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annerbhp · 4 years

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how you get the girl

(Harry/Ginny, meet-cute, muggle AU)

the ice-skating ring is full of fumbling people, but Ginny finds one person in extra need of help

Hot Dad is back again, Ginny texts Demelza.

Putting down her phone, she sells a round of tickets to a loud group of teenagers, passing them off to Stephanie to get them set up with skates. Their cheeks are all red with the cold evening air, the sun having just dipped behind the buildings. Mariah Carey is crooning about Christmas over the slightly staticky speakers. It’s all perfectly cheery and lovely, and even Ginny can’t help but smile at it, this season long having been a favorite of hers, no matter how old she gets.

Which probably explains how after working full days, she still lets herself get dragged into volunteering at the seasonal outdoor ice-skating rink set up in the old city center as a way to earn money for various local charities. She’s an easy mark, which her friend running the event never fails to capitalize on.

The obvious first-date skaters are the best in the evenings, the romanticism of the idea wearing off real quick the first time one of them knocks the other down and their asses get real familiar with the unforgiving ice. Ginny likes the look on their faces when she offers them one of the walkers little kids use sometimes.

Her phone buzzes with Demelza’s response.

Okay either bang him or stop texting me because this is pathetic and you know it.

Ginny sighs. I imagine his exceptionally beautiful wife would have a problem with that.

The wife you have no idea if exists or not? Seriously, I don’t have time for this. You’re cut off talking about this.

I need a new friend.

Ha! Good luck with that.

Ginny tosses her phone down in disgust. The worst part is that Demelza is right. This is beneath her dignity. But Hot Dad has been here with his son the last four nights straight, and selling tickets and collecting used equipment isn’t all that engrossing, especially considering Ginny is one of dozens of volunteers. Meaning she has a lot of time to stare and let her imagination get away with her. And her imagination’s favorite subject these days is Hot Dad. Once again here tormenting her as he wobbles around the rink with his son.

She can’t really tell how old he is, a knit beanie always pulled low over his head and a beard covering his face. He’s got glasses too. None of which makes it hard to see how attractive he is. (One time he forgot his scarf and she nearly had to take a break when he laughed at his son and the tendons in his neck stood out as he threw his head back and she thought how lick-able it looked.) He’s on the lanky side, which on skates occasionally makes him look like a newborn wobbly-legged foal, and even that is somehow charming.

Or Ginny is just really hard up and needs to get a life. Which is what Demelza loves to say. Also that Ginny is a workaholic. And sure, it’s been a hot minute since her last date. She just has a lot going on right now. Besides, this guy is definitely more than likely married.

So instead, she is going to happily, harmlessly ogle Hot Dad while he stumbles around the rink with his son, who has shown little to no improvement over the last week. In fact, if possible, they both seem to be getting worse.

Fifteen minutes later, Hot Dad nearly takes out a pair of teenaged girls, blocking the entire flow of skaters as he stops to thoroughly apologize while his son stands nearby and nearly laughs himself down onto the ice. And then actually goes down onto the ice.

Jesus.

Talk about the blind leading the blind. They’re going to cause a pile-up, she tells herself. It’s the only reason she grabs a pair of skates and heads over to help.

Really.

“Excuse me,” she says as she approaches.

He looks up and, shit, his eyes are like the most intense green she’s ever seen, and also, he’s definitely younger than she first thought, closer to her own age. But also young enough that he must have been Hot Young Teen Dad when his kid was born. But still just as hot as she imagined him to be.

Dammit.

“Not that I don’t admire your persistence,” she says, helping the kid to his feet, “but you two are rapidly becoming a hazard.”

Hot Dad straightens his glasses, looking sheepish. “We definitely are. But it’s an emergency, I’m afraid.”

“An emergency?” Ginny asks, trying to ignore the thrill of finally hearing his voice for the first time. And what a nice voice it is.

He grins. “Ted’s trying to impress a girl.”

“Harry!” the kid shrieks, looking mortified.

Ginny blinks, both cataloging Hot Dad’s name—Harry—and noticing the strange use of it by his son. Maybe he’s in that rebellious teenage phase where he calls his parents by their first names?

He’s still wearing gloves, dammit. Not that it matters. She doesn’t have time for Hot Maybe Married Dad right now.

Really.

“And you’re somehow supposed to help with that?” she shoots back before she can think better of it.

But rather than looking offended, Hot Dad—Harry—just grins back at her. “A hopeless case, I suppose.”

“Depends on how this is meant to impress a girl.”

“He’s going to ask her out for the first time,” Harry says, smiling at his son as Ted looks even more mortified.

“To go ice skating,” Ginny surmises. “Have you considered the movies, or frozen yogurt or, I dunno, anything not on ice?”

Ted shakes his head, looking earnest in the way only a young teen can. “It has to be ice skating.”

Ginny sighs. “I suppose I could give you some pointers. At least keep you from being a total disgrace.”

The kid gives her a dubious look. “You think you could?”

Oh, now it’s on. “You doubt me?” she asks, pushing back on her skates. Without another word, she does a quick tick around the circle, doing the second half backwards. With a quick spin, she comes to stop in front of them at the last possible moment in a showy shower of ice shavings.

Harry looks impressed, eyebrows lifted. “Were you a skater?”

“Hockey,” she says succinctly, used to people making assumptions. Then again, she’s hardly a delicate thing to be twirling around in tutus. Not that she couldn’t if she wanted to, thank you very much. But she’s more into smacking people with sticks than doing toe loops.

“I think this is your best hope, Ted,” Harry says. “The ice angels have smiled down on you.”

Ginny bites back the urge to clarify that she is in no way an angel and would be happy to prove it to him. Instead, she focuses on the kid, who she can’t look down on all that much considering he’s nearly at her height already.

“What do you say?”

Ted lets out a breath. “Please.”

She smiles. “Okay. But before we start, I need to know one thing. This girl you’re asking out. What are you going to do if she says no?”

His eyes widen, giving Harry a panicked look. “Oh, god. Is she going to say no?”

He pats his shoulder. “I think she’s more trying to make sure you aren’t going to use her powers for evil.”

“Pretty much,” Ginny says.

“I don’t understand,” Ted says, brow furrowed.

Ah, the innocence of youth.

“For example.” Harry turns towards Ginny. “I don’t think I got your name?”

“Ginny,” she says, trying to ignore the quiver she feels as his gaze falls intently on her.

He smiles, holding out his hand. She slips her gloved hand into his, shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Harry.”

“Hello, Harry,” she says, their hands still clasped between them.

He places his other hand on the back of hers, the gesture somehow endearing even as it’s terribly old-fashioned. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

She nearly blurts out a yes before remembering that they are playacting. And he’s probably married. And they’re standing in front of his son. “Sorry,” she says. “Dating customers is against the rules.”

Harry smiles at her—fuck, that is not okay. “Okay,” he says, letting go of her hand. “Sorry if I bothered you. I hope you have a great day.”

“You, too,” she says.

Harry turns back to his son. “There you go.”

“But that wasn’t a no,” Teddy points out.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “It was. If someone wants to go out with us, they’ll say yes. She doesn’t have to explain why or justify it. Plus, do you really want to go out with someone you had to convince?”

Okay, and now Ginny is not just lusting after him, but a little bit in love with the asshole too.

“No,” Ted says, frowning. “I guess not. But what would you do now?”

Harry puts a hand to his chest like he’s nursing a painful wound. “We slink back to our caves like men, feel sorry for ourselves for a little bit, and then pretend it never happened. And definitely don’t ask again.”

“But she’s at my school! I’ll see her every day. Won’t that be weird?”

Ginny expects a pep talk, don’t worry, of course she’ll say yes, but instead Harry slings an arm over Ted’s shoulders. “It might be weird for a while, I admit. But don’t be a pain in the ass and you’ll both get over it. Of course, she might also say yes. Is the potential weirdness and embarrassment worth the chance that she might say yes?”

A look of determination crosses his features. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It’s worth her maybe saying no, if it means she might also say yes.”

“Well then, I think you have your answer.”

And now Ginny is pretty much fully in love with him. Ugh, her life is the worst.

“Come on,” she says, gesturing for Ted to come closer. “Let’s try a few rounds.”

She spends the next fifteen minutes giving him a few key pointers, enough that he’s not a complete hazard, but he’s still a long way from dating form. For one, the kid appears to have two left feet. Which, once he warms up to her a bit (and informs her that he much prefers to go by Teddy), his clumsiness pales in comparison to his general politeness and wicked sense of humor. She’s not sure what he’d say if she said those were going to go a lot further for him than his ice-skating skills.

They eventually come back to a stop next to Harry where he waits against the wall off to one side. They’ve just made it when Teddy careens over and nearly face plants into the ice. Harry reaches out for him, only to almost lose his own footing.

What a pair, Ginny thinks, not even bothering to hold back her laughter.

“Your son seems to have inherited your clumsiness,” she says once they are all steadily on their feet again.

Harry laughs, beaming at Teddy, but the kid just lets out a dismissive sound. “He’s not my dad. As if.”

“You could only be so lucky,” Harry says, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Remus may be smarter than me, but I am far better at pretty much anything requiring coordination.”

“That remains to be seen,” Ginny says, Teddy letting out an appreciative laugh.

Harry lifts an eyebrow, like maybe she’s twinged his ego. “Ice is not my natural environment.”

“Really,” she drawls. “Then what is your natural environment?”

“Pretty much anything but ice. I’m not picky,” he says, and somehow the unspoken arrogance is attractive.

Ginny tilts her head to the side. “I think I’d need proof to be able to judge that adequately.”

“Would you,” he says, voice lowering.

Fuck, the ice should be melting in here.

They hold each other’s gazes a bit longer than is probably proper, Teddy looking between them.

Ginny gives herself a little shake, turning back to the kid. “So, Teddy. I have some bad news and some good news.”

“Okay,” he says, looking wary.

“The bad news is that winter is likely to end before you master ice skating. I mean, you can keep trying. You’ll get better just through practice. But it’s going to take a while.”

He sighs, apparently not horribly surprised to hear it. “And the good news?”

“Well, why do you want to take this girl ice skating?”

“Because she loves ice skating.”

“Is she good?”

He nods. “She’s really good.”

“There’s your good news. And because I like you, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tell her you’d like to take her ice skating because you know she likes it so much. And then tell her that you aren’t very good, but you’re willing to try and you’d appreciate it if she’d help you. Basically, what I am saying is don’t try to hide that you aren’t great at this yet. Just focus on enjoying being there with her. Honest is so much better than cool.”

She expects him to fight that, but instead he looks thoughtful, eventually nodding. “Okay.” He turns to Harry. “Can we be done now? My butt is so cold I can’t feel it anymore.”

Harry ruffles his hair again. “Yeah. I’ll take you home.”

Teddy heads off towards the exit, and he has improved at least a little bit, Ginny notices as she follows slightly behind. Harry keeps pace with her, even as he wobbles his way along, never more than an arm’s length from the edge.

“That was some good advice,” he says.

“Well,” Ginny says, “what’s the point of suffering through all that teenage angst if not to try to save the younger generation from repeating your mistakes?”

Harry laughs. “I hear that.”

They sit on the benches, pulling off their skates.

“I can take your skates here,” she says, stepping back behind the counter, ignoring the person already waiting to run this part of the booth.

He hands the skates up over the counter. His gloves are off now and she can see his perfectly naked fingers. Interesting.

“Thanks,” Teddy says.

“Good luck!” she calls out after him.

He waves, heading for the exit.

Harry lingers another moment, pulling his beanie off and revealing dark hair in complete disarray. “I’m realizing I’ve backed myself into a corner,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“How exactly?” she asks.

He drags a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t very well ask you out again without being a hypocrite.”

“Hmm,” she says, nodding solemnly at him. “That is a tricky spot you’ve put yourself in. I suppose sometimes it’s hard to live by our principles.”

He gives her a sad, lopsided smile. “You have no idea.” He pushes back from the counter. “It was nice meeting you, Ginny.”

“You, too, Harry,” she says.

He turns and walks away. Ginny eyes his ass, and, god, it really is a thing of beauty. He doesn’t even look back, and he’s going to do it. He’s really just going to leave her alone.

Amazing.

She counts three long beats before coming around to the other side of the counter and calling out after him. “Harry.”

He stops, turning back to look at her, waiting for her to catch up.

“For the record,” she says, “dinner never would have worked.”

“Sure,” he says, hands in his pockets.

“I already ate, and I’m stuck here until nine,” she says. “How about I buy you a drink instead?”

“You sure?” he says, voice slightly teasing. “Because I’d hate to have a date who had to be convinced.”

“Oh, believe me,” Ginny says. “You don’t need to do any convincing.”

He looks delighted, a smile lighting up his face, and Ginny is still having a hard time believing he’s real. “I’ll swing back around at nine them.”

She nods. “Looking forward to seeing you in your natural environment,” she drawls, giving him a wink.

He almost immediately nearly bumps into a trash can.

She lifts an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head. “Still shaking off the ice-skating legs.”

“Of course,” she says.

“Harry!” Teddy shouts from the exit.

“Coming!” Harry yells back. He looks at her. “Nine.”

She nods. “Nine.”

Giving her one last lingering look, he turns, giving her a great view as he walks away. Once out on the sidewalk, she can see Harry wrap his arm around Teddy’s neck, giving him a playful noogie as the kid fights him off.

Ginny smiles, watching them disappear before heading back to her station.

Back behind the counter, she picks up her phone, pulling up her conversation with Demelza.

Hot dad is not a dad at all, is gloriously single, and I am seeing him at nine tonight.

Get it, girl.

#annerbfic #hinny #seriously what is this #meet cute #american AU i guess #because I couldn't be fussed to mess with Britishisms #still on my indulgent bullshit lads #not lucky #but something equally ridiculous

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illogicalhusbands · 5 years

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The Game is Afoot - pt. 2

Bill Masters x Alec Hardy Masters of Sex/Broadchurch crossover Really overwhelmed with the response for this! Here’s the next part, and if you need to start over, here’s the link to the first part.

Alec knew that he couldn’t actually investigate Dr. Masters as he would in his usual job as it would be illegal, but several meetings have passed with them exchanging small pleasantries over some breakfast and he was running out of leads.

He had been able to find out a bit more about him from the Google. First of all, he found out that the much talked about sex study was indeed legitimate. The doctor had also been married once and has been a divorcee for almost a decade now, but he didn’t have any children of his own despite being a world class gynecologist, which he thought was rather peculiar. But mostly, he wanted to know what brought Masters to Broadchurch. Why would a first-rate American doctor retreat to such a sad, closed-off town on another continent? The more he thought about it, the more he was driven to find out more information about him.

Despite this, he never revealed to Masters that he already knew his name. No, names had a certain higher level of authority over all the other intel he could obtain. The revelation of his knowing Masters’ name would come in due time.

He was certain Dr. Masters would also pick up a few things about him. After all, there were also plenty of things the internet said about him, mostly from online tabloids, if only Masters knew his name. Alec also let slip once that he was very fond of Doctor Who. He’d almost been embarrassed to say it, but Masters didn’t show a hint of mocking when he did. He really was odd.

They’d exchanged mobile numbers, but they drew up even less information than their face-to-face meetings did. And as such, Alec was forced to draw on his last resort for information:

“Miller, tell me what you know about Dr. William Masters.”

Miller, who was currently reading a forensics report on her desk, glanced at him. “There’s not much I can tell you other than what you probably already know. Why, has he struck your fancy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alec replied.

Evident glee was shining in Miller’s eyes. “He’s quite good-looking, though. Pretty head containing all that brain, wouldn’t you say?”

Alec rolled his eyes. Because sure, Masters always looked so commanding with his well-pressed suits and tiny bowties and sleek hair and those light blue eyes of his that seemed to stare right into his soul, but there was no overlooking his smugness. “He’s a bastard.”

Alec’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and read a text from the devil himself.

How’s the daughter?

Alec placed it back in his pocket, knowing he didn’t need to reply. They’d been sending these ominous texts back and forth for days now. It was simply a way of updating the other on their progress in the game. Alec frowned, wondering briefly at how Masters knew he had a daughter.

“Oh my god. That’s him, isn’t it?” Miller said, eyes wide. “S’why you were asking me about him. You’re flirting.”

“For gods sake, Miller, we are not flirting!”

“You wouldn’t look at a text like that if you weren’t being a little bit naughty, Hardy,” she said, smiling coyly at having found an apparent weakness in her boss.

“He’s arrogant and annoying and a bloody doctor. Why on earth would I like him?” Alec turned to walk away.

“He’s asked about you, too, though.”

Alec’s head snapped towards her. “He has?” He shook his head. “From whom?”

“Beth Latimer,” she whispered, as if what she’s saying had to be kept in secret. “He’s her doctor, you know.”

Right. Beth was again pregnant and he vaguely recalled her mentioning having to switch doctors. It seemed to bother her at the time, but overall Alec was just grateful she looked much happier than the last time he saw her with child.

“Wha-” Alec started. “He doesn’t even know my name. How would he know who to ask for?”

“Do you see many D.I.’s going around in here?” said Miller, tilting her head as if she was talking to a toddler. “I didn’t think so. This happened a week ago, by the way.”

Alec was stunned by this. Turns out he didn’t have much of the upper hand after all. It meant that Masters had also already known his name all along, and just deliberately did not use it nor did he inform him of it, just as Alec had. Just exactly what was he planning?

The first time he encountered Masters outside the confines of the cafe where they usually met was when he and Miller were out to question someone at the library for a case of burglary. A house was broken into while the tenants were asleep. There were no other clues save for a strange car some distance away, with a license plate they attributed to a certain librarian.

Alec spotted him, perched on one of the couches. Round wire-rimmed glasses framed his eyes as he crouched over a stack of papers in his hand. His face, which was usually intensely guarded, was relaxed as he pored over the text. It gave him such an otherworldly appearance that Alec couldn’t help but savour it for a few moments.

“There he is!” said Miller. “Why don’t you go say hi?”

Alec turned to her. “You sound like a mother trying to make his son get a playmate.”

“Oi, you were the one who pestered me about him. Why not just ask him yourself?”

Alec sighed. “I can’t. We have an… agreement. That we won’t reveal anything about ourselves.” Miller stared dumbly at him. “And I can’t exactly investigate him. He’s not been connected to a crime—”

“Really? ‘Cause from what I heard, he’s been involved in a case of theft once.”

Alec drew back a little. “Him? He wouldn’t do that. What on earth would he even steal?”

“Oh, you know how it is in this job. You never know what they’re truly after. Money, fame… A certain detective’s heart, maybe?”

Alec glared at her, which only caused her to burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re smitten, Hardy.”

“I am absolutely not-” Alec yelled, much more loudly than he intended. This drew Masters’ attention away from his papers. “Oh god, he’s looking here. Shit, Miller! He’s seen us.”

Masters walked over to them. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How are you?”

For some reason, Alec’s damnable heart stammered in his chest. “I’m on the clock,” he managed to say. “Just finished some interviews. W-we were just leaving, actually—”

“No, no we weren’t!” interrupted Miller, her wide smile directed at the newcomer. “We’re not in any hurry. Don’t worry about it, doctor.”

“Ah, I do believe we haven’t met before,” said Masters. He turned to Alec, eyes sparkling with a challenge. “Why don’t you introduce me to your colleague?”

The smug bastard, thought Alec. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d never mentioned to Masters that he already knew his name, and here was the doctor trying to draw it out of him. He’d never give him the satisfaction now that he knew Masters knew his name as well. He would not be the first one to give in.

“Right. This is my partner, D.S. Ellie Miller. Miller, this is… some doctor you already know.”

To Alec’s surprise, Masters only smiled and shook Miller’s hand. From her face, it was obvious that she was completely charmed. Alec resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The only thing worse than arrogant doctors were charismatic ones.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Masters smoothly.

“Pleasure’s all mine, really,” Miller replied, slightly breathless. “How are you liking Broadchurch?”

Alec thought it was a trick of his eye, but he swore he saw Masters glance at him. “Exceedingly handsome,” replied the doctor.

“Glad to hear it,” said Miller. “I’ve heard so much about you from Beth.” At this, Alec shot a glare at her, as if to convey ‘You knew more things about him and didn’t tell me?’, which she blatantly ignored. “You should come over for dinner with us some time.”

“I can hardly say no to that. Thank you. But right now, I should be taking my leave. I’ve another shift coming up at the hospital.” Masters nodded at the pair, footsteps shuffling back to compile his belongings.

“Then, don’t let us keep you,” said Miller.

“Thank you for your time,” Alec supplied.

Masters paused and looked at him. “See you tomorrow, Holmes.” Those pale blue (more grey in this lighting) eyes bore into his with an intensity he’d never noticed before. There was a fleeting thought wherein he wondered what it would be like to be the subject of a scientist’s concentration, before he shoved it away from his mind. Masters gathered his items and left the room.

He turned to see Miller frowning at him. “What?”

“’Thank you for your time’? My god, Hardy, he’s not a murder suspect!”

“What did you expect me to say? I told you I hated him!”

“He was flirting with you, you stupid arse!”

Alec suddenly felt the room too warm. “You’re in your fantasy world again, Miller. Always so optimistic—”

“God, and you can’t even mention his name! What is wrong with you? The game is obviously a sham. Just get your shit together and ask him out!”

Alec was about to retort when his phone vibrated with a new text message from Masters.

I’ve been reading. You’re broody like him—Holmes, I mean. Have you been eating right?

Miller, who happened to have read this over his shoulder, had a sly smile on her face. “I’ll prove it to you.”

She snatched the phone out of his hand. Alec was still dumb with trying to process the message he received from Masters and he only realized this once Miller had already handed him back his mobile. A text from his own phone (except that it wasn’t texted by him) was added to the screen.

It’s why Holmes needed a Dr. Watson, after all.

It was no use holding it back now. Alec turned beet red, his phone hanging limply from his fingers, his jaw hanging open. He was mortified.

“I-I…ack..nggk… MILLER!”

Miller only grinned at him.

His phone vibrated once again. He took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. He was no coward. He would face whatever Masters’ reply was head on.

He clicked on the screen, eyes scanning over the added text.

I suppose that’s my job, then. - To be continued.

#bill masters x alec hardy #bill masters #alec hardy #broadchurch #masters of sex #illogical husbands #crossover ship #ficlet #drabble #fic #leann writes #the game is afoot

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therealmexicanguys-blog · 6 years

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“THE MEANING OF LIFE”

The meaning of life is controversial and complicate question for the reason that in the past and still today, many people believe that humanity is the creation of a God, that God had for us a purpose and that purpose is the meaning of life. Some might yet object that talk about the meaning of life is neither here nor there because life is merely a prelude to some form of eternal afterlife and this if you will, is its purpose. (Usually, the idea of an eternal afterlife is closely allied with that of God, but this need not necessarily be the case.) One can marshal up at least four arguments against this position:

It’s not at all clear that there is or even can be some form of an eternal afterlife that entails the survival of the personal ego even if there were such an afterlife, living forever is not in itself a purpose, and so the question arises, what is the actual purpose of the eternal afterlife? If the eternal afterlife has a pre-determined purpose, again, we do not know what this purpose might be, and, whatever it might be, we would rather be able to do without it.

Reliance on an eternal afterlife not only postpones the question of life’s purpose but also dissuades or at least discourages us from determining purposes for what may be the only life that we do have. If it’s the brevity or the finiteness of human life that gives it shape and purpose (not something that I personally believe), then an eternal afterlife cannot, in and by itself, have any purpose but this question is accepted only by religious people.

The other part of us are still wondering, why am I here? The most common response is "Be happy" and "Make others happy" but does life only have that purpose? This kind of response is very subjective. The meaning of life, what is it? Well, not many people know this, if you were to ask someone what their purpose in life is, the majority might say they still haven’t found that out, while others may simply reply “I don’t know”, it all depends on each person’s perspective.

Now everyone here has a purpose in life; while some may say the obvious: We’re born, we live, we reproduce, and we die, there may be more to life than just that, perhaps there’s something you haven’t done, something you really want to do… Maybe you’ve lived your life wondering why you’re here, what purpose do you have? The answer is not always that easy, but the only one that decides your fate is you…

No one else has control over your life, the purpose for your existence depends entirely on you… And this isn´t always a good thing, as many people, by their choice, decide to end it all, as they see no purpose in their life; although it´s a small percent, this tells us that not everyone values their life, and try to end it by going through “the easy way out”, which isn´t something you should do… Life is full of surprises, and although not every surprise is good, you should focus on the ones that matter, enjoy your life, live it to its fullest, spend your life enjoying yourself with the people you love, be happy; don´t every think you´re not worth it… You are a very important part of this world.

However many women and men have searched for the meaning of life. The meaning of life according to Viktor Frankl lies in finding a purpose and taking responsibility for ourselves and other human beings. The meaning of life may not only differ from one person to another, but we ourselves may have a different life purpose at each stage of life. The important thing is for each goal to give us satisfaction and encouragement to get up in the morning and fight for what we want.

Each person gives a different sense of life and lives it as he wants to live. Life is not a concept, it is what we are, what we say and what we act. The meaning is very large and varied and only you decide how you handle it in your life. Many times people feel confused with their life and do not have a sense but perhaps it is their bad actions and decisions that do not allow a clear vision for them. If in your life you do the things that move you, that satisfy you and that are the best for your development and stability, you will find the key to your happiness, and your sense will be as you work it. If you do good things you will get good results may be in the short or long time. Two key points to get to the meaning of your life is: think about it! Do it! And achieve it! And sometimes things are difficult but find the good side. Think about it! Do it! Wrong, accept it, try it! And achieve it! And all this will have been an apprenticeship to your life and that will lead to balanced sense.

As a conclusion, life it is ephemeral, that’s a fact that depends on you, what do you want to do and enjoy it, or how you want to waste it. The truth it’s that anything has sense, do not mortify yourself trying to search it, due to you are going to get tired through the pass of the time. Do anything for you, to be happiest as possible, achieve your goals it does not matter how stupid it is. Achieve them!, oh yes, one thing, be happiest as possible but without hurting anyone.

Take in count that it’s said there is one force named karma in the Buddhist religion and in Hinduism that says that all transcendent action by the people has other reaction equal or similar to them. So live doing good, wishing good to others including not only to humans, if not, to all type of living beings. I’m sure that if you live wishing good to others, your desires are going to be reciprocal.

And Love, love is life, that’s one of the reasons why it's worth living, there are many types of love, but the most important to the life, it is that that lets you love to others. SELF LOVE.

#Do you exist or live?#Live #Life #Born to be alive #Why?#Life has no sense #The meaning of life #existence #love #self love #Mexican guys #Mexico #Mexicans #thinking about it

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universally-the-same · 5 years

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Body acceptance and shame

For those of you who have been following me for a while, you know that I’ve been working on self-love and self-acceptance for several years now. And in that time, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve grown in leaps and bounds in this area. Especially the area of self-acceptance.

For those who don’t know, for most of my life, I have been incredibly self-critical. Learning to let go of such extreme levels of perfectionism has felt so huge. And it IS huge! But recently, I’ve felt an even bigger shift in the self-love department. And while I feel that self-love and self-acceptance certainly fall into this shift, I think it would be more fitting to refer to this shift as body acceptance, because frankly… that’s what I’m talking about.

BODY ACCEPTANCE It’s a tough topic to discuss and one that I still feel pretty damn vulnerable putting out there to the world, but I think it’s an important topic. Recently my neighbor was nominated for a community award and the local news came out to do a story on him. I immediately agreed to be part of the story because he’s a great neighbor, I was excited for him, and I wanted to support him.

Later that night, all the mind chatter started. I started worrying about how I would look on camera. I don’t know if the rest of the world has this reality, but when I look in the mirror I see a very different person than who I see in photographs and video footage of myself.

The big day came and at that point I had pretty much talked myself out of participating but that morning I decided to “get ready” just in case. Mid-morning, I heard a knock on my door. It was his wife letting me know that if I wanted to be on TV now was the time. I admitted to her that I was scared, but she got me to come out anyway.

The journalist and camera man had us interact in different ways, but when all was said and done I didn’t feel very secure about the end result. At one point they had me up on my front porch while the camera man was filming from the ground. I mean… I know from my own experience that that happens to be one of the least flattering angles to be caught at. But at this point, it was what it was, and it was just a matter of seeing how they put it all together.

I worried about telling people about the new-story because I was afraid to have them see it before I did, but in the end I decided to put a post on Facebook the night before it aired. My logic to this decision was (a) the story is not about me, it’s about him, (b) the people I know, know what I look like… probably better than I do, and (c) I love my friends and family regardless of their size, color, race, gender, etc. So in theory, shouldn’t they love me in the same way?

The day of the story, I waited filled with equal emotions of anxiety and excitement, but the story never aired. We never got an explanation so we figured they decided not to run it, and that it wasn’t meant to be. The following week my neighbor messaged me that they would be running the story later that week.

I sat down to watch the story, curious to see how they edited the piece and put it all together, but terrified to see how I would look through the lens of the news camera. It turned out to be a sweet little feel-good piece, and as I watched it, it was as if I was observing the piece from another person’s eyes.

The story engulfed me, and “that girl” was just a small piece of it. I didn’t judge or criticize the girl I was seeing, and I was shocked to experience body acceptance on that large of a level. I was in such disbelief that I didn’t hate what I saw, that I actually backed the story up and played the frames I was in, in slow-motion in a really fucked-up attempt to find something to criticize.

And this was the only part of what aired that I didn’t like. I became angry that my first reaction upon feeling body acceptance was not to simply accept the fact that I was actually accepting myself, but that the natural inclination was to go back and try to find something to tear myself down.

And I will admit that while viewing the story in slow motion, there was a moment of uncertainty in my mind when I reached in to give him a hug. You could see my side profile and my clothed belly. But in that moment, instead of being repulsed, or disappointed, or ashamed, this little voice sounded in my head telling me… “it’s just a belly”.

A realization that hit me so hard and still has me reeling. It’s just a belly. We all have one. They come in different shapes, different sizes, different colors. But… we all have a belly.

I had a similar experience in yoga class the other week, but I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time. It wasn’t until the news story opened my eyes that I now see the importance of it.

In yoga we are constantly transitioning into different poses. I wear a long t-shirt to help prevent exposed skin, but inevitably it ends up happening. Every time I realize it, it’s feels like I am committing this horrible sin. How dare I expose a 1″ x 4″ strip of skin to my classmates. God forbid, you know… because, “I’m a big girl, and big girls aren’t supposed to show their fat. No one wants to see that, even if it is by accident.”

Well, the other day I was in yoga class and I had just got done transitioning through some warrior poses that required a lot of stretching, reaching, and folding at the waist. My shirt inevitably inched its way up. I caught sight of it in the mirror and for the first time I wasn’t mortified by this. It was another moment of… it’s just skin.

And after sitting with the impact of the “it’s just a belly” statement, I became more receptive to the lesson behind the “it’s just skin” comment that I had heard in my head. Similarly to the belly, we all have skin. Again, it comes in different colors. Some skin is tight and toned, other skin is flabby. Some skin is decorated with freckles, or stretchmarks, or battle scars. Some skin has sun damage, while other skin has been alive for decades. But in the end, it’s just another body part that makes us human. It’s a showcase of individuality in a way that makes us universally the same.

SHAME I don’t know if it’s the optimist in me, but while growing up, I was able to see good parts of myself, but I never liked my body as a whole. I thought I had pretty eyes, I liked my larger breasts, and at some point I started liking my legs.

But there were so many other things that I didn’t like. I hated the rolls around my middle, I hated that my thighs touched, my hair was 85% straight with a 13% wave and a 2% curl. Part of the 2% curl were the cowlicks that made up most of my bangs and would transform into devil horns whenever I would sweat or it was humid. I also had these two teeth that looked like tiny fangs. As my teen years progressed, I was hit with acne. It was just one body image issue after another.

Looking back on it now, I think a lot of it is the growing pains that probably everyone goes through, but I was one of those kids who was teased a lot in school. I went to a small grade school (K-8). My graduating year there were nine of us in the class, seven of which were boys. While I am grateful for my parochial school upbringing, there is always good and bad in every situation. Yin and Yang.

While the small class size was great for teacher-student attention, I believe it emphasized the cliques even more strongly. The pool of kids to pick on was much smaller, so it was easier to become the target. Between the bullying, and the physical and mental abuse I was going through at my mother’s house, I became very good at trying to blend in. That’s what you do when you are ridiculed for being yourself. I learned to adapt to my surroundings and situations. But this also shattered my confidence.

Looking back on pictures of me at that time, I’ll admit that I was bigger than the other kids, but I wasn’t fat. I didn’t know that at the time though. I believed all the name calling. At that age, why wouldn’t you? I mean from that perspective, I can remember feeling that if people didn’t want to play with me, and were calling me names… there must be something wrong with me.

I now know this isn’t true, but back then it was very hard to believe that. Especially when your mother is telling you the same things the kids are. Luckily my father was always a source of love. But he was concerned with my weight too and although his concerns came from that love, the fact that there was concern in the first place just further reinforced it.

As I’ve been going through this intuitive eating journey, and trying to reconnect to my emotions, one that I was having a hard time relating to was shame. It felt like such a foreign thing to me, until I saw myself on the news. During that moment of true, authentic, all-in self-love and being secure with my body for the first time since I was probably six or seven, suddenly I realized that I had been living my life in shame. As strange as it sounds, the reason I couldn’t identify with it, is because it was something that became such a part of me.

Earlier this year, my therapist and I discussed the possibility of some deep rooted subconscious self-worth issues. Thinking back on all the times I tried to make myself smaller so others wouldn’t see me, or how I would apologetically move out of people’s way – not simply for the sake of being polite, but because I felt that I was taking up too much room. Every time that I wanted to speak up for myself but wouldn’t open my mouth because I was afraid of being heard. Every time that I allowed myself to follow the crowd because I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself for being different. Nor, did I have the confidence to be different. In all of these circumstances I gave away my power. And in all of these circumstances it was based on shame and never believing that I was good enough.

And while we are on the subject of shame, I want to acknowledge that the stories we tell ourselves based on the stories told to us by others constantly feeds that. Based on conversations I’ve had with people (various doctor’s, physical therapists, and other professionals) I’ve been led to believe that my arch/tendinitis issue and my knee issue are both based on my weight. But the other day I was looking at pictures of myself as a teenager (the point where I was the skinniest and most fit I’ve been in my life).

As I sat there looking at the pictures, I started seeing the same patterns in the way I hold my body as “skinny person” that I do as a “large person”. Would losing weight help? I’m not saying it wouldn’t. But here I’ve been telling myself that it’s because of my weight that these things happened. When in reality my body was showing the signs of the issues back then.

Finding those pictures and remembering back to that age, I truly believe that these issues would have sprung up anyway. The weight may have intensified it, or possibly triggered it earlier, but I’ve been able to release that story from my head which has allowed the self-acceptance to grow a little more.

I think we so desperately want to have answers for everything, that we automatically believe stories that are told to us. Especially when they come from sources that are reputable, or people we trust. I’m not trying to discount people in the medical field, but this realization made me stop and think. Doctors, and everyone really, they all make their assumptions based off of a meeting with you. It could be a 15 minute appointment in their office, it could be someone that you see once a week like a banker, someone you see every two months like a hairdresser. It could be someone you talk to everyday – a close friend or family member.

And while all of these relationships are important in one way or another, they are not with you every second of the day. They are not living in your body. More likely than not, they haven’t known you your whole life. And while their insight and their feedback in important, we need to remember that in the end, we need to make decisions about what is best for us, what we believe, and the stories that we will tell ourselves based off of what we actually know.

Don’t get me wrong. This is hard, and probably a lot of times, we aren’t necessarily going to know what is best for us, or what we believe. So the best thing we can do is go with what we feel is the right thing in this moment. But that doesn’t mean that it’s over. That choice is not final. By staying open-minded and aware, we can still allow ourselves to take in new information. We are allowed to change our minds, to change our beliefs, and to change our stories.

One thing that this weight loss journey has taught me, especially as I’ve been reading though old posts lately, is that every time I made a decision, I did what felt right in that moment. I currently believe that every diet that I’ve been on, I was meant to be on. I believe that by living through my collected experiences, it has helped give me personal knowledge to understand this world of intuitive eating and be able to grasp some of the concepts better.

I also believe that I was born in this body for a reason. I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason, I’m sure this is one belief that will stand the test of time. And throughout my life, I’ve said multiple times that I struggle to lose weight for a reason. I had no idea what that reason was, or why. But I feel like the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together and it’s all making sense.

I believe I was put here to understand and help other’s see that diversity is not just about race, gender, age, or ability… it’s about size too. In a world where we are pushing to celebrate individuality, we need to realize that body size is just as diverse as skin shades.

*this blog post was originally posted on my My Curvy Journey blog on 6/29/2019 and moved to my Universally the Same blog.

#be you #body acceptance #body awareness #body diversity #love yourself #shame

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fireflyfish · 7 years

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Tano and Kenobi: Tatooine

Previously on Tano and Kenobi...

Desperately fleeing the relentless pursuit of the bounty hunters sent by Culling Blade, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi have fled with the Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze, across the Outer Rim. Out of time and with nowhere else to run, Ahsoka makes a bold decision to trade their starship for passage on a freighter.

A freighter bound for the desert planet of Tatooine.

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Melausta on the Outer Rim.

A Republic cruiser flew through the atmosphere, smoothly gliding over the spaceport of the planet’s capital city.

Hovering in place for a moment as the landing gear deployed, the vermillion ship slowly sank down into its assigned landing bay. White, billowing clouds of steam jetted out of the ship’s exhaust vents, nearly obscuring the boarding ramp that was quickly lowered.

A humanoid figure strode out, hard-soled boots ringing against the duracrete walls of the landing bay. He stepped into the warm midday sunlight and pulled off the voluminous hood that covered his brown hair and blunt features. Taking out his personal communications device, the man keyed in a frequency. “This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and I have landed on Melausta.”

There were several minutes of silence as the message bounced through the express relays of the holonet system before the reply came back.

“Understood, Master Jinn,” Mace Windu’s voice crackled over the com, low and serious. “Please inform the Temple when you have located the Duchess of Mandalore, Knight Tano, and Padawan Kenobi. May the Force be with you. Windu out.”

The line went dead and Qui-Gon tucked his com back into his belt and took off into the bustling city with one thing on his mind.

I’m coming, Obi-Wan.

Three days later it became clear that while Obi-Wan, Knight Tano, and the Duchess had been in the capital city of Melausta, they were no longer there and most likely hadn’t been there for two weeks, maybe more. The local magistrate helpfully explained that there had been a bit of a scuffle with some Mandalorian bounty hunters about three weeks back but no one had been able to charge them with anything more onerous than disturbing the peace.

“Some of those boys work for Jabba and the Hutt Syndicate,” the magistrate explained, showing Qui-Gon the footage of the fracas in the market district. “So there wasn’t a lot of push from the judiciary to indict them. And nobody’s seen a Jedi on Melausta in years! Truth be told, the Hutts are the law out here, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon frowned at the holo footage with his arms folded over his chest. “The citizens of this planet are content to let known criminals and bounty hunters walk free on their streets?”

“You’re mighty far away from Coruscant, Master Jedi,” the magistrate shrugged, pulling out a data stick and handing it over to Qui-Gon. “People here are just glad they won’t be kidnapped and sold into slavery on Nar Shaddaa. I’m sorry we can’t be of more help to you.”

Qui-Gon took the data stick with a brusque gesture and thanked the local law enforcement officer for his help before marching out of the building and back to his ship.

He would use the onboard computer to process the data stick in the hopes of finding some clue to Obi-Wan’s whereabouts. The footage was the only real lead he had, what with the Force silent and still on the subject of the boy. No matter how deeply he meditated, nothing seemed to spark in his awareness and there was a growing, cold dread in his heart that he would find him too late.

I knew Tano would lead you into danger, Obi-Wan. I only hope I can find you before she carelessly gets you hurt.

Two days later, he still had not found anything that would help.

“And you’re positive there’s nothing?” Qui-Gon frowned at the hologram of Master Jocasta Nu hovering above his ship’s onboard holoprojector. “Nothing at all?”

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon,” Master Nu shook her head, frowning. “I have been over the footage twice myself, as have Masters Plo and Windu. Knight Tano and Padawan Kenobi are nowhere to be found. The droid analysis reports the same finding.”

“But there has to be something there!” Qui-Gon insisted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “They couldn’t have just vanished!”

“All we can do is trust in the Force and wait for them to contact us,” Master Windu said, his face appearing in the flickering blue light of the projector. “I understand your concerns, Qui-Gon, but the Senate has an assignment for you and I cannot put it off any longer. You must return to Coruscant. Another Jedi will take over the search for Knight Tano and Padawan Kenobi.”

Qui-Gon grit his teeth and bowed his head to Master Windu, the Master of the Order. “Yes, Master Windu. I understand. Who will be taking over the search in my absence?”

“Master Tinn is on his way as we speak,” Mace said, hoping that the mention of a sitting member of the Council being dispatched to find two lost Jedi would sooth Jinn’s hackles. “We are all worried about Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, but you are needed here, Qui-Gon. Once we have located them and assured the Duchess’s safety, you will be the first person I call.”

Nodding, Qui-Gon bowed to the hologram. “Thank you, Master Windu. I will depart shortly.”

And with that he cut off the feed to the Temple and let out a particularly florid curse in Bacchi. He rested his hands on the communications console in his ship, unable to help calling out into the Force. Where are you, Obi-Wan?

To say that Tatooine was hot would not do it proper justice.

Obi-Wan couldn’t really think of a word that could do the desert planet on the Outer Rim justice but “hot” just didn’t seem up to the task. He liked “blistering” or “scorching” but they didn’t quite encompass the blinding, searing light of the twin suns of Tatoo 1 and Tatoo 2. While the length of the day was similar to that of Coruscant with only a few extra hours of sunlight added, those hours seemed brutally exhausting and cruel to Obi-Wan, who just wanted some peace from the heat and the stark brightness overhead.

And that didn’t even begin to cover what all this sun and ultraviolet radiation was doing to his skin. If he got out of this mess without third degree burns, he told himself, he would consider it a miracle.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your robe, Ben,” Satine murmured from where she stood next to him as they waited for Ahsoka to emerge from the cantina she had stepped into looking for information. If there was any consolation to Obi-Wan’s suffering on Tatooine, it was that he had spared Satine further misery, like a true Jedi Knight.

“You are more than welcome, S-Satine.” Obi-Wan stumbled over the Duchess’ given name, feeling scandalously informal. They had decided on the flight to Tatooine that it would be dangerous to refer to Satine by her titles and Obi-Wan had spent most of the flight stammering over her name and feeling even more like an idiot than he usually did.

Ahsoka finally had to step in and suggest with a smile, “You could always call her ‘my lady’. Then you’re still being respectful but a stranger might simply think you’re being extra romantic with your girlfriend.”

Satine had been in the refresher at the time and so Obi-Wan felt free to hiss at his master. “The Duchess is not my girlfriend, Master! I am a Jedi and she is the leader of the Mandalorian people! A relationship between us is impossible and against the Jedi Code!”

Ahsoka nodded solemnly at her padawan’s observation. “I agree. Those are all very good reasons why Satine should not be your girlfriend.”

Obi-Wan watched Ahsoka out of the corner of his narrowed eyes. “I sense a ‘but’ is coming, Master, and I do not think I am going to like it.”

“But if you do decide to make a go of it, I support you,” Ahsoka grinned, pulling out some ration bars and offering one to Obi-Wan who refused in a mortified huff. “Satine is a lovely young woman and I don’t think you could do better than the ruler of a planet.”

“Master!” Obi-Wan groaned, covering his hands and wishing they were on a planet so he could beg the Force to open up a bottomless pit and swallow him whole.

In the end, Obi-Wan chose to stumble his way through Satine’s name in the interest of her safety and also because a small part of him was secretly thrilled at the prospect at being allowed to cast aside his propriety for the mission.

But only for the mission. Once they were safely back on Coruscant, Obi-Wan was fully prepared to go back to using the proper and more respectful “Your Grace”.

Still, it is nice to call her by her name, Obi-Wan thought.

“Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to colonize this hellish planet?” Satine grumbled, pulling the hood of Obi-Wan’s robes further down to give herself more shade. “And why haven’t they built any kind of protection from the suns? Mandalore is a desert now but we don’t live exposed to elements like this. It’s barbaric!”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly and rummaged around in his go bag lying slung over one shoulder. He pulled out a small metal canister filled with cool water that Ahsoka had given him earlier that morning.

They each had one and he knew for a fact that Satine had already gone through hers. “Thirsty?”

Satine let out a gasp of delight and took the canister and was unscrewing the cap when she stopped and turned to look at Obi-Wan, her brows furrowed and her expression worried. “Were you just going to let me drink all your water without saying anything?”

Obi-Wan flushed, which was hard to see under his sunburn, and looked away. “I… thought something cool might take your mind off this sandy hellscape we find ourselves in.”

“Ben Kenobi!” Satine said, looking horrified as she reached out to give Obi-Wan a good swat on the arm. “You… you… stupid boy! Take your water back! I will not be responsible for your death by dehydration.”

Obi-Wan took the drink canister back from Satine and tucked it back into his bag with a guilty relief. “Thank you, Satine. I shall endeavor not to expire today.”

Satine nodded, mollified. “Good. I should hate to have to explain that to Master Ahsoka.”

“Explain what to me?” Ahsoka asked as she emerged from the cantina, a smile on her face as she tucked a handful of credits into a pouch on her hip. “What did I miss?”

Obi-Wan was going to explain his chivalrous actions but Satine got to them first. “Ben was going to gallantly give me the last of his water because I was childishly complaining about this accursed heat,” Satine announced, her head high. “And I made him take it back as I do not relish the idea of him dying from dehydration or the having to explain his untimely demise.”

Ahsoka blinked in confusion, her gaze jumping from Obi-Wan to Satine and back again as she arched one brow. “Right. Well, the good news is, I’ve got enough money for an early dinner. Bad news is, there’s a big podrace coming up and there’s no place to stay.”

Pulling her hood up over her montrals, Ahsoka moved forward into the busy central thoroughfare of Mos Espa with Obi-Wan and Satine at her side. Since it was the main artery of traffic and business in the city, the street was lined by stalls and shops, each one selling something different and the merchants calling out in a wide variety of languages but predominantly in Huttese.

Satine stayed close to Obi-Wan’s side as they walked, asking softly what different sellers were saying, and he happily translated for her. They passed a stand selling exotic food from as far away as Corellia and one stand that offered what it was calling traditional Mandalorian “Fire Food” once Obi-Wan translated it back into Basic.

“Oh! It’s trac’lo’ras!” Satine smiled as she drifted over to the stall. “It smells heavenly.”

Ahsoka followed Obi-Wan over to Satine and the Jedi agreed that the skewers of spiced meat looked and smelled divine. She fished out the credits necessary for two skewers and handed them over to the seller, who bowed his head in thanks and said something in a language she wasn’t very familiar with.

Continuing on their way, Satine let out a happy sigh at the little piece of home. “Oh this is delicious! When I was younger and my mother would take me to the market, she would always buy one and share it with me.”

“Master, would you like the rest of mine?” Obi-Wan offered, having eaten about a third of his skewer and unwilling to let Ahsoka starve if he could help it. “It’s quite good but I’m not sure I should put so much on my stomach with all this heat.”

Smiling back at her padawan, Ahsoka took the offered food. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

You won’t be too hungry? she thought as they stepped out of the way of an oncoming landspeeder. And why is Satine wearing your robe?

Obi-Wan glanced up at Ahsoka and bit his lower lip. I… I wanted to protect her from the sun.

Obi-Wan! Ahsoka shook her head and pulled off her robe, with a swirl and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “There. That’s better.”

“But what about you?” Obi-Wan protested but allowed his master to pull the hood up and hide him in its shadows anyway. She could sense his relief in the Force, cool and sweet.

“I’ll be fine,” Ahsoka promised as they came to a stop at the corner of another street, watching the ambling, colorful crowd of Outer Rim civilization pass them by.

Ducking under a nearby awning, it was startling to see how much a difference simple shade made in the omnipresent heat and blinding haze of the Tatooine sunlight. Ahsoka hadn’t really understood her master’s hatred of his home planet, but she was starting to get an inkling.

The three of them paused under the protective shade of a droid merchant’s shop as they watched the chaotic swirl of Mos Espa pass them by. Beings from all corners of the galaxy were there but it was easy to tell the natives from the visitors.

People from off-planet had a faint pink softness about them as their bodies began to adjust to the relentless heat and dryness. They were the ones throwing back expensive canisters of water and dousing themselves or their necks in an attempt to beat the heat at its own game and they left far too much delicate skin bared to the elements.

The natives were the ones covered up in the light colors of sand and dunes, their skin dark, faces sharp and in some, prematurely aged. They stuck to the shade as much as they could, their loose robes flowing and allowing what breeze there was to help stave off the heat.

The Force seemed particularly riotous on Tatooine, as if the sheer variety of people and purposes gave a new dimension to it that Ahsoka had rarely experienced and Obi-Wan had never felt before.

“Are you gonna buy something or just take up space?” the owner of the stall muttered as he stepped out from the cool shadows of his shop. “I’m not running an inn!”

Ahsoka held up her hands and gestured for Obi-Wan and Satine to move on ahead of her. “My apologies, friend. We’ll be on our way.”

“Lazy off-worlders,” the man grumbled, shuffling back inside. “Bunch of no-goods and gamblers making everything a mess for the Boonta.”

Frowning, Ahsoka hurried to catch up to Satine and Obi-Wan, who were now standing on the side of the road watching something up ahead.

When she stepped up next to her padawan she saw what had frozen the two teens in place.

A Nikto and a Weequay were laughing loudly as they stood on either side of a young human woman who was holding a package close to her chest and trying to get away from them. There was a growing circle of space around the trio as people backed away from the scene of the young woman and her harassers, who were picking at the braids in her hair and the protective cloak she was wearing.

“Sarela! Did you boss give you the day off?” The Weequay grinned as he leaned in closer. “You should come spend it with me! I’ll take real good care of you.”

“Don’t listen to that chuta!” The Nikto sneered, wrapping an arm around the girl as he tried to guide her away from the front of the large shop she was trying to purchase goods in. “Everybody knows Trazz is all talk and no meat if you catch my drift!”

“Let go of me!” the girl shouted, trying to break free. “Get your hands off of me!”

There were mutters from the crowd around Ahsoka, whispers about how “Someone should do something,” and then replies of “Won’t matter. They’re Gardulla’s men. Nobody messes with Gardulla.” Anger, frustration, and defeated resignation colored the Force around them.

Obi-Wan seethed at the sight and Ahsoka found it hard to disagree with him. He looked up at his master, his expression pleading for permission to go break a few bones to protect the young woman being accosted.

Minutely shaking her head, Ahsoka reluctantly tried to lead Obi-Wan and Satine past the thickest part of the crowd.

We can’t put Satine in danger like that. If we act, her identity might be revealed and I really don’t like our chances on Tatooine of all places, Ahsoka explained to Obi-Wan, who bristled with outrage as he followed his master, his jaw clenched.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan managed to grind out, trying to guide the Duchess through the crowd. “We’re going, Satine.”

“We can’t!” Satine hissed, keeping her voice low as they struggled through the crowd mesmerized by the ongoing scene. “We can’t let those brutes hurt that poor woman!”

“Master says we cannot risk the danger of exposing you,” Obi-Wan explained, even as he struggled to accept his master’s logic. While he knew it made the most sense and would keep the three of them out of danger, it went against the very fiber of his being, of the Jedi Code and his own morals and what made it even worse was that he could sense his master hating her decision just as much as he did.

“But.. but that’s wrong,” Satine said, looking back at the poor girl. “What if something happens to her?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. That it was more important to keep Satine and Obi-Wan safe.

“Maybe we’re just not being convincing enough,” the Nikto sneered as he patted the blaster on his hip as his friend snickered at his side. “Now why don’t you come with us, Sarela. Me and Trazz just wanna show you a good time. What’s wrong with that?”

“Be a good girl and we won’t tell Gardulla that your folks are behind on their water taxes,” the other thug said, picking up on his buddy’s odious suggestion. “If you’re really nice to us, we’ll forget all about ‘em for a while.”

“No! Please! Let me go!” Sarela pleaded, as the crowd started to disperse, already knowing the endgame of this little overt display of bullying. Things like this happened every day in Mos Espa and all over Tatooine and sometimes it was just better to turn your head and accept it than hope for something more. Something better.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I can’t let this go.

“You know, I don’t think she wants to go anywhere with you,” she called out, the crowd quickly pulling away like the tide rolling out. “In fact, I think you two should leave the girl alone and go about your business.”

The thugs turned slowly to stare at Ahsoka in a kind of dumb-struck, bug-eyed shock. “What did you say?” the Nikto asked.

“I said, you should leave her alone,” Ahsoka replied, striding out toward the men, her head held high, her gaze calm and level and her hands loose at her side. She could feel Obi-Wan’s fierce pride radiating in the Force and Satine’s relief, weaker but still there. She was glad to know that they were all agreed that there were just some things they couldn’t ignore.

“And who the hell are you?” the Nikto spat, jabbing a finger at Ahsoka’s chest.

Ahsoka canted her head ever so slightly and smiled. “A concerned citizen. Now I suggest you and your friend leave... Sarela? It’s Sarela, right?”

The girl nodded, her eyes round in surprise.

“Good,” Ahsoka’s gaze never left the two thugs. “I suggest you and your friend leave Sarela alone.”

“Are you gonna make us?” the other man sneered, arms folded over his chest. “Sarela’s a real good friend of ours, aren’t ya?”

“I d-don’t want any t-trouble,” the girl stammered, looking frantically from Ahsoka to Gardulla’s men. “P-please! I just… I just want… to go home.”

Ahsoka glanced at Sarela, at the panic taking over her spirit, and her lips pulled into a thin line. “You heard her, gentlemen. Let Sarela go home.”

“Kark you, you headtailed bitch!” The Nikto snarled and lashed out with a fist, no doubt hoping to catch Ahsoka by surprise. The crowd, drawn back by Ahsoka’s actions, let out a gasp.

“What the hell?” The Weequay stammered as Ahsoka stood there, as solid as the rocky bluffs of the wastes, her blue eyes bright with anger and the Nikto’s fist caught neatly in her hand. “No way! There’s no karking way!”

The Nikto let out another curse as Ahsoka used his fist and his arm to unbalance him and fling him to the ground. “My arm! That bitch broke my arm!” he howled in pain.

“You’ll live,” Ahsoka sniffed and looked at the Weequay still standing in front of her.

She could feel Obi-Wan’s spirit shifting through the Force to whisper to Sarela, telling her without words to slip into the crowd and run away back to her family, which she did.

“Do you want to try your luck too, friend?” she asked the Weequay.

Enraged this strange woman was making a mockery of him and his buddy, the Weequay pulled out a knife and lashed out at Ahsoka in a wide arc.

She dodged it easily, hopping backwards as the thug advanced. His eyes were wide as he stared at her, caught somewhere between fury and fear. She could tell that he didn’t really want to be in this fight but he couldn’t let the challenge to him and his friend stand. Not when Ahsoka had humiliated them in public like that.

No one would ever respect them again if word got out about this.

He advanced with wild swings, once, twice, and then a third before Ahsoka blocked his right arm with her left, twisted it over and around, pinning it against her side.

The Weequay cried out in pain and dropped his knife.

With her opponent’s torso exposed, Ahsoka pummeled him with a few hits to the guts before she gave him a proper upper cut and let him fall over backward to lie gasping on the ground as he spat red blood into the dust.

Ahsoka stared down at the thugs, her blue eyes brighter than the sky overhead. “Go back to your boss. And never bother that girl again. Do you understand me?”

Compulsion was laced thick through her words, and the Nikto and the Weequay slowly shambled upright and stumbled back into the crowd, muttering to themselves as the curious onlookers dispersed and normalcy resumed.

Ahsoka let the crowd surge up around and past her, letting it carry Obi-Wan and Satine over to her side. She looked at them and gave them a half smile at Obi-Wan’s approving nod and Satine’s relieved and proud grin.

“That was truly amazing, Master Tano,” Satine said as she followed Ahsoka and Obi-Wan back to the edge of the street and the fringes of the crowd. “Those ruffians will certainly think twice about accosting any more innocent people after that.”

“I just hope Sarela is alright,” Ahsoka said as she slid past a large Ithorian arguing with a Rodian about a speeder part as if the entire encounter hadn’t even happened.

Every one had short memories on Tatooine.

“And I think it would be a good idea if we could find a place to stay for the night. Especially after what just happened. I don’t want those idiots to come back looking for us with more friends and even more weapons.”

“But where can we stay?” Obi-Wan asked, following his master and keeping Satine close to his side. “We haven’t enough credits for an inn and we don’t have a ship anymore.”

Ahsoka let out a sigh and came to a stop between two shops, one selling off-world fruits and vegetables and the other selling a variety of alcohol from all around the Outer Rim. She pulled Obi-Wan and Satine close as they started to discuss what they were going to do about lodgings.

“I’m sure there’s some place we can stay,” Ahsoka assured her padawan and the Duchess. “Mos Espa is big enough to have a place that we can afford somewhere and then tomorrow we can see about earning some credits to get us off this planet.”

“Perhaps we could try one of the inns near the spaceport?” Satine suggested. “I thought one of them said the nightly rent was ten credits for a room. I would be happy to sleep on the floor if it would save us money.”

“You don’t want to do that,” an accented, feminine voice interrupted their conversation, carried on the faintest breeze. “That’s where the night flowers work.”

Ahsoka looked back over her shoulder at the owner of the voice, a petite woman with dark hair coiled into a thick braid at the base of her neck. She was inside the produce stall, picking out some brightly colored sunset fruits from Corellia and setting them into a basket that was covered with a bright green cloth.

Reaching out to the Force on instinct, Ahsoka found it was silent but warm and reassuring to her senses. “Thank you, my friend. If you don’t mind me asking, is there a place you would recommend we stay?”

“What’s a night flower?” Satine asked Obi-Wan, who leaned over and whispered the explanation in her ear. She let out a gasp and turned bright red, slapping a hand over her mouth.

The woman smiled at the fruit in her hand and looked up at Ahsoka, her expression exhausted but her dark eyes kind. “Not if you’re considering the Night Flower Garden. Do you have no money?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No. We… we didn’t plan on coming to Tatooine.”

The woman nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Most people don’t. What is your name?”

“Ahsoka. This is Obi-Wan and her name is Satine.”

Obi-Wan bowed and Satine gave a little curtsey as they chorused, “Hello.”

“Are they… your children?” the woman asked, her brows puzzled as she put the last of her shopping in the basket. She pulled a tan scarf up over her head and tossed the loose edge over her shoulder, the warmth in the Force leaving with her as she moved away.

“I protect them,” Ahsoka explained, watching the other woman as she walked up to the shop keeper and pulled back the cloth that was covering the food, handing over a few credits after he gave her the total.

“Give Gardulla my best,” the merchant said as the woman stepped out onto the street and gave Ahsoka a long look before beckoning her to follow.

They moved down the street, the woman a few feet ahead of them, weaving in and out of the crowd, gliding past clutches of people. She came to the end of the busier section of the main road and waited for Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Satine to catch up.

“I saw what you did for Sarela,” the woman said, holding a hand up by her mouth, her words soft. “I saw you stand up to Gardulla’s thugs. I haven’t seen anyone stand up to my master’s men in a long time.”

“Your master?” Satine echoed, her eyes growing wide with a dawning realization. “Oh no!”

The woman glanced at Satine but did not reply as she moved ahead, looking Ahsoka up and down. “You are right. You will need to stay out of sight. You are very distinctive, even for a mercenary.”

“My master’s not a mercenary,” Obi-Wan tried to explain, reaching for his lightsabers when Ahsoka stopped him.

Mercenary works for now, Obi-Wan. Let’s not blow our cover just yet.

“Well, whatever she is, she needs to hide and you do too,” the woman explained, giving Obi-Wan and Satine a look as she folded her arms over her chest. “Your accents make you exotic here and exotic things do not stay free for long on Tatooine. You may stay with me and my son. It is the least I can do after what you did for Sarela.”

“We couldn’t,” Ahsoka said, sensing the anxiety and tension coming off of the woman in heavy, swamping waves. What she was offering was clearly going to put her and her son at risk and Ahsoka didn’t want to put anymore lives in danger than she absolutely had to. “I’m sure we’ll find some other place to stay.”

“You won’t,” the woman insisted, shaking her head. “We don’t get many Togruta off-worlders, let alone females capable of taking down two of Gardulla’s men. Word will get around fast. You’ll be safer in the slave quarters.”

“The slave quarters?” Ahsoka echoed, the Force louder now in the back of her mind, urging her to follow the woman, to accept her offer. “You’re a slave?”

“Yes,” the woman explained and stepped out into the sunlight. “Gardulla is my master. My name is Shmi.”

Shmi. Her name is Shmi and she has a son.

“My mother’s name was Shmi,” Anakin said one night of a long forgotten siege as they had stared up at the stars overhead. “And I know she would have liked you, Snips.”

Ahsoka froze, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest as Obi-Wan and Satine almost ran into her.

Her mind went blank.

She struggled for something to say, what to think about this sudden revelation that Anakin’s mother was there, right in front of her. That their long, hard flight from Mandalore had taken them to right where they needed to be.

“Master?” Obi-Wan murmured, reaching out to touch the back of Ahsoka’s arm, his spirit brushing hers, warm and golden with concern. “Are you alright?”

Shmi came to a stop in the middle of the road and looked back at them, confused. “Ahsoka? Are you coming?”

You coming or not, Snips? A warm memory of a voice thought long lost broke through the stunned white noise of Ahsoka’s mind, bringing with it a wave of joy, relief, and the sudden terrified realization that she was about to change the future irrevocably.

There was no going back.

Everything was going to change and it was going to be her responsibility to see that it was for the better.

Why are you here, if not to change things? The Presence whispered in the back of Ahsoka’s mind. Don’t be afraid. You won’t be alone. Obi-Wan is with you. This is as much his destiny as it is yours.

Ahsoka looked down at Obi-Wan, his furrowed brows and his worry radiating out into the Force, that was swirling around them both like a river about to burst over its banks. He had no idea what was about to happen, who they were about to meet, and how his life was going to change. Ahsoka wanted to pull him into a hug right then and there and shout, “It’s him! We found him! Your padawan and my master. We found Anakin! And we’ll save him this time. We won’t lose him.”

And then it felt like a knife in her heart that she couldn’t tell him, that she couldn’t share just how important and momentous this was.

“Master Tano?” Satine murmured, stepping up next to Obi-Wan. “Mother Skywalker is telling us to follow her.”

Ahsoka shook herself out of her thoughts and looked up at Shmi, whose dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “I’m sorry. I think the sun is getting to me.”

Shmi shook her head and continued on. “Then we need to get you inside. Come on.”

Shmi told Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Satine to wait in an alleyway around the corner from Gardulla’s palace on the edge of Mos Espa. She had to drop off the shopping she had done for the Hutt’s kitchen before she went home for the day.

“You don’t stay in the palace?” Satine asked, puzzled because while her family’s servants and retainers stayed within the Kryze compound, she couldn’t imagine a Hutt allowing their slaves to wander free.

Shmi shook her head with the studied patience of one who had explained this many times before. “No. I have a tracker chip embedded within me so I couldn’t run away even if I stole a ship. The minute I try to leave the atmosphere, the chip detonates, opening an artery or injecting a poison. I don’t know which. The ones who are poisoned, they call them ‘dancers’ because of the seizures the poison causes.”

Satine let out a horrified gasp. “That’s barbaric.”

“That is how it is out here,” Shmi explained, her eyes soft as she reached out to squeeze the young girl’s shoulder. “There is no slavery on your world, is there? This must be hard for you to hear.”

Satine shook her head fiercely. “There should not be slavery anywhere.”

Shmi chuckled softly. “You will get no argument out of me on that topic. Stay here while I take this to the cook. I should be back shortly.”

Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Satine watched her go, waiting for her to pass out of sight before speaking again, voices quiet and hushed.

“We have to save her,” Satine insisted, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “This is wrong! Putting an explosive chip in someone and violating their civil liberties! It’s abhorrent.”

“But we haven’t any credits,” Obi-Wan said, his arms folded over his chest and one hand in front of his mouth as he chewed on his thumbnail. “And we still need to find a way off this planet and back to Coruscant.”

“Perhaps we could barter for something,” Satine suggested as Ahsoka leaned back up against the wall and stared off into the distance, her mind whirling with thoughts and possibilities, different futures unspooling before her like bolts of fabric flung out into a river to wash downstream with the current. “Do we have anything we could sell?”

“Nothing that will free Shmi and get all four of us back to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said, peering at the bag he had been carrying all day. “It’s mostly Master’s datapads and a few emergency rations and a medkit. Nothing that will fetch us any decent money.”

Satine groaned, rubbing her temples. “If only I could contact my uncle. If he’s found the informant, we could have the money wired here and leave in two days’ time.”

“That is a lovely thought, Satine, but we can’t risk it,” Obi-Wan said, his voice kind but brooking no argument. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Don’t you agree, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s words startled Ahsoka out of her meditations and she turned to look at the two teenagers next to her. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. And there’s five of us. Shmi has a son, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I forgot about him. How old is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Ahsoka shrugged as the Force alerted her to Shmi’s return. “Here she comes!”

Shmi came around the corner and walked down the alleyway to them, pulling her scarf up over her hair. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long. The taskmaster didn’t want to let me leave early.”

“Did we get you in trouble?” Ahsoka asked as they fell in line behind Shmi, who led them across another wide road before heading into a alleyway between two older buildings.

“No, no!” Shmi said, waving her concerns off. “He understands that I have a young son at home and sometimes he needs me. It’s part of the reason I stay in the slave quarters and not in Gardulla’s palace. They can’t stand to hear him cry.”

“Oh. How old is he?”

“Almost two in a few months,” Shmi answered with a happy smile. “He is my whole world. He has been the best thing to happen to me since I entered into this life.”

As they spoke they crossed over a smaller street and into a part of Mos Espa that had seen better days. The mud brick buildings were built one on top of the other, like a warren or a beehive.

The doors to the different homes were open to allow in the breeze and groups of children ran around, laughing and calling out to each other as they played a complicated game of tag. A quartet of women were sitting in the long shadow of a row of houses, gathered around a battered and dusty table. They were shelling beans as they talked and watched the the neighborhood children.

The youngest of the group, clearly pregnant, was the one who saw them first. “Shmi! You’re back early! Is something wrong? Who are these people?”

“These are my friends, Abarrane,” Shmi answered, gesturing to Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Satine. “They protected Sarela from Trazz and Drez.”

“I heard about that!” one of the older woman gasped, peering up at Ahsoka with watery eyes the color of old jade. “Of course, I heard it was a Twi’lek! Thought it was maybe Nalea. Thought she’d finally had enough of those brutes bothering her girlfriend. Well, good job, young one. It couldn’t have happened to a rougher pair of bullies.”

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said, bowing her head. “I just wanted to help.”

“Not enough people in the galaxy like you,” the old woman observed before she caught sight of one of the children up to something dangerous. “Oi! Greedo! Get down from there! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“How is he?” Shmi asked Abarrane, trading a loaf of bread and some dried figs from the shop for her own bowl of shucked legumes and a package wrapped in waxed flimsi. “Did he give you any trouble?”

“Of course not,” Abarrane replied with a wide smile. “He was an angel. He’s been napping for about an hour.”

“Oh good,” Shmi sighed, and her relief flooded through the Force.

Ahsoka thought it was strange that someone who did not possess Force sensitivity could have such a direct effect on the Force around her. But whatever that meant, she would have to think about it later, she decided as Shmi invited them into her home. “Please come in. It’s a little small but we can make it work.”

Satine and Obi-Wan entered, followed by Ahsoka, and all three happy to find the temperature dropping once they were out of the sun and protected from the oppressive heat by the stone walls around them.

Shmi came in last and closed the door, activating a small circulation system as she directed her guests into the main living area. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m just going to check up on my son.”

Satine took a seat on a plasticrete chair while Obi-Wan sat down on a wooden bench. He offered it to his master but Ahsoka shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I’d rather stand.”

“I’m surprised at how cool it is,” Satine murmured her eyes taking in the details of construction and the small little decorations Shmi had added, from a colorful, if faded, wall hanging made of knotwork and beading to a thin but well-maintained blanket which was folded carefully over the one upholstered chair in the room that all three had left empty for their host.

“Mud-brick buildings are used in hot and arid climates because the bricks serve as insulation,” Obi-Wan explained to Satine. “It keeps the homes cool in the day and warm at night. The desert can be deadly cold at times.”

“I am aware of what a desert can be like,” Satine replied with a wry grin. “I do come from one, you know.”

Obi-Wan turned red. “I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to imply… Of course you would be well aware of the dangers of such an environment!”

Satine let out a giggle and shook her head as Ahsoka smiled. “I was teasing, Obi-Wan.”

“Ah, well, yes,” Obi-Wan blushed even more and looked away before he searched for a topic to hide his embarrassment. “Did we ever catch Shmi’s son’s name?”

“It’s Anakin,” Shmi said, standing in the hallway that opened onto the room where her guests were sitting, her son tucked up against her side. The little boy let out a soft yawn and tried to bury his face in his mother’s shoulder, clearly wanting to go back to his nap. Shmi shifted him around and gently kissed his forehead, whispering to him that they had guests.

It’s him. It has to be him, Ahsoka thought in amazement. After all this time.

“These are friends, Ani,” Shmi whispered to her son, rubbing her hand down his back as he slowly woke up and took in the people around him. “This is… Satine, right?”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, wiggling her fingers in greeting. “Hello, Anakin!”

The small boy blinked at her, his little face wrinkled with confusion before his mother turned toward Ahsoka, who stepped away from the wall to walk over to Shmi and Anakin and smile down at the young boy. “This is Ahsoka and she is a Togruta. Can you say ‘Togruta’, Ani?”

Anakin could not say Togruta but he did let out a delighted giggle as he reached for one of Ahsoka’s lekku, his chubby fist grasping in the air. His face lit up, as did the Force around him, filling the room with such a pure, radiant happiness it almost made Ahsoka cry for joy.

Ahsoka gently stroked Anakin’s cheek as Shmi told him it was very rude to pull on someone’s lekku. “Hello, Little One.”

Hello, Skyguy. I found you.

And finally, Shmi introduced the last guest. “This young man is Obi-Wan. Say ‘hello’ to Obi-Wan, Ani!”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a wide grin and bowed his head, meeting the boy’s gaze with his own. “Hello, Anakin. It’s a pleasure to meet… you,” he said, trailing off in wonder and awe at the boy’s brilliant presence in the Force.

Anakin just smiled and shyly mumbled, “Hello.”

#Tano and Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Qui-Gon Jinn #Bigger than life and twice as snippy #Someone you don't want to mess with #You burn in your own flames #The Most Problematic Glacier in the Galaxy #HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!#BABY ANAKIN IS HERE!#LET'S BREAK OUT THE CHAMPAGNE AND HAVE A PARTY!#WOOOOHOOOOO!#OUR FAVORITE TINY SPACE BEAN IS HERE AND HE'S ADORABLE!#We'll see more of Obi-Wan's reactions in the next chapter #BUT ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS HERE!!!!!#WOOHOOOOO!#*eyebrow wiggles*

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lubdubsworld · 7 years

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Sleepwalking to you , It’s out of my Control ( Jhope fic)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 ( Be sure to follow me on here for updates )

When I came downstairs the next morning ,a huge rush of relief swept through me when I saw my husband sitting near the couch, dressed in his usual tank top, now hanging a little loose on his frame and comfortable shorts. He was flicking through the channels, a bowl of cereal in his lap .

I realized with a jolt that I really had been terrified that he would change his mind. But as I stood there , at the foot of the stairs while he faced away from me, the reality of our relationship sunk in like a nail through a muffin . Hoseok had been in love with Hyeri for well over eight years. So many years before he'd even known me. there was no reason for him to choose me instead.

Except that i was so, so glad that he had.

But that didn't change anything. He was still in love with her anyway. I shook my head to get rid of that particular thought. It wasn't his fault. I wasn't petty enough to blame him for something he had no control on. anyways, it wasn't like he had to repay me for my services by deciding to stay with me. That just made me seem even more pathetic. But , what now? I had about three million won worth of loans to pay off and for some reason, i felt loathe to tell him about them now.

"I see you've made up your mind." I said casually and he turned slowly, giving me a look.

"Can we talk?" He said softly and I sighed.

"Go ahead." I settled on the couch next to him, leaning forward slightly to grip the edge of the couch.

"There's something I've been thinking about. i do want to return . And even if you don't believe it, I've been thinking about it way before Hyeri suggested it. Just think about this situation. You have a life of your own and I'm not going to keep you away from it. Also, Taehyung thinks that if I want to get better, fully , I should try to get back to my routine. Do the things I used to do. Seokjin thinks I can progress to crutches now, so I should... try to work hard and manage on my own. I don't want to stay here and get pampered. " He said softly.

I didn't reply, staring straight ahead.

"But... But... i want you to come with me."

I startled, not prepared for that.

"You.. You want..."

"i want us to go back home. To our apartment. Our life. Don't you want that?" He said softly and one would think that we had been blissfully married in that place , as opposed to bitter acquaintances, i stared at him , feeling suddenly boneless. He looked so beautiful, tired but attractive. Was this it? Was he actually thinking of giving us a chance? I didn't know but I knew that I would have agreed to anything in that moment.

"Hobi, I ... I would love that. I just... I'm just glad you didn't want to stop getting treatment or-"

"I'm not an idiot. Hyeri's a nice kid and there's no doubt she thought she was doing the right thing by offering to marry me but honestly I can't really take advantage of her like that. When I.. I mean.. if i do marry her, I'd rather be the best version of myself, don't you think? And you're right. If I want to I really think I can dance again." He said with a soft smile .

I noticed the way he absolved his girlfriend of all blame and tried not to let it hurt. He still wanted to marry her. I tried to make sense of what was actually happening in my life. One minute it felt like he was opening up his heart and i felt like i was soaring , only to get dashed to the ground. It was the most exhausting thing in the world. Sighing, I stretched a little and managed a weak little smile.

"I... I don't have anywhere to go anyway." I said jokingly although it was the absolute truth. It had taken me four years to save a million won and i'd spent it all on Hoseok's surgery. Without the money, i had nowhere to go to.

Hoseok smiled.

"I'm glad we can ... I'm glad we're friends." He said suddenly. " I know that I haven't been the best guy to be with but, I really am happy that we've grown close. i think you're a nice person. A really nice person and i hope that when all this is over, we can still stay good friends..." He said softly and I shuffled on my feet awkwardly.

"Okay. I.. Yeah. i'd like that." I managed a weak smile. " Now, why don't you go get changed. I'll get the breakfast ready. " I left the room quickly.

~~~~~~~

Exactly one week later, we had managed to move back home and Yoongi had gone the extra mile, re arranging the furniture so Hoseok could actually use his new crutches. He hadn't actively managed to walk with them yet, but Seokjin was sure he could, very soon. It took some getting used to, being back in our apartment and not going at each others throats and instead actually trying to co habit. But, Hoseok had gotten a hang of moving around without me so I had started work with Yoongi again. Yoongi who was kind enough to let me leave early, work a bit from home and also gave me a raise.

"We should go out for dinner , some day." Hoseok said casually one evening, while I finished doing the bills for the month and he flipped through the channels.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah. Seokjin hyung told me about this great restaurant in Itaewon. It's a little fancy so we'd have to dress up a bit. But it will be a nice change, don't you think?" He said , turning around to smile hopefully at me. I stared down at the bills and sighed.

"What kind of budget are you talking about?" I frowned, glancing at the extra cash of just 80000 won for the rest of the month.

"it's a fixed price of 90000 won.Besides, it won't be just us. Everyone's coming, Taehyung, Yoongi and Seokjin . " He said with a little smile and I choked.

"We'll have to starve for the rest of the month. Find somewhere cheaper." I said firmly, putting the bills back in the folder and pushing the calculator away as well.

"oh, come on. I spoke to one of the producers i'm working with. He owes me a check for some work I did for him. Let's treat ourselves, Jiah. We could both use some time off, right?" He said softly and as always, I caved. Weak for that stupid smile of his. Apparently, the past few months had made me worse.

"I don't have fancy dresses. " i said honestly.

"what about the one you wore to my first showcase. The red one." He said casually, flipping through channels again and i blinked in genuine surprise, because one, that was four years ago and i hadn't even known him back then. My friends had dragged me there and I'd been honestly impressed by Hobi but I had never in a million years dreamed that i would be marrying him. How did he know?

Worse, how did he remember what i was wearing??

He must've seen the look on my face because he laughed.

"You were in the front and when my partner tried to pull you on stage for the last bit , you screeched like an owl." He said with a grin and i felt mortified. What kind of detail was that to remember for five years, really?

"That... I... Your friend.. he.. he grabbed me out of nowhere and..,"

"Relax. i thought it was really cute, actually. And jimin still can't believe i ended up married to you. "

Cute? Okay then.

"So, I'll make the reservation?" He said casually and I nodded. But not before reaching out and lightly gripping his thigh. He jumped at once and i flushed.

"sorry.. Sorry ... i.. Seokjin.. he's .. i mean he told me to make sure you still felt your legs. i mean, he wanted me to do it when you weren't conscious." I said stupidly and Hoseok gave me a look of disbelief.

"Sometimes that guy sounds like an actual quack. First the herbs and now this?" He shook his head. I laughed.

"but it's good isn't it. You've got sensation in your legs. You ... I mean.. you're slowlly becoming okay." I said softly.

Hoseok sighed deeply.

"I don't know anymore. I just... I guess, i'll take it one day at a time."

I stared at him but didn't push the subject.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In retrospect, we shouldn't have gotten drunk.

But it was a 95000 won dinner and the wine was complimentary so of course we weren't going to waste a single drop of it. The food was amazing. Hoseok kept me laughing throughout, regaling me with stories about his days as a trainee at the dance club and i couldn't help but notice the way he dimpled, the way his eyebrows quirked when he laughed and the way his teeth sunk into his lower lip when he tried to keep that full bodied laugh of his under rein. I could feel the tell tale signs of reduced inhibitions and tingling desire unfurl in the pit of my stomach, making my thighs shake slightly and really, this was why i didn't trick.

The last time I'd gotten drunk I'd done something very very awful as well.

But the company was good and the food was great so i let my guard down. The rest of the guys arrive about forty minutes after us and we settled into good natured bickering and teasing. As i cut into my steak , i realized that i knew these men because of hoseok. Yet, i could confidently say that i was closer to them than i was to him. How did that work, anyway? But it had happened and now here he was pressed right up next to me, wearing a nice black jacket, a black silk shirt that was unbuttoned enough to show off his chest. He's left his hair up, and honestly who knew someone's forehead could be that sexy?

But i tried to keep the admiration objective. He wasn't mine in any way , form or shape to admire, anyway. I stared at him, the easy smiles, the way his long fingers curled around the chopsticks and the way he shifted with a little difficulty, moving his weight to his hands, leaning them on the seat to maneuver himself because he couldn't use his legs. It left a pang in my heart. I had seen him on stage, using those mile long legs in ways that defied physics and it seemed like the worst form of cruelty, for someone like Hoseok to lose the use of their legs.

But he was getting it back, i thought firmly. it was now, nearly three months and he was showing ' exemplary almost miraculous' progress according to Seokjin. I knew that he was going to be a dancer again . The question was, what would we be, then?

Friends, i reminded myself with a slight grimace. It wasn't that I resented him but it was hard to accept that you'd spent the best years of your life in a relationship that had been doomed from the start. Maybe if i'd never married Hoseok, I would be with someone who actually loved me. Well, there it was. The ever increasing feeling of self doubt and self pity. This was why i didn't drink. But as the evening wore on, it was hard not to keep reaching for the glass as they kept refilling it. Each time I took a sip, it seemed to hurt less to look at him and finally, by the time we paid and bid good bye to our friends, I had enough alcohol in me to actually drape my arm around his waist, supporting his waist as Seokjin helped me into his car.

"Seokjin... I'm plastered." Hoseok said suddenly and Seokjin laughed.

"Go get rest the pair of you." He said firmly, his voice annoyingly steady after drinking nothing but sparkling water all night.

"Well, of course, we're going to sleep. What else would we do?" Hoseok's voice dipped with innuendo and somewhere through the haze of inebriation, alarm bells rang inside me.

"uh... nothing, i guess. " Seokjin said, suddenly sounding awkward.

"Wait, did you think we would have sex?" Hoseok choked out, laughing and i sobered up momentarily.

"Hobi.. stop." i said, mortified.

"What? it's the truth isn't it? We're married. Technically, we're both drunk enough to be hornier than usual. God knows you look great in that dress. But too bad, Jin hyung. i can't really have sex with her because my wife, like every other woman on the planet is repulsed by me. Wanna guess why? Because i can't get a hard-on. " He choked out.

Silence.

i felt like there were a million fire ants crawling all over my skin.

"That's enough. Just..stop." I whispered.

He actually listened and turned away, staring broodingly out of the window while i tried to keep my senses. Maybe the hangover would be kind enough to make both of us forget this by tomorrow.

But once Seokjin dropped us off, it only got worse. I'd managed to help him into bed but my head was heavy and my vision was blurring. I was drunk. As I reached for his jacket, tugging it off, he grabbed my wrist roughly.

"Even whores won't sleep with me." He said suddenly and I jumped, trying to focus.

"Hoseok , stop. You're drunk and-"

"When you went grocery shopping last week. Seokjin hyung took me to a strip club. You know what happened? One of the best looking women there, dressed in nothing but a fucking thong, she gave me a fucking lap dance . And yet i couldn't get it up for her. She was disgusted. Do you know how it felt, knowing that no woman would sleep with me even if I paid her to do it. " He laughed mirthless and i stopped brushing my hand across his chest, the fabric of his shirt cool and soft against my palm, the firm strength of his chest seeping into my body like a drug.

" Hobi... we're both drunk. We shouldn't be talking about this.." i slurred and he sighed.

"Do you think that way too? think I'm pitiful. Is that why you're here? Because you feel sorry for the poor man who isn't even really a man anymore."

Fuck you, Hyeri, I thought with a shuddering breath before pressing a palm against his cheek.

"You're the most handsome , sexiest man I've ever met or known." i said, loud and clear and honestly it wasn't even a lie. Only my mouth wouldn't stop there. My mind did. it pulled the plug on that devastating thought by my mouth went ahead and spat it out anyway. " I think you're sexy. "

I blinked and he blinked back.

"You're lying..." He whispered finally. " You could have any man on the planet. You don't want me." He said softly and I scoffed.

"How much did you offer that girl to have sex with you?" I said without thinking straight. I had a pretty good idea what was going to come tumbling out of my mouth, but i also knew that it would literally be the worst possible thing to say.

don't say it. oh , God Jiah don't say it.

":Because I'll sleep with you for free. " I whispered.

Hoseok stared at me for a long minute and then slowly he shut his eyes.

"Can I.. Will you just, let me try something?" he said softly, fingers reaching out and pressing against the hem of my neckline, fingertips lightly tracing a circle on my skin , eyes fixed on my neck. I blinked , feeling a bit like my skin was being burned. Somewhere, my mind screamed to run. But the haze of inebriation was clouding my senses, enough to make me lean into his touch.

"What?" I said stupidly, leaning closer. It was almost like a dream, letting him press his pillowy soft lips against mine and it felt even better to let his fingers trail down my back, fingers closing over the zipper before gently tugging it down. I melted a little when he grabbed the edges of the gown easing it off me like he was unwrapping a gift and I didn't even protest when his teeth sunk into my bottom lip, nibbling on the skin till my head began to swim.

It was easy, incredibly easy to just let him drag me into the bed with me, let my fingers unbutton each button on his shirt, push the offending fabric off him and press my palms against the smooth expanse of his chest and press my self against him like i belonged there.

And that was the last thing i remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think the worst thing about a hangover is the complete and utter self-disgust that fills you when you wake up. It's a billion times worse, when said self disgust is coupled with a walk of shame, where you gather your discarded clothes from around your husband's bed, praying to every deity in the world that he shouldn't wake up . And more importantly, that he shouldn't remember what had happened. I felt sore in all the wrong places and the first and foremost thought was : Jung Hoseok, you liar! impotent, my ass!!

Crawling back into my own bed, felt like defeat in its worse form and i spent a few minutes just screaming into my pillow, willing the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Sex.

I had sex with Jung Hoseok.

I tried to repeat that a few more times, hoping the horror would diminish but it only grew exponentially.

What the hell did i do now? ( Other than drown in the Han river, that is.)

"You're such an idiot. An idiot." I said firmly and saying it out loud didn't make me feel better either.

"Jiah?"

My husband's low, cautious voice made me freeze. And then came the soft sound of wheels on hardwood, the creak of the door and a second later, a rumpled, disheveled Jung hoseok came into view, hair a gravity defying mess and face pale and lips wet. He looked hellish in the early light of dawn and i felt a pang of sympathy. Except i was feeling a lot worse, to be honest.

"I feel like death." He said hoarsely." What the hell happened last night?"

I opened my mouth and then quickly shut it. Here it was, my get out of jail free card. Feeling like a fraudster , I grinned wide

"WE just a had a little too much to drink and ..uh.. we made out a little . " I forced out a laugh. " But don't worry, you passed out and i came back to my bed . So nothing happened!" I said firmly.

Please believe it. Please don't question me about it.

Hoseok still looked a little unsure and I knew that at some point he was probably going to remember bits and pieces of last night. Hopefully he wouldn't bring it up. Which was probabaly the worst plan I could have had , in retrospect. But I was desperate. Our relationship was fragile enough without me hurling a ten tonne grenade at it , by admitting i had sex with him.

Oh, God. Why on earth did I do that?!!

"Are you sure? I just... My body aches so damn much." He groused. He still had that sleep heavy timbre to his voice, his

"Of course it does. You probably fell off the bed." I said vaguely, moving closer and lightly patting his head, the gesture unbearably awkward. My fingers slipped into his hair with ease and muscle memory told me that I'd gripped those strands pretty hard last night.

Oh, god I was so screwed.

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist lightly, eyes freezing me on the spot as he stared at me.

"Are you lying to me?" He drawled slowly, thumb rubbing a circle on my wrist and i nearly caved.

"I.. No. What? Why would i lie?"

Hoseok stared at me a seocnd longer and then hummed thoughtfully. I subtly tried to pull my hand away from the heat of his grip but the movement only made his fingers tighten. I felt the touch like an electric shock, pulsing through my veins and making breathing difficult. I could smell him, that faint scent of pine and citrus and clean male skin. I felt saliva pool at the back of my throat because i had a vague idea how he tasted.

I had to struggle to keep my face neutral.

"Alright then. Because i had a really, really weird dream last night. "

I could feel sweat bead on my hairline , my throat suddenly going dry.

I cleared my throat.

"Dream?" I said, surprised by how steady i sounded considering the internal chaos I was experiencing.

"Yeah." He was still staring at me with that unreadable look on his face. " i dreamt that we did some pretty unholy things to each other."

I couldn't stop the squeak that came out of me, yanking my hand away in a panic.

"Hoseok, what on earth-"

"In fact, the dream felt so real, i swear my bedsheets smell like you..." He raised an eyebrow and i deflated.

"I.. It's not... " I stopped, unsure how to finish that particular thought.

Hoseok laughed then, suddenly and explosively.

"Stop looking like someone died. i'm sure we couldn't have done anything serious, considering the condition I'm in." He shook his head.

Really? The pain between my legs begs to disagree.

"Uh.. Yeah. sure. You're right." I laughed awkwardly.

"So, make me some hangover soup, will you?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Go take a shower first." I gagged, walking around him to the kitchen.

#bangtan #bangtan fics #bts hoseok #bts jhope

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madamlaydebug · 7 years

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Slavery in the US didn't end on Jan. 1, 1863, when President Abraham Lincoln issued his Emancipation Proclamation. It didn't officially end until Dec. 6, 1865, the day the 13th Amendment to the Constitution was ratified. This means that on the Fourth of July 1776 when America gained her independence the enslavement of African Americans continued for almost another 100 years. In spite of this fact millions of African Americans today celebrates the 4th of July holiday. Had the Nazi Party created a holiday while the Khazar Jews were imprisoned within concentration camps (therefore excluded them) in no way would that holiday be celebrated nor even recognized by modern Kharzar Jews. The reason why most African Americans celebrates the 4th of July holiday (although it historically didn't include them) is because unlike the Khazar Jews that are encouraged and educated to never forget their nearly 12 year holocaust, African Americans (to the contrary) have been miseducated, socialized, and strongly encouraged to forget their 400 year holocaust that resulted in millions of more deaths. It is for this reason why some African Americans literally feels more sympathy towards the Jewish holocaust then they do their own much harsher and longer lasting African holocaust. Black people in order to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery we must first recognize that we've been social engineered to think in ways that serves the interests of white societies. It is foolish to believe that when our enslavers controls our educational development and media contents that they wouldn't use this monopoly to socially engineer our minds to think in ways that protects their interests. Have you ever wondered how is it possible that so many Black people now so deeply admires the caucasians in spite of such a brutal history to the contrary? It is no secret that the caucasians have treated the Black people brutally savagely throughout history. The caucasian's subjugation, murder and exploitation of Black people throughout history are unparalleled. Against Black people caucasians have committed crimes against humanity. Yet in spite of this brutal history many Black people are now extremely enamored by caucasians. So much in fact that some Black people even bleaches their skins and activity seeks out only white spouses. What explains such a profound contradiction? The answer to this perplex question isn't very difficult at all. The reason for this immense contradiction is not because Black people are foolish or forgetful as some have frustratingly and short sightedly stated. The real reason is because from their established positions of power, prominent white historians have revised history making caucasians appear lesser inhumane and more relevant throughout history. Virtually every movie made or history text book written about the civil rights movement era, the enslavement of Africans, or the colonization of Africa undergoes white censorship-in one form or another. This white control have allowed whites to tell our stories in ways that serves their interests. The version of history given to Black people has been heavily revised to hide to the true brutality of the crimes committed by whites against Blacks throughout history--and in doing so fosters an inaccurate more favorable image of whites throughout history. Therefore Black people have been deliberately socially engineered--through miseducation--to forget the true extent of the historic brutal mistreatment committed by caucasians against their race and made instead to admire whites. This indoctrination has been intensely ongoing for 400 years. Generation after generation of Black people have been bombarded with propaganda favoring whites and marginalizing themselves from the womb to the tomb. The human mind is like a computer no matter how efficient it may be its reliability is only as great as the information fed into it. If it’s possible to control the input into the human mind, then no matter how intelligent a person may be it is entirely possible to control what he will think. Since caucasians controls virtually all information given to black people, this unfair arrangement allows them to shrewdly indoctrinate thoughts and ideologies into the minds of Black people that serves the interests of white societies. Throughout western history those empires that brutally mistreated their oppressed population, fearing an eventual retribution from the oppressed, have always found it necessary to miseducate the oppressed to think in ways that protects the interests of the oppressive dominant society. To the detriment of we Black people, this is the situation we now endure living under white dominance. THIS CONDITIONING OF BLACK MINDS STARTS DURING THE EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK STUDENT. This conditioning of Black people first begins within their schools when their minds are young and most impressionable. It is a setting wherein which Black students from kindergarten through twelfth grade are being routinely and consistently miseducated through curriculums almost exclusively dedicated to white ideologies, achievements, contributions and history. Moreover, it marginalizes the many contribution made by Black people and also cuts Black students off from the knowledge of themselves by beginning their history with their enslavement, rather than with striving African Empires--rendering them totally ignorant of their history before slavery. For these reasons the gravely needed information about themselves needed to affirm and nurture Black students’ self-esteem and aspirations are deliberately withheld from their educational development. To put it more bluntly: The racist ideology of the white societies [that implies white superiority and black inferiority] is being pumped into the impressionable young minds of generations of Black students --without being counterbalance by the equal amount of positive Black racially affirming information. Naturally Black students’ are very vulnerable to such a demoralizing setting because they are subjected to it for seven hours a day from the age of five through eighteen. Clearly, considerable damage can be done to the mental health of many Black students within such a large time frame. This conditioning is intentionally designed to instills the myth of white superiority into the young impressionable subconsciously minds of Black students during their educational development. While many Black students are able to resist this programming and develop the mental fortitude that enables them to acquire a healthy self esteem, far too many are systematically mortified by an educational curriculum designed to perpetuate the myth of white superiority. AFRICAN AMERICANS HAVE ALSO BEEN TAUGHT A FALSE VERSION OF THE SLAVE TRADE THAT BLAMES IT MORE GREATLY ON AFRICANS THAN UPON EUROPEANS: White historian's depictions of the African slave trade intentionally miseducates African American students to believe that most of their African ancestors were merely sold away to the white invader. Their depiction of the African Slave trade deliberately hides the brutal massacre of countless of African Warriors that died in battle trying to rescue their captured love ones from the slave ships. As the African warriors charged the beaches the ship's crew shot cannons and countless numbers of rifle bullets into their bodies. Leaving thousands of blood soaked Black bodies laying on beaches. The number of Africans that died in battles fought against the white invaders far exceeded, many times over, the number of any African's that may have assisted in the slave trade. The hiding of these fierce battles and massacres is deliberately done to perpetuate the falsehood that most African Americans were sold away by their ancestors. The participation of Africans in the African slave trade have also been greatly exaggerated to reduce whites culpability in the slave trade. This revision intentionally makes the white invaders appear more humane, and shifts the blame of the African slave trade more greatly upon native Africans. Whites have clearly used psychological warfare against Black people within their depiction of the history of slavery in America. To further convey the falsehood that most African slaves were sold away by other Africans, several white artist were hired to create pictures of Africans selling their fellow Africans to the white invaders. These propaganda arts are design to shift the culpability of the African slave trade away from the white invaders and place that blame onto the native Africans. Reproductions of those drawings and paintings can still be found within America's school text books today. Therefore, every time that an African American students reads about the African slave trade those pictures are placed between the texts subliminally conveying the message that it was the Africans that wronged you and not the white invaders. HOWEVER, critically think, and ask yourself this question: If Africans owned all the natural resources of gold, diamonds, oils, minerals, and animal skins, fur, and wine, Western money had no value in Africa, and the Western world had nothing Africa needed what then could the white invaders trade to get several millions slaves? What possible commodity did the white invaders have that was of such great value, and they possessed in such high abundance that they could give to the Africans in exchange for over 60 millions of Black people? And perhaps even most importantly, why wouldn't the greedy white invaders maximize their profits by using their weaponry advantage of riffles and cannons to steal most of their slaves? Furthermore, to believe that the greedy white invaders ( they that bloodily brutalized our Black ancestors during slavery here in the U.S.) went into Africa with weaponry advantage [of guns and cannons] but rather than maximizing their profits, they instead shown kindness, and mercy by purchasing most of their slaves is absolutely preposterous. Because such a claim totally contradicts over 500 years of demonstrated behavior by whites in regards to Black people and making profit. Nonetheless, yet through miseducation millions of these African Americans ( and even some Africans) have been brainwash to believe the perpetuated falsehood that most of their African ancestors where sold away by other native Africans. Our enemies have always manipulated facts to benefit themselves. ALWAYS!!! To further divide the minds of African Americans away from Africa white media controllers also turned Africa into a source of shame for many African Americans. Within this programming African Americans are being constantly subjected--through the white controlled media--to seeing war-torn, famine-ridden, rampantly illiterate, and disease-stricken images of Africa. They are rarely,if ever, shown the beautiful and wealthy cities in Africa. These deplorable depictions of Africa displaying only its poorest and dangerous communities are literally designed to make African Americans perceive themselves as being the lucky ones to have been taken away from the backwardness of Africa. African Americans are also being inundated with demoralizing disinformation about Africa. One example of this practice is seen in the falsehood perpetuated by whites that Africa, before the the arrival of the white invaders, was uncivilized and illiterate and therefore Africa has no written history. This is however, totally untrue. The Timbuktu University (in Mali, Africa) University and its Library are older than any of those found within the Western world. It was composed of three schools, namely the Masajid of Djinguereber, the Masajid of Sidi Yahya, and the Masajid of Sankore. During the 12th century, the university had an enrollment of around 25,000 students from Africa. In Timbuktu, there are about 700,000 surviving books. They are written in Mande, Suqi, Fulani, Timbuctu, and Sudani. The contents of the manuscripts include math, medicine, poetry, law and astronomy. This work was the first encyclopedia in the 14th century before the Europeans got the idea later in the 18th century, 4 centuries later. The false derogatory narrative that Africans were illiterate and uncivilized before the arrival of whites is a necessary propaganda that assist Europeans in maintaining their dominance over Africans. For oppressors to maintain their dominance over the oppressed they must keep the oppressed to believing that they are inferior to their oppressors. THE MINDS OF MILLIONS OF BLACK PEOPLE HAVE ALSO BEEN PROGRAMMED TO ADORE WHITENESS THROUGH CHRISTIANITY. The slave masters were not trying to save African soul's when they converted them into Christians. This is irrefutably, because they perceived it that Africans had no souls, and that heaven was for whites only. In fact many slaveowners believed that the thought of black people going to heaven was as ridiculous as a dog going to heaven. When we logically look at the fact as they were, we can say with great certainty that the white slaveowners conversion of Africans into Christians had absolutely nothing to do with saving African souls. There was is another self serving reason why these racist slaveowners put their time, and energy into teaching Christianity to a people they otherwise treated so brutally. The reason was to indoctrinate the belief of a white God into their minds. When the African slaves were taught, through Christianity, to worship a white Jesus as the messiah son of God, the logical concluded presumption was that if the son of God was white, then accordingly God, his father, is also white. The belief that God-- the greatest entity in the entire universe --is white produces a profound admiration of whiteness within the subconscious minds of Black people. This subconsciously happens without many even realizing it. This profound admiration of whiteness is then transferred-- often on a subconscious level--towards the entire white race. This made the slaves more docile, humble, and more loyal to their white masters. The effects of that brain washing scheme implemented hundreds of years ago, has been left uncorrected and un-removed for generations. It still continues upon the mind of millions of Black people today. It is the reason why you can presently visit many black churches and find its walls stubbornly adorned with pictures of only white deities. Furthermore, through Christianity million of Black people have been brainwashed to believe that all of the wrongs that whites have done to them throughout history, have been washed cleaned by the blood of a fictional white Jesus. Black people were also forced to become Christians, and then its doctrine was use to compel them to forgive whites for all the brutalities afflicted upon them by whites Christians. Note: whites never actually repented for their evil deeds committed against Black people they merely insisted that Black people, as good Christians, forgive them as their doctrine dictates. Christianity has proven itself as being history's most successful propaganda tools used for controlling Black people. THE MINDS OF BLACK PEOPLE ARE BEING PROGRAMMED TO HATE THEMSELVES AND ADORE WHITES THROUGH THE MEDIA: The white media's unrelenting negative depictions of Black people-- that amplifies the negative to the point that it distort reality-- is much more than just bias media reporting. It is actually a black racially demoralizing psychological warfare program. People are easily controlled by the information they routinely receive--especially about themselves. When people routinely receive positive affirming information about themselves this unifies and uplifts them. However, when people routinely receives negative demoralizing information about themselves, this makes them self hating, self doubting and divides them. It also makes them more compliant with their oppressor's dominance over their lives. This demoralization process is what's being done to Black people within white dominant societies. Because whites controls all black statistics, national narratives, and even how the black image is depicted with the media these factors allows white social engineering scientist to negatively control what Black people believes about themselves. More specifically this allows them to shrewdly indoctrinate self contemptuous thoughts and ideologies into the collective minds of Black populations that serves and protects the interests of their white dominant society. The basis of this concept of warfare works by affecting the subconscious minds of the Black population through demoralizing propaganda. Its weapon is the demoralizing message that it carries and the way that it adversely affects the Black population in terms of their behavior. This system is deplored like a massive media marketing campaign that constantly subjects Black people to seeing only the fraudulent worst within themselves. Within this system fraudulent black racially demoralizing information is pumped unrelentingly into the unsuspecting minds of Black populations--without being challenged or counterbalanced by an equal amount Black positive racially affirming information. With time, being unable to refute nor confirm the constant negative messages and deficiencies about themselves, the Black population grows weary by them, and will eventually comes to accept these negative assessments of themselves. The taunting unconsciously influences how the Black population perceives themselves, subsequently causing them to become embarrassed of themselves, doubting themselves, hating themselves and, eventually, fighting among themselves. This warfare works by tapping into the immense power that shame has upon the human mind. This media programming system also conveys the subliminal message that Black people are there own worst enemy and therefore needs whites to govern over their lives. Moreover, that Black people should admire, respect, and trust only Whites. This system is extremely effective because when Black people are repetitively presented narratives and statistics from trusted white sources constantly conveying the message that whites are superior, and that they (Black people) are their own worst enemies it can be very difficult to resist it's implied propaganda programming. Especially when the propaganda is being told daily and so unrelentingly. This programming turns the collective frustrations and aggressions of Black people away from their white oppressors and turns them inward towards themselves. It also makes Black people more compliant white dominance over their lives. It doesn't matter if the information presented is untrue most Black people will act upon it because they have all been given the same misinformation about themselves. Those Black people that do not think critically--and question the validity of all information being constantly fed into their minds from entirely white sources--never notices what is being done to them. This is all possible because people are like a computers, all you have to do is keep giving them certain information every so often and you can persuade an entire generation towards an implied objective. Because the ruling white elites controls all Black statistics, national narratives, and even how Black people are depicted within the media these factors allows them to easily negatively control how Black people perceive themselves. When the past blatant racist systems, used for maintaining white dominance, became no longer socially unacceptable the ruling white elites secretly implemented this much more covert method for maintaining their white dominance. It is a method better suited for modern times. This system provides the white elite with a proficient method of control over Blacks given that it isn't easily recognized nor comprehended by many of its Black victims. For unlike the past blatant racist systems that Black people were easily able to identify and therefore develop counter strategies against, this system is not easily recognized nor comprehended by many of its Black victims. This psychological warfare program works so well in fact that it not only makes Black people more compliant with white dominance over their lives, it in fact makes many even prefer it.It is at the root of both the profound division and self hatred now afflicting so many Black people and is at the heart of internalized feelings of superiority that many whites possess. "The oppressed will always believe the worse about themselves" --Franz Fanon This brainwashing of Black people is being done because there is an immense fear of Black retribution that secretly exist among those white nations that benefited historically, and continues to do so presently, through their exploitation and mistreatment of Africa and its people globally. To protect themselves from Black retribution this ideological subversion system ( favoring whites and hating themselves) was developed and secretly implemented to control the minds of Black people. The minds of some Black people have been so bombarded by fraudulent negative information about themselves that it's become literally easier for some to continue believing that there is something inherently wrong with them then to accept the truth that their the unknowing victims of an elaborate racially demoralizing Psychological Warfare system. Black people it's time to wake up and see the real world that we live in. WAKE UP! Franklin Jones- The Black Matrix LEARN MORE AT www.theblackpeoplematrix.com.

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gymnasticsfan4 · 4 years

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There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace. Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God. But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you. Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body. For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified. What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right ha

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vincewillard-1971 · 8 months

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The Spirit Of Life

Romans 8:1-39

1. There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

2. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.

3. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh:

4. That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

5. For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.

6. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.

7. Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.

8. So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.

9. But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.

10. And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.

11. But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in your.

12. Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh.

13. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.

14. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.

15. For have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba Father.

16. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

17. And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

18. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

19. For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.

20. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope,

21. Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.

22. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

23. And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

24. For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?

25. But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.

26. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intersession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

27. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intersession for the saints according to the will of God.

28. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

29. For whom he did foreknow, he also predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren.

30. Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified.

31. What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?

32. He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?

33. Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth.

34. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intersession for us.

35. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine,born nakedness, or peril, or sword?

36. As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

37. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.

38. For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

39. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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bibleread2017 · 4 years

Text

Romans chapter 8

There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.

For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh:

That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.

For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.

Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.

So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.

But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.

And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.

But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you.

Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh.

For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.

For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.

For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.

The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.

For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope,

Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.

For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?

But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.

Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren.

Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified.

What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?

He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?

Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth.

Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

#Romans chapter 8 #A chapter a day from the Bible #Jesus is Real #Pray WISDOM DISCERNMENT UNDERSTANDING and TRUTH

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funface2 · 5 years

Text

Cheers: 10 Quotes From Cliff That Are Still Hilarious Today – Screen Rant

Cheers may have been off the air for twenty-six years now, but it’s just as relevant today as it was in the 80s and early ‘90s, and no one is more hilariously relatable than Clifford C. Clavin, Jr., or Cliff, everyone’s favorite postal worker and obnoxious know-it-all barfly.

The funny thing is, Cliff wasn’t even in the original pilot for Cheers, but actor John Ratzenberger’s audition was so good that the producers on the show actually worked with him to create the character of Cliff. Thank goodness they did, too, because, otherwise, there wouldn’t be these ten hilarious quotes from Cliff that are still just as hilarious today as they were the day they were written.

RELATED: Cheers: 10 Quotes From Norm That Are Still Hilarious Today

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10 “How would the Civil War have changed if Abraham Lincoln had octopus tentacles instead of a beard?”

Number ten on this list is a question I never thought to ask ourselves: “how would the Civil War have changed if Abraham Lincoln had octopus tentacles instead of a beard?” Luckily, Cliff thought to ask the real questions, so we didn’t have to. As a historian by trade, I have to ask, how would the Civil War have changed if Abraham Lincoln had octopus tentacles instead of a beard? Would people have taken him more seriously, or less? Would they have been terrified? Would Pirates of the Caribbean be different now? So many questions, so few answers.

9 “Norm, you’ve got time to make your own coal.”

Cliff is, perhaps, best known for his hilarious zingers when his friends unwittingly set themselves up. This time, Norm’s the one accidentally asking for it when he says, “I wish I had time for a hobby,” prompting Cliff to reply, “Norm, you’ve got time to make your own coal.” According to the vast wealth of knowledge that is the Internet, we all know that it takes about 300 million years to make your own coal. Cliff is right to roast his friend, too; Norm obviously has way too much time on his hands based on how much time he spends in the bar.

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8 “Interesting little article here. It says that, uh… the average human being only uses 17% of his brain. Boy, you realize what that means? We don’t use a full, uh… 64%.”

I’ll admit, I’m just as bad at math as Cliff would probably be quick to point out I am, but even I heard this and knew that couldn’t be correct. Though I am bad enough at math that a calculator was put into use for these purposes. Sure enough, if the average human being only uses 17% of his brain, that means there’s a full 83% of his brain unused. Cliff is missing an entire 19% of his brain, which makes sense since he can’t do basic subtraction correctly, even when given the time to actually do the math out in his head. Nice try, buddy. You’re not fooling anyone.

7 “I wonder if you know that the harp is a predecessor of the modern-day guitar. Early minstrels were much larger people. In fact, they had hands the size of small dogs.”

Cliff wonders things throughout the day that anyone would wonder. After all, human beings are naturally curious, and it stands to reason that someone who spends as much time alone every day as a postal worker does would start to come up with some pretty interesting concepts.

Cliff fires off this fun fact—a musing, if you will—about harps and guitars, only going on to start talking about minstrels, as if anyone knows what he’s talking about. He just starts to spiral by the time he’s talking about their hands. Cliff really would have benefited from using Snopes, or even just from having the advantages of Google. As it is, he seems functionally illiterate.

RELATED: Cheers: The Best Episode In Every Season, Ranked

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6 “It doesn’t seem fair, does it, Norm? That I should have so much knowledge when there are people in the world that have to go to bed stupid every night?”

Cliff is worried about his buddies, that much is clear from this hilarious quote from him where he asks his buddy, “it doesn’t seem fair, does it, Norm? That I should have so much knowledge when there are people in the world that have to go to bed stupid every night?” He’s right, it isn’t fair.

There are so, so many stupid people in the world that go to bed every night without using the full 100% of their brain, just like Cliff says he does—or might, if he had been able to do that math early. Regardless, Cliff is aware that life just ain’t fair—for him more than most, it seems.

5 “That’s when you say one thing when you’re actually thinking about a mother.”

Woody with the wind-up: “What’s a Freudian Slip?,” and Cliff with the pitch: “That’s when you say one thing when you’re actually thinking about a mother.” Cliff must have been either so mortified or so proud when he said that. Knowing him, he would probably insist for years and years to come that he meant to say “a mother” rather than “another,” that he was giving an example, c’mon, guys.

Either way, is it too much to hope that Cliff doesn’t have an Oedipus complex? Was that ever something the other guys at Cheers were concerned about? Because, apparently, they should’ve been.

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4 “It’s a little known fact that cows were domesticated in Mesopotamia and were also used in China as guard animals for the forbidden city.”

Ah, Cliff and his “little known facts.” If he had a nickel for every time he told someone a “little known fact,” the man would have enough money to buy Cheers from Sam.

This time, he even starts out strong, with a fact I couldn’t disprove (mostly because I don’t know enough about the topic to speak intelligently about it): cows were domesticated in Mesopotamia. Sure, why not? Sounds good. Then, we get to the punchline: cows were also used in China as guard animals for the forbidden city. I’m picturing the cow in The Emperor’s New Groove in a helmet with a sword. Hopefully, the forbidden city wasn’t dangerous?

RELATED: 5 Reasons Why Frasier Is Better (& 5 Why Cheers Is Superior)

3 “It’s a little-known fact that the tan became popular in what is known as the Bronze Age.”

Speaking of Cliff’s “little known facts,” one of his best ones is also one of his shortest facts to date: “It’s a little-known fact that the tan became popular in what is known as the Bronze Age.” Any historian worth her salt can tell you that the Bronze Age is so-named because it was a period characterized by humanity’s usage of bronze.

Though people were working outside quite a bit and probably were rather tan, Cliff seems to be the only one who thinks that bronze is referring to the skin of the people alive during the time period. Also, the Bronze Age is characterized by cultures beginning to develop the first systems of writing, one of which was the cuneiform script of Mesopotamia, which begs the question: why does Cliff know so many random almost-facts about Mesopotamia?

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2 “There’s no rule against postal workers not dating women. It just works out that way.”

Oof. You hate to see it. Sometimes, people say things so blissfully ignorant you can’t help but laugh at them. To quote Diane, “if ignorance is bliss, this is Eden.” Poor Cliff doesn’t even realize that there doesn’t need to be a rule against postal workers not dating women because women don’t seem to ever want to date them—or, at least, they don’t want to date Cliff.

Interesting that Cliff specifies women, though; do the postal workers only employ gay men? Are there female postal workers? Do they have to be straight women? Once again, one of Cliff’s hilarious quotes only asks more questions than it answers. The question at the top of the list, though, remains the same: is Cliff okay?

1 “You wanna see dark sides, you oughta see Ma when you leave the shower curtain outside the tub.”

The question at the top of the list now has an answer: no! No, Cliff is not okay; clearly, that Oedipus complex we were worried about earlier has come back around to haunt us. Cliff doesn’t want to talk about his own dark side, nor does he want to try a reference to Star Wars; instead, Cliff decides to return to the subject of his mother, and how controlling and feral she seems to be. The same woman who gave her son the Freudian slip also, apparently, lashes out when water drips onto her bathroom floor.

Makes sense, though, that the number one quote from Cliff would be something both hilarious and chillingly haunting. For so many of us, Cliff Clavin is simply timeless.

NEXT: The Big Bant Theory: 10 Hilarious Amy Memes That Will Make You Say “Bazinga!”

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Bài viết Cheers: 10 Quotes From Cliff That Are Still Hilarious Today – Screen Rant đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

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dfroza · 5 years

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To Love

even to Love those we don’t come into agreement with, is a beautiful thing.

with such a point made in an email received Today about the controversial topic of LGBT and its drive for equal rights in the diverse world in which we live. some equate it with the necessity of civil rights and the need of abolishing racism and in the past, human slavery. although some argue otherwise based on convictions of their personal faith. and so obviously there are people who don’t agree with each other, and yet it still matters how we treat each other. it matters to be patient & kind.

from the email:

According to Jesus, the second greatest commandment is to love our neighbor as ourselves.— Becket Cook

WWJD-LGBT

by Becket Cook, from A Change of Affection

What is the best way, as a Christian, to engage with a gay friend or family member? Well, it’s not easy. But as someone who’s been on both sides of this issue, my perspective is fairly unique.

On Sunday, September 20, 2009, I walked into an evangelical church in Hollywood called Reality LA as a self-proclaimed atheist and a gay man; two hours later I walked out a born-again Christian who no longer identified as gay. The power of the gospel utterly transformed me during that service. I now live as a single, celibate man. I am happy to deny myself and take up my cross and follow Jesus, because He’s infinitely worth it!

Let’s start by asking the obvious question: What would Jesus do with regards to those in the LGBT community? Would He distance himself from them? Would He refuse to interact with them? Would He look at them as a lost cause and move on? Would He protest gay pride parades? Would He hold up signs with condemning slogans scrawled across them? Would He reject them?

Quite the opposite.

In the Synoptic Gospels, we see Jesus dining with “sinners and tax collectors.” This was incredibly counter-cultural. Instead of acting like the religious folks of His day, He deigned to dine with “those people.” This unexpected action mortified and mystified the religious class. They were downright indignant. In His typical fashion, Jesus schools them:

I came not to call the righteous, but sinners. — Mark 2:17

Jesus focused on individuals, not groups (the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, for example). He was after people’s hearts, hence His deeply personal approach to those whom He encountered.

Of course, Jesus never compromised the truth.

Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. — Luke 13:3

But Jesus was the master of balancing grace with truth. He does this perfectly throughout the Gospels.

My sister-in-law, Kim, was a natural at this. For me, she was a great example of how a Christian should respond to this issue. She has been a strong believer since early in her childhood. I met her when I was in high school, and she started dating my older brother, Greg. She and I always had a special bond; we enjoyed chatting and hanging out with each other. Years later, after I came out as gay to my whole family, my relationship with Kim remained the same, even though she was what I would have called a Bible-thumping, evangelical Christian. I knew that she knew that I knew that she believed homosexuality was a sin, but I never felt an ounce of condemnation from her. She never sat me down to explain to me that I was sinning. She never quoted Bible verses to me. She never judged me for my lifestyle. Instead, she did something far more dangerous: she prayed... for twenty years!

Over the years, while living in Los Angeles, I would go back to Dallas (my hometown) for Christmas. One of the highlights of my visits was getting together with Kim at the nearest coffee shop. We would chat for hours. I would talk about guys; she would talk about God. She was genuinely interested in my life, and never once said to me, “You know, you’re still sinning.” She was very open about her faith and would talk about what God was doing in her life. But this didn’t bother me, because I sensed an unconditional love from her. Her love for me didn’t increase or decrease based on whether or not I was in a relationship with a guy at that particular moment. In other words, she didn’t withhold love from me because of the way I lived my life.

She did two key things throughout the years: she loved me unconditionally and prayed for me without ceasing. That’s it. And it worked!

I was recently invited to a small dinner party at an incredibly beautiful home in Malibu. A friend from church was a work colleague with the owner, who was a gay man. Much to my friend’s and my surprise, the owner wanted to hear more about Christianity. He was curious as to why two gay guys would give up that life to follow Christ. Of course, we were more than happy to have this opportunity to share the Gospel with this group of relatively hardened skeptics, both gay and straight. The only problem was that our gracious host had failed to mention to his friends that two evangelical Christians, who had both been saved out of the homosexual life, were the guests of honor!

When, immediately after the first course was served, our host turned to me and asked if I would share my story with everyone at the table, I almost choked on my fennel salad. But as I was detailing the story of my conversion, I saw a look of genuine interest on the faces of the listeners; that is, until one of them asked the $64,000 question: “What about your sexuality?” As I addressed that issue, there was a sudden shift in the room. The mood quickly changed from polite interest to semi-hostile disgust. I tried my best to explain why homosexual behavior was incompatible with Christianity, when suddenly the discussion at the table became very animated. Various guests were chiming in with their own views, not only on this incendiary subject but on “spirituality” in general.

After our second course, the conversation started to become heated. So much so that at one point, when I felt like it was getting out of hand, I stopped everyone and said: “Guys, guys. I just want you all to know that the only reason I drove an hour out to Malibu on a school night during midterms (I was in seminary at the time) is because I love you! That’s it. I’m not here to win an argument. I’m here because I love you. Period.” Everyone was taken aback by this unexpected expression of my motives. A few of them seemed dumbstruck. The temperature in the room instantly dropped, bonhomie was quickly restored, and the evening ended on a good note. We didn’t experience a mass conversion that evening, but I was thankful for the opportunity to share what God has done in my life. Seeds were planted.

According to Jesus, the second greatest commandment is to love our neighbor as ourselves.

We know what happened when the lawyer was foolish enough to put Jesus to the test by asking who his neighbor was. After telling the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus asks the lawyer which man in the parable proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among robbers. The lawyer responds,

The one who showed him mercy.

Jesus told him to go and do likewise (Luke 10:25-37).

Let us also do likewise. Get a coffee or share a meal with a gay family member or friend. Love him or her without condemning. This could make all the difference in the world. I think Billy Graham put it best when he famously said, “It is the Holy Spirit's job to convict, God's job to judge, and my job to love.”

Written for Devotionals Daily by Becket Cook, author of A Change in Affection.

* * *

Your Turn

As believers in Jesus, we are called to love. Plain and simple. God’s in charge of convicting and changing others, not us. Who needs your love today? Who can you impact for the Kingdom of God just by loving them unconditionally right where they are… and praying for them? Come share with us on our blog! We want to hear from you! ~ Devotionals Daily

* * *

The powerful, dramatic story of how a successful Hollywood set designer whose identity was deeply rooted in his homosexuality came to be suddenly and utterly transformed by the power of the gospel.

When Becket Cook moved from Dallas to Los Angeles after college, he discovered a socially progressive, liberal town that embraced not only his creative side but also his homosexuality. He devoted his time to growing his career as a successful set designer and to finding "the one" man who would fill his heart. His life centered around celebrity-filled Hollywood parties and he traveled to society hot-spots around the world--until a chance encounter with a pastor at an LA coffee shop one morning changed everything.

In A Change of Affection, Becket Cook shares his testimony as someone who was transformed by the power of the gospel. His dramatic conversion to Christianity and subsequent seminary training inform his views on homosexuality--personally, biblically, theologically, and culturally--and his compelling book guides readers through this complex and controversial issue while revealing how to lovingly engage with those who disagree.

Provocative, genuine, and deeply faithful, A Change of Affection is a timely and indispensable resource for anyone who desires to understand more fully one of the most common and difficult stumbling blocks to faithfully following Christ today.

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