#found family group hugging in a burning house... the poetry of it all

[happi-tree]

you are enough just as you are. it's gonna be o.k. it's gonna be o.k.

[thatssokatsuki]

Something There || Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Beauty and The Beast Chapter 7

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x f!Reader (crush phase) Summary: Your class meets up at the mall, and have a very interesting encounter with the normally loud boy in the bookstore. Warnings: Slow burn, fluff Word Count: 1,193

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Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch.10

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A few more days pass, and you found yourself truly seeing the ash blonde boy in a new light. Didn’t help that he had starting treating you a bit.. softer, although you were too oblivious to notice. The bakusquad, however, were very aware of the small glances you both would throw eachother during training and hangout sessions. From that point on, he walked you home everytime they would hang out anywhere that wasn’t your house, the Bakusquad had joined the Dekusquad on the trek to the train station after school, Hell he would even bring you your drink when you all went to a cafe. He still was vulgar and violent, but with you, it was different. 

Both oblivious to the others feelings, the mutual pining was enough for everyone to eventually figure out what was happening, and there were nudges to you both from both sides. One day, while at the mall, the previously almost unthinkable happened. The girls and the boys had pretty much split up, being drawn to wildly different stores. The boys, for the most part, checked out things like sneaker stores and workout/sports stores, whereas the girls pulled you along to look at various clothes. You bought a couple outfits with them, but eventually managed to sneak off to go to the bookstore. Bakugo, who happened to be exiting a store nearby, happened to notice, and when the boys weren’t looking he too slipped away. You had a habit of going off on your own, which had made all of your friends uneasy due to current events. He eventually caught up with you on your way there, startling you. This was the first real time you were actually alone together for more than 5-10 minutes, so neither of you were really sure what to do. He kind of just followed you around, and sometimes made comments about the books you were grabbing, and judged if you grabbed a book he read and didn’t think was any good. Turns out he was quite the reader, to your surprise. Eventually with a small stack full of books, you turned towards the classics section, seeing if they had any of the books that had become your favorites when you were growing up. 

Your eyes fall upon a particular book, causing you to place your small stack of books on the shelf and admire the cover of the one you had just picked up. Bakugo takes this moment to take in how beautiful you looked, and how the look of.. admiration had made its way onto your face as you gently ran your hand across the beautiful gold gilding that had appeared to dance along the cover as the light reflected off of it. "Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind..." you had started to softly say to yourself.  "... and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." Bakugo finishes, pausing right before he spoke. This caused you to look up at him in a way he had never seen before. You stated with a small smile that you didn’t know he had read Shakespeare, and he responded that the poetry of old english had always captured his attention. Your eyes skimmed the shelf again, looking for another particular play. As you find it, you state that its your favorite one, and take a moment to admire the cover on this book as well. The title had said Romeo and Juliet, in fancy written letters branded in the same gold that adorned the Midsummer Night’s Dream you were holding just a moment prior. “I’m not surprised, with all the heartache and the pining and the-” he said, in a teasing tone with a roll of his eyes. You giggled to yourself and looked up at him, “and thats a problem because....?” “Theres just,, so many better things to read, y/n.” He looks back at you, unknowingly smiling. “Like what?” You ponder, returning the smile he had given you. 

He picks up your books in one hand, and grabs the hand closest to him with the other, leading you to the isle right next to the one you were in. He places the books down on the shelf again and steadies them, still not letting go of you. He reaches out and grabs a book. “....Guinevere and Lancelot...” You state, again feeling the need to trace your fingers across the beautifully adorned cover. “Actually, King Arthur and the Knights of the round table. Y’know,  knights and men and swords and things...” He says, a bit sheepishly, pink flooding his cheeks as he looks at you, glad that you’re so enamored with the book hes holding. “It’s also a daring love story of two people who were meant to be, but were stricken with circumstances that made their love difficult to foster, but all the more rewarding. Romeo and Juliet... but instead of two families, its one person preventing the two from being together openly.” You say, not phased by his need to make it sound ‘manlier’ than it actually was. Neither of you made a move to pull your hands apart, either, as if neither of you had noticed they were still intertwined. However, the feeling of warmth would soon leave, as you ended up grabbing your books with both hands, having him place the book he was holding atop it. At first he had tried to grab them from you so he could carry them, but you laughed and shook your head, gliding past him and towards the register. He followed behind you, almost like a lost puppy. 

Eventually you both rejoined the group, and you all went home. The sheer amount of people, however, caused you both to sit separately on the train home. With that being said, he was both relieved and upset by that. He wanted to be next to you again, and to feel the warmth of your hand against his. Most of you had gotten off on the same stop, him so he could help you carry your small amount of bags. You tried to stop him at first, knowing how far away his house actually was, but he was determined to make sure you got home safe. You hugged all of your friends as you each split off, and the walk to your door was silent, although it was a comfortable silence. Once you’re both standing on your doorstep, you open your door and place the bags inside before turning back to him. You step forward and hug him for the first time, and hes caught off-guard long enough for you to pull away before he can hug you back. “Thank you...for today. I had a lot of fun..” you said, shyly despite the confidence you glowed in earlier. He nodded his head as he looked away. “Anyways, text me when you get home so I know you made it there safely..” He looked at you, and gave you a firm nod that time,, saying that he’ll be fine no-matter what, but if it helps you sleep better at night. You smiled at him once more before turning around and entering your home, locking the door behind you. 

[chaps-in-the-library]

Ghosts OC (because absolutely no one asked)

Here we go, y'all. She's less of an OC and more of an idea I had but LET'S GO.

Name: Rosie Burnham

Date of birth: September 13th, 1946

Date of death: July 27th, 1969

Age when they died: 22

Cause of death: Accidental drug overdose

Are they in the Button House, or a different location?: Button House, only because I'm unimaginative.

What are their thoughts on:

Pat: Rosie considers him potentially her closest friend of the ghosts. She was watching from the house on the day that he died, and since then they've formed this sort of emotional bond. They both died from accidental circumstances, and both occasionally discuss how unfair it feels that they died so young. Mostly, though, they talk about camping and music.

Thomas: After his initial attempts to "woo" her when she first became a ghost, Rosie considered him relatively harmless. She often teases him about his love for Alison, and refuses to admit that she does actually enjoy a lot of his poetry.

Fanny: Of course, dying from a drug overdose in the psychedelic movement of the 60s isn't exactly the most "ladylike" way to die, so for a long while Fanny refused to communicate with her. She falls victim to the occasional comment from Fanny, but for the most part Rosie doesn't really talk to her unless necessary.

The Captain: Rosie's relationship with the Captain is complicated. Technically, he is her non-biological uncle; the partner of her father's brother. However, of course, much of the family believed that they were only close friends who were "separated by the war". Rosie, through tracing family photographs and finding stashed letters and postcards, discovered that this was not the full story. Despite this, she hasn't told the Captain about what she knows. Instead, she just listens intently as he gives orders, and occasionally helps to plead his case.

Kitty: After a few suggestive jokes and comments from Julian, Rosie has received constant pestering from Kitty about "how babies are made". Despite the odd unanswerable question such as that, she finds Kitty very endearing and enjoys giggling about boys with her if she requires it.

Robin: Rosie quickly discovered that Robin would take the most getting used to; his jumbled speech pattern and erratic movements made her somewhat afraid. After a few rounds of chess (which she lost horribly at) and a few failed attempts at flickering the lights, she eventually found him to be quite kind-hearted.

Mary: Rosie has always been a little cautious of Mary, for the simple fact that she scares her. As a child of the feminist movement, Rosie has often tried to educate her on the women's rights movements, to which she'd always interrupt with "but that be witchcraft!" or "she be burned for that!"

Julian: To put it simply, Rosie found Tories insufferable at the best of times. Julian, however, had a strange aura about him that Rosie found rather humorous. Maybe it was the raunchy jokes that appealed to her sense of humour, or the lack of self awareness as he ranted about his legacy. Or, most likely, it was the fact he wasn't wearing any trousers. Regardless, she finds him "tolerable".

Humphrey: Despite a few occasions of her picking up his head and passing it to his body, Rosie hasn't had a proper conversation with Humphrey.

The Plague Ghosts: Rosie would often find herself hiding in the basement if she needed an unbiased person (or rather, group of people) to vent to. Despite being 1600s plague ghosts, she finds them surprising wise and philosophical.

Jemima: Rosie has only ever encountered her once or twice when talking to the plague ghosts in the basement, and is usually too scared of her to form a proper opinion.

Do they have any special ghost powers?: None, although she jokes that it would be funny if people had a mild psychedelic moment as passed through her.

If they could be seen by a living human, what would their response be?: The human usually wouldn't really bat an eyelid due to her relatively normal attire. However, much like a bug or a small animal, Rosie is much more scared of them than they are of her.

What do they look like?

Light blonde hair; rather unruly and wavy with a flower hair pin pinning some strands out of her face.

Thin face with wide blue eyes. (She often describes herself as having a "deer-in-the-headlights" sort of look about her naturally)

Rather tall, in 60's festival-style clothes, looking slightly messy and somewhat torn. Boots to match.

Full face of makeup, with coloured eyeshadow and eyeliner and all. Nail polish of all colours.

Other headcanons:

She often gets a little sensitive if asked about her death, usually writing it off as "going too crazy at a party"; the real truth is she was accidentally drugged by a close friend who didn't know what they were taking. Her friend had convinced her to try it with her, it turned out to be laced, and she was declared dead by an ambulance crew as they escorted her friend to hospital. She's only ever told Pat, who didn't know what to say before commenting "if we were still alive, I'd hug you so much right now."

Similar to the previous point, on her birthday and every Christmas she watches as her family come to place flowers at the field just across from the Button House; the place her body was found. It's the only two days where she'd really, truly prefer to be alone.

On a more positive note, she can sing rather well. She's been trying to teach Kitty to sing, with little success; she is partially the reason she can't STOP singing.

On the moral alignment chart, although she likes to brag that she is Chaotic Good, she's actually Lawful Good.

She considers herself bisexual, but only ever discovered the proper term for it after Julian briefly joked about it a few months after his death.

So there you have it. There's my little Rosie. Hope you like her, y'all. <3

[kizardofkoz]

Muscle

It was a little over a year ago and we were visiting with our best friends over Labor Day weekend. I was still in my first year of new baby, knee deep in first-year-baby-love and my all too familiar struggle of *bouncing back* (which has Never been my actual experience. It’s more like a slow rolling on the ground mixed with some crying, disgust, guilt, disgust at my guilt and guilty about my disgust, very slow muscle gain and trying to figure out how many WW points are in the scones I just made - because friends, I make a mean scone) and I was just feeling so irritated with where I was compared to where I wanted to be. Our friends looked so lean, healthy, toned -and I? 

I was jealous. 

I felt soft and annoyed. While I was grateful that I carried a baby for the fourth time, I was So. Over. Losing. *The Baby Weight*.

They said the only real change they had made in their lifestyle was that they had been running. (They also only have half as many children and are in a different life stage with their ages, but we’re focusing on the health portion here.)

And so.

I began running. 

100% it was born out of a competitive desire to look and feel better and become a runner. But I actually found a part of me that I lost during quarantine, and the several year pattern of having and raising baby boys. 

I would leave my house for 30-60 minutes, put on a podcast that scared me (it was early fall when this love affair really began to take hold and I would listen to Spooked! - holy crap, it is absolutely terrifying. So I would throw in some true crime, just to shake up my amygdala) and as the weather started to cool and leaves started to turn, I found my alone time, running the streets of my neighborhood. 

And it was good. 

Necessary. 

Healing.

_______________________________________________________________________

I have had an interesting relationship with running and fitness my entire life. Exercise, up until this past year probably, was usually a punishment. A method to burn off the calories that I so painfully counted and tried to delete one way or another. (For several years -junior year of high school through sophomore year of college- that would involve sticking a finger down my throat, which is not a unique story for a teenage, American girl, yet it still feels quite vulnerable as I have never publicly mentioned it, like on this blog that has hundreds of thousands of followers. ;) I grew up sitting on a piano bench. I was never a super athletic kid (and was often told that) and things like running, and sports and physical coordination seemed like another realm that I would never know. So I would admire all of the athletic kids that looked so sinewy and strong and natural, and I would feel embarrassed and frustrated that God gave me the body that I had. I was grateful for my artsy, musical abilities, but in this culture, as a young woman especially, there is no greater skill or attribute, then to be small, smooth, and beautiful. 

I am still trying to figure out how to undo parts of this thinking. 

Stretched skin, years of confidence building, therapy and relearning that food is actually really delicious (who knew!) has helped tremendously. I wish I could hug younger me. 

But she had to learn this on her own. 

In her own way. 

In her own time.

So at this time, as a matured 37 year old, I went into running differently. I would leave my house and find new paths that had more gradual hills because you don’t realize how hilly your neighborhood is until you try to run. Or ride a bike. Or in my case, walk a bike up a hill.

But I would also allow myself to slow down. To walk. For the first time in my life I listened to my body, and if she was tired, I walked. If she couldn’t breathe, I slowed down to catch my breath. And it changed everything. I built strength and avoided injury. I looked forward to my next run because I wasn’t too sore, and because once I had quit using running as a method of torture it actually started to become quite rewarding.  My soul needed the exercise as much as my muscles.

Minus all of the true crime and ghost stories, it was kind of like prayer at times. Or some really bizarre, spooky therapy.

_______________________________________________________________________

Three weeks ago I had the absolute honor and life blessing of being able to attend a women’s retreat in Estes Park, CO. I flew there early on a Thursday morning to meet up with 20 women who I had never met to reconnect with a God that I was missing dearly and to find myself again.

Oh my gosh. 

I can’t even explain the exact magic of that weekend and I actually won’t give away too  many details because part of the retreats’ (there are two: a mens ones and they just began a women’s one last year) magic is the slight, secret-society-ish-ness of it, so a previous group won’t ruin the experience for those that follow. 

But I felt so taken care of and loved. I have not had the time and space to release and let go the way I was able to. In years. Every meal was prepared and cleaned by a woman named Jess. Every activity was thoughtfully planned yet not overbooked. I didn’t have to make a decision, make  breakfast or make a to-do list. My nervous system settled and my brain was clearer than I feel it has been in my adult life.

And my heart. 

I didn’t realize how lethargic I had become in my own faith. Of course I love God and Jesus and my faith is the most important thing to me, but was I actively doing anything to strengthen and encourage it? Negative. 

And this is where muscle comes in. 

I have been running and conditioning my body over the past year to run miles, to handle hills, build my stamina and improve my pace. I have put in the work and time and my body is stronger. Muscle memory.

In Estes, I feel like I just went through a spiritual bootcamp. I received a megadose injection of peace, love, refinement, depth, stillness and Jesus. I can either keep going and try to maintain and strengthen this muscle, or I can become apathetic, put it off for tomorrow, make excuses that were never meant to be excuses and just not prioritize this thing that I claim is the most important thing to me.

Guys. (And gals!)

I did it.

I’m doing it.

I am actually carving out time each day (mostly) and I am keeping a prayer journal and reading from a devotional (I go between Shauna Neiquest’s “Savor”  - thank you Meredith Hopping and Sarah Young’s “Jesus Calling”, thank you Mom), and I am Reading My Bible. (I’m a Message girl, which should not be surprising at all. The Poetry and FEELINGS!) And I am actually WANTING to read the bible. Like, I am finding it interesting and I actually kind of look forward to reading it the next day because I want to know what happens and not “I am reading this because I am Supposed to and because I have promised God since I was a child that I would read the whole thing and there’s no time like at age 37 to make good on a promise to Jehovah that I made as a 6 year old. That makes sense.”

I say all of these words NOT TO BRAG AT ALL BECAUSE NO NOPE NOPE NO NO, but to hopefully encourage others out there. (PS, I’m reading 1 Kings - if you’re Trump, that would be “One Kings”, I’m also praying for compassion and less judgment from myself. And that was the most compassionate way I could say that.:) I realized that just like with exercise, I often felt that if I didn’t have enough time to really sit down and read chapters of the bible, or have 10-15 minutes for a deep, thoughtful prayer, then it wasn’t worth giving God any time at all. I was being a perfectionist with my faith life and refused to not partake if it couldn’t be what I thought it would be. Or should be. 

And I don’t really think God, in the end, gives a shit. 

I think God wants any and all. God will take a 10 second, or 3 minutes or half hour long prayer. As long as it is authentic and humble and vulnerable because I think that is what God works with best and how we can refine and mature the most. I also think intentional longer prayers that include time to pause and listen (especially with the terrifying, faith building fear of But what if God doesn’t answer).  God and I have always chatted throughout the day, but overall, I realized that I was getting in my own way with some twisted perfectionism, when all God wants is my truest, most imperfect self.

Along with this, I have also been much more gentle with myself. I skipped a day the other day. (And yesterday!) And this is okay. I wasn’t able to get it in and instead of shaming myself and feeling guilty, negative and embarrassed, I gave myself love. I let myself  walk instead of run because there are busy days and hills and we aren’t made to run and dominate every single one of them every single time. 

 It is also important to note that I spent much of this weekend eating chips and birthday cake as it was our eldest’s first sleepover party. I stepped on the scale this morning and it was 2-3 pounds higher than it normally is. And you know what? I am actually okay. I am probably the most okay I have ever been in this situation and I am absolutely floored and comforted that I know God sees me and knows what I need. I know that in time I will get back to where I was, not with punishment but with mindfulness. And to stop eating the cake (it was so good though). And maybe ease off of the chips. 

And to joyfully run.

God’s grace is so wild, and beautiful, and abundant. 

I think I grew up with a bit of a childish, lopsided idea of God. I don’t know if it was my education, my church, my family or my own absorption and interpretation, but for a very, very long time I knew God was loving, but I also knew God was wrathful, jealous, vengeful and judgmental. After years of growth and exposing myself to other theologies, biblical philosophies, and finding my own spiritual and path, I have rediscovered Jesus and God in a whole new way. I have been reminded of, or relearned, God’s tenderness. 

God’s Gentleness. 

God’s Compassion. 

And I truly think if we could remember these qualities first, and also use these qualities first as Christians - to one another, to ourselves, and to *gasp* non-Christians - the world would literally be a different place.

So. 

I am going to continue building these muscles. I have worked really, really hard to get to where I am physically and I am really, really proud of it. I can run and keep up with my children, I have no idea what I could bench or deadlift but I can pick up our enormous <99% 1 year old multiple times each day and I feel like that in and of itself could be a really popular WOD. “The Kepler”: pick up 35 pounds 50 times and run across the house between each set of five. Then halfway through you change the laundry over as fast as you can and at the very end you realize you forgot to push start on the dryer. 

Repeat as necessary.

And I am going to continue building my spiritual muscle. This looks like prayer time, bible reading, (I even installed a wall light so I can read in this special spot because we know that special spots are really important to Jesus.) and prioritizing this priority to me. 

And this also looks like tenderness. 

Gentleness. 

Compassion. 

Because even God knows we need a sabbath and sometimes the body just needs to rest. 

The soul, too. 

And I am learning to be gentle with myself. To love me and give grace to me even when I skip a day. 

At least spiritually. 

Because physically, I am still doing “The Kepler” daily. 

Even more exhausting because my warm-up is “The Wyndsor”.

The charcuterie board that puts all other charcuterie boards to shame. Jess, a pilates instructor with a gift of hospitality, healthy cooking and presentation made us the most beautiful meals. And coffee. And wine. And pop corn. And fudge. I miss Jess.

I know what you’re thinking - *Now I see why they have 4 boys!* BECAUSE I LOOK SO DAMN GOOD IN OVERALLS!!

Just 20 something of my new dearest friends. I can’t wait to see them again next fall. So I can start crying every six sentences and zen out in all of God’s natural beauty coming through the landscape, the carved out time and the stories each of these women are carrying. Ready to drink around a fire with all of you again. I will try to stay up later this time. Maybe. (Who have I become??!) #Revel2021

[thevioletcaptain]

13.01 - Lost and Found

THE VERDICT

The placeholder text I put under this subheading before writing up the rest was just “fdhglahdfghdfg” and after watching the episode again I honestly feel like that sums it up. Main takeaways: Jack is wearing a lampshade and everything hurts.

Thanks, Dabb. You glorious goddamn monster.

A play-by-play recap with meta-adjacent notes is under the cut!

ALL THE THINGS

THE ROAD SO FAR!

Approximately 0.5 seconds into the Road So Far sequence, I shrieked because holy shit that’s Metallica. 

Yeah, they used this song in the video for SDCC, but I had not anticipated it being THE SONG. Every year, at the beginning of the season, the song used in this sequence lays out the thematic content of the episodes to come. Last year, I wrote down a few key themes that were suggested during this sequence, and they all ended up being super relevant. So. I’ll take a closer look at Nothing Else Matters in a separate post (mostly just because this is already a week late, and I need to get it done already) but the basic themes based on the song this time? Basically, it looks like honesty, trust, choice, and love. There’s nuance there, of course, but I’ll have to dig into it at another time.

The fact that Sam and Eileen’s hug is paired with Dean and Cas’ hug, is… um. Interesting. Especially considering that it is separate from the “look at all the family moments” montage that comes after.

The lyric “I never opened myself this way” is sung as we see Dean stripped of his memories, and then being brutally honest with Mary. Ooooof. Yes. Pain.

Anyway, Cas is dead, Mary is stuck with the garbage man in the thunderdome, Jack exists, and everything is awful! :D

NOW!

Jack really does look a lot like Cas. Back when 12.23 aired, in the moments of utter wtf-ery that followed seeing Cas get shanked, when Sam entered the room and found him sitting there in shadow, I remember yelling in group chat “WAIT WHAT DID THE NEPHILIM TAKE CAS’ FORM?????” or something to that effect. Alexander Calvert really does bear a striking resemblance to Misha. No wonder he’s adorable.

Right now, though? Look at those glowy angel eyes and listen to the sinister music! It’s time for some inaccurate snap judgements!

“Father?” Oh, honey, no.

That must have hit Sam in a suuuuper uncomfortable way, considering that he was Lucifer’s vessel :(

OH NO OH FUCK

THERE’S DEAN STILL KNEELING BY CAS’ SIDE

AND THE WINGS

JESUS

I know it’s only been a couple of minutes that Sam has been inside the house, but… man. Dean has to be completely checked out to have let Sam run into what they are assuming is a super dangerous situation. The fact that he’s still sitting there for any amount of time after Sam ran into the house… this is a lot.

Even when he does remember that Sam needs backup, his face is still slack. He’s completely hollowed out.

Mannnn, it hurts to see Cas like this

Like… a fucking lot.

This shot of Jack, half his body bathed in light, the other half in shadow. SYMBOLISM.

YIKES, DEAN

DOUBLE YIKES, JACK

Check out that flaming iris title card! With an inverted cross for a T!

Those enochian knuckle dusters remain the absolute coolest weapon ever introduced on this show

I can’t believe we were robbed of seeing Mary punch Lucifer in the face again… and all we got was this stupid t-shirt Mom burning on the ceiling.

#StillTooSoon

(I’m making jokes because I’m in a considerable amount of pain)

That’s quite a horrible nightmare Dean is having and it would sure be nice if he’d be able to wake up to something a lot less horrible

At least Mary didn’t really spontaneously combust this time?

Silver lining?

The fact that Jack is so pointedly naked is another tick in the “blank slate” column

“Salty Butt Combo” is poetry

Also, I hate that this goddamn show has used so many sneaky references and subtextual things over the years that I’m literally sitting here like “but what could all the butts signify???”

Clark being fired seven times but repeatedly re-hired because his manager is dating his mom is… it made me think of Cas being killed again and again but always coming back. This is an incomplete thought.

This is some excellent nudity cover up framing

“…….how naked?”

“Can we just talk about what happened back there?” “Sure, which part? Let’s see—Crowley’s dead. Kelly’s dead. Cas is—“

(pause for Dean to pull himself together)

(extra pause for me to pull myself together)

“—Mom’s gone. And apparently the devil’s kid his puberty in thirty seconds flat.”

The fact that he can’t even say out loud that Cas is dead will haunt me for all time. And look at him. LOOK AT HIM:

Also, we should discuss that in the space of one night, the Impala (Dean’s soul) is COVERED in dirt and dust.

“What about Cas? Is he— is he really dead?” “You know he is.” 

GOD Sam is so hopeful, he sounds like a little kid. And look at Dean fighting off an imminent breakdown

I’m verklempt already

Sheriff Barker is adorable.

Jack, honey… quick human lesson: when you’re not wearing pants, the staring and smiling comes off ten times more creepy

I will forever feel robbed of seeing them carry Cas inside the house, but filming that would have been a nightmare

I am glad to see that they brought him inside before they went to find Jack, though

This is super upsetting

“Is that…” “Castiel. I always knew he’d meet a bad end.” “He deserved better.” “No, he really didn’t.”

FIGHT ME, random angel

Other random angel has a suspicious smirk when the angel I’m fighting walks away, and I didn’t notice it on my first two viewings of this episode.

LOOK AT THIS PRECIOUS BABY

“By the way? There’s no such thing as weird. Everyone’s normal in their own way.”

SHERIFF BARKER, YOU LOVELY WOMAN

Jack’s cobbled-together lost and found outfit is VERY IMPORTANT

So important, in fact, that the episode title is a lampshade hanging on the Sheriff’s line about it. 

Jack has elements of both of his “fathers” represented in that outfit—the “mess with the devil, you get the horns” t-shirt is obviously representative of Lucifer, and the colour of the jacket is reminiscent of Castiel’s trench.

Of course, both are just things he’s put on, and are not HIM. He’s his own person—the blank slate. While he may inherit things from his biological father or from his chosen father, he’s not either of them. UGH this show.

“My mother… she’s in heaven. My father… he was supposed to be here, but he’s not. I’m trying to find him. I have to find him.”

“Is there anything you do remember, Jack?” “I remember when the bad woman burned.”

Clark’s face is slaying me

Jack licking the ink from his thumb reminds me of this short novel by David Malouf called An Imaginary Life, and that’s probably just a coincidence because I don’t think this writer is widely known outside Australia (and not super well known here, either, outside of queer lit nerds) but it’s in my head now, so… I’m going to have to re-read it.

“What are you on?” “I’m on a chair. On the floor. On the planet Earth.” :D

Even if Dean doesn’t think that it’s super likely for Jack to be in Pirate Pete’s, the fact that he’s letting Sam out of his sight again… it was worrisome the first time I watched this, because I figured it was just because he’s given up so completely that he can’t muster the energy to even back Sam up. Knowing what he’s actually about to do, though? That’s less worrisome and more telling. His prayer to Chuck is private. He knows he’s going to lose it if he starts praying, and he doesn’t want Sam to see him break.

“I’m gonna call Jody, check in, see if she can’t help us put a nation-wide APB on a creepy Satanic nudist.”

Dean, you pronounced “adorable” wrong, but I’ll let it slide on account of the grief

“I’m looking for a guy… About your height… naked.” “You and me both, sister.”

Oh, drunk fries lady… you’re making Sam uncomfortable :D

There sure are a lot of lingering shots on things to remind us that we’re still in North Cove

WHAT DO ALL THE BUTTS MEAN?

Dammit, Dabb. I can never tell if something is meaningful or if it’s just your weirdo humor.

Luckily I love me some Dabb, so it’s only a minor annoyance.

But still.

(BUTT still)

That’s… a rather unusual fingerprint. Also—look how half is black and half is white. Like the shadows before! And his half Lucifer-style, half Cas-style clothes! Duality! Choices!

…is that a ship horn blaring as Dean walks back from punching a wall during his desperate prayer? Cool. That’s fine.

Drunk Fries Lady is WRITING ‘’BITCH’’ IN THE DUST ON THE WINDOW OF THE IMPALA

AND DEAN

IS SAYING

NOTHING

I’m fine this is fine

I never actually saw Frozen, so I’ll leave the actual analysis of this whole “Roommate Becky” thing to someone who has seen the movie she was so obsessed with. But! The internet tells me that its central themes are self-acceptance, family, and isolation, with a big ol’ heap of queer subtext to boot. So that’s… interesting, considering.

“What’d you do to your hand?” “Don’t ask. He’s super sensitive.” pffft

RUH ROH, FLICKERING LIGHTS

This is an excellent bait and switch

Making us think Jack is in there eating Clark’s skin or something

When he’s actually THE MOST ADORABLE DOOF IN THE WORLD

Did I mention lately that I love Jack? No? Well, I love him.

Clark’s entire demeanour here? This is the moment I decided that I 100% wanted him to come back and be Jack’s best friend forever.

ANGEL RADIO IS PLAYING A TERRIBLE SONG

This sequence with Jack is a combination of two of Castiel’s “firsts”—the raining sparks are reminiscent of Castiel’s arrival in the barn in 4.01, and the blasting angel radio making him spin out is like what he heard when he became human in 9.01

Dean’s complete and utter lack of fucks to give is wounding me

He’s not even bothering to come up with a story. Just flat out “we hunt monsters” “angels are real”

I mean, Sheriff Barker is obviously receptive to the notion considering what she’s witnessed herself, but he’s just… he doesn’t care. He’s so done.

“He’s half human, and half angel. Angels are real, too.”

Welp. The way he glanced away and tightened his jaw on that line…

These microexpressions are killing me, Ackles

Sam looks like he’s just found himself in a cage with a skittish tiger

You can see him unclench when Jack calms down

Breathe, Sammy

“How are you, uh… how are we talking right now? You’re not even a day old, how do you speak English?”

Sam Winchester, asking the real questions

“I have to find my father. He’ll protect me.” “Jack, you’ve gotta listen to me—that’s not really what Lucifer does.” “Lucifer? No, that’s not his name. My father is Castiel.”

OOF

CRITICAL HIT

This is what I wanted but I didn’t think it would be flat out text in fucking episode one jfc

If Sam’s eyebrows rise any higher they’re going to disappear

“She said the world was a dangerous place, that’s why I couldn’t be a baby or a child. That’s why I had to grow up fast. That’s why I chose him to be my father. Where is he?” “He’s dead.” Jeez, Sam. Be a little blunter.

I’m still not sure whether Drunk Fries Lady was already an angel or not when we first saw her, but she’s great (for a jerk)

These angels hate doors more than Cas does

PROTECT THE NOUGAT BABY

PROTECT THE NOUGAT BABY’S BEST FRIEND

This is a particularly good fight scene

BOOM, BANISHING SIGIL! Good job, Sam

“Lucifer 2: Electric Boogaloo”

Dabb, have you been reading my blog >_>

“He can do almost anything.” “Anything?”

DID YOU SEE DEAN’S LOWER LIP QUIVER??? BECAUSE I SURE DID

“Oh, sweetie… almost anything. Castiel? He’s dead. All the way dead.”

Oh, lovely. You can see it hit Dean all over again.

Another Jack Cas-ism! Pulling a blade from his chest!

I want to wrap him in several blankets

Clark is alive and conscious!!! This is good to see. He and his mom should visit the wayward crew, and also have Jack over for dinner.

“Until I figure out a way to end him, we bring him home. At least there the only people he can hurt are you and me.”

Sam’s reaction here is me. It’s one thing for Dean to have given up on his self preservation, but to have given up on his Sam preservation, too? YIKES.

“Chuck did—God did. You remember that? So maybe if we prayed to him, or—“ “You don’t think I’ve tried that?”

Dean looks so hurt by the notion that Sam didn’t assume he’d already prayed. That it’s even a question. Ugh ugh, my soul.

This prayer is a lot. Leave me here to die.

I don’t even know what to say here because I’m sure everyone has talked about this a whole lot, but… “We’ve lost everything. So now you’re gonna bring him back. You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back Mom—you’re gonna bring them all back.”

JESUS H CHRIST

(The H stands for hecking)

“God’s not listening. He doesn’t give a damn.” :’(

Is it terrible that the whole time Jack was touching Kelly’s foot through the sheet I was just thinking “wow I hope the stand-in didn’t have ticklish feet”

It was also sad, but as someone with super ticklish feet I was very distracted by that thought

OH NO

OHHH NO, IT’S THE PART WITH THE PAIN

THE MORE PAIN

THERE HAS ALREADY BEEN A BUNCH

GODDDDDD THE SIGHING AND THE HAND TWITCHING AND THE SWALLOWING BACK TEARS AND THE WRAPPING OF CAS’ BODY???

THIS IS ALL SO FUCKING TENDER AND INTIMATE AND I’M DYING

That one shot, after Dean has to take a moment to steady himself and keep from breaking down, and he looks up at Cas’ face under the sheet? Kill me.

Sam’s speech about saying goodbye how DARE THIS SHOW KEEP HURTING ME LIKE THIS

“Thank you. You say thank you. And you say you’re sorry. You hope there’s somewhere without  sadness. Pain. You hope there’s somewhere better. You say goodbye.”

Sam’s face is wounding me so deeply

I haven’t had time to recover from the Sam face and now here’s Dean saying “Goodbye, Cas” and his lip is trembling this is fine

Welcome to Earth, Jack! Let’s have a funeral!

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Really, though... poor kid. What a rough first day.

WOO MARY!

Ugh, Lucifer. Why won’t you just dieeeee ugh.

ALL THE OTHER THINGS

Did not pass Bechtel-Wallace. Or, possibly, it just barely passed… it depends. Does it count as not talking about a man if the conversation is “you should kill this guy”? Jury is still out, but it doesn’t look good.

Any lingering doubts I had about how important Dean’s grief would be to the season?? Gone. I trusted the reports that said his grief would be a focus point, but I did not expect it to be so much. It’s only going to get more intense from here, and I’m thrilled.

This whole episode was about Cas??? My heart hurts.

We’re off to a good (and painful) start. Bring it on, Dabb.

(I’m going to try to find my chill at some point, but man, it’s gonna be rough.)

[thefinnkinnie]

BTS x Season Aesthetics

Jungkook~Summer

Loud parties, late nights, riding skateboards down the city sidewalks. Ripped jeans, group hugs, smoke flares and Polaroids. Running away from home, crashing at friends apartments, finding love in the street at 2 in the morning, hair full of glitter, dazed eyes and happy smiles. Vows into the dark nights, promising to never let go of each other’s hands. Ignoring rules, ignoring duties, living life recklessly, safe as long as you each hold on. Long nights uncovering hidden pasts, and messy fears giving way to messy tears. Feeling free in the morning and sleeping through the day.

Taehyung~Summer

Roadtrips with your friends that never end, old cameras and dusty film. Sleeping under trees and in fields, picking wild flowers, singing to the sun. Cool nights giggling under the smiling moon, ripped blankets that everyone still piles under. Dad’s musty old van, with the worn seats and sputtering engine. Cutoff shorts, drawn-on converse, and conversing about life while staring at the stars and sharing the bag of sour patch kids you found under the seats. Feeling free under the open sky like never before, forming a tribe on your own of loyalty and passion.

Jimin~Spring

Clear umbrella, light rain, the sunlight breaking through the clouds and dancing on your eyelashes. Breathy smiles and lacy flowers, sipping blossom tea with both hands around your mug, because you got caught in the early morning showers. Flowly dresses, blushing cheeks, holding hands but still looking away in embarrassment. High school crushes, running down the halls giggling with letters of hope held to your chest. The dawn breaking to pink, glowing skies, and filling your mind with a steady calm.

Namjoon~Autumn

Soft cardigans, holding hands, writing poetry in small cafes, while the sharing headphones, whispered debates about the true meaning of your favorite book and napkin ball fights when you don’t agree. Smiling in the fresh breeze, cute dates and matching rings. Cuddling on the worn couch you found while thrifting, wearing glasses just because, watching christmas movies, even though you’re not quite there yet, but who cares because life is magical and warm, and the person sitting beside you is all you need. Buying presents ahead of time, catching the first flakes of snow in your hands, giggling when they fall on your nose, and laughing when they fall in each others eyelashes, and falling quiet as you near each other, those same eyelashes hitting your cheeks and love blossoming in your chests.

Hoseok~Summer

Bright red popsicle sticks dripping down your lips, sports jerseys and blinding blue skies. Exploring old parks, jumping off piers into crystal blue water, sharing hot dogs and snow cones at the carnival. Playing games just to win toys, riding Ferris wheels till your stomach drops, clinging to each other for safety. Laughing until your sides hurt, pulling funny faces, playing pranks on each other. Deepening loyalty, reckless abandon, burning love with the innocence of a childhood friendship.

Yoongi~ Between winter and spring

Those small few weeks, between winter and spring, where the light breaks through the darkness, and the cold says goodbye, and the warmth comes into your eyes. Finding flowers blooming on the sidewalk, trading your winter coats for thick sweaters. Sharing hot coffee, waiting for the train to show up while trading cute stories. Finding the strength to live again, finding the life to smile again, opening up the blinds to your house and laughing again. Picking up the broken pieces, working harder and harder, giving yourself a hug because you know you got through the worst of it.

Jin~Winter

Holiday lights, and Christmas music, and snow painting the sidewalks and the streets. Cooking food with family, meeting family for the first time and freaking out, but falling in love all together. Neatly wrapped presents, with sparkling bows and secret messages. Pictures in front of the tree, dates in the city, with the twinkling lights and the happy couples, sharing warmth as their arms wrap around one another. Homemade hot chocolate, made in the microwave at one in the morning, because you woke up too cold to sleep, but it’s okay because you have each other’s hands and hearts and all the warmth in the world between your eyes. Opening presents, finding rings, finding love under the mistletoe and crying because life gave you a miracle in a smile you’d never thought you’d meet.

[smosh-stuff]

Demigods

Smosh Family: Demigods.

FLitz (13&½): Thoth (Egyptian god of writing, magic, wisdom, and the moon)

Damien (10): Athena (Goddess of wisdom, craft, war, diplomacy, weaving, poetry, medicine, and commerce)

Boze (12): Deimos (Greek God of Terror)

Wes (12): Bia (goddess of Raw energy and force)

Shayne (10): Janus (Roman God of beginnings, transitions, time, duality, doorways, and endings)

Olivia (12): Cao-Guojiu (Chinese God of the Performing Arts)

Sohinki (11): Eris (Greek goddess of strife and discord)

LaserCorn (13): Loki (Norse God of mischief and fire)

Keith (11): Angerona (Roman Goddess of Silence/Secrets)

Mari (11): Xochipilli (Aztec god of art, games, beauty, prostitution, dance, flowers, and song)

Joven (13): Bean-Nighe/Banshee (Celtic omen of death and a messenger from the Otherworld)(Omens/Creatures are the closest thing to Gods in Celtic mythos)

Noah (8): Hathor (Egyptian goddess who personified the principles of joy, feminine love, and motherhood)

Courtney (12): Freya (Norse Goddess of love, sex, beauty, fertility, gold, seiðr, war, and death)

Ian (14): Dionysus (Greek god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, and Theatre)

(They’re out of order age wise… Sorry)

  LaserCorn was thirteen when the “police” came for him. He had been living in an orphanage since he was two, his mother having given him up in hopes of a better life. But, no one wanted the mischievous little boy; it was as if anyone who even looked at him disappeared off the face of the earth. Remember those “Police”? Yeah, well they were actually dwarves. Gross ugly, ball-chin dwarves. What a way to find out to find out your dad is a Norse God, right?! Well, long story short he used his weird, newly discovered, disappear-y magic and found himself in front of a ball of energy and a human philosophy book (Wes and FLitz for the confused peeps). Of course, the ball-sac dwarves could also do weird disappear-y magic and soon enough the three of them were on the run.

“Born” to Roland Haas and Athena the Goddess of wisdom, craft, war, diplomacy, weaving, poetry, medicine, and commerce (I’m going with the Percy Jackson version. AKA she joins minds with other people to create her kids), Damien Haas had a surprisingly normal life. Well, that was of course until he was SIX YEARS OLD, and a CYCLOPS chased him from his home. He was six years old and he had lost everything. His father was dead and his mother refused to answer his prayers. And now? Now Damien Haas is a ten year old nobody on the streets of California, alone, constantly looking over his shoulder in fear.

Mari Takahashi was tired of this crap. She was sick and tired of people looking at her like she was some piece of meat, she was tired of fighting her way past crowds of people that wanted to see her “dance”, and she just wanted to go home. But she knew she couldn’t, her mother had sent her to America because she recognized how talented Mari was as a ballerina. Other people just wanted her to take off her clothes. Mari realized it was time to disappear right after her eleventh birthday, when a man had cornered her and instead of letting him near her, Mari ripped out his heart. So, with bloodied tutu and pointe shoes still on she ran.

FLitz, like Damien wasn’t a being born from sex, but unlike Damien he had only one parent. Thoth had met his “mother” and after endless hours of talking to each other, Thoth could feel something creating itself. Yes, FLitz had been born of his own want to be (Thoth was also self-created); he pulled himself from the abyss and in so gave himself the ability to create. Of course he wasn’t as powerful as Thoth; his creations only lived for a day and they were easily destroyed. He had begun his own quest for knowledge at the age of twelve, and around the time he was thirteen (“Almost fourteen!”) he ran into a tall boy by the name of Wes and decided that his quest could become theirs.

So, uh, the carnival is not a fun place to be. Especially not when you’re Joshua Ovenshire (The kid who sees Death everywhere), the thirteen year old son of a guy that works on movies and a spirit that wails at people. Yep, his mom is a banshee. Well, she’s a banshee when she wants to be. Most of the time she’s just a Bean-Nighe (washes the blood from the grave-clothes of those who are about to die). So, the Carnival which is just a death trap, scares the crap out of Joven. But hey, when you’re thirteen and can predict death, a carnival is the best place to work. Until the police come after you, and you’re forced to run away with an asian girl and her weird, kinda short, friend. How did they meet? Well, Joven got in a debate with the shorter boy over the possibility of multiple Pantheons. The kid- “Sohinki” (Who names their kid that?) did have good points, but Joven had always been raised with Celtic mythos stories, and it was hard to believe that others could exist. But, in time, he would realize how right Sohinki was.

Wesley Johnson: Literal ball of energy, son of Bia, and a lover of all candies. Wes had always known who he was, where he was from, and in all honesty? It didn’t really have any effect on his day to day life. No, Wes’ life wasn’t normal there was always the camp he stayed at during the summer, there were times that he’d have to leave a room because he was literally bursting with energy, and yeah, there was the odd monster or two. It was on one of those trips to his Summer Camp that he was attacked by something called a Serpopard. Thankfully, Flitz was there to save the day. And now (after the flame haired spitfire that is Lasercorn showed up), they’re on a quest to find out why something from the Egyptian Pantheon would attack the son of a Greek goddess, while also running away from some mean dwarves.

TFW you meet someone who seems like they’ll be a sweet and innocent bean, but instead they turn out to be a vicious four foot-nothin’ ball of terror. Yeah, Boze scared the crap out of Damien, But, in his mind, that’s a good thing because if he’s scared than he’s on edge, and if he’s on edge he’s aware of his surroundings. Erica Bozeman was, as Damien stated, a four foot-nothin’ twelve year old who had found the boy behind a dumpster with a shiv as his only weapon. After questioning him, she realized he needed a safe haven where monsters couldn’t get him, and wouldn’t you guess it Boze knew exactly where to take him. Well, not where exactly, more like who to take him to. She had met Wes when they were six. It didn’t take much for their friendship to form, and now Boze had a coin that would lead her to Wes if she ever needed him.

It’s scary knowing that so much can go wrong in life. Keith Leak Jr. had found Noah Grossman one brisk winter about four years ago, which made him (currently) eleven and Noah eight. The younger never told Keith just how he ended up in the streets, and the older boy couldn’t imagine someone throwing Noah out. The boy was a ball of love, love that he gave to literally anyone. Keith had to stop him from hugging a complete stranger just last week. Of course, they were now travelling with said stranger. Keith had thought he was invisible when he’d tried to steal the apples. His mother had given him the power in hopes that he would be able to protect himself. But, he was only a kid and his powers didn’t always work. So, they had been caught trying to steal, and Shayne Topp had come to their rescue. The ten year old didn’t have a sharp tongue, or any tricks up his sleeves, he just talked to the man. In the end the three of them ended up with bags of food and a weepy man. Turns out that Shayne, being the son of Janus, could see into their pasts and was able to pull sympathy from the grocer they’d tried to steal from. Instead of ditching the other two, the ten year old took them back to his hideout where they met Olivia and Courtney.

Olivia and Courtney, were inseparable. One time they had glued their hands together just to prevent the other from leaving. They had lived in the same apartment complex since day one. Courtney had only ever shown Olivia her powers (turning things into gold), and Olivia, in return, showed Courtney that she could change her appearance at will. Of course, that apartment complex had burned down in a “freak accident” when they were twelve. More like a bunch of fire giants came after the two and now they live in an abandoned auditorium with three boys and to quote Ian Hecox, “More coming”. What did that even mean, were there monsters coming, or more people, and by more how many did he mean? Not to badmouth Ian, he had saved all of their lives, but he needs to get better at this messaging stuff. He was the oldest at fourteen and the most experienced demigod in the group. Apparently there was even a camp where they’d be able to stay at. The auditorium they were living in had been dubbed, the “Smosh” hideout, and everyone was grateful that Ian was there for them.

Matthew Sohinki had been forced to run away from home after he came home to two ghouls wearing his foster parents skin like masks. The eleven year old wasn’t fast, and he would’ve been caught if one Mari takahashi hadn’t been there to save him. She had weird flower powers that made vines wrap around his house, ghouls still inside, before pulling it back into the earth. The two ended up travelling together, in search of nothing in particular, at least not until they reached the carnival. When he’d heard what Joven could do he wanted to run, but Mari was convinced that the older boy needed to come with him. In reality, Joven wasn’t given much of a choice when the police showed up looking for blood. Joven turned out to be a great asset to the duo, his ability to see death had kept the three out of many bad situations. One bad situation that they did get themselves into was when Mari had decided to break from the group to investigate a different trio consisting of a mammoth sized guy, an almost equally sized hatted person, and a crazy looking short dude (“We are the same height, you Asshole!”) with orange hair. Apparently having six demigods in one area makes you a beaconing signal for monsters, and soon the group had to fight their way through a hoard of Strix(bird of ill omen, product of metamorphosis, that fed on human flesh and blood). So, now their trio is a sextet headed to some abandoned auditorium because some guy with a bad haircut told them that all of their questions could be answered there.

The End? I guess…Idk

Sorry for inconsistencies, I tried.

AHHH, THAT SOUNDS SO COOL!...Though, I do have a suggestion...? I’m not sure how far or where you looked into Celtic mythology, but the Irish Celts did have a few deities! (As someone who practices wicca, which incorporates many celtic themes, I actually follow a couple myself) Maybe instead of a banshee, he could be the daughter of Clíodhna herself; queen of the banshees, and also ruler of the Celtic afterlife?

[whatisonthemoonarchive]

Is Ye-jin Moon the future?

Someone just recently posted asking about Ye-jin Moon:

...Yejin remains to be seen...Any news about her?

https://whatisonthemoon.tumblr.com/post/189646236336/adverse-to-tf-those-were-the-only-2-criteria

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

I would say Ye-jin Moon might become the future "overseer" of the Sun Hak Institute of History which would include the East Garden Museum. Notice her standing next to Hak Ja Han at the "inauguration":

http://eastgarden.org/uncategorized/true-mothers-dedication-prayer-at-the-east-garden-museum/

The establishment of the East Garden Museum as an official depository of the Moon Family's history...that needs to be exposed for what it is...a BIG LIE!

And maybe the first step to exposing the illegitimacy of the East Garden Museum is to ask John Kinney to "come clean" about the Won Pok Choi papers:

https://history.familyfed.org/collections-toc

Since we now know that Won Pok Choi was the "#1 Concubine" for Sun Myung Moon, we need to know if this "Choi Collection" reveals anything to support that fact. Here's some excerpts from John Kinney (and Mr. Moon) talking about Won Pok Choi. You'll find "Concubine duties" inferred to and the burning of "confidential papers" mentioned as well:

Mrs. Choi...She explained sleeping one meter from True Father and Mother with only a wood and paper sliding door separating them. She referred to the fact that she could hear even the faintest sound from Parent's chamber while having to maintain silence even in her sleeping time.

http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks/Kinney/Kinney-050908.htm

Reverend Sun Myung Moon, The Meaning Of The Day Of Victory Of Love, January 2, 1997, S㯠o Paulo, Brazil

The role of Mrs. Won Pok Choi

Sung Jin's mother divorced me. Therefore, instead of Sung Jin's mother, Won Pok Choi came out from the Choi clan and abandoned her husband and children to follow me...she had to prepare for the way of True Mother and had to serve True Mother as her own mother and her daughter. Without serving True Mother like a daughter, daughter-in-law, mother, and grandmother, restoration is impossible...Thus, True Father, True Mother, and the eldest son stand as one line, and then all people have to follow the eldest son.

Joon Ho Seuk! Did your elder brother commit suicide?...He was a lovely son in his family, who graduated from Seoul National University. How much did Mrs. Choi's children miss their mother? In this sense, I am an unforgivable sinner.

After the Holy Wedding Ceremony, I directed grandmother Hong to use the back door of the church. There were over twelve groups, which were competing with each other to be True Mother. It was my responsibility to put the competition in order. You do not know how difficult it was to raise True Mother.

Because of this process, I could not raise True Mother until 1992. Because women are talkative, a woman has a great possibility to disclose providential secrets. Therefore, after accomplishing all things for forty years, from 1952 until 1992, with the liberation of women, True Mother could stand beside me with equal qualification. From that time, I began a three to four-year course of handing over my authority to True Mother. I am going such a way now until this year.

http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks/Kinney/Kinney-060128.htm

My Testimony - Joe Kinney

Mrs. Choi...She wore the same type of crowns and ceremonial robes that True Parents wore...One of my interests was to count the number of stars affixed to the White Paper Crowns that True Parents used to wear and to try to guess how they were advancing in fulfilling their missions. Mrs. Choi usually had the same number of stars as Mother and Father always had more.

I remember when Mrs. Choi asked me to burn a huge amount of old correspondence to keep it confidential. I never took a peak and burned every single scrap. I didn't want to violate her trust.

After some time I began to massage Mrs. Choi during my visits. She explained the damage to her physical body from the strenuous schedule of attending True Parents for so many years...Her body had residue of so much physical stress that she endured for so many years. She had an unusual band of ligaments or similar tissue under the skin in the position of a belt around her waist as a legacy of her physical suffering.

She told me what it was like for her to sleep with in one meter of Father and Mother with just a wood and paper door between them. She shyly described to me that she could here every sound, snoring, flatulence, Father and Mothers pillow talk, and the sound of their lovemaking...I cant imagine this PhD Dean of a women's college could live in such close contact with True Parents...

...her physical sons whom she had to abandon in the early years...(she) was constantly trying to send small gifts to them or to visit them on one of the extremely rare days that she could get away from East Garden for a few hours...

...what I understand about Mrs. Chois course is that she had to raise or educate True Mother for her 1st two seven year courses and for the 1st 3 years of the third. On True Parents Birthday February 23, 1977 Father proclaimed, Day One of the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth and Mrs. Choi's course was completed. She returned to Korea soon after.

She had thousands of historical letters and things Father had signed or used...Night after night I would help her pack up boxes and suite cases and after Father had retired we would throw these in the back of a car and meet Dr. Seuk or one of her other sons at some rendezvous not so far from East Garden to have them ship them to Korea to her home.

When I met her at Belvedere several years later she gave me a big bear hug and every time she came to America on a private visit to her four sons who live in the New York area she would telephone me and invite me to come to their houses to visit her.

The last time I saw her was here at the New Yorker about 2 years ago (In 2003 or 4). She seemed to have a severe case of dementia probably caused by Alzheimers disease and she could barely even recognize me.

http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks/Kinney/Kinney-060128.htm

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

I hope some of you took special note, that Won Pok Choi abandoned her 4 sons. One of them most likely committed suicide because of Mr. Moon. Moreover, when Ms. Choi went back to Korea in 1977, having completed a 20-plus-year responsibility as the "Queen Concubine"...she had to say good-bye to her 4 sons, AGAIN...since they all lived and stayed in New York.

Mr. Moon must have really wanted Won Bok Choi back in Korea no matter what. Why? Because of his oldest daughter Ye-jin, of course. She was 16 years old at that time and knew, at intuitively, that Won Pok Choi was a "Mistress" to her Dad. Ye-jin Moon must have suffered immensely due to this situation and wrote a book of poetry in 1976, in what I see as an attempt to distance herself emotionally from the trauma she endured:

http://www.tparents.org/Moon-Books/MindGarden-761000.pdf

In the first few pages of the book, we see a photo of the "True Family" with the 2 "half siblings" present (Sung-jin & Dong-suk)...which reminds us all of what Ye-jin might have been going through.

Maybe one day, if Ye-jin Moon does become responsible for the "East Garden Museum Library", she can share with the "tourists" about her early teenage years when she found out her Dad was sleeping with Won Pok Choi right there on the property. In that way, the "East Garden Tour" might be worth taking!

'til the next,

Don Diligent