In the Hebrew, ‘holy’ means to be ‘set apart,’ dedicated to sacred purposes,’ morally pure,’ and ‘sinless.’ Other than Jesus, (and His Father), do you know anyone else who is like that? Neither do I. Yet, what does God ask of us?

For God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness. 1 Thess. 4:7 ESV

…He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love… E[h. 1:4 NKJV

What’s the problem? Our sin nature. We focus on overcoming it, but we can’t do it on our own strength.

Sometimes, we look at some of our sins as being just little trangressions that don’t count. And yet, God Himself cannot brook the presence of any sin; and He demands that in order to come into HIs presence, we must be sinless. Is that possible? Can we conform to the image of God and His Son?

…both Jews and Greeks (Gentiles) are all under sin; as it is written, “There is none righteous, not even one..” Rm. 3:9, 10. NASB

Yet, what is the defining demand that is laid upon us?

Pursue peace with everyone, and holiness - without it no one will see the Lord. Heb. 12:14 CSB

Okay. God never asks anything of us, that is not possible to achieve. To be holy is to be steeped in continual righteousness. How does that work out for us from our own efforts?

But we are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags… Is. 64:6 NKJV

So, we cannot do it on our own. We need Jesus:

He made Christ who knew no sin to [judicially] be sin on our behalf, so that in Him we would become the righteousness of God [that is, we would be made acceptable to Him and placed in a right relationship which Him by His gracious lovingkindness]. 2 Cor. 5;21 AMP

It is the only way that we can come to the Father:

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” Jn. 14:6 NKJV

Again, we can’t do it by ourselves. Why? because salvation isn’t achieved by works, but by the grace of God through Christ. (Eph. 2:8, 9.; Gal. 2:16; Titus 3:5)

Why do we need Jesus? Because our sin persists. Praise God for His intervention:

…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God set forth as a propitiation by His blood, through faith, to demonstrate His righteousness, because in His forbearance God had passed over the sins that were previously committed… Rm. 3:23 - 25. NKJV

However, we are not without responsibility:

For if we deliberately go on sinning after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a terrifying expectation of judgment and the fury of a fire about to consume the adversaries. Heb. 10:26, 27. CSB

We must do our best not to willfully sin, we must adopt new attitudes - those which promote living a life that pleases God. Part of that includes having faith in Him and His Son:

And he believed in the LORD, and He accounted it to him for righteousness. Gn. 15:6 NKJV

When we do sin, (and that will be more often that we like), we must approach our Savior immediately with confession and sincere repentance. That way, we can remain in a justified, sanctified state, where God can use us for His higher purposes:

So if anyone purifies himself from anything dishonorable, he will be a special instrument, set apart, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work. 2 Tim. 2:21 CSB

This way, we can remain in adherence to the will of God.

In addition, we must be on the alert for the devil’s attacks. The more we seek God and His will, the greater Satan will come against us - trying to get us to believe that we aren’t good Christians, and that we are not really saved.

The way to get around that is to examine everything that you do, and ask yourself, “Does what I am doing conform to God’s will?”

It is common to be discouraged because we tend to cling to our ‘favorite’ sins. Just because we have accepted Christ, does not mean that Satan is giving up on us. He wants as many of God’s children as he can get, to join him in the lake of fire.

We must find our strength to resist him by focusing on what God has done:

For He has rescued us and drawn us to Himself from the dominion of darkness and has transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son… Col. 1:13 AMP

Yet our sinful nature still resides within us - creating an ongoing war between the spirit and the flesh:

“If you do well [believing Me and doing what is acceptable and pleasing to Me], will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well [but ignore My instruction], sin crouches at your door; its desire is for you [to overpower you], but you must master it.” Gn. 4:7 AMP

In our pre-saved life, we developed a propensity, a predisposition to sin. We chose and still choose to sin. It’s not something that we can’t help; it is a willful act. We can also willfully choose not to, because God has given us an ‘out.’ We just have to be aware and look for it:

No temptation [regardless of its source] has overtaken or enticed you that is not common to human experience [nor is any temptation unusual or beyond human resistance]; but God is faithful [to His word - He is compassionate and trustworthy], and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability [to resist], but along with the temptation He [has in the past and is now and] will [always] provide the way out as well, so that you will be able to endure it [without yielding, and will overcome temptation with joy]. 1 Cor. 10:13 AMP

Realize that in spite of our salvation, our sin nature is not going away:

“…the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth onward.” Gn. 8:21 CSB

But we can call upon the Holy Spirit, who now lives in us, to expose those rebellious urges so that we can do our best, (with Jesus), to overcome our insatiable flesh. The other thing we can do is to avoid the encounters where we are vulnerable.

Satan is the great deceiver. He wants you to be ‘cocky,’ filled with a phantom confidence that you can coexist with your favorite sin, that you have it ‘handled.’ Never.

For whatever reason, this struggle against temptation is a battle God has seen fit that we all wage. Yet, as we’ve seen, it is a series of skirmishes that have the potential for victory. We can call upon the entire Godhead to deliver us before the damage is done.

“Because he set his love on Me, therefore I will save him; I will set him [securely] on high, because he knows My name [he confidently trusts and relies on Me, knowing I will never abandon him, no never].” Ps. 91:14 AMP

Because He Himself [in HIs humanity] has suffered in being tempted, He is able to help and provide immediate assistance to those who are being tempted and exposed to suffering. Heb. 2:18 AMP

But I say, walk habitually in the [Holy] Spirit [seek Him and be responsive to His guidance], and then you will certainly not carry out the desire of the sinful nature [which responds impulsively without regard for God and His precepts]. Gal. 5:16 AMP

We are in battle with the world. To prevail, we need to arm ourselves with a continual immersion in the word of God and exercise prayer to be able to resist the prince of the power of the air and his realm.

Before you engage in any questionable activity, ask yourself 4 questions (from The Pursuit of Holiness by Jerry Bridges):

1. Is it helpful - physically, spiritually and mentally?

2. Does it bring me under its power?

3. Does it hurt others?

4. Does it glorify God?

You would surely be able to qualify if something is potentially sinful by engaging in this inquiry.

Sin is not going to give up; and you will fall from time to time. Yet, we can work on putting on behaviors that are contrary to the nature of our favorite sins. Learn to say ‘no.’ Stay away from environments, habits and people who entice you. Cleanse your thoughts.

You are what you think:

For as he thinks within himself, so is he. Pr. 23:7 NASB

…if anything is excellent and if anything is admirable, focus your thoughts on these things: all that is true, all that is holy, all that is just, all that is pure, all that is lovely, and all that is worthy of praise. Phil. 4:8 CSB

And then, act those thoughts out. Go on the offensive. Make no exceptions. You can walk a holy walk of obedience to your God. Let others know that you are a Christian. It puts you on the spot for God, and that’s a good thing.

You were chosen for this. Yes, you can follow Jesus…

…God from the beginning chose you for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth… 2 Thess. 2:13 NKJV

Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God. 2 Cor. 7:1 ESV

Goodnight and God bless

#barrier to holiness #can we follow Jesus #escaping temptation #holiness requires grace #is holiness possible #our sin nature #resisting the devil #walking in the light #what holy means

[equinelites]

Fight Or Flight Or Finesse: how you can save the world.

FIGHT, FLIGHT, FALL, or FINESSE

 There is so much talk lately about getting what we want by

FIGHTING.

This is especially true in politics.  The 2 sides are so polarized now and the Democrats continually say that the only way to get what they want is to FIGHT.

I would like to propose an alternative.

 I will mention the 2nd and 3rd ways of dealing with conflict, that of Flight and Fall at the end of this article.

For now, the way that will bring about Harmony and oneness in our world, the way that we can get at least some of what we want is the action of   FINESSE’.

Finesse can be defined as:

“An Intricate and refined delicacy” or “An artful subtlety

typically that is needed for tactful handling of a difficulty”.

Is this not a wonderful definition? And I am going to suggest how you may discover this “artful subtlety”.

Mark Nepo is his book, FINDING INNER COURAGE, pg, 214 explains this “artful subtlety” in the following way:

“Each time I muster the fortitude to face a truth about life, about myself, about the messy complexity of relationships I live in; it enables me to stand more soundly and clearly by my core. In turn, each time I inch closer to my core, my ability to see and face things in the world deepens, strengthens, and clarifies. And, so on. This dynamic is how we know where we stand and what is possible between us. This is where the life of courage leads.”

 This artful subtlety is about connecting to the Truth of who we are and then standing from this core of truth. This inner core of truth is the only reality we can have. If we are connected here, we know our feelings, and our thoughts, our perceptions and needs. We know our passions, our dreams and our bottom lines. When we are connected at this level, we are empowered to say “yes” to that which resonates with our core, our true self, and “no” to that which does not resonate.  When we are connected at this level, we do not need to “fight it out”, we can simply stand in our truth and say what works and what does not. The art of Finesse, does mean that we are willing to SAY, what we think, feel or believe. But we speak respectfully and from our own truth and we invite the other to do likewise.

It is this simple. And, when we step out of the reality of our own truth, we are no longer operating in reality. We are operating in an “alternate or fake reality” that has no basis in fact. This is why our world is so confusing at this time; because so many people have abandoned their own truth and either try to live in someone else’s reality, which by the way, is impossible or they try to assume they know the “truth” for everyone. Many people love to abandon themselves and try to glue themselves onto someone else because they can abdicate all responsibility for their life and expect the “other” to do it for them.  Of course, no one can live our life except ourselves.  The sad truth about this is that many people die without ever having lived their own life.

So, what I am saying today is this:

When we find the courage to connect with ourselves and own our feelings, thoughts, perceptions, history, needs and desires, everything changes.  From this place of inner connection and therefore, inner integrity, we have choice.

We can choose what is best for ourselves and when we do this, we have an inner response that enables us to want to support others to do what is best for them. Then, when we are gathering together from a place of integrity, solutions seem to magically come to mind. We find ourselves wanting to give a little to get a little. We may even find ourselves wanting to give more.  

Jesus talked about this gathering together in integrity like this:

“Where 2 or more are gathered, there I am in the midst of them”……….

 As a Unity Minister, we interpret scripture metaphysically which means we ask what this means within ourselves. So, we ask what the Christ within is saying. So, when we gather with another from the Christ Spirit within or from the place of love within, (it does not matter what we call this inner wholeness), we automatically can begin to see the one we gather with from a place of honor, love and respect. This is really our true nature. This is a birthright given to humans. We have the ability to live our lives from our Higher functioning brain or what I affectionately call the “Wizard Brain”.  The survival brain that we have in common with reptiles is known as the reptilian brain, and I affectionately call this the “lizard brain”. The lizard brain does not want to respect the other. It does not want to gather in love with the other. It knows that in order to survive, we must sort people into the “good tribe” and the “bad tribe”. Thus, when we feel the need to FIGHT, we are operating out of the lizard brain and at this level, NO ONE WILL EVER WIN.  We are living from a zero sum game.

But when we choose to FINESSE, we are choosing that “artful subtlety”, we are choosing to connect with our truth and also willing to be with the other as they connect with their inner truth. We are willing to negotiate and compromise. And, from this place, miracles occur, and it is the only true place of reality.

Let us look at the other 2 options.

FLIGHT.

When we choose to flee, we are choosing to abandon ourselves and also the other. We are so afraid of standing in our own truth that we simply leave either literally or even psychologically. We have all heard the phrase, “All the lights are on but no one is home”.  This applies to one who has chosen to abandon their truth and simply give up.

This person, when in this stance, is a dangerous person because they simply don’t care what the other wants because they don’t care about what they want.  A prime example of fleeing in this age of social media is to disagree with someone’s text, or voice mail, email or other electronic messages by simple “deleting it”.  They are afraid to speak their disagreement so they just avoid the whole communication process. A person who has chosen “flight” as their favorite way of interacting in the world will often forget their phone is off even when they are expecting a message, they will often forget to turn the ringer on, they will often not agree with someone and rather than connect to their truth and respond, they simply put the message in the trash. They often say they are choosing to not engage in conflict, but in reality, they are giving into their fear of connecting with their truth and speaking it and are choosing to just “delete the message”. They think they are doing this from a place of power and in reality it is from a place of cowardly weakness.

In my life, I would rather deal with someone who chooses to

FIGHT

Because at least there is someone in the house with the lights on even if they are not ready to

FINESSE.

If someone is still engaged, albeit ready to Fight; if even one other person is trying to Finesse, this very action will have an effect on the one who is thinking they need to fight. This idea flows from the idea I mentioned earlier that Jesus talked about when he said “when 2 or more gather…………….”. But it often only takes one person who is willing to gather. This willingness is from a stance of vulnerability and this stance can have a dramatic affect on one who trying to fight.

   Let’s now look at the strategy I am calling: FALL

When we choose to fall, we are falling into our old family of origins scripts. These scripts reflect how we adapted as a child, whether being the Hero, the Rebel, the lost one or any other combination of these adaptations. These scripts are so powerful that some people NEVER break out of the grip of these scripts.

When someone chooses to Fall into their old script, they think they are safe. But in reality, they have also abandoned the truth of who they are for a NON-stance. They are not living from who they are but from how they adapted in childhood in order to survive.

 In closing, I invite all of us who want to be a part of a world that chooses Harmony and Oneness to be willing to connect with our own truth and stand for this truth. This type of stance, that of standing for one’s truth, is the only real way to live. It is the only way that can bring world peace.

And, when we choose to live this way, we are in integrity. We are being the ONE we have come here to be. We are inviting others to do the same.

 This is my stance and from this stance, I do believe that Goodness will prevail in our world and Miracles will happen. I am gathering with like minded people over the next few weeks. It is all that I can do.

And no matter what happens, I will know that I stood for truth that is within me and that I have invited those that I gather with to also stand for their truth and it is from this place that we create peace, harmony and oneness.

       SMp#d�_�!�