#and gets all ‘you have made my father’s house into a den of thieves’ on them but an order of magnitude more intense

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

#both emotionally and symbolically i am rooting for vaggie or charlie to take out one of lute’s eyes #i was like ‘cool vaggie’s missing the opposite eye to her former mask!’ #and then i went back and saw that her mask was also different #and then i went down a rabbit hole of biblical mentions of bad things happening to eyes #i know god and jesus (and the holy spirit) probably won’t appear in the show #at least not in person #but i do cherish the mental image of adam and his genocidal army hanging out #when jesus christ bursts in with a whip #and gets all ‘you have made my father’s house into a den of thieves’ on them but an order of magnitude more intense #because HE SAID LOVE ONE ANOTHER #WHERE IS THE LOVE #HE SPECIFICALLY REQUESTED IT #i’m not christian! i’m a hardcore atheist! #religion is just as fictious to me as egyptian mythology #however i am also autistic and have major special interests in mythology and folklore #so here i am fervently writing analysis of the sermon on the mount #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie #hazbin hotel exorcists #hazbin exorcists #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin analysis

[cobragardens]

The Golden Lion

For all that Aziraphale is the more frightened of the two of them, Crowley is the snake: he camouflages himself carefully, and his first instinct is always to flee.

Aziraphale's is to stay. He insists on facing the Apocalypse. He insists on facing the Second Coming. He insists on trying to make a difference. He doesn't want to go up to Heaven, but he does it anyway, alone, because he wants to stop the destruction of Earth (again) and keep Crowley safe.

He's very difficult to shame, too. He never gives up his innocent pleasure in eating, even though Heaven, Hell, and probably people on Earth all mock him for it. He's soft and he remains soft, even after Gabriel shames him for both his physical and metaphorical softness. That takes a lot of strength and an unshakeable character.

You know the gold ring Aziraphale wears as a badge of office, that functions as the counterpart to Crowley's snake tattoo? The charge on that ring is a lion.

The heraldic attitude of the lion is rampant (i.e., reared up): it stands on its hind legs with its forelegs raised, as though attacking, and its head is forward-facing: it looks forward, toward the future.

Obviously in popular symbolism, lions represent bravery, and that definitely fits Aziraphale. He's literally leaving the only person who has ever loved him to go make the universe a better place for that person and for everyone, and he's going alone amongst the people who have despised and shamed him his whole existence and tried to kill him at least once; those people are mfing Heaven and have been entrenched in their power for thousands or millions of years. It doesn't get a whole lot braver than that.

In Christian symbolism specifically, the lion represents Christ. (He's referred to in the book of Revelation as the "lion of Judah" because the heraldic symbol for the tribe of Judah was a lion and Jesus was said to be from the tribe of Judah because his [step]father Joseph was from Judah.)

Normally when a story draws a parallel between a character and Christ, the parallel is one of self-sacrifice. That's not what's happening here. When symbolism for Christ represents his self-sacrifice, Jesus is invariably associated with a lamb--the sacrificial lamb--not a lion. When that symbolism represents Christ's mercy or holiness or divine nature/ordination, the dove of the Holy Spirit is used.

But the lion is a symbol inherited from the Old Testament. It represents royalty, power, threat, and seizure from others by force. Jesus is symbolically depicted as the lion upon his return to Earth during the book of Revelation. The lamb is Jesus' self-sacrifice and death for the sins of humanity, but the lion is Jesus' return, powerful, royal, and triumphant.

Does Aziraphale's ring foreshadow his involvement in the Second Coming of Christ? Probably! Is it a symbol that Heaven is the proverbial (and biblical) "lions' den" where they should be doves and lambs? Maybe.

I think it more likely that Aziraphale himself will be the lion, on a righteous rampage like Jesus chasing the moneylenders from the steps of the temple, telling them "It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Because the ring is a signet ring, meant to impress a seal that legally represented the wearer as an individual. So the lion is linked to Aziraphale himself.

Aziraphale is soft. It is one of his very best qualities. And soft and weak are not the same thing: because he is soft, he tried to kill the Antichrist, a child. Because he is soft, he stood alone before a demon in defiance of the will of Heaven and demanded with no power whatsoever to back him up that the demon spare children whose murder God had authorized. He, an angel of God, worked with a demon to deceive the Heavenly Host and, as he points out himself, thwart the will of God. Even before that, because he was soft, Aziraphale gave humans the gift of fire and self-protection and then lied to God Herself about it. I mean it literally does not get any more courageous than that.

And I can't stop thinking about what that lion, and that softness, and the link between the two is going to mean for S3.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens aziraphale's ring #aziraphale's ring #aziraphale #good omens analysis

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

2nd June >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Mark 11:11-26 for Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Forgive whatever you have against anybody’.

Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel 9Except USA)

Mark 11:11-26

The fig tree; the cleansing of the Temple.

After he had been acclaimed by the crowds, Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the Temple. He looked all round him, but as it was now late, he went out to Bethany with the Twelve.

   Next day as they were leaving Bethany, he felt hungry. Seeing a fig tree in leaf some distance away, he went to see if he could find any fruit on it, but when he came up to it he found nothing but leaves; for it was not the season for figs. And he addressed the fig tree. ‘May no one ever eat fruit from you again’ he said. And his disciples heard him say this.

   So they reached Jerusalem and he went into the Temple and began driving out those who were selling and buying there; he upset the tables of the money changers and the chairs of those who were selling pigeons. Nor would he allow anyone to carry anything through the Temple. And he taught them and said, ‘Does not scripture say: My house will be called a house of prayer for all the peoples? But you have turned it into a robbers’ den.’ This came to the ears of the chief priests and the scribes, and they tried to find some way of doing away with him; they were afraid of him because the people were carried away by his teaching. And when evening came he went out of the city.

   Next morning, as they passed by, they saw the fig tree withered to the roots. Peter remembered. ‘Look, Rabbi,’ he said to Jesus, ‘the fig tree you cursed has withered away.’ Jesus answered, ‘Have faith in God. I tell you solemnly, if anyone says to this mountain, “Get up and throw yourself into the sea,” with no hesitation in his heart but believing that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. I tell you therefore: everything you ask and pray for, believe that you have it already, and it will be yours. And when you stand in prayer, forgive whatever you have against anybody, so that your Father in heaven may forgive your failings too. But if you do not forgive, your Father in heaven will not forgive your failings either.’

Gospel (USA)

Mark 11:11-26

My house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples. Have faith in God.

Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the temple area. He looked around at everything and, since it was already late, went out to Bethany with the Twelve.

   The next day as they were leaving Bethany he was hungry. Seeing from a distance a fig tree in leaf, he went over to see if he could find anything on it. When he reached it he found nothing but leaves; it was not the time for figs. And he said to it in reply, “May no one ever eat of your fruit again!” And his disciples heard it.

   They came to Jerusalem, and on entering the temple area he began to drive out those selling and buying there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who were selling doves. He did not permit anyone to carry anything through the temple area. Then he taught them saying, “Is it not written:

My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples?

But you have made it a den of thieves.”

   The chief priests and the scribes came to hear of it and were seeking a way to put him to death, yet they feared him because the whole crowd was astonished at his teaching. When evening came, they went out of the city.

   Early in the morning, as they were walking along, they saw the fig tree withered to its roots. Peter remembered and said to him, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered.” Jesus said to them in reply, “Have faith in God. Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it shall be done for him. Therefore I tell you, all that you ask for in prayer, believe that you will receive it and it shall be yours. When you stand to pray, forgive anyone against whom you have a grievance, so that your heavenly Father may in turn forgive you your transgressions.”

Reflections (5)

(i) Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In the gospel reading, Jesus is very critical of how the Temple in Jerusalem was being run. According to the prophet Isaiah, whom Jesus quotes, the Temple was to be a house of prayer for all the nations, not just for Jews. Indeed, there was a special section of the Temple called the Court of the Gentiles where pagans, non-Jews, could gather. However, this space for non-Jews had been claimed for the various commercial activities that the Temple generated. There was the exchange of Roman coins, which had the head of the Emperor on it, proclaimed as a god, for Jewish or other less offensive coins which were acceptable in the Temple area. With these coins pilgrims could then purchase pigeons and other animals to offer as sacrifice in the Temple, which were being sold in this Court of the Gentiles. There was no room for the pagans or the Gentiles to gather in their assigned place as it had been taken over for all these activities. Jesus saw the Temple as like a fig tree that bore no fruit. It wasn’t bearing the fruit that God wanted, which was the gathering of all the nations in prayer. In place of the Temple, Jesus gathered a community about himself where there was room for Jews and pagans to gather in prayer. This new community came to be called the church. As Jesus says in the gospel reading, this would be a community of trusting faith in God, who would have the imagination to ask great things of God in prayer. As they stand in trusting prayer, they would be ready to pass on to others the forgiveness they had received from God. Because it would be a community of all nations, with great diversity, there would always be the possibility of conflict and, therefore, the need to forgive as we have been forgiven. We all belong to this new community of all the nations. As Paul says to the church in Corinth, and says to us today in our parishes, ‘Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?’ (1 Cor 3:16).

And/Or

(ii) Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading, after Jesus has taken quite dramatic action in the Temple of Jerusalem, he quotes from the prophet Isaiah, ‘my house shall be called a house of prayer for all the peoples’. In other words, the Temple was not just for the Jewish people, but for all peoples. In fact, there was a special court in the Temple area reserved for the Gentiles, for all non-Jews. This was the court that had been turned into a market, so that the pagans could not gather there. God’s purpose for the Temple was being frustrated by those responsible for the Temple. That is why Jesus took such drastic action. The great religious institution of the Temple was not serving God’s purpose. There is always the danger that religious institutions can serve purposes which are not those of God. When that happens drastic action is required. The risen Lord is always at work to purify the church, because the church is always in need of purification, of reform. That should not surprise us; it is to be expected. We all need to be open to the Lord’s renewing work among us and within us. That is why we pray, ‘thy kingdom come, thy will be done’.

 And/Or

(iii) Friday, Eighth week in Ordinary Time

This morning’s gospel reading is one of the most dramatic scenes in the gospels. The actions of Jesus in the Temple, the most sacred space for Jews, reveal his deep displeasure at how the Temple is being run and at what is going on there. The temple was intended to be a ‘house of prayer for all the peoples’ and, instead, it had become a ‘robber’s den’. The buying and selling that went on in the precincts of the Temple, which made a lot of people wealthy, had become more important that the original purpose of the Temple, which was to provide a space to worship God. The true focus of the Temple should have been God; instead it had become something much less than God. The Temple was like the barren fig tree that had ceased to bear fruit. It is not surprising that immediately after his actions in the Temple Jesus speaks to his disciples about prayer. Jesus was reminding his disciples that, even if the Temple, the primary place of prayer, was beyond redemption, prayer must remain central to their lives, especially the prayer of petition, ‘everything you ask and pray for...’. Jesus goes on to tell his disciples, and all of us, that our prayer, which expresses our relationship with God, has implications for our relationship with others. Jesus says that whenever we pray we must forgive whatever we have against anybody. As we open ourselves to God in prayer, we must, at the same time, open ourselves to others in love and mercy. Only then will our prayer be acceptable to God.

 And/Or

(iv) Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

The evangelist Mark often links two stories together that he perceives to have something in common. In this morning’s gospel reading he links the story of Jesus in the temple with the story of Jesus and the fig tree. Jesus could not find any fruit on the fig tree, and he declared that the tree had no future. Mark is implying that when Jesus entered the temple he found that it was not bearing the fruit it was meant to bear. Instead of being a house of prayer it had become a robber’s den. Like the fig tree, it too had no future. At the end of the gospel reading, Jesus speaks again about prayer. The temple is to be replaced by a new house of prayer, a new praying community, the community of those who do the will of God as Jesus has revealed it, the community of Jesus’ brothers and sisters, what came to be called the church. The church is to be a prayerful community. It is also to be a community that is marked by forgiveness. When Jesus speaks about prayer at the end of that gospel reading, he links it to forgiveness. ‘When you stand in prayer, forgive whatever you have against anybody, so that your Father in heaven may forgive your failings too’. The readiness to forgive as we have been forgiven is one of the primary fruits that God would expect to find among this new community of prayer.

 And/Or

(v) Friday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

In our gospel reading the evangelist, Mark, places the story of Jesus and the Temple in the middle of another story about Jesus and the fig tree. It is likely that Mark saw a connection between the fig tree and the Temple. When Jesus came to the fig tree looking for fruit, he found none on it. Likewise, Jesus did not find the kind of fruit in the Temple that he was expecting. According to the prophet Isaiah, whom Jesus quotes in the gospel reading, the Temple was intended by God to be a ‘house of prayer for all the peoples’. It wasn’t only for the Jewish people but for all peoples. Indeed, there was a special court within the Temple complex which was set aside for pagans. However, it seems that this court of the Gentiles, as it was called, had been taken over for all kinds of commercial activities such as the selling of animals for sacrifice and the exchange of money from the normal Roman coinage into one that was acceptable within the Temple area. All this was necessary work but it should not have been happening in the court of the Gentiles, thereby preventing pagans from gathering in the place assigned to them. When Jesus saw what was happening he became angry and began clearing the court of the Gentiles. The Temple was not being administered in the way God intended; it was like the barren fig tree. The gospel reading reminds us that the Lord calls every institution to account, including every religious institution. The institution of the church is always in need of reform so that it reflects God’s purpose for it. We can never allow ourselves to become complacent. What is true of the church as a whole is true of each one of us who make up the church. We have to continually open ourselves to the reforming and purifying work of the Lord. Such work is always a work of love because it comes from a heart which seeks our present and ultimate well-being.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[bills-bible-basics]

SNAKE OIL PROSPERITY PREACHERS -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List King James Version Bible verse list compiled by Bill Kochman concerning the topic "Snake Oil Prosperity Preachers". Visit my page at https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see all the lists I've compiled to date. Thanks! "And through COVETOUSNESS shall they WITH FEIGNED WORDS MAKE MERCHANDISE OF YOU: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not." 2 Peter 2:3, KJV "Not given to wine, no striker, NOT GREEDY OF FILTHY LUCRE; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous . . . Likewise must the deacons be grave, not doubletongued, not given to much wine, not greedy of filthy lucre;" 1 Timothy 3:3, 8, KJV "For a bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God; not selfwilled, not soon angry, not given to wine, no striker, NOT GIVEN TO FILTHY LUCRE . . . Whose mouths must be stopped, who subvert whole houses, teaching things which they ought not, for filthy lucre's sake." Titus 1:7, 11, KJV "Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; NOT FOR FILTHY LUCRE, but of a ready mind;" 1 Peter 5:2, KJV "For we are not as many, which corrupt the word of God: but as of sincerity, but as of God, in the sight of God speak we in Christ." 2 Corinthians 2:17, KJV "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for YE DEVOUR WIDOWS' HOUSES, and for a pretence make long prayer: therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation." Matthew 23:14, KJV "And he said unto them in his doctrine, Beware of the scribes, which love to go in long clothing, and love salutations in the marketplaces, And the chief seats in the synagogues, and the uppermost rooms at feasts: WHICH DEVOUR WIDOWS' HOUSES, and for a pretence make long prayers: these shall receive greater damnation." Mark 12:38-40, KJV "Beware of the scribes, which desire to walk in long robes, and love greetings in the markets, and the highest seats in the synagogues, and the chief rooms at feasts; WHICH DEVOUR WIDOWS' HOUSES, and for a shew make long prayers: the same shall receive greater damnation." Luke 20:46-47, KJV "And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Matthew 21:12-13, KJV "And the Jews' passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem, And found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves, and the changers of money sitting: And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables; And said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence; make not my Father's house an house of merchandise." John 2:13-16, KJV "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." Mark 11:15-17, KJV According to Thayer's Greek English Lexicon, the phrase "filthy lucre" is derived from the Greek word "aischrokerdes", the definition of which is "eager for base gain, greedy for money". According to Thayer's Greek English Lexicon, the word "corrupt" in 2 Corinthians 2:17 is derived from the Greek word "kapeleuo". This Koine Greek word means to be a retailer, to peddle, to make money by selling anything, to get sordid gain by dealing in anything, to do a thing for base gain, to trade in the word of God, to try to get base gain by teaching divine truth, to corrupt, to adulterate.

If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/snake-oil-prosperity-preachers-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=30288&_unique_id=63f257eeddda3&SNAKE%20OIL%20PROSPERITY%20PREACHERS%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

#KJV_Bible_Verse_Lists #abundant_life #bible #bible_study #bill_kochman #bills_bible_basics #filthy_lucre #greedy #king_james_version #kjv #merchandise #prosperity_gospel #prosperity_preacher #prosperity_preachers #scripture #scriptures #snake_oil #verse #verses

[bex-la-get]

26. “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.”

Aw. Nonny, I love this one! Okay, let's go!

I had to make a few adjustments to the prompt, but the point is still made.

From this ask list.

26) “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.”

Evelyn looked around the house frantically, trying find someone, anyone. But everywhere she looked, she only found an empty room.

"Hello?" she called. "Mom? Dad? Is anyone home?" No one answered.

"Noah? Lyddie? Anyone?" Still no response. Evie could feel her pulse increase, panic bubbling up inside of her. They wouldn't just leave. They'd never leave me behind.

Evie looked around some more, still with no success of finding anyone. Even Jenner and Louis seemed to be missing. When she finally checked her brother’s room, and found it completely empty without the smallest sign of his presence, she let the feeling of hopeless overwhelm her.

Feeling all hope was lost, Evie collapsed in the empty hallway, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob uncontrollably, knowing full well that no one would hear her crying.

Evie woke with a jolt, her heart pounding in her chest. It took a few moments for her to gather her surroundings, recognizing the familiar shapes of her bedroom. As her senses came back to her and her pulse began to slow, she realized she heard the muffled sounds of the television coming from downstairs.

Throwing the covers off of herself, she quietly made her way downstairs, careful not to wake her siblings. Following the sounds of the TV, she wandered into the den, finding her parents sitting on the sofa talking quietly to each other, a late night talk show playing on the TV in front of them. She watched for a moment as her mother said something that made her father laugh quietly and her shoulders relaxed. It was just a dream. Just a really bad dream. 

Stepping further into the room, Jenner was the first to notice her presence, his head perking up with his tail wagging. Noticing his change in demeanor, her parents turned their attention towards her and Ethan moved to turn the volume down on the TV.

“Hi honey,” Nat said. “What are you doing up?”

Evie shrugged. “I had a bad dream.”

Nat and Ethan looked at each other for a brief moment before they scooted away from each other and Ethan patted the open space between them on the sofa. “C’mere.”

Evie moved further into the room and sat in between her parents on the sofa, curling up into Ethan’s open arms. Ethan ran his hands up and down her back soothingly and kissed the top of her head. “Want to talk about it?”

Evie sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you have to say is stupid, Evie,” Natalie told her. “Don’t ever think that.”

Evie gave her mother a small smile and nodded. “It was just a... I dreamed that everyone left me. You guys, Noah, Lyddie... even Jenner and Louis. It was just me, left completely alone.”

“Oh, Evie,” Ethan said quietly, tightening his hold on her. 

“And I mean, I know logically that would never happen but it just felt so real and... it kind of shook me up, you know? And, I guess with all the talk lately of Noah getting ready to go to college, it... it feels like I’m losing my best friend. I know that sounds crazy.”

“It’s not crazy, Pumpkin,” Ethan reassured. “In fact, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

Ethan nodded. “It’s a big change, and you, Noah, and Lyddie have been thick as thieves since the day you were all born. It makes perfect sense that the idea of Noah leaving scares you.”

Nat hummed in agreement “But, baby, you have to understand, just because Noah might be leaving doesn’t mean you’re going to lose him. He’s your brother; he’s not going anywhere.”

Evie nodded. “I know,” she said, quietly.

“We would never leave you, Evie,” Ethan said. “And you will never lose us. Me, your mother, Noah, and Lydia. We’ll always be right here beside you. You’re stuck with us for life, kiddo.”

Evie giggled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Ethan kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly, causing her to laugh. “Dad, I can’t breathe!”

“Shh, you two will wake Noah and Lyddie,” Nat admonished.

Ethan smiled sheepishly. “We better listen to your mother, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Nat rolled her eyes and smiled. “You feeling better, Evie?”

Evie nodded and smiled. “Yeah, much.” 

Evie wiggled her way out of her father’s arms and into her mother’s waiting embrace. Nat held her daughter tightly for a long moment and kissed the top of her head. “Ready to go back to bed?”

“Mhm,” Evie nodded, yawning. 

With a kiss from both her parents, Evie made her way back to bed, Jenner following close behind. She fell back asleep feeling far more at peace than she had in a while. 

A/N: I have a headcanon that when Evie was born, Nat jokingly called her “my little Pumpkin Spice Latte.” Ethan hated the full nickname but liked Pumpkin and that’s what ended up sticking as a nickname.

Tagging separately.

#bex answers #asked and answered #anonymous asks #love confessions #ethan ramsey #natalie cusack #ethan x natalie #evie ramsey #the ramsack kids #ethan x mc #open heart mc #open heart oc #noah ramsey #lydia ramsey

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

The Alley Cat (re-uploaded)

So I cannot find my Thomas O’Malley short ANYWHERE on my blog (that’s happened a few times with shorts I’ve written that I’ve adored, and it makes me really upset)

So I thought I’d re-upload my short since I’ve been talking a bit about Thomas as a Jellicle, and his relationship with Tugger! I may end up turning this into a short fic, or write a sequel, but I’m not 100% sure yet. 

So here’s the re-uploaded Alley Cat short!

(this features @dcjelliclequeen33‘s oc, Athena, aka the love of my life)

Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks had four children. 

Their oldest was a tom that they named Thomas. He had his father’s charming, easygoing nature, but his mother’s caring eye and warm nature.  

Their next kitten was a queen who was given the name Athena, who was as protective as they came, and adored her big brother and parents. 

Bombalurina and Demeter were their final two kittens, and they were both different and wonderful in their own way. Bombalurina was fierce and bright, energetic and bright, and, while Demeter loved her sister dearly, she was quieter, and chose to remain close to her siblings and friends. 

The four siblings loved each other, and they loved their parents. Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks were very proud, and very fond of their four kittens.

Thomas and Old Deuteronomy’s youngest son, the Rum Tum Tugger, got along like a house on fire, and the two were rarely seen out of reach of each other. It was not uncommon to hear the two singing at the top of their lungs as they ran through the Junkyard, the tom kittens laughing as they chased after each other.

“I like a chee-chee-chee-chee-rony like they make at home! Or a healthy fish with a big backbone!” Thomas would sing, a grin on his face as he tackled Tugger triumphantly, and Tugger would pout as he kicked the older tom off of him. “I’m Abraham De Lacy, Guiseppe Casey, Thomas O'Malley! O'Malley the alley cat!”

Tugger stuck his tongue out at Thomas as he escaped his grasp, his fluffy tail twitching as he shook out his still-growing mane. “The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast! My disobliging ways are a matter of habit!” He would strut about the Junkyard proudly as Thomas laughed at him, but he would simply ignore the laughter and continue dancing around. “If you offer me fish, then I always want a feast. When there isn’t any fish then I won’t eat rabbit!”

The two toms were as thick as thieves, and when Thomas wasn’t spending time with Tugger dancing around and singing, he would either be with his sisters, or with his father at the railway station. While Skimbleshanks did not outright state that he was doing it, both he and Thomas knew that he was training his son to be the next Railway Cat, and Thomas was more than honored to be offered to take his father’s place, when the far-off day came. Skimbleshanks was a spry tom, so Thomas was not afraid of the day his father would be Chosen coming any time soon. 

Any plans of the future, however, were soon dashed by the revelation of Macavity’s madness, and his attack on his younger brother. 

Thomas hated himself for not realizing what was happening sooner. 

He should have seen the signs, he told himself. 

He should have realized that Athena was pulling herself away from the family, that Demeter was becoming snappish towards their parents and towards Munkustrap, the tom she once cared so deeply for, and he should have realized that Bombalurina was becoming more reclusive, remaining only around Macavity and her sisters, rarely interacting with anyone else.

Watching Macavity disappear with his sisters broke Thomas’ heart, and he hated himself for not chasing after them. 

“You can’t blame yourself, my dear.” Jennyanydots told him the night after everything happened, taking her son’s paw. “What happened was no one’s fault but Macavity’s.”

Thomas shook his head fervently, staring down at the ground. “I let them down, Mum. I was supposed to protect the girls, and I didn’t.” Skimbleshanks sat beside his son with a heavy sigh. “I can’t live with myself knowing that I could have stopped what happened.”

“We can’t change the past, lad.” Skimbleshanks said in a gentle but firm voice. “As much as we want to change everything, we cannot. We must live with our choices and our mistakes.”

“I can’t, Dad.” Thomas said, shaking his head as he covered his face with his paws in shame. “I was supposed to keep them safe from toms like Macavity.” He was ashamed, and he had failed completely. He was their big brother, he was supposed to have protected his little sisters.

And he didn’t.

A few weeks after Athena, Bombalurina, and Demeter left with Macavity, Thomas decided to leave the Junkyard.

It broke his heart leaving his parents, but the guilt was just too much. He couldn’t bear to hurt them anymore, to see the pain in their eyes as they walked around the near empty den, to see the pain in Munkustrap’s eyes every time he glanced at Tugger’s bandaged shoulder. 

It was all too much, and Thomas couldn’t stand it.

“I promise I’ll send word whenever I can.” He said after making his decision, hugging his mother tightly and nuzzling into her shoulder. 

Jennyanydots bit back a sob, stroking his fur lovingly. “Please, be safe, Thomas.”

Thomas nodded and stepped back, finding himself looking at his best friend. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can say to get you to stay here?” Tugger asked, his arms crossed as he fiercely held back any emotion. Thomas reached out, placing a paw on his uninjured shoulder. 

“I can’t… I’ve failed the girls, and I failed Mum and Dad, Tugs.” He said quietly, but Tugger couldn’t meet his eyes. Thomas shook the other tom gently.  “I promise, Tugs, I’m not going to become like her. I’m not cutting off ties with you all. You’re my family, no matter what happens.”

Tugger glanced back up at him, and gave him a small, curt nod. “Come back when you can.”

Thomas rubbed their shoulders together with a smile. “I will.”

With a final goodbye to the Jellicles, Thomas left his home.

He traveled all around, leaving London to see the rest of England, travelling until he ended up in Paris, France. Many times, Thomas met kind humans who let him stay in their homes for a few days, even a few weeks if he was lucky. He could never be a real housecat like his mother, too much had changed for that to happen, so he remained in the streets, meeting up with fellow alley cats and singing loudly every night. 

It was the one thing that Thomas could still do, the one thing that still made him feel like a Jellicle, even if he was miles away from home.

He would receive messages from his family via the mice that would make the journey between London and Paris, and he sent messages back, always promising that he would never become like the Glamour Cat, who had abandoned her family. 

(His favorite mouse was one named Roquefort, and the mouse eventually decided to stay in Paris, hunkering down in a lavish mansion in one of the upper-class sections of the city. Thomas visited the mouse frequently, the two joking, singing, and sharing memories of the Junkyard into the night.)

When he received word that his sisters had returned to the Junkyard, Thomas knew that he needed to return home as well. He had been on his way, humming his song to himself, excited for the journey ahead, when he had met her. 

Thomas had taken one look at the beautiful, pure-white queen and her trio of kittens, a precious white queen who was identical to her mother, a little black tom who sang loudly and proudly, and a little ginger tom who quite honestly looked as if he could have been Thomas’ own, and Thomas knew he’d never be able to part from them. 

And that was perfectly fine with him.

#cats the musical #the aristocats #thomas o'malley #rum tum tugger #jennyanydots #skimbleshanks #demeter #bombalurina #athena #munkustrap #duchess #marie #berlioz #toulouse #thomas o'malley is a jellicle and no one can tell me otherwise #liv's writing corner

[villainousshakespeare]

A Forest Interlude Chapter 26   An Audience with the King

Summary: Eleonore (OFC) discovers a wounded man in the woods near her home and seeks to heal him. Little does she know that it is none other than the heir to the throne, Prince Hal of England.

Chapter: 26 of 27

Rated E

Warnings: smut, sex fluff, angst, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs

(spoiler - don’t worry, it will all work out okay in the end)

In this chapter: Henry give his verdict on their marriage

Read the entire story on AO3

@nrthmnsplbnd09 ;  @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty@just-the-hiddles @from-hel-i-with-love  livviedoo@hopelessromanticspoonie @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen@dangertoozmanykids101 @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @shiningloki@hiddlesholic @isitmadnessrpg​

It was something of an understatement to say that Hal was not having the best day. Between his embarrassing scene at the palace and his confrontation with his former companions, he was having to take a good, hard look at his behavior, and he was not enjoying what he saw. His youthful indiscretions were fine when it had only been his safety and good name that were at risk; he could fend off any affronts on either flank, he knew. But today those indiscretions had put Nell and their unborn child in harms way, and that he could not abide.

Hal had loved others in his life of course. He still remembered the devastation he felt when his mother had passed away, for instance. He felt a filial affection for Jon and, to a lesser extent, his other siblings. In his own way, yes, Hal loved his father. It was sometimes a bitter, self-mocking love, but it was love nonetheless. He even, deep down where he blushed to look, love that old rascal Falstaff.

None of that had prepared him for the sweeping emotion he felt for the beautiful woman now seated in the circle of his arms on the saddle before him. If any harm should have befallen her, he would have burnt the Boars Head to the ground with all of those thieving reprobates inside. Add to that the fact that she was giving him the greatest gift a man could hope for - a child, heir of his body and product of their love for each other - and that the japes of careless fools had also put the well being of the babe at risk. Hal felt his blood begin to boil again just at the thought.

It was not, all things considered, the state of mind best suited for a second audience with his royal sire. Hal tried to keep to a minimum his interactions with Henry. It seemed best for both their sakes since conversations usually left them both in states of heightened agitation. Two in one day was a disaster waiting to happen. At best Hal knew he could expect a dressing down over his actions earlier that day, at worst... well, just let Henry try to take Nell away from him! He would learn that Hal was not a tame cat to be ordered about at will, but a Lion in his own right ready fight to defend his own.

In this mood he rode into his father's courtyard, helped his obviously anxious wife to dismount, and handed his reins to an expectant groom. Nell looked up at him with eyes clouded with anxiety and he smiled at her, hoping to shield his own worry from her.

"All will be well my love, I give my word," he told her softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Tis not the way I hoped the time would come when you and I would once more meet the king," she sighed, giving him a shaky smile.

"Why no? How could we e'er improve on this?" he laughed, brushing her hair back from her face.

"For one, I might perhaps have worn a dress," she groaned.

"You look divine, my goddess, as you always do. Let any man say otherwise to me, and I will teach him better with my sword."

"Aye, that will ease our entrance to the court," she said with an eye roll. "Well, best to face the music and have done. Shall we proceed then to the lion's den?"

"Your bravery doth quite put me to shame. Onward, dear wife, to victory obtained."

Hand in hand, with a silent Renaldo shadowing their heels, they made their way down the twisted halls until they reached the entry to Henry's audience chamber. With a curt nod of his head, Hal signaled to the attendant to announce them. He would not repeat his faux pas of that morning and barge in unannounced. Better to pick his battles.

"His Royal Highness, Henry, Prince of Wales," the man intoned, "And Princess Eleanor to see you, Sire."

Well, Nell had been given her proper title. He supposed that was something. Wrapping his arm around her protectively, Hal sauntered into the room. A quick glance around showed it to be surprisingly empty of functionaries. Henry would of course have had advanced word of their arrival, the court was full of spies. Apparently it was a private audience with his wayward son that he desired.

"My lord and father, health be with you sir," he said by way of greeting, dipping his head in salute.

Nell stayed silent but dipped an elegant curtsy, prying herself free from his arm to do so. Henry slouched on his throne, eyes hooded as he looked over the pair. Renaldo, ever the vigilant servant, quickly dropped to his knee and then, at a wave from the king, took up his place beside and slightly behind the throne. As the silence stretched on, Hal let a small, ironic smile play about his lips, the one he knew Henry hated. His father sought to play power games, fine. He would wait the old bastard out.

"I am most sorry for the trouble, sire," Nell blurted out, stepping slightly forward. "I promise that I had it well in hand, but was yet grateful that you gave Hal help."

One of the king's eyebrows raised itself at her nervous outburst, and Hal closed his eyes briefly, unable to blame her. She did not have his years of sparring with the cold king to draw on. At last his father lifted his head and met Hal's eye.

“I see you managed to retrieve the girl,” Henry groused. “I can’t say that is an unmixed delight.”

"I am as always left quite humbled sir, by your enthusiasm for my joy."

"Presumptuous cub, who gave you leave to speak?" the king snapped as Nell elbowed Hal in the ribs. "Well now you know us guiltless in the crime, who was it then that took the girl from you? Or did she come at last into her wits and seek to fly from you all on her own? Tell me, Renaldo, where you found her out?"

"A drinking house in Eastcheap, good my lord," the guard said, with a quick glance towards Nell and Hal. "It seems the patrons of the public house did seek to make acquaintance of her grace."

"I do suppose it serves no good to ask if this be the same house that often times her loving husband hath been known to haunt?"

"It is the one, my king, I must confess. And that same rascal Falstaff, as he's called, did look to be the author of the prank."

"For which offense, too great for me to bear, I have henceforth exiled him from my life. If he or any of his merry band do seek me out then all that they will find shall be my door shut firmly in their face."

"He told the knight as much before we left," Renaldo confirmed when the king looked over at him, "in terms so stark they could not be misheard."

Henry rose from his throne and crossed to the window, staring out of it for some time. Once again time seemed to stretch on in silence. Hal could tell Nell was getting antsy again, and gave her hand a squeeze. She darted her eyes up to him and he shook his head slightly. He could understand her anxiety, he was feeling it himself. Unfortunately, any attempt to rush the king would only end in pushing him into anger. Finally Henry turned and walked back over, stopping to look penetratingly at Nell.

"For years God knows how I have strove to find a way to free him from the fat knight's sway. It seems instead of guards and royal writs I should have sent a pair of pretty eyes. If it is true that he has turned away from all these gross and undesirable ways, not just myself but all of this our realm would seem to be indebted now to you."

"I did no more than love him, majesty," Nell replied simply, blush staining her cheek.

"And if we are to talk of gratitude," Henry went on, ignoring her statement completely, "it seems mine must not end with this today. I hear from doctor Hobbs that it was you who cared for me when I was last beset."

Ah, there it was! The reason that there were no others in the room. He would not want any more people knowing of his seizures than absolutely necessary.

"I am right glad that I could be of help," Nell said. "Though Dr. Hobbs was not too long absent. I chanced to have seen something similar when I was learning to care for the ill."

"Your mother also, if I be correct, knew much of lore pertaining to the sick."

"She did my lord, and still knows more today."

"She and my younger son do think me blind, that I see not their shameful goings on. But I suppose at least in that one case I need not fear a wedding in the end. Which brings us back to you and the crown prince."

Hal, uncharacteristically quiet up until now, snapped to attention. His father met his eye and held it with an open appraisal. What he was looking for Hal was uncertain, but he seemed to find it at last, as he gave a nod of his head.

"I do not like the way you two were wed, in clandestine a manner gainst my will. I sometimes think your only goal in life is but to mock my wishes and my name."

"Oh do not think it father, tis not so. I seek to bring no shame upon our house, or any other way disgrace our name. I am a man full grown, my will's my own. But tell me, would you wish it otherwise than that the future king of this our realm, refuse to dance to any other's tune?"

"There maybe something there in what you say. When it doth comes to choosing your revolts, I must admit I greatly do prefer you to defy me for noble lass who bringeth out your chivalry and grace than for a brace of mottle pated fools who seek only to lead you into sin."

"Oh fear not sir, for this my lady wife doth lead me into heady sin enough!" Hal could not resist saying.

"Must you vex me thus you willful boy?" Henry growled, eyes flashing. "Tis pain enough to speak what I must say without you making matters harder still."

"And what, good father, is it you would say?"

"That since you have been married in the church, and Lady Eleonor is of fit rank, kin to the royal families of name, and seeing as she has in some small ways been of good use already to our throne..."

"Come, out with it sir! Say what you would say!"

"Keep silent, Hal, and let your father speak!" Nell snapped at him, with a glare to equal Henry's.

"I only hope that there will come a day when some of her wit doth rub off on you. But being as it may, know you my son, that I will to your marriage make no cross."

"Your Majesty, you have my deepest thanks!" Nell said, sinking once more into a curtsy and shooting Hal a speaking look.

"And mine, as well, my father, add to that," he hastened to say, the specter of fear at last lifting from them. "But tell me father, ere your fit did come, do you remember aught of what we spoke?"

"But little Harry, if the truth be told," Henry admitted, sitting back in his throne. "And that I do is shrouded in a haze."

"Then let me tell you once again, good sir. There is another reason to rejoice. For my beloved, clever little wife is even now expectant with our heir. And so you see, the marriage hath been blessed, and God as well as you do smile on it."

"I will not count the days upon my hands that you two have been married under God and in union have conceived this child," Henry remarked dryly. "I only will say that it pleases me."

"It pleases me as well, I must confess," Hal said with a cocky grin, embracing Nell and making her squeal. "And now, if you'll excuse us, majesty, it has been quite the day for my dear bride. If we may have your leave sir to depart, I wish to take her home and tend to her."

Only on the last words did he let his eyes go hot as he looked at Nell.

"Well, do so then. And god go with your both. But one last thing that I would ask of you. The lady is a princess now by right. See to it, would, you, she be properly dressed. The bills for this you may all send to me."

"Why father, there is naught would please me more!" Hal grinned, bowing his exit.

When the reached the courtyard, he tossed her up onto his horse.

"Well, lovely wife, is seems the day is one! How doth it feel to be a true princess?"

"A bit unreal, if I am speaking true. But Hal, how I do wish I'd worn a dress!"

"Think not of that, for I shall see to all," he told her, a glint in his eye. "And when I have a wardrobe made for you appropriate for my own sweet princess, you will not need to fear his grace's ire, for none but me will ever see it worn!"

Nell blushed and he grinned wider, imagining just what he would have made for her at his father's expense.

#The Hollow Crown #Henry V #Prince Hal #Prince Hal/OFC #Romance #Historical Romance #Historical AU #Fan Fic #Tom Hiddleston #Smut #Love #Angst #Fluff

[hildorien]

A Rom-Com in Dom-Lomin.

Ataniweek Day Two: Edain. 

I wrote this because Morwen and Hurin deserve a whole lot of love. They aren’t a fairy tale romance, they don’t get a happy ending, but they were deeply in love and deserved a happy ending. Only the best for the true Gomez and Morticia of Arda.   

@ataniweek

A03 LINK (X)

It was no secret who Hurin, son of Galdor, loved more than any jewel in a noldor's private coffers. She was black as night and a true beauty. Sadly, she was colder than ice and had a tongue sharper than the best sword but Hurin only saw his whole universe in her. Even from the age of six, he met her dark brown eyes and that sealed his fate. He had always tried to impress her. 

He climbed trees he shouldn’t have, to impress her.

He picked fights he couldn’t win, for her. 

He wrote a love letter after love letter, each one more dramatic and bad as the last.

Morwen, for her part, had adored him too then and until the end of her days. It was said she regarded him as her first friend in a new and scary land she had to flee to in rags. She did not see pity in his eyes, only the shine of the sun and a mischievous tint and that meant everything to her. After that small act of kindness, it was like God, himself, granted them his blessing to go and be in love. 

They had been together for years, not once did one’s heart wander away from each other. Not even the flowers found during his entrapment in Gondolin could make Hurin wander. When he returned from that place, his brother at his side, the cold rain of north east Beleriand bearing on him, he saw her on the battlement like a spirit of war with only a lantern and a cloak. He made his way through the gate, leaving his brother in the dust and ran to where she stood. 

He smiled, “you waited for me.” 

“You are late.”

“I’ve always been late, my lady,” he laughed stalking closer to her to cup her cold cheek in one hand. “But I hope you can forgive me.” 

In her grey eyes was a fire as she spoke, “make it up to me then, Hurin.” 

He smiled and kissed her, dipping her slightly despite the rain, he felt so warm as her arms wrapped around his neck. Pulling away and gazing on her soft, smug smirk, Hurin realized something. 

He wanted to marry her. 

Now. 

But the words didn’t escape his lips before Morwen started pulling them down the stairs towards her house. 

-

It had been a month since he returned from Gondolin and he still couldn’t find the words. He stalked around his house, his brother giving him tired look. 

“I think if you just asked, she’d say yes.”

“I can’t, everytime I see her, I just freeze.”

“Fearsome Hurin, son of Glador, taken down by the steely gaze of his true love,” Huor mocked as he bit into his apple. “What a horrible things to have bard write about you, utterly pathetic.” 

Hurin smacked him, “I’m being serious and don’t mock me when you can’t even talk with Rian.” 

“She’s just too nice!” He whined out, his words slurred by pieces of apple that flung out of his mouth onto the table. 

“Whatever,” Hurin snorted and sat down, his head in his hands. It was then that a tired Galdor came walking through the door; despite his disposition, he looked amused at his two young sons. 

“I heard your hennish squawking from outside boys. What are you fighting about now?” He asked. 

It was noted that Huor resembled his father more than Hurin did. He was tall like Galdor. Huor often spoke like Galdor, respectful and metaphorically. It was something among the Edain that was labeled as very Elvish; as to hide your feelings behind words and riddles rather than giving a straight answer. Even sometimes as they grew older and older, people mistook Huor for Galdor if he was looked at from the back. Most days this minded Hurin not, he did not mind being smaller than most (even smaller than Morwen), or that he was loud on the border of being too loud, or that he was blessed with his mother’s Haladin features but there were others were he wondered if his father wished the two brothers had been born with Huor as eldest (therefore heir to his legacy ) and him as youngest (the spare). 

“It’s nothing important father, just,” Huor gave him a smug look. “Hurin’s just being a ninny about asking Elfsheen to marry him.” 

He picked up an apple and lobbed it at him. “Don’t call her that she hates it.” 

Galdor laughed, “it’s a complement to her beauty.” 

“She hates it, so I hate it.” 

“Devotion is a good trait to have,” his father said absentmindedly, “but please stop lobbying apples at your brother.”

“I will when he stops being an ass.” 

Huor stuck out his tongue like a child. 

“Then that will be like waiting for the sun to rise in the west.” 

Hurin’s face broke out into a smile while Huor's turned to horror. “Father!” 

Hurin imitated his words in a whiny tone, “One-Almighty! Sometimes you're so pretentious. You never called him father before Gondolin, just say Da, like a normal person.” 

“The Elves in Gondolin call their Da’s ‘father,’” the younger boy mumbled munching on his apple. 

“You aren’t an Elf, Huor,” Hurin rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, enough boys,” Galdor put his foot down. “So you are serious about Morwen?”

“I’ve been serious since I was a babe, Da.” 

Galdor smiled, “that may be true. But have‘ye asked Emeldir yet?”

“Emeldir?” 

“She is Morwen’s keeper, is she not? That bear of a women,” he said with a roll of his eyes almost out of habit, though a friendly and loving lent never left his voice. Galdor and Emeldir butted heads, but it was like Hurin and Huor, a sibling relationship. The strong chieftess of the Beorians had enamoured the settlement of Dom-lomin with her striking inability not to die, not from illness, or grief. She watched over every child she brought with her as if they were her own. No one was more enamoured by her than Hurin’s own mother Hereth. The two were thick as thieves. Hurin imagined it was because Emeldor reminded his mother of the women from her youth in Brethil, who she missed dearly. 

“I have not,” he gulped. 

“I think it would be best if you asked her before you did anything impulsive. You wouldn’t want to upset the bear women of the Beorians by asking the hand of one of her favorite wee ones without even so much as a notice?” 

Hurin could see his body very clearly thrown in a ditch somewhere where no one would find it if he did that. Nodding to his father, he made plans to visit Emeldir in the coming days. 

-

Emeldir’s house was uttermost east of the main village of Dom-Lomin. It was located near the land designated for holy sights where festivals would happen, the highest vantage point of the whole main village. Now it was called the Grey Corner, or the Beorian Quarter since that's where the refugees located themselves. His father had given them full range to live wherever they wished, but they wished to remain almost separate from the rest of them all. Some found it odd, other a little insulting, but Hurin somewhat understood, the best he could. They had lost so much. All they wanted was a place to rebuild and remain Beorians rather than just another section of the people of Marach or Hador. He grew to see as a very Edain way of doing things; coming into a new land and making it yours despite someone else threatening to overcome you and make you them. It was early that morning when he went, the sun had barely came over the peaks of the mountains when he reached the steps of the Beorian’s chieftess' house. It was given the name “white-den” by him and some other children back in Hurin and Morwen’s youth because it was made of white wood and some children had been sure Emeldir had been one of those Bear shape changers. Hurin wasn’t one of them, but if he was going to find out if he was wrong, it would be now. 

Knocking on the large door, he heard a soft “come in!” 

He opened the door, he saw Rian coming down out from the kitchen area. The house was rather dark still, silent. He hoped Morwen wasn’t home. 

“Oh! Rin-rin,” she cooed, her clothes were covered in dirt and she held a hoe in her hand. Hurin gave her a small smile and gave her a small hug. She refused to call him anything less than the name she gave as a babe. “Morwen isn’t home.” 

“Ah,” Hurin smiled, “I am actually here to talk to Elemdir?” 

Rian blinked, and cocked her head to the side, “why?” 

“I needed to ask her a question.” 

“Ah, I see,” Rian smiled, her smile was soft and shiny; utterly polite and coy. It was a ‘princess’ smile, Morwen called it. Sometimes it was hard for Hurin to understand that she came from the same family that produced Morwen and Elemdir. She was more of a flower than the cold rock the rest of her family was. She was somehow still soft, sweet on the eyes and the ears, more interested in singing and dancing than politics. She was a folk tale princess come to life, that is what his brother always said about her. He had always fancied her, respectfully from a distance. The two of them dancing around each other, constructing their perfect folk tale romance.  It all seemed like too much work for Hurin’s take rather than to be not subtle about his feelings and have a constant bedmate. For that reason, she was never Hurin’s type. 

“She’s in the barn. You can go around and see her.” 

“Thanks Rian.” He turned. 

“Oh and Hurin,” she called after him as he walked off. 

“Yes?”

“Don’t let her scare you,” she winked. “She’s all bark and no bite.” 

Hurin laughed. She may have been more a flower than a rock, but she was still a Beorian. 

-

If there was ever a moment that defined who Elemdir was as a women, it was right now, Hurin thought to himself. She was wearing her typical black dress (that she either wore for mourning or she wore to be even more terrifying than she was), her hair was outfitted with beautiful beads and clips, her face was lined with wrinkles and her hair was looking more silver each day and yet she looked like a chieftess, no, a true Queen worthy of the throne. However, it was juxtaposed against the fact that her hands were stuck in the guts of a deer as if she was common hunter. She barely looked at him when she grunted welcome at him at him. 

“Hello Hurin.”

“Hello Chieftess.” He bowed, still, respectfully as his mother had taught him. 

“Why are you here?”

“I have a question for you,” Hurin squirmed. 

She ripped the heart out of the animal, “and that would be?”

“I would like to ask Morwen’s hand in marriage.” 

She threw the heart into a bowl, the blood splattered onto Hurin’s face. There seemed to be a chill in the air the moment the words left him. She looked at him as if examining his very soul, not a single emotion on her face. Hurin frowned. 

“Is you're silence a no ma’am?” 

She raised up a bloody gloved hand. “I have a question for you before I give you my answer.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Do you love her?” 

“More than the sun, moon, and stars. She’s my best friend.” Hurin spoke his cliche words with sincerity. It was the truth, and for that, he was not ashamed. 

Softly a smile appeared on her weathered face, “then the answer from me is yes.” 

Hurin knew he wanted to cry but he kept his face stoney as to not embarrass himself. “Thank you, Chieftess.” 

“I cannot say she will say yes, though,” Emeldir said evenly.

“Even if she does not,” he smiled. “I will have her know she is the only woman who will have my heart.” 

With that he turned to leave, before Emeldir called out for him, so he turned back to her. 

“Your a good man, Hurin. You remind so much of my husband and my son, both of whom are lost to us all now, please,” she pleaded. “Don’t gamble away your life away for stupid reasons and leave my little one heartbroken and weathered like I am.” 

“I will try not to, Chieftess.” That was all he could offer her in these times. 

“That is all I ask you to do.” 

-

It was a rush of happiness since that moment. He tried to ask Morwen to wed him so many times it was almost a joke by now but each and every time they fell short. Every time something was wrong. They were either failures on his part put to get the words out or nature ruined the moment. It just had to be the rainy season when he got his okay from Elemdir. Though sometimes much worse ruined any goodwill and happiness in Hurin. The pyre he stood in front of said it all. 

“The smell of burning flesh is horrible,” Hurin said to himself as he watched his father’s body become ash with the rest of the fallen. He was chief now, and yet he still felt like a child. Too much like a child to lead his people, too much of a child to have lost his father. He felt as if someone had extinguished his flame with ice water and left him to languish in the bitterest winter blizzard. He couldn’t even comfort his mother or brother, he could barely comfort himself. He was being hailed as a hero, but what kind of hero couldn’t save his own family? 

He cursed everything when he lifted his father’s body to the wise women and men to clean his body. He wondered why the One Almighty would take good men like his father away them but keep Morgoth and his monsters around to kill those good men. 

In his anguish, he felt something touch his shoulders. It was fur. 

“Standing here in the cold doesn’t bring them back,” Morwen was stoic as always as she stood next to him. She had left the mob of wailing women still singing funeral songs that had long had the Edain sung when they lost someone too early. Her grey eyes staring into his soul. 

“Fighting didn’t do anything either. Nothing does.” 

“You did what you could.”

“Then why do I feel so cold?” Hurin asked, his voice was rough and mean and he practically barked at her. She didn’t seem very impressed. 

“Because you love so strongly, and you care, and you hate to lose. But loss is a part of our life, Hurin, that’s the fate of mortals like we are. We cannot linger with what we did, what could have been done, the what ifs, we can only keep going. Let the dead be dead, but do not die with them. That is what I have learned.” She it all like it made sense. 

“But I, too, have lost my father, my mother, cousins, aunts, and uncles. I know loss, Hurin. This is a new experience for you, but the pain will always be fresh no matter how many times it happens. He was your father, you are allowed to feel pain, allowed to feel cold, allowed to cry. I never allowed myself to cry, and it only brought more pain. I was in so much pain before I met you Hurin, but you taught me that crying and that the pain I was feeling wasn’t weakness and neither is yours now.” 

“Chiefs shouldn’t cry.” Hurin said weakly, his eyes shadowed and glossy. 

She looked at him, a soft and warm hand went to his cheek. “But Hurin, son of Galdor, should.” 

With only a few words, she had unravel him. He broke down; ugly wet streaks came down his face, he scooped her up in his arms and sobbed. Her arms tangled around him like wisteria on a wall. He slept with her that night, nothing happened, it rarely did these days. They weren’t kids anymore and he was increasingly more busy. Eventually being Chief got easier after a year, the pain dulled, and then after two he was finally starting to get the gist of this thing he was groomed his whole life for. It helped that Morwen was at his side constantly, a beorian through and through her mind was made for this kind of work. She could neogate and organize with the best of them. She was often the logic to his emotions, his blue to his red, often just smarter than him.

One night, they sat together late into the night piecing together Taliska and Sindarin documents and talking about crop rotation under candle light when Morwen paused and stared at Hurin. 

He laughed, “was it something I said about the peas?” 

“I’m tired of waiting, Hurin.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Hurin, will you marry me?” She reached inside her cleavage to pull out a ring. 

His jaw fell open. 

#morwen #hurin thalion #the children of hurin #children of hurin #turin turambar #silm #silmarillion #ataniweek #edain #house of hador #house of beor #rian #hour #atani week #fanfic #tea with milk

[penwieldingdreamer]

Pretending?

So this is the first part of my very first story on Tumblr. I hope you will like the introduction of our main characters. Of course neither Ben nor his family and friends belong to me, which is why I’m doing this ;)

Summary:

For the longest time Louise’s mother wants her to settle down, Ben hasn’t been in a serious relationship for a while. Their mother’s decide to take matters into their hand and try to set them up, but turn about is a fair game. Though are they really pretending?

Part 1

June 2020, California

“See, I knew you guys couldn't just pretend to be in love.” Jack clapped his older brother on his back, earning a groan from the dark haired actor. “If I had to make a bet, I'd say it was Christmas 2017. Mum was so excited.”

His former co-star and good friend John stood behind them, shaking his head at their antics. “I saw it, when Ben and Louise came around for that barbecue before we started filming. We had to get to know each other so I called him up.”

Ben just rolled his eyes, not believing his friends starting a bet on the second most important day in his life. Thankfully Skandar Keyens stopped them. “Guys shut up! There comes the bride.” He pointed to the entrance of the church where the bridesmaids already moved forward after the flower girls and ring bearers.

His eyes widened when Louise came into few, a sweet smile gracing her lips and her eyes shining with love. Before his inner eye he could see all the moments he felt himself falling more and more in love with the angel that came into his life four years ago.

                                                       ~¤~

Agust 2016, London

Her blonde tresses up in a messy bun, the clear rimmed glasses perched on her delicate nose she looked through the pictures on the digital camera. A soft smile on her lips as she thought about her sisters upcoming wedding. Hopefully Jenny would like her ideas for the wedding cake and decorations.

“This is where I always find you, my darling girl.” her mother spoke, the corners of her lips moving upwards. “Either you're in the kitchen or your art room. When will you think of finding a nice young man for yourself Louise?”

Sighing Louise put her camera down, moving away from the table with the cake. She put her hands out, taking her mothers and sitting down on the small couch. “Mum, you know how much I love you and that you're just looking out for me, but I'm twenty-seven years old. Old enough to look for someone and settle down, which I still got plenty of time for.” Louise said, holding up her hand when her mother wanted to interject. “But at the moment I need to plan out Jenny's wedding, there's no time for any guy right now.”

“Why don't you come to Tricia's work party? Her family will be there and her oldest son is coming back from America.” Angela grinned at her daughter, hoping to sway her in any way.

With a shake of her head the blonde stood from her position. “I'll need to get the flower compositions done for Jenny. Maybe you could take her to the florists to see which ones will fit her theme the best.” This left no room to argue any more, hopefully her mother would get the hint.

She had met the oldest son of Tricia and Thomas Barnes briefly at one of the gettogethers their mothers organized regularly. He was nice and gentlemanly, everything a woman could want for in her better half, but even with all the pushing her family did, she wouldn't let herself get tangled up with a guy.

“But darling” her mother started, but was stopped by the hand of her father Matthew. “Angela, leave her be. She'll come around eventually.”

He smiled at his youngest daughter. She was the apple of his eye. Well both his daughters were, but Jenny already had someone to look after her, so it left Louise to be looked after by her daddy.

They always had a special bond.

When she was a little girl, wherever her father went, the blonde would follow him. She even went to his office in the city, to watch him work.

Matthew Dennings worked as architect and sometimes interior designer, which why they had added modern glass extensions to their townhouse in Holland Park. Everything that was in their home was build and designed by his own hands.

A talent he obviously gave his younger daughter. She loved art and design, crafting things and was mostly found in the sun lit art studio or in the kitchen, taking pictures of her cooked or baked creations.

“Oh, all right.” Angela sighed, getting up from the settee as well. “The two of you have always been as thick as thieves.” She left the kitchen after dropping a kiss on her daughter's forehead and one on her husbands cheek.

Matthew watched his daughter working, looking over combinations for the flower arrangements. “You know, your mother and I just want you to be safe and taken care of, should something happen to us. Jenny is a lawyer, as is Christopher. They've got their own jobs and their own home.”

“So, you're saying that because I'm still living in this house and earning money with my freelance works I can't take care of myself?”

Shaking his head, her father walked over, pulling the young woman into a tight embrace. “That is not what I meant. I just think that it would make your mother very happy if you went to Tricia's party and get to know her sons a bit.”

Reluctantly Louise moved her head up and down on her father's broad chest, giving in with a soft sigh.

“Okay.”

                                                       ~¤~

“Darling, are you really sure you can make that trip? I don't want you to exert yourself.” Tricia Barnes was concerned for her eldest son. Ben had told her that he was going to have to get his wisdom teeth removed – that was two days ago. Now he wanted to come home to London for a short visit, before he had to get back to filming.

A soft, yet slightly pained chuckle escaped the dark haired actor. “I'm sure Mum. The doctor cleared me to fly, so I'll see you some time tonight when I get in.”

“Don't you want us to get you from Heathrow? There'll be so much traffic, it's a Friday night.”

Rubbing the ice pack along his right cheek, Ben told his mother No. He'd probably just take the Tube to his family home. “Don't worry. It's a late flight so it's probably gonna be midnight when we touch down.”

“If you say so Ben.” his mother sighed, knowing there was no argument left. “Have a save flight and drop a quick message when you touched down, so I know you're okay.”

He agreed and hung up his phone. His bags were packed and he just needed to get to the airport. With the surgery he couldn't work right now and filming was currently on hold. It was good to get back home again and see his family, spending time with his parents and his younger brother Jack.

They always were close and now with him living in Los Angeles for longer periods he wasn't able to be his little brothers shadow, not like he used to. And even with all the friends he had in the business, he felt alone at times. Ben was glad to meet up with those he left back in London, enjoying just being Benjamin Thomas Barnes the guy living in a nice neighbourhood, whose mother was a relationship therapist and whose father was a professor of psychiatry, and not Ben Barnes the actor, that held millions of female hearts in the palm of his hand.

The shrill ringing of the door bell brought him out of his musings, the taxi that would bring him to the airport had arrived. He stood up from the couch, grabbed his luggage and left the condo he called his home in LA. With one last glance Ben closed the door and made his way over to the driver.

Now, home he'd go.

                                                       ~¤~

let me know what you guys think :)

Character Inspirations:

Louise

Jenny

Angela 

Matthew

@a-scrumptiouslywingedstudent

@oliviacah

#ben barnes imagine #ben barnes #original female character #ben barnes story #ben barnes x ofc #pretending? #mywriting #chapter 1

[tenthchildinc]

Love Without A Target When I was a little girl growing up in Tulsa, Oklahoma I lived on a street called Garrison Place. This street was full of neighbors who knew who I was and to whom I belonged. The majority of families was similar to our family by having both parents and at least one daughter in the house. A house with multiple siblings was a plus, especially sisters because that meant that I wouldn’t be asked to leave the boys room, or told not to climb a tree, or host solo tea parties in my room. Daddy was always very protective of me. He always had an eye on who was close, who would walk passed the living room to get to the bathroom near my room (to ensure there were no detours) or even who picked me up as a kid. I can recall people picking me up and shortly being taken from them soon after. I meant everything to him and he meant everything to me, He always wanted a girl. The story goes something like this: When your mother went into labor with you we lost 3 boys and 4 girls prior. When we heard that you were not going to make it I had enough of seeing your mother’s heart break and our expectations crumble. And I knew at some point I would have to make a change in my heart in order for you to live. So I told God that if you would just let this one live that I’ll live… for YOU. So in essence my birthday can be viewed as the day that my father gave his life to Christ and gave me the name Faith. This story has always meant a lot me and to this day even more. Because I was introduced to love that day. A self sacrificing love that I can only equate to Jesus Christ’s love for me. From that day on my Dad would cover me, father me, discipline me, forgive me, shepherd me, and ultimately serve me. He was my miracle predestined. He loved me so much and in return I honored and revered him. I wasn’t the perfect kid, but when I learned how to make him proud it became my discipline. Imagine this…. A boy (my father) created from broken parents, an alcoholic mother and an absent father. Forced to run away with his brother to an older Aunt and Uncle who fathered him to wholeness. He never had a family until he created his own, He worked, provided, and took care of his aunt and uncle until they passed and suffered the loss of seven children. By all intensive purposes there should be no love or faith in God. In fact no faith in people, words, or deeds. But when God blessed my father with the love of his life (my mother), My father knew there had to be God and a plan for his life. My father went on to take on hobbies that treasure life and memories of others. He was an avid artist using pencils and shadowing to create replicas of images. No tracing allowed OH NO! He could see an image in front of him and sketch it to life. I can see him now in his self made studio (our den) with the light on, his glasses to the tip of his nose, music playing leaning into his work on the all white architectural desk. He would moisten the tip of the pencil and smear in features to the face and create dimensions to hair or even patterns on a shirt. He was his happiest when he was doing what he loved in a house with the woman and children he loved. My father was quiet yet friendly. He was loyal. He was a good, good father. And on September 4, 2019 my father became my angel. Since his passing I have struggled with God’s work. Anyone who is feeling this kind of pain can recommend plenty of candidates deserving of death like sex offenders, elder abusers, murderers and so on… I have felt robbed, unimportant, disregarded, and hurt. Why my Daddy, Why my home, Why not 55 years of Marriage, WHY? But then I think of what Daddy is feeling. No pain, No stress, no disappointment, no more goodbyes and FREEDOM from this world into eternity with Jesus Christ. He gets to be the target of God’s love forever!!!! It’s something to envy right? I would not trade his span of life for anything in this world. My father gave my mother and all of us the best he could give. He gave 100% of himself and shared everything with his family. One of the most unselfish men in my lifetime. He was an era. I will forever cherish him. A few years ago I was invited to record a song by Marvin Sapp written by Kirk Franklin that says: How kind of God to think of me To plan each step so patiently To rewrite dreams I thought I’d lost Love on the cross How kind of God How kind of God to bring me pain For there are things in me that pain can change I’m not fond of tears or how much they cost But if the hurt is worth the price for what I lost How kind of God Love on the cross How kind of God How kind of God to think of me To plan my steps so patiently To give me dreams I thought I’d lost Love on the cross, tell How kind of God But if the hurt is worth the price for what I’ve lost Say with me how kind of God How kind of God to think of me Hallelujah To plan my steps so patiently To rewrite dreams To give me dreams I thought I’d lost Love on the cross How kind of You to be A King between two thieves You hung there just for me Love on the cross Cause when You gave Your life You opened up my eyes Cause pain it purifies Love on the cross No greater love for me I’m not what I should be But now I see Love on the cross How kind of God And if the hurt is worth the price for all I’ve lost How kind of God To be considered by God is the opposite of unimportant or forgotten. The more I lean into God to cope with the loss of my father I am reminded more and more how much HE loves me, all of us. This is a season that my father prayed for. He prayed a prayer in my home and as he passed from this life to the next. He prayed that I would feel the love that God has for me and know it/be confident in it to a point of not mistaking it for something else. He prayed that my love would have a target as I learn to live with his absence. Grief = Love without a target My father is with me everywhere I go. My discipline to make him proud is still strong, I am more determine to keep him smiling from Heaven. No wonder this is so hard. My plans, my achievements, my wedding was never without his presence but it was never meant to be currency in exchange for his healing either. You see I made a commitment to God on Sept 4th to live on this side of heaven while he lives on the other side in eternity and so we live…  To anyone who is grieving the loss of a loved one you are not alone. Whether living or deceased, present or absent, sane or mental, just know that nothing about your circumstance is a surprise to God. The more you lean into him the more you will learn God’s character and HIS intent for your life and those you grieve. Their victory may not be your version of victory but nonetheless VICTORY. And if you had to choose suffering or Victory for those you love I’m sure you would choose VICTORY. God will not put anymore on you than you can bare. Seek help, therapy, counseling to make sense of it all… trust me I’m right here with you and it’s helping me cope with recent and past loss. One day at a time and some days one moment at a time…. Your Grace, Your Pace

#grief #tenchildinc #faithanderson #losingmyfather #griefcounseling #dealing with grief #kennethanderson #kf50andcounting #girl dad

[onwesterlywinds]

Nothing to be Feared

Ashe cursed at herself for wearing white. Now that she was in the Undercity with the coat she'd picked out that morning, she felt rather like she was glowing throughout her trek into the waterways; without any indication of who might have been watching her, the sensation was unnerving. Less importantly, she'd already received some sort of grease stain on the front of her coat, and the smear did not inspire any confidence in her own preparedness as she arrived at the proposed meeting place.

She did not have to wait long for Hawthorne, whose arrival was audible only from the barest movement of fabric. The man strode into view straight-backed, with the result that Ashe, not recognizing him in the dim lantern light without his customary slouch, very nearly made to ready her gun.

"Oddly appropriate location," he said by way of greeting. There stood between them an ancient table, perhaps more than six fulms in breadth, and Hawthorne approached it with long and languid strides. "Apologies for asking you to come alone. But - one of us does have a reputation for grandiose... 'retaliation.'"

Already she was uncertain which of them he was referring to.

"And," he continued with a slight nod, "I in particular am not sure how this conversation will go. Good to see you're well, however."

"Why should this conversation go poorly?" She winced slightly at her own tone of voice, at the way its high pitch carried along the brick-lined tunnel. She continued in a whisper, "You said you may have need of a favor?"

His letter hadn't requested a favor outright, but she knew Hawthorne. She knew, too, that she yet owed him much - not only for the role he'd played defending the Undercity during the day of Ala Mhigo's liberation, but for the guidance he'd shown her throughout the past year at the least. "...I wouldn't outright refuse a favor for you, of all people."

Hawthorne gave a slight wave of his hand, coupled with a shrug. "The 'favor' is that we came to talk at all: a request that you pull away from your work and your business and your friends - pleasant as I am to talk to." Before she could compose a response to his sarcasm, he went on, "This is about your new position within Gyr Abania's brand-new circle of representatives. ...So maybe you're not pulling yourself away from work. Regardless, we'll start with a premise: do you know of any men named Lodewijk?"

She mulled the name over but shook her head.

Hawthorne pulled out a chair from the table and invited himself to sit in it. He performed the gesture with such self-certainty that Ashe found herself somewhat in awe: it was as if the scene around them - the dimly-lit nook, the stifled air, the clandestine meeting - molded to him rather than vice versa. He might as well have crafted that table with his own hands. He looked as though he belonged in the Undercity, and she envied him for it.

"Lodewijk Silverbrand," he clarified. "He does not make himself particularly known except to those who garner his attention. And, with everyone and their third cousins axed off at the hands of Ala Mhigo's many pitfalls, that's gotten a bit easier. Which is also particularly why you're talking with me, and not my father. It could well be believed that all the Alliance aether in the air would abysmal for the old man's health." He smiled. It was not quite a kind smile. "Gods know my father's estate was sodden with the air of 'valiant efforts' for several months, after he asked your father over for tea to discuss his actions at the Temple of Rhalgr."

Her gut clenched at the mention of the Fist's destruction. "I take it he wasn't fond of my father." The words felt trite at once. Anyone who remembered twenty-five years of Ala Mhigan history would have great cause to despise the name Riot.

Sure enough, Hawthorne shook his head. "No, no. It's that it's quite difficult to be fond of a man that keeps putting his foot in the family business." He leaned back in his chair and gave a quiet chuckle, counting off on his fingers. "No smuggling - king's orders. No trafficking - king's orders. No substance abuse, no highwaymen, no prostitutes. No downtrodden scavenging their way through life, or unlucky fellows working for the tithe. Though he did thank Ashley for gifting me more free time. And that's mostly what he's seeing now. One Riot, the hand of the King, working to make a more able working class. And now, Riot Junior, the 'spokeswoman for the Undercity', looking to..."

Hawthorne trailed off, raising an eyebrow in her direction as he let the pause linger, and linger it did. Anyone less skilled in the art of enduring difficult conversations might have withered under the weight of that silence. It was a silence fit for the Undercity.

"You are not your father," he said at last.

And thank the gods she was not.

"Can you tell me first what you anticipate to come of shoving the Undercity into the light?"

Even with the full intent of his gaze upon her, she summoned an almost definitive answer. She had prepared it. "I do not seek to bring the Undercity to any public notoriety. However, I wish to ensure that its people are given a voice in the city's future, and that they will be accounted for if the city needs to be defended again. Anyone who knows of the Undercity knows that the moment the Garleans set foot in its cellars was the moment Ala Mhigo was truly lost." She cleared her throat and continued when Hawthorne did not interject. "And in the event that someone seeks to control the Undercity as a tyrant would - as has happened in the past -" It was as direct of a reference as she could make to the things that she had heard from her father about the assassin Blackram - the man who had killed her grandmother. "-council recognition of the Undercity would enable swifter and more direct action to be taken."

Hawthorne only nodded - a simple token of acknowledgement that revealed nothing.  "Well," he said, "that is a venerable cause," He leaned away from the table, twisting his brawny frame to rest an arm against the back of the chair without breaking his eye contact. "And are you equipped to handle any retaliation that may suggest, say, cutting off this den of thieves at its head? Lyse and Raubahn both have hearts that stretch further than their gaze, but I do not expect the citizens of Gyr Abania's townships to want to put in protection for the kind of people that would beat their brothers and toll their caravans. When most people learn about the Undercity... they see it as an invitation to rid their livelihoods of the men and women that tend to cut short a life. Your father, notably." And then he smiled - a dangerous smile, not directed at her or at anything in her vicinity, which made the expression all the more unsettling.

"At the risk of being overly sentimental," she interjected, "what of the countless, untold children for whom the Undercity is the only life they will ever know? Plenty may succeed as cutpurses or even as honorable people in their own right, but-"

Hawthorne cut her off with an exaggerated gasp, lurching forward in his chair so suddenly that she nearly startled. "Children?! I didn't know there were children in the Undercity!"

She continued as though he had not interrupted her. "I am, of course, prepared to defend the Undercity's traditional and varied ways of life as I possibly can. And I have no intentions of becoming its savior in any sense."

"Yes, we all know how the infallible charity of adoption centers and foster homes of the overworld can be. But... I would urge you to work on your rebuttal. I'm not wanting to get into any kind of mock argument with you about how much easier the governing of a new Abania would be, were we rid of all the deceit that goes on only underground, and never in the governing house or the homes of 'good' men. But those whose hearts fill with light are always rapt with retaliations that show only how much they care. For the good men, of course." He cut himself off abruptly, only for a much sterner expression to cross his face. "Tangents aside, I'll move on. And, trust, I do intend to get to the point somewhat quickly. How much of the Undercity then do you know? Do you know the roads? The gates? Family names outside of 'Silverbrand'? Do you know things like the Undercity's cant, or bespeakings of passageways? Or all the little bureaucratic intricacies that dark hearts are obsessed with?"

"I know more of the passages than one might think." How much of it can be attributed to her father, not even she knew, but she could suspect that it was a fair amount. "I know that the magicks binding doors and gates are called sigils, and that their keys are shared either through a spell or a relic or both. I know of the Duskwight clans living in their own caverns and the limestone quarriers and others; I know of the underground market that changes location with each meeting. I don't remember as much of the cant as I used to, though I believe I knew more of it as a child. And I know of some... relatively recent histories. Dark things hidden in the catacombs that my father put to rest. I believe you helped him in that regard, did you not?"

Hawthorne let out a loud laugh - the first thing he'd done to betray the secrecy of the atmosphere that had been lain for their meeting. The laugh echoed, crashing agains the walls and the motley of boxes around them, following into the deep and dark that surrounded them where they sat. "I have never helped Ashley Riot with a thing in his life," he said, still grinning. "And whether or not your old man attests to that, I can promise I will only ever continue to be that proverbial thorn in his side.

"Now, Ashelia, Grand Steward of the reformed and not-aligned-with-the-crown Riskbreakers, helping hand in the liberation of Ala Mhigo, Fiend to the Imperials and Spokeswoman of the Undercity - you're gaining quite a lot of titles, aren't you? - I am going to urge you tonight that you put your best into getting very very good at lying."

The word gnawed at her heart, but Hawthorne continued before she could so much as open her mouth.

"A woman whose soul aches for the many impoverished that exist beneath the salt, but does not know the entryways. The cant, the families. Of course everyone knows Silverbrand, and of course everyone's met one or another soul that's climbed their way out. But in short, however good you get at getting people to believe there is some spark of this world worth saving, the reason we are having this conversation tonight is because my father is quite concerned for the city's safety. Do you understand you are a threat?"

"I understand," she replied, before the word and its possibilities could begin to settle on her. "And I can imagine that it won't be as simple as convincing him of my 'good intentions,' or that I'm nothing to be feared."

"Many people with good intentions fuck it up," Hawthorne pointed out. "I have no belief that you are going to come rushing down, gun in hand, to set a city right after you have gained the trust of any of the suffering. Nor do I believe that you are looking to weave your way into the ranks of politics and 'accidentally' light a fire that would see Ala Mhigo cleansed of every man's suffering. But a smart man puts just as much fear on a crusader with a righteous vision and an axe as he would on a capable young woman who probably has too much experience with deep waters and getting into things over her head."

He smiled at her again - this time an encouraging smile, the sort of smile that made her want to smile back. Before she could do so, it dropped from his face like a hundred-tonze weight.

"What I mean is, should anything happen in the Undercity - even should the Resistance place one foot too far - it would be all too easy to tie it back to you, truthfully or not. A lapse in speech, a political suggestion worded a bit wrong. The wrong person noticing the wrong thing about the girl who wants to save the villains but treads to odd places at night. And then, well... you and I would be having an entirely different kind of conversation about that."

Once again, she could only ponder his words. "I'd like to thank you for your... candor." Perhaps that was the wrong word, given that so much else yet remained for him to divulge. "Given everything you've told me, do you have any recommendations for how I should proceed? Aside from dropping all involvement with the Council and never setting foot in the Undercity again, that is."

Between Gisfrid's reemergence and a thousand other tiny threats, she had too many things clamoring for her attention - too many people asking for her favor with the new government. It had already become exhausting, nigh on overwhelming, and yet she would have to manage so much more of it in the days ahead.

Hawthorne leaned forward again and crossed his arms atop the table. "Steel yourself." He stared up at her. "Not against Garleans or horrors, but against the good-meaning people of Gyr Abania, above and below, who want only to keep their families safe. And maybe, too, against your morals. As I said, there's worth in what you want, and even my father can agree there can be benefits to him as well from this..." His head tilted, like a visual discard of one or several words that he rifled through quite quickly before landing on one. "...new opportunity for the Undercity."

"If-"

"Those we can talk on at a later time. But you will be the subject of no shortage of scrutiny from any angle, and you will need to be ready for what is asked of you. Work on your rebuttals, polish up your lying, pretend you don't know anything; that will put you at a good headstart from both your political opponents and my father's ire. But, do be aware, after all that gets cleaned through, if your head is still where it should be on your person, Lodewijk will also have requests of you and your representative position that will be a lot harder to counterpoint than the ones I am sure you are already receiving. And I suggest you make ready for that, in whatever way you best see fit."

"You're saying I should... act as if I know nothing about the Undercity." The proposal felt counterintuitive, particularly since she was still doing her best to learn more about it day by day; she doubted she could feign ignorance while searching out more answers about the passages beneath Ala Mhigo and those who lived there.

"You cannot accidentally reveal information you do not, figuratively speaking, know. If you are explaining the need of, say, children, to use your example... you hear about them all the time. You have friends who came from that life. You have children at the Sandsea who you have found stranded in the mountains that have such an affinity with locks or a strange way of talking about things. 'But, no Lyse, I do not know what they're saying, or exactly where they were found. The mountains are big, after all, and I grew up in Thanalan.' You know the Undercity is ripe with drug addicts who are looking for recovery because you have met them here in the Ala Mhigan Quarter, and they only want a chance at hope. But, where had they gotten their supply? 'No, I do not know. They are making a strong recovery and it would be unsafe to reopen wounds.'" Hawthorne nodded at the understanding surely dawning on her. "You might get kickback about being a shortsighted upstart who needs to do more research into the causes she's helping, but you can tell them you're guided by your heart and all that flowery, earnest talk they love. After all, you're the one who raced into a fight against Garlemald headlong. I think the image is fitting."

She nodded again. His words offered a reassurance - a tenuous one, but even so. "And as for Lodewijk, I should simply keep to my own business and hope that he does the same?" It felt presumptuous in a way that she was not comfortable with; relying on chance and leaving her wellbeing in another's hands had never been her preferred strategy. Yet perhaps her only other choice would be to launch a full-scale surveillance initiative against one of the most notorious men in the Undercity, and not even she was that reckless. "That should be simple enough." She smiled a little wider, though she could not suppress the barest hint of a smirk. Hawthorne mirrored the expression. "Was that all? I am grateful to you for your guidance, of course, but I was under the impression that you had summoned me here to discuss a way in which I might help you. Unless that's simply by keeping my nose clean."

"That is precisely it. That, and the favor of allowing me to to talk uninterrupted and at length, a task which at least your father loathes." She giggled. "At least, he makes it seem very tasking. If anything my father does needs to concern you, you will be told about it. Otherwise, as everything else, my suggestion for him is that you keep yourself in the dark and remember that I do not have my sister's blessed disconnection from my family. Very many things still reach my ears, though I am just an old and out-of-date man with too many plates in my house and too many adventurers trapping about my ceiling."

"I think you have the perfect amount of plates," she teased.

Hawthorne laughed, and stood in a single movement. "Focus on your politics, and a public image - and the Silverbrand family will continue to see that the Undercity both thrives and serves its own."

Ashe inclined her head in a gesture that was almost a bow, and when she looked up, the former monk was gone. Only once she was back in her house did she start to wonder if she made a mistake in meeting him in the Undercity of all places.

#Ashelia Riot #Hawthorne Silverbrand #Understory

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (11/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part). He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.  

[Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Part 12 ]

Part 11

"That is the most important question," Seffie said excitedly.

"Yes, Seffie, it really is," Gil slurred.

They all stared at him, waiting for the big reveal, but Gil only slumped over, his mouth slightly ajar as he started to snore. Tarvek pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation then smacked Gil's leg hard enough to jolt him awake.

Gil shot upright, blinking around the room before finally squinting at Tarvek.

Barkley stepped between them before any punches were thrown. "Master Gilgamesh, you were about to tell us who poisoned you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Barkley looked at the other children then nodded. "We won't know unless you tell us, correct?"

Gil fell back on the bed again. "When in the den of thieves-"

"Wait," Tarvek said, "are you saying we did this to you?"

"Why would Father poison the Baron's apprentice?" asked Anevka, brow furrowed. "Politically, it would be suicide--the Baron would lock Balan's Gap down hard until they found the culprit. I've seen it happen in other towns for less important people."

Gil rolled to the side, shoulders shaking, and for a moment, Tarvek thought he was going to be sick all over the bed, but then he sat up, giggling.

"No, not you," he told Anevka with that cheesy grin he seemed to think was charming. "You're too nice to poison me." His head whipped around to Tarvek, the smile replaced with a sneer. "Now your brother, on the other hand--he's a duplicitous, treacherous snake so I'd expect that from him."

Tarvek's blood instantly boiled. "Now wait a minute," he shouted, taking two steps towards the bed before both Anevka and Barkley blocked his way. "Why would I poison you?"

"Please, Your Highness," Barkley whispered, "calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down--I've just been accused of a crime in my own house. I will not be calm."

"Tarvek," Anevka said, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. "You did beat him up a few hours ago so it's not too far a stretch-"

"You're taking his side?" His voice came out way too high and screechy. How could she take his side? 

The hurt must have shown all over his face because she dropped her hand and took a step back, but Tarvek didn't want to hear her apologies anymore. He backed out of the room, ignoring her calls then stormed past the Baron's other assistants and out the door of the suite.

People darted out of his path until he suddenly realized there was no one left in the halls. Tarvek glanced around, taking a second to orient himself before turning back the way he'd come, still shaking with anger and betrayal.

That's all Holzfäller was good for--betrayal. If he wasn't the one betraying, he was setting someone else up to do it for him.

"My own sister! I can't believe it." He slumped against the wall. "Of course, I can believe it--she's always up to something." With that thought, he slid to the floor feeling like he'd been run over by a train. An emotional time-bomb of a train set in motion by Holzfäller.

He should have just left him at the table--let him get sick all over Seffie or Cousin Pearl. Should have let him make a big scene in front of the Baron so he'd see exactly the kind of low-brow trash he'd taken pity on with this apprentice charade.

That would have been the smart thing to do, but no, he had to be a nice guy and try to help the idiot when it became obvious he couldn't help himself anymore.

And what do I get in return? Accused of poisoning him at my own table. "The nerve!"

Tarvek sniffed then wiped at his nose, realizing then that he'd been crying. With a sound of disgust, he hopped to his feet and scrubbed his face clean on his sleeve.

He needed to get a grip before someone saw him breaking down over something so stupid as an unfounded accusation by a nobody like Holzfäller. If he cried every time someone said something bad about him, he'd be swimming in his own tears daily.

There was a small voice in the back of his brain that kept whispering that this was different, though, but it wasn't--not in Tarvek's opinion.

"Why would I poison him? It's ridiculous--what do I have to gain?" But that's not the real question, the voice said, now is it? Tarvek frowned at his dirty, scuffed boots, the realization settling heavy on his shoulders.

"No, it really isn't," he mumbled.

* * *

Gil woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and regretting it a moment later when colors popped in his vision while the room swayed dangerously. He fell back with a groan that sounded like a freight train running through his skull.

"I'm gonna be sick," he muttered, a pressure welling from his gut into this chest.

"In the bucket, please," someone said from the other side of the room.

He lifted himself enough to see Barkley sitting on a chair, reading a newspaper in a robe and slippers shaped like bunnies.

"What?" he managed to slur just as the contents of his stomach launched upwards, and he rolled to the edge of the bed where he found a half-full bucket and managed to keep most of the mess inside. When he finished throwing up, he sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

After a moment, Barkley snapped his newspaper shut and got up with a yawn. "I will tell the Baron you are awake--you have twenty minutes to be ready, mind you."

Gil stared blurrily at the ceiling, trying to figure out what Barkley was talking about because his entire head felt wrapped in cotton-wool and filled with molasses so thick even his thoughts were bogged down. He shook his head, trying to clear the haze, but it persisted, and the shaking did nothing for his roiling stomach.

There was one thing he knew, though, if the Baron said he had to be ready in twenty minutes then he better be ready in twenty minutes. Or as ready as he could be, he thought as he dashed into the en suite before he hurled on the carpet.

A few minutes later, he was splashing cold water on his face and taking deep, slow breaths hoping to calm his frazzled nerves. He needed to get a grip--figure out what happened, how to fix it, and be ready in fifteen minutes. Ready for what he wasn't sure yet but he knew it was important.

There was a small spark of sense somewhere in his addled brain that said this was important. Outside the room, he heard the Baron's angry voice getting closer.

He was in so much trouble. Trouble--right! "I'm in trouble," he said to his reflection that stared back with dark circles under his eyes and a busted lip. "This is all Tarvek's fault. That weasel--he drugged me"

His heart rate calmed some once he began to make sense of the garbled memories bouncing around his head. That crazy miniature Smoke Knight of his and the darts--that's why he'd been acting weird. Why he almost let so many things slip.

Things could have gone so much worse if his father hadn't taught him all of those tricks on self-control and resisting tortures. He'd thought his father insane at teaching a ten-year-old to resist torture, but he'd been right after all. Gil wasn't sure what that said about any of them, but at the moment, he was just grateful or he'd be in even more trouble.

With his previous night somewhat sorted out, he quickly washed up and got dressed, finishing the last buttons as the door slammed open to an agitated Barkley followed by the Baron.

"I told him you weren't feeling well, Master Gilgamesh," Barkley said, the words ending with a soft whine.

"You're ill?" his father asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Gil stood up straight despite his sore back and head and shook his head. "Must have been the fish--I feel fine now."

His father studied him longer, probably waiting for him to break into a cold sweat and tell the truth like most people do under his scrutiny, but those were other lessons he'd already subjected Gil to. They stared at each for a long moment until the Baron was satisfied with Gil's apparent truthfulness or just didn't care enough to question them further.

"Let's go then," he said to Gil as he left the room without waiting to see if Gil would follow.

They arrived early to the morning meeting--the conference room was filled with only empty chairs as servants set out pitchers of water at each table.

Gil headed straight for a coffee engine in the corner, eyes nearly bugging out at the complicated yet elegant design as he waited for the server to explain how it worked. The thoughts started as a whisper in the back fo his head, becoming louder and more insistent as the information grew. His heart sped up, breath caught in his chest, heat burned his skin.

He needed to touch it--to take it apart and see how it really worked. Time slowed down the longer he considered the contraption, and it was almost as if he could see right through the steel and glass right down to the molecules that made up each substance--maybe even down to the atoms themselves.

He reached towards what was obviously a misconnected set of regulator tubes when the server smacked his hand away then looked terrified for what she'd just done while Gil just simply stared back at her.

"Ow," was all he could manage to say as the brightness of the engine faded back to reality.

"I'm so sorry," the server whispered, nearly in tears, "it's just it gets really hot."

Gil blinked at her then at the machine and back to her.

The girl--who couldn't be much older than Gil himself was still babbling her apology when an older man in a starched uniform came over. "Is there a problem Arabeth?"

Her lip started to tremble, twisting Gil's stomach into a knot--he remembered that kind of fear; the kind that came from knowing your place in the world meant nothing and your disappearance would mean even less.

"No, no problem," he said before Arabeth could answer.

"She just kindly pointed out the dangers of the machine before I could injure myself." He pointed at his bruised face. "I do have a tendency." He laughed dryly, but the man didn't find him at all funny while Arabeth just bit her lip so hard Gil was afraid she might draw blood.

The man huffed when Gil continued to only smile pleasantly, and he could find no other reason to berate his subordinate. "Very well, then; no dawdling Arabeth."

Gil let out a long breath once the man was gone and leaned against the table--was everyone in this castle so tense all of the time? Not even a military vessel like Castle Wulfenbach was on high alert all of the time.

"Thank you," Arabeth said to her shoes.

Gil shrugged. "I should be thanking you; you just saved me from yet more humiliation at my own hands. I can use all the help I can get."

She finally glanced up at him so he shot her a genuine smile because she was awfully pretty, and he felt connected to her in some small way.

Arabeth blushed so bright and so fast it nearly blinded Gil, and he found himself laughing until she turned away quickly, shoulders slumped then handed him his coffee without looking up.

Crap--he really was bad with girls.

He tried to get her attention again, to apologize for being a complete bonehead, to try to make that connection again, but his father stepped between them to retrieve his own cup of coffee.

"I hope you are planning to be on your best behavior this morning--no more of this tomfoolery with Prince Sturmvoraus."

Gil's mouth tightened into a thin line at the mention of Tarvek and the day before like he could forget even after being drugged which was something he was not going to mention to his father ever.

"The apprentice position is a learning experience more than anything and one of the most important lessons you must learn in politics is dealing with people you find absolutely reprehensible."

Well, he knew Tarvek well enough; Gil only nodded and sipped his coffee.

"Leading is about more than control-"

"Leading isn't about control at all," Gil said suddenly, surprising them both. He groaned inwardly--obviously, he was still feeling the effects of the drugs because never in a million years would he interrupt his father like that and definitely not with something so obviously confrontational.

His father sipped his coffee a moment, eyebrow raised then motioned for Gil to follow him to their seats at the empty head table. "Care to elaborate on your statement?"

Gil swallowed the hot liquid, scalding his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said quickly, feeling his face burn as hot as the coffee.

"No," his father said, "please continue--I'd like to hear your opinion on leadership."

"You would?" Gil could never be sure if his father was serious or testing him in some way that would come back to bite him in the ass or humiliate him or both--usually both.

His father nodded. "Of course."

Gil took a deep breath feeling suddenly very exposed and also five-years-old and terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing. "Well," he finally said, spinning his nearly empty cup between his hands, “a 'leader' by definition doesn't control the people under him. Leaders lead--they guide through their actions and intellect. You're not really much of a leader if the only way you can get anything done is by iron-clad control of wills. That's not a leader--that's a dictator."

He forced his hands to stop shaking and slowly looked up at his father--it wasn't often that he contradicted anything the man said, and he was more than a little scared to find out what would happen, but his father only nodded.

"A very astute observation although there are times when speeches and persuasion can go only so far."

"I suppose that's true," Gil said glumly.

His father squeezed his shoulder. "But a good leader knows when to lead and when to dictate for the greater good, and if you are good at the former than the latter is rarely needed."

A swell of pride Gil had never experienced before nearly overwhelmed his senses as he fought to keep his head on straight and his expression neutral lest his father know how much his approval meant.

[ Part 12 ]

#girl genius #girl genius fanfic #tarvek sturmvoraus #seffie von blitzengaard #anevka sturmvoraus #gilgamesh wulfenbach #klaus wulfenbach #sentences #days 77-84 #story: uncalled for actions

[johnchiarello]

Mark 7

POSTED BY

CCOUTREACH87

⋅ APRIL 16, 2017 ⋅

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MARK 7[Happy Easter to all] 2 Corinthians 5:21 For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations https://youtu.be/zqFdLxeaDtI Mark 7 https://ccoutreach87.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/4-11-17-mark-7.zip https://ccoutreach87.com/4-11-17-mark-7/ ON VIDEO- [I also taught the verses from past Sunday’s Mass- and CCCF] .Honor the heritage of your fathers .Was Jesus forsaken? .Yes .Bishop Mulvey got it right [Pastor Don too] .Wash your hands? .Oral tradition .Not just words .Corban .Primary focus on giving in the N.T. – meeting the needs of community .See the dogs .True apostolic teaching .Polycarp .Easter- resurrection- Good Friday .Some have made it about money [sow your best type thing- and get a harvest]. .It’s not about that- at all [New teaching below] 18 Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers; 19 But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot: Peter-

NEW- Before I get into Mark 7- I want to share an insight I had right before making the video. I was mediating on this verse Exodus 31:17 It is a sign between me and the children of Israel for ever: for in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested, and was refreshed.

As I was thinking about the season we are in [Easter]. I thought ‘how does God rest’. After all- he is God. Never runs out of energy- knows everything- you know- the classic attributes of God. During this time we celebrate the death- and resurrection of Jesus. In is humanity [not deity] he was able to die- to be the sin offering for man. After his death- he was raised. But that’s not all- he ascended into heaven and SAT DOWN on the right hand of God. Yes- he rested. The bible says- Acts 15:18 Known unto God are all his works from the beginning of the world.

In a way- God rested after the creation of the heavens and the earth. Jesus was slain form ‘the foundation of the world’- Revelation 13:8 And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.

Yes- the predestined act of death and resurrection and ascension- already took place- before all things were made. God is outside of time. So Jesus not only experienced the pain and agony- but after the assignment was completed- He rested- at the right hand of God- Hebrews 1:3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high: In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Hebrews 10:12 But this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God; In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

Amen.

NEW [Mark 7] In this chapter Jesus is questioned by the religious leaders- Mark 7:5 Then the Pharisees and scribes asked him, Why walk not thy disciples according to the tradition of the elders, but eat bread with unwashen hands? Now- The Pharisees – with all good conscience- truly believed the Tradition of the Elders was part of authentic worship of God. They believed that God passed down ‘traditions’ given to Moses- that were not contained in the Old Testament. So- the question could have been answered by Jesus simply explaining the difference between the sacred scripture- and tradition. But look at his response- Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. Why so mad? We read that they did lots of other things- beside this- Mark 7:13b and many such like things do ye. The 3 year ministry of Jesus- was not only doing all the miracles- but also perceiving how far the people were from God. And they simply had no idea that they were missing the mark. Jesus teaches his men that true purity is not an outward matter- but one of the heart- Mark 7:15 There is nothing from without a man, that entering into him can defile him: but the things which come out of him, those are they that defile the man. The sins of the flesh proceed from a corrupt heart- the religious leaders managed to purify the outside- but inside were ‘full of dead men’s bones’- Matthew 23:25 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess. Matthew 23:27 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.

He told them that thru their tradition- they actually skirted the real Word of God- Mark 7:9 And he said unto them, Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition. How? God commanded to meet the financial needs of their parents. The ‘tradition’ said- if you dedicate these things to God- the material and financial stuff- then you were ‘free’ from having to take care of your parents- Mark 7:10 For Moses said, Honour thy father and thy mother; and, Whoso curseth father or mother, let him die the death: Mark 7:11 But ye say, If a man shall say to his father or mother, It is Corban, that is to say, a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me; he shall be free. Mark 7:12 And ye suffer him no more to do ought for his father or his mother; Mark 7:13 Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, So- thru their tradition- they disobeyed God’s word. On the video I got into this dynamic a bit more- and talked about how we in our day might be making the same mistake. Many believers give a portion of their income to the church- which is ok. But often times we feel that met our obligation- and if we see a person in need- well ‘we already gave at the office’ type thing. I have written about this dynamic before- and if I can find it I’ll paste it below. We end the chapter with another miraculous healing of a deaf and mute person. Jesus not only taught doctrine- but he demonstrated the compassion of God. He was able to see behind the façade that many had in his day. When we read of the sharp rebukes of Jesus- to seemingly ok questions- it’s because he saw the heart of man. In this chapter Jesus quotes Isaiah- Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. I used to think just the first part was the quote [verse 6]

But I went and read the verse from Isaiah- Isaiah 29:13 Wherefore the Lord said, Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men: He quoted the whole thing. Yes- the prophet of old- by the Spirit- saw the same condition. And when we read the ‘fury’ of an Isaiah- or John the Baptist- or even Jesus. It’s because the Spirit of God was revealing the hidden mystery of sin- John 16:8 And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: The people themselves had no idea how far off the mark they were. And it took this type of ‘radical preaching’ to show them the error of their way- so to speak. VERSES Genesis 2:2 And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Genesis 2:3 And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

PAST POSTS- Below are my past teachings- bible books I quoted on today’s video- and things that relate to today’s post- MARK 7 MARK- https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/02/28/jersey-city-ride-mark-1/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/02/mark-2-north-bergen/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/04/mark-3-isaiah-61/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/14/mark-4/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/27/mark-5/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/04/05/mark-6/ https://ccoutreach87.com/1st-2nd-corinthians/ https://ccoutreach87.com/john-complete-links-added/ https://ccoutreach87.com/galatians-links/ https://ccoutreach87.com/romans-updated-2015/ https://ccoutreach87.com/james-2015/ I talked about New testament giving on today’s video- below are my little books I wrote years ago- they deal with this subject as well- https://ccoutreach87.com/the-great-building-of-god/ https://ccoutreach87.com/house-of-prayer-or-den-of-thieves/ https://ccoutreach87.com/further-talks-on-church-and-ministry/ I mentioned Polycarp on today’s video- below are my past teachings where I mentioned him [see- that’s why you see these sections on the teaching posts] Introduction; Yesterday I took my kids to the mall after church, I usually get lost in the book store. Even though I bought an entire shelf of books a few months back, I still can’t help from buying more books! So I picked up a few more and found a comfortable bench and started reading the History of Christianity. At the house I am almost thru with another ‘history of Christianity’ that covers the story of the church from Pentecost to the present day. I own a few complete volumes and have checked out many from the libraries over the years. I read from both the Protestant and Catholic [Orthodox] perspectives. I also read from the ‘out of the institutional church’ perspective. These are the histories of various groups of believers who never became Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant. I consider all these groups Christian and appreciate the tremendous wealth of knowledge that these communities provide. Now, as we go thru Acts, I want to stay as close as possible to both the doctrine and practices of the early church as seen in scripture. We are not the first [or last!] study that has attempted to do this. That is attempted to ‘get back to the original design’ as much as possible. Historically you have whole categories of believers who fit into this mindset. They are referred to as ‘Restorationist’ as opposed to Catholic, Protestant or Orthodox. The Church of Christ, The Disciples of Christ, the Anabaptists and others fall into this class. I believe you find true believers in all of these groups. As you read the history of Christianity as told by the other perspectives, you will find it interesting as to the way the institutional church describes these ‘out of church’ groups. Some are called heretics [Waldensians] others are simply seen as fringe groups. The strong institutional church has branded those who would reject her authority as schismatics and heretics on the grounds of their refusal to submit to the hierarchy of the institutional church. As we go thru Acts, I want us to read carefully and see the story as told by Luke. We will not find ‘another more true group’ in the sense that I want to start some new denomination. I also don’t want to simply find proof texts to justify doctrine. Many well meaning believers can find the verses they like the most and use them to combat the other points of view. We will see verses emphasizing the importance of water baptism, or various truths on the outworkings of the Spirit. We will see prophets functioning and read texts that clearly teach Gods sovereignty [as many as were ordained unto eternal life believed]. Instead of getting lost on these side trails, I want us to read with an open mind and allow our beliefs to be shaped by ‘the story’. I will spend time defending my own view of Local church. Not because I believe ‘my view’ is the only thing worth arguing about, but because I believe we see the intent of God for his people to be a living community of believers in this book. Right off the bat we will see giving taught in a radical way. The early church at Jerusalem will ‘continue in the Apostles doctrine and breaking of bread and prayers’. They then sell their goods and distribute to all who had need. Where in the world did they get this idea from? The Apostles doctrine obviously taught the plain teachings from Jesus on sharing what you have with others. So instead of seeing an early tithe concept, you see an early ‘give to those in need idea’ straight from the teachings of Jesus. We will see this early Jerusalem group meet daily, as opposed to seeing ‘Sunday worship’ as some sort of New Testament Sabbath. Of course this group will meet at the Temple [actually an out door courtyard called Solomon’s Porch] and from ‘house to house’. But the simple realty of Christ’s Spirit being poured out on them as a community of people will be the basic understanding of what ‘church’ is. You will find citizens of many surrounding areas going back to the their home towns after Pentecost. These believers shared the gospel with those in their regions and this is how the early church would spread. Some commentaries will show you how when Paul will eventually show up in Rome there already was an established church there. They obviously heard the gospel from these early Roman Jews who were at Jerusalem during Pentecost. So we will see ‘church planting’ from the paradigm of simple believers going to areas with the message of Christ. Those who would believe in these locations would be described as ‘the church at Corinth’ or ‘the church at Ephesus’ and so on. So we see ‘local church’ as communities of believers living in different localities. We will see the development of leadership along the lines of ‘appoint elders in every city’. Not a top heavy idea of ‘Bishop’ in the later sense of Catholic belief, but a simple ordaining [recognizing!] of those in the various cities who were stable enough in the basic truths of the gospel, that in Paul’s absence these elders were to be trusted as spiritual guides. Now, many of our brothers can trace the historic office of Bishop as a fairly early development in church history. Polycarp and others were considered direct disciples of the Apostles who would be seen as Bishops and even write of the importance of Bishops for the church ‘Where there is no Bishop there is no church’. This will cause many well meaning believers to eventually become Catholic/Orthodox as they read the church fathers and see the very early development of Catholic Christianity. In many of the church fathers writings you will also see an early belief in the Eucharist as being the actual Body and Blood of Jesus. To the consternation of many Protestants you even find Luther condemning fellow Protestants for not taking literally the words of Jesus ‘this IS my Body’. Now, I will not defend transubstantiation, but try to follow the trend lines in Acts as to the lack of this doctrine being a part of the early church. We will find Paul’s letter to the Corinthians addressing the Lords Supper, but for the most part we do not see a strong belief in the transmitting of divine grace to the soul thru the eating of Christ’s literal Body and Blood as they ‘broke bread’. We do see the sharing of the common meal and the ‘Eucharist’ as one meal called the ‘love feast’. Only later on in church history is there a division made between the full fellowship meal and the Eucharist. So to be frank about it, I will challenge both our Catholic and Orthodox brothers on some very fundamental beliefs. Well I hope this brief introduction sets the proper tone for the rest of this study, God bless you guys and I hope you get something out of it. John. [parts]

Mark 7:1 Then came together unto him the Pharisees, and certain of the scribes, which came from Jerusalem. Mark 7:2 And when they saw some of his disciples eat bread with defiled, that is to say, with unwashen, hands, they found fault. Mark 7:3 For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, except they wash their hands oft, eat not, holding the tradition of the elders. Mark 7:4 And when they come from the market, except they wash, they eat not. And many other things there be, which they have received to hold, as the washing of cups, and pots, brasen vessels, and of tables. Mark 7:5 Then the Pharisees and scribes asked him, Why walk not thy disciples according to the tradition of the elders, but eat bread with unwashen hands? Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. Mark 7:8 For laying aside the commandment of God, ye hold the tradition of men, as the washing of pots and cups: and many other such like things ye do. Mark 7:9 And he said unto them, Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition. Mark 7:10 For Moses said, Honour thy father and thy mother; and, Whoso curseth father or mother, let him die the death: Mark 7:11 But ye say, If a man shall say to his father or mother, It is Corban, that is to say, a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me; he shall be free. Mark 7:12 And ye suffer him no more to do ought for his father or his mother; Mark 7:13 Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered: and many such like things do ye. Mark 7:14 And when he had called all the people unto him, he said unto them, Hearken unto me every one of you, and understand: Mark 7:15 There is nothing from without a man, that entering into him can defile him: but the things which come out of him, those are they that defile the man. Mark 7:16 If any man have ears to hear, let him hear. Mark 7:17 And when he was entered into the house from the people, his disciples asked him concerning the parable. Mark 7:18 And he saith unto them, Are ye so without understanding also? Do ye not perceive, that whatsoever thing from without entereth into the man, it cannot defile him; Mark 7:19 Because it entereth not into his heart, but into the belly, and goeth out into the draught, purging all meats? Mark 7:20 And he said, That which cometh out of the man, that defileth the man. Mark 7:21 For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, Mark 7:22 Thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness: Mark 7:23 All these evil things come from within, and defile the man. Mark 7:24 And from thence he arose, and went into the borders of Tyre and Sidon, and entered into an house, and would have no man know it: but he could not be hid. Mark 7:25 For a certain woman, whose young daughter had an unclean spirit, heard of him, and came and fell at his feet: Mark 7:26 The woman was a Greek, a Syrophenician by nation; and she besought him that he would cast forth the devil out of her daughter. Mark 7:27 But Jesus said unto her, Let the children first be filled: for it is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it unto the dogs. Mark 7:28 And she answered and said unto him, Yes, Lord: yet the dogs under the table eat of the children’s crumbs. Mark 7:29 And he said unto her, For this saying go thy way; the devil is gone out of thy daughter. Mark 7:30 And when she was come to her house, she found the devil gone out, and her daughter laid upon the bed. Mark 7:31 And again, departing from the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, he came unto the sea of Galilee, through the midst of the coasts of Decapolis. Mark 7:32 And they bring unto him one that was deaf, and had an impediment in his speech; and they beseech him to put his hand upon him. Mark 7:33 And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit, and touched his tongue; Mark 7:34 And looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened. Mark 7:35 And straightway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain. Mark 7:36 And he charged them that they should tell no man: but the more he charged them, so much the more a great deal they published it; Mark 7:37 And were beyond measure astonished, saying, He hath done all things well: he maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak. 7 Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. 8 And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: 9 Of sin, because they believe not on me; 10 Of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more; 11 Of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged. 12 I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now. 13 Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will shew you things to come. 1Corinthians 15:1 Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand; 1Corinthians 15:2 By which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. 1Corinthians 15:3 For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; 1Corinthians 15:4 And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures: James 1:27 Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Psalm 110:1 The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my righthand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations 41 While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them, 42 Saying, What think ye of Christ? whose son is he? They say unto him, The son of David. 43 He saith unto them, How then doth David in spirit call him Lord, saying, 44 The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool? 45 If David then call him Lord, how is he his son? 46 And no man was able to answer him a word, neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions. Matt. 22 2 Timothy 4:6 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

http://www.corpuschristioutreachministries.blogspot.com https://www.facebook.com/john.chiarello.5?ref=bookmarks https://ccoutreach87.wordpress.com/ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZ4GsqTEVWRm0HxQTLsifvg

https://plus.google.com/108013627259688810902/posts https://vimeo.com/user37400385 john chiarelloFollow On https://www.linkedin.com/home?trk=hb_logo http://johnchiarello.tumblr.com/ http://ccoutreach.over-blog.com/ Note- Please do me a favor, those who read/like the posts- re-post them on other sites as well as the site you read them on- Thanks- John.#

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[leonbloder]

Reflections on Holy Tuesday

Today is Holy Tuesday in Holy Week---a day which has also been called Fig Tuesday because of the passages of Scripture that mark this particular holy day in the historic Church.

The reference to figs comes from two different passages in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark.  I'll paraphrase, mainly using Mark's account.  

After Palm Sunday, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem with his disciples after hanging out with friends in Bethany, when he approaches a fig tree and finds no fruit on it, and then inexplicably curses the tree by saying:

“May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” (Mark 11:14, NIV)

Mark's account is careful to say that it wasn't the season for figs, which makes Jesus' cursing of the tree all the more curious.  

Then Jesus and the disciples head to the Temple, where Jesus literally turned the tables on the religious leaders of his day by dumping the tables of the money-changers and the sellers of doves and then driving them out with a whip.

This spectacle would have been a welcome sight for the poor who were coming to the Temple for Passover.  They would have first had to change their money into Tyrolian shekels (with a change fee), and all they would have been able to afford as a sacrifice would have been doves.  

As you can imagine this did not sit well with the religious leaders, priestly types, and other assorted grumblers, and lovers of the status quo.  

The next morning (Tuesday), on their way back to Bethany, Jesus and his disciples pass the fig tree that was cursed the day before, and it has withered and died.  When Peter points this out, Jesus launches into a lesson about faith, repentance, and forgiveness.  

This pericope in Mark's Gospel has occupied scholars for years, and there's been a lot of ink spilled in trying to interpret it.  Here's my take, though:

I am of the opinion that Jesus wanted to teach his followers about how religious institutions can lose their way when they grow to care more about an air of religiosity, always being right, and maintaining outward appearances of piety than they do about having a right relationship with God and others.

The great English theologian, Archbishop William Temple once wrote:

It is a great mistake to think that God is chiefly interested in religion.

Sadly, this is the kind of mistake that people have been making for centuries.  It's the mistake that Jesus was pointing out to his followers with the miracle of the fig tree. His point was when you lose your way, it doesn't take long before things start to wither and die.

The Temple had become a money-making enterprise that benefited an elite group of people who used religion as a mask to hide their true intentions.  Jesus' made it impossible for them to ignore him after he cleared the Temple courtyard, and declared it his "Father's house," and not "a den of thieves."

Holy Tuesday offers us a reminder that our religion isn't nearly as important as our relationships.  

If we want to be the kind of people who live fully into the Great Commandment that Jesus proclaimed (Love God, and Love Everybody), then we need to get back to basics.  

Spend this week thinking about ways that you can strengthen your relationship with God through prayer, meditation, worship, and devotion.  

And then realize that the natural next step is to also strengthen your relationships with others through generosity, peacemaking, grace-giving, and unconditional love.  

May it be so for you today and every day from this day.  And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.  

[dailydj]

Psalm 15: Evocations

LORD, who may dwell in your sacred tent? Who may live on your holy mountain?

Like a giant cloth iceberg, the tabernacle juts above a sea of tan Israelite tents. Off in the distance, there, can you see it? The faint outline of Mount Sinai, out on the hazy desert horizon, where they say God’s glory burns more brightly than the sun. Just entering either of these spaces for a brief moment is a nerve-wracking, death-defying experience. No one would ever dream of trying to stay for longer than a few minutes, let alone try to live there.

Aaron, the high priest, was packing up his things and getting ready to go home for the night, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of candlelight in the Holy of Holies, the center room of the tabernacle. Cautiously, Aaron crept back into the tent, and he noticed the shadow of a man was cast upon the dividing curtain of the holy place. The man was sitting and praying, and then he began to laugh, rising to his feet and swaying to and fro, dancing with complete, pure enjoyment and freedom. "Who’s there?” shouted Aaron. A great wind blew through the tabernacle, the candlelight was extinguished, and the tent fell into silence and darkness.

The one whose walk is blameless, who does what is righteous.

He’s talking to a sick old woman, touches her, and life and health immediately spread across her entire body. He is settling an argument between feuding Pharisees and commoners, and standing up for the oppressed. He’s standing before a crowd of thousands, speaking words of such resounding truth and inspiration that the people are enraptured, unable to turn away.

Who speaks the truth from their heart.

“Truly I tell you,” declares Jesus, “Unless you give up all that you have, to follow me, you will never inherit the Kingdom of God”. The rich young ruler falls to his knees, distraught, conflicted, torn apart inside. Jesus’ look of compassion is warm and sincere, but also firm, decided, and His message is clear: what He’s asking for is hard, but undeniably true.

Whose tongue utters no slander.

Jesus pulls a coin from his pocket, and tosses it to the two old Jewish men smirking at Him from the front of the crowd. “Tell me, whose face is inscribed on that coin?” he asks.

“Caesar’s,” replies the Pharisee.

“Then give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and give unto God what is God’s,” answers Jesus.

Who does no wrong to a neighbor, who casts no slur on others.

Jesus was tired. His cousin had just died, beheaded at the hands of a foolish king. He couldn’t help feeling the tug of guilt, couldn’t help but wonder, if John hadn’t been out there stirring people up about Him, the coming Messiah...would he still be alive? There was so much suffering, so much evil and hatred and cynicism here...humanity had grown to be so broken, and it broke Jesus’ heart. He needed some time away, just to spend with His Father, to be reassured of why He was sent here. The bottom of the boat scraped land, and Jesus stepped out into the shallow water. He settled on a rock, sitting cross-legged, watching the sun drift lazily towards the horizon, and let out a huge sigh of relief. Jesus closed his eyes, and murmured, “Father, I —”

“THERE HE IS!” came a shout from the bushes behind him. Suddenly, the undergrowth was rustling with the sounds of dozens of people, eagerly wading their way through the trees and shrubs to swarm towards Jesus. A woman carrying her baby had cuts on her arms, where tree branches had scraped them, but was nearly in tears of joy and ecstasy as she ran down the beach towards Jesus. Two sons panted as they stepped out from among the trees, the older one carrying their ailing father on his back. They smiled at one another, bumped fists, then made their way down the sand with their father between their shoulders. A familiar voice cut through the noise and excitement, as one young man shoved people out of the way to sprint down the beach. “Jesus!” yelled Peter, flailing his arms wildly to get his attention. He ran up to Jesus’ rock, gasping for air. “Phew...aah, I’m so sorry man, I really tried to stop them, but they’re relentless!”

Jesus smiled. “It’s okay,” He said. “Let them come.”

Who despises a vile person.

“You snakes!” He screamed. “You filthy thieves!” He grabbed a man by the shoulders and flung him into a table of birdcages, sending a cloud of money and doves floating up into the air. “What have you people done!” He roared, “This is my Father’s house! But you…” He towered over a quivering salesman, who was still clutching a purse of money tightly to his chest, as if it would protect him from this raving lunatic. “You have made it into a den of fucking robbers!”

But honors those who fear the Lord.

Jesus smiled, watching His friends toss food into each others’ mouths across the table. Quietly, He got up, took off His shirt, and tied a towel around His waist. He tapped Peter on the shoulder, who was trying to see if he could fit a whole apple into his mouth. “Hrnghhff?” asked Peter, who turned and saw Jesus, then immediately started choking and spitting out his food. “Jesus!” he angrily whispered, “What’re you doing, where are your clothes??”

“Your sandals, please.”

“My...what? What are you doing?”

Horrified, Peter watched as Jesus took Peter’s feet in His gentle hands, and began washing off the dirt caked between Peter’s toes, stuck to his soles, under the nails. The disciples looked on in awe and wonder.

Who keeps an oath even when it hurts, and does not change their mind.

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew never forgot those words, as long as he lived.

Who lends money to the poor without interest.

Peter said, “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give to you.” The crowd gasped as the lame man rose to his feet. Dang, that sounded good, thought Peter. I feel like I remember Jesus saying that somewhere before.

Who does not accept a bribe against the innocent.

Jesus stood on the hill outside Jerusalem, gazing at the tiny people milling about, pondering to Himself. I might be able to help them, He thought. I could write new laws, which treat all people with perfect justice. I could reorganize their economy, so that everyone has enough to eat. We could raise a military, conquer neighboring territories little by little, and invite everyone into a great new empire. I’d be ruler over them all, a beautiful, perfect Kingdom. And it wouldn’t be so hard; all I’d have to do is just…

Jesus stopped, laughed to Himself, and said, “It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’ Thanks for the offer, Satan, but I think I’m good.”

Whoever does these things will never be shaken.

Drip, drip, drip. Blood plinked out a slow rhythm as it slid down the bridge of His nose, into a small puddle forming at the base of the wooden cross. Stabs of pain shot up Jesus’ feet as He pushed himself up to draw a ragged, desperate breath.

Curse him, whispered a voice in His ear. He has abandoned You, He does not care for You any longer. Why should you remain faithful to Him now?

Jesus lifted Himself for another breath, shuddering as the pain tore through His body again.

He is disgusted with You. You have made Yourself hideous in His sight. Surely His favor has departed from You. Curse Him, and worship me instead, Son of God. I can end Your suffering, all You have to do is one little thing.

Jesus said nothing, simply heaving Himself up once more for another breath. This went on for several hours more, just the tempter and Jesus, breathing, hurting, dying.

#Psalms #Jesus #story #bible

[scribeoftamriel]

Sundas, 24th of Last Seed

I’M IN MY HOUSE! MY OWN HOUSE! I OWN A HOUSE!

I’ve lost count of how many bottles I’ve kicked back, but I didn’t go too crazy because I don’t want to wake up in my own house tomorrow for the first time with a hangover.

Today felt like it lasted forever, but we didn’t really do much. We got out of Swindler’s Den at first light, and by then the dragon had moved on. We were moving so slowly because of all the loot we were carrying that it took us until midafternoon to get back to Whiterun.

It was raining for the first half of our walk back, and we got so cold that I had to light a fire so we could warm up once it stopped. I’m so glad I know Flames – I’d hate having to try to light one with a flint in the rain. I would have gone back into Fort Greymoor for shelter, but there were already more bandits on the walls when we passed by and I just wasn’t feeling like fighting them.

And saber cats are TERRIFYING. Lydia didn’t seem to care that a cat the size of a bull with teeth like my forearms was trying to eat us (of course). She says they’re pretty common here. Seriously, Skyrim, why are you so full of dangerous things? I don’t know if I would have come here if I knew how cold and full of things that can murder people you were. And Lydia just acts like its normal! She rushed right at it and started hacking away, and when I suggested maybe running away next time, she said that you usually can’t outrun them, so you turn and fight.

This explains so much about Nords.

We also ran into another thief on the road, right where we saw the old one on our way back from Fort Greymoor! The first thief’s body was STILL IN THE ROAD. If I were a thief, I would avoid places with dead thieves laying around. Maybe also stick to ambushing people rather than running straight at them in the middle of the road with your weapons out. Just an idea. They weren’t a problem for us, even with all of our stuff weighing us down, so we just added their goods to our load.

Lucky for us, Warmaiden’s is right by the entrance, so I was able to sell most of what we had right there. I also stepped inside to use her enchanting table. I’d learned a bit about enchanting back at the Capitol, but I’ve never been able to use a table and actually learn the spells. It hurt to destroy those magic items, but I learned:

Fortify Magicka Regneration and Health Fortify Restoration and Destruction Damage Magicka Regenerate Magicka Shock Damage

While we were there, Adrienne asked me to deliver a sword she had made as a gift for the Jarl to her father. Figured why not? She’s so kind to let me use her forge and enchanting table, and she’s a busy lady. It’s the least I can do.

We went back to the Bannered Mare to give Sadia the news that the assassins were dead. She said she’ll stay here for a while, and gave me 500 gold! Not much compared to what I made from selling all off the gear we took, but I’m not going to complain!

I still had more to sell, so we went to Belethor’s (ugh) and met Sigurd, his assistant. Sigurd seems nice, and isn’t a creep like Belethor. I bet he’d get more business if he let Sigurd work the counter!

I went to Dragonsreach to give Proventus the sword for the Jarl, and he gave me 20 gold for my trouble. I was counting what we had on our way out, and we were so close to 5000 that I went back to Belethor’s and sold pretty much everything we weren’t wearing, but WE DID IT!

And then I BOUGHT THE HOUSE! It’s called Breezehome, and while it looks small on the outside, it’s quite spacious! I haven’t bought any furniture yet, but there was a locked room off the main one that turned out to be a bedroom with a bed in it, so I lucked out there.

I am SO EXCITED! I can’t wait to get some more gold and get some real furniture in here. I saw Danica sitting on a bench in the square looking kind of mopey about the tree, but there’s that old lady in town looking for her son. Lydia said that hagravens are horrible bird-ladies that are also witches?

I don’t think I’m tough enough to take on a bunch of bird witches, and Lydia doesn’t have any protections against magic, so we’ll probably go help the old lady find her son tomorrow. Maybe I can get some more spellbooks to learn from or get Lydia better armor if we can get enough gold before we take on the hagravens.

But that’s for later. Right now, I’m going to sleep in MY BED, in MY HOUSE, and get some rest before tomorrow.

#tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #skyrim spoilers #writing #fiction #rpg #gaming #videogames #journal #gamingjournal #whiterun #breezehome