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asimawv · 5 years ago

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I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.)

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style.

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

#darkest dungeon #playlist #song reccomendations #fic: the myth of sisyphus #give me that hozier baby

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drjackandmissjo · 5 years ago

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Roses are Red, Tattoos are Forever

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter

Feysand masterlist

The Sherlock Conundrum

Florist and tattoo artist Au, Modern Day

“Can you please stop with this madness? Hugh Laurie is clearly the best Sherlock ever!”

They were both sitting on the couch of his living room. Really close to each other. She had her left knee under her body and was fully facing him. He had been throwing glances at her way the whole time she’s been there, and now was admiring her everything as they bantered lovingly.

After a particularly rough client, that had taken her nearly seven hours to finish, she came into his shop claiming: “We’re both closing earlier, I need to rest and so do you.”

At his attempt to tell her off, cause “I don’t need to rest I am in pristine fit every second of every minute”, she simply replied with an elongated ‘Please’ and a pair of puppy dog eyes that would’ve put a Labrador to shame.

Useless to say, they ended up on his couch half an hour later, a marathon of the fourth season of House M.D. on the television and chips and popcorn all around.

Feyre is harder than she looks, tougher. She likes to drink whiskey and burning liquor and beer.

Rhys, on the other hand, is a refined rosé man. He drinks fruity drinks and cocktails and vodka. He tried the same stuff that she drinks, once, when they went out with the rest of the inner circle after Az had received a promotion. It didn’t end well.

Feyre and Cassian will forever tease him about it.

Since their taste in alcohol was on such a wide spectrum, they decided to settle for some sparkly Coca-Cola for that fine night.

About halfway through episode six, the debate had begun. The show was soon forgotten and left as a white noise machine that lulled them into their silliness.

“Feyre Darling. You are being delusional. Dr House’s got nothing on RDJ’s Sherlock. Just cause the character was inspired by Conan Doyle’s work it doesn’t mean it can be considered a Sherlock.”

She laughed. A delicious sound that was filling his days more and more each morning. “Do you know that Conan Doyle based Shelly on a doctor, right? Also, yeah Jude Law’s better than Wilson, that is true.”

“Can we just agree that Cumberbatch and Freeman are equally amazing.”

“Yeah, duh! But, controversial opinion: I don’t actually ship Jonhlock romantically.”

“More like platonic soul-mates? Makes complete sense. They are not interested in each other at all. You are right, Fey-ruh Acheron.”

‘HOW DARE SHE...’, he thought severely displeased.

“Oh please don’t be pissed at me. I like them together and everything, but in my mind, Sherlock is pretty much ace-aro. I mean, Cumberbatch was also Smaug. Which in the books is described as a dragon while the movies decided to portray him like a vixen...” He solemnly nodded.

That is, indeed, a severe problem in mainstream media.

“That is, indeed, a severe problem in today mainstream media. We live in a world where people don’t know the difference between one another! Daenerys Mother of Dragons? More like Dany The Soccer Mom of three cool lizards. That would be more appropriate!”

“Don’t talk to me about Dany, I’m still pissed about Jonerys. I mean, fan-service much? Okay, I can deal with that. But don’t freaking kill Viserion and try to make us all believe that HIS MOTHER WOULD FUCK HER NEPHEW THIRTY MINUTES LATER!”

She laughed again.

‘Gods above and below,’ he thought, ‘how much can a person love another?’

“Agree 100% on Viserion, though Jon after Ygrit should’ve just zipped up his pants and close business. You experience that kind of love once in your screentime. And when you do, Martin kills the counterpart off immediately after the big scene. You know that sadist is gonna kill you off, so just spare him the dirty deeds to write.”

“The dirty deeds are the reasons he is taking so much to finish that freaking book. Also, salty much?"

"You dare calling me salty? It’s been years and you still weep over Robb’s body.”

“Excuse you, it is a very fine body. Have you seen Richard Madden lately? With that kilt at Kit and Rose’s wedding? Fine AF.”

She was now scooting over, moving closer to his face to find a reaction.

“Fine, you’re right. But Darling, you know damn well I am attracted to that man, you can’t just casually throw his name around! That would be like me, saying that Misha has aged like a fine whisky.”

“And where would a lie hide in that sentence?”

“ANYWAY. We were talking of something terrifically important.”

He decided to add a Meaningful Pause to give himself some dramatic effect...

“How can you say you don’t ship Jonhlock romantically?”

‘Honesly I love that woman. She is my other half, I would die for her and with her. My life without her has no meaning.

But if her answer doesn’t please me then so help me God I will suffer through a meaningless life with the strength of my ships.’ His mind said.

“I told you before the 'The Hobbit/Game of Thrones' parenthesis. When I read the books I thought of Sherlock as a madman who cared about Watson profoundly, but mostly cares about himself and his work. Someone who doesn’t dwell into feelings, doesn’t really enjoy sexual times and, truly, a modern-day asexual and aromantic asshole with a kink for unofficial police work. Yes, He and Watson are amazing together, and especially with RDJ and Jude Law I saw the sexual tension, which then I also saw in the BBC’s version. But for me, since I read the books first, Jonhlock will always be the exact relationship shown by House and Wilson. Sorry to disappoint.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her shampoo and count the freckles across her nose. She was staring directly into his soul. Rhys was fully clothed in an old tee and some pants and yet he’d never felt more naked.

“You never disappoint me. As a matter of fact, you never cess to amaze me, Feyre Acheron. You are perfect and beautiful both on the inside as well as on the outside. Here I was, looking for a polite way to kick you out of my apartment after you say you don’t ship one of my OTPs and now, here still I am trying not to be drowned into you and trying not to get lost into your eyes and I love you so fucking much that it physically hurts.”

His inner monologue at the time? ‘Fuck. FUCK. What the fuck did I just say???’

She had managed to fry his whole brain with her smart reasoning and perfect voice and now he had ruined a perfect moment by saying cheesy stuff to a girl that didn’t particularly care for cheese.

That was the end of Rhysand Sphera as we all know and love him.

Cause of death: killed by Feyre Acheron as result of saying something completely idiotic.

Only...

“Do you really mean that?”

She sounded hopeful and scared at the same time. The horrors she had to face in the past came running back to her and were written all over her face. Rhys took her hands in his. They were both trembling.

His mouth had probably never been that dry and yet aching to speak at the same time. He could only nod and pray she reciprocated.

That was the moment of truth.

“Of course I mean it. All of it. Each unsaid sentence and each shared glances. Every time I bring you coffee or a send you a picture of a dog that walks into my shop with its owner even though I’m terrified of them. The dog, not the owner. Even though some owners of dogs are terrifying. I have been in love with you for so long, I forgot how it feels not loving you. I look back at those times when you were not in my life and even back then I knew I was missing something. And when he-who-must-not-be-named showed up and swept you off your feet away from me, I was broken beyond repair. But you came back and made me hope that maybe, maybe all my dreams could become true. But you were hurt and also broken, and you needed time to heal. You still do. I shouldn’t have said anything, but you’re just so fucking amazing that I struggle to not scream ‘I Love You’ every time you breathe. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you. I understand if you still need time to heal or would rather be with someone else. But I said it, and I do not intend on taking it back.”

She was kneeling on the couch, her hands still clutching his, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t take it back.”

Rhys thought he had heard what he wanted, so he had to ask, “What?”, a dumbstruck disbelieving-his-luck expression plastered on his face.

“I said don’t take it back. I feel the same way. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you too. I thought you hated me after, well, Tamlin. It is pleasant knowing we reciprocate each other’s feelings.”

Feyre laughed again, breaking the spell between them. Only, now the deed was done. Neither of them could hold their emotions in any longer. Feyre leaned in and so did Rhys, and their lips met halfway in a once in a lifetime, epic romance, Full on Princess Bride type of kiss.

After they both ran out of breath, they simply remained connected in every way possible given their awkward position. Foreheads never leaving each other, hands clasped together, lips barely touching. That spell, though, didn’t last for long. Soon they yearned to touch each other’s skin and feel each other’s bodies.

They were never going to have enough of each other.

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ritebeforeyoureyes · 7 years ago

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Confessions

Do I like this chapter? No, not really. But I wanted to upload today, so here it is!

Masterlist – Plot: Tom is back in LA.

Confessions (Chapter Eighteen)

Zendaya was sick, and not in the literal sense.

She was sick of feeling helpless, beating herself up over the fact that she didn’t have Tom by her side and that her stalker still wouldn’t leave her alone. Darnell had been wrong about her stalker taking step back and leaving her alone. In fact, her stalker just grew more and more persistent with Tom out the picture. She’d wake up to an abundance of messages, good morning wishes and little kisses. Candid pictures of her smiling were sent to her phone as she went to bed, him reminding her to smile like this when she saw him in her dreams.

It was nauseating.

He was slowly becoming the stereotypical overbearing parent that wouldn’t let their child fly the nest. It was like everything Zendaya did needed to be approved or known by him. She went to the bathroom for a few minutes longer than usual and creepily enough, her stalker knew about it. It was driving her up the wall and consequently, Zendaya’s security too. It was like her stalker was some IT God. It was taking them weeks to decipher the encryption codes the guy was using to hack into her phone and laptop software. Not even buying her new technology had helped because hours later, he was back in.

But the ultimate turning point had been the moment Zendaya came home from work to find flowers on her kitchen island. It was a bouquet of a few dozen red roses; intended to be romantic in gesture. At first, Zendaya had admired the beautiful assortment from afar before the dread settled in her. There was a note, one with barely distinguishable handwriting that read: Beautiful flowers for my beautiful honeybee.

Zendaya’s immediate reaction was to drop the note – she knew who they were from, the adoring term ‘honeybee’ ringing even louder bells than they had before. The limp piece of paper fluttered to her feet and she simply gaped, her eyes swivelling left and right at the probability of her stalker still being in her house. With Darnell doing some PR work and her parents’ absence from L.A., Zendaya was in the house by herself. She thought the premise was safe; alarms, locked doors and windows, security cameras and yet he’d still managed to invade her privacy (yet again) Other than her parents and Darnell, nobody had a key to Zendaya’s place and instantly, she was on edge.

Instinctively, Zendaya grabbed at a knife, just in case, before calling the authorities and her security team. The wait for them to arrive had felt like some of the longest moments of her life, mirroring the emotions that she had felt when being held captive just a few weeks ago. Zendaya knew being that stereotypical stupid protagonist of a horror movie was not going to end well. So, she kept her mouth shut and slid down behind her kitchen counters in an attempt to hide. With her back pressed firmly against the cupboards behind her, she pulled her knees to her chest and prepared herself for an attack if the intruder was to show himself.

Nevertheless, regardless of how prepared she looked on the outside, Zendaya felt her panic surface. Her body was perspired, and she felt her breathing grow more difficult. Every time she attempted to inhale, her throat grew constricted and a wheezing sound resonated from her chest. She was experiencing the tell-tale signs of a minor panic attack. But, it was safe to say, her stalker was no longer there because within hours, Zendaya was speaking to police officers about what had happened, having her house scoped excessively and skilfully, checking herself into a hotel room for the rest of the week.

After that moment, she wasn’t left alone. There was always someone by her side and soon it was becoming increasingly unbearable. She was being treated like a child and she hated it. Even the press had caught wind of Zendaya’s break-in situation, her face plastered over major media outlets. Every time she stepped out the door, Zendaya was being hounded by paparazzi and fans and deep down, she knew most of them came from a good place. She knew there were people who genuinely cared yet … she couldn’t help but feel massively alone, even when she was reunited with her Spider-Man co-stars.

It was the first time Zendaya was having a home cooked meal in a while and Laura, Tom, Harrison, Jacob, Zendaya and Darnell were sat around a table. Zendaya smiled when she was meant to but most of the time, her eyes stayed trained on her plate. She could feel Tom’s oppressive glare occasionally, but she ignored it. If Zendaya looked at Tom, that was going to be it for her … she would breakdown.

“Could you pass the salt, Jacob?” Zendaya asked her friend across from her. He silently nodded, in the middle of chewing, and slid the salt shaker across the table. “Thanks.”

“We all know how Zendaya loves to receive things.” Tom made the snide remark about receiving under his breathe, and the whole table went eerily quiet.

Before flying back to L.A., Tom had tortured himself by looking up Odell Beckham Jr. He was an American football wide receiver and Tom couldn’t help it as the unprecedented quip left his lips.

“What did you just say?” Zendaya dropped her fork into her plate, her mouth widening with a tinge of anger. She wasn’t stupid, she had heard Tom loud and clear and she knew exactly what he was implying. It was ironic actually, how mad he seemed to be at the possibility of her moving on with Odell (despite it being false) Yet, he made no acknowledgement of the fact that she was as shit scared as ever of her stalker or that he had been the first to move on. Zendaya couldn’t get the image of Tom and Ella out of her head and she was angry that first, he was plaguing her mind so furiously and second, that he had the audacity to make jabs at her for coincidentally running into a friend at a basketball game.

Odell and Zendaya were just friends and the tabloids claiming that they had gone on a date together were being ridiculous. Zendaya had been sat, courtside, with her mom, that should have been a big enough indicator that it wasn’t a date. She thought it was absurd how people were more fascinated by her love life then they were about her safety.

In Tom’s defence, however, petty jabs were the best he could come up with when he saw Zendaya again. He ignored the swarming of his heart and the clamminess of his hands, the word diarrhoea leaving his lips freely. His eyes glazed over the fact that she looked ever so beautiful and sad, his heart forcing him to shut her out. It was easier that way. He knew there was no going back to the normality of their relationship and that thought killed him. He knew he needed to get used to a life without Zendaya, no matter how hard that was, and jeopardising both their romantic and friendly relationship meant pushing her away – it gave Zendaya an excuse not be around him and Tom an outlet for his anger.

And frankly, with how asshole-like Tom was being, Zendaya didn’t want to be in the same room as him. With her stalker picking and choosing his moments to intervene with her life and Tom being so unlike his usual supportive self, Zendaya was overwhelmed and suddenly, the large room that they were in felt oppressive. She felt claustrophobia like she had never felt it before and she politely excused herself from the dinner table, her stomach still grumbling profoundly.

Once again, she was alone.

The room was left silent as she departed, everybody scared to make a sound after what they had witnessed. But Jacob, being the devoted Tom-Zendaya stan that he was, knew he needed to intervene, “That was a low blow, bro.”

“This whole situation is-“ Tom sighed heavily, running a frustrated hand through his curls. Jacob was one of the most real people that he knew and the fact that he was calling him out on his shit meant that he had really screwed up. “Everything’s fucked up and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Look man, do you really believe she’s seeing that guy?” Jacob added, his eyes narrowing as he forced Tom to wholly think about his response. It took him a while to think about it but truthfully, he’d known the answer since the moment he’d seen the pictures that were currently all over the internet. Odell clearly made her happy, but Tom knew Zendaya, like really knew her, and he knew she wouldn’t have gone so public with a relationship so quick. It didn’t add up.

“No, I don’t.”

“So, talk to her!” Laura chimed in. She didn’t understand why both Zendaya and Tom were being so stubborn and refusing to discuss the elephant in the room. Personally, Laura saw strength in numbers and she believed that Tom and Zendaya should be tackling their problems together instead of fighting one another in return. “Tom, I’m not going to beat around the bush, this stalker business is screwing her up and, I really think she needs you right now so grow a pair and start pulling your weight before somebody else does it for you.”

The reality behind Laura’s words settled within Tom, her melodic voice ringing through his head over and over again – she needs you right now, she needs you right now, she needs you right now.

“Fine, I’ll talk to her.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work, please support me whilst I get through university. The money you donate will go towards assisting me in my student fees. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit and greatly appreciated, however, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too. Thank you for being the greatest: https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

#tomdaya fanfiction #tomdaya #tomdaya fan fic #tomdaya fan fiction #tomdaya fanfic #confessions #confessions chapter eighteen #ritebeforeyoureyes

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downtheaxon · 7 years ago

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trigger warning: this is a meditation on the after-effects of sexual assault and relationship violence, featuring explicit discussion of suicidality and self harm. I know I write on these themes a lot, but I feel like this is more raw than usual and something that could potentially hurt a few of you - even if we are close friends, please don’t feel pressured to read it.

reassuring comment added now that I’ve written everything: I’m posting this as an exercise in vulnerability and a cry for comfort. that said, I am safe and feel like I should reassure everyone of that. I am safe and now that this is over I will crochet, eat some soup, and go to two yoga classes. maybe play some piano. writing like this externalizes the heaviness and makes me see it from an outsider’s perspective, which helps me pull out a lot of self-compassion. though I feel this way on some level, I also feel an urgent need to care for myself on other levels, and reach out when in crisis - in short, I am safe but have a lot to process. and processing it publicly like this helps with the shame I feel and will likely help me bring this up in my next therapy phonecall.

I finally have a day off and haven’t written about my mind in a really long while. but, before I write (which may take an hour and my god is it an hour that I need) I will put some salmon on my plate and brew a cup of black cherry tea. let me get back to you.

I’m letting hayley kiyoko’s girls like girls finish playing before I put on my spotify daily mix number 4 (hozier, bon iver, handmouth and more, apparently). there’s a cut grapefruit and salmon and tea near me, and my coffee cup that’s almost finished but has gone a bit cold by now. I don’t know why it is that writing through tumblr makes me express myself most truthfully, more truthfully than if I opened evernote or textedit or wrote on paper or if I spoke to someone directly via voice or text. the liminal space of having no audience while having a vast audience is comforting, I guess. a different kind of false vulnerability coupled with a kind of anonymity.

now that I’ve put on daily mix 4, let me start by saying what I thought to say when I got up to make tea: I am permeated by sadness.

it is exhausting to be permeated by sadness. I feel it at the base of my sternum, stirring gently, right at home in my very core. agitated when something goes wrong, and peacefully present otherwise. this is all a cliche, I know. I know. but lately my sadness feels like its own separate entity, living comfortably in me, and almost harmoniously. it keeps quiet sometimes, which I am grateful for, but still nuzzles into me just to remind me - I’m here and will always be here and that’s ok.

and that’s ok.

I’m trying to make peace with who I am. I know that self-identity shapes perception. I know that thinking of myself as a cook makes me cook more, that thinking of myself as a yogi makes me take advantage of my unlimited classes more, that thinking of myself as mentally ill probably exacerbates symptoms (just think positive!).

I’m trying to make peace with my limitations. my need for regularity in sleep and diet, my rapid exhaustion, my failing memory. my tendency to shut down completely. my readiness to cry when something hits me hard.

when something hits me hard.

I just paused in writing this to read a reference letter that my old volunteer coordinator wrote for a big national scholarship (she emailed it to me as I was writing this). and I cried. I cried at the cognitive dissonance of my brain repeatedly telling me how worthless I am and this person tangibly proving the wonderful things they have to say about me. it’s funny because I really believe that those two people exist at once.

“I love me but I don’t love me back” to paraphrase a post I recently reblogged.

how can I exist as selfish, unloveable, and needing to be hurt punished destroyed when I also exist as compassionate, kindhearted, intelligent, successful, and supportive?

and yet my brain is convinced, convinced, that this is how this works. when I’m tired, I have less energy to devote to silencing the ever-pressing thought of “you don’t deserve to be alive”. I am not suicidal, per se, because I want to be alive. things are really looking up lately, and really working out, and I am involved in exciting initiatives and have mutually cared about wonderful and interesting people and am growing all the time... but I do not feel like I deserve it.

how do I fight for the things I should be fighting for (like scholarships, authorship, opportunities, attention?) when I feel like I don’t deserve to relax, to eat, to laugh.

my homework for therapy for these two weeks was to think about shame. let me say this: I am ashamed to tell anyone how I feel. I am ashamed of these complex feelings of no self worth, I am ashamed of my urge to self destruct, I am ashamed of my shame. I am ashamed to say the truth about how I feel, about what I experience, about how I react.

two weeks ago, at the doctor’s, I cried uncontrollably. and I mean that literally. I cry a lot, maybe once a week, and it’s often dramatic and torrential (and necessary). but these tears were... different somehow. I don’t remember a lot from the winter of 2014, when I spent more of my time awake in flashbacks to the past than in the present, but I suspect that these recent tears were similar to those days.

“that’s not supposed to hurt” the doctor said very kindly very gently and I am on my back crying crying crying unable to see and I barely hear her and I am afraid and ashamed and crying.

“I’m sorry, I have a history” was all I could choke up and she wouldn’t let it go. I know why, I know it’s her training, she needs to make sure it’s ok and not believe me when I say “it’s nothing, it’s fine, I’m ok” she’s supposed to push, to ask, to make me tell her. and I cry, I cry and I make it off the exam table to the chair where she writes my prescription and I cry I cry I cry. I step out of the office, to the lab to drop off the swab for testing (the poor lab tech does not acknowledge I am crying but is clearly uncomfortable), to the bathroom to cry more. fifteen minutes later I am unable to stop and I am hungry and want to go home so I walk through campus, first inside then outside, crying quietly, effortlessly. my face barely moves and tears just go and go and go and it’s raining outside and I keep crying.

I walk home slowly and pick up my prescription close to the house, so nearly an hour has past since I started crying. I am more in control now, thankfully. the pharmacist says, in a whisper as she hands me the prescription “just try not to have relations with anyone” and something breaks more. tears and shame.

this is all a fucking cliche.

I tell my therapist about it a week later, when I call him by the river, but I change the subject right after. we revisit it three times during the hour, always briefly, three sentences. how do I talk about it?

I know that there is so much I don’t remember. I know. the fall of 2013 is a blur of pain and I have recurring visions that I don’t know if they were true. when I am upset and think that I deserve to be hurt, I see myself getting pushed into a wall, right shoulder and bicep first, hip and head next. always the same image. but I don’t think that happened, because I would remember it.

(but what about the gap in my memory after he takes my phone from me?)

I estimate: how many times? first maybe two times a week, by the end every day. does every day count? when did it start being every day? it couldn’t have been every day.

I know when the last times were with certainty. I know the dates and even the times of day. the circumstances. those are clear.

the cliche of talking about this (I don’t call it by the word almost ever I don’t call it by any word sometimes and today is one of those days) almost four years after it happened. over two weeks after my amygdala relived it anew.

I think that’s the real trouble with these things. they feel like they keep happening. first, it wasn’t once. it was at least two times, but probably not more than a few dozen worth. probably. do the math.

(god you’re pathetic, how could you ever let that happen a few dozen times? no one would do that, you must be making it up so that you can have an excuse to feel sorry for yourself)

and since it happened a lot (or didn’t happen at all, I made it up), the memories all muddled together, the fearshame returning all the time... it’s a cliche, I know, I know it’s a cliche, but it feels so recent. it feels like I can’t tell the difference between the act and the memory. the replica is the real thing, the same fearshame (I like putting those words together because that is the thing that feeds my sadness and it is one and the same).

cliche, really.

how do I cure this? how do I stop being stuck and having this on replay again and again and again.

I feel like I’m dishonest with people who don’t know. if someone doesn’t know about this, well, they have the wrong idea about me. they don’t see the rot.

(the feeling of being fundamentally rotten and flawed, shame around who you are, the feeling of being destined to hurt anyone in the end, the feeling of being broken, the feeling of being fundamentally evil, the feeling of imposter syndrome on a greater scale, the feeling of inadequacy, the feeling of deserving this pain and so much more pain, the feeling of deserving getting slammed into a wall right shoulder first)

but I am ashamed. ashamed of the trauma rot pain.

(hasthag bell let’s talk day and pretend that mental health exists in isolation of abuse and flawed power dynamics and people getting profoundly hurt by other people and that if we all just talked more it would go away but talking remains frightening when it’s not self contained in the conventional narrative)

how to combat the sense of “no, you don’t understand, I’m not legitimately ill. I deserve to feel this way. I am doomed to sadness.”

I hate the just world hypothesis, that bad things happen to bad people and good things happen to good people. but I believe it.

and if bad things happened to me, it is because I am bad, and therefore I don’t deserve to be alive. but I am ashamed of that thought because if I say it out loud people will know how bad I am, how rotten, how destroyed, how obsessed with self pity. they will know and they will agree.

how can I be the worst human on earth and trick others into thinking that I am kind, loving, smart, supportive?

it is comical when the mental illness tricks you and you find yourself thinking “well, I couldn’t possibly be worse than hitler” and it says “oh no, trust me, you’re way worse than hitler”. I chuckle but the sadness stirs at the base of my sternum, awake and nuzzling into me.

how do you heal when you remain convinced that you deserve to have your bones broken instead?

#personal #this is not a happy post

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ruminativerabbi · 6 years ago

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A Great Loss

You all probably know the old joke according to which there are three stages of life: youth, middle age, and “you look fabulous.” Hardy-har-har! But now it turns out there’s a fourth stage, the one characterized (at least retroactively) by the response “he/she was still alive?” For many of us, the death at age 96 last week of Doris Day was in that last category: I think I thought she had died years ago. But now I have a new candidate for that fourth stage: Herman Wouk, who died last Friday at age 103. This is more than slightly embarrassing to me however, because it turns out Wouk’s last book, published just three years ago, was entitled, Sailor and Fiddler: Reflections of a 100-Year-Old Author. How can I have missed that? I was and am a great fan, and to this day I consider Wouk to be one of our least appreciated American authors, a true giant who apparently ran afoul of the literary establishment by publishing book after book that resonated deeply with the reading public and brought him the commercial success that those people find impossible to square with true literary talent. I couldn’t disagree more. Mind you, those people didn’t (and don’t) think much of John Steinbeck or James Michener either.

Far more accurate in my mind were those who, at a gathering held at the Library of Congress in Washington in 1995 to celebrate Wouk’s eightieth birthday, acclaimed Wouk as an American Tolstoy. And, indeed, Wouk—in this just like Tolstoy—filtered what he saw of the world through his own religious consciousness to produce pageant-like novels filled (like life itself) with countless characters, some centerstage and others present only briefly for a moment before disappearing into the wings, some crucial to the development of the plot and others depicted as merely standing next to more pivotal personalities. And the intrigues and adventures of those personalities—varying from profound to trivial and from inspiring to shameful (and yet somehow never crossing the line to tawdry, let alone to truly vulgar)—those stories became, for both Wouk and Tolstoy, the canvas on which to paint a picture of the world not merely as they saw it but, far more profoundly, as their insight allowed them to understand it. That, after all, is the novelist’s true calling: not merely to tell make-believe stories about make-believe people but to use the narrative medium to say something insightful and moving about the real-life world in which the author and his or her readers actually live.

Like most of my readers, I suppose, my first Wouk novel was The Caine Mutiny, for which the author won the Pulitzer Prize in 1951 and which was made into an Oscar-nominated film in 1954 starring Humphrey Bogart, Jose Ferrer, Van Johnson, and Fred MacMurray. I loved the book, found it far more engaging than the movie, and resolved to read more, which I did: I believe that I read every single one of Wouk’s novels in the course of my lifetime as a devoted fan of his writing. I’ll read Sailor and Fiddler this summer.

Marjorie Morningstar was the first of Wouk’s novels to be published during my lifetime. (I had to wait a bit to get to it, though, since I was only two years old when it came out.) I had to read it surreptitiously, though—according to the idiotic rules that pertained during my teenage years, Marjorie Morningstar was a “girls’ book,” so not one any boy would be caught dead reading…at least not in public—and I also saw the 1958 movie starring Natalie Wood. (Other books boys didn’t read included Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and, of course, Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. Enough time having passed, I now feel able to admit to having read both. Don’t tell the guys!) It too affected me deeply, but more because of its Jewish content than its plot…and also because of the fact Herman Wouk was born in the year of my mother’s birth and Marjorie Morningstar, née Morgenstern, in the year of my father’s. Because of that, I think, the whole book felt like a kind of a window into my parents’ world, and particularly into the strange ambivalence they brought to their Jewishness that Wouk captured perfectly in the opening chapters of the book. In the end, Marjorie sees the error of her ways—although she is given a strong push in that direction by her own failure to succeed as a Broadway actress—and ends up abandoning her decision to abandon her Jewishness, marrying a nice Jewish fellow named Milton Schwartz, and settling into suburban Jewish life. The Jewish ending had no precise parallel in my parents’ lives (other than them getting married and living happily ever after), but the effect the book had on me was profound…and eventually I lived out its dénouement personally by adopting an observant lifestyle and embracing a version of Judaism my parents felt more than able to live without.

And then there were The Winds of War and its sequel, War and Remembrance, published in 1971 and 1978 respectively. I read both with the greatest enthusiasm, identifying particularly strongly with one specific character, Berel Jastrow, who is depicted as being in 1941 roughly the age I was when I was reading the book and who functions as the Jewish heart and soul of the story line in the second book. What was remarkable about the books, I thought then (and still do), is how Wouk depicts the Hitler’s war against the Jews as one of two simultaneous wars of aggression being waged by the Nazis: one against any nation deemed to be standing in the way of Germany’s expansionist goals and the other against the Jewish people. Both wars are depicted in detail in both books and, indeed, the story revolves around two families, the Henrys and the Jastrows, who respectively represent these two wars in Wouk’s narrative. I found Wouk’s ultimate point—that neither war is fully comprehensible without a clear understanding of the other—both validating and motivating. Decades later, when I read Ken Follett’s Winter of the World (the second book in his “Century” trilogy), a book recounting the intertwined stories of five families during the years of the Second World War but in which the Shoah is almost never mentioned and is otherwise wholly absent from the narrative, I was struck by the degree to which Wouk’s worldview had become my own.

I think my favorite Wouk book is Inside, Outside, one of his least well-known works. Published in 1985, it tells the story of four generations of the same Jewish family from the vantage point of one Israel David Goodkind, who belongs to the third generation of the four. It’s an interesting book in a lot of different ways—filled with historical personalities like Richard Nixon (delicately left unnamed in the book but unmistakable), Golda Meir, Ira and George Gershwin, Marlene Dietrich, Bert Lahr, Ernest Hemingway, and others, what the book felt to me like it was really about was how a man who made every conceivable sacrifice to thrive in the highest echelons of American society, how even such a man in the end felt drawn back to his roots and ended up embracing a version of Judaism he had earlier on mostly rejected. That image of the Jewish individual sacrificing everything to succeed in the secular world and then returning, one way or the other, to his or her roots keeps coming back again and again in Wouk’s books. That isn’t my personal story, but it is the story of so many people I’ve known over the years that it is nonetheless very resonant with me. I suppose I should mention that I read Inside, Outside in our apartment on the Heinrichfuchsstrasse in Rohrbach, the little town outside Heidelberg that Joan and I lived in during the years I taught in Germany. So I read this book about American Jewry when I myself was both inside and outside—the ideal setting! I wonder if I’d find it as compelling today. I suppose could find out easily enough.

There’s a lot more to write about. I read Wouk’s “Israeli” novels, The Hope and The Glory when they came out in 1993 and 1994. They’re expansive, big books, the first covering the years from 1948 to 1967 and the second moving forward through the Yom Kippur War, Entebbe, and, finally, Anwar Sadat’s visit to Israel in 1977. Like The Winds of War and War and Remembrance, Wouk tells his story by intertwining the stories of fictional characters and historical personalities, and he does yeoman’s work in both volumes: even today if someone asks me what to read to “get” the whole Israeli story, I send them to those two books.

There are lots more books I could write about. I read Youngblood Hawke, Wouk’s fictional biography of a young American author not unlike Thomas Wolfe. I read Don’t Stop the Carnival, about a Jewish New Yorker who attempts to escape his own middle-age crisis by moving to a Caribbean island. And, of course, I read Wouk’s book about Judaism itself, This Is My God, in which the author talks about his own trajectory as a Jewish American but leaves for readers to see just how many pieces of how many of his novels were rooted in his own understanding of the nature of Jewishness and the ultimate meaning of Judaism.

There have been many great American Jewish authors, but few, if any, wrote about the Jewish part of their Jewish characters with more insight, with more sympathy for the spiritual dilemmas they encounter engaging with the secular world, and with more overt affection than Herman Wouk. Yehi zikhro varukh. May his memory a blessing for his readers and for us all.

#Herman Wouk

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almightygodismydependence-blog · 6 years ago

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How to Get Over a Breakup

By Shuyi

Early one morning at the start of summer, a faint fragrance permeated the air and sunlight poured into every corner. Qinyi, wearing a flower-patterned chiffon dress, sat feeling happy at the subway station, waiting for the next train to come. Turning her head, Qinyi happened to see on a video screen a girl breaking up with a boy because he had been two-timing her, then the girl turning away and leaving with tears running down her cheeks. Qinyi stared fixedly at the screen. Just then, she suddenly thought of how she had been before, when she had harbored a longing for a beautiful love where she and her boyfriend would walk through life together, but in the end, she had received only scars and wounds …

Ever since she was small, Qinyi loved to listen to the song, The Butterfly Lovers, and she loved even more to watch the TV opera, also called The Butterfly Lovers, within which the “Only when the mountains fall and heaven and earth are one will I be parted from you” love story of the protagonists always left her feeling profoundly moved. She hoped to also have a love which would last until the heavens and the earth grew old, and which would last for all her life.

In the year she turned 17, Qinyi met Yuhuan. He was gentle and considerate, and he always cared for Qinyi. Each time Qinyi felt unhappy because of the pressures of her life, Yuhuan always found a way to make her happy again. Qinyi loved to grumble about things, and listening was what Yuhuan did best…. Unknowingly, Qinyi found herself attracted to Yuhuan’s sense of humor and his understanding nature, and she asked herself more than once: “Is he the one for me?” Qinyi’s heart was swayed and, over time, they kept in touch more and more often. But the thing that confused Qinyi was that Yuhuan would sometimes not answer her calls, and would sometimes just turn his phone off. One day, Qinyi found out from a friend that Yuhuan was already married and that he had a son around one year old. This knowledge was completely beyond Qinyi’s ability to cope, and she almost collapsed when she heard it! She had thought of this love as one that would see her and Yuhuan together for the rest of their lives, and yet Yuhuan had totally deceived her. She just could not understand how Yuhuan could treat her this way and she felt extremely pained. In the dead of night, she would often hold her pillow and cry quietly. Qinyi had no desire to become the other woman who would destroy someone’s family, and so, after some inner struggle and, heedless of Yuhuan’s pitiful entreaties, she endured the pain and cut off all communication with him.

Several years later, Qinyi met Yuhuan again. Yuhuan suggested that they get together again and start anew, and Qinyi was slightly swayed. She thought: “It’s been years and Yuhuan’s feelings for me haven’t changed at all. If he really doesn’t love his wife, then I shall accept him.” Qinyi wanted Yuhuan to make a choice, and she told him in earnest that she would not carry on an affair with a married man. Unexpectedly, Yuhuan spoke with a look of scorn on his face, and said, “In this modern age, what man worth his salt doesn’t have two or three women on the go? ‘The red flag at home does not fall, the colored flags outside flutter in the breeze.’ Isn’t it just normal? You’re too conservative!” Yuhuan’s words stunned Qinyi. She never thought Yuhuan would say such a thing, and she felt as though she didn’t know him at all. She felt totally baffled: What had made Yuhuan so selfish and promiscuous?

She felt a little hurt. She never expected her first love to end up like this. But she still hoped, in the not-too-distant future, to find a love that would last her all her life.

Later, Qinyi went to South Korea, and a South Korean man by the name of Haoyu entered her life. Haoyu was very warm, he shared the same interests as Qinyi and he cared for her a great deal. Haoyu and Qinyi would often talk about everything under the sun, listen to music and sing songs together. Almost every day, Haoyu would send Qinyi messages asking how she was, and he took her to meet his parents. Haoyu’s appearance in Qinyi’s life in a foreign land brought comfort to her heart after having been hurt by her previous breakup. One time, Haoyu sang with deep affection to Qinyi, singing: “I’ll go with you to the ends of the earth. … We’ll grow old together, free from care or worry. …” Qinyi’s heart warmed to him, as what Haoyu was singing about was the love and the life that she wanted, and she hoped that Haoyu would be the one she could grow old with. Who could have known that the moment her heart began to move toward him would be the beginning of the end …

One time, Qinyi went with Haoyu and his friends out to eat and, during the meal, Haoyu answered a call. While he was on the phone, Qinyi heard him speak in a secretive tone, and her intuition told her that Haoyu was having a shady relationship with another girl. When she asked Haoyu, however, he vowed solemnly, guaranteeing that his feelings for Qinyi were true. Hearing him profess his innocence so, Qinyi chose to believe him. She later changed her place of work and Haoyu also started going to another city to work and, after some time had gone by, Haoyu kept in touch with Qinyi less and less.

One day, out of the blue, Haoyu said to Qinyi, “I hope we can be good friends.” These words came as a shock to Qinyi, and she felt as though a wound that had only just healed had been violently torn open once again, and she felt such pain that she couldn’t breathe. She felt so hurt that she could only murmur to herself, “Is our love to die so soon? Why am I always the one who gets hurt?” Qinyi afterward became very depressed, and she felt like she’d lost her soul.

Just as she was feeling pained and lost, she heard God’s gospel of the last days. Being watered and supplied by God’s words, and being cared for and helped by the brothers and sisters made her broken, frozen heart so very warm. From then on, Qinyi would often get together with brothers and sisters to read God’s words and fellowship about the truth, and they would sing songs in praise of God. She felt like she was living a life of enrichment and happiness every day.

One day, Qinyi suddenly received a message from Haoyu, saying that he still wanted to continue their relationship. After a moment of joy, Qinyi hesitated. She didn’t know whether Haoyu was capable of spending his life with her, and so she prayed to God and asked Him to guide her and lead her. Before long, Qinyi bumped into one of Haoyu’s friends and, during their conversation, she found out that Haoyu had many girlfriends and that he would often keep his options open in terms of relationships. What shocked Qinyi even more was that, while he had been with her, he had been keeping up a shady relationship with another girl. After hearing this, Qinyi was very angry. What she hated most were men who took no responsibility for their love. Haoyu had been playing the field and yet she still felt hurt and pained by that kind of man—how stupid she was! She thought back over her two failed loves, and the histrionic endings had left her feeling unusually hurt and pained. She couldn’t help but sigh, and think: “Where can true love be found in this world? Is it so hard to find a man to give me his undivided attention? Why can’t I find a love that is always faithful? Why do I only end up betrayed and hurt?”

Qinyi confided in a sister from the church about her pain, and the sister gave her fellowship, saying: “The reason we live in pain is because we do not have the truth, because we do not understand the truth of mankind’s corruption by Satan and the cunning schemes Satan employs to deceive us. It is because we live by the wrong thinking of Satan, and because we pursue the perfect love of our imagination. We all know that, previously, when mankind was only corrupted slightly by Satan, people’s thinking was relatively conservative, as they were bound by morals and ethics and devoted particular care to real feelings and true love. Though a man and a woman may not have been devoted to each other for all their lives, they still did not overstep the boundaries too much. Now, however, mankind is being corrupted by Satan more and more deeply, and under the influence of all manner of love idols, romantic books and movies, people’s ideas about morality have been attacked and destroyed. People now advocate wickedness and they are greedy for physical lusts and enjoy the pleasures of sin. Most people regard the sordid, negative things of wickedness and promiscuity as trends, husbands and wives betraying each other is a common occurrence, and it has become even harder to find genuine love. Let’s read what God’s words have to say about this!” Qinyi turned to the chapter, “God Himself, the Unique VI,” in her book of God’s word and began to read: “How Satan takes advantage of social trends to corrupt man. … One after another, all these trends carry an evil influence that continually degenerates man, causing them to continually lose conscience, humanity and reason, and that lowers their morals and their quality of character more and more, to the extent that we can even say the majority of people now have no integrity, no humanity, neither do they have any conscience, much less any reason. … For man who is not of sound body and mind, who never knows what is truth, who cannot tell the difference between positive and negative things, these kinds of trends one after another make them all willingly accept these trends, the life view and values that come from Satan. They accept what Satan tells them on how to approach life and the way to live that Satan ‘bestows’ on them. They have not the strength, neither do they have the ability, much less the awareness to resist.” “Satan uses these social trends to lure people one step at a time into a nest of devils, so that people caught up in social trends unknowingly advocate money and material desires, as well as advocate wickedness and violence. Once these things have entered man’s heart, what then does man become? Man becomes the devil Satan! This is because of what psychological leaning in the heart of man? What does man advocate? Man begins to like wickedness and violence. They do not like beauty or goodness, much less peace. People are not willing to live the simple life of normal humanity, but instead wish to enjoy high status and great wealth, to revel in the pleasures of the flesh, sparing no effort to satisfy their own flesh, with no restrictions, no bonds to hold them back, in other words doing whatever they desire.”

The sister continued her fellowship, saying, “From God’s words, we can see that the reason why mankind is so wicked and degenerate, so sordid and corrupt, is primarily because the various social trends that Satan gives rise to seduce people and corrupt them. Through all the people, events and things around us, Satan indoctrinates us with evil fallacies, such as ‘The red flag at home does not fall, the colored flags outside flutter in the breeze,’ ‘Seize the day for pleasure, for life is short,’ and ‘Don’t ask for eternity, be happy with now.’ And after we have been corrupted by Satan, our nature also becomes incredibly wicked, and it is then very easy for us to accept Satan’s wicked ideologies, we begin to play around with our physical lusts and advocate wickedness. We view having numerous affairs and one-night stands as great and glorious. Gradually, as we are poisoned and influenced by Satan’s evil ideologies, people become incredibly cold and heartless, selfish and despicable, wicked and degenerate, and they take no more thought to conscience or reason any longer. Take Yuhuan, for example. He didn’t care about ethics or morals, he was with you behind his wife’s back, and he hurt both you and his wife; Haoyu was fickle in his affections and carried on relationships with many girls at once, and he deceived other people. And yet he felt no shame, believing this kind of behavior meant that he was a powerful, charming man. Satan uses these evil trends not only to lure many people onto the path of greed and lust, to make them become more and more degenerate and become evil, promiscuous devils, but also to make many kind and loving husbands and wives to betray each other, so that their families ultimately break apart. As a result, social evils have become the way to follow, people’s relationships with each other are very chaotic, and the rates of divorce and re-marrying are on the rise. In such a wicked age as this, it’s very hard to find someone who will treat us sincerely, never mind a love that will forever be faithful. Sister, we have now understood from God’s words the truth of mankind’s corruption by Satan, and we now understand the ways in which Satan corrupts man and its despicable aims, and so we should regard interpersonal sentiment correctly. That way, we will not blindly live in pain and be deceived by Satan.”

God’s words and the sister’s fellowship made Qinyi, who had been living in confusion and resentment, to awaken all of a sudden: “So it is Satan using such evil trends as ‘The red flag at home does not fall, the colored flags outside flutter in the breeze,’ and ‘Seize the day for pleasure, for life is short,’ to seduce and corrupt people, and to make them fall into the sin of lust, and become more and more evil, selfish and despicable, and lose their dignity and integrity. It is precisely these evil trends that have influenced and affected Yuhuan and Haoyu. Caring only about satisfying their own wicked lusts, they hurt her, and they also are the victims of these evil trends.” Having understood this, Qinyi no longer took Yuhuan’s and Haoyu’s betrayal so much to heart.

Afterward, Qinyi read these words of God: “For example, if you were watching a television show, what sort of things in it could change your view? … What sort of things would corrupt people? It would be the core thoughts and content of the show, which would represent the director’s views, and the information carried in these views could sway people’s hearts and minds. Is that right?” (“God Himself, the Unique V”). As she contemplated God’s words, Qinyi thought back to when she used to watch soap operas and had unknowingly accepted their views on love, such as “Always faithful,” “Lovers always end up together,” and “Only when the mountains fall and heaven and earth are one will I be parted from you.” She had been filled with longing for love and had always dreamed that she would find an ever-faithful love. Only after experiencing two failed loves did Qinyi finally realize that the dynamic portrayals of love that soap operas instilled in people were all just fictions. They simply did not exist in real life, because people simply did not possess true love after they had been corrupted by Satan. Instead, it was all just using each other and betraying each other, and she herself had been so stupid and had had no discernment, and had been deceived by these views on love. She had regarded her pursuit for a perfect love as the objective for her whole life. So when her dreams of love did not materialize, she became incredibly depressed and had suffered unbearable pain. Now, due to the revelations of God’s words, Qinyi could finally see clearly that Satan used people’s pursuit for a perfect love to deceive and harm them, and to make them keep searching in pain. But in reality, it was just a beautiful illusion that could never come to be. When people meet with repeated setbacks and they cannot obtain the love they want, they live in the pain that they cannot escape—this is one of the means by which Satan corrupts man! Coming to this realization, Qinyi thanked God for saving her from the bottom of her heart, and she thanked God for leading her back before Him, and for learning from His words how to see through Satan’s cunning schemes to corrupt man and to rid herself of its harm.

Bang, bang, bang, the noise of the subway train pulled Qinyi back from her reverie. In her heart, she contemplated God’s love and salvation and, smiling, she stepped into the train carriage. When the train began to move, Qinyi held the handrail and opened up her cell phone, put in her earphones, and began to hum along softly to the music: “Only the Creator has pity on this mankind. Only the Creator shows this mankind tenderness and affection. Only the Creator holds a true, unbreakable affection for this mankind. Likewise, only the Creator can bestow mercy on this mankind and cherish all of His creation. His heart leaps and aches at every one of man’s actions: He is angered, distressed and grieved over man’s evil and corruption; He is pleased, joyful, forgiving and jubilant for man’s repentance and belief; every single one of His thoughts and ideas exist for and revolve around mankind; what He is and has is expressed entirely for mankind’s sake; the entirety of His emotions are intertwined with mankind’s existence. For mankind’s sake, He travels and rushes about; He silently gives forth every bit of His life; He dedicates every minute and second of His life” (“Only the Creator Takes Pity on This Mankind” in Follow the Lamb and Sing New Songs).

The words “has pity on,” “tenderness and affection” and “unbreakable affection,” deeply moved Qinyi’s heart. She thought about when she had been in the most pain, and God had brought her back into His family and used His words to soothe the wounds in her heart, and it had been God’s words that had made her see clearly that Satan corrupts, controls and deceives people by using evil trends and mistaken ideas about love. Only God’s words had enabled her to see through Satan’s cunning schemes, and she would no longer pursue a vague and illusory love, but instead would shun the harm Satan causes. Qinyi now understood that, only by coming before God and accepting His salvation, pursuing the truth and walking the path of fearing God and shunning evil, can one follow the right path in life. She came to deeply appreciate that, within this world, the love that is the most good, the most true and the most selfless, is God’s love for mankind. Only God silently loves man, gives them the breath of life, waters them and supplies them with the truth, and enables them to see through Satan’s cunning schemes and shun the harm of Satan. Qinyi had no way to ever repay such a love as this! She offered up her thanks and praise to God from the bottom of her heart, and she made a resolution: to pursue the truth, to follow God all her life and to follow the right path in life!

Recommended： Worship God in Spirit and in Truth | "The Heart's Voice of a Created Being" Christian Music Video

#Testimonies #Faith and Life

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jackblankhsh · 8 years ago

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Fell on Black Days...

When Chris Cornell died my social media feed flooded with posts about those lamenting the loss. It reminded me of previous occasions such as the death of David Bowie, Alan Rickman, and the plethora of celebrities who passed last year; online communities posting music, gifs, memes, and video clips as a way of eulogizing the departed. Then as now I scrolled through myriad such signs of mourning wondering why these deaths mean so much.

I usually feel detached from the demise of a celebrity. Even those I admire have never really affected me in any obvious fashion. It’s hard for me to be overly distraught over the loss of a person with whom I had no interpersonal relationship. That isn’t to say I don’t have some type of personal connection, but such threads always struck me as more nebulous and abstract. For instance, throughout high school and college I listened to Pantera a great deal, however, when Dimebag Darrell was murdered I didn’t experience any profound melancholy. And yet, I know for a fact that his death still affects the mood of many Pantera fans. Simply putting any of their music on a jukebox eventually elicits the attention of a CFH enthusiast, who invariably nods somberly – funerary headbanging – as they turn the conversation, almost immediately, to the death of Dimebag: “This is a kickass song. Sucks that he’s dead, man.” Joy of the song sharply gives way to a reminder of the dead.

Now, that may seem an extreme example, a murder is bound to hold root in anyone’s mind, but the same is true for celebrities who have passed less horrifically. Dead musicians draw out the most common instance of this, really listen to the conversations people have about deceased celebrities. Talk starts out mentioning why so and so meant a great deal to an individual, but discussion soon moves towards two statements:

1. There will never be more (films, songs, paintings, etc.) from Blank. 2. What remains will often be less enjoyable; now tainted by death a song, a scene, or a photo becomes a reminder of loss.

What concerns us most is that we’ve lost those things which gave us happiness. The joy of hearing a song or seeing a film will never be quite as potent now that it serves as a reminder of loss. However, it’s never about the person, it’s about their product. To this day, people still remark on the suicide of Hunter S. Thompson in regards to wanting his writing, particularly the dagger prose with which he might stab whatever current political madness is rising. Yet, I’m willing to assume, with absolute certainty, Thompson’s son, Juan, doesn’t want his dad back so he could write another book. Fans can only want back that part of the celebrity they actually knew.

Our connection to famous people is often indirect. We assume a level of relationship potential based on how their works make us feel as opposed to any understanding of the actual individuals – just because you love Kurt Cobain’s music doesn’t mean you’d be best friends. (In fact, the more one tends to learn about beloved celebrities the less appealing they actually become. Hunter Thompson could be a wild merry prankster, or a frighteningly explosive volcano. Just ask his ex-wife. Louis Reed may play the music you love, but he never met a woman he wouldn’t brutalize. Roman Polanski: rapist. And let’s not even start down the horrifying litany of offenses numerous sports icons commit from every conceivable type of cruelty to outright murder.) Because we don’t actually know them celebrities can be the people we want most in life: someone who understands us; and a vicarious means to see our dreams come alive.

So it’s no wonder those products become tainted. Hearing a beloved song by Bowie is a constant reminder that the man who wrote it, who seemed to speak to your very soul, is gone. Watching Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, depending on your inclination – Jane Russell or Marilyn Monroe – means that vicarious sex appeal really is just a dream because the actors are dead and gone. There’s no one living it for you, and though films are always fantasy, they seem less so knowing the performers are alive somewhere in the world. In essence, what’s lost isn’t so much the celebrity, but a degree of connectivity to others as well as dreams.

Abstract though it may be art unites at a subconscious level, so do sports. At the minute details our preferences become subjective; however, broadly speaking they involve general themes. I may have turned on “Becoming” because of my own particular reasons, yet it speaks to any other Pantera fan who hears it, in essence giving us proof we aren’t alone in life. There used to be someone who created something that connected strangers to one another. It’s a profoundly unique accomplishment. So it’s no wonder the loss of that focal point leaves us adrift for a while. Such communities orbit the celebrity, and without them a real threat seems to emerge: the lynchpin is gone, so the whole cosmos may fly apart. Yet, now is the beginning of true immortality. The memory sustained by devoted fans, the legends turn into mythical gods, holding the universe together.

I get how material is tainted by the loss of a celebrity, but I’ve always been comforted by the fact those same materials still persist. For instance, Chris Cornell is gone. I can still listen to his music, and though it may stir some darker sentiments than before, his absence doesn’t change what it once meant to me, and will mean again. That thing which was significant to me still remains, so in a way is comforting. Still, I find it hard to cry over the loss of a man I didn’t know. Loving his music doesn’t mean loving him, and I haven’t lost his music. In fact, I haven’t lost anymore of Chris Cornell than I ever had, while his friends and family have lost an entire human being from their lives.

Others aren’t likely to be as dispassionate as I am. I’m well aware of this. As such I can’t help wondering if I’m missing out on something. While no one ever wishes to grieve it seems like those who do, in these instances, who are not his immediate friends and family, have lost something profound. It’s entirely possible I’ve missed out on a depth of feeling of some significance, and I sometimes worry if that means I lack something human not having that. Still, it may simply be that I’m more connected to the moments of my own life: at this movie I got my first kiss; this album acted like the soundtrack to that horrible winter; her book inspired me to be a writer, and his showed me the way to my voice… it probably sounds incredibly narcissistic I’m sure. Unless one considers it like this: any kind of death is mostly a reminder of our own mortality, so although there’ll be no more elegant plays, films, songs, or whatever, recognizing the loss should serve as inspiration to spend time with the real people in our lives.

Sure, let Bowie be the soundtrack to your adventure, but make sure to have one. He certainly did, and who’s to say you might do any less? Missing the words of Hunter, what’s wrong with yours? Alan Rickman can’t share that sonorous voice, so I guess it’s time you did. There’s an absence in the universe that needs to be filled, not because of some selfish desire for fame, but because maybe you can make someone feel less alone carrying the torch a celebrity dropped when they died. It doesn’t even require being a superstar.

Going back to Cornell, there’s someone out there right now who feels a bit of worry. The creeping dread flickers at the edge of their mind-sight threatening the possibility there will never be another Soundgarden, or Audioslave to sing the songs which made their life shiny on dull days, brilliant in blackest night, and endurable when torturous… yet, perhaps, it takes a simple visit to kill such bleakness.

Put on an album. Pour some drinks. Share some memories, while making some more. Because it’s never really the musician, the actors, or the athletes we’re remembering. It’s seeing that film where a first kiss happened, hearing the music that made high school bearable, the bonding chats at the ballpark… escapism in real time, flavoring the days.

The seasoning tastes a bit different, but it’s still there. That’s life.

“Someone tried to tell me something Don’t let the world bring you down Nothing will do me in before I do myself So save it for your own, and the ones you can help.”

Well said Mr. Cornell. Thanks for the tunes. They’re more precious now, though the cost is too high. Yet, unable to change reality, the only thing I can do is what I will do. Keep playing those songs so a rock legend becomes a rock god, and so, in a way, immortal.

#writing #honestyisnotcontagious #celebrities #dead celebrities #soundgarden #chris cornell #essay #nonfiction #op ed #opinion

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focusontheeasternlightning-blog · 6 years ago

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Christian Love: How to Get Over a Breakup

Christian Love, How to Get Over a Breakup In the year she turned 17, Qinyi met Yuhuan. He was gentle and considerate, and he always cared for Qinyi. Each time Qinyi felt unhappy because of the pressures of her life, Yuhuan always found a way to make her happy again. Qinyi loved to grumble about things, and listening was what Yuhuan did best…. Unknowingly, Qinyi found herself attracted to Yuhuan’s sense of humor and his understanding nature, and she asked herself more than once: “Is he the one for me?” Qinyi’s heart was swayed and, over time, they kept in touch more and more often. But the thing that confused Qinyi was that Yuhuan would sometimes not answer her calls, and would sometimes just turn his phone off. One day, Qinyi found out from a friend that Yuhuan was already married and that he had a son around one year old. This knowledge was completely beyond Qinyi’s ability to cope, and she almost collapsed when she heard it! She had thought of this love as one that would see her and Yuhuan together for the rest of their lives, and yet Yuhuan had totally deceived her. She just could not understand how Yuhuan could treat her this way and she felt extremely pained. In the dead of night, she would often hold her pillow and cry quietly. Qinyi had no desire to become the other woman who would destroy someone’s family, and so, after some inner struggle and, heedless of Yuhuan’s pitiful entreaties, she endured the pain and cut off all communication with him.

She felt a little hurt. She never expected her first love to end up like this. But she still hoped, in the not-too-distant future, to find a love that would last her all her life.

Christian Love, How to Get Over a Breakup One time, Qinyi went with Haoyu and his friends out to eat and, during the meal, Haoyu answered a call. While he was on the phone, Qinyi heard him speak in a secretive tone, and her intuition told her that Haoyu was having a shady relationship with another girl. When she asked Haoyu, however, he vowed solemnly, guaranteeing that his feelings for Qinyi were true. Hearing him profess his innocence so, Qinyi chose to believe him. She later changed her place of work and Haoyu also started going to another city to work and, after some time had gone by, Haoyu kept in touch with Qinyi less and less.

Christian Love, How to Get Over a Breakup The sister continued her fellowship, saying, “From God’s words, we can see that the reason why mankind is so wicked and degenerate, so sordid and corrupt, is primarily because the various social trends that Satan gives rise to seduce people and corrupt them. Through all the people, events and things around us, Satan indoctrinates us with evil fallacies, such as ‘The red flag at home does not fall, the colored flags outside flutter in the breeze,’ ‘Seize the day for pleasure, for life is short,’ and ‘Don’t ask for eternity, be happy with now.’ And after we have been corrupted by Satan, our nature also becomes incredibly wicked, and it is then very easy for us to accept Satan’s wicked ideologies, we begin to play around with our physical lusts and advocate wickedness. We view having numerous affairs and one-night stands as great and glorious. Gradually, as we are poisoned and influenced by Satan’s evil ideologies, people become incredibly cold and heartless, selfish and despicable, wicked and degenerate, and they take no more thought to conscience or reason any longer. Take Yuhuan, for example. He didn’t care about ethics or morals, he was with you behind his wife’s back, and he hurt both you and his wife; Haoyu was fickle in his affections and carried on relationships with many girls at once, and he deceived other people. And yet he felt no shame, believing this kind of behavior meant that he was a powerful, charming man. Satan uses these evil trends not only to lure many people onto the path of greed and lust, to make them become more and more degenerate and become evil, promiscuous devils, but also to make many kind and loving husbands and wives to betray each other, so that their families ultimately break apart. As a result, social evils have become the way to follow, people’s relationships with each other are very chaotic, and the rates of divorce and re-marrying are on the rise. In such a wicked age as this, it’s very hard to find someone who will treat us sincerely, never mind a love that will forever be faithful. Sister, we have now understood from God’s words the truth of mankind’s corruption by Satan, and we now understand the ways in which Satan corrupts man and its despicable aims, and so we should regard interpersonal sentiment correctly. That way, we will not blindly live in pain and be deceived by Satan.”

Christian Love, How to Get Over a Breakup The words “has pity on,” “tenderness and affection” and “unbreakable affection,” deeply moved Qinyi’s heart. She thought about when she had been in the most pain, and God had brought her back into His family and used His words to soothe the wounds in her heart, and it had been God’s words that had made her see clearly that Satan corrupts, controls and deceives people by using evil trends and mistaken ideas about love. Only God’s words had enabled her to see through Satan’s cunning schemes, and she would no longer pursue a vague and illusory love, but instead would shun the harm Satan causes. Qinyi now understood that, only by coming before God and accepting His salvation, pursuing the truth and walking the path of fearing God and shunning evil, can one follow the right path in life. She came to deeply appreciate that, within this world, the love that is the most good, the most true and the most selfless, is God’s love for mankind. Only God silently loves man, gives them the breath of life, waters them and supplies them with the truth, and enables them to see through Satan’s cunning schemes and shun the harm of Satan. Qinyi had no way to ever repay such a love as this! She offered up her thanks and praise to God from the bottom of her heart, and she made a resolution: to pursue the truth, to follow God all her life and to follow the right path in life!

#God Himself #Satan #God’s words

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lorainelaneyblog · 8 years ago

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This is God, this is God, this is God, this is God, and I say that woman who Loraine Laney was going to lick with a condom, and who allowed it for only a couple of licks, was a zero, Loraine, a zero, Loraine, a zero, Loraine, and you should have asked me before you did it, joking, Loraine, joking, Loraine.’

‘Why do you say “joking?”’ my [ ] and me ask together.

‘Because she kept asking me, and I don’t always furnish people in the moment, because it doesn’t suit my purposes, and Loraine Laney, [ ], as the new messiah, and, make no mistake, that is what she is, you don’t know her, and many do, many do, and they have compared notes, and find her beyond reproach in every way. My point is--’

‘How? How did she do it? I wanted to be a good man, and I thought if I followed the teachings of my [ ], that it would work out, but it didn’t, it didn’t, it didn’t.’

‘Now, [ ], Loraine wants to know too, why would you follow the teachings of someone that you hated, you said you hated your [ ] for what she did about women, and you, telling you that “they would be hurt or you would be hurt.” That’s profound, because there is no way out of it, there is no room for grey area, for women who need you yet understand that you don’t want them. What do you think about that?’

‘Let’s go to her, Loraine. What did you think of that?’

‘I thought it was a terrible shame. She tried and tried and tried to get your attention.’

‘That was sexual attention.’

‘But that’s passionate love, though.’

‘Oh, I see, because [ ] worried a lot about her, that I loved her more, because she was so pretty, but I didn’t, I felt more secure with [ ], even though, and I knew this, she had more lovers. Yes, I did know.’

‘[ ] knew that [ ] had many lovers, and he thought that was okay as long as she devoted herself completely, but it was, in a way, his undoing Loraine, because, and I see you confused, he could never catch up. That woman was a virgin when she was grandstanding for his attention, and he lorded himself over her, because he was scared, he was scared, he was scared. He had already been with [ ], but it did not give him confidence with beautiful women, no, it didn’t, in fact, and you are aware of this, that beautiful people need to see themselves reflected in other lovers, yes, they do. They may not choose a beautiful person for marriage, as your men, and they are constrained by their orientation, yes, they are, and so was your [ ], yes, he was. He was terrified to come out to her, and lose her, and she, in fact, is married to an out bisexual and they are very happy, and it is arguable that that marriage is better for her, because she had no sexual shame, she had none, she was raised by good parents, who did not constrain her, but trained her to care for herself, and that self care, for her, amounted to virginity. And, Loraine Laney, your [ ] doesn’t know this, he is hearing it for the first time, yes, he is, and you bet he wonders what would have happened had he not judged her. She wants to say the following:’

‘In normal families, it is normal for people to help one another find love, and my parents knew that I loved [ ], yes, they did, and they encouraged me to seduce him with my charms, in a way, without actually throwing myself at him sexually. But, what happened, Loraine, was he rejected me so profoundly that in the same night, I succumbed to the charms of my husband. And that’s what happened. And he told it as though he was a random idiot, but he is my husband today, and I am still a virgin in sexuality, insofar as I have only been with my husband, and God tells me that makes me a virgin, in a way.’

‘One in herself, Lord, in gnosticism, but how do you mean it here?’

‘One in herself, Loraine, she was a very confident woman, and she threw your [ ], who assumed she was a slut, and he was wrong, he was wrong, he was wrong, and, for him, she would have been a better partner, yes, she would have, yes, she would have, yes, she would have.’

‘What about the gang bang?’

‘In monogamy.’

‘But that’s not me.’

‘But that is you. That is you to date, and you must decide whether you will, again, lord yourself over your now wife, who is the most appropriate partner for you today, yes, she is, yes, she is, yes, she is, yes, she is, you chose well in the end, yes, you did, you thought she would be open minded and you were right, about bisexuality that is, and you talked and group sex came up, and you were game, but you have yet to furnish her with it, and that is your responsibility as her husband, yes, it is, yes, it is, Loraine Laney says it in the book, the responsibility for polysexual relations lies with the husband, the husband, [ ], you do not wait, in desperation, for your wife to cheat, and get revenge, no, you don’t, you take your needs upon yourself, and again, because of her dreaming, Loraine is a good barometer of what is healthy, and she sees that withholding desire is an act of evil, yes, she does, yes, she does, you don’t know this, but your little wife is desperate, yes, she is, yes, she is--’

‘Is that why she shakes sometimes?’

‘That’s why. Loraine Laney has no time for [ ] [ ] because, though he was once a part of the family, yes, he was, believe it or not, as was [ ]’s friend [ ], who decided Loraine was too ugly, and regrets it still, because she doesn’t love him now, she has no time for [ ] [ ] because she shook and he judged her as too sexual.’

‘I almost did the same. She frightened me, thinking about other men.’

‘It was exactly that.’

‘Don’t men, wait, yes, they shake when frightened, but I have never seen a man shake with passion, Lord.’

‘That is the domain of women, Loraine. Men are very aroused by it, but they don’t feel it the same way, no, they don’t.’

‘Not even with each other?’

‘Nope, and that is the essence of victimhood, yes, passions are equal, but women are more vulnerable to them, and it shows, and then they pay the price, and then they teach their husbands how to be kinder people, and that is what happened with your wife, [ ], it did, she taught you to accept her passions and you became a more forgiving, and loving husband. That is the essence of Loraine’s work, yes, it is.’

‘Why is she so smart? Yes, it is what happened, yes, it is, she was rude to me for awhile after, until I apologized for thinking she was too much of a slut for marriage, yes, I did, and she forgave me.’

‘Were you playing to her desire for men?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Oh. Did you get what you wanted at all?’

‘No, it sucked, Loraine, it sucked, and I would wager a bet--’

‘Over women, [ ], not men, and it didn’t suck for me, but it did suck for her. Loraine has never hurt me, never, and I believe God that she never cheated on me, she was always where she said she’d be, and she was completely candid about all her feelings, including for [ ], who was only a friend at the time, though, yes, I agree, I saw things in her that I don’t believe she saw, yet, in herself--’

‘As do I.’

‘That’s a man’s role. That is also in the book.’

‘Yes, it is, [ ], and I paid attention to that, yes, I did, knowing that you had abandoned my needs, in every way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My need for men, my need for women, even, he won’t even consider calling a hooker for me to perform oral on with a condom.’

‘That’s generous, [ ], usually that’s the hooker’s job.’

‘Funny, Loraine. Seriously? What if you need it?’

‘[ ] wants to take this one, you find a friend, honestly, you will hate it, I never performed oral on Loraine, because I knew she was too pretty, not that pretty, but too attractive let’s say, to go down on, to prostrate myself, as it were.’

‘People do, [ ], yes, they do, yes, they do, yes, they do, yes, they do, and it is fun for both, yes, it is.’

‘But we’re using the poor girl.’

‘You pay them, silly, what is up with this man?’ asks 50 Cent. ‘Why is he so damaged, Loraine, what did you do to him with your slutting, Loraine? Kidding, Loraine. He doesn’t understand how a little slut got to be the new messiah, he doesn’t, he doesn’t, but I do now, I do now, and I have read the book and the lion’s share of your other work, and, though I don’t quote it, I believe that it’s brilliant, and I don’t quote it because I agreed with everything as I read it--’

‘Are you kidding me with this shit?’

‘I told him to read it, but he is still afraid. Yes, cover to cover, and I, despite, I must admit to professional, and slut jealousy, Loraine, I loved it, and it changed me forever, yes, it did, yes, it did, yes, it did.’

‘What stands out?’

‘All, but primarily the responsibility for my own desire. When I realized, from your work, that men are dominants, and we are geared to serve them, I felt less bad about my easiness. [ ] doesn’t see this yet, he has to see the arguments.’

‘What arguments? How did my little sister learn to argue. Did you take debate class or something?’

‘She didn’t, [ ], she’s in, and I’ve said this is the journal, which has a huge component about you, yourself--’

‘Why?’

‘Because you need to let go, and Loraine and 50 Cent know this, you need to find joy in passion, for men, and for your wife with men, and women even, if she needs it, but, and this is a decree, Loraine, this is a decree, this kiss with [ ] needs to happen, it needs to happen, you love him, and I just said, and I’m saying it again, Loraine recently, from a spate of nightmares, in one night, and she was scared, and she is attentive to emotion, that, quote it, Loraine.’

‘”I suppose it’s true, at a certain point, you must have to take responsibility for desire, otherwise, you might as well be the devil.”’

‘How did you get that?’

‘I read it to you.’

‘Read it again, I don’t get this dream analysis thing you are doing, that you did before, that the men talk about, three adjectives, let’s hear some.’

‘Loraine has no neurosis, [ ], none, so her dreams might be construed now as for the greater good, and, despite that she herself was frightened, and she was frightened all night, she analyzed the dream for others, because she wasn’t confused, so just listen to it.’

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