#the man not only promising a place where he will be understood (like Benedict offers) but also a place he won’t ever have to leave

[laniidae-passerine]

someone give Seth Carr an Emmy he’s killing it in this role he’s just amazing as Sticky

#the nuance!!! this kid is a talent he’s amazing #I genuinely love the way he portrays Sticky as both so complicatedly involved in helping Curtain’s evil schemes which is so wrong #and yet utterly understandable as a kid gravitating to the first person showing him affection #the man not only promising a place where he will be understood (like Benedict offers) but also a place he won’t ever have to leave #somewhere permanent; somewhere he’s always going to be wanted and loved #Benedict sent him away on a mission and asked him to change his morals but! oh Curtain just wants loyalty - a quality he praises in Sticky #Curtain offers a place to stay offers him a father who wants him who admires him who actually believes in him (or so he feigns) #no leaving. no rejection. no hiding in grandfather clocks only to hear that you were never really wanted #the mysterious benedict society #mysterious benedict society #seth carr #sticky washington #the fact that I can extrapolate all this! from his acting?!!! FANTASTIC the kid is superb #tmbs #mbs

[stuckybarton]

Manifestation of A Happy Ending

SUMMARY: "Everyone deserves a happy ending, even you."

CHARACTERS: Stephen Strange x Reader;

WARNINGS: Brief Description of Child Birth.

WORDS: 2,022

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

~

Part 5 CANDLELIGHT

One of the few things you had learned since your past and your present had collided was the world was constantly moving. Everyone would try to move on, try to better themselves. A process the might look painful on one end, and easy for some. You had it easy. Having Stephen by your side all throughout was good, being able to find the good in the world in him, in your relationship and eventual marriage as well as the child you were carrying.

Things has been going well and you found yourself visiting the compound more on a regular basis now with Stephen constantly by your side. His sling ring a good tool to use to avoid dealing with New York traffic. Being able to reconnect with your friends had been hard at first having ghosted them for a hefty amount of time, but things had been good, especially with everyone just as excited about the baby coming in a few more months.

"Have you found out about the gender?" Nat had inquired as soon as you had arrived into the common room, your husband and Wong was dealing with a mission briefing with Steve and Tony while you waited.

"Not yet." You smiled at your friend before rubbing your growing bump. Sitting by the window with your friend, it was still weird for you to come back here, knowing everything that had happened. The way you just left and never looked back. "We still haven't decided if we're going to wait until the baby is born."

Nat smiled, asking your permission, had placed her hand against your stomach. The light thump had made the two of you jump, your baby's first kick.

"Still can't convince you to name the baby Natalie?" She teased making your burst out laughing.

"Tell that to Wanda and Thor, they're already bribing me with naming the baby after them too." You giggled remembering the multiple of times you had to deal with the two when you visit. "But I'll think about it." You assured knowing the name you had in mind would sound good with a second name added to it.

"We're not mad at you for what happened, Y/N." Nat had spoke all of a sudden, surprising you with the shift of your conversation. "We're surprised that everything happened the way that it did, but we understand why you did what you had to do."

You were left in silence, it was still something you tried your best to keep to yourself. A resentment they might have towards you because of your choice, how you turned your back on all of them when your relationship with Tony ended.

Before Nat could continue on with her words, FRIDAY had called for her to the briefing as well.

"We'll talk later, I'll find someone to keep you company for a while." Nat has said with a smile leaving you all alone to your own thoughts.

It would take a while to come to terms with your choice, but as long as you had Stephen and the baby, you had nothing more you had to worry about. Rubbing your stomach again, the thump had made you smile as you started to hum against the air, hoping to calm your restless baby.

Your eyes lingered onto the windows, the well manicured lawn and the vast land of the compound. You had remembered the time where you would sit in the middle of the grass, soaking into the sunlight after being in the confinement of your former room for days on end.

"I hope I am not intruding."

Turning your head away from the window, the sight of Loki had surprised you. For the most part, you had known about the team's hesitation towards the reformed God, and the other part of you still wary of him after the last time you've seen him in person--when he and his brother had made their way to Stephen's sanctum hoping to find you. The words that he spoke that became the push you needed to this life you now live.

"No you're not, Loki." You assured the God as he has come to approach you. "How's your stay since I've last seen you?" You inquired the man.

Unlike everyone in the team, you didn't have the same resentment towards the man--knowing from Thor what had happened to him, what he had to do to survive, you try your best not to put it against him if you could. And he is a good company to have while you do your research for your book.

"I'm afraid I've lost my library companion." He responded, a ghost of a smile resting on his face. "And I think an apology is long overdue after what I've said."

One brow rose waiting for him to continue his words.

"What I had called you in Strange's Sanctum is uncalled for and I never got the chance to apologize to you."

So he did know you were in the Sanctum. Blinking you didn't really know what to say.

"Why didn't you tell Thor or Tony?" You found yourself asking after a moment.

"What for? If you truly want to be found, you wouldn't have hidden, in such a poor excuse of curtains of all things. And I do not believe that you would be happy with Stark in the long run."

"So you're favoring Stephen over Tony?" You smiled knowing the vendetta still placed on Stephen's back for what he did to Loki all those years before.

"I have said no such thing." He brushed off finally sitting besides you on the couch. "But you're more tolerable compared to the rest of the people in this compound, so your happiness is something I'd champion for."

The biggest compliment you had received from Loki and somehow you find yourself blushing at it. You held onto the man's hand.

"I think I might just name my baby after you, Loki." You teased. "Is this your plan all along?"

"Is it working?" He smirked right back, mischief twinkling his eyes.

"You have Nat, Wanda, and your brother to fight for that right." You pointed out giggling at the antics that Loki was slowly showcasing you. A rare sight as the man chooses to keep to himself most of the time. "Want to feel the baby?" You offered looking up at the man.

"Are you sure?" The man sounded so uncertain and for a while you understood where he was coming from but knowing him, knowing he wouldn't hurt you, it doesn't sound too bad to have him feel the baby too.

Hand still holding onto his own, you placed his palm on top of your stomach. Smiling as soon as his palm rested, a sudden kick had made the two of your jump for a moment. Giving him a side glance, an amazed look that rested on his face placed you more at ease.

"They like you." You pointed out with a smile.

"A mistake they'd made before they're even born." Loki muttered pulling away.

"Loki--" You warned. "You don't contradict a pregnant woman." You warned with a pointed look now focus on him. A sheepish smile now resting on his face because of it.

Before Loki could further contradict himself, the sound of a few voices approaching had the two of you looking up and the sight of your husband and Wong coming to pick you up. But the sight of Tony and Steve also with them, the smile on your face had fallen. So much for trying to avoid the man.

"Hands off the wife, Laufeyson." Your husband warned, but you rolled your eyes and smiled towards the also much annoyed Loki.

"Loki's been keeping me company." You pointed out finally standing up and approaching your husband in the process.

"Fifty bucks he's also trying to convince you to name the baby after him."

"Keep your money to yourself, Strange." You snorted wrapping an arm around his waist. You smiled beamingly at your husband before winking knowingly at Loki and the conversation they had would only be theirs to keep from now on. "Loki's been nothing but nice to me and I'm staring to like the idea of Baby Loki."

At the grimace your husband had on you couldn't help but burst into as loud fits of laughter.  Resting your head against his chest, try as the man could, it was still hard for him to keep his emotions and his sass in check. You were fine with it, happy for his antics from time to time when he wasn't getting on your nerves.

"We'll talk about our child's life choices if you do that when we get home." He muttered cradling your head as you pull back to look at him. "Say goodbye to your friend before we go."

You smiled hugging Loki, taking the man by surprise before promising to catch up with Steve if Stephen ever stops by the compound again. But for a fraction of a second, you found your attention towards Tony, the longing look on his face as he looked at you and it scared you so much. You know you wouldn't leave Stephen, after everything you had been through, but it was just sad to see the playboy so broken--because of you.

"Bye, Tony." You finally whispered before joining your husband and Wong through the portal to bring you right home to the Sanctum.

~

"Benedict Vincent Strange."

The name had escaped your lips as soon as the baby was born. The past thirteen hours, Stephan had been besides himself. Everything he had learned from Med School was thrown in the trash when it comes to you. The doctors had tried their best to stay as far away from him while making sure you were well accommodated.

And everything was worth it as he now held on to his son. A blend of you and him. 

Even as the past few hours had been you sobbing to the high heavens while you pushed for the baby out while you pray for their safety. Stephen was relieved to know you and the baby were safe and healthy judging from the lungs capable of screaming up a storm from the both of you. The smile had somehow found their way onto his face.

He had watched the doctors begin to clean up his son before turning his attention back to you. Leaning back against the bed, even with the fatigue and pain still painting your face, you still had this big smile watching from the sides as the nurses swaddle your son.

"He's got your eyes." Stephen pointed out with a smirk and you were quick to roll your eyes. It was just a fun little debate the two of you had while you prepared for the baby, how such discussion span and become so meaningless as all the mattered was this very sight.

A life he never thought he would be allowed to have in his life. After everything he had done--the mistake he had made, he was still allowed to have his own happy ending in the form of you who had almost fallen face first in front of him in the cafe.

"Do you ever regret it?" Stephen asked after a moment of silence passed between the two of you. "Leaving Tony behind for someone like me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Stephen." You smiled holding onto his hands, pulling him closer to where you laid to rest. "I've got everything I could have ever wanted in my life. A decent man that loves me more than the whole multiverse combined. I've got a child that I will give my life and soul to protect and love."

It was the truth, and the smile that lingered on his face made everything alright now. There would come a time that his life would be put on the line for the sake of the world, but it was alright. It was for you and it was for your son. His own little manifestation of a happy ending.

He would want nothing more in his life.

Tagging:

Stephen Strange One-Shot / Series

@secretsthathauntus @delightfulheartdream @d0ct0rstrangewife @gumgum78 @supervengerslock @inas-thing

Everything~

@wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @star017 @silverrmistt @broadwaybabe18

#Stephen Strange Series #stephen strange imagine #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange Imagines #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #Manifestation of A Happy Ending Series #Stephen Strange Angst #Stephen Strange Fluff

[inkformyblood]

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’

#codyweek2021 #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #clone medic helix #my writing

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 31

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 30

Next Chapter: Chapter 32

Warning: this is a heavier chapter, dealing with some self decrepetating thoughts, not suicidal thoughts but somewhat similar

‘And what do you have to offer?’ the thief asked.

Part of Alastair still couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. He’d summoned the thief of souls and could make a deal with him. Alastair wasn’t like Benedict or Tatiana, he wouldn’t kill another person, not even for Thomas. But he still had plenty to offer.

‘Myself,’ Alastair said. ‘In exchange for the life of Thomas Lightwood. He’ll live, and you can take me instead.’

‘Not much faith in your friends, I see,’ the thief said. ‘Not even in that little witch? I must admit I had not expected her, I do tend to lose track of my children, I thought Tessa had died. I had no idea Tessa had a daughter who’d inherited her gifts.’

They should have succeeded already, and if they hadn’t that meant Thomas was about to die. Realistically, there was no reason to have faith, which meant now was the time for more drastic measures. With Cordelia probably dead and Thomas soon to follow, what was there for him anyway? At least Thomas still had his family. Thomas could love again.

‘They have failed. So now it is up to me. My soul, in exchange for Thomas.’

The thief laughed. It was an odd sort of laugh, not quite like the evil laughter you saw in movies but unsettling still. ‘And why would I take such a deal?’

‘You know about my memory,’ Alastair said evenly.

‘Ah, yes. I admit you would make an interesting addition. A broken soul with a magic memory. I’ve never heard of such a power before. Thomas’ sight makes him valuable, of course, but I might not find a soul quite like yours ever again. It is a tempting offer.’

A broken soul with a magic memory. He guessed that was what he was. Too broken, perhaps, to be happy. He’d thought with Thomas he could find another way. But if Thomas died, what would be the point? It would be a blow from which he could never recover.

He wished it didn’t have to come to this, he wished the two of them could have a future together. But some things just weren’t meant to be and if either of them should get to live, it was Thomas.

‘Precisely,’ Alastair said. ‘It is a good trade, isn’t it? I don’t ask for power, or magic, or anything. All I want is that Thomas recovers and lives.’

The thief eyed him curiously. ‘You’d sacrifice yourself for him. Why?’

‘Because I love him. Because as you said, I am a broken soul,’ Alastair said. ‘I have no interest in living in a world where I couldn’t save him. So instead I’m here, offering myself.’

The thief put up an arm, gesturing as he spoke. ‘You could easily offer another. There are all kinds of souls I am interested in.’

‘I would not become a murderer for him. My own soul is what I have to offer. Nothing else.’

The thief seemed confused by his statement. How many would make the same choice, he wondered. It couldn’t be that uncommon, to love another enough to be willing to make such a trade, right? Whereas only the worst of people would kill to get what they want.

‘Alright,’ the thief said. ‘Amuse me. I will take your soul to my world, separated from your body but not quite dead. From there you have two options. You can find your way out of my realm. Your soul will be reunited with your body as long as it still lives, the deal will be off and Thomas is mine to claim.’

A way out, that was good, he guessed. If Cordelia and Lucie miraculously succeeded, they might still save him if his body was not yet dead. It would be up to them now. Perhaps there was still hope. Realistically, Alastair knew Thomas was not literally all he had, and that there were still a few people who would miss him. He also knew there was no way he’d survive without him. He was already so broken, Thomas’ death would be more than he could take. How had Lucie survived after losing Jesse? She’d been so young. Alastair remembered Cordelia would spend days, weeks, months with her, comforting her friend. He knew Cordelia would do the same for him. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, if she was even alive. Alastair had to face the truth, she probably wasn’t.

‘But if you wish to save your love, you must find him in my realm. His body is here, alive, but most of his soul is with me already, enough for him to have formed here. That’s why you cannot wake him. If you kiss his soul on the lips, he’ll be saved and you will die.

And if you fail at both, if after twenty four hours you have not found your love and still reside in my realm, you are both mine and will both die.’

It was a risk. Alastair had seen the thief’s realm in Barbara’s memory, it might not be easy to find Thomas. But he would be able to find his way around there, and he had some ideas of where Thomas might go. It was worth a try.

‘I accept to your terms,’ Alastair said.

‘Good. Now, sealing the deal requires another kiss.’

Alastair made face. ‘You mean you want me to kiss you?’

The thief laughed. The sound chilled him to the bone. ‘No. I mean your twenty four hours will start once you kiss your Thomas. You have until midnight, if you do not kiss him before then the deal is off. I suggest you make your peace, write a note to your family. After all, you won’t ever see them again.’

Alastair felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach. The thief was right. He would never see Cordelia again. Never meet the baby, never make his peace, he would never recover from everything he’d been through. This was it, this was where he would die. For Thomas, it was worth it, but Alastair wished it could be different.

He quickly wrote a note for Cordelia, in case she was still alive and would find him. No, he couldn’t let himself think that. Cordelia couldn’t be dead. His mother should have at least one child alive, one of them should get to go home to her and meet the baby and live. Someone would read the note, if not Cordelia herself. He left the note outside near the circle, kept in place underneath a rock, and then he wrote another note. This one for Thomas, who would wake up within the next twenty four hours and find Alastair dead. Alastair gently put it under Thomas’ pillow, and then sat down on the bed next to him. He knew Thomas was far away and couldn’t hear him, but Alastair spoke to him anyway.

‘I’m so sorry, Tom,’ Alastair said. ‘But there’s only one way to save you now. And I will. I promised I won’t let you die, and it’s a promise I intend to keep. You’ll survive, and I know it’ll be hard at first. I know losing me is like nothing you ever experienced, I know you’ll miss me and I’m sorry I have to put you through that. But you’ll find happiness again, I’m sure of it. You’ll heal, and you’ll go on with your life and when the time is right you’ll find another man, someone who can love you better than I ever could. Please don’t hold back for my sake. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I really should have known this was the best I could do for you.’

Alastair was crying, and he desperately tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. He wanted so badly to be with Thomas, to have him here alive and well, and give him everything he could. He wanted to go to museums with him and he wanted Thomas to meet his family, and eventually the baby. He’d envisioned a future for them, something that could never be.

Alastair gently stroke Thomas’ cheek. Part of him wanted to lie down here, crawl into Thomas’ arms before kissing him. It would be cruel, to let Thomas wake up next to his dead body, but as per the thief’s term, there was no other way, he’d die right here in this room. But perhaps Thomas would want to hold him as he died. It was the way Alastair wanted to go, that he was sure of. He’d gone so long without receiving the affection he craved, if he died he wished to at least be in Thomas’ arms.

It felt wrong, to kiss him without asking, but it was the only way to save his life. In the end, Alastair settled beside Thomas, holding his hand. He knew it was selfish to want to die close to Thomas, their hands intertwined. He leaned over and quickly kissed Thomas on the lips. It felt like falling, falling into the nothing until he awoke in the dark realm of the thief of souls.

***

Cordelia didn’t know what to do anymore. Her brother was still breathing, he had a pulse but both were so weak. He was in a deep sleep and no one could wake either of them up. In Thomas’ case, she understood it was because of what Tatiana was doing. He would die tonight, if Tatiana succeeded. Cordelia didn’t quite understand why she hadn’t before. Unless Alastair had interfered somehow. Was that even possible?

‘What have you done, Alastair joon?’ she asked him, tears in her eyes.

‘They’re still not awake, are they?’

Cordelia didn’t recognize the girl who entered the room. She looked Indian, she guessed, Cordelia didn’t think she was related to the Lightwoods.

‘I’m Kamala,’ she said. ‘Genie asked me if I could try to heal them.’

‘Genie?’ Cordelia asked, a little confused with what was going on.

‘Thomas’ sister Eugenia. We arrived last afternoon. Your brother was still awake back then. Can I try if there’s anything I can do? I admit it’s unlikely, but the least I could do is try. My gift is minor, you see, I mainly heal injuries. I doubt I’ll wake him up.’

‘No, go ahead,’ Cordelia said. ‘It’s worth a shot.’

Kamala touched Alastair’s cheek first, holding her hand there for a while. Then Thomas’.

‘His pulse picked up,’ Kamala said. ‘Thomas is the same, Alastair seems a little improved? But still in coma, so it’s probably not helpful. I’m sorry.’

Cordelia nodded. Kamala had done the best she could. None of them understood what had happened to Alastair. Kamala walked out, but Cordelia remained in the room, holding Alastair’s free hand. Perhaps Jem would know what was wrong with him, she thought, as she saw her cousin walk in.

‘Cordelia, Lucie found something you should see,’ he said in a calm but pained tone.

Cordelia knew whatever Lucie had found, it wasn’t good news. She sat down as Lucie handed her a note, holding her hand. ‘I didn’t read it,’ Lucie promised. ‘But I found it outside, hidden underneath a stone, in a drawn circle…’

‘Alastair, what did you do?’ she whispered.

Cordelia opened the letter, hoping she would find something reassuring there. Hoping it said Alastair was going to be alright and would just be sleeping for a little while. Foolish, she knew, but hope played wicked games with the mind.

Dear Cordelia,

I know while I’m writing this you’re probably already dead. But still I write, because even with a minor chance that you’re alive, I wanted to explain to you what happened. And I thought, maybe your ghost would visit, and wish to read my last words. Either way, there are some things I wanted you to know.

It has been too long since I heard from you, and if you’re still alive I know you have not succeeded in stopping Tatiana. That means Thomas would die at midnight, unless someone else intervened. So I did.

I summoned the thief of souls. I know what you’re going to say, but I firmly believe it was the right choice. He offered me a deal, I can go into his realm as a soul, and search for Thomas. If I escape his realm, I survive and Thomas dies, but if I find and kiss Thomas within the timeframe he has given me, I will take his place and die and Thomas will live. There’s a chance that I fail and we both die, but I’m trying not to think about that. I won’t fail Thomas, I will find him. Perhaps, if you and Lucie kill the thief before our agreement is fulfilled, we can both survive. I am not counting on it. But if you see this, hurry and you might still save me.

I am sorry to leave you alone, assuming of course you will ever see this letter. I want you to know this is not what I wanted. I know you worry about me hurting myself, but I assure you I did not make this choice because I wanted to end my life. Rather, I wanted Thomas to live, and this is the best I can do for him. I know it will hurt him to lose me, but I’m afraid there is no other way now.

I wanted you to know, that I do love you. For years, you were my reason to live. I know I haven’t always been the best brother to you, and for that I am sorry. I still find it difficult to tell you how I feel, even in a letter you may very well never read. But you must know that without you, I likely would not have survived until now and for that I am grateful. What would be the point?

I love you, Layla, and I’m begging you to live. I know losing me will be hard, but maman and the baby will need you. I love them both very much, please tell them that, alright?

Love

Alastair

Cordelia read the letter a second time, a third, to try and find a hint that it wasn’t real, that Alastair could wake up any moment now. Then she burst into tears. Alastair had sacrificed himself for Thomas, given his life. He’d been under the impression that she was dead, even if he’d still written this letter just in case she’d make it back.

He was going to die. Unless Cordelia saved him before his deal ended. She put her hand on her necklace. With cortana, she would slay the thief of souls. She would not allow him to take her brother away from her. He should get to go home, he should get to meet the baby. He claimed it wasn’t what he wanted, and Cordelia believed this wasn’t a suicide attempt, but it wasn’t the choice a healthy person would make, was it?

It frightened her to know Alastair would trade away his life, his soul, for Thomas. She knew he would do the same for her, but Cordelia would never want that. She was fairly certain Thomas didn’t either.

Cordelia found a clean paper tissue somewhere and dried her tears. She would find him. She and Lucie would go into the realm of the thief of souls, kill the thief and bring back Alastair and Thomas. She would destroy him for taking her brother.

She understood now why Jesse had not come to life last night, why Thomas still lived. For what it was worth, Alastair’s sacrifice had saved Thomas, at least for another day. From the contents of Alastair’s letter, she presumed both their souls were in his realm while there bodies lived. That’s why they couldn’t wake up.

She returned to the living room of the cottage, which had become entirely too crowded.

Gideon had returned, his arm encased in a cast. Kamala was next to him, touching his arm, a concentrated look on her face. Cordelia realized she must be trying to heal him, or at least speed up the process. Gideon looked exhausted.

Thomas’ sisters were beside him and the oldest turned her attention to Cordelia. ‘My mother told me what you can do. Is there anything left we can do to save Tommy?’

‘I think so,’ Cordelia said. She would have to explain then, what Alastair had done. What she and Lucie would have to do. ‘Alastair has made a deal with the thief of souls. Something that presumably saved Thomas last night. He traded away his own soul, and had twenty four hours to find Thomas in the land of the thief of souls and wake him. If he fails, they’ll both die. But there’s another option, which is that Lucie and I enter this realm and kill the thief of souls before the deal is done. Alastair and Thomas are both still alive for now. I think taking back their souls will save them. But we don’t have much time. Lucie and I have to go.’

***

Alastair appeared in a palace. It wasn’t the same as the ruins in the woods. Admittedly, this one was more to his taste. It was built in an ancient Greece inspired style. Pillars decorated with ionic curls, and an open garden in the middle of the house.

‘Do you like it?’ a man asked.

He didn’t look like the thief as he’d appeared in his circle, but from his voice Alastair recognized him. A shapeshifter, of course he was. That’s why Tessa had inherited that power from him.

‘This will be your home after all,’ the thief continued, shifting in yet another form, a handsome brown haired young man wearing a roman style toga. ‘It doesn’t have to be so bad, you know. I know it looks rather horrifying out there. So many lost, hopeless souls. Many of them have their use and give me power, but are not particularly useful people. Some are pretty enough to look at and get to work around me. Only a few are like you. That memory ability is why I wanted you, of course, but you’re clever and cunning. I know you think the way I do. If you do well, you could even become my second in command.’

Alastair didn’t think he had any interest in being a personal assistant or even second in command to the thief. But if Lucie and Cordelia failed, if they were already dead or failed to slay the thief, Alastair would do it. He could be patient, he could be clever. He could get close enough to the thief to destroy him. He didn’t care how long it would take.

‘You will be summoned back here once you free your love,’ the thief said. ‘Permanently dead, that is. You may still feel a sliver of a connection to your body for now, feel free to ignore that. It will be gone soon enough. Good luck, Alastair Carstairs, for my realm is vast and Thomas Lightwood is free to dwell wherever he wishes. Or perhaps it’s best to leave him be for now. Why save him, when you can keep him here with you forever? If you proof to be a good assistant, you could keep him here with you in the palace. You could be together, forever. Or you could set him free and never see him again. Your choice.’

‘I will find him,’ Alastair said, turning his back on the thief and the palace and entering the vast woods.

It looked a bit different here from where he’d previously entered, the forest was dense and mostly consisted of pine trees. He couldn’t say he understood exactly how this realm was layered over the realm world, Alastair suspected it was smaller, and consisted mostly of forest where the souls wandered.

He thought of the comment the thief had made, and Alastair hated to admit he pictured what it would be like in his head. Stay there with Thomas. It would not be much, not until they destroyed the thief together, but it could be something, and they would be together. But Alastair would not do such a thing. He’d come here to save Thomas’ life, and he would. Even if it meant they would never see each other again.

He wondered if he should explain it all to Thomas, and let him choose what he wanted. Perhaps he’d urge Alastair to find the exit, and help him go home. Perhaps he’d choose to stay together. But Thomas was young and in love and he would make the wrong choice. If he stayed with Alastair, he would never see his parents or sisters again, he would lose everything. If he left, he’d only lose Alastair, and in time he’d realize Alastair had not been his life after all, and he could love another. It was selfish to wish for them to stay together, and Alastair refused to be that selfish. Thomas would live, it was the only possible outcome.

***

Thomas wasn’t so sure who he was anymore. He knew his name. Thomas Gabriel Lightwood. He repeated it to himself. Thomas Gabriel Lightwood, that was his name. He was fairly certain Gabriel came from his uncle, although he could not remember who this man was, could not picture his face in his head. He had parents, that he could be sure of.

Thomas wandered aimlessly through a pine forest. Where was he, anyway? What was this place? He felt like he should know, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was frustrating. There were more people around here, and Thomas decided to ask a woman.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

The woman stared at him blankly, then turned around and walked away. That wasn’t helpful. He tried with a few more souls. Some gave him a name, others walked away. Some even pretended they did not hear him at all. Perhaps they really didn’t.

Thomas closed his eyes. There had to be someone he remembered. Deep in his memories he found a man in his forties. Green eyes. Light brown hair, or was it dark blonde? The doubt about the hair color sparked a memory.

‘Dad has blonde hair,’ a round faced girl of about eight or nine years old said.

A smaller girl disagreed. ‘No, it’s brown. Are you blind? It’s clearly brown.’

The two girls resembled each other. Both had brown hair, darker than the father they were discussing, who sat on the couch with them, laughing at the argument his daughters were having. Thomas had been very small then, nothing like he was now. He’d walked to the couch and pulled at the man’s leg. His father, he realized. He had a father and two sisters.

His father picked him up and Thomas crawled into his lap. He was fairly sure his hair was brown, just a few shades lighter than Thomas’ own brown hair. His father put his hand against Thomas’ small forehead.

‘You’re burning up, Tommy. I think you have a fever again.’

‘Don’t wanna go back to bed,’ Thomas protested. ‘Not tired.’

Even at this young age of three, he’d learned that when he had a fever, he would have to go to bed and rest. But Thomas didn’t want to rest, he wanted to play with his new airplane toy.

‘Sophie, can you get the thermometer?’ his father asked.

A little later, he saw his mother, the familiar scar on her cheek comforting.

‘Hold still, Tom,’ she said as she put the thermometer in his ear.

He struggled against the grip, but his father held him until his mother was done taking his temperature.

‘You’ve got a fever again,’ his mother said. ‘I’ll call the doctor. A child shouldn’t be ill this frequent, right?’

‘Don’t wanna go to the doctor,’ Thomas protested.

‘You’re going to be alright, Tommy,’ his father said gently. ‘Your mother and I will come with you, there’s no need to be scared. We will always be there for you.’

Thomas realized the memory had been years ago, when he was about three or four. He had parents who loved him very much. Two sisters who were protective of him. He had a family he needed to return to, but Thomas had no idea where they were or how to find them.

He remembered someone else. A girl with brown hair and blue eyes who was excitedly telling him about this new book series she’d started. It was a about a land with witches where people had all sorts of powers called witcheries. The main character could discern lies from truth and was sought after because she was the only one who could and fleeing from an arranged marriage to an emperor. Her best friend was a threadwitch and she was this girl’s favorite. Although her powers were not quite the same as the other threadwitches. Thomas could not quite remember what the differences were. Then there was a windwitch prince from a small, starving kingdom who’d agreed to help the two girls, and a bloodwitch who hunted them. The girl was a writer herself, Thomas realized, and she was a dear friend. He’d ended up reading the series she’d recommended, and then had to wait for a long time for the next book.

Then he remembered a boy with a deep golden brown skin and dark eyes and hair. Thomas couldn’t quite tell who he was, but he had to be the most beautiful man Thomas had ever seen. He’d been angry and bitter once, Thomas remembered, although he wasn’t sure why. Then he’d been tired and sad. Lately, he’d been happy too though, at least sometimes. Thomas secretly hoped he had something to do with that. He felt this boy was important to him, and he needed to make sure he was alright. He couldn’t do that from here.

Trying to orientate himself, Thomas kept walking. He needed to find people he remembered. He needed to find his mother and father, who undoubtedly worried for him. He needed to find his sisters, because even if they would stuff him back in bed and shove a thermometer into his ear, Thomas remembered he loved them. He needed to find the girl with the blue eyes, because Thomas knew she was his friend, even if he didn’t remembered her beyond that. And he needed to find that dark haired boy, who wasn’t alright, and might never be. But Thomas would be there, to help him through it, to help him find happiness. He needed to go home. The memories, he hoped, would follow.

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

[anjuschiffer]

A Day in the Life of a Todd

More self-indulging writing... a follow up to A Parent’s Misadventures

Enjoy :D

------

P. Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak

------

AO3

------

“Hey Olwin.” Bridgette started, carefully approaching the boy. It’s been a solid month since the incident, the tension between the two five year olds cooling down.

“What do you want, Bridge?” Olwin said, Bridgette frowning at the name.

“Well, I was going to invite over to my house, but-”

“Your house?” Olwin repeated, once overhearing their classmates say that no one knew where she lived. No one was ever invited over. 

If he accepted this offer, he’d be the first and he’d know where she lives!

“Yup.” Bridgette said, popping the ‘p. 

By inviting him over, Bridgette hoped to become friends with him, seeing that they got off at the wrong foot… or at least that’s how her Maman put it. But putting Maman’s advice aside, she did want to be friends with him from the start. After all, he did have a dog! Dogs are the best!

“I guess I can come over.”

“You’re going to love it!” Bridgette said with a toothy grin, going back to play with the other girls in her class, bouncing with glee as she counted the hours until she could tell her mother the news.

----

“Please behave yourself Olwin.” His mother said, eyeing the black car in which Bridgette was bouncing in, a giant grin on her face. “Please.”

She did not, did not, want a repeat of what happened a month ago.

Hearing her little boy get punched by a girl was not what she wanted to be called for during the middle of a board meeting. Luckily her boss understood, Mr.Drake-Wayne giving her the rest of the day off to deal with the situation. 

“I will Mother.” Olwin reassured, letting himself get fuzzed over by his mother, blushing when he watched Bridgette’s mother giggle.

“I’ll promise to bring him back safely Ms. Roswald.” Marinette said with a reassuring smile. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Olwin bid his mother goodbye, walking stiffly to the car, watching Bridgette squeal and move from the window, noticing another boy in the backseat when he opened the door.

“And who’s that?” Olwin asked, pointing to the other boy, getting into the car and closing the door behind him. He watched as Bridgette hugged the other boy, the boy letting out a squeak.

“He’s my best friend Evan!” Bridgette said, squeezing Evan even more. Evan whispered a ‘hi’ before Bridgette continued to talk. “I can’t wait to get home!” Turning to her mother, Bridgette let out an even bigger smile. “Maman, is it true Grandpa Bruce and Mama Selina are going to be home?”

“If what your uncle told me is correct information, then yes, Grandpa Bruce is going to be there as well as Mama Selina.” Bridgette let out a deafening squeal as the car pulled out of the driveway, going onto an hour long talk about her grandparents and family. Olwin absorbed each word, staring at her wide-eyed as she talked about her family.

From what he could tell, her mother was the only child in her family, raised in France by her parents. Her Grandmere was of chinese descent while her Grandpere was born in Paris. So that explained why Bridgette spoke French and partially understood Madarin. But Bridgette’s dad… he had six other siblings? Or was it seven? And they all apparently got together well? 

Hell, Olwin didn’t get along with his older sister, imagine five other siblings of all different ages!

“We’re here kids.” Marinette said as she pulled up to the gates of what Olwin could describe as a very big castle. This is where Bridgette lived?! 

He simply watched in awe as the car made its way to the main entrance, realising that even when he looked directly up, he couldn’t capture the entire height of the structure.

“Now remember Bridgette,” Marinette started, helping the children out of the car. “I don’t want you guys playing fetch in the manor. I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time

“I didn’t even start it.” Bridgette defended. “Uncle Damian did.”

“Bridgette.”

“But he did!”

“You have a dog?” Olwin decided to ask, regretting it when he saw Bridgette light up like a Christmas tree.

“Not one! I have-” Bridgette was cut off when the group heard multiple dogs bark, Olwin deciding to hide behind Marinette at that moment, realizing Evan didn’t do the same thing.

Soon, a pack of giant dogs came running towards the two, Olwin wondering why she wasn’t hiding for dear life.

“Bunny! Rosey! Donut! Gerald! Titania! Pegasus! Bernie!” She exclaimed, opening her arms to embrace the pack, giggling as they all licked her, falling onto the ground, dragging Evan down with her. She was then picked up with a tanned man, whose green eyes felt like they can see right through you. “Uncle Damian!”

“Cathy. It’s been a while.” Damian said, placing her over his shoulders. Cathy? Didn’t he know the name of his own niece?

“It’s only been a week!” Bridgette giggled, watching as her pack tried to pull her back down. Wait, she was Cathy? Must be her middle name then.

“Ti-tania. Down.” Damian grunted, feeling the pressure all the dogs were putting on him, but mainly Titania the Great Dane’s. “Marinette, it’s been a while.”

“It’s good to be home.” She said, smiling at him. It was then that Damian noticed the child hiding behind her. 

“I see that it runs in the family.” Damian said, walking up to Marinette to get a closer look at the child. He chuckled when he saw a pout form on her face.

Evan. He had already met Evan. The small child still had his short brown hair, having grown a few inches since the last time they’ve met. His own hazel eyes studied him as well, getting distracted by the dogs licking his face. But the other child… he was new...

“I thought that was your thing. Yours and Jon, that is.” Marinette teased, smirking when she heard him grumble something under his breath.

“I guess it’s only genetic.” Damian played along, gesturing to the new kid. “So who’s the other blue-eyed child belong to?”

“Damian, this is Bridgette’s classmate.”

“He’s a friend Maman.” She corrected.

“I see.” Damian spoke, putting Bridgette down, the pack quickly going back to surrounding the poor child. “Bunny. Rosey. Donut. Gerald. Titania. Pegasus. Bernie. Sit.” On command, the seven dogs sat, their tails still wagging with glee.

“They were just happy to see me.” Bridgette pouted, petting each dog’s head. Damian ruffled her hair before crouching to get a better look at the new child.

“So what’s your name?” Damian asked, enjoying the fact that Olwin squirmed under his gaze.

“Olwin, sir. Olwin Benedict.”

“Olwin.” Damian tested, looking over his shoulder before looking at Olwin. “Do you like dogs?”

“I do. I also have one at home.”

“What breed?”

“A Border Collie.”

“Name?”

“Cole.”

“I see.” Damian got up and walked away, standing a few meters away from the group. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” With that, he left, leaving the group by themselves.

“Well then, let’s go inside, unless the three of you prefer to stay outside.”

“Outside!” Bridgette proclaimed. “Bunny, Rosey, Donut, Gerald, Titania, Pegasus and Bernie need to play before we go inside!”

“Alright! But if anything happens, just shout okay?”

“Okay!” Bridgette said, turning to her two friends. “Come one guys! Let’s play fetch with them!” With that, she ran towards the side of the house, four of the dogs running after her. Two remained by Evan to receive more cuddles while one of them, a doberman, stayed to look at Olwin with round eyes.

Olwin stiffened when the dog circled around him, nudging him at his back and hands before sitting in front of him, letting out a huff.

“Bunny thinks you're a good person for Bridgette.” Evan spoke up, patting the two dogs beside him - a Great Dane and Pitbull. “If Bunny approves of you, then Donut and Titania here will accept you, as well as the rest of the pack.”

“I-Is that so?” Olwin said, watching Bunny’s ears perk up, her tail wagging when Bridgette came back into view.”

“Come on! I already have the dog toys out!”

“Coming!” The two boys shouted, watching Bunny, Donut and Titania run to their owner.

As Olwin ran to his classmate, he wondered what other things awaited him that day.

-----

“So how was your playdate with Bridgette?” Olwin’s mother asked as she tucked him into bed. Olwin simply processed the question as he recalled what he did at Bridgette’s weekend home.

Oh god. Where should he start?

The fact that Bridgette lived in a mansion? The Wayne Manor his parents praised to no end, the manor in which his parents’ boss lived? As in, Mr.Drake himself?

The fact that she had seven large dogs named Bunny, Rosey, Donut, Gerald, Titania, Pegasus and Bernie? The fact that they were a Doberman, Rottweiler, Pitbull, German Shepherd, Great Dane, Boxer and St.Bernard respectively?

The fact that her family were a chaotic mess?

That her Uncle Richard greeted the children from the chandelier of the main hall, jumping off of it and landing without a single injury? (He claimed to be playing hide-n-seek with his own child, Olwin wondering why he would hide there of all places. A kid wouldn’t even think of searching up there. Sure think about hiding there, but never search there themselves.)

That playing hide-n-seek with her Aunt Babs was futile, the woman knowing where the three hid together despite not moving an inch from her spot? (Yes, she was in a wheelchair, but that’s what made it even more terrifying.) It was worse when Aunt Cass joined in and scared the soul out of Olwin, wondering why Evan and Bridgette weren’t terrified for a single second.

Lunch was normal, taking away the large assortment of food and almost-food fight that occurred. Or rather, it turned for the wrong. 

Uncle Richard and his wife had asked Bridgette if she was planning on going to Paris during summer vacation. When Bridgette had asked her father to stay with Grandpa Bruce, a fight broke among the family as to who was going to take Bridgette first, all of them agreeing that Bruce was going to bore her to death.

Said man was not happy to hear that, Mama Selina smiling at his dilemma.

Aunt Babs had called dibs, stating she had promised the girl to teach her coding when Uncle Richard exclaimed that Bridgette would get bored and would have fun at his place with his daughter, her cousin. (Olwin met the older cousin, Mari, a girl Olwin couldn’t quite understand due to having the same bubbly personality as her mother, Aunt Kori.)

Aunt Cass spoke how Bridgette should come over to her home, promising her to teach her some new tricks. (“Cass,” her father spoke, bringing his hands together. “I can only handle one of you. Please don’t turn my daughter into another you.” “Deal with it.”)

The bickering went on and somehow led to Uncle Tim joining in and Uncle Damian having to start a fight among the siblings. 

Food flung across the dining hall, Bridgette’s mother and the aunts having to pull the children away from the eye of the storm, Mama Selina joining them for tea in the kitchen. 

At one point they heard gunshots, causing everyone to run to the scene of the crime where Grandpa Bruce also held something resembling a firearm. 

That’s where Olwin learned that her aunt and cousin could float and had actual super powers. 

The two separated the men from killing each other, the two husbands getting scolded by their wives while another aunt came in and started to scold Uncle Damian and Uncle Tim. Olwin had heard Bridgette call her Aunt Steph.

It was then that the group decided to settle who should take care of Bridgette over the summer with a sword fight, which ended in Uncle Damian winning. 

The man grinned as he pinned Bridgette’s father under his foot, putting his sword away as he was crowned winner. 

Olwin would’ve never challenged the man, but Bridgette sure did and almost won, still smiling as she was lifted back to her two feet. 

What kind of family was this?!

Oh! How could Olwin forget about the intruder that snuck into the manor?

When the family realized that the pack of dogs started to surround them, the siblings all got their guards up, telling Bridgette’s mother and grandparents to watch over them as they scattered from the dining hall, each running into different directions. 

Olwin clung onto Marinette’s sleeve, hearing reassuring whispers, looking over to see how Evan and Bridgette were handling it. Evan was quietly sitting by Mama Selina, enjoying a story she told him while Bridgette stared at the kitchen doors. 

With a single look to her mother, she let out a whistle, her dogs lining up in front of her. 

She crouched down and whispered something to them, Olwin watching as the dogs let out a ‘woof’ in agreement and also scattered. 

Turns out that Bridgette had sent them to find each family that ran off, each returning with one member and an extra. 

Turns out that the intruder wasn’t an intruder, but the husband of Uncle Damian who had forgotten his keys. (Uncle Jon, he remembered Bridgette squealing with glee when she saw him.) Also, why was his shirt sleeves ripped to shreds while he remained unharmed?

The family started to scold the poor man, Bridgette’s mother quickly changing the subject to dessert. 

A homemade opera cake - A Dupain-Cheng delicacy, as Uncle Tim and Uncle Damian said in unison, both pushing to get the largest slice. 

The evening ended with the family leaving one by one, Evan being dropped off to his home by Mama Selina while Olwin was dropped off by Bridgette’s mother. 

He felt sad to leave without bidding Bridgette goodbye, but he also knew it wasn’t a good idea to wake up Bridgette for such a thing. 

Also, the fact that her dogs were surrounding her didn’t make him rethink his decision. 

“Olwin, did something happen over at Bridgette’s home? Oh god! Do I-”

“It was fun.” Olwin said, his mother realizing the smile he had on his face, calming her down. “It was amazing! I can’t wait to go back!”

And he really meant it. 

He couldn't believe he had such an amazing friend!

#maribat #bridgette todd #bridgette just wants to make friends #oc: olwin roswald #oc: evan johnson #bridgette is also an oc... #anju writes

[charmingmarchioness]

Cherishing the LOVE

The land of Leidenscaftlic is always the liveliest and the busiest among the continent. Joyful chatterings and laughters filled the slightly dim sky and crowds are gathering from store to store. It wasn't an unusual sight to see but among those crowds who were patiently waiting for the intercontinental train to arrive lies a man named Gilbert Bougainvillea.

From the way he looks, it seems like he just got free from doing bunch of works in the military headquarters. He was actually the one who dazzlingly stood out the most, not because of the fact that it was a rare sight to see a busy man like him go out in such an early hour, but because of what he is currently holding. It was a bouquet of Violet flowers. The crowds easily understood that he was there to wait for his beloved sweetheart.

After minutes of waiting, the train have finally arrived. A woman with a hypnotizing angelic beauty came out from it. It was Violet Evergarden, a well renowned celebrity in the auto memories doll service. She searched the whole place until she spotted who she was looking for. Blue orbs and emerald are locked to each other once again. Out of excitement and longing, Violet and Gilbert ran to each other's arm and hugged deeply, obviously not caring for the people who were staring at them.

Once they were satisfied feeling each other's warmth, they broke away the hug. A lovely blushing smile crept to Violet's face when Gilbert kissed her gloved prosthetic hand once again. The reaction that she showed him now is a pleased one. It was different from the time where she shed tears out of happiness. Gilbert also treasured that day, because that was the day where Violet finally understood and accepted his love for her.

Gilbert adored the figure of his lover. Just uttering the word 'Lover' makes his heart burst in so much love for her. Finally. It wasn't a one sided love anymore. The two was finally able to have a strong and deep connection called 'Love'.

"I miss you, Major. Do you...miss me too?" Violet uttered shyly and it made Gilbert chuckled a little because of her cute remark.

"Always, Violet. I miss you terribly."

He clutched her fingers with his as he honestly stared into her eyes. Gilbert affectionately offered her the bouquet of flowers that he almost forgot to give. He merely rejoiced when she gladly accepted it.

"Welcome back, my love."

A boisterous red haired man named Hodgins was currently scouting an entire town to find a good place to eat along with Lux, Cattleya, and Benedict.

Today is a wondrous day to be free from the tiresome reality of being a working adult. A beautiful festivity was currently being held at a certain part of Leiden and it was to commemorate the unwavering bravery of those people who fought their love against the odds. There was once a tell tale story that illustrated the forbidden love between a lost human and a fallen goddess. In short, it was a festivity of a bond called LOVE.

"Old man! Just where the hell are you taking us? We've been walking for hours already!" Benedict shouted as he was unable to calm his irritated self  anymore.

"I agree. If this is a silly prank or just a revenge for not siding with your wrongdoings, then, I suggest that you stop being involved in a scandal." Lux retorted tiredly.

"President~ Let's go there! There! And there! Whoa, there too! Come on~" Cattleya said while tugging his shirt with brutal force.

"Wait Cattleya! Ack- Don't pull too hard! And ya' rude boy! Just be patient. We are almost there. Ah, little lux, don't give me such a scary expression, your cute features is getting uglier."

"YOU STUPID OLD M--mmm!!!" Hodgins immediately covered Benedict's mouth when he spotted an unexpected figure that is a little far away from them. As he keeps on struggling, Hodgins let out a sigh and uttered a "Sshhh", pointed his finger at two people who is blissfully dancing among the other lively pairs.

"Is that Violet? I thought she'll be returning tomorrow? Hmm...and the man beside her is-"

"Kyaa~ are they having a date? Oh, how romantic!~" clutching her chest dreamily.

"---a hell! Why's there another old man! I must save Vi! V--mmm" Hodgins covered his mouth once again and forcefully dragged him along the way.

"Alright! There's our destination! You can all choose the food ya all wanna eat. It's my treat!" Hodgins declared with glee as he was now extremely happy because of what he witnessed.

'You fool. You hid the fact that you're already dating my adorable little Violet. How cute! Kuku." He thought as he watched the two beautiful creatures from afar.

As the two reunited once again, they firstly went to the Ever garden house to greet her foster family, dropped her luggage and lovingly put the scented Violet flowers in the vase.

'A person that fits her name.' She thought before the picking the last flower in the bouquet. The figure of the person who gave her a name that  day overlaps to the man who is proudly standing beside her right now. Even if his appearance has changed, the purenes and carefree love that she vividly saw that day still reflected into his beautiful emerald eyes.

She smiled as Gilbert called her name. The way he called her is like a prayer of promise, making her heart palpitate to the point like it's hard to breathe.

"Is it okay if I didn't change my clothes? I...wanted to be more presentable...for major."

Violet once again uttered a word that feels like a borrowed sentence. She too, was surprised as to when did she become self conscious when she's with the other people. But, the major isn't part of people who she categorized as 'others', Gilbert Bougainvillea is her 'Irreplaceable Treasure'.

"You don't have to. Violet, you are the most beautiful woman in my eyes. It cannot be compared to anyone else because my heart only yearns for you."

As Violet is still not used of this romantic side of Gilbert, she wound up turning away her gaze while pretended to smell the flower that she is holding. However, the feelings that she is trying to supress betrayed her greatly, making her blush adorably.

At that moment, Gilbert cannot help but hug her automaticly as she trembled like a cat, being enclosed with his comfortable warmth once again. He chuckled at her cute reaction. He wanted to tease his Violet more but decided not to do it as he ruffled her untangled golden hair.

"I love you, Violet."

The two walked side by side in the middle of the town and there, they found countless of people having fun. Gilbert found something that caught his eye. He smiled sheepishly and offered his hand to Violet, posing like a noble gentleman.

"May I have this dance, Miss Evergarden?"

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bougainvillea." As she gracefully bowed like a noble princess.

The two mostly spent their day through dancing, praising each other's dancing skills, and voicing out their heartfelt love for one another. They danced, danced, and danced, as the beat red orange sun highlighted the mesmerizing figure of the two lovers who was completely drowned in happiness.

The crowd around them cannot help but watch the lovely scene before them. It was like...this festival was made for them. As the autumn leaves began to sway in the cool windy breeze, the lustrous golden hair of that  woman began to flow shiningly, as her dress also began to flutter like a raging wave in the ocean.

"I didn't know the Colonel could dance. It feels like I'm seeing an illusion."

"It is much more surprising that he could smile like that. It's unbelievable!"

"I see. Now I understand why the Colonel was too eager to leave early HAHAHAHA the mighty sure have fallen...HARD!"

Among the watchers are Gilbert's subordinates who have just finished all the heavy work.

Not so far away from the said men, lies a man named, Dietfried who was silently watching his younger brother and his former tool with a furrowed brows.

"It was a beautiful sight, right? Future brother in law." The man who suddenly spoke to him is Laurus, still in his military uniform.

"More like a pair of fools."

He naturally walked away from him, and from that place. Once the people is out of his sight, he let out a true genuine smile and said,

"It was beautiful."

#violet evergarden #gilbert bougainvillea

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: Violet Evergarden: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll

Didn’t expect to return to this world, but I am happy to see it again. It’s important to consume media that makes you want to be a better storyteller. Keeps you humble while keeping the creative fire lit.

Like a well tended cooking fire.

Perhaps I need to take inspiration from Violet Evergarden: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll, and focus more on character exploration and dialogue in the major project I keep stalling on. The ‘Protagonist meets someone and they talk’ format is how I got through that one near-notable fanfiction I wrote until I actually figured out a plot.

The Violet Evergarden movie felt like two episodes of the series put together. An arc that could’ve fit easily into the television broadcast without missing a step. Which is what I wanted: more gentle vignettes in a beautiful world.

Violet herself makes a great supporting character. The stories are at their best when it’s more about the client than Violet. Violet’s a character in her epilogue: a former soldier who found someone who believed in her, lost him, and reached the end of the war in need of purpose, which she ultimately found as a scribe and courier company worker. Her love was found and lost before she truly understood what love even was, and the action’s over.

Which is part of why the story appeals to me. There’s a certain satisfaction in watching life go on after the life-defining events are over.

In a turn, the first story of the film positions Violet as the teacher introducing Amy/Isabella to a society after emerging from war times, paying forward the charity given to Violet when she was an adrift war orphan with medical problems.

Isabella is attending a finishing school for young women waiting to be married off. She’s uneasy around her classmates, as Isabella York is an identity given to Amy Bartlett, a homeless girl who was barely scraping by attempting to take care of a younger girl she’d adopted as her sister when a noble man appears to adopt Amy[1] with the promise of arranging care for the adopted sister, Taylor.

Now as Isabella York, the girl is first resentful of the prim and proper Violet Evergarden, keeping her at arm’s length. However, as Violet assists Isabella in her education, the two bond through various ship teases, and Violet’s method of polite bluntness helps Isabella bridge the gap with her classmates, and eventually Isabella trusts Violet enough to share her backstory and request a letter be written and delivered to Taylor. Violet happily obliges, and also dances with Isabella at the debutante’s graduation.

Because Kyoto Animation has found their niche in winks to Yuri fanbases, I guess.

Job complete, Violet leaves as Isabella suddenly gains friendship from an incidental character that was cleverly coded as a bully character, what with her royal ringlets and fufu laugh. Nice use of cliches to give the audience the same assumptions as Isabella.

Back at her postal company, Violet passes Isabella’s letter onto mail carrier Benedict, as well as a letter of her own.

Taylor Bartlett was placed at an orphanage, which is an obvious improvement from the shack she and Amy were living in, but she’s still lonely and forcing a distance between herself and her adopted sister. Further, Taylor received little education, as Benedict is forced to read the letters to the poor illiterate child.

Violet’s letter offers the girl, whom Violet hasn’t actually met, support should Taylor ever need it.

Isabella/Amy’s letter gives reassurance and an explanation for why she had to abandon her.

End part one.

Then we get a three year time skip (four years from the war ending). The steampunk tech has evolved, as more automobiles are on the roads and Benedict has taken to riding what is essentially a steam-powered ebike.[2]

I admire media that uses time skips, as it requires a dedication to committing to off screen changes and lost opportunities. Although, considering the strength of Violet Evergarden’s vignette based storytelling and ambiguous time scale, this particular skip leaves three years the production staff can go back and fill in with more stories.[3]

Everyone’s lives seem largely unchanged, however. Violet still resides in the company headquarters, the same staff are in their same roles, and so forth. Guess there’s not much career mobility in the courier business.

Anyways, Taylor snuck away from her orphanage and made her way to the city, tracking down the Postal Company that brought her a letter from her estranged sister. Upon finding the company and Benedict (who she recognizes as being the one to deliver her happiness), Taylor moves onto phase two: getting a job as Mail Carrier herself!

Company President Hodgins is reluctant to hire a literal child, but Violet steps in to convince him to take Taylor as an apprentice until arrangements can be made to return Taylor to the orphanage. It seems Violet feels kinship with this young orphan trying to find family and a place in the world.

It’s pretty cool that the greatest strength the once emotionless Violet developed is empathy. It’s a pretty cool trait to give your protagonist.[4]

Benedict briefly attempts to take Taylor on as his helper, discovering over their shared route that Taylor remains illiterate. So Violet steps in to teach Taylor to write, as well as getting out her old mail-carrier uniform to assist with teaching Taylor the job.

Eventually, the Evergarden family adopts Taylor,[5] and Taylor writes a letter for big sister Amy.

But no one actually knows where Amy/Isabella went after graduating from the finishing school.

So Benedict starts making calls and practicing some clever detective work to select the estate of a Duke Neville. The price he asks Hodgins for this work is a new motorcycle with sidecar, which carries both him and Taylor to the estate.

He arrives, finds Isabella content but alone, and delivers the letter as Taylor hides in the bushes. Both sisters cry happy tears, and Benedict and Taylor leave as they discuss Taylor’s decision not to actually reunite with her sister until becoming a proper mail carrier.

Thus concludes the film.

I quite enjoyed the movie as an extension of the original series, and I believe it is self-contained enough to stand on its own. There’s plenty of questions left unanswered, and it feels like the middle portion of a long story that the postal employees get only a brief glimpse of, which is appropriate for the tone. I wish the promotional materials made it seem less like the story of Violet sweeping a woman off her feet and more on it being an extra long episode of Violet Evergarden, as that’s what it truly is.

Now I need to cross off more things from my backlog.[6]

Hulu’s got the second season of Log Horizon...

Kataal kataal.

-

[1] Amy Bartlett either is legitimately the lost heir of a noble family, or was selected to take that role. I’m not clear on the truth. [2] I’d be jealous if it didn’t look so beat up and impractical. [3] I hope the production staff goes back to fill the three years with more stories. [4] Try it at home! [5] Considering it’s where Violet gets her last name, it’s odd how little a role Tiffany Evergarden plays outside of adopting girls for plot convenience… [6] Digimon Adventure's getting a reboot, and I still haven’t watched Tri!

#CanvasWatches #violet evergarden #anime #kyoani #CanvasReviews

[beneaththetangles]

The Bartender of Eden´s Hall

20/20 in 2020 Article: Our blog’s theme for this year is “20/20 in 2020: Setting Our Vision on Christ.” Throughout the year, we’ll post articles which relate to this theme, which encourages you, our readers, to turn away from the world and toward the Holy One. Enjoy the post below, which is part of our yearlong series.

-----

Bartender is an odd show for me to like. For one, I do not drink. All the richness of the beverages and their mixtures and flavors is completely lost to me, except for the colors and their very interesting history. And trust me, this show opens each bottle with utmost delicacy, attention, and care, and even gives you the recipe at the end. It could almost be a metaphor, since a lot of the very human problems and experiences it deals with are so completely beyond my life experience for now, dealing as they deal with the trial of tribulations of adult life (late adult life?) and the moments in which it is reconsidered after the years, that I can only relate to them in a somewhat oblique way (Japesland, who no doubt understand these aspects of the show better than I, once commented on the virtues of Bartender here). It is likely that, as I have heard happens with good liquors, I will come to appreciate it better with the years. Yet, I loved the series.

Bartender does not rush. It is episodic, calm, even quiet, while I am usually more interested in drama, action, comedy, colorful symbols, saving everyone, solving riddles, exploring new worlds, or engaging in deep philosophy. The world of Eden´s Hall—the comfortable bar of the eponymous Bartender—is quite different: There may be moments of healing grace, sudden realizations, an elegant use of camera and narrators, small mysteries or so, but the general tone is of slow contemplation of the details. Yet, I found it strangely compelling—it may be the closest I have been to experiencing the healing power of an iyashikei at this stage of my life—and went along with the flow. And then there was the last episode, and I sort of understood why the reason for this attraction became fully clear in a way that, surprise, involves an explicitly Christian reference, and one, I think, that is relevant for our theme in 2020.

For what is worth, spoilers ahead for the final episode of Bartender.

Ryu Sasakura, the mysterious, ever-elegant young man who helps others time after time in this remote corner of the city, where doors are heavy, as to separate those who enter from the outside world, is going to end his apprenticeship in Eden´s Hall. He has been until now the Glass of God, or of the Gods (Kami no Glass), the supreme bartender, the man who can bring the providential drink for the lost souls of the city. Thus, he is going to serve a legendary drink called “The Water of Life” (Macallan 1946, an unique whisky which had to be made with peated malt due to the high post-WWII prices of coal, and which happens to be one of the greatest, according to the show at least), and let his place be occupied by another. As you see, the Christian imaginary, references, and names are quite explicit, but in this episode they become more so.

As it happens, in the world of the show, the bartenders who serve drinks which providentially help their clients are sort of an order, whose origin he explains to our narrator. It is said that there was a lost traveler in the Alps who was saved in the middle of a storm by the hospitality of an abbey isolated from the world, whose monks treated him to a drink they had been making for generations, and which gave him strength and hope. He could not find the abbey ever again. According to Ryu´s words, he had been given the Water of Life. That is, love and hope to go on.

As someone familiar with monastic life (a classmate of mine, one of my best friends, is now a young nun in Spanish convent), this story is familiar to me. “Let all guests” says the Rule of St. Benedict for the monks, “who arrive be received like Christ, for He is going to say, ‘I came as a guest, and you received Me.’” And later, it says that in the reception “of the poor and of pilgrims the greatest care and solicitude should be shown, because it is especially in them that Christ is received.”

The peace which the show radiates, the understanding, the mature love and nobility of a well-done job, are directly inspired in those who try to serve Christ in their brothers and sisters from the place where they are. They are akin to what I feel when visiting my friend and her community to ask for prayer, receive advice, get perspective, or simply enjoy the company, to remember that the Cross is steady while the world turns. I may not have a favorite bar yet, but her convent, Iesu Communio, has become one of the most important places in my life. In any place devoted to prayer, community and service, where Our Lord is at the center, some of this peace may arise. Ryu and the bartenders have continued to learn and transmit this tradition of taking care of whoever enters the bar as they would serve the person who has loved them the most, as they would a king or a queen, to serve him or her in the big and small sufferings of life, and have thus become signs of living hope in this strange world in which we often feel trapped.

From the first episode, which shows Ryu sacrificing the best he has to serve a client who happens to be an enemy of his guild, trying to find out where he became embittered, and healing his rage in a very Christ-like way, to the last, where he interestingly mentions being happy to choose not the craft of bartending, but the life of a bartender, an undercurrent of gentle and patient love is established. Much like him, we do not simply try to did what Christ did, but rather to identify with Him, not finding a place for Him in our lives, but rather make our entire life His: He is alive, and wants to live in us: to be Christian, because we are loved by Christ. The lesson may be that living adventurously the thrilling plan of salvation offered to the Children of God may look to others as doing nothing important, perhaps serve one person at a time in small things in a discreet corner of the adult world, full of trials and tribulations I may not understand all that well yet. The Kingdom of which Our Lord is King looks often as a small seed to the world.

The point of the Macallan, according to Ryu, is that it was produced in the middle of the war when the future seemed dubious, with whatever was at hand, and thus it became a sign of hope. Much like that, we all try to live our vocation by serving Christ in others. We may be called to give a strong, unique testimony like that of the Baptist, puzzling the world. Indeed, there are moments in the show in which Ryu is given a seemingly unwordly gift to give his client the beverage whose meaning providentially answers the question he is posing, and there is something divine in his art, thus his nickname.

But often the sign of hope arises when a worldly vision deems this or that act of love unworthy or absurd, because by trusting Christ and trying to identify with Him and His word, we understand that the word we see is not absolute. The Water of Life, which Our Lord promised to the Samaritan woman and that we have received through Baptism, is also there. He said this Water would live in us, and flow like rivers from us. Ubi charitas et amore, Deus ibi est: wherever there is true love, in the struggles of life and human limitations, God is present.

=====

Bartender can be streamed on Crunchyroll.

#Anime #Christianity #Bartender #Grace #Faith #20 20 in 2020 #Articles #Author: Gaharet

[pamphletstoinspire]

April, the month dedicated to the Holy Eucharist

TRUE STORIES OF EUCHARISTIC MIRACLES (See Link Below)

Link: http://www.olrl.org/sacramen/ihsmrcls.shtml

We who hold faithful to what the Roman Catholic Church teaches, believe that Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, is truly present in the Most Holy Eucharist. We believe it on the words of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who promised to give us His flesh to eat and blood to drink, at the lakeside of Galilee (John 6, 48-60), and who fulfilled that promise at the Last Supper (Matt. 26: 26-28; Luke 22: 19-20; Mark 14: 22-24; 1 Cor. 11: 23-25). We have also the divine, infallible testimony of the Catholic Church which He established. The Holy Synod (the Council of Trent) decreed in Canon 1 on the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist: "If anyone denies that in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist are contained truly, really and substantially the body and blood together with the soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, and consequently the whole Christ, but says that He is in it only as in a sign, or figure or force, let him be anathema."

Over the centuries, Our Dear Lord has seen fit to work over 100 miracles confirming His real presence in the Most Blessed Sacrament. What is the purpose of these miracles? To prove what He said is true as the scripture says: "The Lord confirmed the word with signs that followed." (Mark 16:16) He wants us to believe His teaching and threatens us with damnation if we do not. "He that believeth not shall be condemned." (Mark 16:16) God is willing to give extraordinary means to help our faith because He desires our salvation. Jesus goes so far as to say: "Though you will not believe Me, believe the works." (John 10:38) "They give testimony of Me."

Related below are four wonderful Eucharistic miracles confirming Our Lord's real presence in the Most Blessed Sacrament.

1. For a long time the parish priest of Moncada in Spain had celebrated Mass without any scruples of conscience, when suddenly he became the prey of a violent doubt as to whether he had been rightly ordained. In his distress, to allay his doubts he determined to put his case before his bishop. He immediately set out on foot and journeyed to Valencia, the seat of the diocese. In this place it pleased Almighty God to deliver him from his trouble, and to give him light and peace by means of a very remarkable miracle.

The priest had been appointed to say Christmas Mass. He had reached the awful moment of Consecration, and with trembling hands took the host and pronounced the words of transubstantiation with a quivering voice. As he raised the Sacred Host aloft, and knelt again in trembling adoration, the cry of a little five-year-old child rang out from the congregation: "O Mama, what a lovely child! See there, Mama! He is up on the altar." A little lad nearby, apparently forgetful of everything else, stood upon the chair and clapped his hands with joy. The boy's mother was embarrassed and bade him hush, for no one else had seen the vision of beauty; only the innocent child saw it when the Sacred Host was raised on high. Again and again he entreated his mother to look. "Such a beautiful child, Mama," he whispered, "just like the little baby over there in the crib."

The mother and child awaited to hear a second Mass which was said by the same priest at dawn, and again at the Elevation the little boy exclaimed, "Oh, there he is again, Mama, don't you see? The priest is holding him up in his hands and now he has laid him on the altar!" The mother bade the child be silent; she could not see anything, the great grace being granted only to her little son.

The priest completed the Christmas offering by saying the third Mass. At the Elevation the boy was all excitement, and the same scene was enacted as before. The happy mother repeated this strange occurrence to others, and through them it reached the ears of the priest himself who, it may be believed, was greatly comforted thereby. However, his scruples were not entirely removed. He doubted whether the child might not have been deceived, and therefore he requested that the little boy be cross-examined by him. But the answers of the child were so accurate that he found no reason to doubt the reality of the manifestation. Full of joy and filled with gratitude towards God, he invited the little boy and his mother to be present as often as possible at his Mass, and on each occasion the miracle was renewed. As doubts still lingered in his mind, he resolved to receive a final convincing proof. Taking three particles with him to the altar, he placed two upon the corporal and consecrated them, leaving the third one unconsecrated but within reach. After Holy Mass was ended he called the little boy to the altar, and asked him if he saw the divine Infant in either of the particles, and, if so, in which. "Oh yes, Father," said the boy, "there He is! See, He is stretching out His hands." The little fellow seemed quite ravished with delight. On pointing to the other host the priest asked: "And what about it? Is the Divine Infant also in that other host?" The child answered, "No." "But are you sure?" queried the priest. "Oh yes, Father, there is nothing there." At the last manifestation the peace of the good priest returned to him. Unrest and scruple vanished from his mind forever, and for the remainder of his life he served God with greater love and piety.

PRAYER: "O Sacrament most holy! O Sacrament divine! All praise and all thanksgiving be every moment Thine.

2. In Valpariso, Chile, at the beginning of the 20th century, Fr. Mateo Crawley-Boevey SS, CC., well known as the great Apostle of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, was a young priest. Fr. Mateo told this story wherever he preached and he found that where people were prepared to earn "three golden coins" with love, many graces were obtained and many conversions followed.

He relates that one day an 8 year old girl told him that Jesus spoke to her every time she received Holy Communion. Father was somewhat skeptical and requested her to ask Jesus to give him proof. The proof Father requested was the sudden conversion of a certain man who was a big sinner, a fallen away Catholic, and enemy of the Church ... and also that this man should come to him for Confession.

About a week later when Fr. Mateo was hearing confessions, the young girl told him that this sinner was coming up to the church. As the priest was leaving the confessional, the fallen away Catholic came into the church and walked over to Fr. Mateo and asked him to help him with his confession. He said that it was the first one since he was baptized. He did not know what came over him that morning but he suddenly understood the necessity of going to confession. Father realized that he had received the proof he requested.

The young girl told the priest that Our Lord revealed to her that He would give the graces to repent and mend his ways to this fallen away Catholic, and also to many other souls. He said, "Always ask Me for souls and I will give them to you, and tell Father Mateo to ask Me for souls. I will give them to him, too, but first you must become My missionary."

She thought she was too young to be a missionary. Our Lord assured her that He would make her His missionary and that she would have to pay a certain price for souls. "I want you," said Jesus, "to earn three golden coins a day." Our Lord then explained what He meant by golden coins.  

1) The first golden coin was her prayers to Him for souls.

2) The second golden coin was her little sacrifices, especially acts of obedience.

3) The third golden coin was a promise: "never to miss Mass or Holy Communion through your own fault and to visit Me often in the Blessed Sacrament."

3. On the 17th of December, 1899, the fast mail on the way from Bordeaux to Paris met with a collision. In the mail car was Gabriel Gargam, a 30-year-old post office express clerk. At the time of the wreck the train was going at the speed of fifty miles an hour. By the crash Gargam was thrown fifty-two feet. He was terribly bruised and broken and paralyzed from the waist down. He was barely alive when lifted onto a stretcher. Taken to a hospital, his existence for some time was a living death. After eight months he had wasted away to a mere skeleton, weighing but seventy-eight pounds, although normally a big man. His feet became gangrenous. He could take no solid food and was obliged to take nourishment by a tube. Only once in twenty-four hours could he be fed even that way.

Gargam's condition was pitiable in the extreme. He could not help himself even in the most trifling needs. Two trained nurses were needed day and night to assist him. Previous to the accident, Gargam had not been to church for fifteen years. His aunt, who was a nun of the Order of the Sacred Heart, begged him to go to Lourdes. He refused. She continued her appeals to him to place himself in the hands of Our Lady of Lourdes. He was deaf to all her prayers. After continuous pleading of his mother he consented to go to Lourdes. It was now two years since the accident, and not for a moment had he left his bed all that time. He was carried on a stretcher to the train. The exertion caused him to faint, and for a full hour he was unconscious. They were on the point of abandoning the pilgrimage, as it looked as if he would die on the way, but the mother insisted, and the journey was made.

Arrived at Lourdes, he was carried to the miraculous pool and tenderly placed in its waters -- no effect. Rather a bad effect resulted, for the exertion threw him into a swoon and he lay apparently dead. On the way back they saw the procession of the Blessed Sacrament approaching. They stood aside to let it pass, having placed a cloth over the face of the man whom they supposed to be dead.

As the priest passed carrying the Sacred Host, he pronounced Benediction over the sorrowful group around the covered body. Soon there was a movement from under the covering. To the amazement of the bystanders, the body raised itself to a sitting posture. While the family were looking dumbfounded and the spectators gazed in amazement, Gargam said in a full, strong voice that he wanted to get up. He got up and stood erect, walked a few paces and said that he was cured. The multitude looked in wonder, and then fell on their knees and thanked God for this new sign of His power at the shrine of His Blessed Mother. For two years hardly any food had passed his lips but now he sat down to the table and ate a hearty meal.

On August 20th, 1901, sixty prominent doctors examined Gargam. Without stating the nature of the cure, they pronounced him entirely cured. Gargam, out of gratitude to God in the Holy Eucharist and His Blessed Mother, consecrated himself to the service of the invalids at Lourdes. Fifteen years after his miraculous cure he was still engaged in his strenuous and devoted work. He was for years a living, visible testimony of the supernatural.

PRAYER: May the Heart of Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament be praised, adored and loved with grateful affection, at every moment, in all the tabernacles of the world, even to the end of time.

4. Some years ago, a young man was unhappily led astray into the paths of Jewish infidelity. While still in the flower of youth, his heart was filled with dreams of glory to be attained as a distinguished musician. One evening he was asked to play the organ in one of the principal churches in Paris; there in that church God awaited him, and prepared for him, not a triumph of his self-love, but a humiliation a thousand times more glorious. Already the roof of the sacred edifice re-echoed the sound of the solemn chants, and the melodious tones of the organ had filled all hearts with recollection and prayer; every head was bowed and the God of the Eucharist had blessed His children prostrate in lowly adoration. The unbelieving musician, alone, dared to raise his haughty brow before that God despised by his forefathers, but in vain. A mysterious and invisible hand bowed his head and humbled him to the ground. A miracle of grace was effected; the young man was conquered; he knelt down a Jew; he rose up a Catholic. His heart wounded by the Real Presence in the Sacred Host, he left the church; soon the waters of Baptism were poured upon him, and exchanging his fashionable attire for the coarse serge of a monk, he bade an eternal farewell to the pleasures of the world. A living example of the power of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, he went from city to city, and from village to village, proclaiming the love of God, repeating again and again: "The days of grief are departed. I have found peace of heart since I have tasted the delights of the tabernacle of the Lord." If you would know the name of this privileged soul, ask it at the cloister of Mount Carmel, and they will tell you it was Father Augustine of the Most Blessed Sacrament. If one single visit to the God of the Eucharist transformed an obstinate Jew into a good Catholic, what may we not hope to obtain by devout visits to the Blessed Sacrament?

PRAYER: O my Jesus, I adore Thee in this Holy Sacrament, as my Lord and my God, as my Redeemer and Savior.

5. About the year 1599, in the city of Posen, a very remarkable incident took place in connection with the Blessed Sacrament. A servant girl, who was bribed by some unbelievers, stole from the chapel of the Dominicans three small Hosts, wrapped them in a linen cloth, and carried them to the house of the wretches who had hired her for the deed. The unbelievers treated the Sacred Hosts in a most sacrilegious and shameful manner. They threw them on a table and cut the Sacred Particles. Blood spurted out on the first one of the sacrilegious creatures and left a stain that could not be removed. The report of this strange occurrence soon spread abroad and crowds ran to see for themselves. A blind woman insisted on being led to the scene of this marvelous incident. Divinely inspired, she cried out: "If Thou art the true God, He whom our ancestors nailed to the Cross, restore to me my sight!" She was immediately cured, and went away proclaiming the miracle. The guilty profaners, fearing the just punishment of their heinous crime, wished to dispose of the desecrated Hosts, and after several fruitless efforts buried them to a great depth in a swamp.

One day on the octave of the Blessed Virgin, two herdsmen, father and son, brought their cattle to pasture near this place. The father went to a church not far off to hear Mass, while the son guarded the herd. To his surprise the boy saw the cattle approach the swamp and kneel down with their heads bent low. The shepherd raised his eyes and saw in the air over the swamp three shining objects. In amazement he perceived that they were three Hosts, and he instantly prostrated himself and profoundly adored the God who revealed Himself by so great a prodigy.

In the meantime, the father returned from Mass. As soon as the boy saw him he ran to meet him. "Father," he shouted, "our oxen are adoring the Blessed Sacrament!" "Nonsense!" replied the parent, shrugging his shoulders, "what folly is this!" "Come and see for yourself," protested the boy, "that I am telling the truth." While proceeding on his way the old man suddenly paused, with feet fastened to the ground and with eyes entranced as he beheld the astonishing scene. There at the farthest end of the marsh three little lights hung in the air, while the dumb beasts knelt with heads bowed to the earth. The old herdsman, all doubts gone, knelt in adoration before the three consecrated Hosts profaned by the unbelievers.

After a moment's prayer, the old man ran to the city and proclaimed the wonder to all whom he met. The people, however, looked upon him as a fool, and even cast him into prison. And now a new wonder occurred -- the prison door opened and freed the prisoner. This startled the authorities and they began to investigate. The Bishop and the clergy were informed and went in procession to the place indicated by the herdsman. Then the Sacred Hosts, which had remained suspended in the air, slowly descended and rested in the hands of a saintly priest. They were taken back to the city amidst great pomp and splendor. Then the authorities began to debate what disposition to make of the miraculous Hosts. While they were arguing, the Hosts rose from their hands, ascended into the air and returned to the marsh. The wish of Our Lord was evident. So they erected an improvised sanctuary on the spot, and this in turn was soon followed by a magnificent basilica founded by Ladislaus Jagellon, King of Poland. Needless to say, thousands of pilgrims have visited the famous shrine to adore the miraculous Hosts.

PRAYER: O sweetest Heart of Jesus, I implore that I may love Thee more and more. Jesus meek and humble of Heart, make my heart like unto Thine.

Only through the Catholic Church does Our Lord become truly present in the Holy Eucharist - one of the many proofs that the Catholic Church is the One True Church.

#eucharistic miracle

[how2to18]

TOWARD THE END of his densely packed and star-studded survey Everybody Had an Ocean: Music and Mayhem in 1960s Los Angeles, William McKeen offers an apocryphal exchange between music producer Terry Melcher and an aspiring local singer-songwriter named Charles Manson: “Charlie, there’s mixed emotions about promoting you,” Melcher (who was Doris Day’s son) is said to have told him. “You’re unpredictable. You amaze me at times, and at other times, you disappoint the hell out of me.” If only it had ended there.

Manson was already a known (though “unsigned”) commodity to some of the most highly successful rock musicians in the L.A. area at the time. In late 1968, Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson was telling the music press about a mystery man in Los Angeles whom he called “the Wizard,” a spiritual teacher and wise man, his personal guru. The Wizard was named Charlie, Dennis said. He had “recently come out of jail after 12 years.”

“He’s dumb, in some ways,” Wilson informed the British music paper Record Mirror, “but I accept his approach and have learn[ed] from him. […] His mother was a hooker, his father was a gangster, he’d drifted into crime but,” (but?) “when I met him I found he had great musical ideas.” Wilson hinted that he was thinking of launching the singing Manson girls as a group, the “Family Gems.” (Imagine that: Frank Zappa and the GTOs, I’d like you to meet Dennis and Charlie’s Family Gems.)

As McKeen tells it, Dennis was an eager champion of his friend Charlie, encouraging his songwriting, co-writing songs with him, and helping him make contacts to advance his musical career. Even Dennis’s brother Brian, McKeen writes, “understood why Dennis was so fascinated by Manson,” but ultimately found him “creepy” and locked himself in the bedroom whenever Charlie (often barefooted, unwashed, and reeking) was in the house.

This book’s subtitle is, of course, a dead (Manson) giveaway, and a glowering photo of Charles-the-demonic-fifth-Beatle graces the cover just to drive the point home. McKeen’s narrative doesn’t skimp on the promised Manson lore, either. Few things seem as out-of-joint and fascinating as the chancy, fateful encounters between high accomplishment and degradation, hence the undiminished appetite for details of the bizarre and fraught relationship between the Beach Boys and Dennis Wilson’s dreadful choice of a guru and creative partner, who would end up physically threatening him. Music + crime = sexy story: witness the Phil Spector shooting saga, which also makes an appearance in this book.

Within the most exalted circles of the L.A. music scene in the late ’60s, Manson was regarded as a talented up-and-comer, and, like many up-and-comers, very much on the make. These circles included top-tier artists like Mama Cass Elliot, Frank Zappa, and Neil Young, who not only acknowledged having played with Manson (!), but was gutsy enough to praise his songwriting and guitar-playing even after the Tate murders. (“Shakey” did dub Manson “spooky,” at least retrospectively. It’s too bad Young doesn’t divulge more of their interactions in his autobiography.)

The collaboration between Dennis Wilson and the Wizard did result in the one known Charles Manson song that was actually recorded and released on a Beach Boys record: “Cease to Exist,” Charlie’s original title, gave way to “Never Learn Not to Love,” the B-side of a single for the 1969 album 20/20. It’s a pretty good song, though Manson’s version is better (you can hear it on the famous Charles Manson album Lie). There are widely credited rumors that Brian and/or Dennis Wilson helped Charlie to record an entire album’s worth of music at Brian’s home studio, but brother Dennis, so the story goes, torched the tapes not long afterward with the comment, “this should never be on the Earth.” (The rumor doesn’t really specify whether Wilson burned the creepy recordings before or after the crimes, though.)

“In ’67? He was a sweet-faced little pixie!” a former Laurel Canyon denizen, who worked at the famous Canyon Store, once told this writer about Charlie. “When I saw him again in ’69? Whoah…” The wiry little minstrel from Griffith Park with the twinkle in his eye and the empathic concern toward young runaway hippie girls had transmogrified into a pissed-off, ferocious, bloodletting monster.

Though presented as a more or less comprehensive summa of the milieu Manson haunted, the book is clearly written by a Beach Boys fan, so let the buyer beware. In fact, let’s go to the index, and to the last entry: no, it appears McKeen has no interest (zero) in lifelong Laurel Canyon resident Frank Zappa, at the time a major musical arbiter and the begetter of many a band who (love him or loathe him) now serves as a dependable touchstone of the Laurel Canyon scene in most of the accounts I’ve come across; see Harvey Kubernik, Barney Hoskyns, and others.

McKeen’s musical blind spot also means this book has nothing to say about Arthur Lee and Love, a prime dark-side-of-psychedelia band, now with a huge posthumous reputation. One would think that the group’s one-handshake-away proximity to Manson would serve as a perfect entry into the crime-and-music nexus this book is ostensibly about; it is on record that Manson lieutenant Bobby Beausoleil, a talented guitarist and songwriter, often sat in with Love and was a good friend of Johnny Echols, the group’s bass player. Biracial Arthur Lee was himself as tortured as they come, eventually serving time for threatening a neighbor with a gun, but he was neither a psycho nor a killer.

McKeen has fun dipping into the purported origin stories of rock: “The Moondog Coronation Ball at Cleveland Arena on March 21, 1952, was the first rock n’ roll concert”? Really? “A little bit of the genetic material from that show,” he writes, “can be found any place where guitar, bass, drums and fans gather. That concert featured an all-star bill…” (McKeen then names three proto-rock combos whose names are now forgotten.) The man responsible for the gig was good old Alan Freed, the legendary Cleveland-based disc jockey who didn’t create the phrase rock-and-roll but was the first to make it popular. As McKeen tells it, a chance comment made to Freed in 1952 by a rhythm-and-blues musician named Billy Ward that he was about to “go rock and roll,” i.e., have sex, inspired Freed to give “this music he loved” the new moniker (though if I may enjoy my own moment of pedantry here, let it be noted that some recorded blues lyrics from the 1920s include the word “rock,” with the same sexual connotation).

This digging-for-origins stuff is, of course, a popular sport, but McKeen misses many more relevant (counter)cultural precedents. For instance, he leaves out (that aversion to Zappa again?) the story of a small group of post-beatnik bohemians in Los Angeles, including Zappa, who congregated at Canter’s Deli on Fairfax in the early ’60s and dressed in colorfully mismatched thrift-store clothes, arguably launching the psychedelic era, or at least its look. This group called themselves “freaks.” They made their mark and got the hippie look going, but for some reason the label didn’t last.

But what McKeen does include is interesting and provocative. He takes the warts-above-all approach in depicting the stars, like David Crosby (“David Van Cortlandt Crosby had all the arrogance that went with his stuffy name”), and takes a few digs at “bloated” and booze-addled Jim Morrison. Such low-down, contrarian treatment of so-called legends is refreshing, I must say, as is his surprising put-down of ’60s youth in general: “[P]erhaps the first generation to consider itself relevant without earning its place at the table.”

McKeen’s hero is clearly the tragic musical genius and obsessive perfectionist Brian Wilson. This is made plain by his closing benediction: “Though Brian Wilson and Mike Love no longer collaborate and Carl and Dennis Wilson are gone, they are all still together on the radio late at night, where they join voices and are young and golden and beautiful forever.”

If you’re looking for crime stories other than Manson, you’ll need to slog through enough Laurel Canyon rock-bios to get to the compelling tale of Frank Sinatra Jr.’s weird kidnapping in 1963 (give credit to Junior, who reportedly told his captors, “you guys don’t scare me”) and the strange connection between that crime and the hugely successful singing duo Jan and Dean (I won’t give it away here, just buy the book). Ultimately, like most mash-ups of musical and criminal lore, McKeen’s book makes for good reading, though it doesn’t cover either subject exhaustively.

¤

Anthony Mostrom, a former Los Angeles Times columnist, is currently a book reviewer and travel writer for the L.A. Weekly.

The post Wiry Minstrels and Bloodletting Monster: William McKeen’s “Everybody Had an Ocean: Music and Mayhem in 1960s Los Angeles” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2gTG9VC via IFTTT

#Blogger

[readbookywooks]

As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored, If Adam aught perhaps might interpose; Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes. Thus thou hast seen one world begin, and end; And Man, as from a second stock, proceed. Much thou hast yet to see; but I perceive Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine Must needs impair and weary human sense: Henceforth what is to come I will relate; Thou therefore give due audience, and attend. This second source of Men, while yet but few, And while the dread of judgement past remains Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, With some regard to what is just and right Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace; Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, Corn, wine, and oil; and, from the herd or flock, Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid, With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast, Shall spend their days in joy unblamed; and dwell Long time in peace, by families and tribes, Under paternal rule: till one shall rise Of proud ambitious heart; who, not content With fair equality, fraternal state, Will arrogate dominion undeserved Over his brethren, and quite dispossess Concord and law of nature from the earth; Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game) With war, and hostile snare, such as refuse Subjection to his empire tyrannous: A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled Before the Lord; as in despite of Heaven, Or from Heaven, claiming second sovranty; And from rebellion shall derive his name, Though of rebellion others he accuse. He with a crew, whom like ambition joins With him or under him to tyrannize, Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell: Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to build A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven; And get themselves a name; lest, far dispersed In foreign lands, their memory be lost; Regardless whether good or evil fame. But God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings, them beholding soon, Comes down to see their city, ere the tower Obstruct Heaven-towers, and in derision sets Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase Quite out their native language; and, instead, To sow a jangling noise of words unknown: Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud, Among the builders; each to other calls Not understood; till hoarse, and all in rage, As mocked they storm: great laughter was in Heaven, And looking down, to see the hubbub strange, And hear the din:  Thus was the building left Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named. Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased. O execrable son! so to aspire Above his brethren; to himself assuming Authority usurped, from God not given: He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, Dominion absolute; that right we hold By his donation; but man over men He made not lord; such title to himself Reserving, human left from human free. But this usurper his encroachment proud Stays not on Man; to God his tower intends Siege and defiance:  Wretched man!what food Will he convey up thither, to sustain Himself and his rash army; where thin air Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross, And famish him of breath, if not of bread? To whom thus Michael.  Justly thou abhorrest That son, who on the quiet state of men Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue Rational liberty; yet know withal, Since thy original lapse, true liberty Is lost, which always with right reason dwells Twinned, and from her hath no dividual being: Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed, Immediately inordinate desires, And upstart passions, catch the government From reason; and to servitude reduce Man, till then free.  Therefore, since he permits Within himself unworthy powers to reign Over free reason, God, in judgement just, Subjects him from without to violent lords; Who oft as undeservedly enthrall His outward freedom:  Tyranny must be; Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse. Yet sometimes nations will decline so low From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong, But justice, and some fatal curse annexed, Deprives them of their outward liberty; Their inward lost:  Witness the irreverent son Of him who built the ark; who, for the shame Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, Servant of servants, on his vicious race. Thus will this latter, as the former world, Still tend from bad to worse; till God at last, Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw His presence from among them, and avert His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforth To leave them to their own polluted ways; And one peculiar nation to select From all the rest, of whom to be invoked, A nation from one faithful man to spring: Him on this side Euphrates yet residing, Bred up in idol-worship:  O, that men (Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown, While yet the patriarch lived, who 'scaped the flood, As to forsake the living God, and fall To worship their own work in wood and stone For Gods!  Yet him God the Most High vouchsafes To call by vision, from his father's house, His kindred, and false Gods, into a land Which he will show him; and from him will raise A mighty nation; and upon him shower His benediction so, that in his seed All nations shall be blest: he straight obeys; Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes: I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith He leaves his Gods, his friends, and native soil, Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the ford To Haran; after him a cumbrous train Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude; Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealth With God, who called him, in a land unknown. Canaan he now attains; I see his tents Pitched about Sechem, and the neighbouring plain Of Moreh; there by promise he receives Gift to his progeny of all that land, From Hameth northward to the Desart south; (Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed;) From Hermon east to the great western Sea; Mount Hermon, yonder sea; each place behold In prospect, as I point them; on the shore Mount Carmel; here, the double-founted stream, Jordan, true limit eastward; but his sons Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills. This ponder, that all nations of the earth Shall in his seed be blessed:  By that seed Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise The Serpent's head; whereof to thee anon Plainlier shall be revealed.  This patriarch blest, Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call, A son, and of his son a grand-child, leaves; Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown: The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departs From Canaan to a land hereafter called Egypt, divided by the river Nile See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths Into the sea. To sojourn in that land He comes, invited by a younger son In time of dearth, a son whose worthy deeds Raise him to be the second in that realm Of Pharaoh. There he dies, and leaves his race Growing into a nation, and now grown Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves Inhospitably, and kills their infant males: Till by two brethren (these two brethren call Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim His people from enthralment, they return, With glory and spoil, back to their promised land. But first, the lawless tyrant, who denies To know their God, or message to regard, Must be compelled by signs and judgements dire; To blood unshed the rivers must be turned; Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fill With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land; His cattle must of rot and murren die; Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss, And all his people; thunder mixed with hail, Hail mixed with fire, must rend the Egyptians sky, And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls; What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green; Darkness must overshadow all his bounds, Palpable darkness, and blot out three days; Last, with one midnight stroke, all the first-born Of Egypt must lie dead.  Thus with ten wounds The river-dragon tamed at length submits To let his sojourners depart, and oft Humbles his stubborn heart; but still, as ice More hardened after thaw; till, in his rage Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea Swallows him with his host; but them lets pass, As on dry land, between two crystal walls; Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand Divided, till his rescued gain their shore: Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend, Though present in his Angel; who shall go Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire; By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire; To guide them in their journey, and remove Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues: All night he will pursue; but his approach Darkness defends between till morning watch; Then through the fiery pillar, and the cloud, God looking forth will trouble all his host, And craze their chariot-wheels: when by command Moses once more his potent rod extends Over the sea; the sea his rod obeys; On their embattled ranks the waves return, And overwhelm their war:  The race elect Safe toward Canaan from the shore advance Through the wild Desart, not the readiest way; Lest, entering on the Canaanite alarmed, War terrify them inexpert, and fear Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather Inglorious life with servitude; for life To noble and ignoble is more sweet Untrained in arms, where rashness leads not on. This also shall they gain by their delay In the wide wilderness; there they shall found Their government, and their great senate choose Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordained: God from the mount of Sinai, whose gray top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets' sound, Ordain them laws; part, such as appertain To civil justice; part, religious rites Of sacrifice; informing them, by types And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind's deliverance.  But the voice of God To mortal ear is dreadful:  They beseech That Moses might report to them his will, And terrour cease; he grants what they besought, Instructed that to God is no access Without Mediator, whose high office now Moses in figure bears; to introduce One greater, of whose day he shall foretel, And all the Prophets in their age the times Of great Messiah shall sing.  Thus, laws and rites Established, such delight hath God in Men Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes Among them to set up his tabernacle; The Holy One with mortal Men to dwell: By his prescript a sanctuary is framed Of cedar, overlaid with gold; therein An ark, and in the ark his testimony, The records of his covenant; over these A mercy-seat of gold, between the wings Of two bright Cherubim; before him burn Seven lamps as in a zodiack representing The heavenly fires; over the tent a cloud Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night; Save when they journey, and at length they come, Conducted by his Angel, to the land Promised to Abraham and his seed:--The rest Were long to tell; how many battles fought How many kings destroyed; and kingdoms won; Or how the sun shall in mid Heaven stand still A day entire, and night's due course adjourn, Man's voice commanding, 'Sun, in Gibeon stand, 'And thou moon in the vale of Aialon, 'Till Israel overcome! so call the third From Abraham, son of Isaac; and from him His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win. Here Adam interposed.  O sent from Heaven, Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things Thou hast revealed; those chiefly, which concern Just Abraham and his seed: now first I find Mine eyes true-opening, and my heart much eased; Erewhile perplexed with thoughts, what would become Of me and all mankind:  But now I see His day, in whom all nations shall be blest; Favour unmerited by me, who sought Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means. This yet I apprehend not, why to those Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth So many and so various laws are given; So many laws argue so many sins Among them; how can God with such reside? To whom thus Michael.  Doubt not but that sin Will reign among them, as of thee begot; And therefore was law given them, to evince Their natural pravity, by stirring up Sin against law to fight: that when they see Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak, The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude Some blood more precious must be paid for Man; Just for unjust; that, in such righteousness To them by faith imputed, they may find Justification towards God, and peace Of conscience; which the law by ceremonies Cannot appease; nor Man the mortal part Perform; and, not performing, cannot live. So law appears imperfect; and but given With purpose to resign them, in full time, Up to a better covenant; disciplined From shadowy types to truth; from flesh to spirit; From imposition of strict laws to free Acceptance of large grace; from servile fear To filial; works of law to works of faith. And therefore shall not Moses, though of God Highly beloved, being but the minister Of law, his people into Canaan lead; But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call, His name and office bearing, who shall quell The adversary-Serpent, and bring back Through the world's wilderness long-wandered Man Safe to eternal Paradise of rest. Mean while they, in their earthly Canaan placed, Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins National interrupt their publick peace, Provoking God to raise them enemies; From whom as oft he saves them penitent By Judges first, then under Kings; of whom The second, both for piety renowned And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive Irrevocable, that his regal throne For ever shall endure; the like shall sing All Prophecy, that of the royal stock Of David (so I name this king) shall rise A Son, the Woman's seed to thee foretold, Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust All nations; and to kings foretold, of kings The last; for of his reign shall be no end. But first, a long succession must ensue; And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed, The clouded ark of God, till then in tents Wandering, shall in a glorious temple enshrine. Such follow him, as shall be registered Part good, part bad; of bad the longer scroll; Whose foul idolatries, and other faults Heaped to the popular sum, will so incense God, as to leave them, and expose their land, Their city, his temple, and his holy ark, With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey To that proud city, whose high walls thou sawest Left in confusion; Babylon thence called. There in captivity he lets them dwell The space of seventy years; then brings them back, Remembering mercy, and his covenant sworn To David, stablished as the days of Heaven. Returned from Babylon by leave of kings Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God They first re-edify; and for a while In mean estate live moderate; till, grown In wealth and multitude, factious they grow; But first among the priests dissention springs, Men who attend the altar, and should most Endeavour peace: their strife pollution brings Upon the temple itself: at last they seise The scepter, and regard not David's sons; Then lose it to a stranger, that the true Anointed King Messiah might be born Barred of his right; yet at his birth a star, Unseen before in Heaven, proclaims him come; And guides the eastern sages, who inquire His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold: His place of birth a solemn Angel tells To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night; They gladly thither haste, and by a quire Of squadroned Angels hear his carol sung. A virgin is his mother, but his sire The power of the Most High:  He shall ascend The throne hereditary, and bound his reign With Earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens. He ceased, discerning Adam with such joy Surcharged, as had like grief been dewed in tears, Without the vent of words; which these he breathed. O prophet of glad tidings, finisher Of utmost hope! now clear I understand What oft my steadiest thoughts have searched in vain; Why our great Expectation should be called The seed of Woman:  Virgin Mother, hail, High in the love of Heaven; yet from my loins Thou shalt proceed, and from thy womb the Son Of God Most High: so God with Man unites! Needs must the Serpent now his capital bruise Expect with mortal pain:  Say where and when Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the victor's heel. To whom thus Michael.  Dream not of their fight, As of a duel, or the local wounds Of head or heel:  Not therefore joins the Son Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil Thy enemy; nor so is overcome Satan, whose fall from Heaven, a deadlier bruise, Disabled, not to give thee thy death's wound: Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure, Not by destroying Satan, but his works In thee, and in thy seed:  Nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which thou didst want, Obedience to the law of God, imposed On penalty of death, and suffering death; The penalty to thy transgression due, And due to theirs which out of thine will grow: So only can high Justice rest appaid. The law of God exact he shall fulfil Both by obedience and by love, though love Alone fulfil the law; thy punishment He shall endure, by coming in the flesh To a reproachful life, and cursed death; Proclaiming life to all who shall believe In his redemption; and that his obedience, Imputed, becomes theirs by faith; his merits To save them, not their own, though legal, works. For this he shall live hated, be blasphemed, Seised on by force, judged, and to death condemned A shameful and accursed, nailed to the cross By his own nation; slain for bringing life: But to the cross he nails thy enemies, The law that is against thee, and the sins Of all mankind, with him there crucified, Never to hurt them more who rightly trust In this his satisfaction; so he dies, But soon revives; Death over him no power Shall long usurp; ere the third dawning light Return, the stars of morn shall see him rise Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light, Thy ransom paid, which Man from death redeems, His death for Man, as many as offered life Neglect not, and the benefit embrace By faith not void of works:  This God-like act Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldest have died, In sin for ever lost from life; this act Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength, Defeating Sin and Death, his two main arms; And fix far deeper in his head their stings Than temporal death shall bruise the victor's heel, Or theirs whom he redeems; a death, like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life. Nor after resurrection shall he stay Longer on earth, than certain times to appear To his disciples, men who in his life Still followed him; to them shall leave in charge To teach all nations what of him they learned And his salvation; them who shall believe Baptizing in the profluent stream, the sign Of washing them from guilt of sin to life Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befall, For death, like that which the Redeemer died. All nations they shall teach; for, from that day, Not only to the sons of Abraham's loins Salvation shall be preached, but to the sons Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world; So in his seed all nations shall be blest. Then to the Heaven of Heavens he shall ascend With victory, triumphing through the air Over his foes and thine; there shall surprise The Serpent, prince of air, and drag in chains Through all his realm, and there confounded leave; Then enter into glory, and resume His seat at God's right hand, exalted high Above all names in Heaven; and thence shall come, When this world's dissolution shall be ripe, With glory and power to judge both quick and dead; To judge the unfaithful dead, but to reward His faithful, and receive them into bliss, Whether in Heaven or Earth; for then the Earth Shall all be Paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier days. So spake the Arch-Angel Michael; then paused, As at the world's great period; and our sire, Replete with joy and wonder, thus replied. O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good; more wonderful Than that which by creation first brought forth Light out of darkness!  Full of doubt I stand, Whether I should repent me now of sin By me done, and occasioned; or rejoice Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring; To God more glory, more good-will to Men From God, and over wrath grace shall abound. But say, if our Deliverer up to Heaven Must re-ascend, what will betide the few His faithful, left among the unfaithful herd, The enemies of truth?  Who then shall guide His people, who defend?  Will they not deal Worse with his followers than with him they dealt? Be sure they will, said the Angel; but from Heaven He to his own a Comforter will send, The promise of the Father, who shall dwell His Spirit within them; and the law of faith, Working through love, upon their hearts shall write, To guide them in all truth; and also arm With spiritual armour, able to resist Satan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts; What man can do against them, not afraid, Though to the death; against such cruelties With inward consolations recompensed, And oft supported so as shall amaze Their proudest persecutors:  For the Spirit, Poured first on his Apostles, whom he sends To evangelize the nations, then on all Baptized, shall them with wonderous gifts endue To speak all tongues, and do all miracles, As did their Lord before them.  Thus they win Great numbers of each nation to receive With joy the tidings brought from Heaven:  At length Their ministry performed, and race well run, Their doctrine and their story written left, They die; but in their room, as they forewarn, Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, Who all the sacred mysteries of Heaven To their own vile advantages shall turn Of lucre and ambition; and the truth With superstitions and traditions taint, Left only in those written records pure, Though not but by the Spirit understood. Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names, Places, and titles, and with these to join Secular power; though feigning still to act By spiritual, to themselves appropriating The Spirit of God, promised alike and given To all believers; and, from that pretence, Spiritual laws by carnal power shall force On every conscience; laws which none shall find Left them inrolled, or what the Spirit within Shall on the heart engrave.  What will they then But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind His consort Liberty? what, but unbuild His living temples, built by faith to stand, Their own faith, not another's? for, on earth, Who against faith and conscience can be heard Infallible? yet many will presume: Whence heavy persecution shall arise On all, who in the worship persevere Of spirit and truth; the rest, far greater part, Will deem in outward rites and specious forms Religion satisfied; Truth shall retire Bestuck with slanderous darts, and works of faith Rarely be found:  So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign; Under her own weight groaning; till the day Appear of respiration to the just, And vengeance to the wicked, at return Of him so lately promised to thy aid, The Woman's Seed; obscurely then foretold, Now ampler known thy Saviour and thy Lord; Last, in the clouds, from Heaven to be revealed In glory of the Father, to dissolve Satan with his perverted world; then raise From the conflagrant mass, purged and refined, New Heavens, new Earth, ages of endless date, Founded in righteousness, and peace, and love; To bring forth fruits, joy and eternal bliss. He ended; and thus Adam last replied. How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest, Measured this transient world, the race of time, Till time stand fixed!  Beyond is all abyss, Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. Greatly-instructed I shall hence depart; Greatly in peace of thought; and have my fill Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain; Beyond which was my folly to aspire. Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best, And love with fear the only God; to walk As in his presence; ever to observe His providence; and on him sole depend, Merciful over all his works, with good Still overcoming evil, and by small Accomplishing great things, by things deemed weak Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise By simply meek: that suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And, to the faithful, death the gate of life; Taught this by his example, whom I now Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest. To whom thus also the Angel last replied. This having learned, thou hast attained the sum Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars Thou knewest by name, and all the ethereal powers, All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works, Or works of God in Heaven, air, earth, or sea, And all the riches of this world enjoyedst, And all the rule, one empire; only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, By name to come called charity, the soul Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loth To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.-- Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation; for the hour precise Exacts our parting hence; and see!the guards, By me encamped on yonder hill, expect Their motion; at whose front a flaming sword, In signal of remove, waves fiercely round: We may no longer stay: go, waken Eve; Her also I with gentle dreams have calmed Portending good, and all her spirits composed To meek submission: thou, at season fit, Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard; Chiefly what may concern her faith to know, The great deliverance by her seed to come (For by the Woman's seed) on all mankind: That ye may live, which will be many days, Both in one faith unanimous, though sad, With cause, for evils past; yet much more cheered With meditation on the happy end. He ended, and they both descend the hill; Descended, Adam to the bower, where Eve Lay sleeping, ran before; but found her waked; And thus with words not sad she him received. Whence thou returnest, and whither wentest, I know; For God is also in sleep; and dreams advise, Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow and heart's distress Wearied I fell asleep:  But now lead on; In me is no delay; with thee to go, Is to stay here; without thee here to stay, Is to go hence unwilling; thou to me Art all things under $Heaven, all places thou, Who for my wilful crime art banished hence. This further consolation yet secure I carry hence; though all by me is lost, Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed, By me the Promised Seed shall all restore. So spake our mother Eve; and Adam heard Well pleased, but answered not:  For now, too nigh The Arch-Angel stood; and, from the other hill To their fixed station, all in bright array The Cherubim descended; on the ground Gliding meteorous, as evening-mist Risen from a river o'er the marish glides, And gathers ground fast at the labourer's heel Homeward returning.  High in front advanced, The brandished sword of God before them blazed, Fierce as a comet; which with torrid heat, And vapour as the Libyan air adust, Began to parch that temperate clime; whereat In either hand the hastening Angel caught Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain; then disappeared. They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms: Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

#ParadiseLost