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embodyingchaos · 1 year ago

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❥ evermore | chapter two

pairing: george weasley x oc genre: friends to lovers! warnings: unedited word count: 2.1k masterlist: evermore last chapter: chapter one next chapter: chapter three

THE JOURNEY FROM the train station to hogwarts was a first experience nobody could ever repeat. genesis was having the time of her life admiring the scenery as she rode in a boat with her sister, hermione and the boy who had lost his toad named neville longbottom.

yes, you read right. she found her sister at last.

walking through the main entrance, which was a door five times their size, they were told to walk up the main staircase until they reached the great hall. there they would meet professor mcgonagall, and meet they did.

“welcome to hogwarts.” the witch draped in green robes with a pointy hat placed atop her head, presumably professor mcgonagall, greeted the group of first years with a small smile. “now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates but before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. they are gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw and slytherin.” as the professor continued her explanation, genesis glanced downwards to the ground.

she squinted her eyes, spotting something dark and glistening on the ground. when it started to move, genesis realised what it was. she gave neville’s elbow a light tap, “neville, isn’t that your toad?” she quietly asked, pointing at the creature.

neville’s eyes widened and he leapt forward just as mcgonagall finished talking. “trevor!” he exclaimed, kneeling on the ground, cradling the amphibian in his hands. as the boy stood up, he apologised before retreating back to his original spot next to the blue-eyed girl.

with that, the professor left to finish preparing the sorting ceremony for them. lovelynn could barely contain her excitement.

“ugh, i wanna go in already! it’s taking too long!”

“lovey, it’s been 30 seconds since she’s left.”

“yeah! 30 seconds of my life wasted when it could have been spent getting sorted into my house!” genesis could only roll her eyes at her sister’s dramatics.

suddenly, a boy with platinum blonde hair spoke up. “it's true then, what they're saying on the train.” he started, walking towards harry. “harry potter has come to hogwarts.” the boy’s simple sentence has the entire group of first year students bursting into murmurs and gasps.

“this is crabbe and goyle, and i’m malfoy. draco malfoy.” the random pause for dramatic effect has both ron and lovelynn snorting, stifling their laughter.

malfoy looked between the two, “think my name’s funny, do you?” he asked, sending them glares. “i’ve no need to ask yours. red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? you must be a weasley.” the blonde sneered at ron, who only frowned at him. “hey, now. there’s no need for aggression.” genesis spoke up but malfoy only snapped his head at her.

“i wasn’t speaking to you.” at his comment, the girl raised her hands as if to say ‘alright, i surrender, geez.’ as the boy turned back towards harry, who wasn’t enjoying this one bit.

“we’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, potter. you don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.” malfoy said, referring to ron. “i can help you there.” harry only stared at the blonde’s extended hand before deciding that he was the wrong sort.

“i think i can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” the two’s conversation was cut short by professor mcgonagall coming back, eyeing malfoy as he walked back to his original spot but not without giving harry a sort-of determined look, a look that would prove to be one that would follow the scar-headed boy for the rest of his years in hogwarts, but lets not get ahead of ourselves.

the first years walked into the great hall, lined up in pairs of two. genesis walked beside hermione as lovelynn walked beside neville.

the bushy-haired girl noticed genesis staring up at the ceiling, mesmerised at the floating candles and night sky- wait, night sky? “it’s not real, the ceiling, it’s just bewitched to look like the night sky.” hermione explained, “i’ve read about it in-” “hogwarts: a history?” genesis asked, cutting her off. the girl looked taken aback for a moment before giving her a wide smile, “so, you’ve read it, huh?” genesis grinned, answering with a ‘possibly’.

the group gathered along the platform as a wizard’s hat on a stool was before them.

“now, before we begin, professor dumbledore would like to say a few words.” these few notices would consist of few notices such as staying out of the dark forest (which applies to all students), and the fact that the third floor corridor is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.

lovelynn grumbled, “talk about a warm welcome.” she snorted to neville, who only stared at her with a confused expression.

as the headmaster finished his tiny speech, professor mcgonagall unravelled a scroll. “now, when i call your name, you will come forth. i shall place the sorting hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses.” genesis took a deep breath, it was finally time.

with each person getting called, the more nervous the brunette got. especially when her sister was called and sorted into, predictably, gryffindor.

“yes!” lovelynn exclaimed, almost accidentally dashing off with the sorting hat still attached to her head. she sat between neville and a boy named seamus finnigan.

“genesis heath.” hearing her name being called had her heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach.

she slowly walked up the platform, trying her best to keep her breathing steady and quiet. “another heath in a row? how quaint.” the hat started it’s judgement.

“the quieter one, the one easier to pick on, but nonetheless, the one who stands her ground. the one who is bolder and firm, the one who will live on to do great things. things that could change our world. i find it a bit peculiar to place you in ravenclaw, especially apart from your sister whom you seem inseparable from. i guess i’ll put you in gryffindor!” the sigh of relief that left genesis’ lips was only a big clue to the obvious, she was happy to just be sorted into the same house as her sister.

as she walked towards the table, lovelynn stood up again and wrapped her in a big hug. “we’re together! and now there’s like three sets of twins in this house.” she told her with a big grin, finding the random fact amusing.

genesis had gone to sit beside hermione and lovelynn had decided to sit beside her sister and neville longbottom.

after a few minutes of waiting and watching harry potter get sorted(into gryffindor, no surprise) the feast had begun.

genesis wasn’t particularly hungry since she was still feeling rather anxious.

“come on, now. you’ve got to eat something. you’re going to complain later that you’re starving.” lovelynn told her, muffled by the food in her mouth. the girl stared at her with disgust. “i was going to eat something but now that i’ve looked at you, i’ve lost my appetite.” genesis’ comment has ron’s older twin brothers snickering.

the two turned to them and then to ron, “don’t mind them. they find everything humorous.” he said with his cheeks stuffed.

“i’m ron weasley, by the way. i met your sister on the train.” he said to the other twin, “i’m lovelynn heath! nice to meet you, ron.” her enthusiasm makes ron baffled, as she was completely different from her sister.

the weasley twins smiled at them, “i’m fred,” “and i’m george.” they introduced themselves continuously, lovelynn beamed at that.

with a gasp, “we should try doing tha-” “no.” genesis turned her down without even thinking twice. her immediate answer has lovelynn pouting, “you’re no fun.” she complained, “i’m lovelynn, this is genesis. she’s the lesser fun twin.” the short-haired twin emphasised on the word ‘lesser’. “yes. yes, i am.” genesis agreed with a toothy smile, having no problem with the insult.

fred and george chuckles, “well, then, i think you’d fit great with us.” “we’re the most fun pair of twins.” “more like the most getting into trouble pair of twins.” ron’s other older brother, percy, butts in, making lovelynn giggle and genesis smile.

as the dinner went on, ron let out a loud yelp as a ghostly figure’s head popped through their table.

“hello! how are you? welcome to gryffindor!” and after him, came more ghosts from around the hall, or you could say through the hall.

genesis beamed at the sight, “ghosts?! kind of scary.” lovelynn commented, “they aren’t that scary. they aren’t suppose to be hostile.” her twin informed, george turned to look at her. “well, if you don’t count peeves that is.” fred said just as he was about to speak, “peeves is more trouble than we are, though the bloody baron can always keep him in check.” george explained, taking a bite out of his garlic bread.

“hello, sir nicholas. have a nice summer?” percy asked the ghost head that popped through their table, “dismal. once again my request to join the headless hunt has been denied.” he told the boy in an unsatisfied tone before slowly floating away.

genesis’ eyes slowly widened in realisation, “wait a minute, i know you! you’re-” “nearly headless nick!” ron yelled out, cutting the girl off. “i prefer sir nicholas if you don’t mind.” sir nicholas sassed, the annoyance extremely clear on his features. “who?” lovelynn asked, mouth filled with food once more.

“sir nicholas de mimsy-porpington.” her younger sister’s reply has her staring with a blank expression.

“my god, you’re a walking enclopyedia.”

genesis scoffed, “you asked.” she replied back.

“nearly headless? how can you be nearly headless?” hermione’s question has harry rolling his eyes and genesis cringing due to knowing exactly how he’s nearly headless. “like this.” sir nicholas proceeded to tilt his head to the side before it suddenly popped off, hanging onto his body only by a little bit of flesh. ron yelled out in shock as hermione and harry grimaced. the twins only stared, completely indifferent and taking bites out of their food.

“improper decapitation certainly is the worst.” genesis sighed and shook her head while sir nicholas popped his head back on. “it certainly is, ms. heath.” he agreed before taking his leave.

lovelynn shivered, “that is not something you want to see while eating.” she muttered, suddenly not in the mood for her minced pie. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. i am suddenly starving.” genesis grinned, stealing her sister’s minced pie before taking a huge bite from it.

after dinner, the first years were all set to follow percy to their common room. lovelynn stared at the moving staircases with incredulity. “if they move all the time, how do we know when it’ll lead to the place we want to go?” she whispered to her sister, “schedules.” genesis simply answered, staring at the moving paintings they passed by. the older only stared at her weirdly, not understanding what she meant by ‘schedules’.

when they reached their common room with the usage of their password ‘caput draconis’, they headed straight for their dorms. genesis was relieved to know she’d be sharing a dorm room with her sister and hermione, people she was familiar with. their other dormmates were lavender brown and emma joyce.

“genny, look who it is!” lovelynn exclaimed loudly, pointing her attention to something that sat on her bed. not only did ‘genny’ turn to look but all the girls did, and they were greeted with the delightful sight of the twins’ cream-coloured, fluffy maine coone kitten, carlyle(who didn’t look like a kitten at all since maine coones grew very quickly).

“oh my stars! carlyle!” genesis cried out, approaching the well-groomed kitten and giving him a pat. “aw, he’s adorable.” hermione complimented, smiling at the sight. “he is, isn’t he? he’s also apparently allowed to roam hogwarts on his own which is nice for him since he enjoys watching people study.” genesis explained, lovelynn snorted before leaning towards the other girls. “guess how we found out about that.” she muttered, gesturing to the fact that carlyle started accompanying genesis during her long nights of going through her hogwarts books and has been hooked on watching people read or study ever since.

the girls had decided to wash up and hurry off to bed, figuring they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow and that it was best they slept early.

lovelynn was the only one to disagree but was the first to start snoring off into dream land, leaving genesis to stare at her sister with a look of utter disbelief and endearment.

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dfroza · 2 years ago

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A look at the Genesis design of marriage

(A lifelong covenant of trust shared between A man & woman)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 19th chapter of the book of Matthew:

After Jesus had finished His teaching about forgiveness, He left Galilee and He went to the section of Judea on the other side of the Jordan River. Large crowds followed Him, and when He got to Judea, He set about healing them.

So some Pharisees approached Jesus and asked Him this tricky question about divorce:

Pharisees: Is it ever lawful for a man to divorce his wife?

Jesus: Haven’t you read that in the beginning God created humanity male and female? Don’t you remember what the story of our creation tells us about marriage? “For this reason, a man will leave his mother and father and cleave to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” If a husband and wife are one flesh, how can they divorce? Divorce would be a bloody amputation, would it not? “What God has brought together, let no man separate.”

Pharisees: Why did Moses explain that if a man leaves his wife, then he must give her a certificate of divorce and send her away, free and clear of him?

Jesus: Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But divorce was an innovation, an accommodation to a fallen world. There was no divorce at creation. Listen, friends: if you leave your wife, unless there is adultery, and then marry another woman, you yourself are committing adultery. Only if there is adultery can you divorce your wife.

Disciples: If this is how it is, then it is better to avoid marrying in the first place.

Jesus: Not everyone can hear this teaching, only those to whom it has been given. Some people do not marry, of course. Some people are eunuchs because they are born that way, others have been made eunuchs by men, and others have renounced marriage for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Anyone who can embrace that call should do so.

At this, some of Jesus’ followers brought their children before Jesus; they wanted Him to place His hands on the children and pray for them. Some of the disciples, mistakenly thinking that Jesus wouldn’t want to be bothered with the likes of children, began to rebuke the crowd.

Jesus: Let the little children come to Me; do not get in their way. For the kingdom of heaven belongs to children like these.

He laid His hands on them, He prayed with them, and then He left that spot and went elsewhere. Then a young man came up to Jesus.

Young Man: Teacher, what good deed can I do to assure myself eternal life?

Jesus: Strange that you should ask Me what is good. There is only One who is good. If you want to participate in His divine life, obey the Commandments.

Young Man: Which Commandments in particular?

Jesus: Well, to begin with, do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as yourself.

Young Man: I’ve kept those Commandments faithfully. What else do I need to do?

Jesus: If you want to be perfect, go and sell all your possessions and give all your money to the poor; then you will have treasure in heaven. And then come, follow Me.

The young man went away sad because he was very wealthy indeed.

Jesus: This is the truth: it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Yes, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

The disciples, hearing this, were stunned.

Disciples: Who then can be saved?

Jesus: People cannot save themselves. But with God, all things are possible.

Peter: You just told that man to leave everything and follow You. Well, all of us have done just that. So what should we be expecting?

Jesus: I tell you this. When creation is consummated and all things are renewed, when the Son of Man sits on His throne in glory, you who have followed Me will also sit on thrones. There will be twelve thrones, and you will sit and judge the twelve tribes of Israel. You who have left your house and your fields, or your brothers and sisters, or your father and mother, or even your children in order to follow Me, at that time when all is renewed, you will receive so much more: you will receive 100 times what you gave up. You will inherit eternal life. Many of those who are the first will be last, and those who are the last will be first.

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 19 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Why? Because adultery itself is the divorce. Adultery is the thing that breaks the bond of marriage. Just as an excommunication merely recognizes the fact that someone has already been removed from the people, a divorce merely legalizes what harlotry has created. But should someone leave his wife for any other reason—because he has nothing to say to her, because she continually burns his food, because she is profligate with the household resources, because he simply cannot stand the sight of her—this is outside of the message Jesus offers here. If we behave as if a marriage has been undone—indeed, some may believe that a marriage has been undone—then we are deluding ourselves. In the eyes of God, the marriage bonds still hold a man to his wife.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 15th chapter of the book of Job with points made by Eliphaz:

Eliphaz reiterated his points.

Eliphaz: Does a wise man reply with windy knowledge

and fill up his belly with the hot east wind?

Does a wise man reason with impotent chatter,

with bankrupt words of no account?

Indeed, Job, you have ignored your responsibility to revere God

and depreciated your own thoughts toward God;

For your faults inform your speech,

and your language is tricky.

Your own mouth condemns you, not I;

your own lips volunteer as witnesses against you.

Were you the firstborn among men?

Were you introduced to the earth before the hills were conceived?

Were you allowed to listen in on the deliberations in God’s assembly?

Do you imagine all knowledge to be confined to you and you only?

What do you know that we don’t know?

Do you have an understanding that has somehow eluded us?

We have gray hairs and elders among us

weighed down with years,

heavier than your father.

Do you find God’s many comforts too meager

and His gentle speech to you too mild?

What has stripped you of your reason, carried away your heart?

Why do your eyes flash with anger—

So much so that you unleash your spirit

and spray out such speeches against God?

What is humankind, that people would be considered pure?

And among those born of women,

who could possibly be innocent?

Look, if God refuses to trust even His holy attendants,

if even the heavens above are impure in His eyes,

Then how much less regard must He show for humankind, who is base and corrupt,

or for Adam’s children who drink sin like water.

Eliphaz: I will tell it like it is, so listen.

I’ll recount what I have seen:

The very things that knowledgeable men have declared

and which they do not hide that they heard from their fathers

To whom the land was granted long ago

when no foreigners were among them.

The wicked man endures misery his whole life long;

and many years of sorrow are stored up for the ruthless.

His ears are assailed by the sounds of terror;

but when he is finally at peace, the destroyer seizes him.

Unsure that he will ever escape darkness,

he lives ever-conscious of the sword.

He wanders aimlessly in search of food.

“Where is it?” he asks.

He knows all the while that the great day of darkness is imminent.

He is addled by strain and anxiety, terrified;

he will be overwhelmed as if by a king about to descend upon his enemy in war.

For he raises his fist to God

and acts arrogantly like a hero against the Highest One.

He runs at Him, headlong, headstrong,

and leads his charge behind the thick protection of a massive shield.

Strong and healthy, he has nourished himself well and prospered

until his face and his thighs are pleasantly fat.

He lodges in evacuated towns in empty houses unfit for habitation,

in buildings condemned to rubble and ruin.

He will never be rich; his wealth will not last,

nor will he have possessions enough for any to put down roots.

He will not manage to escape from darkness,

as it scorches like tender branches that wilt in the flame;

He will blow away like the breath of his mouth.

Don’t let him fool himself;

if he trusts in the emptiness of his vanity,

emptiness will be his reward.

Before his time is up, it will all be finished

and the branches of his trees will never leaf out.

He will be like the vine that drops its immature grapes,

the olive tree that sheds its own blossoms.

O the gathering of the godless is unfruitful,

and fire consumes the tents of those who pervert justice by giving bribes.

Their intercourse yields only the conception of misconduct,

the birth of sinfulness,

and their wombs carry only lies to term.

The Book of Job, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Genesis 6:1–4 tells the strange story of God’s own heavenly messengers procreating with beautiful human women. Such a union was obviously forbidden, possibly because it endowed the children with eternal life, based on God’s response to the situation—limiting the lifespan of humans to 120 years. As Job has revealed, these heavenly messengers are with God all the time. They do His bidding. No one could possibly know His rules better than they do or have more motivation to follow them, yet they still chose to disobey God. Eliphaz’s point is clear: no human could possibly claim to be above the temptation to sin when God’s heavenly envoys are not.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, may 10 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about what we see in the “mirror” of the eternal Word:

"When you read God's Word ... continually to say to yourself: It is I to whom it is speaking - this is earnestness, precisely this is earnestness. This is most crucial, as unconditionally the condition if you are to come to see yourself in the mirror." - Kierkegaard

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"Our Lord Jesus oftentimes said, 'This I am. This I am. I am what you love. I am what you enjoy. I am what you serve. I am what you long for. I am what you desire. I am what you intend. I am all that is’" (Julian of Norwich). Amen to such beautiful words. And we should attend to stirring of our hearts, our deepest desires, since they ultimately find their end in God. As C.S. Lewis noted, our longing for a love which no experience in this world can fully satisfy is a sign that were made for God's eternal love.

You seek beauty, peace, love, and life, but the Lord says that he is the substance and heart of all these things... The lilies of the field do not toil but are arrayed in God's pleasure and design; the birds do not store up their food in barns but are sustained to take wing in the winds of God's hovering presence. Every hair on your head is numbered; there is not a word on your tongue unheard by your Heavenly Father.

Imagine Yeshua saying the following words directly to you: "I am the bread of life. I am the substance of what satisfies your hunger. I am essential for life. I am the manna that comes down from heaven to feed you and make you forever alive. I give you sustenance and strength; I will give you living water that will be like an oasis for your heart - the Spirit of Life that will comfort you. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. I alone can satisfy your deepest needs and longings. I am Life itself, the source and blessing of all that is good and worthy and true.

I am the light of the world. I give to you the light of life. My presence will guide your way. I will turn your darkness into light. In me is the fountain of life; in my light you shall receive light... I will give you a heart to know me. I am the Word of God: the Voice and revelation of the LORD, the Source of all truth. I am the LORD who brings you out of the darkness of your bondage; I am the one who redeems you, the one who atones for you, the one who suffers and dies for you to remove what separates you from God's Presence. I am the Father who receives you with open arms; I sacrifice the fattened calf to celebrate the blessing of your life... I am the LORD your healer; I sanctify you in my love.

I am the gateway to life, the door that opens to the Kingdom of Heaven. I am the way to know the Father's heart; I express the truth of God in who I am; I am the resurrection of God: No one can enter the kingdom apart from me. I am the LORD and there is no Savior apart from me. Do not be afraid: I will hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you." I am the Good Shepherd who guards each one of his flock.

I am your way to connect with God. I am the true Vine. Live in me and I will live in you. I will never leave nor forsake you. Draw near to me: lean upon my bosom. I will teach you what love means. Find comfort in my love for you. Then you will be able to love others and glorify the truth of my heart's passion for all people."

Yeshua is the way, the truth, and the love for which our heart cries out. In Him we "live and move and have our being." He is the Alef and Tav, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End, and the Sacred Center of all that exists. His heart is our "all in all," the fullness of all that will ever mean anything at any time. "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he grazes among the lilies." May you open your heart and draw near to him today. Amen.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Jer. 31:3b reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer31-3b-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer31-3b-lesson.pdf

5.9.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365:

The Hebrew word achdut, “unity,” is based on the word echad. The sages teach that when the children of Israel stood at the bottom of Mount Sinai they achieved extraordinary achdut, joining together “like one person with one heart.” In the merit of this unity, they received the Bible from God.

Unity, however, can also be used for negative purposes. At the beginning of the story of the Tower of Babel, we read “Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words” (Genesis 11:1). Commendably, the people of that generation joined together as one, but then tragically worked together to rebel against their Creator. Mankind must unite, but only to perform God’s will.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

May 10, 2023

The Father's Love for the Son

“And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17)

In this remarkable verse, God the Father, speaking from heaven itself, introduces His beloved Son to the world. This is the first New Testament reference to “love,” just as the Father’s love for the Son was the first love that ever existed. As Christ prayed in the upper room, “For thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world” (John 17:24).

There are many other references to the Father’s love for the Son, including two to the voice at His baptism (Mark 1:11; Luke 3:22) and two more in the upper room prayer (John 17:23, 26). One great reason for that love is the following: “Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life” (John 10:17).

The extent of the Father’s love for His blessed Son was all-encompassing. “The Father loveth the Son, and hath given all things into his hand” (John 3:35). Furthermore, “the Father loveth the Son, and showeth Him all things that Himself doeth” (John 5:20).

God also spoke of His “beloved Son” on the Mount of Transfiguration, as cited four times (Matthew 17:5; Mark 9:7; Luke 9:35; 2 Peter 1:17). Thus, there are seven references in the New Testament to the Father’s heavenly testimony to His beloved Son. Similarly, there are seven passages where the Son Himself testifies of that Fatherly love. In addition to the six cited above, Christ said, “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you” (John 15:9).

Seven testimonies from the Father and seven from the Son! Surely the Father loved the Son with a perfect love. And yet—“Herein is love...that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). Such love for unworthy sinners merits nothing less than total thanksgiving from us. HMM

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prismaticpichu · 3 years ago

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Heya!!! If you’re reading this, that means there’s at least a tinnnyy thread of interest that we share—and if we share some interests, then there’s prolly a chance you like FF7 fics just like me! Over the past year I’ve gotten the opportunity to explore so many different works and their styles, some of which have helped me grow so much as a writer! It’s more than just that though: these stories have been such hot water bottles to me, and I thank all these people with every molecule of my soul for letting me drown myself in fics of my favorite Oreo <3 <3 (That’s Sephiroth btw, I realized I’m the only person who’d undestand that.

Some of my personal recommendations! These people have written amazing things that deserve recognition and love! Yeah it’s just fanfiction, but this is my LIFEBLOOD <3

x~x~x

@digitalcactuswriting - Scientifically impossible not to smile with their works! “Go the F*ck to Sleep” was a cozy, hilarious Nibelheim-dodging story where the title says it all and “Haunted Cloud Strife doll that drinks all your pepsi” is brillliiant! Sephiroth’s nonchalance towards a vengeful stuffie is just golden xD I love them to death! There’s then “I see your star”, which is not focused on humor, but one of the most beautiful and artistic pieces of writing I’ve ever read. I recommend it x100!

@ryvian - My Zack & Seph buddy!!! I wanna burst into confetti after every precious chapter of “First Class.” The fact that they are exclusive to the OG universe creates an amazingly authentic feel to everything written, and the dynamic between these two beans is just like how two dorks should be! <3

@altocat - The first time I have ever shed a tear over a book was while reading “A Monster’s Threads”, which is a novelization recounting every scar, backstab, and lie Sephiroth ever had to endure. It is FUDGING BEAUTIFUL ;-; There is not a single beat of his life missing and every chapter is bleeeeding with emotion, My voice is gonna chip just thinking about it ;-; “Footfalls” is another personal favorite of mine, and perfectly massages the sweet spot in my heart for Zack & Seph <3 <3 <3 The imagery and craft of every story alone is GORGEOUS ;-; ;-; ;-; You will feel it all the way done to your bones!

@crisisemblem - “A Requiem of Daybreak” is only just taking off, but gosh darn it is starting strong!!! <3 Sephiroth’s characterization and heartbreak over Genesis and Angeal deserting is some of my absolute favorite, and there’s even adorable Zack & Seph scenes! Squeeeeeee!!!! <3 Even better, we have Aerith saving the day this time! I love it I love it I love it!!! It is also another beautifully written story <3

@autumnalblep - “Thing With Feathers” was something I missed a whole night of sleep reading from start to present update. I was NUMB with emotion the whole way through, and the way Sephiroth’s depression is written is just shattering beyond words I can even express ;-; I think this has to be the best Genesis, Angeal & Seph friendship story I have ever read <3 <3 There is no shortage of puppy either!! The pacing in this story is PERFECTION as we see Zack slowly rekindle his bond with his mentor, and, best of all, guide Genesis during his recovery. Genesis’s redemption is absolutely fudging magical ;-;

Finally, all of LuckyLadybug’s FF7 stories on FanFiction.Net. - I. was. OBSESSED. BEYOND OBSESSED. These stories were single-handedly the catalyst to my Zack & Seph obsession, and I think the amount of times I’ve read her Crisis Core oneshots/occasional chaptered story is priollly concerning. It’s been a bit since I’ve went back to them, but god are they etched in my heart with sharpie and cement <3 <3 Actually, the reason why I started “The Bonds That Kept Me Sane” was solely because of my overwhelming need to keep the friendship and undying love between these guys alive—Nibelheim be damned!!

And many many many many more ofc!! <3 Thank you for being so passionate about this franchise and using your talents to create such snuggly stories for me and many others to read! <3 <3 I love this community so much!

#fanfics #awesome people #thank you for being you!!!!!#ff7 #sephiroth #Zack Fair #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #aerith gainsborough #other relevant fellas

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter one: genesis

word count: 5.8k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, religious blasphemy, cults amok, massively canon divergent (if you’re here then like...you know), body horror and horror in general, brainwashing, manipulation, you know the drill. john is himself, and thus: deserving of a warning. in this chapter specifically, brief mention, in passing, of mass suicide.

notes: hi friends! yes, i'm aware that this is a week early. i apologize. i wanted to get this chapter out while i had the thoughts in my head; not a lot of exciting stuff happens, most of it is just... setting things up for where we're going and where we're going to be, but i hope that you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you, of course, to my beta reader @starcrier; this chapter was in a lot rougher shape before she got to it. if you have the chance, please check out her writing--she is just absolutely incredible!

and thank you to everyone who did me the GREAT blessing of reviewing and supporting ancient names. i really can't believe i'm out here!! with people interested in what i have to say about this fucking nutso canon-divergent universe i am building! gosh i just hope y’all enjoy it. fun stuffs to come.

summary: —to fall like a wounded animal into a place that was meant for revelations.

there are many injustices that john seed will tolerate. the betrayal, and subsequent departure, of his wife and child is not one of them.

or: elliot honeysett just wants to live her life in quiet seclusion, and there's no way in hell that's happening.

“This is a very old story.”

It was cold, and dark, and the night stayed cloudy and moonless. As Helmi picked up the gun clasped between the two corpses, she glanced furtively in the brunette’s direction. Her gaze was impossible to read, the severe lines of her face accented only by the dim, flickering light of the neon sign; Kajsa had always looked like this, though, sharp like broken glass was, reflecting only and not taking anything in. Protected.

Helmi lifted her gaze back to the dead pair at her feet, up to the neon sign that blinked The Spread Eagle, and then down and stopping at the words written in dried blood on the paneling.

WRATH, DO YOU WANT TO BLOOM IN ME?

“You and me,” Kajsa murmured, and now it was her turn to watch. “Them. Eden’s Gate, and the Mother. All of it has happened before and will happen again.” She sighed, as though it troubled her, the dark arch of her brows pulling together to knit at the center of her forehead. With the only source of the light being the bar’s sign, her skin was an eerie, pallid red-and-blue, darting and worming across her expression. “We’ll turn this world into winter, Hel. The two of us.”

Helmi watched her for a long moment. “Kajsa—”

“Douse them.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her sweater, turning and stepping over the two other dead bodies they had dragged from where they had been propped up against the wall. “I want this place in ashes by sunrise.”

“Yes.”

Kajsa didn’t wait for her to begin walking to the car, idling still a safe distance away. Helmi preferred it that way. For a few minutes—and that’s all it would take, really, to unlatch the canister lid and toss the gasoline over the bodies, against the paneling of the wall, atop the roof—she could turn her brain off, forget the way Kajsa’s eyes see straight through her, forget the bodies of her brothers and sisters as she tossed the match on them and watched the flame eat through the fuel.

Hungry. A beast. Like me, Helmi thought absently, as the flames licked at the sky, reaching reaching reaching. Watching them felt like watching the souls of her brothers and sisters reaching for the stars, carried away in wisps of foul-smelling smoke. She wondered, do they feel it now? Do they feel the sting, the burn? When their bodies haven’t been given to It, do they feel it all after?

“Come, Helmi,” Kajsa called from the car. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

They had been at it for hours, this methodical and clinical extinguishing of bodies. Every spot that they had agreed and picked out on the map in such an instance was now blacked out. Burned. Their brothers and sisters had done what was expected of them, and for that, they would not be forced to rot—they would be turned to charcoal, to ash, only blood and bone spent.

Her feet carried her back to the car as the flames began to devour more than just flesh, crawling along the rooftop of the Spread Eagle and popping in the still, quiet night. Kajsa’s hand came up to her face and cradled her cheek, fixing her with those eyes: dark eyes, shades of gray and glassy, like a shark.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt,” she said, the pad of her thumb brushing across Helmi’s cheekbone. For a second, the older woman almost looked like—well, looked like something, an unknown flicker of emotion crossing her face—but then it cleared.

Hel watched her curiously, waiting until the hand against her cheek dropped before she said, “I know, Kajsa.”

Kajsa nodded. Only once, short and brisk, the gesture as sharp as the lines of her face. “Make sure you do not forget.”

I won’t, Helmi thought, but did not say. Kajsa had never believed words before, and she would not start now. Helmi would just have to show her that she had not forgotten.

She looked back; the singeing of flesh fizzing in the air, the crackle of devouring flame whispering to her. A cleansing fire. Their bodies weren’t given to The Father, but they had given in another way, with their lives—in a way that still mattered.

“Kajsa,” Hel said, bringing the woman’s attention back to her, “do they feel it, still? The fire, when they’re gone?”

“Perhaps,” Kajsa replied, jaw absently working something wadded just in the hollow of her throat; words she wanted to say, and could not. Or would not. It was always hard to tell, with Kajsa. “It’s not for us to know. The after belongs only to the dead.” The dark-haired woman opened the driver’s side of the car, pulling her gloves off of her hands and tossing them inside. “Get in the car, Helmi. I want to keep track of that interloper.”

Interloper. The kinder of the words that what remained of them had been using for John Seed and his merry band of fuck-ups and patience-testers. Heretics, zealots, apostate—

The list was unending. Helmi wished she could run out of disdain, but she knew that she would not be able to. Sorrow and mourning for those they had lost came in absolutes, in fixed amounts, but the bitterness persisted. She swung into the passenger side of the car, shutting it against the smell of burning skin, and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Kajsa pulled the car away from the sight. Hopefully it would be just as the harbinger wished—by sunrise, Hope County would be leveled by fire and flame, nothing but ash and ruined structure left. If the scraps of Eden’s Gate didn’t try and douse it out. If they didn’t continue to interfere.

She glanced out the window to the sky. The tires of the car hit the highway, and Kajsa clicked the cruise control on, and as tendrils of smoke clung to the stars, the clouds parted and the light of the new moon filtered down. Just a sliver of her light, but cold and cruel and reliable all the same.

“It’s pleased,” Kajsa said lightly.

Hel made a low noise of agreement, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the glass. “Are you?”

“Not yet,” the older woman murmured. When Hel glanced over at her, her eyes were fixed on the road; the headlights switched off, and in the far distance, she could see the tail lights of another vehicle glowing red as blood in the darkness. Seed, Hel thought through the haze of her exhaustion.

“But very soon, I will be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One Week Later

“Are you warm enough? Where’s your scarf? Elliot?”

The door was only inches away, and yet—somehow—she’d managed to not make it out without the barrage of questions that typically accompanied any of her departures. Taking in a soft breath, Elliot closed her eyes for a moment, leaving her hand on the door handle.

“I am sufficiently bundled,” she promised, turning to regard her mother, standing in the foyer. “I don’t need a scarf between the front porch and the car.”

“Scarf, please,” her mother murmured, deigning to set her martini glass down in order to pluck it off of the coat rack. Elliot watched the movement curiously—not because she had never seen her mother set aside an alcoholic beverage before, but because these days it seemed more often than not that she was beginning to slow down on them; a thing which Elliot never thought she would see. Part of it might have been the sudden upheaval of having her grown, child-carrying daughter and dog suddenly move in with her, and part of it may have just been, well, time—but either way, she didn’t think she could ask.

There were some things that were just better left unsaid.

“Okay,” Elliot relented tiredly. “I’ll wear the scarf.”

“It’s not just about you anymore, bunny.”

“I know, mama.”

“So wear the scarf—”

“I am,” she insisted irritably, making a great show of flinging the scarf around her neck. I know it’s not just about me, something prickly inside of her said, I fucking know, it’s never been about me, and it’s especially not about me now.

Scarlet eyed her for a moment, wary. This had been happening a lot more now, too—these odd, lingering looks her mother had begun to favor her with. It was the same way Sheriff Whitehorse had looked at her, and the same way Burke had looked at her that last time before she—

Well.

Forcing her tone to lightness, Elliot said, “Happy?”

“Hardly,” her mother replied tartly. “No reason to be spending time around horses in your delicate condition. And you’ve been so irritable as of late—”

“It’s supposed to be good for anxiety.” Elliot glossed over the additional barb blithely, years of muscle-memory kicking in now.

“Getting some sleep would help your anxiety.” Jab, jab, duck, her mother’s tell-tale movements, skittering across their conversation like so many little spiders. It had been so long before this that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be engaging in a constant verbal battle with someone who was supposed to love her.

That wasn’t necessarily true, either. She had plenty of experience ducking and parrying verbal punches from someone who claimed to love her, as of late.

“I don’t—” Puffing out a sharp breath through her nose, Elliot passed a hand over her face. Sleep had not been her friend, not before and certainly not now. Too many strange, unnerving dreams about handsome, blue-eyed men with flowers blooming out of their eyes for her liking. “I’m not taking medication that’s not prescribed to me, mama. Sorry. But it’s like you said, it’s not just about me anymore. Right?”

Scarlet picked up her martini glass, waving her hand as she turned to head back into the living room where the fire still glowed warm and hungry in the hearth. Yes, there was nothing she would have preferred more than to give in to the despair and apathy welling up inside of her, curl up under the blankets in her bedroom, safe and tucked away in a perfect bubble; but she couldn’t, because stronger than that apathy was an uneasiness, anxiety that vibrated just under her skin.

Not safe, it told her, during the day when she was trying to relax and at night when she was trying to sleep. Not safe, not us.

That was the real gut-punch of the whole thing. Before, the paranoia, the anxiety, the hyper-sensitivity—they had all been things that served a purpose. Her body had been ready for constant assault because she had been under constant assault. But now? Now, she was in bumfuck-nowhere Georgia, with no bills to pay, no job to maintain, only one task: be healthy, for baby. Be happy, and healthy, and do it for baby, because that was her only responsibility. She could no longer function as a single autonomous unit because she was not, by all intents and purposes, a single. Autonomous. Unit. And yet?

And yet.

And yet, the off switch was broken, somewhere in her brain. Broken, or locked behind bars, or somewhere that she couldn’t reach it. Her brain still liked to think she was under constant assault. And if Scarlet’s verbal fencing skills were anything to go by, maybe it was a fair judgment of the situation.

“...standing there for?” Scarlet asked from the couch, her voice filtering in through some strange fuzziness that had erupted in her brain.

“Just—thinking,” Elliot managed, forcing a smile onto her face. She could tell it fell flat from the way her mother regarded her, but she cleared her throat quickly and glanced at Boomer, waiting patiently by the door. “You gonna take care of mama, Boomer?”

“He certainly will not.”

“Protect the homestead.”

“Elliot—”

“He can’t come with me to the barn,” Elliot informed her mother primly. “He’ll be well-behaved here, I promise.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was something that couldn’t be argued, Boomer’s manners, and so finally she said, “Just don’t be gone long, then.”

Nodding, Elliot opened the front door and slipped out, keys clutched in her hands. The first snowfall of the winter had hit; it was still fresh and powdery, crunching underfoot, and by the time she was carefully pulling out of the driveway, she had nearly forgotten about the strange static fuzz rattling around in her head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot lifts the glass of champagne to her mouth. Here, John can see the wedding band on her finger—gold and simple, for now. He’d promised her something nicer after things quieted down. She’d said, of course, that she didn’t need anything nicer; she was happy with the one she had. With him.

He thinks that she has never looked so beautiful, bathed in the romantic glow of fairy lights, hair pinned back and the white of the wedding dress dappling lace across her skin. And wearing the ring, of course.

I love you, he wants to say, but cannot. I love you so much, he wants to say, but does not; he watches her set the flute down on the table and he opens his mouth to say it. He has to tell her—she has to know, all of those things he had said, he didn’t mean them. He loves her. He has to tell her so that she can know.

John reaches for her and opens his mouth. She lets him take her face, lashes fluttering closed; when he tries to say it, when he wills the words out of his lungs, he is choking, choking, choking, the sickening scent of flowers rushing over him and he heaves.

The petals spill from his mouth. They tumble to the ground between them. You’re mine, he wants to say, I love you, but the petals choke him on their way out, billowing out from his lungs and tripping on their way out of him, blowing out in gorgeous baby-soft puffs that leave his throat shredded from the inside out.

His hands find her shoulders. He clutches her, because he can’t breathe—there are too many of them, these flowers, each labored attempt at breath making it worse. He’s choking, and Elliot grabs his face with her hands as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

She shoves her fingers into his mouth, packing the petals against the back of his throat, and he can’t breathe, and she says—

“I told you that you couldn’t have both.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John jolted awake, the sound of the alarm on his phone echoing in the tight space of his car. The dream lingered, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and on his ribs like a heavy meal yet to be digested. It took a few blinks for him to really gather himself, remember where he was, who he was, what it was he had been doing. It felt like he could still taste the petals in his mouth.

Wicked devil, he thought tiredly, the image of Elliot looking down at him—wretched, and unyielding, as he choked to death—burned behind his eyelids. Even in my dreams, you’re ungrateful.

On his way out of Hope County, he’d dropped the Eden’s Gate truck for some poor shmuck’s sedan. It certainly wasn’t the kind of car he was used to driving in, and not for long periods of time, but he couldn’t risk a cop tagging his plates and finding out that the car was owned by him.

Not that he thought news of what had happened in Hope County had reached anyone yet. The government had their hands full as it was, he was sure—if the news on the radio had anything to say about it, anyway—so he imagined that the extraction of a few “criminals” out of Hope County, Montana had hit the backburner.

Passing a hand over his face tiredly, John tossed the book he’d fallen asleep reading onto the passenger seat and shut the alarm off on his phone. The book joined a collection of others, the titles including but not limited to Unconditional Parenting, The Whole-Brain Child, and other such riveting pieces, set to guide him along the path of parenthood.

He had been in Weyfield for three days; finding Elliot’s ancestral home hadn’t been hard, considering there were only a handful of houses that said rich by their exterior, and fewer less of those that looked to have been constructed so many years ago. In fact, the house that he had narrowed down looked the epitome of a wealthy Southerner’s ancient household; big front columns binding the two-story structure together, a sweeping front porch, and what he could only assume was a painstakingly-maintained garden when it wasn’t covered in a healthy foot of snow.

But more than that—more than the house, and the snow, and the stupid, shitty car he’d been living in for the last week—was Elliot.

His sleep schedule was fucked up because her sleep schedule was fucked up. He’d only caught glimpses of her through the windows, on occasion, and as much as he wanted to go charging into that house and demand she come back to Hope County with him, John knew he had to go about this very carefully. Elliot had willfully left him to be arrested, and she had willfully lied to him, and she had willfully and spitefully informed him of her pregnancy, and that meant that there were too many factors for him to think he could just breeze in and out. He was going to have to be diligent about everything—and that meant learning as much as he could before she figured out he was there.

It made him feel psychotic. It made him feel like a madman, but he supposed that was to be expected. That’s amore.

He had figured out precisely three things since his arrival in Weyfield: Elliot was staying with a woman he could only presume to be her mother, she had yet to make any friends, and she wasn’t sleeping. Every single night—or morning—she was up, moving around on the second floor and sometimes the first. It was nearly Christmas, now, which meant that she had to be at least nearly five weeks. What was she doing, up and about all hours of the night?

Now, watching Elliot haul herself into the jeep, bundled up and puffing hot air onto her hands, he thought, where are you going without the beast, huh? Haven’t seen you spend a second away from him.

John watched the car pull carefully out of the driveway and then head down the road. He’d been parked beneath the cover of a snowy row of cedars, the air inside as cold as outside by the time he’d woken out of his tenuous sleep. Now, as the sight of the dark Jeep disappeared down the residential lane and turned onto the street that would take her out to the country, he turned the key in the ignition.

The car came to life with a shuddering groan. It took a few tries to dig himself out of the fresh snowfall, tires skidding and the orange light reminding him—time and time again—that the tires were having a hard time. Thanks, you piece of shit, he thought tiredly, finally pulling out of the little ditch and setting off down the road. He let a few cars go ahead of him before he turned down the same street Elliot had, driving until the houses became fewer and fewer and it was more pastureland; three cars ahead, he saw Elliot pull down a long drive that wound for an eternity until a...barn?

A fucking stable?

“What the fuck,” he said under his breath, sighing. He should have known—of course she’d find some reason to spend her afternoon around stinking animals. Was that safe for her to be doing? Being around horses?

He pulled a slow u-turn and found a turn out at the top of the hill—close enough to see when she was leaving, but not close enough that he could be seen if she was pulling out. As soon as he shut the car off, the engine ticking as it cooled, John settled back against the seat and let out a long, suffering breath.

Well. He supposed that she should have been grateful she wasn’t leading a particularly exciting life, but he wouldn’t have minded something a little more exciting than this. Something more than staying holed up in her mother’s home—something which he was sure she did not enjoy, if the way she had spoken of her mother before had been any indication—or the occasional walk down the lane with the hound.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Once he felt confident he knew what was going on, once John had figured out what exactly he was up against when it came to fetching Elliot from this Stepford nightmare of a back-water-nobody-town, he’d get a couple of extra resources gathered and snag Elliot hook, line, and sinker.

But first, he would just have to wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was pretty easy to find a place that wanted someone to come and brush their horses for free. Elliot had called around to a few places at the behest of her doctor, who had been displeased when she explained no, she did not want to speak to a therapist, but yes, she would take the suggestion of seeking out other avenues of emotional healing.

I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Honeysett, the doctor had said, her voice stern, you can’t keep going the way you are. Stress is bad for babies, let alone post-traumatic stress.

Elliot had fervently nodded her head and explained that yes, she understood, and yes, she would make sure to find a place to relax and destress. And that was how she ended up here the first few times, and now standing in a stall, bringing a brush slowly over the shiny gold coat of a palomino that stood by idly while she fumbled herself through the motions. She had spent a lot of time around horses before, back when she was a kid—back when her grandfather still had his own little mini stable. After he’d died, the horses had of course been sold, even though Elliot had begged her mother to let her keep just one of them.

“They’re racehorses, Elliot, not show ponies,” her mother had snipped, all those years ago. “What are you going to do with a racehorse?”

Run, she’d thought then. Run and run and run, as far as he’ll take me, and we’ll camp out under the stars and then we’ll run some more until no one can find me ever again.

That had been a dream, of course. Now she only had her two legs to carry her wherever she wanted to go, and they had served her pretty well.

“Been around horses before?” someone asked lightly from the stall door. “Before the last couple of times you’ve been here, I mean.”

Elliot’s gaze flickered, snapped out of her thoughts—out of that girl she had been so many years ago—and landed on the same young woman that had gone through all of her paperwork and given her the run-down. Her name was...Sarah? No, it was something else. Something with an S. She was pretty; dark honey-blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, her face pretty enough to be woman and round enough to make that woman look angelic.

“A long time ago,” Elliot admitted sheepishly, her fingers braided into the palomino’s mane as she worked the kinks out of it. “When I was little.”

“Ah,” the woman said, smiling. “It’s sort of like riding a bicycle. How come you aren’t riding?”

“My doctor said not to.” She paused, because that sounded suspicious, and then said, “And anyway, I’d be making a fool out of myself.”

“Everyone makes a fool out of themselves the first time around, even after a long time. But of course, we want you safe,” the blonde replied somberly, but a smile still ticked the corners of her mouth. When she shifted, Elliot could see that her name tag said Sylvia W. “Hey, you’re Honeysett’s kid, aren’t you?”

Ellliot stifled a groan. She had made it through precisely two interactions without someone bringing up her mother in the entire time that she’d been back in Weyfield, and she had been hoping to make this a third. Glancing over at Sylvia’s curious expression, Elliot managed out as politely as she could, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Your mama called,” Sylvia explained amusedly. “Wanted to make sure you got here without problems.”

I’m twenty-six. “Ugh.”

“It’s cute, but she’s...” Sylvia’s gaze flickered while she tried to come up with a word. And then: “Strong.”

A quick, sharp laugh billowed out of her, unexpected, because the idea of someone calling her mother strong was absurd—not because she wasn’t, but because so many other words came to mind before the word ‘strong’ did. Elliot stifled the second laugh that tried to bubble up out of her, and Sylvia grinned.

“Take it that’s not the first impression people get of your mama?”

“No, Sylvia, it certainly is not.”

“Via is fine,” the blonde corrected, not unkindly. After a second, of quiet introspection, she continued, “If you ever wanna get out of your house, my brother and I go to that bar in town—you know, the uh.... Wild Rose? They do trivia night every Thursday. Winner gets fifty bucks.”

“Wow,” Elliot said without thinking, “a whole fifty dollars? To split between the three of us, huh?”

Via flashed a grin. “I knew you had a sense of humor.”

The words caught something funny in her chest, hooking into her all of a sudden. Reminding her that once, she had been funny—once, she’d had friends. Once, she’d had this kind of rapport with—

Shut the fuck up, she thought to herself, viciously, if you wallow every time you think about that fuckface you’re never going to get anywhere.

“So?” Via prompted. “What do you think? Want to be our third?”

“I’m—that’s really nice of you,” Elliot managed out. “I think this week I’ll have to pass. If you think my mama’s strong over the phone, just imagine her in person and five drinks in.”

The blonde grimaced. “Fair enough. But, invite’s always extended, alright?”

“Thanks, Sy—Via.” Elliot corrected herself, earning a quick, playful wink from Sylvia before she disappeared down the hall to resume her duties. She finished brushing the old brute; on occasion he’d twist his head back to bump the dark velvet of his nose against her side, reminding her that he was there and appreciated her.

She finished up the last of the brushing and then dumped her things in the bucket before she carried it out. The last few times she had been here had passed in much the same way—and now that she thought about it, hadn’t Via offered the trivia night thing to her before? Or was she just imagining things?

“Need sleep,” she murmured to no one in particular, depositing her bucket and brushing her hands against her jeans before sliding her coat on. When she had signed herself out on the sheet and stepped out into the late afternoon, the sun had already gone down; it left the world terribly blue, the sky blue and the snow blue-tinted, like someone had slapped a dim neon light over the sun.

Elliot puffed a hot breath of air out, fishing around for her keys and unlocking the car. As her gaze swept absently over the landscape, she spotted a car parked at a pull-out just up the hill. From where she was, it was hard to see—perhaps nearly impossible—and she wouldn’t have noticed if—

If she wasn’t so concerned about seeing a face that was too familiar. Burke, even, would be an unwelcome addition to her life in Weyfield. She tried to stuff down her paranoia; someone was surely just parked while they were sending a text, or making a phone call, or...

Or, they’re watching you, something inside of her said. She ducked into the driver’s side of the car, cranking the heater, but no amount of hot air washed the voice away. Maybe they’re watching you and waiting to arrest you. Or, maybe it’s—

But it couldn’t be. Because the Seeds were in Federal custody, and that meant they weren’t her problem anymore.

Elliot pulled out of the yard, and then carefully onto the highway, checking her mirror every now and then as she drove the short distance home. Just to be sure. Just to be safe. Someone else pulled out of the stable yard, behind her, and then cresting over the hill came a car that might have been the same one that was parked, and maybe wasn’t, because she hadn’t been able to see the make and model, but if it was, then she would have to make some extra turns on her way home, and...

“No,” she said, firmly. “It’s no one. It’s nothing. Just traffic. Other people live here too, you idiot.”

The remainder of the drive was spent forcing herself to keep her eyes on the road and only checking her mirrors when polite driving protocol called for it. After all of that fussing she’d done, she was the only one pulling down the road to her house, and even when she waited in the driveway for a few minutes, nobody followed. No headlights. No strange, dark cars. No monsters to haunt the corners of her vision.

“You’re late,” her mother called from the kitchen when she stepped inside, shaking the snow out of her hair and shrugging out of her coat.

“Traffic,” Elliot lied without thinking. God, had she always been such a wretched liar? Surely not, right? “Smells good, mama.”

“I should hope so. I slaved over it.”

Elliotshot her mother a dry look, taking a bowl out of the cupboard and beginning to scoop the stew Scarlet had made into it. Boomer waited patiently in the doorway of the kitchen—no dogs allowed rule vehemently obeyed—and when Elliot picked two pieces of bread out of the basket on the counter, still warm, her mother said, “How were the horses?”

She paused in the doorway. The stairs to the second floor, and the subsequent peace and quiet, were just there. “Good,” she replied after a moment, inching toward the doorway. “Polite. I—made a friend.”

Scarlet looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyes narrowing. “A horse friend?”

“No, a—a person!”

“Mm.” Scarlet looked back at her book. “Just be careful who you associate with, Elli, you never know who has a reputation here.”

“But you do.” Elliot’s foot hit the first bottom stair. “I’m relying on you to watch my back. Thank you for dinner.”

Before her mother could ask her where she thought she was going—“Taking food up to your room, Elliot? What are you, nine?”—she had fled up them, Boomer trailing after her until she had the bedroom door safely closed and locked with a breath of relief sweeping out of her. Every interaction was like that; wondering if she was going to make a misstep, drag herself into an argument that she didn’t want to have and which she would only be able to escape if she acquiesced and admitted that her mother was right.

Splitting one of the pieces of bread in half, she tossed it to Boomer and kicked her shoes off. He chomped happily, tail brushing against the floor. Elliot ate her dinner with the dim, low volume of the TV playing in the background, until half of her soup was gone and she had curled up under the blankets. It wasn’t until the Heeler burrowed into the blankets next to her, pressed against her side, that she finally felt the dredges of exhaustion begin to pull at her.

The sleeping pills her mother had given to her sat on her bedside table, still untouched. I don’t need them, she thought, shutting the tv off and the lights with it. I don’t need them to sleep.

I’m just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Night fell heavy, quiet and cold. By the time the late hours had passed and early morning was beginning to roll around—the kind of early where the world still slept—Elliot found herself standing in the hallway.

She blinked tiredly. She was still in her jeans; she’d neglected to change. Her hands were on the banister, and below her the living room stretched, long and only dimly lit, effused by the glow of the night lights peppered throughout the house. How did she get here? Had she slept walk? What had woken her?

Slowly, and then all at once, the sound of static drifting from the cracked door of her bedroom registered in her brain. The television was on; that must have been what had woken her. Elliot stood for a minute longer, trying to collect herself, trying to see if she was still dreaming, and then pushed the door to her bedroom open.

Boomer was snoozing quietly on the bed still. The telvision’s channel flickered static once, twice, and when Elliot reached for the remote, the static flipped again and the screen went black.

Not powered-off black. Just—a black screen, still backlit, empty.

White text blinked onto the screen.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot felt her stomach flip. The text blinked out, and then blinked back on, and then stayed. Her heart thudded aggressively against her rib cage, demanding—out out out, it said, desperate for a reprieve from this sudden chill spilling down her spine. She reached blindly, no longer sure where the remote was, when the text blinked again.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

No, she thought furiously, even though she knew it wasn’t true and that it didn’t matter. Whatever kind of strange late-night programming this was—and that’s what it had to be—wasn’t going to give her a response and certainly wasn’t waiting for one. She would just need to—

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot’s fingers gripped the remote and she pressed her finger feverishly, missing the power button once, twice, and then a third time before she finally hit it and the television clicked off. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking, and she quickly crawled back under the covers until Boomer was whuffling, tired and inquisitive, against her face. Her fingers knotted in his fur and she closed her eyes tight.

Even when they were closed, she saw the words, burned behind her eyelids. The inner strength to stay like that only lasted for another few minutes before she grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills and took one, swallowing it down dry and then dropping the container back on to her nightstand.

She would sleep. She would sleep, and forget about the strange commercial, and she would get her fucking life together.

In the morning. After sleep.

No strange dreams, she thought, not for me.

Not anymore.

#fic: witching hour #my writing #far cry 5 fic #john seed/f!deputy #fc5 fic #john seed x f!deputy #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #i really do be out here dropping the first chap a week ahead of schedule #i'm sorry #my posting is unreliable #i can never stick to a schedule #pls forgive me #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy

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morosoro · 4 years ago

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Reuben

Chapter 20

Summary: Reubens happy little Valentine’s Day bubble pops the moment he gets home.

Ao3 link here

He came home after school to find two visibly upset Scottish women taking tea on the sofa as his boy crawled about on the floor playing with a stuffed rabbit toy. Playing was a generous term, actually, Neal was more so just dragging it around and giggling as it moved each time his hand did. Quality entertainment for a baby, Reuben was sure.

He avoided the scowls from the older women as he crouched down to play with his son, gently taking the rabbit and making it wave to him. The babe giggled at that too. Oh what simpler times, when your happiness would depend on whether something moved or not. Reuben longed to be in the child’s place as Glynis cleared her throat.

“The Hatters called us yesterday.” She supplied.

Reuben huffed a sigh. He was getting tired of people asking about Jefferson. He’d had to answer several people today when asked, and not once had it been met with the aloofness he thought it deserved, Yes, they had a fight! It didn’t seem like a very big deal to him! “Yeah? What about it?” He asked.

“Mrs. Hatter informed me that Jefferson are no longer friends? That you told him to stop acting like himself? Now she didn’t explain precisely what happened, I get the impression she doesn’t know her son as well as she should, but Edith and I got the gist of it. And we are immensely disappointed. We thought we raised you differently.” The women told him, jaw set firm and spine rigid in her discontent.

“What? In the two months I’ve been here? Yes, a lot of raising done on your part.” He replied sardonically.

“You say that as if we weren’t pivotal caretakers of you since birth. You know full well we brought you up just as much if not more than your parents did. Now I suggest you start explaining yourself.”

“We had a disagreement. So what? It’s hardly the end of the world!” He was instantly in a sour mood as soon as this conversation had begun. He was so done having to explain himself to people who refused to understand. Even Belle had been upset with him when he told her what had happened in full. She’d told him he was in the wrong and that should apologize. He had thought out of all people she would’ve understood where he’d been coming from. Now his Aunts seemed to be antagonizing him too?! How come nobody could just give him the benefit of the doubt or see his side?!

“It was more than a disagreement and you damn well know it.”

It’s not like he’d really meant anything he said anyways. He just didn’t like the implications Jefferson’s words had set on the table. Jefferson needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

“Okay so I got tired of the jokes. I’m sorry that I don’t want people thinking I’m a bloody buftie who's shagging a dude behind his girlfriend's back.” He sneered, fed up of the conversation already. “I’m sorry for setting some god damn boundaries. In all honesty I think that if he were really my friend and not just hopeful he could ‘turn me queer’ or whatever then he would respect said boundaries.”

Edith gasped at his language, still remaining silent. Glynis’s glare only hardened. “You sound an awful lot like yer father saying words like that.” She said coldly.

His head whipped over to look her in the eye, bewildered rage taking root. How could she say that?! “You take that back!”

Glynis stared right back at him. “Or what? You’ll call us auld hags? Stomp around and break things?” After a beat of silence where he said nothing in preference of continuing to fiddle with his son’s stuffed toy, the woman continued. “Oh? Ignore us then? Your father liked to do that too.”

He stood to his full height quickly, discarding the rabbit as he went. He gestured sharply as he shouted. “Shut the hell up! I’m nothing like him!”

His son started to cry, obviously startled by the loud volume. He froze, staring down at the scared little boy in alarm. Oh no… what had he done? Had he hurt him- he didn’t think he did… but then again he had tossed away the toy pretty carelessly. Had it hit him? No! The idea made him sick.

Could he really be turning into a copy of his father? Was this proof?

Before he could think to reach for his son to try to comfort him, the boy was picked up by Glynis instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, the lines seemed quite blurred lately.” She hissed in response.

“Glynis- please!” Edith pleaded, her expression softer but still troubled. “Give the lad break? He’s been through a lot lately.”

“That’s no excuse for bigotry and slurs! Did you not hear him, Edith? ‘Buftie’, ‘Queer’? Doesn’t that upset you?” The other woman asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes…” Edith agreed before pausing to sigh lengthily. “But I’m also aware that he’s in a very tough spot. He’s still only a boy, see… He’s bound to have bad days and ugly moments. We all are, Love.” The other said, calm but firm. “ Besides, shouting at him and making him feel like shite won’t get us anywhere productive...”

Still holding the sniffling child, and with her jaw still set Glynis also sighed heavily through her nose. She seemed to calm slightly before deciding “Fine then, you deal with him. I’ll be taking Neal for a stroll down the paths. I suppose I could use some air.”

Edith nodded. “I think that’s best, dear. Thank you.” She then looked at her still visibly angry and hurting great-nephew. “Why don’t you go to yer room? Put on a tape, read a book… calm down some? I’ll come up and speak to you before dinner, Aye?”

Reuben, with clenched fists and hunched shoulders, let out a grumbled “Fine…” before hurrying his way upstairs.

—

He was only a couple chapters further into his copy of ‘Lord of The Rings’ (borrowed off of Moe, actually. The man had recommended it to him a couple of weeks ago) and the chorus to Genesis’ ‘Land of Confusion’ was playing when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Sighing, he paused his cassette, marked his place in the book and called for the person to come in. To no surprise, Edith entered, and she had brought more tea for the both of them.

She sat herself on the foot of his bed and offered him the mug, he accepted it and took a sip. They sat in silence for a moment before she finally decided to speak. “You know lad, it doesn’t matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to be disrespectful.”

He stayed quiet, only grunting over the rim of his mug in response. She continued. “But we’re not going to talk about earlier today. Glynis and I are older than dirt, we’ve heard it all. We can take it. I want to talk about what happened with Jefferson.”

“We had an argument. What more is there to talk about?” He responded lowly.

“Why?” She asked. “Why were you arguing with him?”

“Because I was sick of the gay jokes.” He answered. “The ones that implied… stuff. I’m no feckin’ fag and he can’t bloody turn me into one!”

The woman let out a hissing sound, as if she had be burned. “See, what we’re not going to do is use terms like that.” She told him, stern voice in place. “Like Glinnie and I have both said, upset is no reason for disrespect.”

The teen was once again quiet as he sipped his tea again. The woman moved ahead in the conversation. “A person cannot ‘turn’ gay or straight. They either like the same sex or they do not. And it is not a bad thing to be that way.” She explained.

“Sure, okay… whatever.” He replied. “It still doesn’t fucking matter. He crossed a line and it made me uncomfortable so I told him to knock it off. That’s it. I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it!”

“Because you hurt his feelings. And I think you knew what you said would hurt his feelings. That’s not okay, Reuben. You need to understand that.”

“I get it!” He barked. “I was just upset, okay? I lashed out. It happens…”

“Then it sounds like you need to work on controlling yourself. Maybe start by thinking things over before you say anything, like why Jefferson’s jokes upset you so much in the first place.” And with that she got up to leave again, throwing a casual “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Over her shoulder as she went.

After the door shut behind her and he was by himself again he let out a frustrated growl. After setting down his tea, he drew his knees to his chest and raked his hands through his hair frustratedly, head hanging low. Why was he like this? Why was his anger like a light-switch? This was definitely something to bring up with his therapist next time.

He sighed then as he made a small connection in his head. Dr. Hopper had told him last time that he ought to take time for himself to think and figure things out and work on ‘self-improvement’. Edith had just told him to do pretty much the same thing. He glanced to his nightstand where the crinkled pamphlet-turned-coaster sat, and after a moment’s consideration, he reached for it, taking it out from under his mug. He turned to the second page.

‘Ask yourself ‘Why?’. Contemplate response. Consider your reasonings. Repeat.’

Why did Jefferson’s Joke upset you?

“Because it made me uncomfortable.” He mumbled.

Why did it make you uncomfortable?

“Because… I could picture it?”

Picture what?

‘I’m straight!’

‘So is spaghetti until you get it hot and steamy.’

‘Hot and steamy’

Hot and steamy...

“Fuck!” He growled out, tossing the pamphlet away. “This is bloody stupid! I’m not getting anywhere!” He told himself as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the unwanted images away. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?! He hated it. He hated himself.

It was hard to believe today had started out so lovely, with his girlfriend in his arms and a promise ring in question.

“I need a nap.” He decided. “A long one.”

———

Doctor Hopper was a strange individual. The kind of man that made Reuben wonder how his son Archie had become… well… Archie. Guys like Archie tended to have strict, straight-edge, academics-obsessed fathers. The type with the big glasses and button-down shirts that they tucked so neatly into their khakis. They were a vision of who their sons would become, but not Doctor Hopper.

No, Doctor Hopper was more laid back. Yes, he wore khakis and button downs but in a much more sloppy-casual sense. His hair was long and he wore a cowboy hat atop his head. He didn’t tip-toe with his words, he just spoke freely from his thoughts (and his degree, hopefully). He was also just odd enough for Reuben to believe he’d likely had a few run-ins with the law in the past. Yes, Reuben could definitely see this man scamming people of their money, or being picked up off the street where he lay a drunk… or something… fool. And yet this man was somehow his therapist and he was supposed to trust him and his advice. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

They currently sat opposite each other, Reuben on a large leather sofa, and Dr. Hopper laid back in the matching armchair. The latter was having a cigarette as he listened to his patient’s concerns.

He puffed out a measured stream of smoke before speaking. “So, basically, you’ve been acting like a cunt to your friends and family and you don’t know why?”

“Uh…” Reuben shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“You just freak out when you feel targeted? As in you just suddenly feel like you have to defend yourself… but really all you're doing is spewing shit?” At the teens nod the therapist took another puff, answering with his exhale “Sounds like anger issues to me, kid. Probably got it from the alcoholic disgrace you call a dad.”

Reuben huffed a worried sigh. “So what? You think I’m going to wind up like him?”

“Nah, unlikely.” The man responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You both have issues and bad trauma, but yours is just…” he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Different. That stuff really shapes a person. You’ll be fine… or well… as fine as someone like you could be.”

Someone like him? He wondered what that implied. He didn’t want to ask. Instead he focused on the positive. “You think so?”

“Yeah, kid. As long as you keep trying to get better, hell yeah! Anger issues? No problem kid. We can manage that with just a bit of work.” The adult said before taking another draw.

Curious, Reuben asked him “What kind of work?”

“Thinking. Self-help work, kid. You know about it, it was in the pamphlet. First off, why do you think you were acting like a cunt in the first place?”

Running his hands through his hair, Reuben groaned. He should’ve known. “Because my friend was making jokes that I didn’t like. They made me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why?” The man prompted him to expand on it.

“Because they were implying something that I didn’t want to be implied.”

“So it’s something you’re insecure about then?”

That gave Reuben a moment’s pause. Was he insecure about his sexuality? “.... no?” At least he didn’t think so.

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

Fuck.

He huffed, frustration growing. “What do you mean? I’m definitely secure about it!” He snapped.

“Whoa man-“ the therapist warned. “Don’t go acting like a cunt on me now. I’m just trying to help you figure this out.”

The teen pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything. “I know… I’m sorry. I just don’t know why it upset me.”

“Then you just gotta think a little deeper about it sometime. But don’t try to rush it. Take your time to figure you out, Y’know?”

“I-I guess?” They were quiet for a moment before he asked “What do you think the reason was?”

“Hey, I can’t really say for sure, I’m not in your head. But to me it just sounds like the jokes just hit too close to home. He hit a nerve, something you're insecure about and don’t want to address. Whatever it is, you should probably address it before you try to apologize to this guy. You do want your apology to be as genuine as possible, right?”

Confused and practically in a stunned silence, he realized the implication his therapist had just made. He only swallowed thickly and nodded, squeaking out a broken sounded “Yeah, right.”

#ouat #once upon a time #fanfic #rumbelle #Rumplestiltskin #high school au #80’s au #this is my ventfic

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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02/07/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 26:1-27:21, Matthew 25:1-30, Psalms 31:1-8, Proverbs 8:1-11

Today is the 7th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian and here we are stepping through a threshold that…well…this happens 52 times every year we greet a brand-new week and around here we usually take note of that because...well…we live our lives day by day, week by week and month by month and year by year, but every time we come into a new week it’s out in front of us and we can…we can choose in advance what this week is gonna look like by simply paying attention to the posture of our heart and where things take us. And, so, it's all shiny and sparkly and new and let's walk into it with intentionality. Like let’s be intentional about making this week a bright spot of our year instead of descending into some kind of darkness that we didn’t have any business getting anywhere near. So, it’s a brand-new shiny sparkly and we turn the handle and walk-through it together. This week will read from the Christian Standard Bible. We are in the book of Exodus. We are with the children of Israel who have recently been freed from slavery in Egypt. We are in the wilderness. We are surrounding the mountain of God, Mount Sinai, and God has been laying out ordinances, essentially expectations, rituals, just the way that this newly forming people will be organized. And as I have mentioned when we got into this section, we can certainly read back thousands of years through current lenses, through our eyes now and not understand that this is radically moving the world forward, that many of the things that are being laid out here are new ways for people to conduct themselves toward one another and toward God. And we’re seen God weave a tapestry that will become a culture and He is inserting into this culture essential reminders at every turn about their identity who they are, about who God is, and about where everything is headed, which is primarily what we’re looking for in our lives as well. And, so, let’s pick up the story. Exodus chapters 26 and 27 today.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for bringing us into this shiny sparkly new week that we get to live. Thank You. Thank You for the breath of life that we get to live and make plans and lives this week. Thank You. Your presence is always with us and we need to do nothing more than pay attention to the fact that we’re breathing to know that You are here. And, so, we thank You for life and it is our desire to give this life back to You as we move through this week as we continue the dance of life together, the collaboration that You have invited us into. And, so, we take from the Scriptures today, the voice of wisdom, that she is calling out to all the children of Adam which would be everyone that’s hearing this right now, that she is calling out, that she’s overlooking the road, that she's at the crossroads, that she’s beside the city gates, that she's at the main entrance, that she's calling out, that she is teaching us, that we should learn to be shrewd if we’re inexperienced, that we should focus our attention on developing common sense if were foolish, that she would never speak deceptively to us, that she would never deceive or pervert the truth, that she would only lead us to the truth, that she would only speak what is righteous, that we should seek her more than we seek to gain, more than we seek money, more than we seek silver and gold because wisdom is better than jewels. There's nothing, according to the Scriptures here, there's nothing more desirable, there's nothing that can equal attaining wisdom. And, so, this is something we want to carry with us into this new week, that we pay attention, that we slow down and understand that wisdom isn’t hard-to-find, she's at every corner, she's at every juncture, at every crossroads she's there. We just blow on by with whatever it is we feel like doing. We don't slow down enough to listen to what would be wise. Come Holy Spirit and lead us on the pathways of wisdom this week we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it's the website, and it’s where you find out what’s going on around here. So, check it out. You can also check just about all this stuff out using the Daily Audio Bible app if you have it. If you don't just go to your app store, whichever…whatever app store you use to get apps for your phone or tablet and download the Daily Audio Bible app. That is definitely the best way to experience the Daily Audio Bible and it will…will only continue in that direction. So, being aware of that is good, but check it out.

Check out the Community section. That is where the Prayer Wall lives, that is where to get connected in…on social media. That is just where to get plugged in. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage or if you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement 877-942-4253 is the number to dial or just hit the Hotline button in the app and you can share from there no matter where you are.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Isabel from Atlanta this is Abide in Christ also in Atlanta and I just will be praying for you. I also had a tumor in my brain taken out and then I had a stroke and then I had a bunch of seizures. So, I am fighting some different things, but the Lord has been just showing up and showing off. And I want you to know that there is a reason in every person's life and the Lord wants to use your personal story to show His grace, His mercy, and His power. So, just Lord I just want You to show up in this person's life. Show that You love, and You cherish every heart and every soul and just be such a light in their heart so that they will never feel like they are alone and never feel like You do not love them. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hi this is Saved by His grace and happy Valley which is currently under several inches of snow but that's not why I called. It's February 2nd. I just heard DDFT talking about…kind of suggesting that new listeners do listen to the prayers afterwards. I was one of the many who didn't. When the teaching was over that was it. And, so, it's…it's not even just that the prayers become a part of it, it's because as you listen to the prayers you realize you're becoming a part of a huge and wonderful family, a part of the body of Christ and you are meeting people who will be there for you and love you no matter what. You can take off your mask because you don't need to impress anyone. Everyone’s just here because we're all hurting, we’re all hungry to know God and Jesus and we are loving one another in the process. So, I just want to agree with DDFT. I hope I got those initials right and do have a blessed day. Love you all. Bye.

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Preston from Sunnyvale…Sunnyvale CA. I'm calling in today to reach out to the new listeners. I know I'm not the only one and I want to share my…my story with the Daily Audio Bible. And I've been with this almost three years. I started in February of 2018. And the reason I want to share my story is that I missed the beginning. I missed the first of the year. I picked up probably about a month and a half after it had started, and I started that day. Could have been February 15th February 20th, I don't remember. But…and so at that point I think we were in…I can't remember…we were either in Exodus or further on and as well as in the gospels and since that point I've been with the Daily Audio Bible every day. And I missed Genesis, I missed the good part of Exodus that year but because I stuck with it I picked it up the next year. And, you know, if…if you're feeling guilty or like you have some sort of pressure on you to…to get it right at the beginning and you want to get caught up…well…go ahead and do that if you want but if you don't, don't feel bad. The Bible works…it works its beauty throughout our lives no matter what. Have a great day.

Good morning everybody hey it's Annette Allison from Oklahoma City and it's been a while. I've just been cruising along like everybody else is. __ cruise control. Anyway, today is February 2nd. Today’s my brother’s birthday. And for those new folks my brother has been doing a 13-year stint strike two in federal prison and he now has less than one year to go. So, I would like to pray for my brother that he has success when he gets out of prison and most of all he can resume or start a good relationship with the Lord afterwards. And I know that's a tough thing in…in prison. And you Kairos guys, I bless you and I love you all so much. Thank you thank you thank you for all your work. Please pray for my brother, just keep him in your prayers, that you know, and any of us people who have wayward children who might be in and out of the __, that things turn around. I love you guys. Have a great day. Bye-bye.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family my name is Patrick I am out of Tennessee today is February 2nd and I heard a prayer request. It’s from a lady that talked about a little girl that was __ declaring to her she was clean, that she was worried. It reminded me of when I was young, I went to a very powerful church __. The…the church grew to huge numbers over a period of five years and we had these big prayer meetings and I was a struggling teen looking for God and I was always going down front wanting someone to put their hands on me and for a big spiritual moment to happen. And then the pastor's dad was the only one left. The entire church had finished. Everyone had gone home and the only person that was left was the pastor's dad the pastor's mum and the pastor's mom saw me praying at the altar and came over and touched him and said that I needed someone to pray with and I was in a place where I was looking for some kind of big miracle and he came over to me and he tapped me on the shoulder and I looked at him and all he told me was, “son you have to remember that Satan is under your feet.” And I feel that as a Christian people we lose that thought. We see these struggles. I still have struggles in my life, but that moment kept my perspective focused on Satan is under your feet no matter what you're doing...

Richard, man, my brother it is so good to hear from you. You are a first-time listener now it’s been several years. You used to be Richard from Mississippi back in the old days of 2018. You’ve since had a divorce and you have since gotten Covid. You're now Richard from Arkansas working with your dad and you are trying to get back into reading the word and listening to the DAB every morning. My prayer for you and my prayer for everyone listening to this is that May God bless you. May you see what God is doing and when He grants you the vision to see what He is doing may you have the heart that is choosing to say hey God I'm gonna jump on your train. I love you Richard. Know that you are not alone. Know that your voice is being heard and that goes for anyone else who wants to hear this. Praying that you might be well. In Jesus’ name. Holy Spirit intercede.

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rentfreecat · 5 years ago

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Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts Fanfic Recs

so yeah I figured I should get around to making a list of some of my faves to promote them, I’ve got a big enough collection of bookmarks now. in no particular order. not all of them are necessarily complete or alive

Final Fantasy VII

The Gold Saucer’s Golden Arches by belderiver

Before he doomed the world to ash and ruin, Sephiroth wanted a burger.

note: Sephiroth + sudden hunger pang = mcgold

Meetings by Yinza

Aeris reflects on her few encounters with Sephiroth over the years since her escape from the lab.

note: Aerith having known Sephiroth before is just one of my favorite headcanons

lather, rinse, repeat by annperkinsface

She knows she shouldn't confuse this act of kindness for anything else, but it's hard, when Aerith is draping a towel over her shoulders, when Aerith is warm at her back, humming as she works a thick lather across her hands.

note: adorable Aerti. Aerith being a weirdo. Tifa blushing and being kinda horny. perfect. in case you couldn’t tell I ship it.

In Circles by Larissa

Tifa hates Midgar, and yet she stays, and she stays, and she stays.

Character study/pre-game gap-filler. Written for the Tifa Zine.

note: beautiful mood piece

the nodding golden tansy by Kieron_ODuibhir

“You think this troubles me?”

“Yes,” said Cloud, without looking up from his tea.

note: one of my fave takes on Seph and Cloud’s relationship. wonderfully quiet and melancholy.

not one before another by Kieron_ODuibhir

1) Sephiroth almost corrected the first person who called Aerith his sister, a woman they’d met before they were even out of Midgar’s slums complimenting him on taking such good care of her, while their mother shopped.

2) The other half of Project S took after their father.

3) Blue eyes contemplated him narrowly for several seconds, and then Genesis’ smirk came back, lying on his face more easily, somehow. “So brothers-in-arms to the skirmish shall we hence?”

4) It felt wrong to be relying on anybody but Mother, but Mother…only cared about Sephiroth, and it wasn’t fair. Loz sniffled. “Will she take care of Yazoo, too?”

5) “I’m glad he’ll have a big brother,” she said, as Sephiroth crossed the room. “Little ones always need someone looking out for them.”

Sephiroth nodded, and bent forward, and peered at the squashed little pink thing until it stirred, objecting probably to cool air on its face. “What’s his name?”

“Cloud."

(Five times in five worlds where Sephiroth was somebody's brother, and one where he wasn't anymore.)

note: exactly what it sounds like. personal fave is 4.

Angels Still Have Faces by Kieron_ODuibhir

On the fourth day, Sephiroth looked out a window and spotted his two friends together on one of the outdoor training fields, once again exchanging harsh words, only for Angeal to wheel around and storm off at the end.

note: fics where someone other than the main character time-travels are amazing and this is that and also outsider pov mother bear Sephiroth who doesn’t know what pizza is

Final Fantasy IX

puppet play by zalzaires

starting a drabble collection for ffix. i mostly just write about kuja so hence the name.

note: my personal fave is "curtains, bookends, stars of the show” because Kuja is such so... Kuja in there

Final Fantasy XV

ffucc the wedding by Givethemtriumphnow

Gift for Victortor, inspired by their fabulous ffucc Universe.

Noctis and Luna are the same person, one soul split into two bodies.

In a world where everyone lives and nothing hurts, the wedding is still a symbol of the peace, and the show must go on. Noct and Luna just can’t wait for what comes afterwards: the Big Reveal.

note: I just really like the one person two body trope okay? pretty entertaining read!

Poor Wayfaring Stranger by lithos_saeculum

Out on a mission, Cor Leonis finds a teenager, lost and sick and partway to becoming an MT. Against the advice of all and sundry, he brings him back to Insomnia. There's not a lot of love lost for MTs in the Citadel, but some of its inhabitants may still be young enough to put aside their prejudices.

note: also on my list of likes is MT Prompto trope, and honestly fuck canon that’s just there for inspiration. TW for implied pedophilia and stranger danger in one of the later chapters.

Will You Be There, Standing at the End of the War by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)

When they're attacked by the Imperial Forces at Tenebrae, Regis wasn't prepared to be rescued alongside Noctis, Lunafreya and Ravus by the Commanding General of the enemy forces. Not after the man already cut Sylva down before them.

He was even less prepared for the face lying in wait behind the mask.

He dropped down to one knee, and rather pointedly cupped the left side of Drautos’ head, delicate, making no move to actually hide the fury raging through him.

“Talk, Titus.” Regis whispered. “Before I take this airship down from the sky.”

note: Drautos time-travels and is an absolute bastard. I like seeing his and Regis’s exchanges!

For Want of a Flan by magicgenetek

For want of some patience, Ifrit never freed Ardyn from Angelgard to rebel against the Astrals.

For want of Ardyn, Nifleheim never invented MT Troopers.

For want of MT Troopers, Lunafreya and Ravus were able to escape with Regis, and Nifleheim never cornered Lucis in their war.

For want of a kidnapping, Luna, Noctis and Prompto were able to work together to get ready for the prophecy, and Ravus is ready to suplex an Astral to make sure someone survives the prophecy.

For want of separation, the four of them go to Angelgard to figure out what secrets lay there, and accidentally adopt Ardyn into their plans to save the world.

For want of 2000 years’ prep time, Ardyn’s going to have to get up to speed on the modern world fast if he wants revenge or to fulfill his half of the prophecy.

note: has a good deal of worldbuilding and linguistics nerdery. I like that. I also like the recovery element of Ardyn’s arc.

A Little More Time by Asidian

The sun is brilliant overhead – set in a blue sky dotted with clouds that float like wisps of spun sugar through the high arc of the heavens.

It's more than lovely. It's entrancing, and Noctis takes one long, final look before he turns his gaze back earthward. His vision dances with sunspots for a moment, afterimages from the blinding light – but when it clears, Noctis sees a small black dog there, patient and watchful as always.

Umbra has been waiting.

"Alright," Noctis says. "We're ready to go back."

note: short, punchy, and absolutely chilling

Eschaton by nirejseki

Sure, it's the end of the world, but that just means someone's got to fix it.

And then the world found its somebodies.

(aka, with Noctis gone into the Crystal and no one sure when he'll be back, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto end up saving the world one piece at a time)

note: I like worldbuilding and MTs alright? and schoolteacher Gladio will never not be funny/great

Astra Inclinant by thekindmagic

“Look,” Aranea laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to shit on your destiny. But the way I see it? A lot of the time, there’s no big mystery. You either keep going, or you don’t.”

note: how could I not rec femslash? beautiful melancholy mood. I’m so sad for Luna

Starlight and Shadow by ohmyfae

While Noctis and his friends are setting up camp, Ardyn Izunia happens to accidentally stumble onto the runes of their haven. The magic of the haven pulls him into two halves; One is Ardyn, a small child with a bit of an ego and a limited knowledge of the world at large, and the other is the Scourge, shambling and groundless, determined to seek out its former host and consume the light it finds there.

note: fun read!

On the Care and Keeping of Prompto by ohmyfae

Congratulations! You have been chosen to ensure the well-being of PROMPTO, who is: 1. An absolute darling. 2. Of more intrinsic value than you, your significant other, your ancestors, and the world at large. 3. Two years and four months old 3a. This is very important to remember 4. Behind you.

note: also a very fun and fluffy read! also the fic that introduced me to the amazing crackship of Ardyn and Cor, and I say crackship but... I want more of it

Kingdom Hearts

The Price of Melodrama by LawnNinja

Xemnas never imagined that one of the hardest parts of his plan would be the stupid names.

note: deny it all you wish but you know this happened. also XULORD

(i don’t need you to) Worry for Me by Cygna_hime

In a fit of defiance and desperation, Vanitas disobeys his Master's orders and goes looking for the missing half of his heart. He finds it, and something else as well, something he never expected to find anywhere...

note: I absolutely love this I’ve read this like... 3 or 4 times? go read it now

Bleeding Heart by keelahselai

Xemnas was fundamentally a bad person. Born from the fracture of Xehanort's heart, he had only caused pain to those he banded together with under the promise of finding a way to return all their hearts. He shattered the Organization he'd founded for his own gain, and he understood this with cool indifference. But beneath everything, carefully kept folded away and hidden from Xigbar's prying eye, he was also made from the other inhabitant of Apprentice Xehanort's body. And as troubling as it could be to their plan, he kept it hidden from all.

(Or, how Terra managed to keep his head above the water for thirteen years)

note: I absolutely love the.. I don’t know what it’s called, but let’s say Terramas even though that sounds like a ship name... I absolutely love that trope. this one has such just a great mood y’know?

By Choice or Chance by Six_Piece_Chicken_McNobody

Lazy afternoons are a universal phenomenon.

note: I just love Xehaqus’s tragedy. this is nice, fluffy, and one of them is going to murder the other in his own selfish lust for power. (I know III said Xehanort had other motivations but I just love the “he’s such an utter bastard that all his relationships are going to end disastrously” interpretation)

Whatever Will Be by NanakiBH

Once I tell you the words I've been unable to say, it will be goodbye.

note: more explicitly melancholy mood than last one, still great.

#fanfic recs #final fantasy vii #final fantasy ix #final fantasy xv #kingdom hearts

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fireteam-dauntless · 5 years ago

Text

A Tale of Two Guardians XXIV

Chapter 24 : Hiding Part 1 of the Destined series masterlist

word count : 1.6K tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @basically-nacl @shins-wife @speed-boop

When I landed on Venus, I rode my sparrow towards that cave that Maverick took me to. It was the only place outside of Vanguard reach that I could go to, and hopefully Maverick wouldn’t think to look for me there. At least not first. I didn’t want him to find me right away, I needed time to think, to figure out why he had to keep his secrets. I wasn’t ready to face him. I still wasn’t wearing my armor, so I had to be extremely careful in danger zones. Despite my caution, I took a bullet in the side from a Hobgoblin from across the Endless Steps. I cried out in pain as I peeled around the corner and started through the woods, clutching onto my waist. The pain was rippling through my entire torso and warm blood seeped through the fabric and between my fingers. When I reached the cave, I got off my sparrow and leaned against the outside wall of the cliff side, my hands were shaking.

“Dawn...”

“Already on it.” She said as she started to heal the wound that was soaking my side with blood. “You should have worn your armor. I can bring some down from the ship.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly. “I’ll be fine here.” I stood up and walked inside the cave and lit the oil lamps, then pulled off my helmet after my Ghost set wards so I could breathe in here. The air on Venus was growing cold as night was starting to fall. I laid down and curled up on the cot, hugging myself. Part of me wished I hadn’t read those files. My heart felt broken, and my stomach plunged when I started crying again. Everything that I’ve been feeling over the last 24 hours came out all at once. Betrayal, despair, anger, used… It all hurt. I pulled a blanket that was folded in the corner over my body and closed my eyes.

I woke the next morning feeling weak and stiff. I sat up and looked around at the bare walls around me, illuminated by the faint orange glow of the oil lamps. “Dawn… Can you bring down my supplies?”

“What, your paints and brushes.”

“Yes.”

She pulled them down and I stared at the empty walls. My body still felt weak, but I had to sort out my emotions somehow. I started painting, all of my emotions flowing out through my paintbrush.

“Are you going to forgive him?” Dawn asked me once I had painted the dark reds and oranges on the wall.

“Maybe. I just need to figure out why. Why would he hide so much from me? You don’t understand, peu de lumière, I feel like I don’t know the man at all anymore.”

I continued painting. It was of a sketch I did without Maverick’s knowledge. It was him as a Sunbreaker, his arm pulled back, ready to throw his hammer, and I as a Sunsinger, my arm raised above me, clutching a grenade. The solar energy that surrounded us gave me my wings, and it gave Maverick a sort of flaming halo. Despite the negativity I felt towards him right now, I still loved him. I couldn’t change the feelings I had for him. It was why I felt betrayed, why I couldn’t break this feeling of despair. Deep down, I still loved him. He was all I had after my Fireteam died.

It took me two days to finish that painting. The vibrant warm colors seemed to glow in the cave, especially when they reflected the glow of lamps. I sat down on the ground in front of the wall, my arms and clothes were spotted with paint smudges and droplets from the endless work I had done. My sense of weakness had grown. I’ve barely had anything to eat or drink. I slept a total of 4 hours over the past 72, and I was so mentally exhausted that I barely felt anything now. I felt numb to everything that had happened.

I had gotten my answers. Even though the answers I got weren’t what I wanted to hear, they were the truth.

“I think I know why,” I murmured softly to my Ghost. “I think I know why he hid everything from me.”

“Oh?”

“What if he just… wanted to be a normal Guardian again? What if he didn’t want all of his titles. Maybe… Maybe he just wanted me to see him for himself. See him as a Guardian, not as a legend. Maybe he just wanted me to be his friend, so I wouldn’t idolize him. What if… what if he just… didn’t want to be forced to remember all that he’s gone through.”

There was silence between my Ghost and I. My head was spinning. I closed my eyes and leaned back against one of the walls. I held fast onto my hand cannon. I was starting to become afraid. What if the bounty hunters were getting close? My head was pounding from the lack of food and water I’ve had over the last couple of days.

“Genesis, are you alright?” My Ghost asked and hovered in front of me.

“Oui, peu de lumière, I’m just… tired.”

“Your vitals are dropping, Guardian, I’m bringing some food and water down from the Ship.”

“Non, non… s'il vous plaît, ne t'en fais pas.”*

While my Ghost was gone to the Ship, I heard the whirr of a Sparrow approaching. Then before I knew it, the door burst open. I screamed out loud and held up my weapon, though my hands were shaking violently. As I did, I saw the red eye of a Vex, but before I could pull the trigger in defense, Maverick's voice cut through the air.

“Angel!” Maverick shouted and hurried over to me. He knelt down in front of me, removed his helmet, and moved the barrel of my gun down. He looked at me closely before his arms wrapped around me, and he held me close to him.

“Ah… mon chérie… je suis désolé…” I murmured as I leaned my face into his chest. His hand gently held my head and tucked me close against him.

“I’m so sorry, Angel,” he said quietly. “I was going to tell you in the morning. But by then you were gone… I’ve been looking all over for you. I was starting to lose hope.”

“Maverick…” I looked up at him, my vision blurry as tears started to leak on my cheeks again. “I’m sorry… I should have trusted you…”

“But you had reason to doubt. I wish I had told you the truth sooner. But… I was afraid you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you. Never. I just… I wanted to understand. I felt like I was missing so many pieces. I… I honestly thought you didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not true, Angel. I just didn’t know if you would trust me after I told you.” Mav gently held my head in his hands, his fingers wiping the tears beneath my eyes away, just as Dawn came back from the ship.

“You know, I knew you were going to show up eventually,” she said and started to heal me. I felt energy rush back into my body, but my muscles still felt weak. I was still incredibly tired.

“C’mon, I gotta get you out of here. You need rest. What’s happened over the past three days?”

“Oh you know,” Dawn chirped, “she hasn't eaten or drank anything, maybe 5 hours of sleep total. She spent most of her time doing that.” My Ghost said while flashing her light on the wall. Maverick paused and looked at it, almost seeming to be amazed.

After a few minutes, though, he turned his attention back to me. I didn’t protest as he lifted me up into his arms, one under my knees, the other behind my shoulder.

“Little Light, bring us up to my ship. Can you fly hers back to the Tower?”

“Of course,” my Ghost said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’m so dead when we get back,” I murmured softly. “Zavala is definitely going to put me on total lock down again.”

“I promise you, Angel,” Maverick said firmly once we had transmatted onto his ship. “I won’t let that happen to you.” He set me down gently in the co-pilot seat. He strapped me in securely and then met my gaze and traced his fingers along the side of my face. I leaned my head on his hands. “Hang tight, okay? You might just need to get back on Earth, have some real oxygen in your lungs, and get some sleep in an actual bed. I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

“Maverick… you don’t have to… Just… promise me you won’t keep things from me again.”

“I promise. Now can I please get you home so you can sleep? I will hold off Zavala and his bounty hunters, even if it means I have to throw a hammer into his face.”

I laughed weakly. I knew he would, too, even though Sunbreakers were unwelcome in the Last City. “Okay, okay, I’ll rest. Let’s just go home.”

We entered slip space back to the Tower, the entire time Maverick was grasping tightly onto my hand, unwilling to let go. I allowed myself to slip into deep sleep in the co-pilot seat.

--- translations ---

*No, no, please, don’t worry about it.

#a tale of two guardians fic #destined pt 1 #destiny #destiny: the taken king #destiny fanfic #destiny fanfiction #my guardian oc #my writing #star's writing #my oc

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s-j-ace · 5 years ago

Text

The Same Question

Chapter Seven

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10492

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Seven. Here are Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma had always considered himself pretty lucky as far as orphans went.

At least his parents were dead.

Most kids orphaned in Japan were throwaway kids. If you’re a throwaway kid that means your parents came to the orphanage, told the staff that they didn’t have enough money to take care of you, and then left you there. They act like they’re going to come back, but they never do.

Or at least that’s what some kid told him one time when he was five. Then Kokichi watched an older throw away girl beat the shit out of him. She was convinced that her parents were coming back. Except some other kid told Kokichi that she had a twin brother and the parents kept that one, so obviously they already made the leap of deciding which child they loved enough to keep.

Or maybe the girl with the twin and the girl with the violent streak were different girls from different homes. The memory was drowned in the writhing throng of mix and match childhoods Kokichi had lived through. All he really recalled in perfect clarity was what he had thought, watching that kid getting beat up by the throw away girl. That he was lucky that his parents were dead. That there were no adults with that special power over him, who could make him hurt like that girl hurt and hurt others. There was only himself to be concerned about. He was free to do as he pleased without caring what any adults thought about it.

Whatever muddled thoughts he had about the power of his own autonomy didn't last for long though.

When he was about four Kokichi was moved out of his first home. He didn’t really remember it that well, but he had to have made the switch from the 0-3 orphanage into a 4 and up orphanage at some point. He hadn’t liked that first new home. The older kids were too mean to him or too nice to him, and, whichever one it was, he didn’t like to play with them. Kokichi ended up watching what the adults did a lot. At some point he figured out forging the transfer papers.

Between the ages of probably 5 and probably 11, Kokichi did a little trick of his own invention which he liked to call home hopping. Every few months he’d orchestrate a paperwork error or fake out adoption that got him moved from one orphanage or foster home to the next.

At first it had probably been out of some kind of dumb kid logic. Like, oh he didn’t like this one, so he’d just keep going till he found one he liked better.

Except most homes were pretty much the same. Overwhelmed guardians, ornery brats, and ornately constructed hierarchical systems that mostly relied on age as a measure of authority.

Eventually Kokichi realized that the only thing that really changed was the way that he himself was interpreted by whatever new social order he had inserted himself into. Was he the weird kid you just had to pick on? The cute, naive kid you couldn’t resist? The crazy kid who’d do anything you asked him to? Or maybe the all knowing kid who could tell the future? Every time he got to a new home he could just invent himself a new personality to take hold of and play around with until he was bored enough to bother with reforging his transfer papers again. He got so caught up in the habit of new personalities that he just never settled on one home.

That is, until he had the unfortunate displeasure of becoming a resident at the Holy Salvation Society Home for Unprivileged Youth in Towa City.

Ugh. Even the name was super suspicious, looking back on it.

Eleven year old Kokichi hadn’t been suspicious at all. He thought it sounded like some sort of Christian thing (you know, that religion that was in Neon Genesis Evangelion) and he wanted to people-watch some religious kooks, so he constructed a quiet-kid-who-was-secretly-a-super-spy personality to use when he transferred there. At first, it hadn’t seemed all that necessary. The home was basically like any other he had seen before. The guardians were often away, but there were two older girls, probably around 12 or 13, who the rest of the younger kids called Mama and Papa. None of them seemed to mind Kokichi much, as long as he did his chores, but if ‘Mama’ asked him to do something and he said no, ‘Papa’ would look at him with her weird red eyes until he said yes. Pretty average intimidation tactics as far as tween parenting went. Kokichi wasn’t very perturbed.

Then the men started showing up.

Weird, old men who would just watch the kids play during the day. At first, Kokichi assumed they were the guardians of the orphanage, but he overheard the two older girls discussing how they were the ‘patrons’ of the orphanage, which was apparently a different thing.

Then they started asking the kids to do things, like throw a ball at a target. Kokichi flubbed it, though he didn’t really know if he did it on purpose to fit his character or if his eleven year old throwing arm was really just that bad. The older girls did alright though, and so did a couple other kids. They were asked to do more things, like skip rope for as long as they could or race one another to see who was fastest. Soon it was just the Mama and Papa kids that were being asked to do stuff, which Kokichi was fine with because it meant he could get away with more shit like stealing extra sweets or skipping chores while they were busy.

And one night Kokichi was hanging out in the vents. It wasn’t important why, he just kind of hung out in the vents sometimes when he was supposed to be sleeping. Superspy stuff, you wouldn’t understand. So, anyway, he was blowing dust crusties out of the shaft that led into a room he hadn’t really been in before, when suddenly the door opened.

It seemed like some people came in, dragging something heavy.

Obviously, Kokichi crept closer to see what it was.

It was a weird angle, but he could recognize the fancy black shoes of the old men. There were three guys total. Two of them were standing and talking in a language Kokichi didn’t recognize, and then the third guy was just silently sitting in a chair.

Then there was a knock on the door and the talking stopped.

After a while, one of the men said in understandable Japanese, “Come in.”

The door opened and Kokichi craned his neck to see the smaller legs of a child in pajama bottoms walk through it.

“... We didn’t ask for you.” The other standing man said gruffly. “Go get the other one.”

“No, don’t take her. I volunteer instead.” Kokichi recognized the voice of the girl the kids called Papa.

“And why would we take you, when your friend is so much more talented?”

“Because… because she is weak. You said the training is hard. It would destroy her.”

“But not you?”

“No. Not me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I am stronger. I’ll do anything for the orphanage.”

One of the men snorted. Then the other one started speaking in that foreign language again. The two had a hurried discussion. Kokichi hadn't been exactly processing what was happening perfectly at the time, but after he learned English he thought that one of the men had said "use it."

Finally one of them broke out of it and started talking in Japanese again. “... Okay, little girl. I’ll give you a chance to prove that.”

Kokichi saw him move closer, seeing the edge of something shiny the man was holding before he handed it to the girl.

“What’s this for?” She asked.

“Him.” The man paused, presumably to make a gesture not visible from the vent outlet. “See if you can do it in one blow.”

The girl didn’t speak for a bit. Kokichi couldn’t see anyone’s face, but the girl’s fist clenched. Then she took a step forward. And another. And another. Until she was standing right in front of the man in the chair.

“... Is he a bad man?” She asked.

One of the men laughed. “It will not matter,” he replied, “If the men are good or bad.”

And then there was a pause. A silence.

And then came a terrible abomination of a sound.

*SCHLUCK*

And the man in the chair started making these awful, muffled noises. Like he was trying to scream, but could only manage to choke himself.

Accompanied by an unholy gurgling, dark liquid started dripping on the floor. The girl stepped back.

Another noise.

*KLSHHHCH*

The liquid began to gush in rivulets.

Then all the noises from the man stopped, save for the trickling of that opaque, dark liquid onto the floor. The metallic stink of it wafted through the vent opening, encasing itself into Kokichi’s memory forever.

The man who laughed before did so again. “Very good. Very good. We’ll start your training tomorrow, little killer girl. You’ll need energy. Get some sleep.”

“If you can.” The other one said.

Both men laughed now.

The girl dropped the thing the man had handed her - a knife, Kokichi now realized - and walked stiffly to the door.

That was when Kokichi developed his own precient idea of what was happening. His stupid kid brain figured out that the girl was going to get back to the sleeping room and notice he was gone before he figured out the man in the chair had just been murdered right in front of him.

He scooted back through the vents as fast as he could, careful to make as little sound as possible. When he got to the room, he made a bee line for his sleeping spot.

He almost made it too.

Just when Kokichi thought he was in the clear, the door swung open.

The girl stood in the doorway in her ratty, mismatched pajamas. She was covered in a dark liquid, the same color as her empty, haunted eyes. Those eyes were on him now.

“Get back in bed.” She said in the same authoritative tone as always, untouched by her recent misdeeds.

Kokichi would never have been so happy to follow an order in his life, but he couldn’t will himself to move. He was frozen.

Then she said something Kokichi would never forget.

“Do you want to die?

Kokichi jerked into motion at the words, practically falling into the bed and scrambling to get under the covers. He realized that, for the first time in his very young life, he was experiencing true fear.

The girl stood in the doorway for a bit, her dead gaze scanning over the rest of the sleeping children.

Then she entered the room, making her way to the door that led to the kids’ bathroom. She shut it behind her, and after a while Kokichi heard the water pipes groan in the tell tale sigh of their usage as she started a shower.

It was awful. The most excruciating pain in Kokichi’s life had been lying still in that bed, listening to the water move through the pipes, the sound translating into that dark gushing liquid. He wanted to run away. Escape. But that made him realize that it had to be called an escape because he was in fact trapped there. Not trapped like in anime with special plot chains that added to the stakes or the elaborate machinations of a worthy foe that challenged his wits, but by mere circumstance. The secret world of Japanese orphanages, which had seemed for so long like the extended version of a private playground only he was privy to, now seemed like an awful sort of play-pretend where he would be executed if he broke character.

That was the moment when he decided he had to get out of the system.

Kokichi picked out the next foster home as far away from Towa city as he could manage and started planning his escape the second he got there.

The oldest kid was seventeen at the time, but very close to eighteen and was a rather weak leader. They didn’t have a lot of future prospects, so Kokichi played his trump card, showing them how he could forge them an on paper identity that would lead to a guaranteed job once they left the system. From there, Kokichi assumed dominance in the home’s internal hierarchy despite being the youngest there. He plotted an intricate series of forgeries, adoptions, and bargains that ended up freeing all of the kids in the home from the system and thusly freeing them from the supervision of any adults at all. There were a total of ten kids, including Kokichi. Those kids would live under the same roof, take care of each other, and steal shit from time to time, eventually becoming the internationally wanted criminal organization DICE.

And things were good. They were the way Kokichi wanted them to be. He had people around to keep him safe and he kept them safe and they lived far far away from Towa City and old men who watched him and bloody little red eyed monsters who threatened to kill kids for being out of bed.

Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t far away at all. Despite his best efforts, he was somehow in Japan again, a bullet train ride away from Towa City. He had almost walked right into Killer girl at Tanegashima.

That made him mad, he thought. That he was the one who had to hide in the bus while she just got to walk around. Like she was a person and not a murderer. Like she hadn’t even been there when she… when she… Kokichi hadn’t even been able to think about it, sitting in the driver seat, safe behind the reflective bus window. It was like every muscle in his body was impossible to relax, each one tensing up as if trying to hold in the shaken nerves trying to tear their way out from under his skin and keep him trapped where he was no matter what his brain said.

Kokichi had felt fear again. Seeing Killer girl again had forced him to.

He hated that. Hated fear. Hated that his body had to be capable of it, his mind even more so. It was a feeling that existed only to let others control him. Like a double agent to the rest of his otherwise genius brain.

Even as Kokichi had physically shook himself from it’s arresting grip as he got out of the bus to hijack an escape car, the fear didn’t seem to quite leave him. Not even after they had stolen the engine and made the cargo transfers and gotten to the apartment they had rented by their construction hangar. The fear still held strong all through DICE's silent dinner as they listened to the confused ramblings of the local police radios. Kokichi could tell from the rest of DICE’s frantic phone typing that it was leaking out of him and poisoning his every thought and action in a way that was entirely visible to everyone around him. He hated it.

Then he realized that maybe his fear had been doing that undetected for even longer. That now he was always running and he was always trapped in the state of running. Maybe the weird rut he had hit in heist planning was because he had started to feel too safe, and what had been motivating him was running from something instead of toward something. Yeah, that happened in video games all the time. The troupe of the evil, soulless emperor who accumulated power only to not be weak. Those were the most pathetic kinds of villains, letting themselves be controlled by their fear like that. It wasn’t the kind of villain Kokichi wanted to be at all.

Kokichi wanted to be free.

And when Kokichi Ouma wanted something, he made sure he got it.

That’s why, the morning after the JAXA heist, Kokichi dropped the blow-torch he had been using to secure the joints on his part of the plane-to-be’s metal skeleton. He had spent the entirety of the previous night researching leads on the present state of the Holy Salvation Society, and the emaciated appearance the sleep deprivation had lended him was about to work wonders for his escape.

King, who was working on the wing a couple feet away, looked concerned, glancing first at the fizzing torch laying on the concrete, and second up at Kokichi’s bandages. “Is something the matter, Boss?” He asked.

Kokichi had wanted to make sure King was the first to notice something was up with him, so he had divided up the rotating work shifts on the plane to be done in groups of two and made sure the two of them were paired.

“Huh?” Kokichi blinked as if waking from a daze. “Oh, sorry. Kinda… Kinda spaced out there for a sec.”

Ok, that got him. King stood up from where he was crouching and came over, picking up the fallen blow torch and turning it off. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Kokichi said too quickly in just the perfect way. “I mean. Obviously not. I’m your one and only genius supreme leader and all that.”

He snatched the torch from King’s hand, but then when it was held in his own Kokichi just stared at it blankly, as if he had forgotten what he was doing.

“Come on boss, you don’t have to keep that up. If something’s wrong you should let someone know...”

Hah. Good. King was the one who seemed most concerned about him after his little tete a tete with a broken vent, so by pretending to bring him into the fold, Kokichi would effectively be able to curb all suspicion away from his disappearance.

“Really… it’s not anything.” Kokichi shook his head some more. “I think… I don’t know maybe I should get some air? Or something? But I gotta stay and do the part of the plane I promised to… I don’t want anyone to think I’m losing my grip after that fall… Yeah forget the walk thing.”

“No!” King was quick to say, taking the torch back from him. “Here, Boss, I can take care of your welding, you already got a lot of it done. If you need some air, get some air. I’ll cover for you if anyone asks.”

Haha. Easy.

“Wow… fell for my trap hook line and sinker… and now I get to go slack off and do.. I dunno, videos game or something... you.. Shouldaa been more careful. Now you gotta do all my work… ha..” Kokichi willfully made his tone and movements more erratic.

“Yeah, sure thing Boss.” King gave him a couple pats on the back. “Go get some air.”

“I’m fine!” Kokichi pretended to try one more time.

“Don’t come back till you feel better!” King shoved him toward the door this time.

“Ugh. You never believe me about anything…” Kokichi muttered as he walked out of the hangar, and, by the way, totally got away with everything. --- [Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Chabashira-san

Hey degenerate

You need to do something for me

From: Me

Hi Tenko! It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I hope you’re doing well. I’m honored you would ask for my help with something, I’ll do whatever I can!

From: Chabashira-san

Don’t talk to me more than necessary

I know you haven’t been keeping your soul pure with neo-aikido since I last saw you

So you’re just as bad for me to be in contact with as any other degenerate

I just need to use your brain for something

Seeing as you’re so good at getting into the minds of criminals and all

From: Me

I’m sorry

What can I do?

From: Chabashira-san

One of my students went missing about a month ago

The TPD’s investigation was entirely useless

I can’t find any female PIs who charge a lower rate than you

So you need to find her

From: Me

Ah, Tenko, you don’t need to pay me. I’d be happy to help. I feel bad about the way we left things off.

From: Chabashira-san

If I don’t pay you then it would be like we were friends

Sorry Shuichi but I can’t be friends with a degenerate

From: Me

Ah, ok I understand

From: Chabashira-san

Stop that then

From: Me

Stop what?

From: Chabashira-san

Understanding

I don’t want you to understand me I want you to solve this case

From: Me

Oh, yes of course.

Do you have any information about this missing person?

From: Chabashira-san

Why?

From: Me

To begin the investigation.

From: Chabashira-san

I can’t trust degenerates with a woman’s personal information…

From: Me

Um I think that a name would be enough to start off

From: Chabashira-san

Start off what?

From: Me

The investigation

From: Chabashira-san

Likely story….

From: Me

Tenko how am I supposed to help you find your missing friend if I don’t know anything about her

From: Chabashira-san

Fine.

Her name is Tsumugi Shirogane.

From: Me

That’s all?

From: Chabashira-san

You said that would be enough

Are you a liar now too

From: Me

No! It’s fine.

I’ll get started right away. --- Shuichi Saihara figured that starting small with one case at a time wasn’t so bad after the massive hit his reputation had just taken. Honestly doing anything at all was better than how he had felt when he got home from Tanegashima to the only voicemail mail on his business line being a call from his uncle asking Shuichi if he was okay and also if he was keeping his old case files organized. Shuichi had lied of course, as one does to the only blood tie who cares about them, saying that things were fine.

They hadn’t been fine.

It seemed like things hadn’t been fine until he got a text from his old patrol partner, Tenko Chabashira. They had worked together in the short period of time before Shuichi got promoted to detective on the Towa city police force. Now, he was walking home from a bar in the lower district of Towa, where apparently Tenko’s missing friend had been employed until very recently. Shuichi had spent a few hours observing the goings on of the bar and picking apart the behaviors of possible suspects, trying to detect any of the patterns of human traffickers. It had been the most normal he had felt in weeks.

It was kind of awful that things only seemed fine to Shuichi in the middle of an incident. When there was a murder that had to be solved, a theft that had to be stopped, or a missing person to be found, he was in his element. He didn’t have to think about personal anxieties, like his friends leaving him or not having his hat around or being put on red notice by Interpol for aiding and abetting acts of grand larceny which could at any moment be decided by the Towa District Court to be reason enough to issue a warrant for his arrest, after which he would be forced to compile a case for his own innocence as he wasted away in the archaic Japanese prison system.

Yeah, he hadn’t had time to think about that in the bar, because he had been on the job. But now he was walking home and that meant he was alone with just the movement of his feet and the circling his various anxieties.

He pulled out his phone, opening his messaging app.

[Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey

Are either of you free to call right now?

I’m walking home alone from a kind of shady area

From: Maki

Kaito’s still at work figuring how to fly a rocket ship without an engine

I’m calling you now

Shuichi’s phone lit up with the call screen before he could even finish reading Maki’s text.

“Hey.” He answered.

“Hi.” Maki replied. “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“No, that’s alright.” Shuichi denied the need for help automatically, “I’m already pretty close to the office. I just had the sudden thought of ‘what if I’m being followed?’ And then I asked myself what would Kaito do? And then the answer to that would be to shout out into the street ‘stop following me!’ even if I didn’t actually know someone was there. But then what Kaito would tell me to do would be to call a friend because you shouldn’t try to do things alone unless you’re him. So then, you know, I decided to call someone.”

“Good instinct.” Maki commented after letting Shuichi ramble. She took on a lighter tone of voice. “But if Kaito was walking home alone, he might think the thing following him was a ghost and pass out.”

Shuichi laughed. “Yeah… Hey, maybe why Kaito really wants to go to space is that no one’s died up there yet so there’s no ghosts...”

“That’s a good theory.” Maki joked, “Although I’m pretty sure some people have to have died in space…”

Oh. That was a new worry. Kaito could just. Not make it to the ISS. There were so many points in space travel where everything could go wrong. What if he went to space and just… never saw them again?

Shuichi kept that thought to himself, thinking that Maki privately worried about that already… Could he say something reassuring instead?

“Well, I’m pretty sure no one’s ever died on the ISS at least.” He tried.

“Yeah, probably not.” Was her reply. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Has anyone died around you lately?”

“Oh, uh. No.” Maki was probably referring to the phenomena she and Kaito had observed where sometimes Shuichi just found out about and solved murders while he was out doing everyday things, like going to the grocery store to deliver a case file detailing a series of embezzlements to the store’s owner who had hired him. But it didn't actually happen as often as they seemed to think! “I’ve got a missing person case though.”

“Ah. Thus the walking in a shady part of town.” Maki deduced.

“Right…”

“You know, I’m off assignment right now. If you need some muscle on this one, I’m available…” She offered.

“Ah, I don’t want to inconvenience you during your break…”

“When has that ever stopped you before?” It sounded like a quip, but Maki said it rather harshly. Shuichi remembered all the cases he had asked for her time on before and felt guilt overcome him.

“Sorry, I really do bother you a lot… You really don’t have to-”

“Wait. No. That’s not what I meant.” Maki sounded frustrated. “I just… Do you remember what I was trying to tell you after we parked in Tanegashima? Before the clowns happened?”

“Oh, I think so.” Shuichi had almost forgotten Maki had promised to ‘talk about this later.’ He’d kind of gotten side tracked by the whole space center being robbed, finding out he was red listed, and having a panic attack about not being able to complete his investigation and help Kaito get his engine back thing. But now that he thought about it, his and Maki’s conversation had been rather important. “You said you didn’t want to be alone again…”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I did say that…” Maki trailed off. Shuichi let her think for a moment, because he knew that sometimes Maki had a hard time verbalizing her emotions right away. “Well, yeah that’s how I feel, I guess. What I wanted to say was… Well, I think that with Kaito leaving soon and all… We should make a more concerted effort to… y’know, look after each other.”

“Of course.” Shuichi had honestly been very worried the past few days about how Maki would handle Kaito’s being gone, even if his mission was being delayed another few months. “I feel the same way…”

“... That’s a relief.” Maki paused again. “You know, last month, when I was away on assignment, I was really worried that you were mad at me.”

“What?” Shuichi recalled the period of time, a little miffed, “Why would I have been mad at you?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, I guess.”

“It matters if it matters to you. Did I do anything that-”

“No. I mean. The reason why I thought you were mad wasn’t why I brought it up. I mean that… Well, thinking that you were mad at me was hard, because I didn’t know how to talk to you when I thought you were mad at me. And it made me think that when Kaito is gone… That I would be alone if I let something like that get in the way of us being friends. Because you two are the reason I’m not alone, you know?”

“Yeah…” Shuichi remembered before he met Kaito and Maki, when he had managed to constantly keep everything that was troubling him under the lockdown of his black baseball cap. Being able to talk to your friends, have people by your side who understood what you were going through and wanted to help you no matter what… It felt like a revelation. “I feel the same way about you two…”

“You know…” Maki cut herself off with a sigh. “Never mind, that’s a weird thing to say.”

“No, go ahead.” Shuichi was rounding the corner onto the block he lived on. “I’m here to listen.”

“Well… it’s just that.” Maki took another pause to think through her words. “You know, I don’t think I even realized that I was a person until college. I thought of myself like… like a thing. I mean. I probably already told you this… but before I met you guys I essentially felt like I was a tool.”

“Oh, Maki…” Shuichi’s heart ached for teenage Maki, who never had the chance to refuse the life thrust upon her…

“But I remember… We were lying in the courtyard together after doing a few pushups… And you and Kaito were talking about something silly… I think it was your favorite movie… And I remember thinking that I didn’t have a favorite movie yet, because I hadn’t had time to watch a lot of them when I was younger, so I would have to ask you guys to show me yours… And that seemed so amazing to me. The fact that I was a normal college age girl who could go out with her friends and watch movies and then choose which one I liked. And I realized that other people just did that all the time. But now I was ‘other people.’ Like, I was people, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” Shuichi was coming up on his door now, and pulled out his key. “Although I think you ought to give yourself more credit. You’ve had to be really strong to get to where you are right now and you did a lot of it on your own, we just were there to-”

Shuichi realized that his door was already unlocked.

“Shuichi? Are you there?” Maki’s voice had a worried edge to it over the speaker.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Shuichi said, putting his keys away as a cold thread of dread shot its way up his spine to wrap in a vice grip around his brain. “I think my mom and dad let themselves into my house…”

“I’m on my way.” Maki replied immediately, hanging up on her end. Probably to get in her car. Unless specified otherwise, Shuichi only ever mentioned his parents being back in town as a code to signal where he was and that he needed help as soon as possible. It was a good code phrase, because it seemed innocent enough if you didn’t know Shuichi’s parents had abandoned him to his mom’s brother when he was ten.

Shuichi put his phone away and only spent a second pondering whether he should wait for Maki before hesitantly pushing open the door. The key to opening a well oiled door silently is to apply pressure through the doorknob to the door in a different direction than you are opening it. Shuichi did so, peeking carefully into his own house.

The living area which Shuichi used to meet with clients was empty, but Shuichi could see up the staircase behind it that led to his main office. The door was closed, and Shuichi couldn’t remember if he had left it that way when he had gone out earlier that day… but there was light coming from beneath it. He had definitely turned off the lights.

Shuichi took off his shoes, not only to keep his floors clean, but also to make his footsteps quieter as he made his way over to the staircase. He made sure to avoid the steps in the stairs that he knew creaked from time to time. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck into his own office, but the experiences he recalled didn’t reassure him about what could be behind that door at all.

He paused before it, worried that the sound of his heartbeat would give him away. No shadows moved under the doorway, and Shuichi couldn’t hear any movement behind it.

Maybe whoever it was had already left… Although he wouldn’t know for sure until he…

Shuichi opened the door.

“Hey.” A clown was leaned back in Shuichi’s office chair with his feet on Shuichi’s desk.

Shuichi shut the door.

He blinked. Submerged in darkness once more.

Uh. He should probably. Open the door again. Because the clown was still in there.

He opened the door again

The clown was gone.

“Rude.”

DICE’s face swung down from the top of the door frame and the thief did a flip as he jumped down from where he had apparently been standing on the ceiling.

Shuichi almost fell back down the stairs, but weirdly enough DICE grabbed his arm.

“Hey now, don’t go falling for me yet!” He exclaimed, seeming strangely enthused at Shuichi’s presence as the detective flailed to rebalance himself.

“What are you- You? What? I-” This could not be happening. Why did this keep happening to him? Could things stop happening to him actually.

“Wow, Detective, I didn’t know you were so dedicated to finding me that you’d break into a poor old man’s house just to catch a glimpse of me…”

“This- this is my house!” Was all Shuichi could think to say.

“Oh, Saihara.” The thief shook his masked head. “Give yourself some credit. Poor? Sure. Old? Well... now that I think of it, look at those eye bags...”

What. What was. What was happening. Why.

“Please leave.” Shuichi said, retracting his arm from the thief’s loose grip.

“Oh?” The thief tilted his head. “Aren’t you gonna rough me up some more? Take me in to the coppers?”

“No.” Shuichi walked past him, looking into the office to see if anything had been stolen.

“Did you reconsider my offer of employment then? Welcome to the te-”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Everything seemed fine, except… some of the files he had organized earlier that day were out of order. “Were you going through my case files?”

“What, those are files? Seemed more like to do lists to me...”

“Please leave.”

“Hmmm. I’ll consider it. Maybe you should beg.”

Shuichi took the case files that had been messed up and arranged them back in order. It looked like these were some cases that his uncle had handled while Shuichi was still in high school.

“Or, you know, hand me one of these fun little picture books you have here.” The intruding man grabbed one of the case files from the homicide section. “Ooh,” He said, turning the file around to show Shuichi a picture of a man who had been murdered with an ax, “This version of red riding hood is so colorful!”

“No!” Shuichi tried to grab it from him, but the man dodged his grip a few times before Shuichi snatched his wrist and wrestled the file from him.

“Owie… mean…” The man whined like he had just before he started bawling on the plane… Hey, Shuichi had never gotten that handkerchief ba- not the time.

“These files contain the personal information of my clients.” He stated, finding his voice easily firm when it came to defending someone other than himself. “I can’t let you look at them without permission.”

“What about a case in this office that contains my personal information?” The thief’s voice was somber now. “Can I look at that?”

Shuichi was starting to tune the thief out as he returned the case file to the proper location. “I gave my file on DICE to-”

“No.” The thief said. “Not DICE’s information. My information.”

Shuichi blinked, turning around to look the thief in the eyes for the first time. What was that intense look? Was the thief’s seriousness an act or...

“... Your information?” He asked, cautiously curious. Had this man been involved with one of his cases without Shuichi’s knowledge?”

“January 12, 2010.” The man said the date as if it were a grave confession.

… That would’ve been one of Shuichi’s uncle’s cases. Shuichi had just organized them at his uncle’s behest, so it took him only a second to find the file the thief was looking for.

It was marked ‘Religious Conspiracy.’

Shuichi opened it, skimming the case summary. This was…

Shuichi slammed the file shut and held it to his chest.

“Sorry. You definitely can’t have this one.”

The thief tilted his head down, the shadows of his mask being accentuated menacingly by the angle. “Are you trying to protect her?” He inquired.

What? How did he-

“You already knew, didn’t you?” He went on. “That your friend was a murderer.”

Shuichi tried to steel the frantic questions racing through his head out of his expression. “...What do you want with Maki’s file?”

“I want the murders to stop.” The clown popped his head up so that light hit the corner of his mask’s smile. “They’re bad for my business you see…”

“Maki doesn’t kill people anymore.” Shuichi insisted. “The Holy Salvation Society was stopped almost a decade ago.”

“You have no idea how big this gets.” The man made a move to step forward.

Shuichi stepped back.

Then there was a bolt of red.

Maki burst in through the door and slammed the thief to the wall of Shuichi’s office throat first.

“Maki, you don’t have to-” Shuichi, started, but Maki didn’t look at him.

Her patented, red-eyed death glare was fixed on the clown.

“What did you just say?” she demanded. --- Kokichi Ouma had been making some pretty stupid mistakes in the past month, but the ones he made today really had to take the cake.

In researching the Holy Salvation Society, he had managed to discover the orphanage-assassin-cult thing they had going on had been busted up by the Haibara and Co Detective agency about a decade ago.

The first mistake was thinking that the detective agency was under the same management it had been at the time of the case.

This had led to his second mistake, getting excited when Shuichi Saihara showed up unexpectedly. It really seemed like this was just his office now. Again, Kokichi had to convince himself that Saihara wasn’t some sort of super human detective machine in order to be properly disappointed with the fact that he was allying himself with a murderer right now.

Third mistake was waiting around long enough for said murderer to show up.

And now Kokichi Ouma was being choked to death by the demon from his childhood nightmares.

Fun!

“What did you just say?” The killer demanded as Kokichi struggled to relieve the pressure in his windpipe. It was strange to him how easy the action was. Seeing Killer girl from thirty meters away was enough to paralyze him, but somehow the struggling came naturally to him when she was trying to kill him.

“Y-you should know better than anyone.” Kokichi choked out, pulling the words entirely from his ass. He had managed to prey on Saihara’s detectively curiosity to identify the file he needed. Threading in something along the same lines should work to aid his escape, right? “A pawn like you… Did you ever think about how many pieces were left on the board after you fell?”

“Say something that means something before you die.”

Oof. Tough ask, Killer girl.

“Those men. Do you know what happened to them? After they went to jail?” If Kokichi were in a regular state of mind right now he might’ve asked the question out of curiosity, but right now the focus of his every thought was towards getting the hell out of here alive. He knew that making it sound like he knew the answer already made it more valuable to keep him not dead.

Now that he was doing plans again, Kokichi faked that he was choking before he actually ran out of air. Killer girl dropped him and he took an exaggerated amount of time to catch his breath. Killer girl got impatient, turning to Saihara.

“What does he mean?” She asked.

“Um… Hold on.” Saihara flipped through the file. “Uh… It looks like most of the Holy Salvation guys died in prison.”

“Tell her what dates.” Kokichi suggested, mostly just to buy time. He was now making an effort to sit in a relaxed position and trying not to think about how much his throat hurt instead of making an ill timed run for it.

“Don’t tell him what to do.” Killer girl ordered him.

“Wait… No, he’s right.” The detective had noticed something. “These dates are… strangely close together… And what’s worse is they’re all marked as ‘suicide’ which, if they were killed before their trial date is just another word for...” He looked down at Ouma. “You think that they were silenced? As some kind of conspiracy?”

Well, now he did. Thanks for that juicy tidbit from your detectivey brain, Saihara.

“Wow, someone catches on fast…” He looked up at Killer girl, meeting her eyes with a derisive look despite every nerve cell in his body screaming at him to run as far away as possible from her. “Just to be clear, I was talking to Shuichi.”

Her fist tightened.

Hahahaha okay as much as Kokichi loved getting threatened within an inch of his life, he really should be going now.

“So are you going to give me the file or not?”

“Not.” Saihara’s response was given the undertone of a growl as Killer girl spoke at the same time, as if the question were directed at her.

“Alright.” Kokichis shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I guess I’ll be taking my investigation elsewhere.” He stood up and dusted himself off, but Killer girl took a step towards him.

“What investigation?” She demanded to know.

Kokichi almost flinched at the harsh tone. Killer girl was giving him a death glare. She didn't seem to recognize him at all. Probably because he had a mask on. Which was a good thing. Except it was also weird, because he knew exactly what she was. Kokichi forced himself to ignore her question, because yuck, murderer, looking at Saihara instead. “Remember how I told you I was a detective in Paris? Well it’s definitely the truth! I’m working a top secret investigation about the new cult activity in Towa City… Interested?” Whoa, wait what? What was Kokichi asking him if he was interested for?

Saihara’s face twisted with concern, and his eyes darted to Killer girl’s for a second. Ew. She wasn’t his girlfriend was she? He could do better. Like. A lot better.

He looked back at Kokichi with some sort of new resolve hardening his gaze. “What can you tell us?” He asked.

Woow, okay… God Saihara was the worst. Somehow having a serial killer bff just made him more interesting. That so wasn’t fair at all. Kokichi just wanted to pick him apart and see what made him tick… OH OH OH. What about a? Could this possibly be? A team up?

“Wow, this is so sudden…” Kokichi crossed his arms, raising one to fan his face demurely while the other snuck into the hidden pocket that he had started keeping smoke bombs in after those last few close calls with the detective. “Asking to join my organization, now, of all times? In this economy?”

Killer girl looked like she was ready to punch a hole in his chest.

Shuichi frowned, “I didn’t say-”

“Oh, but.” Kokichi palmed one of the smoke bombs, raising the hand it was in up to cross his arms the other way and make a face that indicated he was thinking. “Getting into DICE is a prestigious thing… the national exams aren’t for another half a year…” Kokichi tried to convey his ear to ear grin through his mask. “But I like you, Detective, so I’ll give you a different kind of test.”

Saihara looked rather aggrieved at the notion. “Are you going to make me play rock paper scissors again?”

Haha… Good times… “No… This is a different kind of test.” Kokichi extended his hand forward, pointing it at Shuichi. “I’ll come find you, when you pass.”

Then he threw down the smoke bomb.

Just before it exploded, Kokichi saw Killer girl rear back out of the corner of his eye.

He dodged her punch just in time as the smoke enveloped both of them.

He heard the crunch of the wall behind him.

He forced himself to move through the shock the sound sent through his bones.

By the time she got her fist out of the wall, Kokichi would be far, far away from this place.

After all, the daring escape was one of his better skills as a master thief.

It had been since before he could even remember. --- Shuichi Saihara was rather outgoing for someone with social anxiety. It was an outcome of his job as a detective, which required the maintenance of a large web of contacts. But on a good day Shuichi had less than ten friends in the whole world, and on a bad day he had two. Those two friends were Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa and they were the most important people in the world to him.

That was why, as the smoke cleared in his office and he realized that Maki had punched a hole in his wall, the thought didn’t even occur to him to be mad at her.

“Damn it.” She growled, extracting her arm from Shuichi’s wall, before giving chase to the thief that had just run out the office door.

There she goes again…

Like Shuichi said before, Maki liked to muscle her way through problems. Although he wasn’t sure running after DICE was the best course of action after his own track record, Maki’s ability to chase after criminals was definitely a huge asset in most mystery solving scenarios… Shuichi had kind of been dragging Maki and Kaito into his cases ever since he met them the first year of college. Shuichi would use his detective brain, Maki would use her body guard muscles, and Kaito would use his… Well, it actually was kind of a wildcard whether or not Kaito would do something helpful on most investigations. Sometimes he was mostly moral support, other times he would have the one obscure trivia fact from his astronaut training that would blow the case wide open, or he would make the call that Shuichi didn’t know how to. Other times… ok this kind of sounded bad, but sometimes Kaito would be bait in an elaborate trap to capture the criminal they were investigating. Usually he volunteered though! Or Maki would promise to bake something for him…

Any which way, he was good to have around. At the very least, without him, Shuichi was left in his office alone as Maki gave chase. Kaito would probably suggest they chase after Maki, but Shuichi knew that more often than not they just got in her way. So, instead of giving chase, Shuichi double checked his office to make sure bringing up Maki’s file hadn’t been a distraction while the thief grabbed something else. Nothing was missing except the chunk of Shuichi’s wall Maki had punched through, so Shuichi turned off the lights in his office and went back downstairs to the main living area. He turned on the lamp, going over to sit on one of the couches his clients usually used.

He cracked open the case file.

January 12, 2010.

Shuichi had known his uncle had handled this case. Maki had told him as much during their second year at TCC. So theoretically, he knew that he had this case file somewhere in the office, but he had never thought to look for it before.

Analyzing the details confirmed things that he already knew. The Holy Salvation Society was a religious cult that trained child assassins under the guise of philanthropic patronage to a local orphanage.

He remembered Maki whispering in a distant tone of voice meant for only him and Kaito as her words exposed her past under the cover of a starlit night. She spoke of the old men who assessed her and her friend. How she had been certain that the training would destroy the only person in the world who mattered to her. How she had been desperate to save the orphanage. How she had come back from her training to visit one day just to find out her friend died in a car crash. That she hadn’t been there to protect her at all. That everything she had done was pointless. That death just happened. It was inevitable and there was nothing she could do about it, not even the death wrought by her own hands.

… What did DICE have to do with this case? The trail of misdemeanors attributed to them went back farther than the Holy Salvation Society bust, which was strange… It was one of the reasons Shuichi had found the organization so suspicious, having gone unchecked for so long… especially now that he knew the leader was so young. If Shuichi had to place him, he would pin him as maybe in his mid twenties. That would mean he would’ve been just a kid when the DICE thefts started occurring… Maybe he was a copycat for the original? Or maybe it was some sort of legacy organization-

Wait a second, Shuichi was on red notice. He shouldn’t be looking into DICE anymore if he didn’t want to end up arrested… But if DICE was somehow involved with the Holy Salvation Society, could Shuichi risk looking into it?

… There wasn’t really a question. If it was for Maki there was no other option.

The door opened, startling Shuichi. He turned to see Maki standing in the doorway. She looked at him. Then she closed the door again. The doorbell rang.

“Uh, come in,” Shuichi called, a little perplexed.

Maki opened the door again, entering to stand just inside and close the door behind her.

“I… didn’t catch him.” She reported. A shadow in the doorway obscured her face, but Shuichi could see the hand that held the doorknob very clearly. Her knuckles were curled and made white by tensed muscles. The faintest scuff marks from her encounter with Shuichi’s wall were starkly red against them. “Sorry. About your wall.”

“It’s alright.” Shuichi assured her, shutting the case file and putting it down on the coffee table while he stood to greet her. “Come in, take off your shoes, sit down.” He invited.

Maki took another second, gripping the doorknob and looking down at her hand. Then she took a deep breath and followed his directions, taking off her shoes one at a time and walking one foot in front of the other to sit on the couch he had gestured to.

“Do you want something to drink?” Shuichi asked. Maki seemed… rather distressed at the sudden resurgence of the Holy Salvation Society case… and that was completely understandable and Shuichi needed to make sure Maki knew that it was completely understandable. Sometimes doing something physical like drinking a glass of water could distract his brain long enough for him to calm down.

“No.” Maki replied, not seeming to think about it very long. “I don’t. You don’t need to…” Maki’s frozen expression broke and she put a hand over her face to cover it. “Sorry, I’m just processing a lot of… a lot of feelings right now.”

“Yeah, okay. You’ve just been through a lot.” Shuichi sat down next to her, wanting to lend whatever emotional support he could right now, but he wasn’t sure he was the best person for it. “Do you want to call Kaito?”

“No.” She said very quickly. “No. He… He’d… He feels responsible for me. I’ve… Shuichi I’ve worked so hard to not have to look up to him. To view myself as his equal… And there’s… nothing he can do about this. It would only make him worry…”

“Well, not telling him is making me worry about you…” Shuichi knew that being open about her emotions was something that Maki had worked very hard to do for a very long time. He remembered her mentioning that it was one of the things her therapist asked her to work on.

“Yeah, well. You already worry about everything anyway.” She asserted rather gruffly.

Oof… She got him there…

“Sorry that was…” Maki paused, bringing her hands down to grip at her knees. She was chewing her lip so hard Shuichi was afraid it would start bleeding. “Not what I wanted to say.”

“... That’s okay. A lot just happened to you.”

“... Yeah.” It was clear Maki was keeping a lot of her thoughts inside her head. “I just… I don’t want Kaito to have to feel responsible for me right now. If I told him about this… this fucking… it’s just… He’d try to take it all on, you know?”

“Yeah…” Shuichi said. “Part of why you gotta love him…”

“I know, I just…” Maki’s face screwed tight and she looked away. “I just don’t want him to feel like he has to love me. I don’t know why he bothers…”

“Because you’re an amazing person who cares about him and he doesn’t care about what happened in your past.”

“... I love him so much, Shuichi.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I want him to be safe. I … need to take care of him…”

“I know.” Shuichi remembered the last time he had seen Maki this emotional. She had been so worried before she confessed to Kaito. So certain that she was about to mess up everything good in her life forever. “He wants to take care of you too. So do I. You’re important to us.”

“I never… I never did anything to deserve people like you in my life…”

“Maki, we-”

“Stop. You’re gonna make me-” Maki stopped herself, taking a couple deep breaths. She lifted her head to stare straight ahead, every muscle in her face tensed.

“It’s okay to cry Maki…”

“I. I can’t.” She took another breathing break. “I don’t want to… I know I’m supposed to be more honest with my… With the way that I feel. About things. And that it’s a sign of recovery to know that… that what happened to me really was that bad… but I still can’t bring myself to cry about it. It seems wrong. Like. I don’t deserve it. Somehow. Like, I wasn’t the real victim in all of it. I. I made victims, Shuichi. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t feel like one.”

“Maki, you were thirteen when it started. Imagine you met a thirteen year old girl now and she told you that what happened to you happened to her. Would you blame her?”

“But I chose…”

“Would you blame her?”

“I… No. I think I would…” Her grip on her knees tightened. “ I would help her. I would put an end to it.”

Shuichi wondered if he should ask her to elaborate on that or if it only make her more upset…

Maki kept going when he didn’t respond.

“You said that… that those men might’ve been silenced. That there was something… Something bigger behind it that could still… still be...” She looked at him, and for the first time, looking head on into her gaze, Shuichi could see the real, palpable terror that consumed Maki’s being in that moment. He had never seen his friend this scared about anything in her entire life. “Do you really think that? That… that it could be true?”

“Ah, well… It’s unlikely that anything on the scale of what the Holy Salvation Society used to be could operate in Towa City now…” That was the optimistic side, but Shuichi didn’t want to lie to her… “But I don’t know that we can say for sure whether or not some sort of coverup occurred or who could have been involved in it…”

She blinked at him, then looked down at her hands as if she noticed that they were shaking for the first time. “Things were supposed to be better now…” She cut herself off, grimacing. “God… this not knowing… it’s the worst feeling in the world… Is this how you feel about everything all the time?”

Shuichi wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a crack about his anxiety or a genuine question, so he shrugged, “More or less.” He said. Then he thought maybe that was the wrong thing to say. “But, I mean, your concern that the evil religious cult of assassins you grew up in may still exist in some form in our home town seems like a more reasonable thing to have anxiety about than my tendency to faint like a goat if someone looks at me the wrong way.”

Maki squinted at him. “Maybe… but it’s not your fault, that that stuff’s so serious to you, you know… My therapist would tell you… ‘it’s the childhood trauma, Shuichi.’”

Shuichi knew that the typical definition of a trauma was a life threatening experience, but life threatening experiences had seemed normal to his profession since he picked up his first murder case at 14, so he wasn’t really sure if they counted. He kept that thought to himself, though, because he didn’t want that to be the way that Maki thought he thought about her real childhood trauma.

“What you’re going through isn’t your fault either.”

“I… I know that.” Maki frowned. “I should know that. Logically, I know that. I’ve… I’ve been to all the counselling they assigned me. I have a therapist. Things are supposed to be better, but…”

It didn’t look like she could finish the thought, so Shuichi made his best guess.

“...But now you’re not even sure if it is supposed to be better, because the case may not even be closed?”

Maki nodded.

Shuichi made a decision, right there and then.

“Maki, can I touch your hand right now?”

She nodded again.

Shuichi put his hand on one of hers. Her hand felt as cold as ice and as hard as a rock under his grip, but Maki’s shoulders seemed to relax, reassuring Shuichi that it was the appropriate gesture to precede what he was about to say.

“I want to make you a promise.” He said, mustering up every ounce of firmness in his voice for his next words. “I’ll look into this case for you, and I won’t rest until I find the truth that will put you at ease.”

Maki looked at him now, and Shuichi could see the fragment of hope in her eyes.

“... Idiot.” She corrected the soft look with a harsh tone of voice. “Making a promise like that… you’re just as bad as him.”

“Maki…” Shuichi thought about how to phrase this. “You don’t have to handle them all on your own again.”

“I… I know.” She looked away again and Shuichi thought maybe she was trying not to cry again too.

He retracted his hand.

“Here I’ll get you some water.”

Shuichi stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

“Shuichi.”

He turned around at the sound of his friend’s voice. Maki still sat on the couch, hunched up and tense. But her face was tilted towards him, and in the lamp light Shuichi could see the glistening outline of a tear running down one side of her face.

“Thank you.” She said, tersely.

“Of course.” Shuichi replied, his heart warming.

It felt good to be useful for something after all. --- [Log of Text Messages from Tenko Chabashira’s Cellular Device]

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Hi Tenko. I hope you’re having a good day. Here is a file with a list of leads from observing criminal activity and behaviors in the vicinity of Ms. Shirogane’s daily transit from her home to her work to your dojo to the store she got her groceries and to the store she got her cosplaying supplies. It would be helpful for the investigation if you could tell me if any of these leads sound familiar to you so that I may investigate more directly.

[Shuichi Saihara sent a file “Shirogane_Leads.doc”]

Also, just letting you know that an associate of mine has brought to my attention a case that may make me unavailable at times to give you updates on Ms. Shirogane’s case. If this is not amenable to you, I can recommend another PI that could take up the case based on the leads I have provided.

From: Me

That is unacceptable

I demand that you drop this other case immediately and put all of your attention on finding Tsumugi

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

I am sorry. I know this is rather unprofessional of me, but this associate is a close friend of mine and I feel that I must prioritize her case above all else.

From: Me

Wait it’s a girl you’re helping?

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Uh yes

From: Me

Fine

You have Tenko’s permission

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Thank you?

From: Me

I read your document

I have seen those people in the yellow robes around too

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Really?

From: Me

Yes

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Is there anything you can tell me about them?

From: Me

They are

Annoying

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa #drv3 #writing #i know i just did a bunch of art but this is still updating weekly on ao3 haha #sorry if i'm being cringe on main 😔

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mischiefiswritten · 6 years ago

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What Otome Has Taught Me About Writing Romance (and Some Other Things)

Alright, time for me to come clean about my love for visual novels and otome games. (Otome, if you're not familiar with it, is a genre of games with female protagonists that tells a love story, allowing the player to choose a suitor and make choices along the way that influence the ending. It's fantastic fun.) Aside from being an excellent little diversion, it's actually proved to be a useful tool when it comes to writing elements of romance into any WIP.

On with the Show

Otome games tend to be relatively short, so they need to pack a lot in to every chapter or episode. The best of them manage to cram in a full range of emotion and a cohesive plot to forge a memorable experience in relatively few words. I'm not suggesting that novels or other fictional formats need to be stripped down to their barest word counts, but there's something extremely valuable about being able to convey important elements of a story with economy. For one thing, your readers are probably busy people, just like you. They don't have unlimited time to read all the things they want to read, and if you spend too much time saying nothing at all (like in exposition), they might drop your story in favor of something else.

Now, there's no perfect formula for when to launch into the action of a story - each one is different and calls for something different! Personally I love to have some time for introduction at the start of a novel, not just so that I know who the characters are, but also so that I have a chance to crawl inside the world and live there before having serious plot to keep up with. That said, I have a 100 page rule - I only require myself to give a book 100 pages to convince me to stay. If I hit page 100 and I'm still saying, "what is this book going to be about? when is something going to happen?" there's a very good chance I'm outta there.

In contrast, if you jump into the deep end of the action immediately, readers may lack a sense of why they're supposed to care. These characters are distressed? That's a bummer, but if the reader never sees who they are and what their lives are like without the drama, they may have less passion for seeing that drama resolved. Like everything else in writing, this is a balancing act. It's all about finding your sweet spot so the progression from opening your book's cover to finding yourself swept into the narrative can seem as natural as possible and get the best emotional and intellectual investment from your readers.

Cheap Drama Feels Cheap

Your readers are intelligent people. Don't try to fool them into thinking there's real drama and suspense somewhere there's not because they'll be able to tell right away. It's annoying to most readers, especially when excellent characters - like yours! - are wasted on it. The otome routes that get dropped somewhere in the middle and receive the absolute worst reviews are the ones that feature the 'easily-resolved misunderstanding' trope. It's. The. Worst.

Terrible misunderstandings happen all the time in real life and in fiction, and the ensuing conflict (or disaster) can be extremely rewarding for the audience. "NO!!" it will make them scream as they clutch the book thinking about how it doesn't have to be this way. If only the characters knew, if only they realized! It's not the unnecessary nature of the issue that makes it cheap - it's how easily it's resolved. If there's an easy answer conveniently within your characters' grasp and no reason for them to not realize it or not take it, it will bug your readers.

One of the most infamous examples is when the female protagonist glimpses her suitor for a total of 20 seconds innocently talking to/hugging/putting a hand on the shoulder of/etc. an unidentified girl, and immediately sprints away, tears streaming from her eyes, despairing that the man she adores does not really love her after all and has been unfaithful. O woe, that this strange woman was chosen over her! Curse the vixen who stole her suitor's heart! The female protagonist then uproots everything good that was happening, abandons it all and runs far away. She ignores his and everyone else's attempts at communication until, in a crescendo of needless drama, the suitor travels a great distance to corner her and say,"yo, that was my sister."

Are you rolling your eyes? You should be rolling your eyes. Think of all the things anyone with any sense could have done in this situation. Stayed for another minute to hear the conversation. Walked up and asked to be introduced. Left after a minute or two, but asked about it later. Answered the phone when he called.

The bottom line is this: don't let your story's conflicts have easy answers. Especially not multiple easy answers. Take away the simple resolutions! Make every option cost your characters something!

Emotion Must Be Earned

I mentioned above that if you dive into the drama of your story too quickly, you risk losing the readers' investment in your characters and plot. That's because emotion must be earned. This goes for both your readers and your characters.

You can't just tell your readers they should care about what's happening to your characters and actually expect them to. Even if you have the cutest, most squee-worthy romantic scenes in store, they'll feel hollow without the proper buildup. This happens all the time in otome (and other forms of fiction) where it seems like the writer was in a hurry to just get to the butterfly-inducing romance already! You read through a scene, and oh my gosh that dialogue nearly made you swoon, but... when that initial "OMG" fades, you're left feeling like something was missing. That thing was the feeling of resolved tension, or a triumph over struggles - something to make you say, "Finally!"

You have to make them work for it. It's not about being super clever, or surprising your reader with the build of emotions or the happily ever after. No one starts an otome game under the impression the main characters may not fall in love, after all. But there has to be something that keeps them apart for a while, some will-they-won't-they limbo, or that "ohohoho they're catching feeeelings!" process that makes the characters coming together feel like a win.

The bottom line is this: When romances are quickly and easily achieved, they feel cheaper.

You Can't Rush Love

The characters need some understandable reasons for feeling as they do about one another, as well. Even if it's some intangible 'it' factor that can't quite be explained, readers want to really feel like these people belong together. Otome routes with multiple seasons can fall into this trap pretty easily. When the writers want to get from the first season story of meeting and falling in love directly to season two getting married and talking about babies, it can feel like something very important was skipped. Like where their relationship naturally progressed and grew from that new, fresh whirlwind romance to serious life plans. (This works the worst when there's no time jump at all, or very little time is supposed to have passed.) The wedding and baby dialogue may be as swoony as Pride & Prejudice, but readers still don't want to have the nagging question "How did these people get to this point in their relationship?" in the back of their minds.

Sometimes this happens without time jumps or milestones, and the couple seems to leap from flirtation and new possibilities to 'I-would-die-for-you-and-without-you' levels of love. Like above, maybe it leads to great scenes, and maybe this part of the story is actually very well written, but if you're left asking "what did I miss?", there's a problem there. Along with earning your readers' emotional investment, you have to earn their belief. As a writer, it's your job to convince readers that this is a relationship worth rooting for - something that can last, or at least burn brightly before its bittersweet ending. If it's real love, your readers have to be able to grasp why: why these people are a couple, why they're meant to be, etc.

Keep 'Em Coming Back

If you've played much otome at all (particularly free-to-play mobile otome), you're familiar with the typical ticketed reading system. In most of these games, you only get to read about half a chapter a day unless you pay for additional tickets, divided up into about five shorter segments. Along the way there are often checkpoints you have to pass by raising scores by completing tasks and mini-games and the like - and sometimes it takes a while (several days or even a week or two) to obtain the resources you need to continue reading!

And what's this got to do with writing? One word: pacing.

In otome, the story has to be good enough and each cut-off tantalizing enough that you 1) cash in all your free tickets each day, 2) want to come back each day to keep reading, and 3) are motivated to take the time to pass checkpoints. This means the game writers have to master their cliffhanger game as well as overall pacing. Not all the cliffhangers are of the type that probably jumped to mind upon first reading this. It doesn't always have to be a sudden and imminent danger, a shocking revelation, or other plot twist. Often it's dangling a sweet, romantic moment in front of players or otherwise developing a character through backstory or some meaningful event. The romance genre is largely about discovering the character of a person, all their dimensions and convolutions, and that journey of discovery can be an extremely useful tool for maintaining interest chapter to chapter and throughout the story.

Usually, if an otome route is going to drag, it's going to be in the middle. Perhaps this is because the writers had few compelling ideas for that portion of the plot, which is another topic for another day, but regardless of the genesis of the problem, it can kill a story. Life is busy, time for games and reading is limited, and content to play and read is plentiful. If a story becomes dull for a long stretch in the middle with no end to the doldrums in sight, it can easily be abandoned and forgotten about. At the same time, things can't be explosions and adrenaline-fueled car chases all the time. The less glamorous, less obviously exciting bits of a story are often where its soul takes shape and future payoffs are set in motion, so the trick is not to eliminate the quiet moments but to intersperse moments that make readers need something new. New questions they need answered, new angles they need explored, new emotions they need to experience again.

Your writing is not likely to be diced up to the extent an otome game is, but it's equally important to keep the middle from sagging and to provide that "just one more chapter!" feeling for your readers. Be careful not to make too many assumptions about the attention spans of readers - they need to be kept wanting more!

Don't Drag Out the Dark

Most people like a solid infusion of angst into their media. There's nothing wrong with a dark night of the soul your characters and readers can experience together, but you have to make sure there's some promise of dawn. If things get too abysmal for too long, people may be tempted to put the story down. I myself have been on hiatus with an otome game I absolutely love for more than too years because the route I was playing was simply too depressing! Life has a lot of challenges in store for all of us, and seeing fictional characters triumph over their own hardships can make even the darkest times more bearable. It's important to remember, however, that readers invest heavily in your characters - their burdens become the readers' burdens. Even when life isn't putting you through your paces, you can have a long day, and at the end of a long day, you may not have the energy to plunge headlong into the enduring agony of a novel. If readers feel like the terrible things happening to your characters are never going to end, they may simply lose the will to keep reading, despite loving what you've set up.

Like anything else, it's about balance. As readers, we tend to like being strung along by glimpses of better times ahead, or at least something to make the struggles worthwhile. Happiness makes pain more meaningful. Peace makes strife more striking. There has to be substance to the sadness. A reason for it, and an end to it - even if the ending is tragic. Be creative about what constitutes a good reason (a lesson learned, a sacrifice made, etc.) and also take into account what you advertise vs. what you deliver. (i.e. readers will be much more amenable to a sorrowful tale if they knew that's what they were getting into than if they were sold a happy-go-lucky romcom.)

At the end of the day, what's most important is how the story makes you feel.

I never pay for otome games. I opt for free-to-play offerings instead, and this has in no way impacted the quality of games I've had access to. Most of my favorites are not those with all the bells and whistles like animation and voice acting, those with the highest art budgets, or those from the most popular companies. They're the ones that people poured their hearts into and created earnestly and lovingly, starting where they were and using what they had.

And that is the bottom line of every piece of writing advice I could ever give. A lot of flaws can be overlooked in favor of the emotions a story evokes. Who cares if it was not told as artfully as another so long as it made you feel something real? Storytelling skills are marvelous, but when all is said and done, it's not the telling that matters most. The story itself is what counts.

I hope you believe in the story you have inside of you. I do! Thanks for making it to the end of this super long post (sorry but only kind of) and please feel free to share your thoughts on this topic with me.

#super long post #writeblr #writing #writing advice #strategies & tips #mischiefiswritten #this has been in my drafts for so long

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leonawriter · 7 years ago

Text

To Change A Sombre Morrow (chapter twelve)

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Characters: Genesis, Yuffie, assorted others.

Summary: Time travel is that one kind of thing where it’s the plot of figuring out who you are in the dark, because the only ones watching are either ghosts, or memories. Genesis is working on it. It’s taking time.

...

The most irritating thing about being put into a war you no longer had any interest in fighting for, Genesis had to say, was the fact that there was no longer any sense of interest in it.

There was nothing holding him there, and when accosted by Wutaian soldiers it was sometimes hard to remember to take things seriously.

Especially when the last thing he wanted was to accidentally tell his entire contingent that he didn't even want these people dead.

Well, no, strictly speaking that would be a lie; after long enough with what often felt like hardly an hour passing without yet another Wutai spy or soldier crawling out of the woodwork like ants or lice...

His patience was getting thin enough that if they hadn't been in the middle of a forested area, the next one who tried to attack them on the sly would have ended up with a face full of fireball. The last one had come close. It had only been the result of Genesis' own not inconsiderable ability to control the strength of his spells that had resulted in one shocked and singed Wutaian, and a few scorched but otherwise unharmed trees.

His unit was currently only approximately a mile away from Fort Tamblin, and he himself was perched up in a tree some distance from the perimeter of the town Shinra's forces had taken over a few months back, not even caring about what the reactions would be to the hole in his coat opening up again when it had been threatening to do so for some time now, and if his wing hadn't undone all of that hard work, then the sharp branches and bark of the tree he was in would have done the trick.

All in all, the peace and quiet away from inquisitive troops was something that he'd been in sore need of. The one thing that made things less than perfect had to be the sheer amount of things that seemed to think that just because he had feathers and wasn't currently feeling like moving, it clearly meant that he was free real estate to be crawled over and to be used as a hiding place.

Not for the first time, he flipped his PHS open, and thumbed his way into the spam folder of his messages. Knowing the sorts of people who could potentially hack into his phone if they decided that they wanted to, he had long since decided that it was hardly worth the bother of attempting anything too blatant of an attempt at keeping secrecy.

The last mail from that particular number flashed up on the screen.

You've been quiet.

The message was dated several days ago.

If nothing else, they'd come to the decision that if the Turks were going to find out that Genesis was having discussions with someone that bordered on treason, then they'd also find out a few interesting home truths about the company they were paid to be lapdogs for.

As yet, no one had. Despite the part of him that was relieved for it, there was another part that was almost disappointed in them.

I've been leading a squad into an active war zone. Which isn't entirely new territory for me, but it has been some time. 'Quiet' is the last word I'd use to describe it.

He hesitated for a moment, before sending.

It wasn't wrong for him to say that it wasn't new territory - he had done this sort of thing before. Many times. He, along with Sephiroth, Angeal, and many others - some of whom had survived, while others had not - had led troops onto the field of war, living up to the name of SOLDIER. It was where their other titles had come from, those of General and Commander. Ones that... well, perhaps they didn't hold the same official status as First Class, but anyone who'd been involved in the war at all came away knowing that while there were plenty of SOLDIERs of any rank, there was only one General, and there were only two Commanders.

It was easy to forget when he was surrounded by Shinra propaganda again, how the idea that he had become known as the Crimson Commander because of his hair, his coat, and his sword was not strictly true-

His PHS chimed. Only a few minutes since he'd sent his reply, and there was a response already.

Anything to be concerned over?

In another timeline, several hundred or so people would be dead or as good as by now. Several of whom had been showing concern over him in the past few days.

No.

It was the truth, after all.

I have a plan.

There was movement underneath him, and it took all of his willpower to stay still, not twitch, and not shake the feathers of his wing to get rid of the itch that was starting to form. In the time it took Vincent to respond, he'd sent a quick mail to one of the Seconds to inform them that Wutaian forces had been spotted some distance from their camp.

Your last plan resulted in you almost dying. I'm tempted to bring a fire extinguisher.

He rolled his eyes, and pointedly chose not to respond to that.

You can't change anything if you're dead. Remember that.

...

The first time he'd met her, she had thoroughly ignored him.

Genesis had walked through the door of Seventh Heaven behind Cloud, Weiss a dead weight in his arms. A dark haired woman in black had sat behind the bar, talking animatedly to a younger woman with shorter dark hair, but they'd looked up at the intrusion.

Cloud had explained, in short, who Genesis was, introduced Tifa, and what was going on. About Weiss.

The one he had been told was Tifa had narrowed her eyes at him, but then put all of her focus on Cloud, asking him what was needed, and if they should be contacting Reeve - a name that had struck him as familiar, yet he hadn't thought at the time that it could possibly have been the executive he had once only seen in tedious meetings.

The other one, however, he wouldn't find out much more about until later, and the most he was given at the time was her name, when Tifa had asked after her, apparently concerned about something.

Yuffie, he had learned. And filed the information away for another time, deeming it unimportant, and he had summarily ignored her just as she had him.

After all, he had other matters to attend to, higher priorities. Anything else was easy to brush aside, especially given how he had still been recovering from mana depletion and his fight with Cloud.

He hadn't thought it odd, at the time.

Later he would hear her name again, and wonder why it sounded vaguely familiar, but then get distracted with something else - something more pressing, something more important than someone who didn't seem to want anything to do with him.

The pattern had continued. The girl seemed plenty animated enough with the others, but the moment he would walk into a room, she would trail off or pointedly ignore his presence entirely.

Cloud would twitch for his sword every time he saw Genesis' wing unfurl from his back. Tifa would watch him closely, enough to make him wonder if he'd run into her at some point before to draw her ire, but she never said anything, and he preferred not to poke at sleeping guard dogs. Shelke, dressed in normal clothes and slowly acclimatising to life outside of Deepground herself, had rarely gone out of her way to interact with him, aside from the calculating looks she had sent and the one time she had told him, bluntly, that he wasn't quite so impressive as the files and reports that she had managed to find on him had suggested.

Compared to all of them, Yuffie's avoidance was nothing out of the ordinary, especially when she wasn't even always around.

And then, the monster attacks had started.

Even if he wanted to, Genesis could no longer remember what had started it, but someone had suggested that he and Yuffie should go together to investigate.

Yuffie had refused.

"Oh, this should be real interestin'," he'd heard Cid mutter darkly as everyone's attention had begun to focus in on the two involved.

Cloud had shrugged, eyes narrowing in a familiar way.

"Next to me, you're the one who knows the most about materia. And Genesis knows more than both of us." Ordinarily he would have preened at the compliment, even as matter of fact as it was, but something about the incident had been holding his attention. "We need to find out what's going on, and if it involves materia, then you're the ones best suited to figuring that out."

Despite the praise that had also been aimed her way, Yuffie had merely crossed her arms defiantly, expression stony.

"You think I don't know how good he is with materia? I do, and I don't care! I'm not working with him, and you can't make me!"

Something had struck him about her wording, a sudden sense of urgency in the back of his mind telling him that there was something that he had needed to remember, but it had merely made him frown. Regardless of whatever issue she had with him, there were such things as priorities.

"Yuffie-"

"Don't 'Yuffie' me! He might be acting nice, but he's nothing more than a monster!"

Old wounds ached, and Genesis' fist had clenched, leather creaking at the word. He had spent years believing that what she was saying was true. In many ways, it still was, with his inhuman wing garnering stares whenever it came out.

But he had come face to face with the Goddess and come away rejected but alive, and he had made promises, to himself even if to no other, and held other words close, or tried to. That SOLDIER... didn't mean monster. It was something to live up to, at least.

"Yuffie, that's enough."

Cloud's voice had snapped him back to reality, and he had breathed in with a hiss, his jaw clenched.

"You want to know what they called him? Do you? They called him 'the Crimson Commander'. When he was destroying my home. They'd burn villages and crops and kill people and then they'd go back home and get called heroes." A part of him had wanted to refute that, say that it had only been Sephiroth who had been lauded as the hero, but he'd held back. And then, for the first time, she had turned to him, looked him in the eye in the midst of the silence. "You can't even try to deny it, can you?"

He couldn't. It wasn't as though she was wrong.

"That was a long time ago," he said instead. "People change."

The one thing that he would never forget about the entire exchange, was how Yuffie's face - so often open while around other people, full of confidence and immaturity - twisted with anger and ugly hatred.

"You," she had said, hands gripping her upper arms and voice barely holding in her emotions, "will never be a hero."

...

The fact that he's cleaning blood from his sword with a dark frown as he walks back into camp might contribute to the way that he notices that the SOLDIERs and infantry alike give him a wide berth for a while. It makes his jaw tense, the way that some of them look at him, but he consoles himself with the fact that it's probably safer this way - safer that they're keeping a distance while he's in a foul mood and lost in old memories of places and people now lost to him.

One of the Wutai soldiers had waited around instead of going with the others.

Having been on his own, it shouldn't have been that big of a deal; he could have encouraged the man to leave, planting the idea that he had motives that were separate from Shinra's orders.

The world, however, was far from perfect. Genesis had only seen that there was anyone else still there after he had come down out of the tree he had been sitting in, his wing still on full display as he used it in order to float effortlessly down.

Dead men didn't speak - especially dead men who weren't called Sephiroth. Not dead men who had no trace of Jenova, and no connection to any Ancients.

That was all the Wutai were, when it came down to it.

Ordinary people, with no real power, and no connection to anything that would give them that power. They would be crushed under Shinra in any and every timeline because of this, because no matter how hard they fought, compared to SOLDIER they had no chance. None at all.

Blood stained the cloths he was using to clean Rapier crimson, and Genesis knew that it was going to take more than that to clean his sword.

#final fantasy vii #ffvii #ff7 stuff #to change a sombre morrow verse #Leona fic

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exxar1 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 12: “The Solitary In Families”

3/9/2021

- 1 -

Last week, one of my Facebook friends posted a Lent devotional that was centered around Psalm 68. The title caught my eye as I scrolled through my feed. “God Sets The Lonely In Families.” That phrase grabbed me, and, after reading the short devotional (which was quite good), I opened my Bible app and looked up Psalm 68. Verses 5 & 6 made me pause.

“A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy habitation. God sets the solitary in families; He brings out those who are bound into prosperity; but the rebellious dwell in a dry land.” (NKJV)

The verse that my friend quoted was from the NIV, and it had substituted the word ‘lonely’ for ‘solitary’. God sets the lonely in families.

As I announced in my New Year’s resolutions back in December, one of my goals for 2021 was to join a church. Unfortunately, due to the current pandemic restrictions still in place in this blue communist state of Nevada, my Google search only turned up the larger churches with congregations of more than a thousand. Thanks to a recent battle with the Nevada supreme court, COVID restrictions were eased in December to allow group meetings of no larger than 250 or 25% of the allowed legal capacity of any one place. (Or something to that effect. All I remember from the headlines was that this was a victory for local churches.)

However, the two Baptist churches that Pastor Sjostrom and I thought might be a good fit for me – based solely on the info from their websites – were only offering the live stream option. Their auditoriums were – and are – still closed for in-person services. So, for all of January, I contented myself with enjoying Grace Baptist’s live stream from Twin Falls, Idaho, every Sunday morning in my pajamas, with my coffee and my Bible close at hand.

But then, one Saturday morning, as I unlocked my front door, I saw a small flyer tucked into the bars of my outer screen door. It was from a small Baptist church right in my neighborhood. From the brief outlines of introductory info on the card, it appeared to be exactly what I was looking for! I immediately plopped on the couch, woke up my MacBook, and pulled up the church’s website. The info there was even more encouraging, so I emailed the pastor. I introduced myself, asked him if he was holding in-person services, and if so, I would love to come visit.

I didn’t hear back from him. The first week of February passed, and every day I would check my junk mail folder several times to make sure I hadn’t accidently missed his reply. So I emailed him again, and this time I caught his response the following morning. This church was indeed holding in-person services, and the pastor said he would love to see me that following Sunday. I emailed him back with a couple other questions based on the info from his website, and he responded later that day. His answers were what I had been hoping to hear, so I told him I would see him on Sunday!

Now, I’m going to pause here, and tell you something you already know about me – both from my previous blog entries and those of you who know me in real life. But, for those who don’t know me, or haven’t read my previous posts (and why wouldn’t you? My journey started back in September of last year. You should start there as well, or a lot of this isn’t going to make sense. Why would you start a book in the middle anyway?), let me tell you something important about me.

I’m an introvert of the highest order. My current rank is Grand Admiral. I really don’t like people, especially when I’m forced to meet and interact with total strangers in anything more than the cursory “Hi, how are you, how can I help you?” part of my daily job. My work doesn’t require me to actually get to know strangers and befriend them. Nor do I really want to. At least, I didn’t used to want to. (Again, read my previous posts on being born again and God’s changing of my old attitudes.) And yes, I have been more cordial and polite with the people that have crossed my path every day in the last few months, and there are a small number of them that I have chatted with enough to get to know them somewhat. Turns out not everyone is as annoying or uninteresting as I used to think.

But (and this is a big ‘BUT’), there’s a HUGE difference between helping a customer at work and strolling into a totally strange place with a strange crowd on Sunday morning and having no idea whom I will meet or what I’ll find there. Forget butterflies. I get a damn fleet of moths, lizards, birds – basically a whole frakkin’ jungle of nerves in my stomach – just thinking of doing something so extroverted as that! And that’s not much of an exaggeration. I’m like Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. I have my customary spot on the couch that no one else is allowed to sit on, and I don’t like large, unknowable social situations or interactions.

But, unlike my old life, I had no choice here. God was giving me my first real test. Hey, son, I know you don’t like this, but this is necessary, and I’ll be with you the whole time. You know that.

“Yeah, God, I know. But do I really have to? I can just keep watching Grace Baptist’s live stream every Sunday, and I don’t have to leave the comfort of my house. I don’t even have to get out of my pajamas! I’ll just wait until one of those larger churches opens up, and then I’ll go. I promise!”

Umm…no. You need to do this. Now, go.

“Ugh! Fine.”

So I did. And, truth be told, I was looking forward to it, but I was so, SO nervous and anxious that second Sunday in February. (Which was, by coincidence, Valentine’s Day.) And, of course, it turned out to be better than I had been expecting. The pastor was quite warm and welcoming, and he gave me a short tour of the cozy, one story building. (He wasn’t kidding in his email. This church was indeed small – both in physical size and in congregation.) The service went great, the preaching was rather good, and I left for work afterwards feeling very excited, hopeful, and spiritually nourished.

See? God said. I told you you would be fine. And this will get even better as you keep putting yourself out there until I let you know if this is the right family for you.

I replied with a short prayer of thanks and then ordered my usual iced coffee from the Dunkin app on my phone while waiting at the red light.

He was right, as usual. In the last three weeks, as I’ve spent more time with the pastor, and as I’ve gotten to know his small flock, I have felt even more keenly the working of the Holy Spirit within me. God wasn’t kidding when he commanded his believers in the New Testament to gather themselves together in order to spiritually nourish and sustain one another. It’s also been nice to get out of my introverted shell and meet new people. It’s not enough yet to change my ranking in that highest order of introverts – I’m still calling myself Grand Admiral of the Lonely yet Happy Brigade – but it’s a start. I will be probably be demoted to captain in the near future.

Which brings me back around to Psalm 68. Yes, I’ve been keenly aware of my loneliness for the past several weeks. Or rather, God has made me feel keenly aware of my loneliness. I have had a strong desire to be placed within a new family, and, until just a few days ago, I had hoped that this pastor and his very young church would be the family that I was seeking.

It turns out that God may have a different, better family in mind for me.

- 2 -

There’s a couple reasons I haven’t told you the name of the pastor or his church. Those of you that follow me on Facebook will know, and I was probably premature in my post a couple weeks ago about the one night I joined this pastor and some of his congregation for an hour of street preaching. But since this blog is probably going to reach a wider audience than just my family and friends on Facebook, I’m now reluctant to give specific names here because of what I’m about to say next.

The other reason that I’m not naming names is because I will probably not be staying with this church (hereto after referred to as Church #1). The main reason for that is because, as I have listened to the pastor’s preaching (hereto after referred to as Pastor #1) for the last three Sundays, I’ve heard some points and/or comments that have caused a few warning blips on my spiritual radar. Pastor #1 asked us during his sermon a couple weeks ago where in Genesis did we think that Lucifer’s fall occurred. The general consensus from the congregation was in the first chapter. The pastor confirmed this by saying that it happened between Genesis 1:1 and 1:2.

“Does God make anything that is not perfect?”

Well, no, of course not.

“So then why does verse 1 state that God created the heaven and the earth, and then verse 2 says the earth was without form and void?”

Wait. Say what again?

Yeah. Apparently, Pastor and Church #1 believe that God had created a perfect earth and heaven, and then Lucifer’s fall destroyed that first paradise and God had to start all over again.

Ummmmm. Yeah, that’s not how I read verses 1 and 2, nor was that what I was taught at Grace Baptist Church when I was a kid. Although God does not say specifically anywhere in the Bible, it is believed by most theologians and pastors that Lucifer’s fall occurred between chapters 2 and 3 of Genesis. The proper way to read Genesis 1:1 and 2 is that verse 1 is a statement of the end result, and verse 2 begins the story of how God created that end result stated in verse 1.

That’s the biggest warning blip thus far. Some examples of minor blips:

1) Pastor #1 used the verse of 1 Kings 18:28, which talks about the prophets of Baal, “And they cried aloud, and cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them”, as proof that God does not approve of Christians getting tattoos. Doesn’t matter what kind of tattoo, they’re all a sin. (You’ve all seen the pic on my Facebook page of the tattoo of the cross and date that I had done last month as a way to commemorate my salvation.)

2) Pastor #1 is not a fan of C.S. Lewis or The Chronicles of Narnia. In his opinion, the fact that Lewis used the half-goat, half-man creature as one of the main Narnian characters proves that Lewis was not a true Christian. The faun – who was named Pan in Greek mythology – is actually one of the many symbols of Satan. (And, apparently, the English word ‘panic’ comes from the Greek root word of the name of that mythological character.) Also, for that matter, is the symbol of the fish that many people put on the bumpers and rear windows of their car. That symbol is actually connected to the pagan god Dagon. (No, I promise I’m not making any of this up.)

3) Pastor #1 believes that Hell is actually at the center of the earth. This was from a sermon three weeks ago, and it was mentioned in passing with no specific scriptural passage to back up such a claim. I’m fairly certain, however, that there is no Biblical proof for such a bold statement.

4) This pastor is also a vehement opponent of ‘Christian rock’. Now, this isn’t a big deal to me, as there are many Baptist denominations that believe Christian music should be separate from anything that sounds like secular rock music, so I wasn’t surprised when this comment came up in a sermon two weeks ago. (Also, Grace Baptist is a church that has always held this view. I had many, many arguments with my parents about my love for Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith and Steven Curtis Chapman when I was in high school.) I only bring this point up here to show how dogmatic Pastor #1 is turning out to be.

I should also note here that Pastor and Church #1 believe that the ONLY acceptable translation of the Bible is the 1611 King James version. All other translations (NKJV, NIV, NLT, etc.) are false and pervert the true Word of God. This belief is something new to me, and I asked Pastor #1 about this stance in my second email to him after he responded to my introductory email to let me know that his church was hold in-person services. He listed and quoted a few verses from both the Old and New Testaments, including Revelation 22:18-19 where God says no one shall add or take away from the scriptures, lest their names be removed from the Book of Life. (Which is what all other translations, especially newer ones supposedly do when they substitute specific words or phrases in order to match modern English in order to make the Bible more readable and accessible for today’s generation.)

I’m not sure that I totally agree with this belief. I was raised on the King James version, and, therefore, those words are what have stuck in my memory all these years from the verses that I had to memorize in Sunday School and the various other youth programs that I was involved in throughout my childhood. And, now, as I have begun to re-read the Bible, I really love the poetic beauty and the formality of the old English.

However, I am also reading the MacArthur Study Bible which is published in the New King James version, and it is a little easier to read, especially the Old Testament, where specific phrases and idioms have been updated to be a little more closer to modern English. In his introduction of that Bible, John MacArthur states that when the NKJV Bible was first being produced in the late seventies (it was first published in 1982 by Thomas Nelson), all translators had to sign a statement of integrity, faith and belief, saying essentially that they would remain faithful to the true Word of God, and that they would not change or omit any part of the scriptures that would in any way, no matter how small, alter the spirit and message of that Holy Word.

In my reading of the NKJV, I have not seen any huge difference between it and the KJV, other than that the former is a bit more readable, mainly because it doesn’t have a lot of the ‘thee’, ‘thou’, ‘begat’, and so on, that the KJV has. It’s only minor details like that that have been changed. Also, the translators of the NKJV used the same original, preserved Hebrew and Greek manuscripts that were used by the translators under the reign of King James in the first decade of the 1600s.

So, to claim that ALL other translations except the original KJV are absolutely false and perverted is a bit of a stretch for me. It’s a little too dogmatic, but if that’s the only issue here, then I have no problem being part of a church family that holds this view. Unfortunately, due to the some of the other concerns I listed above, I feel that God is leading me away from Church #1. It appears that family is not where he wants to set me.

- 3 -

This past Sunday, as I drove home from Church #1, I felt very discouraged and, frankly, emotional. Why in the world would God lead me to this church only to tell me a month later that this wasn’t where He wanted me? I felt disappointed and despondent, and I called Dad as soon as I got home, unloading all of this on him in what he must have thought was some kind of breakdown. (And, in fact, I was near tears. That’s another thing about this whole sanctification process. My emotions lately have been living very close to the surface, and I never know what will set them off. Some days, all it takes is a cat food commercial or a particularly poetic verse in Psalms. Go figure.)

My dad, to his immense credit, was able to talk me down from the ledge, and I felt much better after hanging up the phone. I took a nap, and then, as I was fixing a late lunch, I remembered something that Pastor #1 had mentioned to me when we were on the street corner a couple weeks ago. I was asking him about his church, specifically how he knew God was calling him to form his own church. He replied that he and his congregation separated from a church (hereto after referred to as Church #2) about six years ago after that church’s elderly pastor had passed away. Though Pastor #1 didn’t give a lot of details – and our conversation was constantly being interrupted as we handed out tracks to passers-by – it sounded to me like the separation was caused by the congregation’s vote to have someone else besides Pastor #1 lead them.

After lunch, I Googled the name of Church #2. Their website looked promising (yes, they too believe that the KJV is the only acceptable translation of the Bible, as well as all the other typical Baptist beliefs – i.e., Pro-life, the traditional Biblical views of marriage & sexuality, etc.), so I immediately emailed the pastor (hereto after referred to as Pastor #2) to ask if he was holding in-person services. He responded almost right away that his doors were indeed open, and the evening service was at 6. I told him I would be there.

Once again, that whole jungle of critters and nerves was back in full force as I pulled into the parking lot of Church #2 (which was also in the same general of area of North Las Vegas as Church #1.) This church building was much larger than that of Church #1, and the congregation was very warm and welcoming. Within just a few minutes of chatting with Pastor #2, I learned that he was originally from Nampa, Idaho, and an alumni of Boise State University. Wow! Talk about a small world. When I told him that I, too, was a former BSU Bronco, he immediately called his wife over to introduce her and pass on the good news.

My visit only got better from there. By the end of the night – which concluded with an ice cream social in the fellowship hall behind the auditorium – I had met, shook hands, and chatted at great length with no less than a dozen fellow believers, all around my age. From what I could estimate during the worship service, the size of the congregation appeared to be about a hundred and fifty, and there was a good mix of old, young and in between. (There was also a good number of elementary and high school age kids.) In many ways, this church reminded me of Grace Baptist back home, and I drove away feeling much more excited and spiritually refreshed. I said a quick prayer of thanks to God, and I really can’t wait for this upcoming Sunday morning service!

- 4 -

All of this church scouting has only intensified my homesickness for Grace Baptist Church back in Twin Falls. Ever since Aaron’s passing a few months ago, my mind has been wallowing in memories of my childhood within the halls of that church and its school there. What I had once upon a time despised in my adolescence and couldn’t wait to get away from I now yearn for with all my heart and soul.

As a kid, there were two places I spent the majority of my time: home and church/school. If I wasn’t at one, I was at the other. My parents were married in Grace Baptist on June 18, 1977, and I arrived on the scene a year later. My earliest memory of Grace Baptist was the hideous shade of orange that was the carpet in the auditorium. It was a burnt orange that was most assuredly made only in the 1970s, and there were no pews at that time either. Instead, we all sat in plastic, yellow chairs that, to my amazement, are STILL being used in the gym for special events. (I sat in one at Aaron’s funeral, and boy, those things are NOT very comfortable after a half hour or so.)

I have many fond recollections of me and my brothers tearing up and down the main hall of the church building, racing one another while waiting for our parents after evening church on Sundays. More often than not, we were scolded by one of the older ladies (I will not name names here, either, mainly just for privacy’s sake, not because I resent them now) who would order us to go find our parents. At one end of that hall is the nursery, and back then the door was separated in two so that the lower half could be closed while the upper half could remain open. In junior high, my friends and I would try to run and jump that door when just the lower half was closed. Again, one of the adults would scold us as they walked by.

More often than not, my brothers, friends and I would be out on the school playground during Sunday afternoons when dad had choir practice before evening church. On one particular Sunday, my brother Jeremy and I were playing tag with a couple other boys, and Jeremy ran headlong into a steel bar at one end of the playground. He had been glancing behind him to see how close his opponent was, and he turned his head back around just in time to slam it into the bar which was at just the right height for his forehead. To this day, I can close my eyes and hear, as clearly as if it had happened only a few minutes ago, that sound of flesh, bone and steel. I was on the other side of the playground, and that THRANG! resonated like the peal from a steeple bell. It’s also the only time in my life that I have seen that much blood at once. Needless to say, mom and Jeremy spent that evening in the ER instead of church service.

(Come to think of it, that was not Jeremy’s last bloody incident. He was around eight or nine, I believe, and during the remainder of his youth he would go on to experience the following: tearing up his face when he crashed headlong into the gravel of the alley behind our house while trying to jump a poorly constructed ramp on his dirt bike; shooting himself in the leg with a gun that one of his friends borrowed from the dad’s unlocked cabinet; breaking that same leg a year or so later during a soccer game – due, in part, to the way the gunshot wound had healed around the bone; and, finally, having his right foot shattered when the third baseman jumped to catch the ball and then landed on Jeremy’s foot with just right angle and weight as Jeremy slid into base. That incident occurred just last year, in fact. My brother has never been one to shy away from living life to the fullest, amen!)

There were numerous weddings, funerals, high school graduations, afternoon potlucks, and other such events held within the halls of that church over the course of my childhood. When my second grade teacher, Miss Sherri Bohne (pronounced ‘Bonny’), was married, I asked her for a picture of her in her wedding dress. I thought it was the most beautiful gown ever, and I’m sure I still have that photo somewhere in an album in one of my closets. (Once again, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone when I emerged from the proverbial closet roughly twelve years later.) There were grade school plays, piano recitals, and high school choir performances that make up the bulk of both my fondest and cringiest memories. (I absolutely HATED the glasses that I had to wear for all of junior high and most of high school. I was never so happy as when my parents’ medical insurance finally allowed me to get contacts halfway through my sophomore year.)

My dad believed that our family should be in church anytime the doors were open. Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday night youth group, Cubbies, Sparks, Awana, Vacation Bible School in the summers, week long special revival meetings throughout the year – you name it, we were there, front and center for every service and/or event. The only exceptions were if we happened to be out of town on our annual summer vacations. When I was a kid, I didn’t resent all this church attendance that much. Everything that was church – all the services, songs, rituals, preaching, teaching, Bible verse memorization, family devotionals every night before bedtime – it was normal life for me and my brothers. It was in my teen years that I really started to resent and dread all the weekly services and activities. And, especially, when I started to realize I was gay and I had to keep that a secret it was even harder to find a good reason for all this religious nonsense. I was never happier than when I left high school (no, never graduated, see previous posts), and I could finally be free of all that hogwash.

Now, twenty-four years later, I feel much differently. I believe that, if we are truly lucky, the places where we grow up become part of us. Their essence weaves itself into the DNA of our very souls through the lifetime of memories and experiences that we carry with us, no matter where or how far we walk in the world. In 1998, when I was in the army and stationed in Hanau, Germany, there was a knock on the door of my barracks room one weekday evening. When I answered it, I found two gentlemen who were from a local non-denominational church. Their congregation was primarily U.S. service members from the base, and they invited me to their upcoming Sunday service. I agreed, though at the time, I couldn’t say exactly why. Looking back now, I know why. I was halfway around the world, very far from home and from almost anything familiar, and I was lonely. I had only just arrived at my posting, so I hadn’t yet become acquainted with my fellow soldiers.

I attended that little church for only a few weeks. It was a taste of home that I had been desperately craving, and I sang along with the traditional hymns, allowing my childhood memories of Grace Baptist to comfort me. But, once I got settled into my new life on base, I no longer needed the weekly church service. I was fine without God once more, and I quit attending. I had better things to do on the weekends. A year later, after my courts-martial, when I arrived back home in Twin Falls, I continued my life without God or religion. Eventually, I found a place of my own, and I lived my life as I wanted. I finally came out to my friends and family, and charted my own course. I would occasionally attend Grace Baptist as a courtesy to my parents, but I hated every time that I had to cross that threshold. It dredged up nothing but bitter memories from high school, and I had to force a smile and a handshake whenever one of the older folks was happy to see me.

You all know the rest of the story. While 2020 was the year that the world fell apart and went off the rails, it was the year that God woke me up and saved me. Back in January, when I started to watch the weekly service from GBC via the live stream on their Facebook page, I felt like I had come back home. The orange carpet and yellow chairs have been replaced by a lovely gray-blue flooring and more comfortable pews, but the spiritual essence is the same. For the last couple weeks, as I’ve attended church services here in Las Vegas, my homesickness has only intensified. I have been fortunate to reconnect with many of you from GBC through these blog posts, and I feel so blessed because of that. That’s what I miss most about Grace Baptist. My brothers and I weren’t reared by just our parents. We were brought up by a godly village of people who believed in Proverbs 22:6: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old he will not depart from it.” Boy, ain’t that the truth??? (This also, unfortunately, meant that it was a rare victory for me, my brothers, and my friends whenever we actually got away with some form of mischief or trouble.) Many of those ‘godparents’ have long since moved away from Twin Falls to serve the Lord in other ministries in other states, but their impact on my life is being felt anew. Others are still there, now teaching their grandchildren the same way they taught and nurtured me.

I miss that church family terribly, and I yearn more than ever to find a family of that caliber here in Las Vegas. I sincerely hope that church #2 is it. But, if not, I know that God will eventually lead me where he wants to place me. It’s not His desire that anyone should be solitary for very long.

Until then, I’m content to be Grand Admiral of the Lonely yet Happy in Christ Brigade.

Okay, maybe just captain.

#Christian #personal growth #God #church #family

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johnchiarello · 7 years ago

Text

My 1st book

'HOUSE OF PRAYER, OR DEN OF THIEVES'

a critical look at the modern prosperity gospel.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 ‘YOU CANNOT SERVE GOD AND MAMMON’

CHAPTER 2 ‘TWISTING THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER’

CHAPTER 3 ‘WHAT IS THE ABRAHAMIC BLESSING ?’

CHAPTER 4 ‘WHAT DID JAMES SAY ?’

CHAPTER 5 ‘WHOSE MINISTRY, JESUS OR OURS ?’

CHAPTER 6 ‘1 TIMOTHY 6’

CHAPTER 7 ‘WERE JESUS AND THE DISCIPLES RICH ?’

CHAPTER 8 ‘COVENANT THEOLOGY’

CHAPTER 9 ‘SOWING INTO GOOD SOIL’

CHAPTER 10 ‘IS THERE HOPE FOR FALSE PROPHETS ?’

INTRODUCTION

It all started a few years back when I was regularly listening to certain ministries who taught the prosperity gospel. Over the years I subscribed to a few of these ministry magazines and truly enjoyed their teaching, but every now and then while reading through the bible I would come across certain passages of scripture that seemed to contradict the themes of the prosperity movement. I also found it strange the way they interpreted certain passages of scripture, it was almost as if when they were done explaining them, that these passages meant the exact opposite of what they were plainly teaching.

During this season of learning, while the Lord was dealing with me about these various doctrines, I would find myself at times saying 'something needs to be done about the extreme teaching coming from this camp'. I would also deal with some of the unbalanced teaching through the small avenues of influence I had through a local radio program and various speaking opportunities. I would even go through stages where I was so upset over some of the more extreme elements of this teaching, that I would avoid dealing with it at all because of the emotional baggage that comes with having to disagree with a brother in Christ.

Then why write this book? Each time I would determine to drop the whole matter and never deal with this issue again, something would happen, or be said on Christian television or radio, or be written in a new book, that was so off base that I would ask the Lord again if He wanted me to do more in bringing about a more balanced view of biblical prosperity. The most recent incident was while watching Christian TV one night, the preacher who was speaking is a well-known prosperity preacher. Before he preached he invited another prosperity preacher to share a 'special' revelatory word the Lord had given him, as the preacher came to the pulpit he began to lead the people in a series of confessions/actions that he told the audience to imitate in order for them to experience breakthrough in their finances. As he stood on the stage he then went through the motions of pulling down an imaginary lever on a slot machine while confessing in a very loud voice the words 'MONEY COMING'. He did this three times while the audience followed. When they got to the last shout, the preacher emphasized the importance of this last shout, and as he led them in the pulling down of the lever they all shouted at the top of their lungs 'MONEY COMING TO ME'

Well to say the least this was another one of those 'incidents' that caused me to ask the Lord if I should do more about such obvious abuse in the church. A few days later, while driving to work one morning, I remembered this incident and asked the Lord if he wanted me to write a book on this subject. Later on in the day during a lunch break, while reading through the bible during a regular devotional time, I just happened to be reading through the book of revelation, and when I came to revelation 1:19 where Jesus tells John to 'write the things which thou hast seen', it hit me like a ton of bricks. So here I am today, believing that this book will serve a definite purpose in the Body of Christ and cause us to return to a more balanced view of the 'things of this world'.

CHAPTER 1 'YOU CANNOT SERVE GOD AND MAMMON'

It has been said that the best way to spot a counterfeit is to know the real. So let’s begin with a biblical look at true prosperity. In the past, while trying to deal with this subject, I would often find people responding in defense of the prosperity gospel by saying things like 'oh, but you don't know how good the Lord is' or 'you don't know how much God wants to meet our needs' or, 'the bible doesn’t say money is evil, but the love of money'. To which I would reply 'AMEN', I agree with you. But the bible also gives us many warnings against materialism, seeking to be rich, and living for material things.

So while trying to deal with the false prosperity gospel, I would like first of all to establish the truth that God is good, he does want to meet our needs and give us the desires of our heart, and yes, he even wants to bless us financially and materially. God promises not only 'heavenly' or 'spiritual' blessings, but also earthly or material blessings as well. If you go through the bible from Genesis to Revelation you will find instances of Gods people being rich, prosperous and blessed in every way. You will find many promises of Gods provisions for us, not only spiritual but also financial and material. There is no doubt that God can, and does bless His children in all areas of life if they are obedient to Him.

We also know that there are many warnings in the N.T. against seeking to be rich, living for material wealth, and the like. So how do we harmonize these two truths?

Let’s look at the overall purpose of God for his church. We are commissioned by Jesus to tell the whole world about His love for us, so we can make disciples of all nations. The message from our lips, [and hearts] is to overflow with who Jesus is and what He’s done for us. As a matter of fact, Jesus tells us that as we proclaim and talk about Him, and seek first His kingdom, that He will take care of all the other less important things. MATHEW 6:19-24 ' LAY NOT UP FOR YOURSELVES TREASURES UPON EARTH, WHERE MOTH AND RUST DOTH CORRUPT, AND WHERE THIEVES BREAK THROUGH AND STEAL: BUT LAY UP FOR YOURSELVES TREASURES IN HEAVEN, WHERE NIETHER MOTH NOR RUST DOTH CORRUPT, AND WHERE THIEVES DO NOT BREAK THROUGH AND STEAL: FOR WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS THERE WILL YOUR HEART BE ALSO........ NO MAN CAN SERVE TWO MASTERS: FOR EITHER HE WILL HATE THE ONE, AND LOVE THE OTHER; OR ELSE HE WILL HOLD TO THE ONE AND DESPISE THE OTHER. YOU CANNOT SERVE GOD AND MAMMON. THEREFORE I SAY UNTO YOU, TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE, WHAT YE SHALL EAT, OR WHAT YE SHALL DRINK; NOR YET FOR YOUR BODY, WHAT YE SHALL PUT ON. IS NOT THE LIFE MORE THAN MEAT, AND THE BODY MORE THAN RAIMENT? BEHOLD THE FOWLS OF THE AIR: FOR THEY SOW NOT, NIETHER DO THEY REAP, NOR GATHER INTO BARNS; YET YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER FEEDETH THEM. ARE YE NOT MUCH BETTER THAN THEY? ...... THEREFORE TAKE NO THOUGHT, SAYING WHAT SHALL WE EAT? OR, WHAT SHALL WE DRINK? OR, WHEREWITHALL SHALL WE BE CLOTHED? [FOR AFTER ALL THESE THINGS DO THE GENTILES SEEK;] FOR YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER KHNOWETH THAT YE HAVE NEED OF ALL THESE THINGS. BUT SEEK YE FIRST THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND HIS RIGHTEOUSNESS; AND ALL THES THINGS SHALL BE ADDED UNTO YOU. TAKE THEREFORE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW: FOR THE MORROW SHALL TAKE THOUGHT FOR THE THINGS OF ITSELF. SUFFICIENT UNTO THE DAY IS THE EVIL THEREOF' Jesus is making a distinction between material things and the kingdom of God. He is saying if we seek first His kingdom, then all these material needs will be met. If the kingdom is about material things, then Jesus contradicted himself. The plain meaning and thought of this passage is that if we put God first, He will take care of us. Now say if the disciples took this to mean that the primary message of the gospel was 'God will add all these things unto you'. And say if they went around teaching all nations to quote 'all these things shall be added unto you'. And then all over Jerusalem and Judaea and unto the uttermost parts of the earth they had people quoting 'all these things shall be added unto you'. And after a lifetime of ministry they taught the people how God would give them things if they kept quoting and meditating on the passages of scripture that speak about material wealth. What do you suppose Jesus would say when He comes back? First of all the plain teaching of Jesus in this passage is to get their focus [meditation, confession] off of material things. He plainly says that the 'gentiles seek these things', and that the disciples are not to be thinking about these things all the time like the gentiles. He tells us to focus on the kingdom as opposed to focusing on material things. He tells us that as we go forth by faith to proclaim his gospel, that he in turn will meet our needs. After all, the disciples left their jobs in order to follow Christ, and he was reassuring them that they would be taken care of materially if they forsook all to follow him.

I find it troubling that some teachers use this very passage in order to justify materialism, while the plain meaning of Jesus words are the opposite. Jesus says you cannot serve God and money. So we must take our minds and thoughts and meditations and focus them on God, not worldly things!

So true prosperity can be defined as God meeting all the needs of his children as they proclaim him in all nations. True prosperity is God meeting our needs while our focus is on him [not on our needs being met!]. True prosperity is being able to preach the word of God without a covetous motive [1 PETER:5:2].

I should make note that there are some who teach that this passage of scripture [MATT. 6:19-24] actually teaches that we have a bank account in heaven with real money credited to our account! And every time we sow [give into] the kingdom of God, that we are actually building a fund in this account. And that by faith you can claim a withdrawal on your account and receive your financial harvest now. But if this is what Jesus was teaching then the entire passage is twisted into turning our attention towards money once again! Jesus plainly warned us against focusing our thoughts on the material things in life, he told us not to be like the unbelievers who have all their possessions in this life only. Jesus told us to build up treasures in heaven, which meant a life lived for eternal purposes as opposed to temporary rewards. I believe that if we get our priorities right, that God will meet our needs, and we will be so excited about God and his kingdom that we wont even have time to think about serving mammon!

CHAPTER 2 'TWISTING THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER'

While a new Christian, enjoying that early honeymoon period with the Lord, I’ll never forget the joy I experienced while learning the bible for the first time. The clarity, pureness and unity of scripture were a sure foundation for a long road ahead. While working as a house painter and listening to Christian radio all day long, it was an early introduction to the various 'streams' of teaching that were being produced in the church. One day my job foreman, who often heard me listening to Christian radio, thought I would enjoy listening to a new tape series that he had just been given. So I popped the cassettes into my radio and listened with the excitement of a new believer in Christ. The cassettes were a new teaching on the parable of the sower. MATTHEW 13:1-9, 18-23 ' THE SAME DAY WENT JESUS OUT OF THE HOUSE, AND SAT BY THE SEASIDE. AND GREAT MULTITUDES WERE GATHERED TOGETHER UNTO HIM, SO THAT HE WENT INTO A SHIP, AND SAT; AND THE WHOLE MULTITUDE STOOD ON THE SHORE. AND HE SPAKE MANY THINGS UNTO THEM IN PARABLES, SAYING, BEHOLD, A SOWER WENT FORTH TO SOW; AND WHEN HE SOWED, SOME SEEDS FELL BY THE WAY SIDE, AND THE FOWLS CAME AND DEVOURED THEM UP: SOME FELL UPON STONY PLACES, WHERE THEY HAD NOT MUCH EARTH: AND FORTHWITH THEY SPRUNG UP, BECAUSE THEY HAD NO DEEPNESS OF EARTH: AND WHEN THE SUN WAS UP THEY WERE SCORCHED; AND BECAUSE THEY HAD NO ROOT THEY WITHERED AWAY. AND SOME FELL AMONG THORNS; AND THE THORNS SPRUNG UP, AND CHOKED THEM; BUT OTHER FELL INTO GOOD GROUND, AND BROUGHT FORTH FRUIT, SOME AN HUNDREDFOLD, SOME SIXTYFOLD, SOME THIRTYFOLD. WHO HATH EARS TO HEAR LET HIM HEAR.........HEAR YE THEREFORE THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER. WHEN ANYONE HEARETH THE WORD OF THE KINGDOM, AND UNDERSTANDETH IT NOT, THEN COMETH THE WICKED ONE, AND CATCHETH AWAY THAT WHICH WAS SOWN IN HIS HEART. THIS IS HE WHICH RECIEVED SEED BY THE WAYSIDE. BUT HE THAT RECIEVED THE SEED INTO STONY PLACES, THE SAME IS HE THAT HEARETH THE WORD, AND ANON WITH JOY RECIEVETH IT; YET HATH HE NOT ROOT IN HIMSELF, BUT DURETH FOR A WHILE: FOR WHEN TRIBULATION OR PERSECUTION ARISETH BECAUSE OF THE WORD, BY AND BY HE IS OFFENDED. HE ALSO THAT RECIEVED SEED AMONG THE THORNS IS HE THAT HEARETH THE WORD; AND THE CARE OF THIS WORLD, AND THE DECEITFULLNESS OF RICHES, CHOKE THE WORD AND HE BECOMETH UNFRUITFULL. BUT HE THAT RECIEVED SEED INTO GOOD GROUND IS HE THAT HEARETH THE WORD, AND UNDERSTANDETH IT; WHICH ALSO BEARETH FRUIT, AND BRINGETH FORTH, SOME AN HUNDREDFOLD SOME SIXTY SND SOME THIRTY'. As the teacher taught through the parable he explained how Jesus was teaching us how to plant [sow] the word [scriptures] in our hearts [through confession, meditation, etc.] in order to receive a thirty, sixty, or hundredfold return. He then applied the entire teaching to reaping an hundredfold return of MONEY! He taught how that at each stage of the parable the devil tries to steal the word so we don’t receive our harvest. He then got to the part where Jesus says 'THE DECIETFULLNESS OF RICHES CHOKE THE WORD', I couldn’t understand how Jesus could be teaching us about reaping a financial harvest, and then say this! It almost seemed like a contradiction. Well the teacher then began to sound uncomfortable as he explained how the deceitfulness of riches was actually that old traditional teaching that says you cant be rich [or something to that effect]! Even as a new believer in Christ I just couldn’t accept this explanation, it was almost as if the teacher was trying to make Jesus words say the opposite of what he meant.

The basic plain meaning of the parable is self-explanatory. There are always obstacles and enemies of the gospel. Ultimately those who overcome these obstacles will bear good Christian fruit in varying degrees [30,60 or 100 fold]. The various hindrances to the word of God include the 'cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches'. If you want to produce fruit for God you cant get caught up in the materialistic pursuits of the world [2 TIMOTHY 2:4].

Many times in connection with this parable is the doctrine of sowing for a harvest taught. Jesus often uses planting [sowing] and harvesting [reaping] illustrations in his teachings. The main focus is usually dealing with the spreading of the kingdom of God and the message of Christ to the nations. Sometimes the seed refers to believers themselves, and other times the actual message preached [MATT. 13: 20,38]. Sowing and reaping also refer to the works we do, as well as the money we give into the kingdom [1COR. 9:11, GAL. 6:8]. While there are many ways you can apply sowing for a harvest, I find it disturbing that some in the church have focused the entire teaching towards financial and material gain. This type of preoccupation with money is in direct opposition to the warning that Jesus gave in this parable, he told us that the deceitfulness of riches could derail us from being fruitful, and the distorted teaching that applies this entire parable to money is in itself a fulfillment of the warning that 'the deceitfulness of riches' can deceive you, because it denies the very warning of Christ and makes him say something that he never said!

CHAPTER 3 'WHAT IS THE ABRAHAMIC BLESSING'

I must admit that out of all the various portions of scripture used to teach a false prosperity gospel, this is one of the most deceptive. In order for us to fully grasp the concept of the abrahamic blessing, we must do a little history.

In GALATIANS 3, the apostle Paul makes one of the greatest N.T. arguments for justification by faith versus law. I personally believe this doctrine to be one of the foundational doctrines in the N.T.

The heresy that Paul is fighting against in Galatians is the heresy of legalism that was taught by the judiazers. The judiazers were the Jewish/Christian sect that taught that gentile believers needed to be circumcised and brought under the law in order to be saved. The main argument that Paul uses to refute this doctrine is in Galatians 3. In this chapter we find Paul going back to the O.T. books in order to show that God established, by covenant, the basis of justifying man by faith without the deeds of the law. The main argument Paul uses is 'the abrahamic blessing'. Paul traces Gods promise to Abraham, made before the law was given, where God says 'in thee shall all nations be blessed' [GEN. 12:3, GAL. 3:8]. This meaning that God would bless [save] all nations through the promised child of Abraham [which would eventually be Jesus]. Paul’s point is to show that God already promised to bless all people through Abraham’s offspring [the abrahamic blessing], and not through the law. The abrahamic blessing referring to justifying the world by faith and giving us 'the promise of the Spirit by faith' [GALATIANS 3:8-14], this argument is also used in Romans 4.

Now here comes the tricky part, some teach that God covenants to make us rich trough the abrahamic blessing [or covenant]. They use this chapter to teach that Christ died so we can receive the abrahamic blessing. They then define the abrahamic blessing as the 'things' that Abraham had. But once again the abrahamic blessing as defined in Galatians 3 is referring to God justifying us by faith as opposed to the law. Paul was in no way teaching the Galatians that God was going to make them rich! He was battling for their very souls! The plain text of this passage shows us that Paul was dealing with the issue of justification, and not finances. And it would make absolutely no sense for Paul to begin to address money issues in the middle of this chapter.

Each time I came across this type of distorted interpretation, I honestly couldn’t understand how so many different teachers could so consistently apply the same passage in the wrong way. It almost reminds me of the O.T. passage that speaks of a conspiracy of the prophets [EZEK. 22:25]. A sort of network of false/distorted interpretations of the scripture that exist among certain groups of believers, and these same false opinions are then propagated again and again until after you hear them long enough they seem to become accepted truth in the church at large. We need to re-examine some of these doctrines and receive correction and make the proper adjustments in our thinking and acting [repentance!], so we don’t continue to spread these false opinions in the church.

CHAPTER 4 'WHAT DID JAMES SAY'

One of the strongest books in the N.T. dealing with poverty and riches is the book of James. Simply reading this book in context would give the modern prosperity gospel a strong rebuke! James contrasts both rich and poor, he says that God has chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom of God. The context also implies that these poor Christians will remain poor in this life! [JAMES 2:5] The prosperity message teaches that if you have faith in God that you will not be poor. It’s obvious that both James and the prosperity teachers of today have a difference of opinion!

Lets look at exactly what the word of God says; JAMES 2:1-6 'MY BRETHREN, HAVE NOT THE FAITH OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, THE LORD OF GLORY, WITH RESPECT OF PERSONS. FOR IF THERE COME UNTO YOUR ASSEMBLY A MAN WITH A GOLD RING, IN GOODLY APPAREL, AND THERE COME IN ALSO A POOR MAN IN VILE RAIMENT; AND YE HAVE RESPECT TO HIM THAT WEARETH THE GAY CLOTHING, AND SAY UNTO HIM, SIT THOU HERE IN A GOOD PLACE; AND SAY TO THE POOR, STAND THOU HERE OR SIT HERE UNDER MY FOOTSTOOL: ARE YE NOT THEN PARTIAL IN YOURSELVES AND BECOME JUDGES OF EVIL THOUGHTS? HEARKEN, MY BELOVED BRETHREN, HATH NOT GOD CHOSEN THE POOR OF THIS WORLD RICH IN FAITH, AND HEIRS OF THE KINGDOM WHICH HE HATH PROMISED TO THEM THAT LOVE HIM? BUT YE HAVE DESPISED THE POOR. DO NOT RICH MEN OPPRESS YOU, AND DRAW YOU BEFORE THE JUDGMENT SEATS? How were they despising the poor and being prejudiced in their thoughts? They were treating poor people with contempt while showing honor to the rich. This is exactly what we do in the church, by teaching that poor Christians have little, or no faith, we unconsciously treat them with contempt. We teach that the poor are under a curse and are therefore not living up to all their benefits in Christ. We actually set up a cast system in the church. James says the poor have great faith! He doesn’t portray them as having small faith. He warns the rich not to trust in uncertain riches. The bible flatly teaches that financial abundance is not a measure of ones faith! We must stop teaching that if you would simply believe God you would have an abundance of money. This is not true in every case. Sometimes the abundant supply from God is the grace and patience that he gives to the believer in the face of severe trials or lack. The N.T. clearly teaches that there are believers with lots of faith who are poor! You can't deny the plain word of God. We should not suppose that a lack of financial abundance is a sign of weak faith!

Now to one of the most recent 'new revelations' that is being taught in the church. I first heard this from a very respected soul-winning evangelist. I then heard it taught from a variety of other teachers. As of this writing it seems to be accepted 'truth' in certain circles. Lets read JAMES 5:1-6 'GO TO NOW, YE RICH MEN, WEEP AND HOWL FOR YOUR MISERIES THAT SHALL COME UPON YOU. YOUR RICHES ARE CORRUPTED, AND YOUR GARMENTS ARE MOTHEATEN. YOUR GOLD AND SILVER IS CANKERED; AND THE RUST OF THEM SHALL BE A WITNESS AGAINST YOU, AND SHALL EAT YOUR FLESH AS IT WERE FIRE. YE HAVE HEAPED TREASURE TOGETHER FOR THE LAST DAYS. BEHOLD, THE HIRE OF THE LABOURERS WHO HAVE REAPED DOWN YOUR FIELDS, WHICH IS OF YOU KEPT BACK BY FRAUD, CRIETH: AND THE CRIES OF THEM WHICH HAVE REAPED ARE ENTERED INTO THE EARS OF THE LORD OF SABAOTH. YE HAVE LIVED IN PLEASURE ON THE EARTH, AND BEEN WANTON; YE HAVE NOURISHED YOUR HEARTS, AS IN A DAY OF SLAUGHTER. YE HAVE CONDEMNED AND KILLED THE JUST; AND HE DOTH NOT RESIST YOU. The first time I heard this 'new' truth, the preacher said that this passage was dealing with the end-time transfer of wealth from the rich to the poor. It was explained that in verse 3 'YE HAVE HEAPED TREASURE TOGETHER FOR THE LAST DAYS’ meant that the rich gathered together their wealth so it could be given to the church in the last days. While I have no problem with the idea of the world’s wealth being used for kingdom purposes, I do have a problem with distorting the word of God to prove our points! A simple reading of James 5:1-6 shows us that the reason the rich are being reproved is because they spent their lives building up financial fortunes without being rich toward God [LUKE 12:16-21]. This scripture also plainly says what is going to happen to their wealth. Is it going to be 'transferred' to us? Is it going to be given to the Christians in the last days? Is it going to be used at all? NO! It is going to canker, rust and corrupt! It is going to be destroyed! It will be of no help at all in the day of judgment [PRVB. 11:4]. It will be a witness against them for living covetous lives. The entire theme of James follows this line of thought. To read all the other things that James says about the rich and poor in this epistle, for us to then interpret this passage and say that James was now teaching the Christians that they would become rich through the end-time transfer of wealth, is ridiculous. Once again the plain meaning of scripture is being distorted in order to make it say the complete opposite of what it means.

One more thing before we leave James. The early Christian community did not equate poverty with being under a curse. They did not equate poverty with sin. There are many rebukes in the N.T. against sin in the church, but the poor in the church were praised, not rebuked! The very mindset of looking upon the poor as a lower class permeates this teaching. If the poor are cursed, not living up to their inheritance, don’t know how to apply faith principles or simply don’t know/believe the word concerning prosperity, then in essence we are despising the poor through our belief system. The N.T. plainly teaches that it is okay to be poor! We need to heed the warning from this N.T. epistle and stop despising the poor!

CHAPTER 5 'WHOSE MINISTRY, JESUS OR OURS?'

I'll never forget the time I was watching 'Christian' TV and saw a preacher holding up his Rolex watch and then teaching the people that this was an example of his faith in action! He then went on to explain that when we use our faith to obtain things, we can then show these things to people as a witness of our faith. If this is what it means to go witnessing for Christ, I think most people would be standing in line to sign up!

Over the years I have heard it taught that the only way the world would be saved is if the church becomes extremely rich financially so she could send the gospel to the world. That the world would see our extreme wealth and would ask 'where did you get all that money?' and we would then say 'from God', and the lost would then want what we have and get saved! Convenient isn’t it. But is this a biblical picture of the N.T. church and her witness in the earth?

In order to answer this question, we need first to look at what the N.T. church is. The church consists of communities of believers scattered throughout the world. All over planet earth, right now, there are believers thriving and testifying of Gods grace in all types of circumstances and situations. The community of believers that Jesus launched 2 thousand years ago is still going strong. She answers to no man or human govt. She has outlasted empires, persecutions, false religions and every other conceivable attack that can be imagined. The prophecy of Jesus has been fulfilled ‘THE GATES OF HELL SHALL NOT PREVAIL AGAINST HER’ [MATT. 16:18].

As of today there has been no other single institution upon earth that has had more influence in the history of the world than the church! Now, if the church truly consists of believers [seeds], planted [sown] all over the world under the lordship of Christ, with various giftings [Apostles, Prophets, etc.] operating under the administration of the Holy Spirit, this ministry [the kingdom of God] already has the potential of a worldwide witness to all nations. As a matter of fact this worldwide gospel of Christ has been prevailing magnificently throughout the generations. This wonderful kingdom, under Christ’s rule, has been active. It has been supernaturally deploying ministers from day one [ACTS 13]. It has even witnessed for Jesus Christ when its main ministers were broke! [ACTS 3:6]. The witness of the gospel has done extremely well throughout the centuries and will continue to do so, whether or not we all become rich!

The reason I say this is because there is a mindset in the church [American mostly] that equates the witness of the gospel with the success of American charismatic entrepreneurial ministries. We have been deluded into believing that unless we all become rich, we will never be able to reach the world. The overall success of the kingdom of God has never been dependent on any budget of any ministry past or present! Most of the modern day proponents of the prosperity gospel usually head up American ministry organizations and equate the sowing of seed [finances], with giving money to help support their organizations. They then sincerely believe that unless their organization makes more and more money, they will never be able to fulfill the great commission of reaching the world.

The N.T. clearly teaches the principles of our witness for Christ, and the focus has never been extreme wealth. But on sacrificial living, loving each other unconditionally, a sharing caring community of people who are known for good deeds of charity. In the book of acts the early church had a powerful witness, and they weren’t rich financially, yet they did reach their world for Christ. How? Through great sacrificial living, through miraculous signs and wonders, through the empowerment of the Holy Spirit and through a bold proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Not one sermon in the book of acts focused on anything else than Jesus Christ and his great work for us. Their hearts and lips flowed with the message of Christ, not money!

I find it troubling that many of the ministries who teach the prosperity gospel usually do receive extreme amounts of money, not to proclaim the message of Jesus [speaking about him], but to simply propagate a money making gospel! You can tune into some of these ministries and find them talking about money all the time. What if a lost person tuned in? Would he hear about Jesus or money? What about when Jesus said out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks? [MATT. 12:34]. If someone is always talking about money where is his heart, what’s his treasure?

We need to shift our focus back to the pure N.T. message of Christ, and understand that his gospel is the power of God unto salvation! Jesus said the world would be saved when the truth is preached in all nations by a united church, not when we all become millionaires so we can finance our own ministries!

CHAPTER 6 '1 TIMOTHY 6'

I have often heard it said 'if you’re happy with just enough money to get by, you’re selfish and living in sin, you need to believe God and have faith for increased wealth so you can finance the gospel'. Is this a biblical concept? Should we teach people that being content with what you have is a sin?

Lets look at the word of God HEBREWS 13:5-6 'LET YOUR CONVERSATION BE WITHOUT COVEOUSNESS; AND BE CONTENT WITH SUCH THINGS AS YE HAVE: FOR HE HATH SAID, I WILL NEVER LEAVE THEE, OR FORSAKE THEE. SO THAT WE MAY BOLDLY SAY, THE LORD IS MY HELPER, AND I WILL NOT FEAR WHAT MAN SHALL DO UNTO ME. This scripture plainly teaches us to be content with what we have! I even heard a prosperity preacher teach that this means to be happy with what you have now, while using your faith to obtain more. WHAT! When will we stop distorting the plain meaning of scripture?

1 TIMOTHY 6:1-12,17-19 'LET AS MANY SERVANTS WHO ARE UNDER THE YOKE COUNT THIER OWN MASTERS WORTHY OF ALL HONOUR, THAT THE NAME OF GOD AND HIS DOCTRINE BE NOT BLASPHEMED....... IF ANY MAN TEACH OTHERWISE, AND CONSENT NOT TO WHOLESOME WORDS, EVEN THE WORDS OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, AND TO THE DOCTRINE WHICH IS ACCORDING TO GODLINESS; HE IS PROUD KNOWING NOTHING, BUT DOTING ABOUT QUESTIONS AND STRIFES OF WORDS, WHEREOF COMETH ENVY, STRIFE, RAILINGS, EVIL SURMISINGS, PERVERSE DISPUTINGS OF MEN OF CORRUPT MINDS, AND DESTITUTE OF THE TRUTH, SUPPOSING THAT GAIN IS GODLINESS: FROM SUCH WITHDRAW THYSELF. BUT GODLINESS WITH CONTENTMENT IS GREAT GAIN. FOR WE BROUGHT NOTHING INTO THE WORLD, AND IT IS CERTAIN WE CAN CARRY NOTHING OUT. AND HAVING FOOD AND RAIMENT LET US BE THEREWITH CONTENT. BUT THEY THAT WILL BE RICH FALL INTO TEMPTATION AND A SNARE, AND INTO MANY FOOLISH AND HURTFUL LUSTS, WHICH DROWN MEN IN DESTRUCTION AND PERDITION. FOR THE LOVE OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL: WHICH WHILE SOME COVETED AFTER, THEY HAVE ERRED FROM THE FAITH, AND PIERCED THEMSELVES THROUGH WITH MANY SORROWS. BUT THOU O MAN OF GOD FLEE THESE THINGS.........CHARGE THEM THAT ARE RICH IN THIS WORLD, THAT THEY BE NOT HIGHMINDED, NOR TRUST IN UNCERTAIN RICHES, BUT IN THE LIVING GOD, WHO GIVETH US RICHLY ALL THINGS TO ENJOY; THAT THEY DO GOOD, THAT THEY BE RICH IN GOOD WORKS, READY TO DISTRIBUTE, WILLING TO COMMUNICATE; LAYING UP IN STORE FOR THEMSELVES A GOOD FOUNDATION AGAINST THE TIME TO COME, THAT THEY MAY LAY HOLD ON ETERNAL LIFE. Paul is clearly teaching the concept of 'you came into this world with nothing, you cant take it with you when you die, so be content with what you have'. I have heard prosperity preachers say that this type of mindset is a religious spirit, and has no foundation in the word of God. This passage of scripture teaches plainly against the mindset of the prosperity gospel. The entire theme and thought of the apostle goes 100 percent against the grain of the prosperity movement. Paul clearly says that some will equate gain with godliness, if he is not dealing with the distortions of the modern prosperity movement, then who is he speaking about? He says that some will equate godly living with financial gain, or they will teach if you’re godly you will gain much money. This is exactly what the modern prosperity movement teaches!

He says that those who want to become rich will fall into many foolish and hurtful lusts. The craving [coveting] to become rich can either be through confessing scripture, through meditating on abundance, through the sowing of seed into good soil or any other means imaginable. The scripture simply says that if the acquiring of money, for whatever purpose [even godly purposes], has become your goal, then your motivation is wrong and you have been sidetracked.

Now the 'love of money' verse. 1 TIMOTHY 6:10 'FOR THE LOVE OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL: WHICH WHILE SOME COVETED AFTER, THEY HAVE ERRED FROM THE FAITH, AND PIERCED THEMSELVES THROUGH WITH MANY SORROWS'. I have heard it said 'brother, this says the love of money, not money' and then the preacher will go right past the warning and talk all about money, not even giving a second thought to the warning! These passages, read in their entirety, give a powerful rebuke against the prosperity movement. They teach us to' be content with what we have,' they tell us' don’t desire to be rich', they plainly state that the pursuit of material wealth will sidetrack you, and they even state that 'you came into the world with nothing, when you die you cant take it with you, so be happy with what you have!' I would exhort any person who is having difficulty breaking away from this movement to read 1 timothy 6 every day for a year and allow your mind to be renewed to the word of God!

One more thing before we leave this chapter, in verse 12 Paul exhorts Timothy to 'lay hold on eternal life'. He says this in the context of comparing eternal life against materialistic living. He is saying in essence 'live for eternal things, not temporary rewards [or money!]'. I just finished watching a minister on T.V. spend 30 minutes explaining how the eternal life that Paul is referring to deals with the abundance of God in the area of finances. He flatly said that Paul was teaching us to lay hold of an abundance of money! This type of extreme distorting of scripture actually takes the warnings in the word of God that speak against materialism and turns them around to teach the exact opposite! When our own interpretations of scripture go against the plain flow of the text of scripture, then we have usurped the word of God in order to teach our own traditions!

CHAPTER 7 'WERE JESUS AND THE DISCIPLES RICH?'

One day while listening to a preacher trying to prove that Jesus and the disciples were extremely wealthy, he used the common ‘proof texts’ to prove his point. He then went on to explain that religious tradition portrayed Jesus and the disciples as being poor [or average], and that the word of God teaches us that they were really rich. He also explained how important it was for us to know this 'truth', because if Jesus and the disciples were rich, and Jesus wants us to be like him, then we are in disobedience if we are not striving to become wealthy!

A simple plain reading of the N.T. portrays Jesus as someone who came with a radical message of forsaking all to follow him. He often approached people who were in business [fishermen], or were rich, and challenged them to leave all and follow him. He would reassure these followers if they forsook all for his cause and the gospel, that they would be taken care of. This same type of radical call continued into the book of acts, where the early followers of Jesus also told the people that to be a follower of Christ they had to forsake all to follow him.

If you look at the overall picture [not the prooftexts!], you see the early Christian community as a people who forsook all for the gospel. You find them living and sharing as a corporate community who took care of each-others needs [ACTS 2:44-47]. You find those who were wealthy [not all of the church, but certain individuals, ACTS 4:32-37] sharing their wealth for the needs of the Christian community. You can even trace the ministries of some of the early apostles and still find them many years later proclaiming Christ through much suffering and persecution. Not only does the N.T. portray the early Christian community in this light, but also church history confirms it. You find the apostles still learning to deal with financial lack many years later well into their ministries [PHIL 4:11-12, 2 COR. 11:27]. You see a beautiful picture of a people willing to suffer for the cause of Christ cheerfully. You also see a gracious Lord who met all their needs according to his abundant grace. You find stories where the material needs of people were supernaturally met [not by extreme wealth, but by Gods miraculous intervention [MATT. 14:17-19, 15:34-36].

Now what about the promise Jesus made to Peter in MARK 10:28-31 'THEN PETER BEGAN TO SAY UNTO HIM, LO, WE HAVE LEFT ALL, AND HAVE FOLLOWED THEE. AND JESUS ANSWERED AND SAID, VERILY I SAY UNTO YOU, THERE IS NO MAN THAT HATH LEFT HOUSE, OR BRETHREN, OR SISTERS, OR FATHER, OR MOTHER, OR WIFE, OR CHILDREN, OR LANDS, FOR MY SAKE AND THE GOSPELS, BUT HE SHALL RECIEVE AN HUNDREDFOLD NOW IN THIS TIME, HOUSES, AND BRETHREN, AND SISTERS, AND MOTHERS, AND CHILDREN, AND LANDS, WITH PERSECUTIONS; AND IN THE WORLD TO COME ETERNAL LIFE. Did Peter personally posses [inherit] more houses, lands, sisters and mothers? How was this promise fulfilled in Peter’s life? In the book of acts Peter became a part of the 'Christian family' who had all things common, they shared everything and had no lack [ACTS 4:32-34, 2:44-47]. They had no lack because of their membership in the family of God. The fulfilling of the law of love in their sharing of material things was the fulfillment of Jesus promise to Peter, not making him financially rich!

Look at all the apostolic ministries in the book of acts. Wherever they went, whatever city they ministered in, their needs were always met. Why? Because when they became part of the Christian community, the homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, lands and all the other resources were SHARED by all the believers. They ministered to each other’s needs, they supported one another, they truly fulfilled the law of love by bearing one another’s burdens!

This picture of Jesus and the apostles as extremely rich 20th century American evangelists who headed up big budget ministries is absolutely no where to be found in the plain reading of the N.T.! I just don’t find Jesus and the disciples as rich evangelists going into the world with extreme wealth, while at the same time telling rich people to sell all they have to come follow him! [MATT. 19:23-24,LK. 1:53, 6:24, 16:19-31, 18:18-25]

CHAPTER 8 'COVENANT THEOLOGY'

The early settlers [pilgrims] of our nation came by faith in God, believing their new nation to be a promised land of freedom that the Lord had given to them. One of the descriptions of the 'belief system' of these puritans is called covenant theology. They saw themselves as 'new covenant' people who were inheriting a promised land, much like the old covenant people [Israel] inherited their promised land. They claimed and believed the many O.T. promises of God concerning the inheriting of nations. They took God at his word, and it worked!

In a sense all believers are covenant theologians, whether they realize it or not. It is through our covenant with God [the blood of Jesus], that we are made right with God [justified], have forgiveness of sins and are made children of God. As a matter of fact, everything that God does for us, or that 'we do for him', is based upon the bedrock foundation of the covenant of the blood of Jesus Christ.

Now, it has been taught because of our covenant with Christ, we can go through the bible and find all the promises that are good and by faith hold God to his word and 'cause the things that are not seen [not manifested] to become seen [manifested]', or to put it simple, to get the things that God has promised us by putting our faith into action. I believe this principle is both scriptural and profitable. But the covenant cuts both ways.

When people enter into covenant, the 2 parties have complete access to each-others rights and privileges. There are times were the Lord will require of the believer all that he has [leave your nets and follow me mentality]. There are even times where the Lord called people to lay down their lives in martyrdom in order to receive a better resurrection [HEB 11:35, ACTS 7]. As a matter of fact there are many examples of people of faith who have endured great sufferings even though they had great faith [HEB. 11].

So what does it mean to be a covenant believer? It not only implies going throughout the bible and claiming all the good promises and quoting them by faith [sowing], it also carries with it the meaning of laying down all that we have [in this world] for the cause of Christ [HEB. 10:34].

While the early puritans did claim and receive the promises of God by faith concerning their 'promised land', they also endured tremendous suffering and loss [many died in their pursuit!] in order to obtain a noble goal. The N.T. commands us not only to believe and teach the good parts [or the parts we like the most!], but also to heed the warnings [LUKE 12:15, ACTS 20:27]. If we reduce covenant theology to a belief system that only reads and quotes the 'good' promises, but never heeds the warnings, then we are failing to proclaim the full gospel and are presenting a distorted view of the Christian life [ACTS 14:22]. A simple overview of the N.T. shows us how the principles of the N.T. are supposed to work. For example, you never find Jesus or the disciples going around quoting the money verses in order to receive a harvest! As a matter of fact, if we teach people to 'quote, meditate, memorize and only think on the money scriptures', we would be doing the exact opposite of what Jesus said in MATT. 6:31-34. He specifically told us to take no thought [meditate, focus our minds, etc.] of what we shall eat, drink or wear [material things], the whole point of this passage was to teach the Christian NOT to focus on these things!

You also never find any of the suffering Christians acting like they 'fell short' of their covenant rights. Instead they counted it a privilege to suffer for his names sake [ACTS 5:41]. The entire flow of the N.T. goes contrary to the 'picture painted' by unbalanced prosperity preaching. The focus of the N.T. was Gods advancing kingdom throughout the nations! Their own lives and the things they could get to make themselves more comfortable ran 100% contrary to the fulfilling of their mission [2 TIM. 4:10, 1 JOHN 2:15]. A simple plain reading of the N.T. in context teaches us that the character of N.T. Christianity is one of self-sacrificial living, not a 'get all you can by faith' mentality.

CHAPTER 9 'SOWING INTO GOOD SOIL'

A simple reading of the N.T. gives us a broad picture of the life of the believer, which includes giving and receiving, Gods promises of funding the work of the ministry, the Christian concept of charity, and a basic overall view of finances and the kingdom of God. One of the most basic reasons of giving money in the N.T. is to share what we have with those who are less fortunate [JAMES 2:15-16, 1 JOHN 3:17]. As a matter of fact Jesus rebuked the religious leaders of his day for their willingness to tithe to the temple while neglecting to use their finances to meet the needs of people in need [MARK 7:6-13]. One of the most recognized passages of scripture used to describe the character of Christ is found in Luke 10:30-37, an example of someone ministering to the needs of ‘the down and out’.

Even in the book of acts the main focus on giving was to meet the needs of people [ACTS 2:44-46, 4:32-37, 6:1]. The very scripture that we use to exhort saints to put in their offerings on ‘Sunday’, is really speaking about a collection being taken to meet the needs of the ‘poor saints’ who lived in Jerusalem [1COR. 16:1-3].

This basic Christian principle of charity is a well-established Christian doctrine that most people would agree with, except for certain teachers in the prosperity movement! I remember listening to a certain teacher actually teach that in order to receive a good financial harvest, you must plant your seed [money] into good soil. He then went on to teach that good soil meant ministries, or individuals, who taught prosperity and were financially rich! He even implied that giving to prosperity ministries would make you rich, while giving to ‘poverty mentality’ ministries would make you poor [because you reap the same anointing from the ministries you so into]. The problem with this is that the bible teaches that giving to poor people [people with a poverty mentality] is good, and that the Lord will reward you for it [PRVB. 22:9,16,19:17,28:27, PSALMS 112:9].

While the N.T. does deal with Gods provisions for ministry [PHIL. 4:14-19,1COR. 9:1-14], this certainly in no way justifies perverting the gospel into a mindset of giving into wealthy ministries in order to receive a financial harvest!

Jesus, Paul and all the other N.T. ministers did receive finances and provisions from God in order to fulfill their callings, but at the same time they also warned the people emphatically against materialism. They spoke out against covetousness/idolatry, while at the same time believing God to meet their needs [LUKE 12:15, EPH. 5:3, COL. 3:5, 1 THESS. 2:5, HEB. 13:5, 2 PETER 2:3]. Were they being hypocrites? NO! They understood the difference between using the things of this world without abusing them [1 COR. 7:31]. There is a big difference between believing God to meet our needs, and twisting the entire character of N.T. Christianity into a money focused mentality! The Christian should have a proper understanding of finances, as well as physical exercise, balance in family life and relationships, dealing with the practical concerns of life. But to exalt anyone of these areas of life and to make it the message of Christianity, and then to reshape the entire image of Christianity in order to make it fit our ‘peculiar’ style of belief would be wrong.

The very fact that there are in existence today million dollar ministries [which in itself is not wrong!], that teach people to give into their ministries with the promise of a sure return, and even appeal to poor saints to give out of their lack [social security checks, etc.], while all the while propagating a false gospel, is wrong!

These same ministries use the funds collected by false pretense and then preach the gospel of money, instead of a clear presentation of the gospel of Christ! Many of these ministries sincerely believe that it is a witness for Christ to have extravagant salaries, wear Rolex watches, drive a Cadillac and be a millionaire. They actually justify this by their own belief in the message they preach. They do not see it as wrong in the sight of God to finance this type of lifestyle/ministry from the offerings sent in by poor saints and widows! Many of their supporters are average, or struggling financially, and they give out of a sincere desire to better their own lives while at the same time furthering the work of God.

I know some of these precious believers who are struggling financially while sending in their ‘widow’s mite’ with hope and faith that things will turn around for them. No where in the N.T. do you find rich preachers appealing to poor saints to give into their ministries in order to receive a harvest! This is 100% against the character of N.T. Christianity. The bible actually condemns the idea of ‘shepherds’ taking advantage of their flocks for personal/financial gain [EZEKIEL 34, MATT. 23:14, 1 PETER 5:1-2].

The very fact that we have poor Christians sending in sacrificial offerings to millionaire ministries, often times because the preacher is appealing by the ‘word of the Lord’ to them, is wrong! Many of these ministries are using these funds to propagate a false view of Christianity to the world. They are preaching an unbalanced gospel while they themselves are bringing in large amounts of money. I appeal to the church at large to finance worthy ministries who are actually meeting the real needs of people around the world [good soil!], and to stop financing a false gospel!

CHAPTER 10 ‘IS THERE HOPE FOR FALSE PROPHETS?’

Why write this book? Over the years of struggling with these issues I would often come across an article, book or some type of testimonial that would expose many of the errors that are dealt with in this book. Some of the books I read seemed to leave little or no room for repentance and restoration of the ‘prosperity preachers’. I not only believe that Gods ultimate purpose in exposing sin is for the restoration of the individual, but there are examples of former prosperity preachers who have seen some of these gross errors and have returned to a balanced presentation of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

What constitutes a false prophet? While there are many characteristics that we can mention, I would like to deal with one specific area relevant to our study. That area is motivation. In 2 Peter chapter 2, the apostle deals with covetousness as a motive for teaching heresy [2 PETER 2:1-3]. He states that Balaam was a false prophet who ‘loved the wages of unrighteousness’ [2 PETER 2:14-16]. Although balaam's gift was legitimate, it was his motivation [the love of money] that caused him to use his gift in a wrong way. So you can have a true prophetic gift, and yet be a false prophet because of a covetous motivation [JUDE 11]. The early church even went so far as to brand someone a false prophet if they hung around more than a few days and charged for their ministry! [Read the Didache].

As mentioned earlier, Paul and Peter warned against being in ministry for financial gain [1 TIM.6, 2 PETER 5:2, TITUS 1:11]. Jesus himself laid down a strong warning against the hireling mentality [JOHN 10:12-13].

It is clear from these warnings [and the many others in the N.T.], that the early Christians were very aware of the dangers of the love of money. I have heard it taught that this ‘fear ‘ or ‘scared’ attitude towards money is just a ‘religious mindset’ that has no foundation in the word of God. This just isn’t true! The bible contains many warnings against materialistic living and covetousness that were the foundation of the ‘healthy fear’ that the early church had towards money.

Now the scripture teaches that there will be a time when certain teachers [false prophets] who are motivated by money, will teach false doctrines [Jesus and the disciples being rich, etc.] and that these teachers would connect faith and money [gain and godliness], as going hand in hand. Now if the current abuses of the prosperity movement do not fall into this category, then who does? We just can’t deny all the evidence pointing to this movement as one of the fulfillments of the ‘false prophets’ who teach that gain is godliness! We as a church must see this before there can be any true restoration of those involved, or more importantly a preventing of this false gospel from being taught to a whole new generation of believers!

The scripture says to rebuke false prophets sharply so THEY MAY BE SOUND IN THE FAITH [TITUS 1:13]. Even the false shepherds of Ezekiels day were promised restoration and usefulness in their latter years [EZEKIEL 44:10-14].

If we begin to renounce our errors and return to the Lord [repentance], there will be true renewal in the church. Jesus warned the church to repent because she had within her those that held to the ‘doctrine of balsam’ [REV. 2:14-16]. It is possible for those who have taught these errors to repent and be restored to a pure gospel of Christ.

Jesus dealt with the ‘money changers’ of his day just prior to the establishing of Gods kingdom. MARK 11:15-17 AND THEY COME TO JERUSALEM: AND JESUS WENT INTO THE TEMPLE, AND BEGAN TO CAST OUT THEM THAT SOLD AND BOUGHT IN THE TEMPLE, AND OVERTHREW THE TABLES OF THE MONEYCHANGERS, AND THE SEATS OF THEM THAT SOLD DOVES; AND WOULD NOT SUFFER THAT ANY MAN SHOULD CARRY ANY VESSEL THROUGH THE TEMPLE. AND HE TAUGHT, SAYING UNTO THEM, IS IT NOT WRITTEN, MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED OF ALL NATIONS THE HOUSE OF PRAYER? BUT YE HAVE MADE IT A DEN OF THIEVES. The moneychangers served as a sort of currency exchange for anyone wanting to bring any offerings or do any legitimate worship at Jerusalem, but needed to exchange their type of currency for the official currency that was accepted at Jerusalem. I find this interesting, because the function of the moneychangers themselves was a legitimate business function. But their business itself brought a type of merchandising to the temple that Jesus himself found highly offensive. I find a present day application to the moneychanger mentality in the modern prosperity movement. The movement teaches Christians to focus their attention on the return they will get on their investment into the kingdom. It causes Christians to give their offerings with the expectation of some type of return on their money. While this in itself is not wrong, for we know that God does reward his children [HEB. 11:6], the tendency of the prosperity message actually appeals to the covetous nature of people in order to make disciples of Christ! Jesus told people to forsake all to follow him, while the movement tells people if you follow him he will make you rich! I have heard it taught that as you sow your seed [money] into the offering basket that you need to 'picture' your harvest of what you are believing for in your mind [whether healing, a new car or house, the salvation of a loved one, etc.] and then your seed [money] will produce your harvest! The very idea of exchanging your money [or changing it!] into the visualized harvest of your own expectation is just as off base as the money mentality of the first century moneychangers. This is the only recorded incident in the N.T. where Jesus was visibly angry.

REVELATION 4:14-22 ‘AND UNTO THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH OF THE LAODICEANS WRITE; THESE THINGS SAYETH THE AMEN, THE FAITHFULL AND TRUE WITNESS, THE BEGINNING OF THE CREATION OF GOD; I KNOW THY WORKS, THAT THOU ART NEITHER COLD NOR HOT. SO THEN BECAUSE THOU ART LUKEWARM, AND NEITHER COLD NOR HOT, I WILL SPUE THEE OUT OF MY MOUTH. BECAUSE THOU SAYEST, I AM RICH AND INCREASED WITH GOODS, AND HAVE NEED OF NOTHING; AND KNOWEST NOT THAT THOU ART WRETCHED, AND MISERABLE, AND POOR, AND BLIND, AND NAKED: I COUNSEL THEE TO BUY OF ME GOLD TRIED IN THE FIRE, THAT THOU MAYEST BE RICH; AND WHITE RAIMENT, THAT THOU MAYEST BE CLOTHED, AND THAT THE SHAME OF THY NAKEDNESS DO NOT APPEAR; AND ANOINT THY EYES WITH EYESALVE, THAT THOU MAYEST SEE. AS MANY AS I LOVE, I REBUKE AND CHASTEN: BE ZEALOUS THEREFORE, AND REPENT. BEHOLD, I STAND AT THE DOOR, AND KNOCK: IF ANY MAN HEAR MY VOICE, AND OPEN THE DOOR, I WILL COME INTO HIM, AND WILL SUP WITH HIM, AND HE WITH ME. TO HIM THAT OVERCOMETH WILL I GRANT TO SIT WITH ME IN MY THRONE, EVEN AS I ALSO OVERCAME, AND AM SET DOWN WITH MY FATHER IN HIS THRONE. HE THAT HATH AN EAR, LET HIM HEAR WHAT THE SPIRIT SAITH UNTO THE CHURCHES.

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