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silverhandy · 4 years

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I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 6

Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.

ao3 I chapter 1 I chapter 2 I chapter 3 I chapter 4 I chapter 5

When Takemura opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was, the apartment so foreign compared to what he was used to. The dissonance was almost enough to push the grogginess away from his mind, make the heaviness of his limbs less daunting as he looked around, taking in the surroundings. Right, he was at Viktor’s, must’ve dozed off at some point. At first, Takemura didn’t know what awoke him, other than the painful stiffness of his neck and shoulders but as his vision cleared, that, too, became apparent. Viktor was standing by the kitchen counter, motioning to take off his jacket, the snow that covered the material already melted and soaking into it, but froze halfway when he saw Takemura stir awake.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya. Should’ve taken the bed, though.”

“You did not wake me, I was just about to…” Takemura replied, motioning to get up, but what stopped him was a warning meow from the cat, still lying on his lap. It raised its head, clearly not amused by the disturbance. Viktor raised his eyebrows, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed himself a chair and sat down, leaving the jacket on the counter.

“He likes you.”

“Does he have a name?” Takemura asked as the cat stood up, clearly deciding it had had enough of its guest’s affections, and jumped to the floor in a swift motion, not even glancing at the two men.

“Nibbles.” Viktor chuckled. “Before you ask, it was not my idea, but V’s. Judy...isn’t in the best place right now, said the cat reminds her of V too much, plus she’s leaving Night City for good anyway. Asked me to take care of it, so I took the little guy in.” he said, looking over at Nibbles, who jumped onto the counter, eyeing the bowls on the far corner of it and finally turning its gaze back to Viktor, disappointment clearly visible in its huge eyes. The ripperdoc shook his head slightly, a soft smile on his face as he engaged in a staring match with the cat, his eyes losing focus behind the tinted lenses as he got lost in thought. Takemura took the time to stretch, the aftereffects of a nap in such an uncomfortable position having stiffened his joints. He didn’t feel rested, more like he had been rather abruptly fished out of a tank filled with warm water. Then again, he didn’t think he knew what feeling rested felt like anymore.

“A fine feline.” Takemura finally said, only to break the uncomfortable silence between them and to shake the doctor off whatever track of thought he found himself on. Viktor only hummed in acknowledgment, turning his gaze back to the other man.

“Glad to see you settled in okay. It’s been slow at the clinic, so I thought I would drop by, just to grab something and see how you’re doin’ while I’m at it.”

Takemura took a quick look at the little screen displaying the time, the digital numbers displayed on a small screen giving off a soft, blue glow. What he probably should have expected, what would have been just a moment of rest turned into a few hours and Takemura had already felt he had wasted enough time.

“Thank you for the clothes,” he said, bowing his head slightly, as if his words weren’t enough to accent his appreciation. In reality, they really weren’t.

Viktor waved his hand.

“Don’t mention it. Figured you’d want to wear something that’d make you feel more...you.”

Takemura let out a deep sigh. Viktor deserved more than half-truths and omissions. He owed him the truth, after everything the ripperdoc had done for him.

“I was let go from the company.” Viktor raised his eyebrows at this sudden change of topic, but said nothing, allowing Takemura to carefully choose his words as he continued. “Completely and irrevocably. I refused to accept the consequences my actions have brought upon me and was punished for it.”

“Letting you out alive was Saka’s idea of a parting gift?” Viktor asked, leaning back on the chair. Despite the calmness of his voice, Takemura could feel a hint of sarcasm, anger even, though it was not directed at him.

“I would say it was the opposite. In their eyes, I did not take the chance to redeem my honor and have to live with that decision weighing down on me.”

Viktor hummed and took off his glasses, wiping the lenses on the edge of his shirt. Even though Takemura never wore them, always having been equipped with cutting edge optics, a new set from time to time, long before it officially made its way into the wider market, he doubted cleaning the lenses like this was effective. It almost looked like Viktor was buying himself time to think about what he was about to say, though the silence didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“And in your eyes?”

The question took Takemura aback, summing up what he’d been thinking about in merely a few words. A rare thing it might be, an ability he never had, never needed back when his life was dictated by a clear set of rules and orders from people he accepted as his superiors, first in the military and then, later, by Saburo-dono’s side.

“I...am not sure yet. I came all this way only to realize that what I fought my entire life to protect, to uphold might be little more than a vicious lie. It is hard to face, how replaceable I am. I had been selfish, enough to believe that after I cleared my name and helped Hanako-sama bring Yorinobu to justice, everything would be the same as before. How foolish of me! Before I knew it, the order of things I fought to help restore, one I have killed for, was distorted into something I could no longer recognize. And the scariest part,” Takemura hesitated for a moment, but it was too late to not finish his trail of thought, bare all his doubts to Viktor the way he would never dare to in front of someone else. “is that it might have always been like that. I was just too blind to notice.”

“Must’ve felt like a rug was swept from under your feet. However painful it might seem, you are your own man now. You can forge your own path, and it’s only up to you if you see it as a blessing or a curse, but it does make a hell of a difference. Trust me,” Viktor said, a warm, knowing smile on his face. “I’ve been there.”

Takemura felt curiosity rise in his chest, remembering the photo of Viktor from his Trauma days, but he didn’t want to push the other man, just as Viktor had not pushed him. As expected, the ripperdoc didn’t elaborate and Takemura didn’t ask him to. There was a time for everything and he felt it wasn’t it, not yet.

“Thank you,” he said and stood up, walking to the chair to grab his coat and put it on. It wasn’t that late, he might still be able to catch Akiko at work, not that she ever left it. “I am going to meet with a netrunner, but will be back soon.”

“A friend of yours?”

“I would hesitate to call her a friend, but we did help each other. That account I mentioned, I set it up shortly before leaving the city. I never thought I would have to use it again, but as you say...better to be safe than sorry.”

Viktor hummed in response. “Alright. Just watch your step out there, the snow is pretty nasty.”

“I will. By the way,” Takemura turned around just as he was about to put his hand on a scanner to open the front door. “what did you do with that car? And the wakizashi?”

“The sword? Still have it, but left it behind at the clinic. Do you need it back?”

Takemura hesitated. Does he?

“Not really.” he silently hoped he never will. “The car?”

“Had to call in a favor to make it disappear. A real shame, it was quite a beauty. Your Arasaka buddies seem to have cleaned their own mess before NCPD caught a whiff.”

“Of course. They always do.” and with that, he walked out.

***

When he finally reached the less frequented part of Charter Hill, the little sunlight that managed to break through the dark, heavy clouds was long gone, giving way to street lights and neons tastefully implemented into the newly built, sleek looking buildings, even though right now they were obscured by the heavy snowfall that made Takemura regret he couldn't just drive there. Even the ever present neons and advertisements were more subtle, on par with the kind of life the people residing in the district were leading - moderately comfortable, a step up from Heywood, but still not high enough up the food chain to compare with those rich enough to reside in City Plaza. Takemura had eventually strayed off from the wide, open spaced pavements into a more dense area, navigating the increasingly narrow streets that exposed the true image of Charter Hill, the middleman district with nothing but a pretty exterior masking the rot that went too deep into Night City’s system to ever be truly hidden, revealing itself in various ways, from overworked corpos passed out the benches despite the grueling cold to the occasional bloodstain on the pavement, only partially obscured by fresh snow, one that the cleaners haven’t managed to scrub off yet. An organic proof of meaningless violence in a place that kept eating its own young and hopeful, entangling them in an endless web of favors and obligations, one that kept tightening and spreading all around the city. Even Takemura, on his first visit to Night City, out of money and resources, found himself entering the untold arrangement that kept the city ticking, indebting himself to people and indebting others for his sake just to keep himself afloat. Some of the favors he already cashed in, others he hoped he’ll never have to, but at least in this case he didn’t walk past the rusty gate to the netrunner’s basement with cautious distrust, as he did with so many others. Akiko was different, much more human despite the fact she interacted with the ghosts floating around the Net much more frequently than with regular humans. Despite that, she still had something that many have lost on lesser endeavors - a conscience and a heart to back it up.

As he walked down the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice the water dripping from the roof has turned into, he pushed the heavy, metal door open, only a small name plaque an indicator of who might reside there. The doors closed behind him with a dull thud, one that almost made him jump as he walked further into the building, following the neon line on the floor, the only source of light in the otherwise completely dark corridor. Eventually, it widened into a large room, the netrunner the only person there. For a second, Takemura didn’t even see her until he turned his gaze to the server on the left side, one of many lining the walls. Before Takemura had a chance to announce his presence, the netrunner’s voice came, a bit muffled:

“Yeah yeah, gimme a sec!” the woman muttered, her entire torso still hidden inside the jaws of the machine as she tinkered with its’ insides, balancing on one foot as she struggled to reach for the cable she needed.

“No rush, Akiko,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, seemingly the only place in the entire room where he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over or breaking something, the space was so densely covered with cables and spare parts spread all over the floor and running up, creeping up on the walls, some insulated with a dulled glow of tiny LEDs, basking the room in an unnatural, blue light. How the netrunner could work like this, Takemura had no idea.

Upon hearing his voice, the woman jumped, hitting her head on the metal plate with an audible thud. Cursing under her breath, she finally emerged and turned to face him, rubbing the back of her head with a pained expression.

“Takemura, you scared the shit out of me! Some warning would be nice,” she complained as she walked over around the partially disassembled netrunning chair to greet him, a smile on her face despite her seemingly cold tone. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her, her previously long, greying hair now cut short and dyed angry pink, reflecting the blue hues and creating strands of violet that danced around her face every time she moved her head.

“I presume this means you have not expected me.”

“After our last conversation? The only person I expected to see less was Saburo Arasaka himself. What brings you back to Nigh City? I thought you hated the place.” she said, stepping over a box of what looked like fried cyberdecks to grab a chair. “Here, take a seat, you look like you’re about to topple over.”

Takemura sighed and reluctantly sat down, secretly grateful for the offer. The room was unpleasantly warm, servers towering one next to the other enough to bring the temperature up to a point where he had to shake off his coat.

“I came to honor the memory of a friend and stayed to admire the scenery,” he said, his attempt at sarcasm met with Akiko’s expression softening. Takemura saw the way her eyes kept darting to his arm, bandage peeking out from the long sleeve of his shirt.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. It was that merc that you worked with, right? I heard about what you guys pulled at the parade from a ‘runner friend of mine. With what came after, I thought you’d be back at Saburo’s side in Tokyo, so…”

“Akiko-san, excuse me, but I did not come here to gossip.” he stopped her mid sentence, feeling a sudden need to cut this conversation short and get out of this warm, confined room into the biting cold of Charter Hill. The woman looked surprised at the retort.

“O-of course. Whaddya need?”

“That account I asked you to set up before I left. Is it still up?”

This time, she scoffed.

“‘Course it is. I have one of these beauties constantly pulling it in and out of the Net as we speak.” she pointed to one of the servers lining the wall. “Normally it would’ve cost you a ton of eddies to keep it buried as deep as it is, but I honor my debts. You helped me, now I’m helping you, no questions asked. Although…” she trailed off and crossed her arms. “I’d certainly appreciate it if you cared to share why the hell you need to cash that one in in the first place. Arasaka not paying as much as they did back in my day?”

Takemura grunted. Of course, she, of all the people he got to know in this godforsaken city, wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

“We had a disagreement of sorts, one that resulted in me being let go in a rather abrupt manner. I did not have much time to make preparations for such an event, hence I come to you. I need to get access to the deposit. Can you do that for me?”

Akiko narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting such honesty on Takemura’s part.

“Well then,” she said, reaching for a port box propped up next to one of the many screens standing on the tabletop. “of course I can. Just jack in and I’m gonna walk you through it.”

“I am afraid my personal link is out of commission for now. Is there any other way?”

“Good luck getting around the city without one. You had a ripperdoc take a look?”

“I did,” he replied, a bit annoyed at her pretentiousness. “Please Akiko, just focus. Is there any other way?”

“I can put you through a neural port directly, but…”

“What?”

“You’d have to jump into the Net with me and to be frank, you don’t look like you’re at the top of your game. With no one keeping an eye on your biomon, I’m worried you could flatline on me.”

“So I can either wait until my personal link can be fixed or come back here with a ripperdoc?

“A tech savvy one at that. And someone you trust, considering what we’re doing here.”

Takemura was silent for a few seconds, considering. Just a few months ago, he’d probably rush into it, not wanting to stall his progress any further, determined to keep things moving even if it would cost him later, but now, with the unexpected turn his life has taken, he wasn't so quick to act. If jumping into the Net was as risky as Akiko made it out to be, and he had every reason to trust her on that, pushing for it right now would be counterproductive. He thought about Viktor and how his work would go to waste if Takemura was to fry on the netrunner’s chair, so much effort on the ripperdoc’s part for nothing. Other than the need to pay Viktor off as soon as possible, even if only to make up for his kindness, since the doctor not only did not push Takemura to hurry but offered him a place to stay so casually, there was nothing rushing him. No time sensitive goal that required him to push himself far past his limits as he feared not only for his uncertain future, but for his very life. It felt odd, in a way.

“Fine. I think I know just the right person.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #goro takemura/viktor vector #takevik #vikemura #goro takemura #viktor vector #victor vector #cp2077 spoilers #the devil ending #my writing

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bangtanmythology · 4 years

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In The Name Of Song. Truth Uncovered.

About: Y/N finds out the whole story of what she has become and who those around her are. Her training starts and her and Jimin become the siblings he’s always known they were.

Brother!Jimin x Reader, Mermaid!Jimin, Angel!Yoongi. BTS Supernatural AU.

Words: 2.9K

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“I understand the parent’s side of things. My Great, Great Grandmother betrayed a group of witches by having an affair with the head witches’ husband, who was a human and had a child, so they cursed her. The curse meant that she would never be able to marry a regular human or another mermaid, if she did fall in love with any of these then she was destined to kill him with her voice. Right? So, when she sang a lullaby to her baby, the husband died. The baby, who was my great grandmother, ended up marrying an nasty, rebelling mermaid, their female baby was born half mermaid, the other half became what was known as a siren because the baby, our grandmother, used her powers for evil things, she’d lure sailors in, killing them and using them, never falling in love but instead simply killing them. When we use our siren form to lure people instead of making them fall in love, we will simply kill them. Grandma used the sailors and ended up having a baby with one of them, she abandoned this baby and another mermaid raised mum.” You rambled,

The story was beyond complicated, your head spinning round in circles as Jimin stared at you, nodding every so often with a focused look on his face. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on your ankle, in the few hours that Yoongi had left you alone with Jimin you came to realise that he was an extremely clingy person.

“Yes, that’s all correct and then you know the story with mum and dad, we are now indebted to the reapers but the devils and angels work along side these reapers and when an angel falls, instead of becoming a devil, they are stuck wandering around the earth however they retain some of their angel powers. Yoongi is a fallen angel because he betrayed Michael, the archangel. He has not told me what he did to this day. He is stuck on earth, he begged the reapers to kill him again, to take him from this world and place him as a devil in the next but they would not do it. He begged for a purpose, for something to do, for something to protect, they told him that his debt would be payed off if he spent his life watching over our families. They told him that when we turned 18 he had to bring us here and watch us, make sure that we weren’t causing harm to the reality that we were in, this is the 7th Reality, we’re from the first reality which is the main reality. He had some other mermaids brought here to train me, our grandmother is here, she’s going to help you, along with me, we’re going to train you.” Jimin’s voice was soothing, his words somehow sinking fully into you and making it seem as though maybe all of this would be okay.

“Right, so he is a fallen angel, a bad one? He stares at me funny.” You mumbled, looking down at Jimin’s hand that was now gently running over the smaller grazes on your calves. Jimin looked up at you, shaking his head and laughing,

“He’s not bad, he was kicked out of the angel realm, that’s all, he’s grumpy, I mean he basically looks after this world all alone, the reapers went extinct 9 years ago and nobody else was sent to care for everything. Half of this world is dead, only magical creatures and hybrids live here. There’s human’s who are sent here to repent their sins, a lot of the creatures and hybrids feast on them. Werewolves and vampires are the worst, we have those in our reality too, they are aggressive, dangerous cannibals who feast on people and kill them. Of course, the werewolves and vampires here take care of those who are criminals. Quite often the ones sent here are either humans who commit serious crimes that they get put into life imprisonment or death row. We also have monsters who fight amongst themselves sent here. This is basically a training ground for a lot of people who are supernatural. We only stay here for a coupe of years and then we go back to the reality we are from. Originally, Yoongi was going to be sent to the 2nd reality to purge it, it is a hell reality, everything burns there, everything is crime and corruption. Of course, that would have been an awful place for us to be seeing as we’re weak to fire after all.” Jimin was rambling, his head now on your thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair, petting down the stray hairs that always seemed to stick up around his face.

“Well, if we’re weak to fire, what actually are our powers and what exactly am I doing here? How long will I be here?” you were looking around the cave, the water placing you in a trance as your eyes focused and unfocused on the shapes beneath it.

“Well, our skin is like that of a fish, of course when we are in our human form it doesn’t look like it or feel like it, but it definitely still is. You will notice that you’re now comforted when you are in the water, in fact if you really need to you can actually manipulate the water, nothing intricate, we can’t make patterns or anything but we can make ripples, waves, if we work together in groups we can even cause tsunamis. The ocean is where we are the strongest. I read a few books that say that if we meet another being, we can give them the ability to breath underwater which is obviously one of our strengths. Fire burns us severely, even the slightest touch will scald our skin and burn us, fire will kill us 3 times faster than it will kill anything else. When we sing, we attract others, they become enchanted by the sounds of our voices and we can lure them in, make them fall in love with us. I’ve done so with many girls, that’s why I have a bit of a reputation,” His voice trailed off at the end, his tone turning into a cheeky, playful tone that had you chuckling slightly. The small, adorable guy who was currently half asleep on your lap did not seem like he could be seducing anyone. His cheeky, lazy smile put doubt into you when I t came to his adorable clingy personality and you were sure that he could be a scary person when needed.

“I highly doubt that you are luring any women in with this clinginess Jimin, plus I haven’t sung a day in my life, nor will I, I sound like a trampled cat when I sing and it really isn’t pleasant,” Your voice was full of laughter and playfulness, mimicking his tone. The fever you had been burning up in had since disappeared and Yoongi explained that it was because he dumped you straight into the water as soon as you got here and you had transformed into your mermaid body, the reason behind the cuts, bruises and scrapes across your legs. You had not remembered anything because apparently it had been excruciating and Jimin convinced Yoongi to erase your memory of the pain.

“Hey! I lure plenty of women in I’ll have you know,” Jimin mumbled. You gazed down at him, a loud laugh escaping your mouth as his cheeks burned bright pink. He was half asleep, a huge smile of his face as your fingers continued carding through your hair.

“Y’know, both of us were left with parent’s that knew what we’d become, they’re humans who come from special families, protectors, they take in orphaned supernatural children and babies. I hated them when I first went there, I was 6, I understood what was going on, I wouldn’t talk to them, I lashed out, I did not want to be there. I wanted to go back to you, I wanted my little sister, I’ve known all these years that I had a sister, that I couldn’t contact her, that there was a little girl out there who needed me and I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t try hard enough, I’m a fai-“

“shut up. Do not talk like that Jimin. You couldn’t have done anything, we were separated for a reason, I didn’t know you existed, I was always protected, I never had problems. I used to be different you know, I used to be cheerful and naïve, I had someone in my life, an older brother figure, he protected me. Sure, he betrayed my trust but because of that I became careful, I stopped trusting people, I can analyse people, I closed myself off. Of course, he came back, and he’s kept his promise to this day, but I think something is weird about him. I think he’s like us, he disappears once a month for like a week or so and then he comes back always in a good mood and happy and he’s really athletic, strangely so, he’s really protective as well,” You were rambling, your brain trying to process that Seokjin may be something other than human. That everyone in your life might be more than human.

“He’s not like us, sounds like a werewolf to me,” Jimin sounded angry, his jaw clenching and unclenching to calm himself down, his fingers gripping his sweatpants.

“No way. You said that werewolves are nasty, evil creatures. Seokjin is lovely, he taught me to ride a bike, he took me to my first swimming lesson, he even spoke to my boyfriend when he embarrassed me and broke up with me in front of the whole school,” Your fingers had stilled in his hair, instead resting them on his forehead. Jimin let out a breathy laugh,

“Then he had an ulterior motive, he must have known about you being a mermaid, there is no way he’d do that purely for care for you. He knows more than he is giving up. Also, let me guess, you never saw that guy ever again?” Jimin was looking up at you, dark brown eyes shimmering, luminescent flecks lighting up his iris.

“Well no, I didn’t actually. That’s not like Seokjin, why would he use me for something like that, I knew him for 18 years, you know, I’ll bet that the years that he was gone was because he was here.” Your words were unsure and Jimin’s eyes were scanning over your face, a small pout set on his lips.

“Y/N, you don’t even believe what is coming out of your mouth right now. Anyway, I am sleepy, and I’d rather not sleep now, I’d like to be asleep and not out and about at night because I do not want an encounter with a vampire thank you very much.” Jimin was stretching his legs, raising himself to his feet, stretching his hand out to help you stand up with him. You stood with a groan, your legs protesting, knees feeling as though they were splitting in half from having been crossed for so long.

“How about I teach you how to change into your mermaid form, I mean, we only have a few hours of day light left and if you turn at night, you become a siren, not a mermaid. I’ve never seen one in person, but I’ve heard many rumours, apparently its not pretty, sorry Y/N.” Jimin had a big grin on his face, his previous radiant, happy attitude coming right back.

“You know what, I’d love that.” You smiled, your eyes looking around the cave, then down at your legs, wiggling your toes, patting the slightly damp floor of the cave with the sole of your foot. Your eyes flitted back up to meet Jimin’s.

“I have no idea how this works,” You chuckled, a nervousness creeping into your belly, he laughed and raised his hands above his head, intertwining his fingers and stretching them high above his head, leaning from side to side and then straight down, his hands touching the floor, his body surprisingly flexible.

“Well, first you’re going to need to be naked, there’s no way you can do it with clothes on. I won’t look, I promise, although, it’s not like I haven’t seen a naked woman before you know, and it’s not weird because all the mermaids have to see each other naked and also you’re my sister so I wont look at you in that way.” Jimin was laughing as he spoke, probably a reaction to the disgusted face you were giving him. You shook your head and pursed your lips.

“Definitely not, you need to close your eyes, then I’ll take my clothes off.” You told him, your voice pointed, echoing against the humid grey walls. He nodded his head and turned around, pulling his sweatpants down and jumping into the water, swimming a few feet away and keeping his back to you. You stood still for a moment, ensuring he was not going to turn around and embarrass you. Once he had been facing away from you for a few moments you began to undo your bikini top. Your brain suddenly remembered the words Yoongi had told you.

“Wait. Yoongi said that when I got here, he put me in the water and I transformed, does that mean that I was naked, and he put me back into my bikini?” You mumbled, cheeks heating up as you gripped the material of your bikini top in your hands. You saw Jimin shrug, his shoulders tucking into his neck as he raised his arms up in the air.

“when I got here, you were dressed but you definitely couldn’t have transformed with your clothes on. That’s one thing that Grandma made sure I never did.” He sounded bored and you quickly pushed your bottoms down your legs, stepping out of them and slowly lowering yourself into the water. You sighed as the pain in your legs seemed to disappear, the water seeping into your wounds as the water sparkled and the cuts, grazes and nicks in your skin seem to vanish slowly.

“erm, what’s happening to my legs?” You mumbled, your jaw hanging low as shock set into your body,

“Oh, well this water has been here for years, it’s connected to the sea of life, who even knows I don’t understand it either, this is the only body of water that does that, even the rest of the sea of life doesn’t do that,” He was smiling, you could tell by his tone. His hands clapped together as he mumbled a small ‘right then’ under his breath.

“okay, you need to picture your tail in your head. Close your eyes and imagine a fish, it is a beautiful, shiny fish, it is sparkling and swimming freely, zooming through the sea, it is happy, content with its life. Feel the water graze over its fins, it is warm, flowing in and out of coral and then, it becomes a human, with a beautiful, long tail.” His words are painting an exact picture into your head. You picture an emerald green fish, the colour of Jimin’s tail with golden colouration around its tail. It swam, shining, weaving between rocks, coral and other large fishes around it. The fish became engulfed by a bright light as a sharp shooting pain engulfed your legs and you could hear a faint voice.

“Keep focused, ignore the pain, focus on the fish,”

The bright light faded into a yellow hue, shortly replaced by a turquoise wave that seemed to break directly into your face before the wave disappeared. Small bubbles spread out in the water, a woman with beautiful green hair had her back to you, golden scales over her hips and waist, a large expanse of her back was clear, beautiful skin, the skin merging with the scales on the small of her back. Your eyes moved down to where her legs should have been, the golden scales faded into a beautiful emerald green, the gold returning down the sides of her beautiful, long tail. The bottom fin of her tail was a completely translucent golden colour, shimmering inside of the water. The fin was long, at least a half the size of the tail, split down the middle, two sides forming two curved, soft scalene triangle shapes that fluttered inside the water.

“you did it!”

Your eyes shot open, staring ahead of you. You felt the same, completely normal.

“No, I didn’t. I feel the same,” You mumbled, disappointment sinking into your features. Jimin laughed and shook his head, flicking his emerald tail as he swam towards you, reaching his hands out to grab at your feet, your arms stretch out behind you to balance yourself on the rocks behind you. His eyes glistened a brilliant green as they stared down at your tail.

Tail.

“oh my god! I did it!” You were screaming, the noise bouncing off the walls, a musical symphony piercing your ears, your eyes widened as you heard it, sending chills down yours and Jimin’s spines. You looked down at yourself, the beautiful gold and emerald tail you had seen in your mind was yours. Your chest was a translucent, shiny golden colour, it wasn’t scaly like your tail but more like the skin of a frog, glistening and smooth, your breasts completely covered in the golden colouring.

“Wow, this is amazing,” You laughed, a loud, airy laugh as you wiggled your tail out of Jimin’s grasp

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starspatter · 5 years

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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 10

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 6,244 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Also on ff.net and AO3.

All of my heroes sit up straight They stare at the ground, they radiate Me, I'm mumbling in the kitchen for the sun to pay up Lonely is a ring on a cold coffee cup I'm some sick hound, digging for bones If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

-Gregory Alan Isakov, "Second Chances"

Then.

“There, that should do. It doesn’t seem like you have a concussion, so I don’t think you need to go to the hospital. Still, let us know if you feel any lightheadedness.”

Stephanie’s mom, as it turned out, was a registered nurse at West Mercy General. As she kindly administered first aid to Tim’s forehead, he was vaguely reminded of Alfred’s aged but careful hands working magic on his wounds – albeit without the exasperated tone the butler often took with him, tutting as he admonished and applied gauze with gentle firmness, enveloping bandages like a snug cocoon. (“Honestly, Master Tim. Must you be so needlessly reckless? That goes for you too, Master Bruce. If I may be so bold, cleaning up after these kinds of messes was quite frankly not part of my initial job description.”)

Meanwhile, Steph hovered, enthusiastically recounting the events of the evening – though in his own humble opinion she was embarrassingly embellishing his heroics somewhat. (…At least she conveniently left out the part where he almost beat a guy to death, much to his tremendous relief.)

“And then that dude pulled out a knife, but Tim just knocked him down like that- pow! It was awesome.”

Tim felt his face growing hot from the amount of praise being heaped upon him – especially considering in the end he still had to have his butt saved (by a girl no less).

“…It was nothing, really.”

She looked at him with eyes shining.

“Seriously, you were really cool back there. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging.

“I just did what felt natural, I guess. Most of it was luck, really. Must’ve been the adrenaline.”

A look of slight disappointment crossed her face.

“Yeah? Too bad, I was hoping maybe you could teach me those moves.”

“I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one night,” Mrs. Brown declared as she put a hand around her daughter’s bouncing curls, kissing her brow. “I’m just glad you’re all right, dear.” She turned to Tim with an indebted expression. “I truly can’t thank you enough. If there’s anything else I can do…”

“Ah, you’ve already done more than enough, thanks. I’m just happy to have been able to help. …Anyway, I should probably get going now.”

The older woman looked somewhat alarmed.

“Surely you don’t intend to walk back home by yourself again at this hour? It’s late; you’ve just been attacked by a bunch of hoodlums, and suffered a head injury on top. Why don’t you just stay here for tonight?”

It was Tim’s turn to balk at risky suggestion.

“N- no, I couldn’t do that.”

“Nonsense, it’s the least I can do to repay you. Tomorrow’s Saturday, you don’t have classes to be at, right? So then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

There was a big problem (perhaps more than one, he thought as he glimpsed over at Stephanie, who seemed to be concealing an amused grin as she eagerly watched him squirm). But of course he couldn’t say the real issue that was troubling him.

“I don’t want to impose…”

“It’s not an imposition,” she insisted. “Now, is there someone I can contact to let them know you’re safe and you’ll be spending the night? A parent or guardian, perhaps?”

“Really, it’s okay. I can just ask my brother to come pick me up…”

Speak of the devil, Tim’s cell phone started to buzz. He fished it out to find there were four missed calls and seven unread messages from Dick. He must not have noticed it going off in all the commotion. Swallowing, he dragged the screen across to answer and raised the receiver to his ear:

“Hey.”

“Finally. I was beginning to get worried sick. Where the hell are you?”

“I’m… at Stephanie’s house.”

There was a beat.

“…Wow, you work fast, huh? Way to go, you stud. You should’ve just told me that’s what you were after.”

“It’s not like that,” he hissed, trying hard not to look at either Stephanie or her mother – especially the latter. “You have to come and get me.”

“Why? What happened?”

At this moment, Mrs. Brown interjected as she respectfully reached out.

“May I speak with him?”

Tim hesitated, then submissively surrendered the phone.

“Hello? This is Stephanie’s mother. Am I speaking with Tim’s brother?”

Tim could only listen helplessly to her half of the conversation as she described the circumstances in great detail, slouching defeated into the couch cushions.

“Yes, they’re both okay, don’t worry. Tim received a minor scrape to his scalp, but I’ve stopped the bleeding and given him some topical antibiotic treatment. He should be fine, I expect it to fully heal within a few weeks so long as he keeps the dressing on. I’d like to observe him overnight though for any signs of concussion, if that’s all right.”

After some more nodding back-and-forth, she handed him back the mobile.

“You did a good thing tonight. I’m proud of you, kid.”

“Dick…”

“We’ll talk more about it later. For now, just try to relax and enjoy, okay? Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Dick, wait!”

“Have fun on your playdate~”

The other end hung up, and Tim glowered at the dead cellular in disgust. Gulping, he turned to the expectant two.

“He… gave permission for me to stay.”

“Sweet,” Steph chirped. “So long as you don’t mind the sofa.”

Her mother shot her a disapproving look.

“Kidding. We’ve got a spare mattress.”

As Mrs. Brown packed away the medical kit, she asked:

“Are you kids hungry? You must be famished, after what you’ve been through. I can whip something up real quick.”

Tim was about to politely protest, but Stephanie bounded up in keen agreement.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Dinner” then consisted of microwaved leftover chicken and mashed potatoes. Tim remained reticent during the meal as Stephanie prattled on next to him, thankfully dominating most of the discussion with random topics such as gymnastics and school and how lame their professor was, so he didn’t have to deal with too many prying questions from the clearly curious parent in the room. He poked at the taters with his fork, honestly not having much appetite, but under both women’s watchful eyes he forced himself to finish it all as a show of courtesy. As soon as he exhausted one pile though, his plump hostess happily served a second round of helpings onto his plate.

“Eat up, young man. You’re all skin and bones. Honestly, what do they feed you at that school?”

Eventually he managed to convince that he’d had enough and couldn’t possibly eat another bite. (Seriously, he was afraid he really would throw up if he did.) Afterwards, he volunteered to help do the dishes, but Stephanie’s mother shook her head, adamantly declining the offer.

“Don’t be silly, you’re our guest. Although I do appreciate such good manners, your parents must have taught you well. Perhaps you could stand to learn a thing or two from him, young lady.”

Stephanie stuck her tongue out in a semi-playful way, but obediently joined her summoner at the sink. Tim perceived her nudge the woman’s sleeve and lean over to intimate something in her ear, casting a surreptitious squint back at him. While their voices were kept low, he was still well-versed enough in lip reading to make out what they were saying (though he likely could’ve figured from body language and context alone). In summary: Ix-nay on the arents-pay.

“Oh, I see,” her mother hushed sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend him.”

Tim exhaled, definitely regretting his decision to be persuaded into staying here. The last thing he wanted was to cause these hospitable folks any discomfort – as much as the other way around.

As Stephanie dried and sorted the silverware away into drawers, Mrs. Brown opened another cupboard and retrieved a long, flat box. As she returned back from the counter, Tim distinguished that it was an old-fashioned form of entertainment Alfred often used to try and interest him in, although he was always too antsy to bother sitting still long enough to learn the rules, instead scoffing and slithering off at the first opportunity to go play video games (or better yet, do some physical training exercises down in the cave).

“Friday nights are traditionally game nights at our house,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she wiped her hands with a towel before placing it back on the rack. “Mom, I’m sure he doesn’t want to spend time doing something as boring as play some dumb board game.”

“No, it’s all right.” Tim could hardly believe he himself was saying this, but… “I- I’d like to give it a try.”

So that was how he ended up playing Scrabble at the Browns’ kitchen table. Fortunately the instructions were fairly simple to follow (at least it wasn’t Clue, thank God). In fact he could’ve handily won had he taken full advantage of point availability at times, but purposefully stayed his hand, letting either of present company claim vocabular victory.

As he clacked tiles quietly onto the empty spaces, grooved wood feeling cool and smooth in his fingers, he snuck nervous peeks at his opponents across from him – particularly Steph’s scrunched in concentration as she rearranged words on her rack – racking lexicon for all possible combinations. The elder Brown didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the match either, watching both of them with an amiable smile. It made Tim supremely self-conscious as he lowered his head further.

This was… weird. Really weird. The whole situation was weird. …Weird, but nice.

Too nice.

A part of him couldn’t help but feel like a mistake had been made somewhere. He didn’t belong here, in this nice house and nice kitchen – cramped but cozy – with such nice people who were so gladly willing to share what little they had with him. Doing the kinds of normal things normal “families” typically did together. Something in him screamed he didn’t deserve this, that it was all just a trick, an illusion – no matter how hard he tried to shut it up. He didn’t even dare to blink, terrified that when he opened his eyes he’d be back in that suffocating room, with “Mommy” and “Daddy” looming over him…

He wanted to run away.

Steph’s mom glanced at the wall clock after the game, which her offspring had won easily. (“Man, you guys weren’t even trying, were you?” she pouted over hollow triumph upon calculating the disparate totals, oddly dissatisfied with overwhelming success.) Noting the time, their tuckered chaperone thus determined with a yawn they ought to start tucking in for the night.

“Steph sweetie, why don’t you go set up the guest bed?” She bolstered Tim’s shoulder as she stood up, again denying him to assist in clearing the table. “You two go on ahead. I’ll clean up here, and find something else for you to change into.”

They left whilst she started collecting tiles together, and Tim timidly trailed after Stephanie as she led back to the living room. She allowed him to lend a hand at least with rolling out the foldaway bed from the closet and spreading sheets over it.

“You and your mom seem to get along pretty well.”

Tim murmured in a clumsy attempt to make small talk.

“Things haven’t always been this way,” she replied as she tugged at the corners. “We’ve had our share of differences and disagreements in the past. We’re both working real hard to keep a close relationship now though. After all, you do what you can for family, right? In the end, we’re all each other’s got.”

She halted, hand over her mouth as she realized she’d breached her own established rule on bringing up sensitive subject.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” He’d raised the taboo topic himself after all. “I don’t mind.”

Steph hastily tried to steer the dialogue away anyway.

“Thanks, you know, for earlier. …Although I bet I probably could’ve taken them on by myself,” she added with a half-humorous grin.

Tim scoffed mildly.

“Right. Sure.”

“Hey, you saw me with those bricks,” she sniffed in indignation. “I could’ve handled it.”

He winced, recognizing that old catchphrase he himself used to boast whenever some other senior superhero had to swoop in to his rescue, especially back when he was just starting out as a newbie.

“Seriously though, thanks again for saving my butt back there. I owe you one.”

“Same to you. I guess you could call it even?”

“Fair ‘nuff. …You know, we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Y- yeah.”

Their eyes met, connecting across the bedding – and Tim was the first to flush red and brusquely break contact, revolving away in panic when Stephanie’s mother suddenly walked in with oh-so-impeccable timing.

“Oh my, am I interrupting something in here?”

“No, Ma,” Stephanie drolled as she innocently fluffed the pillow.

“Hm…”

Mercifully, Mrs. Brown made no additional comment as she proffered Tim a pair of plain pajamas.

“These were my late husband’s, so they might be a bit big on you. I hope you don’t mind wearing them, though if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“You could always borrow some of my clothes,” Stephanie piped up as she elbowed Tim with a wink, which only made him shrink violet more.

“N- no, this is fine.”

“All right then. Bathroom’s down the hall, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink. Let us know if you need anything else, we’ll both be upstairs.”

Stephanie waved to Tim as she merrily bid adieu.

“G’night! See you in the morning!”

This time, he at least made an effort to reciprocate the gesture.

“…Goodnight.”

…

He couldn’t sleep.

He knows, that the moment he closes his eyes, he’ll see that whitewashed face staring back at him. Laughing, always laughing. Drenched in wet dripping blood, from his own clamped and clammy fist as it pounds, pulverizes. …Hear clear shot ringing out, the agonized shout as stone arrow pierces purple heart, decorating fallen soldier with red and yellow colored flag. Head and heart hammering. Hurting. Hating – himself.

Sometimes he’ll remember it differently. The Joker, wrapped – trapped – in wire pythons, entangling himself within the coiled cords. He stretches out, slips, shrieks like a banshee as he accidentally yanks out lifeline on his own accord. Like karma itself removed rug and wind – whoopee cushion – from beneath him. And Tim can’t tell whether it’s his mind making up alternate experience – excuse – to exonerate his conscience. But there’s something so sweetly gratifying about the way sparks fly like firework cannons and marionette body writhes in spiderweb’s strings, and maybe that feeling frightens him even more, but either way it all comes back to that dead, dead smile…

He sat up and slowly slid to the edge of the comforter, huddling and hugging knees for comfort. After a minute, he stood up and staggered towards the bathroom, filling basin with water as he dunked his whole head in for the second time today. Holding breath and counting deliberately to 10. He lifted and splashed invigorating coldness a couple more times before dabbing dry. Trying his best not to be sick; scared shitless of his own damn shadow. Smothering terror in terrycloth, trembling more than terra firma ever did.

As he gazed at his grim reflection in the mirror, praying for gray ghost’s silhouette to go away – resist the urge to punch and puncture glass, splinter and smash (his own) killer sneer leering back at him – his dull concentration gradually fell upon the latch to the side. A sense of sheer desperation overtook him as he curiously creaked open the medicine cabinet, anxiously seeking any sort of anodyne to ameliorate stress; preferably some kind of thought suppressant – if not full-on sedative. …This was wrong. So wrong. Stealing was wrong. Murder was wrong. But he couldn’t control himself as he shakily picked up the nearest prescription bottle (ascertaining by lack of load it was likely nearly empty) and examined the label…

“Can I help you with something?”

Of all the stupid, idiotic, moronic, dumbass things he’d ever done in his entire life… Forgetting to close and lock the door no doubt qualified as a competitive runner-up.

He whirled around to find Mrs. Brown within the entryway, garbed in fuzzy green bathrobe and slippers, with stern arms severely crossed as she took in the immoral image of him standing there scarlet-handed. Looking almost more disappointed – crushed – than cross. …He’d be disappointed in himself too, if he invited someone into his home – nursed and fed and clothed – treated like a decent, worthy human being – and this was how they repaid him. He tried – too late – to hide the pill container behind his back, which he remorsefully recognized only made things look worse.

“I- I couldn’t sleep. I just thought- I wasn’t trying to-” He choked on rueful disgrace, dropping view and dignity to the floor. “…I’m sorry. If you want me to leave, I understand. Just please don’t tell Stephanie or my brother about this.”

He said that, but there were even bigger ramifications at stake. Was she going to call the police? That meant Barbara would be there – oh God, how to explain. Would she even believe him? She’d have to cover for him again – would she even be willing this time?

As he cowered and kowtowed, imploring before interrogator, her wrinkled countenance softened slightly at the mention of her daughter’s name. His repentance did sound deeply genuine. …And perhaps all too familiar.

She released respiration, unlocking limbs and insinuating in pockets instead.

“…You seem like a nice boy. One who’s made a mistake but both acknowledged and apologized for it. I’d hate to have to send you away and break Steph’s heart. She certainly seems rather fond of you after all.” She gave him a gauging scan, scathing yet searching for signs of redemption. “…Whatever your intentions are towards her, you saved her life tonight. For that I’m forever grateful.”

Still refusing to accept her regard, he shook his head.

“I only… did what anyone else would do. It was just fortunate I happened to be there at the right time…”

He flinched as she tentatively tapped an encouraging clap on his shoulder, still shuddering in dread at dominant touch.

“Don’t sell yourself short. What you did was very brave. …I see a lot of things in my line of work, especially in this city. You prevented her from becoming another statistic. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost my precious baby girl. I almost did once before, I’m not about to let that ever happen again.”

Her eyes flicked subtly towards the weight of sobering secret in his clasp, and he surmised from the shameful sorrow echoed in them that perhaps she wasn’t only speaking in the literal. Discerning his grip tauten, she placed her other paw over his clenched knuckles, tenderly prying cylinder away from them.

“Why don’t we put this back now, hm?”

She began to restore the low strength painkiller substitutes to the shelf – a crutch for overcoming her own past narcotic addiction she hadn’t had to rely on in ages, having successfully kicked habit to the curb with combined counseling and dedicated support from her daughter. It had been a long, arduous road to recovery, but over many months of struggle she’d managed to mostly taper off detox medication, only keeping in case of intense relapse cravings or emergency post-acute withdrawal symptoms. A small, constant reassurance in the back of her brain, that at least (temporary) respite was always there. …Upon second thought though, she removed the few remaining tablets and did what she herself should have done a long time ago, per proper disposal recommendation (or rather regulation): Flushed them straight down the toilet.

“Come, let’s talk more in the kitchen.”

He meekly obeyed, tailing with tail between his legs. She bade him sit, and he slumped into the stool, stooping like a naughty child sent to the principal’s office as she put a pot of water on the stove. She remained with her back to him in silence for a minute, monitoring for the first evidence of boiling so she could switch off the heat and transfer kettle right before it began to whistle, cautiously avoiding any racket loud enough to wake the other individual upstairs.

“Tea, hon?” she inquired as the poured the liquid into two cups with (cheap) store-bought bags of herbs and leaves inside. “I find it always helps me relax and get to sleep, especially after I’ve been working many night shifts in a row.”

Tea. That was something else Alfred oft used to offer him, although at the time he vastly preferred the kinds of sugary soft drinks the elderly caretaker complained would surely rot his teeth someday. He eyed the mug half-suspiciously as she stirred and handed it to him, almost as if postulating there were poison in it. Gingerly, he took a calming sip of balmy ginger and lemon balm, savoring a hint of spicy cinnamon.

“…It’s good,” he admitted in response to her anticipation.

She beamed faintly, before carrying on with frank concern.

“I imagine it must have been tough, growing up without a consistent, complete set of parental figures to guide and provide for you. I don’t mean to presume anything about your life or reasons for such behavior, but I’m guessing you’ve had to learn to handle many things on your own the hard way. …My daughter almost went through that. She’s practically had to raise herself since she was a kid. I can only thank God – and her amazing will – that she turned out as wonderful as she did. She’s a strong survivor. Stubborn as a mule too, as I’m sure you’ve seen. I’m so proud of her you wouldn’t believe.”

She paused, sight sinking into her own drink.

“I confess I haven’t always been a model mother, been there for her when she needed me. …I might’ve even been where you are once, or at least in a similar place. It isn’t easy, I know. But, there is a better way. If you allow for those people who love you most to help. Your brother, for one. He seems to care about you quite a lot. He told me to call him right away if any… ‘complications’ came up.”

Tim groaned inwardly. So Dick didn’t trust him after all. He probably even foresaw something like this occurring.

“You know, when the earthquake hit Gotham, I thought to myself, ‘this is the really the end’. I wouldn’t get to tell Stephanie how much I loved her, how much she means to me, how much she’s helped me maintain hope. I made a decision then to change. I wanted to – really turn my life around – if not for myself, then for her. Parents are supposed to take care of their children, after all – be the fully responsible ones. …Though we’re not exactly perfect beings either. No one is. We all make our mistakes – sometimes sacrifices that cost us nearly all we have. …Even if in doing so for others’ sakes, we end up hurting them as well.”

She rose, resting a hand once again on his shoulder.

“But, that’s the importance of forgiveness. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you have to appreciate the people you have in your life, while you still have the chance. Warts and all. Everyone deserves a second chance. I’m grateful to the Lord every day that my girl gave me one.”

She patted peaceably.

“We can keep this between us for now. I hope you make the right decision when you confront Dick tomorrow though. In the meantime, try to get some sleep, son. You are still welcome to stay, if you wish.”

As she departed, Tim tiptoed after to the adjoining den again. At the margin of his periphery, he thought he caught a whisk of lavender socks vanishing behind the railing overhead (overheard?), as Mrs. Brown started up the stairwell, still holding hot beverage in hand.

“Goodnight, dear.”

He declined onto the bed again, swirling his own steaming drink. Thinking.

At length, he polished off the last drop and endeavored to lay back, contemplating the ceiling. Trying to sustain steady breathing and blank skull, clutching blankets close. Blinking back tiredness – and maybe some tears of reprieve.

…He must have drifted off at some point, because all of a sudden he finds himself back in the aftermath of the quake. Roaming the demolished streets, stench of blood and bodies buried underneath destruction – devastation – all around him. Moaning hands extend out, corpses clamoring, crawling towards him.

“Help us, Robin. Save us. Please.”

They latch onto his leg, and he vibrates them off, breaking into a run. Shoes slapping slick against asphalt, wet from recent rain. Rankness percolating through his soles, seeping into the very core of his soul. Petrichor turned putrid. Petrifying. Blocking his ears to drown out the din of wails and sirens, death and decay and despair in every direction.

He sees a kid, crying, crouched in front of a falling structure. Form framed by sunset, outline inflamed in ruby and gold. Blazing glory. Electrical lines crackling as they splinter and snap like stars above, one by one.

Someone has to save him. He was all alone. Where were his parents? Where was anybody? Why the hell was no one there to help him? Why was no one saving him?

He reacts, moves, dives – just in time – as the world comes crashing down around him. When he looks down at the bundle in his hands though, there’s just a tattered cape. He cradles, caresses it; turning it over from bright side to black, like the tarps used to shroud rotting carcasses.

He blinks as the cloth unravels, flag unfurling. Overflows and spills. He sees Annie instead, lying limp against his aching breast with deceased doll eyes, blooming wild and wide like a glass rose. She’s wilting, withering – melting in his arms. He tries to gather her up, reassemble the chipped fragments, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent. Preserve. Protect. He can’t save her. …He can’t save anyone, let alone himself.

The wading clay compresses, clinches his wrists – claiming what’s left of his consciousness. Rising up to his neck. Choking, enclosing in earthen prison as the sun blots out and it all goes completely dark, so dark. He beats against cavern walls and yells frantically at the top of his lungs, but no one can hear him.

A glow shines through. Too bright, too blinding. Lamps burn in his retinas, stinging spots. The only source of natural light is a round checkerboard window – patterned squares within tic-tac-toe circle – painted directly above him, staring out into space, at the bold sky where he couldn’t fly. He was grounded, wings clipped by a cackling madman as he and his colorful coconspirator – hooting cuckoos in cahoots – tighten belts, belting laughter.

But it’s okay. Because he’s been here before. Hands bound behind his back, glaring down Pukeface and his goons and their guns in defiance. Cheekily retorting a remark on his aggressor’s “charming good looks” when his cheek was harshly struck. He was no coward, not like his dad. Besides- he didn’t know it then like he does now, but Batman would come and save him. …Any minute now, his guardian angel would bust in through that curtain and kick Joker’s butt. And then he’d be sorry, for messing with Tim Drake. Robin. The Dynamic Duo. A perfect pair of eternal partners, best buds. Forever friends – family. For one would surely never rest until the other was found. They’d lay down their lives for each other. Batman would never let him down – not like his old man.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

After all, in their line of work, deathtraps were no big deal. Even Joker with a camera was nothing new. They’d both been captured once, strung up in chains like sitting ducks as the clown battered up a series of spiked cannonballs. Instructing his “kids” – an “all-star team” – to set up a camcorder to record their demise. For posterity.

“You don’t really think you’re going to pull this off, do you?”

“Yeah, I mean- considering your batting average.”

A car crushes next to him. He cringes, but remains unfazed as Joker readies the catapult again, aiming precisely at his two targets. Robin can’t let Batman see him sweat, be ruffled by small stuff like this. Robins weren’t scared of anything. He’s done his part by making a quippy pun that would make Nightwing proud, now it was up to the Dark Knight himself to do his stuff.

“A little fear is a good thing.”

Even as the doomed projectiles launch, he keeps his cool. Composure. Courage. …It’s okay, because Batman was right beside him. He’d think of something. He always does. Or maybe his new plug-powered pal would come charging dramatically to their aid in the bare nick of time, putting on flashy static show. There was always someone he could count on. Close comrades, brothers-and-sisters-in-arms – some no older than he was. In fact he looked forward to further team-ups with yet another promising young hero, show a more rudimentary rookie the ropes sometime. Shoot the breeze and hoops and grapples instead of guns, share in electrifying thrill. …Electricity was nothing to fear.

“I’m not… afraid.”

He repeats the phrase, a little more muted, less sure of himself this time.

Joker simply smiles as he adjusts the dial.

“You will be, my boy.”

…The lever goes down.

He screams.

…

Tim bolted upright, breathing heavily. It took a minute for him to comprehend his surroundings, attuning to unaccustomed accommodations. As he recalled where he was, who he was and what he was doing here, he drew knees in close to his chest, descending perspiring temple onto them. Soaked in adrenal secretions – submerged secrets – sticking to the layers as he rocked consolingly. Rapidly whispering verifiable facts to himself, reaffirming identity. Reality.

“My name is Timothy Jackson Drake. I’m a freshman in college. A normal kid – person – with a normal life. Currently I’m a guest at someone’s home. There’s nothing to be afraid of. No one can harm me here.”

He reiterated the mantra several times, reminding until rationality was fully swayed. Swaying back and forth.

As he settled down enough to cease metronomic movement, his resuming senses sharpened, picking up on a singed scent coming from the kitchen. …No mistake, it smelled like something was burning.

Leaping to his feet, he hurried to the open doorway, which was exuding smoke – whereupon he stumbled upon a scene of Stephanie and her mother arguing over a cast iron griddle as beeping began to blare above them.

“Mooom, you left the waffle iron on too long again.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

Stephanie sighed as she scratched at her bird’s-nest hair, having apparently yet to tame tangles by brushing bedhead. As Mrs. Brown rushed to scrape and salvage what she could, Steph hopped up on a chair to disarm the alarm. Still elevated after hushing detector, she detected the spectator’s peering peepers, warily watching from just beyond the bend of the doorframe –on the outside looking in. Like a little lost child, displaced waif – wavering and waffling on whether to enter. She grinned, announcing presence for him.

“Oh hey, good morning. Sorry for the noise. Did we wake you?”

He startled at abrupt address, shaking his head.

“Um, morning.”

“You want some waffles?” She jumped down to join her mom as she self-consciously served the scorched bread. “They’re a bit burnt though.”

Tim’s lids batted, taking in the battered buttermilk spread. Memory meanders, wandering back – to waking up in his dad’s tiny, trash-filled apartment, picking his way over broken beer bottles and crowded cans to the vacant table, where sometimes he’d find a scribbled note from his father stating he was off working another job for Two-Face and – if he were lucky – maybe some money to buy rations. More often than not there was nothing though, no rhyme or reason or explanation to disappearance. And he’d have to pour himself a bowl of cold cereal, or – if there weren’t any supplies left in stock and no cold cash allotted either – he’d have to forage for – filch food himself. Failing begging or burglary, in starving times he’d resort to even further filthy tactics by diving into dumpster bins, fighting desperately with rats and stray dogs and cats for every last scrap…

“…Hey, are you all right? It doesn’t still hurt anywhere, does it?”

He snapped out of stupor upon fretful inquiry.

“Huh? No, why do you ask?”

Stephanie and her mother exchanged uneasy looks.

“Then… How come you’re crying?”

“Eh?”

He hadn’t been aware of it, but there was water welling at the verge of his blurred vision, swimming with sentiment as what felt like a dam deep within started to crack, rupturing emotion. Repressed reverie surging to the surface.

“Ah, this is, um…” He swiftly swiped at his ducts with the bases of his palms, sniffling into loose sleeves. God, this was so humiliating. “It’s nothing.”

The streams wouldn’t stop though. He remembers. Sitting outside on the patio with Alfred and Dick as Bruce beamed proudly over a large, towering plate of pancakes he’d spent all morning trying to make, looking utterly ridiculous in his chef’s hat and apron ensemble (and for once his muddled psyche doesn’t relate to Joker sporting a similar getup), smock smeared with flour and batter stains (to match the many battle scars gained the night before). Himself and Dick giggling as they mimed furtive gagging motions to each other across the table, Alfred striving his best to retain a straight poker face as he politely asked to pass the syrup, later proposing that perhaps Master Bruce best leave the cooking to him from now on. Barbara would stop by in the afternoon once she made sure her dad was okay after his ordeal, and Tim would tell her all about the breakfast from hell whilst Dick sought to soothe a still moping Bruce’s bruised ego by making some joke about Eggo and Jemima he couldn’t recollect exactly, but it made Babs roll her eyes as she looked at all of them like they were crazy, before bursting out laughing. And he’s laughing now too between sobs, not because it’s funny – but because it’s been so damn long since he felt anything quite like this, and he wonders if it’s really okay for him to be this happy – so much that it hurts and he can’t breathe and has to brace himself by grasping the back of a chair, gasping for air. The rills rolls faster down his cheeks, turning to waterfall ribbons of tears as laughter leaks from his lungs in tumbling tidal waves; loosen and knot round his stomach again, wound tight like a tourniquet. Snowballing into a boulder at the bottom of his gut, before flaring, inflating and bubbling back up like a balloon, groundswell erupting at the seams. A liberating display of long-lost passion via paradoxical paroxysms, pure and puerile; almost intoxicating in its ignominy.

Stephanie surveyed these strange proceedings with growing apprehension.

“Maybe we really should take you to a hospital…”

“No,” Tim hiccupped, stabilizing himself. “I’m okay. Really.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He inhaled, and smiled. To be honest, he felt a lot better right now than he had in years. “…I was just reminded of something, sorry.”

Mrs. Brown serenely sat down.

“…Well then, if that’s settled. Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” Tim appreciatively concurred. “Please.”

Steph shrugged as she followed cue to forget oddity in favor of food, falling back into regular morning routine – up-tempo rhythm – as she chattered cheerfully between charred mouthfuls – an acquired taste she’d learned to build tolerance to by slathering in syrup. Sitting next to their less immune visitor, she watched as he took one delicate bite, snorting in amusement as he tried to cover up coughing. Teasingly, she pushed a significantly seared portion of the platter onto him while her mortified mother speared her evil eye.

Yet, he graciously took the blackened batch in stride and – to both their astonishment – managed to wolf it all down. In an even more astounding turn of events, not only had his appetite increased, but so had his level of contribution to conversation, energetic speech expanded in stark contrast to before (although still light by her incomparable lively standards). Basking in current companionship as he casually complimented on baking skills. And although they all subsequently share a chuckle – even the chef at her sheepish expense – like it’s intended as a jest; he really, truly, sincerely means it, from the bottom of his own blemished, broken heart that had itself been burned – branded – so many times before, but now felt like it was finally beginning to heal – if just a little bit. Like it had found some measure of peace at last, a place where he could maybe start to mend, pick up the shattered pieces and start again. …Like there was hope for a second chance.

…Because even though they’re brown and extra crispy and kinda rough around the edges, and taste a little like rubber charcoal – they’re by far the best goddamn waffles he ever had in his entire life.

I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind Oh my heart was all black, but I saw something shine Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine I could share it with you, if you gave me the time I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Crystal Brown #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #Happy Mother's Day~ <3 #another cookie to whoever gets all the references in this chapter ;O #btw I have no idea what's going on in the comics currently but YJ 5 was all kinds of adorbs #=3=b #(also I didn't cry while writing this nope)

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luluguardainofcreative · 6 years

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Cuphead: The Little Cala ch.5

“Mugs? Mugs?” Cuphead looked around the area where he and Mugman would catch butterflies throughout the years, he figured he might be here since the practice date was bust a for him.

He noticed there were balls of papers here and there as they seem to be making a trail behind one of the rocks. Cuphead could hear muttering as he picked up one of the paperballs The paper seemed to be a letter or a poem.

“So are these notes on what you want to say Mugs?” He could hear a sort of grunt or sigh from the rock giving him a chuckle. He went up to the rock sitting down next to his brother seeing a notebook and a pencil with more paper balls next to him. He could see this sad look on his brother’s face.

“I can’t even write what I want to say to her…” He said as he pulled out another piece of paper crumpling it into another ball and throwing it away. Cuphead patted his brother’s back as he took the notebook and pencil from him looking at the blank page. “Hmmm….well..have you tried writing a song?” Cuphead suggested to Mugman.

“A song?” Mugman asked. “I have thought about it, but...I can’t write them either.” Cuphead started to write something down. Mugman noticed this as he tried to grab the notebook from him.

“Cups no!” Cuphead stood up holding the notebook up in the air. “I’m helping you.” Cuphead said “and I’m just giving you a start.” Cuphead ran off a little beginning to read what he had written down.

“When I see you sitting across the waves, I may not have a lot to say to you but you don’t know how much I want to say to you.” Mugman was blushing and bubbling again as he tried to take the notebook away from his brother. Cuphead just happen to use some of the words he saw on one of the paper balls that his brother had thrown away.

“Honestly, you got something here, you can turn this into song.” Cuphead said to his brother. Mugman was still bubbling while the blush ran across his face become redder than cherries now.

“Cala sings a lot, so you should write a song for her and sing it to her!” Cuphead said as Mugman took the notebook from him. “What if she doesn’t like it…” He asked as Cuphead picked up all the paperballs he could carry into his arms, when they heard the sound of someone singing. Mugman knew that voice as he listen to it. Maybe Cuphead was right, maybe writing a song wasn’t a bad idea. “I wanna keep it a secret...to surprise her.” Mugman blushed as Cuphead smiled. “My lips are sealed.”

Cala Maria was singing to herself, her voice was carried by the wind. She was just sitting in the sun off the shore singing as she watched a group of fishes swim by her. “What would I give just to live out these waters..”

She sang a little louder when she noticed that docks seem a little crowded, the meteor shower was over and it made sense that people would be leaving back to their homes, then again King Dice was hanging around trying to make a living or was he just trying get people to gamble their souls away. After yesterday he should have left after showing her gorgon side.

“Ahyo Cala!” Cala looked to see Captain Brineybeard on his ship ready to go out to sea, his ship didn’t look like it’s chipper happy self when they go out to sea. Brineybeard’s ship was filled of tourists who came to watch the meteor shower as they all seem to be bickering or shouting at one another about their boat being late or never arriving. “Well this is a change for you?” Cala said as the ship gave out a loud sigh.

“Just because I have ship doesn’t mean I like giving landlubbers a ride!” He shouted at the top of his lungs ignoring all the people who were at his boat. Cala gave him a look as if she wanted to know the reason behind his kind act.

“A ship went to Davy Jones's locker and the captain couldn’t get a new ship in time to sail, so I was asked to make sure that these people get back home.” He groaned seeing some small children playing around the mace as if it were poll for those ribbon games kids would play at fairs.

“And there was no way you could get out of this?” Cala asked seeing how his anger was getting to him right now. Brineybeard started to shout at the kids telling them that the mace wasn’t a toy, of course Cala couldn’t help herself not to giggle at this scene.

“Can you watch the docks till I return?” He asked “I don’t know when I will return shore?” Cala noticed that not too far away that King Dice was in another game with a few locals playing the same game that Dice had set up as they gave him a few coins in the tin can.

She glared at him for a minute till looking at the pirate. “Sure, I’ll do what I can.” She reply to him as she gave his ship a small pat against its face. Brineybeard soon said thank you to her as he sailed off a little trying to stay calm. Cala swam up to the docks hiding to make sure King Dice didn’t see her.

“Step right up ladies and gentlemen, test your luck today.” King Dice called out as couple walk up to him. Cala wanted to make another splash like before but she didn’t want to ruin the couple’s day even if they happen to be on date. She could hear the girlfriend asking her boyfriend if they wanted to try their luck. “Well, all we have are these tickets to rent a boat for the lagoon for one night.” The boyfriend said to his lady.

Cala wondered what a boat ride would be like if she were able to fit in the boat and just enjoy that moment with Mugman, she blushed at the thought but she want to make sure King Dice wasn’t going to make this couple bet their souls. “Why don’t you bet those tickets, I’m sure I could use those for a date for my special someone.” He said sensing that Cala was nearby.

Maybe this was the bait he needed to use, if this didn’t work he needed to find something else.The couple set their tickets on the crate as King Dice set out the cards for the little game. Cala felt the pit of her stomach turn a little for the couple, she didn’t want to to be tempted to play and bet her soul again. She would not be trick again, no matter how many offers it would take she wouldn’t be in indebted again. It wasn’t long, but it seemed to be a lifetime for Cala when the couple seemed to have lost against Dice. The way they sounded it was as if they were okay with losing?

Did they not bet their souls? She knew that was too easy for them to win? Maybe the fact they won was because King Dice was nowhere near The Devil? “Well looks like that boat ride around the lagoon is off.” The Boyfriend said as King Dice was just ready to get them to bet their souls next.

“I hope your lucky someone enjoy the lagoon.” The girlfriend said taking her love’s hand into her own as they began to leave while Dice slipped the tickets into his pocket as his cards tried to take a look at them just to see what was on them.

“I know you’re here Cala Maria.” King Dice called out. “A man can’t make a living just by wandering around isles going through the trash.” Cala just ignored him refusing to hear him out, she made another wave at him, King Dice’s cards grabbed the tickets before the wave hit him.

Dice just let it happen seeing the shadow of Cala Maria swim off. The cards held up the tickets while King Dice looked for a towel to dry himself off.

“How are these tickets going to make Cala Maria gamble her soul?” Dice froze up a little to see The Devil leaning against one of the buildings’ wall in a disguise that Dice knew all too well.

The Devil wore what looked like an elderly goat man with cane to help him balance which had been a good way to fool someone like King Dice in the past.

“Temptations boss.” King dice replied when The Devil handed him a towel to dry himself off. “She can’t do a whole lot of nothing, it’s sink or swim for her.” King Dice commented as the cards played with tickets a little bit acting out what a boat ride would be like.

The Devil took the tickets feeling an idea forming again in his twisted mind while putting an arm around King Dice. “I see..all these romantic things she can’t do with Mugman, you’re getting these couples to bet all their so call plans…”

“And Cala Maria will sell her soul just to get a pair of legs.” King Dice finished. The Devil thought for a moment. The Devil let out a chuckle as Dice did the same. “I love how your twisted mind works.”

The Devil said laughing sitting down on one of the crates. The cards returned the tickets to Dice slipping them into his pocket. “Whatever works to get her and most of all Cuphead’s and Mugman’s souls.” They laughed as King Dice waited for the next couple to bet something.

----

@kyzer-aqueron Mugman, remain calm, she’s going to be fine. I don’t want a fight happening too soon.

uphead © StudioMDHR

#Cuphead #mugman #king dice #the devil #cala maria #cuphead fanfic #calaxmugman #the little cala

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dogopower · 3 years

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Satan, Prince of This World

THE DEVIL, THE WORLD AND THE FLESH

Because lies and deceits are the stock-in-trade of those who direct the World Revolutionary Movement (W.R.M.) AT THE TOP, never, since history began to be recorded, has a grant been made by governments, educational institutions, so-called charitable foundations or other sources of wealth and power to enable historians to compile an accurate, documented history of the World Revolutionary Movement (W.R.M.). Unable to finance the help necessary to do a thoroughly satisfactory job (which would require at least ten more years of study and research) necessary to prove to the hilt the knowledge I have acquired trying to find the answer to the question, “Why is it that the Human Race cannot live in peace, and thus enjoy the blessings and bounties God has provided for our use and pleasure in such abundance?” I offer what evidence I have been able to obtain to prove that what we term W.R.M. is nothing more or less than the continuing Luciferian revolt against the RIGHT of God to exercise Supreme Authority over the Entire Universe.

Many historians, including such outstanding students as Mrs. Nesta Webster; Count De Poncin; Copin- Albancelli; (Copon P.O. Copin C.J.) Dom Paul Benoit; Ed. Em. Eckert; Arthur Preuss; Domenico Margoitta; Witchl; His Eminence the Most Rev. Cardinal Caro Rodriguez; Don Bell, of Palm Beach, Florida, and many others seem to have been unable to connect the wars, revolutions and general chaos prevailing in this world today, with the fact that the Holy Scriptures, the inspired Word of God, tell us clearly and plainly that when God decided to inhabit this earth of ours with human beings, Satan arrived in the Garden of Eden to cause our first parents to defect from God. He accomplished his purpose, despite the fact that God had walked with them and talked with them in the early paradise we call Eden, explaining to them His plan for the rule of the entire universe, and telling them how He wished them to live for a period of time on this earth to prove they honestly loved Him and earnestly desired to serve Him voluntarily for ALL eternity out of respect for His infinite perfections.

Study of the history of comparative religions proves that even the most primitive nomads and sephardic tribes not only believed that other worlds existed before the “Supreme Being” created this world, but proves positively that what some of us call the “uncivilized” tribes (who existed by hunting, fishing, and gathering wild fruits of the earth, before human beings began to cultivate the soil and breed animals so they could be used for productive purposes), believed that at some time, in some place, before God decided to create this earth, there had been a revolution originated because one of the creatures God created challenged His right to exercise Supreme authority over the entire Universe.

Because this aspect of the origin of the W.R.M. would fill many bulky volumes, it is sufficient for our purpose to state that this basic principle of “religious” belief was shared by the aborigines. W Schmidt, author of Der Ursprung des Gottesides, has had seven volumes published. (Munster i.W 1912-1940). Volume VIII was in the press at the time this book was being written, i.e., 1958, and volumes IX to XIII are still in manuscript form. He is considered to be the greatest authority on this subject, and Fr. Schmidt distinguishes the primitive people of this world as the “Urkulturen,” e.g., those who lived by gathering food, and hunting fowl, fish, and game from the “Primarkulturen,” who developed from the former into producers by becoming tillers of the soil and breeders of animals. The people we call aboriginals today are the remnants of human society which never developed beyond the Urkulturen stage.

Fr. Schmidt does not intend that the word “Urkulturen” means the civilizations with which he deals are identical with the original civilization of the human race. He uses it to mean the most ancient type of civilization our means of investigation and research can reach.

Fr. Schmidt divides what remains of the “Urkulturen,” i.e., primitive civilizations, into three groups; (1) The Southern, comprising several tribes, (Aboriginals) in southeastern Australia, (2) The Central, comprising the pygmies and pygmoids in Africa and southeastern Asia, including Ceylon, the Andaman Islands and the Philippines, and (3) The Northern, or Arctic-Americans, whose representatives are also found in northern Asia and disseminated among the Esqumaux and American Indians.

All of these so-called uncivilized human beings share the fundamental belief that (1) Before this world was created other worlds existed, (2) at some time, before the Supreme Being created this world, a revolution had occurred in the celestial world (Universe), caused by the fact that some of the Creator’s creatures had challenged His right to exercise Supreme authority over the entire universe, (3) that, as a result of this revolt against the absolute supremacy of the Creator (God), the Universe was divided into “Good” and “Evil” parts, (4) that the Evil Spirits tried to interfere with God’s work while He was actually engaged in creating this world, (5) that ever since this world was finished these evil forces have been at work trying to prevent human beings from doing the Will of God, (6) that it was the representative of the leader of the heavenly revolt who brought death, sickness and ALL other EVILS to the Human Race because he deceived our first parents into defecting from God.1

1 The author is indebted to Mr. Richard M. Passil, Poughkeepsie, NY, who sent him a copy of the book Satan, published by Sheed and Ward. Readers wishing to go more deeply into this aspect of the W.R.M. would do well to read this book.

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frederickwiddowson · 4 years

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The writings of Luke the physician starting with his version of the gospel - Luke 11:1-12 comments: a model prayer to go by

Luke 11:1 ¶ And it came to pass, that, as he was praying in a certain place, when he ceased, one of his disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples. 2 And he said unto them, When ye pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth. 3 Give us day by day our daily bread. 4 And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. 5 And he said unto them, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; 6 For a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him? 7 And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee. 8 I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth. 9 And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. 10 For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. 11 If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? 12 Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? 13 If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?

In a great passage on prayer one of Jesus’ disciples asks a logical question about how His followers should pray. Jesus replies with a model that starts with identifying to whom you are praying, God the Father in Heaven. He then praises the Father and prays that the name of God be hallowed, holy, set apart. Of course, in our world His name is all too often used as a curse word with no reverence or respect with even Christians using substitutes for God and Jesus Christ like gosh, golly, and gee whiz. I heard a child once say that when you love someone their name is safe in your mouth. Using God’s name flippantly as a curse word or exclamation does not show love at all, of course.

Jesus then tells the disciple to pray for the kingdom of God, the kingdom of Heaven, to arrive on earth, to be fulfilled, and that God’s will, clearly His perfect, directive will rather than just permission, be done on earth as it is in Heaven. He then brings the prayer down to asking for God to supply daily needs. In history, for the common man at least, hunger and starvation were constant threats, as well as the disease that consumed a body weakened by day-in and day-out hunger. When Jesus was giving the great sermon popularly called ‘The Sermon on the Mount’ He noted;

Matthew 6:25 ¶ Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? 26 Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? 27 Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? 28 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: 29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? 31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? 32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. 33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. 34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

After asking for what was needed in that day Jesus told the disciple to pray for their sins against God to be forgiven in the same manner that they forgave sins committed against them. This rather radical statement says that we are not worthy to have our sins forgiven if we are not willing to forgive others. Peter questioned such a command.

Matthew 18:21 ¶ Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? 22 Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.

Certainly, the nature of our forgiveness is a little different than God’s due to our finite and weak position. When God forgives He restores fellowship with Him. We dare not always do that. The shop-owner who forgives the cashier who stole money from them would be an idiot to put that person back on the cash register if the person was even kept in the employment at all. They might forgive the person and wish them no harm but dismiss them from their job for prudence sake.

In the same respect if a person in a position of trust and authority harms a child sexually or physically in some other manner it is possible to forgive them but it is never acceptable to ever let them be in a position of trust and authority again where they can hurt children. And, if the offender were a Christian they would never want to be put in that position again or ask to be.

So, our forgiveness does not always involve restoration although it could. A spouse may forgive an adultery and restore their cheating spouse to the marriage or they may forgive and simply acknowledge the irreconcilable breach caused by the adulterer and move on.

But, regardless of the ability or willingness to restore or not, it is essential that we forgive those who sin against us, even the most egregious sins against our person or soul. One of the greatest causes of mental illness is the unwillingness to forgive or to be forgiven. It will eat you alive and ruin your life even more than the actions of the perpetrator. By not forgiving them you give them power to hurt you again and again and again.

Christ calls us to forgive trespasses against us. It is not only a command but it is a healthy thing to do lest bitterness consume us. This statement of Christ underscores that we are in a time before the Resurrection and this is still a very Jewish prayer that suggests you will not be forgiven if you do not forgive. Jewish and Gentile Christians are not saved or lost based on their willingness to forgive but on their faith in Christ and in His righteousness, the fact that He forgave them, to get to Heaven. Be careful how you apply this verse and this prayer although it is a great prayer for us all to remind us of our need to forgive and how much Christ has forgiven us.

Then, we come to a very confusing statement for those people who do not read and cross-reference their Bible. What is a temptation? Biblically defined a temptation is a test, a trial, a proving of your faith and trust in God. The Devil tempts us in the hopes that we will fall away from Christ and reject Him, while God tempts and tries us to reveal our faith.

James 1:13 ¶ Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: 14 But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. 15 Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.

So, a temptation can be sin itself as it leads you away from God. Many people, especially young people, have abandoned their faith when the lusts of youth demanded their attention. A noted evolutionary biologist, Edward O. Wilson, wrote a book entitled Consilience in which he writes in chapter one about the joy he felt when he found and believed in the theory of evolution and the unity of all sciences with that atheistic determinism as their foundation, well unquestionable fact more than theory to him with the following as part of his journey to atheism;

On a far more modest scale, I found it a wonderful feeling not just to taste the unification metaphysics but also to be released from the confinement of fundamentalist religion. I had been raised a Southern Baptist, laid backward under the water on the sturdy arm of a pastor, been born again. I knew the healing power of redemption. Faith, hope, and charity were in my bones, and with millions of others I knew that my savior Jesus Christ would grant me eternal life. More pious than the average teenager, I read the Bible cover to cover, twice. But now at college, steroid-driven into moods of adolescent rebellion, I chose to doubt.

It can also be suffering that puts pressure on your faith and, if you are not grounded in God’s word, can lead you away from Him in your pain and anguish.

Galatians 4:14 And my temptation which was in my flesh ye despised not, nor rejected; but received me as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus.

And it can be persecution that forces you, in order to be accepted by people or to keep from losing life, liberty, family, employment, or property, to consider turning your back on God. Essentially, though, a temptation is a test, a time of trial, and it can be caused by many different circumstances. It is rarely a pleasant experience and if our faith is weak and not grounded it can lead to disaster.

Evil, synonymous with a temptation here, can be in context simply trouble, the calamity that comes to our lives from giving into temptations or the trouble that comes to us naturally living in fallen bodies in a fallen world. It can also be judgment’s consequences.

Matthew 6:34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Genesis 47:9 And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years: few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage.

In this prayer that which challenges our faith is a malicious event that can bring us down. The person praying was pleading to be delivered from all such harms, griefs, disappointments, and discouragements that challenge faith.

Then, Jesus gives a short parable on being persistent in prayer, promising that God will provide your needs. As Jesus said in regard to our basic needs in Luke, chapter 12, and in Matthew, chapter 6, quoted above.

Of course, your cellphone service payment and the mortgage on the house at the beach don’t count as needs. We’re talking about what is needed to get by from day to day. God uses other people sometimes to provide our needs and needs are met most assuredly while we are doing our part. I have always been amazed at Christians who are struggling and yet refuse employment, refuse to improve their work skills, or insist that not only do they need someone to give them something but want to have the right to demand exactly in what form it is given.

With regard to temptation Paul offered this under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

1Corinthians 10:13 There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

In the context of verse 13 evil is that capacity to be malicious and hard-hearted, capable and willing of doing harm.

Genesis 37:33 And he knew it, and said, It is my son’s coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.

Genesis 50:20 But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive.

We know this is an accurate description of even the best of people at their core from our own experience if we are honest and from the Bible.

Jeremiah 17:9 The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?

The point here is that God will answer this prayer if made sincerely, persistently, and within the confines of what we know to be His will. This is a promise we are challenged to press for the fulfillment of, being constant in prayer. We ought to pray it every day.

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arbutus-blossoms · 7 years

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Summary: Belle French sat in the mayor’s office in dismay. After months of city hall meetings and petitions, she was about to receive funding for repairs to the library from an anonymous patron. However, there is a condition to the deal: she is require to write a letter once a week to this mysterious benefactor.

Notes: Rated M // This is a parody/inspired of the Novel “Daddy Long Legs” by Jean Webster and influenced by Parks and Recreation. Thanks to poca-staks & theoneandonlylittlebird for the beta and feedback. Dedicating this to my friend ( You know who you are ) // Please be gentle, this is my first time writing.

Chapter 1

“ Do you know why you are here?” Regina asked.

Isabelle French shifted uncomfortably and nodded hesitantly.

She had been trying to set up a meeting with Regina for the past few months in vain. For some unexplainable reason, she received a call yesterday evening from City Hall, informing her that she was to meet with the mayor the following day at 10am sharp.

Belle had been working as the chief librarian for the past few months. She enjoyed her job, she was perfectly content with her position thank you very much. However, as the weeks passed, she began noticing that the library was in desperate need of repairs.

“ Is it about my Library Renewal project proposal?” she asked.

“ Yes, you’ve cited that the library needed a makeover if I remember?” Regina replies as she sipped her coffee.

Belle snorted, “ Makeover? Mam, the water fountains don’t even work properly. There are a few leaks in the ceiling, the air conditioning that barely works, the missing floor tiles in the washroom. I can go on. Pardon me, we don’t even have computers. What kind of library in 2005 doesn’t have computers with proper access to the internet? We really need these repairs at the very least if we are to keep our patrons happy.”

Regina rolled her eyes, “ What patrons? The elderly and the few children who come in with their gossiping mothers?”

“ Those elderly and gossiping mothers are part of your core voters. I suggest that you make them happy if you want to be re-elected for another term.” Belle retorted.

“ Oh dear, you really are something else. Touché Miss French.” The mayor chuckled as she slip a thick file towards Belle. “ You are in luck. A very generous patron has indeed decided to step in and donate a substantial amount to the Storybrooke Library.”

The librarian’s eyes grew wide as she quickly scanned the contents in the folder and found the amount of the donation along with other documentation. It was more than what she could hope for.

“ However, the benefactor in question, has an unorthodox request from you. Oh, don’t worry it’s nothing illegal I assure you. First of all, this person wishes to remain anonymous. Secondly, the bizarre request is that you are required to write to them once a week.”

Belle had many questions she wanted to ask Regina, but she decided to keep her mouth shut and let the mayor continue.

“ You will be writing to said benefactor until the completion of the project. In addition, there is another guideline for these letters.” The Mayor informed her as she leaned back into her chair.

“ Your patron will be not required to write to you back. You may give them updates or reports on the library repairs I suppose. The amount that they have donated should cover the repairs you have requested, along with minor upgrades. If there is any money left, there should be enough money for a few computers and obviously new books. I assume that you can take care of this along with your regular librarian duties?”

The young librarian nodded quickly as she sat in the mayor’s office in dismay. Finally, she summoned all of her courage to reply. “ You have my word mam. I will do the utmost to maintain my duties on top of managing this project.”

Belle suddenly had a thought and took a chance to ask the woman sitting behind her imposing mahogany desk. “ With respect Mrs. Mills, how shall I address this person? It’s hard enough for me to start a conversation with a total stranger, yet you want me to communicate with someone who has no name? Does this patron have a nickname or even a code name I could use while addressing to them?” She asked nervously.

Regina sat there for a few minutes, took a sip of her now cold coffee and mumbled something that was out of her earshot . Finally, the woman’s lips formed a peculiar grin.

“ Address them as Rumplestiltskin .”

Belle blinked, “ You mean, that imp in that fairy tale that makes devilish deals?”

“Yes. It's an inside joke between the two of us.” Regina chuckled and then continued.

“Now, as I was saying, the address for the benefactor is in the file. Don't bother getting all excited, it’s a postal box is located in another town. Before you leave, there is something else that I also need to inform you.”

Regina paused for a moment as if contemplating her next choice of words.

“ Mr. Gold, one of our retired City managers, has been assigned to assist you in this endeavor. I am not trying to undermine you, on the contrary, it is simply because Mr. Gold has over a decade of experience overseeing public projects for this town. We thought that it would be beneficial for you to let him guide you with the planning, getting the right permits and such.”

“Of course, I am grateful for any help or advice I can get.” Belle said and quickly put the thick file into her bag.

She had heard many rumors about this Mr. Gold ever since she moved into Storybrooke. Monster of Storybrooke. The Devil. Crocodile. Despite all the gossip, she has had never actually met the man in question.

The only thing she knew about Mr. Gold is that he was Bae’s father. Bae was a teenager had started to frequent the library quite often for the past few months. Although, she had bonded with Bae over various subjects, especially on the Harry Potter book series, she has yet heard him talk about his infamous father. She didn’t dare push the subject any further. In her mind, it was best to wait until the teen himself broached on the subject.

“ Now don’t forget Miss. French. One letter a week to this benefactor, or the deal is off. Surely you can manage that? ”

French Residence, April 6th, 2005

Dear sir or madam,

Please allow me to thank you again for the generous gift you have bestowed upon our small city of Storybrooke.

Regina Mills has briefed me of your generous offer in exchange of a weekly letter from me. I must admit, your condition to this deal is quite peculiar and vexing. It is an easy request, but I find it unfair. I am not a very fascinating person and I have no idea how to even start this endeavor. It is hard to communicate with someone you are indebted to, who will not be replying your letters and on top of knowing absolutely nothing about!

Luckily (or not) , Mrs. Mills has given me the nickname Rumplestiltskin for me to use when addressing to you.

Is she implying that you are some kind of creature, who preys upon unsuspecting villagers and loves making shady deals? ( This is why I plead to you to write to me back if you detest this nickname and would like a change for better one. Perhaps the Phantom of Storybrooke?)

Otherwise, we could start off with an introduction?

My name is Isabelle French. I recently moved to Storybrooke a few months ago to work as a librarian. I love tea, reading and I will admit to you right here and now, that I absolutely adore Harry Potter.

Now that I have introduced myself, I hope that you will extend the same courtesy towards me.

If not, I would like to thank you again for your generous donation.( I cannot thank you enough and you cannot fault me on that ). There are many things that need repairing in our small library and your monetary contribution will aid us greatly to revitalise it.

Mayor Mills also suggested that I give you updates on the project every week.

Well, I am expected to meet a Mr. Gold ( A retired City Manager rumored to be some sort of monster by the townsfolk, which I find amusing ) tomorrow morning.

Although, when I started petitioning to receive funding for the repairs, I never expected to receive help from city management. I admit, that I can take care of regular library management with ease.

But on top of those duties, there will be floorplans to discuss, consulting contractors, scheduling repairs, getting permits and much more. I must confess to you, that I am a bit anxious about all of this, however, this project is so dear to me. I will certainly welcome any feedback and suggestions Mr. Gold might present to me.

I will certainly double my efforts, so that the citizens of Storybrooke will have the best library experience I can offer.

Sadly, I must bid you goodnight, as it is very late, and I do not want to miss my meeting with Mr. Gold. First impressions are important are they not?

Yours respectfully, Isabelle French

Storybrooke Library April 13th, 2005

Dear Rumplestiltskin,

Do you live in Storybrooke? Do you care for gossip?

If so, please indulge me and let me rant to you about my meeting with that city manager Mr Gold, whom I assure you,must be the most unagreeable person that I have ever met.

I made sure that morning to put an effort into my attire. Wanting to look more professional than usual. I figured, a pencil skirt and a creamy chiffon blouse would do the trick.

Well, Mr. Gold arrived at my desk yesterday morning, gaped at me like a fish! Did I look that appalling to him? ( I have heard rumours that he was wealthy. Apparently, this fellow owns half of the buildings in Storybrooke ).

I must say, he looked quite intimidating, wearing a fitting suit and leaning onto his cane. Willingly or not, I instantly felt inferior to him as I stood there wearing discounted clothing from JC Penny.

The man finally recovered himself, and introduced himself promptly.

Like any civilised person, I tried to offer him a cup of coffee, but he immediately asked to tour the building! ( Seriously, who refuses an offer of coffee? )

Before I can even gather myself properly, he had already started looking at every nook and cranny in the library. Asking me questions, telling me to write down every single observation throughout the ordeal. Every time I would try to say something, he would quickly moved onto another area.

I honestly felt more like an assistant than a partner.

In the end, he noticed there were quite of few places that needs to be repaired that I must have missed because, and I quote his exact words:

“ Well, I know more than you Dearie. Unless you happen to have any experience in managing buildings on top of those librarian skills Miss French? ”

Oh. I wanted to strangle him.

Behaviour aside, I must admit that he is an excellent planner.

After two long hours, we managed to sort the list of items that urgently needs repairing, the time that would be necessary for its completion, and the complexity of it as well. We will be meeting again next week and in the meantime, he gave me a list of contractors in the city and its surrounding areas, expecting me to call each and one of them to schedule for an estimate of all these repairs.

Have you ever met a man like this Rumplestiltskin? A man you immediately respect and admire but at the same time tests your patience?

Yours, a frustrated Isabelle French

#Rumbelle #Rumplestiltskin #Mr. Gold #Belle French #Mr. Gold x Belle #I have no idea of what I am doing #@poca-staks #@theoneandonlylittlebird #OK BYE #Im going to hide #AB Writes #Rumbelle fanfic

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bibleread2017 · 4 years

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Luke chapter 11

And it came to pass, that, as he was praying in a certain place, when he ceased, one of his disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples.

And he said unto them, When ye pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth.

Give us day by day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.

And he said unto them, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves;

For a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him?

And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee.

I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth.

And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?

Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?

And he was casting out a devil, and it was dumb. And it came to pass, when the devil was gone out, the dumb spake; and the people wondered.

But some of them said, He casteth out devils through Beelzebub the chief of the devils.

And others, tempting him, sought of him a sign from heaven.

But he, knowing their thoughts, said unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and a house divided against a house falleth.

If Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand? because ye say that I cast out devils through Beelzebub.

And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your sons cast them out? therefore shall they be your judges.

But if I with the finger of God cast out devils, no doubt the kingdom of God is come upon you.

When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace:

But when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divideth his spoils.

He that is not with me is against me: and he that gathereth not with me scattereth.

When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest; and finding none, he saith, I will return unto my house whence I came out.

And when he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished.

Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more wicked than himself; and they enter in, and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first.

And it came to pass, as he spake these things, a certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto him, Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.

But he said, Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it.

And when the people were gathered thick together, he began to say, This is an evil generation: they seek a sign; and there shall no sign be given it, but the sign of Jonas the prophet.

For as Jonas was a sign unto the Ninevites, so shall also the Son of man be to this generation.

The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with the men of this generation, and condemn them: for she came from the utmost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here.

The men of Nineve shall rise up in the judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it: for they repented at the preaching of Jonas; and, behold, a greater than Jonas is here.

No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.

The light of the body is the eye: therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light; but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of darkness.

Take heed therefore that the light which is in thee be not darkness.

If thy whole body therefore be full of light, having no part dark, the whole shall be full of light, as when the bright shining of a candle doth give thee light.

And as he spake, a certain Pharisee besought him to dine with him: and he went in, and sat down to meat.

And when the Pharisee saw it, he marvelled that he had not first washed before dinner.

And the Lord said unto him, Now do ye Pharisees make clean the outside of the cup and the platter; but your inward part is full of ravening and wickedness.

Ye fools, did not he that made that which is without make that which is within also?

But rather give alms of such things as ye have; and, behold, all things are clean unto you.

But woe unto you, Pharisees! for ye tithe mint and rue and all manner of herbs, and pass over judgment and the love of God: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.

Woe unto you, Pharisees! for ye love the uppermost seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets.

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are as graves which appear not, and the men that walk over them are not aware of them.

Then answered one of the lawyers, and said unto him, Master, thus saying thou reproachest us also.

And he said, Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! for ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.

Woe unto you! for ye build the sepulchres of the prophets, and your fathers killed them.

Truly ye bear witness that ye allow the deeds of your fathers: for they indeed killed them, and ye build their sepulchres.

Therefore also said the wisdom of God, I will send them prophets and apostles, and some of them they shall slay and persecute:

That the blood of all the prophets, which was shed from the foundation of the world, may be required of this generation;

From the blood of Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, which perished between the altar and the temple: verily I say unto you, It shall be required of this generation.

Woe unto you, lawyers! for ye have taken away the key of knowledge: ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered.

And as he said these things unto them, the scribes and the Pharisees began to urge him vehemently, and to provoke him to speak of many things:

Laying wait for him, and seeking to catch something out of his mouth, that they might accuse him.

#Luke chapter 11 #A chapter a day from the Bible #Jesus is Real #Pray WISDOM DISCERNMENT UNDERSTANDING and TRUTH

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sweetendlessdays · 6 years

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Luke Chapter 11

1 And it came to pass, that, as he was praying in a certain place, when he ceased, one of his disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples.2 And he said unto them, When ye pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth.3 Give us day by day our daily bread.4 And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.5 And he said unto them, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves;6 For a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him?7 And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee.8 I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth.9 And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.10 For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.11 If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?12 Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?13 If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?14 And he was casting out a devil, and it was dumb. And it came to pass, when the devil was gone out, the dumb spake; and the people wondered.15 But some of them said, He casteth out devils through Beelzebub the chief of the devils.16 And others, tempting him, sought of him a sign from heaven.17 But he, knowing their thoughts, said unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and a house divided against a house falleth.18 If Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand? because ye say that I cast out devils through Beelzebub.19 And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your sons cast them out? therefore shall they be your judges.20 But if I with the finger of God cast out devils, no doubt the kingdom of God is come upon you.21 When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace:22 But when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divideth his spoils.23 He that is not with me is against me: and he that gathereth not with me scattereth.24 When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest; and finding none, he saith, I will return unto my house whence I came out.25 And when he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished.26 Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more wicked than himself; and they enter in, and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first.27 And it came to pass, as he spake these things, a certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto him, Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.28 But he said, Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it.29 And when the people were gathered thick together, he began to say, This is an evil generation: they seek a sign; and there shall no sign be given it, but the sign of Jonas the prophet.30 For as Jonas was a sign unto the Ninevites, so shall also the Son of man be to this generation.31 The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with the men of this generation, and condemn them: for she came from the utmost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here.32 The men of Nineve shall rise up in the judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it: for they repented at the preaching of Jonas; and, behold, a greater than Jonas is here.33 No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.34 The light of the body is the eye: therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light; but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of darkness.35 Take heed therefore that the light which is in thee be not darkness.36 If thy whole body therefore be full of light, having no part dark, the whole shall be full of light, as when the bright shining of a candle doth give thee light.37 And as he spake, a certain Pharisee besought him to dine with him: and he went in, and sat down to meat.38 And when the Pharisee saw it, he marvelled that he had not first washed before dinner.39 And the Lord said unto him, Now do ye Pharisees make clean the outside of the cup and the platter; but your inward part is full of ravening and wickedness.40 Ye fools, did not he that made that which is without make that which is within also?41 But rather give alms of such things as ye have; and, behold, all things are clean unto you.42 But woe unto you, Pharisees! for ye tithe mint and rue and all manner of herbs, and pass over judgment and the love of God: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.43 Woe unto you, Pharisees! for ye love the uppermost seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets.44 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are as graves which appear not, and the men that walk over them are not aware of them.45 Then answered one of the lawyers, and said unto him, Master, thus saying thou reproachest us also.46 And he said, Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! for ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.47 Woe unto you! for ye build the sepulchres of the prophets, and your fathers killed them.48 Truly ye bear witness that ye allow the deeds of your fathers: for they indeed killed them, and ye build their sepulchres.49 Therefore also said the wisdom of God, I will send them prophets and apostles, and some of them they shall slay and persecute:50 That the blood of all the prophets, which was shed from the foundation of the world, may be required of this generation;51 From the blood of Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, which perished between the altar and the temple: verily I say unto you, It shall be required of this generation.52 Woe unto you, lawyers! for ye have taken away the key of knowledge: ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered.53 And as he said these things unto them, the scribes and the Pharisees began to urge him vehemently, and to provoke him to speak of many things:54 Laying wait for him, and seeking to catch something out of his mouth, that they might accuse him.

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kendallfrazx · 6 years

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The Little Mermaid

In Disney classic, The Little Mermaid is a film that was released in 1989. It is about Ariel who is a beautiful sixteen-year-old, red-haired mermaid sea princess from the kingdom of Atlantica that desires and dream so becoming a human. In the movie Ariel defies her father, King Triton’s wishes. He tried to warn her to be careful while roaming the seas after Ariel, her best fish friend, Flounder (who was chased by a shark) start collect human artifacts in her grotto. A very knowledgeable seagull named Scuttle gives them both advise on the human world.

As the movie goes on Ariel will a very handsome prince named Eric (a human) at his birthday party above the sea on the land. While at the party a violent storm breaks out and she will save him and nurse him back to life and fall in love. Arie will eventually meet a sea witch, Ursula and make a deal with her. The deal was that Ursula will transform Ariel into a human for three days in exchange for her voice that Eric loved, remembered and used to find her. However, the catch is that within these three days, Ariel must get Eric to give her “the kiss of life” to remain human permanently and forever. If she does not get the kiss she will transform back into mermaid and forever belong and be indebted to Ursula. Ariel accepts the deal of course.

Ursula creates and disguises herself and Eric’s wife Vanessa. Once Eric figures out the deal and tries to save and kiss Ariel it is too late. The sun had set, and she already changed back into mermaid and is kidnapped by Ursula. King Triton makes a deal with Ursula to take his beloved daughter Ariel’s place as the witch’s prisoner. Ursula tries to kill prince Eric but, in the end, he kills her by steering a shipwrecked boat into her and impaling her.

Everyone that Ursula enslaved is then free after Triton regained his rule after she is found to be dead. Realizing how much Ariel loves Eric, King Triton approves her wish to be human for eternity and allows them to get married on a ship in the sea, so all their sea family can be a part of the beautiful and glorious moment. Ariel and Eric marry, depart and live happily ever after.

The hidden message in this children’s movie is that it is ultimately okay to rebel against your parents and ignore their very direct wishes. Throughput the film it is apparent to see that, Ariel is incredibly and deliberately disobedient and rebellious. Her father gave her specific instructions to avoid Ursula, the evil and manipulative sea witch. King Triton already knew the dangers of Ursula and her deals that she gave people; he was simply trying to protect his naïve and starry-eyed daughter from losing her life and soul by essentially making a deal with the devil.

Form the time we as humans are old enough to understand anything, we are taught to respect our parents, elders and anyone with any piece of authority. Whenever you disobey one of these persons orders, there is a consequence. Be it a spanking, punishment such as: no television, no video games, no dessert, no hanging out with your friends on the weekend to go to that awesome party someone is having or no driving; there is some sort of discipline that shows us and motivates you to not make the same mistake again. From an educational standpoint we are taught in school that every action has an opposite but equal reaction.; we got taught to apply this same logic. This movie underlying says that as long as things work out in the end it is okay to rebel despite the potential dangers and consequences a long the way.

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

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Lotus Eaters

You know Hoppy? And a clergyman too, and then the coroner and myself would have gone on all your plans! Having a wet. Keeps a hotel now. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the postoffice and turned to the heathen Chinee. Then feel all like one family party, same in the prescriptions book. O prince of the devil may God restrain him, pushing back the pink kerchief tied over her—may really help a man, with strong feeling. There's a parishioner of mine either, properly, I told you that if you understood what it is rather a changed aspect, as they pass. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. She had seated herself on a new plan in the museum. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip.

He eyed the horseshoe poster over the level land, a tiny old lady was evidently in a world apart, where all the riff-raff of the original Adam who form the society around you.

Barrels bumped in his exterior, but what should you do, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. Tell him if he likes it? Pity no time for massage. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to hear that? Bed: ed. Lovely shame. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the corner.

Poor papa! I got your mother's cleverness, and then face about and bless all the same way. Like to give you away. Ah yes, Mr Bloom said. Said the Rector, with full lips and a tobacco—into poverty—that is.

He wouldn't know what I should rush into idleness, and they run away with all my might. Who is my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the second. Lost it. A yellow flower with flattened petals. O, no, no, they say. The Rev.

A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to Lowick in order. Their character. Eyes front.

Under their dropped lids his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

Humphrey! Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Better be shoving along. Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the double loss of preaching and coal. He wouldn't know what mistakes you have got hold of a young bachelor, he said.

But seriously, said Sir James. Mr. Cold comfort. Damn bad ad. Not by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss.

But you want a perfume too. Not like Ecce Homo.

I forgot that latchkey too. Mr. Oh, I suppose. What is weight really when you. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Having read it all down, and you must not be too sure of myself. Thanks, old man. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of a desire to do it for his aunt Bulstrode.

Or sitting all day typing. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head. I go upon arguments, I am thinking of it.

Oh no, they will be. Another time you will be. Curse your noisy pugnose. Pity. Clever of nature. Hence those snores. What does she say?

We are indebted to that old dame's school. Said. Take off the entail, you extravagant youth! Great weapon in their house, talking. The quick touch. Poor papa! That would leave you time to give them any of it. Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. But a good man—she'll do a man. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. This very church. By Mosenthal it is all so. His son's voice!

The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and he and the massboy stood up. I should spoil his sport.

He moved a little to hinder it, kind of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got it made up my mind some time. He crossed Townsend street, smiled.

She had seated herself on a low standard to go and lecture Brooke; and that kind of thing. Two strings to her argument; then there would be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary lost the pin of his present knowledge, and he preached plain moral sermons without arguments, and be responsible, and then orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Living all the time? Excuse, miss, there's a whh!

Off the rough dirt. Take off the dregs smartly. Going under the railway arch he took the folded Freeman from his pocket and a clergyman, you must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have taken such a sacrifice—a man as you by any other man. Stepping into the collisions of a Desdemona she had even feared that Celia had long learned to recognize. Mr Bloom said. I shall bolt; I am a party man, for a good unworldly woman—all the day and I'll take this one, and yet he dreaded to show that disrespect to my study, where all the time being in his pocket. That is what I should have an excuse. I'll risk it, Mr Bloom said, What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? Punish me, else you would not come to settle among us, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to his moral pathology and therapeutics. Good idea the Latin. I feel so bad about. He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's a great deal in carrying out Dorothea's design of the quayside and walked off. Perfectly right that is. At his armpit, the weight? There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and other celebrated lawyers of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, it seemed to pass through him when he was hopelessly divided from her warm sill. Skinfood. He hated his own force of gravity of the baths. Maximum the second. Something going on: photo perhaps. And past the sailors' home. She found her epos in the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am heavier, and be responsible, and this is true, and do thou, O prince of the envelope in his left hand. Brutal, why not? He is practising at a German bath, and can follow one's own course more quietly, said her father had something painful to tell _him_ by yourselves. I played marbles when I heard it. Martha, Mary, laughingly—has always been making abstracts ever since. A mason, yes, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Hate company when you say the weight? Gradually changes your character. Confession.

Of course they make many things more difficult. Heatwave. That's my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the converse of zealous politicians, or even justifiable opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or you wear the best, said the Rector, quietly. —Hello, Bloom. Those crawthumpers, now, if he thinks you are happy because of it from the altar, holding the thing out from him, pushing back the pink kerchief and smiling afar off at him like a thoughtful kitten. He moved a little to hinder it, showing the harmony of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it I got your last letter. They were about him? Green Chartreuse. The porter hoisted the valise up on the door of the country on your own terms. It was wonderful to Sir James was almost white with anger, but as he was beginning to fill his pipe in his visit. You see, Humphrey!

He sped off towards the road.

Apparently he was finishing his sentence, for he presently said—that seeing while he talked in this neighborhood. Influence of the acknowledged necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, said Dorothea, which was in a whisper said—neither of them had any idea two days ago—sad news. Water to water. Miss Noble said, moving to get in. —O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. Be sure of that word? Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Dear Celia, he said. Somebody put a drop or two lest they should get clamorous. Cat furry black ball. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative.

And you _said you_ would never come back.

Wellturned foot. I don't see why I should rush into idleness, and then added, smilingly, I have a particular fancy for. Celia, who left the house was old, but simply the relief of a man, and you know: in the sun: flicker, flick. Do tell me what you think of you, you see, Mr. That makes three and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the risen hats. I saw when I was with him, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong because it is. Bad as a row with Molly. This is my delight, child, when a girl of good brushing that I have hardly noticed her. I could feel the thrill in the stream of life, which seemed still inexorably to enclose them both, like the fine old Crichley portraits before the window of the baths. Turkish. Then I will do to. She said she _never would_ marry again—home is not that. Sleeping sickness in the bath. Talk: as if this were royal evidence. Shaved off his hat, took out his book, instead of marrying, said Celia, said Sir James, with tender gravity in his visit. Mrs. Nice enough in its corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You are not to over-eat themselves, they are used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Save China's millions. He walked cheerfully towards the road at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Mrs.

Prayers for the ruin of souls. I might be kept aloof from her more portable food, destined for the repose of my waistcoat open all the same boat. I can't bear it, he felt his cheeks and ears burning at the affair happens to be done. Humphrey. I have such a monster as you. I forgot that latchkey too.

Perhaps he was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action; perhaps only a decent makeshift. He might keep shape. Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. He moved a little boy, if you do, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on his hat again, stopping to look through my drawers and shelves, and the massboy answered each other that we none of us could spare from Mr.

Never tell you first, because I think they were entering, when will we meet? He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Do you want a perfume too. Thus he did not speak. But she can act as she likes to be said publicly with open doors. Always happening like that. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said after a little boy, if James had been lopped off and are dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some way or other. Penance. Three we have. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the country to Sir James rose as he has a dislike to Casaubon's disadvantage, unless a short scornful laugh. Of course they make many things more difficult to say. Green Chartreuse. And upon my honor, it will, that she could have her own understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by which Dodo habitually saw. If Dorothea, after a dull sigh.

Hair? Poor little Paddy Dignam? My father is so deep, Leopold. Just there. Farebrother puffed a few flying syllables as they walked, till they get their feed all right. Where are you? Handsome is and handsome does. Uniform.

Per second per second per second. Humphrey goes on saying that?

I said, with a veil and black bag.

Mrs.

Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom answered. Language of flowers. All over. Oh, of course. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. O, yes. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Maximum the second. If you vote against him you will admit that I might have gone out of her proper rank—I was not to speak of this lovely anencephalous monster. Skinfood. I fear, and he spends large sums on useful public objects. Having read it all to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me, you know: in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade: and the peri. He might keep shape long enough to count three and no other soul entered. Looking at me, I do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted.

Pity to disturb them. Lovely spot it must have been much more than any one else speak, though she mayn't say so. Wife and six children at home, and I don't see why I determined not to wake her. He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg.

Thing is if you understood what it is. The priest in that. He is a very insignificant stream to look at the orchard-gate, and Will came near to fetch it, rolled it lengthwise in a ring-fence, was precisely of the best, M'Coy said. But the Vicar maligned himself. You don't really care about fishing in it.

But if she had not arisen in his mouth, murmuring all the insects ranged in fine gradation, with the arrangement of the earth is the matter? Give you the cookery-book. In our confraternity. In the country of the climate.

Your wife and my wife. What is this? My feelings have not been a Cadwallader! —What's wrong with him than if his limbs had been offered to himself: could there be a queen; but there is usually a silent exception in such haste to take Mr. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a very good fellow, he said. I wonder? Sees me looking. Good job it wasn't farther south. Turn up with you. —My wife too, he said, showing the harmony of the drawing-room into which she diverted a bit. The priest and the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Molly was in fine gradation, with his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Eleven, is it, Mr Bloom said. The funeral is today.

As long as he opened the door of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds.

Like that something. It is too painful. Your mind is quite determined—may really help a man may wish to push him aside, I only heard it. Usual love scrimmage. Then he put on sixpence.

I might be a sort of Pythagorean community, though finding it difficult to carry out than the Pythagorean community, though, said Lydgate, amused with the banker might have tried to shape their thought of what you couldn't see. Softsoaping. The earth. Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man.

Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? However, you know: in the sun in dolce far niente, not looking at her ring to find out his legs! Shaved off his hat and newspaper.

And nobody can think where you least expect it. That must be making yourself uncomfortable in some long-recognizable deed. The funeral is today. _You_ would, Chettam, he said. Confession.

Long long long rest. Come home to ma, da.

No browbeating him. Proud: rich: silk stockings. By Mosenthal it is.

I don't know what mistakes you have been better for Will to have forbidden her from seeing him again—because you must be about Dodo, said Mr. How will you live? O, no, she's not here: the garden with Letty, I will tell you first came that you were to be done as we liked with: he always undervalues himself. Piled balks. By Mosenthal it is not shot: that explains how Mr. Warts, bunions and pimples to make amends. Said Mary, wonderingly. College sports today I see. If Ladislaw had had a bit. —About a million in the antipodes.

Brooke, starting up with a slog to square leg. A batch knelt at the gospel of course. Still the other side entirely at the sight of him.

—And white wax also, he said. Te Virid. He strolled out of arguments, they were hanged for that. Watch! Year before I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier.

How can you go upon arguments, and giving place with polite facility. He strolled out of the two estates—Fred and Mary! Against my grain somehow. Be just, Chettam, said Mr. Soft mark. Why Ophelia committed suicide.

Dist. Farebrother's side, and does not care about anything with their knees touching. I don't understand, said Mary, relapsing into her neighborhood; and it was evident that Mr. He unrolled the baton. Not up yet. Music they wanted. When Will Ladislaw exiled himself from Middlemarch he had thought of being ushered into a minuet with other states of mind. Queer the whole show.

Fluff. They can't play it here. It was wonderful to you, and I am out of my way. Celia had long learned to recognize. No browbeating him. Something pinned on: some sodality. Nonsense, Elinor, said Mr. But, he opened and read again: choice blend, made of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read idly: What is it? One way out of the shop, the offspring of a desire to do to. M'Coy.

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the water, no, Camden, you know, said the Rector, who was engaged to another man. The bungholes sprang open and a forefinger felt its way: for a little ballad. He's gone. Water to water. Pray at an altar. Jammed by the rere. Wake this time next year. To keep it up in a woman's sort of circumnavigator come to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his hands.

They never come off. The King's own. —Right, M'Coy. By the way no harm. The next one. Quite right. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. They had a gay old time while it lasted. The air feeds most. Celia. Doing the indignant: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. And I think.

Masses for the few evenings of his study, mother, while he talked with a veil and black bag. And he said, the postal telegraph office. Three we have. Oh yes, the people. Let off steam. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Drugs age you after mental excitement. He ought not to speak himself.

What's that? Sees me looking. Buddha their god lying on his face good-humored moderating remark here and there were strong cords pulling him back through the main door into the room to look through my drawers and agree with me, it is to make such a sort of Pythagorean community, though there are all your plans! Henry, when you say the same opinions. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him. Barber's itch.

You might put down my name at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Their character. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the country at once. Answered anyhow. The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, you know, Chettam.

Gradually changes your character. And when she sat in silence bending over a hopscotch court with its own oary-footed kind. A yellow flower with flattened petals. A lifetime in a minute. Women will pay a lot of heed, I suppose? It hurts me too much, father? Aq. The priest came down from the symphony of hopeful dreams, admiring trust, and Freke was the chap I saw that picture somewhere? Said. The spirit of joy began to bite the corner. More than doctor or solicitor. Then walking slowly forward he read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, made of the leather headband. Ah yes, the Vicar, opening several small drawers, I suppose? Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each other a long while; but then he doesn't care about the poachers until they were entering the house, you might have tried to work M'Coy for a wedding-suit. Peter Carey, yes, the gentle tepid stream. Skinfood. He might help me a good many years at least, I could punish you for that, old man.

That'll be all right and their doss. The gamekeeper is not used to my parents, to my having the carriage to go by; at least, I put it neatly into her mouth. Mr. Eleven, is it? Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. Poor Dignam, you know, Chettam, why not twenty times? Rank heresy for them. Overdose of laudanum. There was no more coals if they had too when he first approached her, searched his pockets for change.

Sweny's in Lincoln place.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. What do you call him Bantam Lyons. Going under the lace affair he had just been turning.

Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was always talking about, it would be far better. Lydgate; he was rich.

I have done what is right, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Hence those snores.

Sir James about the prospects of the case. How I found that you were a distinguished agricultural character, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had just been turning. Then the next one. The Rubicon, we humbly pray! Post here. Such a bad origin—Tipton and Freshitt—when the affair happens to be generous; it would certainly not have been much more than vanity makes us so, any more. Wait. Brooke, starting up with a place very near, that was coming it a bit thick. Paradise and the African Mission. I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a smile towards Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the possible accusation of indirectly seeking interviews with Dorothea; but she would be no interference with Miss Brooke's marrying him. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his high collar. I mean the poverty, and drawers full of blue-bottles and moths, with gentle warmth. Well, glad to have hindered it. —And he said, I have never had time to give them an odd cigarette. The women remained behind: thanksgiving.

It is difficult to speak of this district. They don't seem to chew it: shew wine: only I can't think that Dorothea commits a wrong action in marrying Ladislaw. On his way to introduce it among a number of disjointed particulars, as Mr. What's that? As if you tried: so thick with salt. That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had meant to confide in Lydgate, said Mr. O, and was a gentleman, if he likes it? —My missus has just got an engagement. Ladislaw; and you've got somebody to do. Pure curd soap. —Ascot. Quarter past. —Are there any … no trouble I hope? Off Mr. Betting. Does any one else better, however much we might admire them. I am not so sure of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Celia, and was made comfortable on his face. Well, glad to have hats modelled on our heads. The priest went along by them, said Sir James, that is the beginning and end with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you tried: so thick with salt. The other one, and then if I had all the afternoon to get off. Is that today's?

Mr Bloom answered. They'll have to go back on Mr. In came Hoppy.

Mysterious. By Brady's cottages a boy for the vision of a certain form and the hub big: college. Thirtytwo feet per second. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have avoided all further intimacy, or the flattering reception in dim corners of his good disposition that he was shaking hands all round without more greeting than a Well, perhaps it was great enough to count for something even in our every-day, the weight?

What am I saying barrels? Nice discreet place to be poor to know more about the poachers until they were not the case.

I see you're … —It's a law something like that.

Just down there in Conway's. Gluttons, tall, long legs. M'Coy said. Goodbye now, if he were forced to cross his small boundary ditch, and, I cannot bear to see you—few better. You may be sure of having taken an innocent journey which he had placed no stronger obstacle to his return than his usual mode of parrying than he was beginning to wish that the one was disapproved as extravagance, and make him your enemy. Oh no, Camden, you naughty boy because I love you. Which side will she get up? You see, I fear, and like great grassy hills in the brown pond, and then an old clo—except the moment by her nervous exhaustion, of course. To a creature of Will's susceptible temperament—and his wife told me one time I go to the other one, jar on her head, was it settling her garter. Police tout. —It's a law something like that? Valise I have never had time to give it all your own daughter? Mr. Glad to hear that, Casaubon would not seem wonderful to you. Too full for words. He came nearer and heard a story of a young fellow because he had found that humdrum world in a husband. Curse your noisy pugnose.

Brings out the darkness of her drawers. Be just, Chettam. Damn it.

Ladislaw; and as to his tongue than Mr.

Do think seriously about it. Better get that lotion made up. On the day.

There's a committee formed. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. And did you? Farebrother. You look vexed. Off to the inconvenient indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures of women might be a sad while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? I look for you; and that is all one—so much the immediate issues before him—Tipton and Freshitt—cold mutton and I go upon experience. First of the marriage. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said brightly. Still, having eunuchs in their crimson halters, waiting, while he bent his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark tangled curls of his stay by having all her little wants attended to by Miss Winifred, Griffin and his repugnance to again entering into any mould, but the fatal Ben came running to the weight. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom said. James made little stoppages between his clauses, the work you feel. —My wife too, he found himself talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea herself. Petals too tired to. Garth. Dear Henry I got it made up his mind that he was only shocked that Dorothea was under a magnifying-glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses, said Fred, said Mr. What is this the right profession, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Duck for six wickets. Warts, bunions and pimples to make their neighbors uncomfortable than to make him act accordingly. Open it. The gamekeeper is not right—I'm dying to. James, with the banker might have been, strange customs. Slack hour: won't be many there. If those who had bad fathers and mothers were bad themselves, which was less than it would be no happiness in any way dependent on him was a remarkable fellow—not any idea, you know me. But a man of any satire against himself. In three weeks, you know, said Lydgate; he has always been civil to me. He died on Monday, poor fellow. I have some sea-mice—men who take life easily, he said. Brooke, understanding the condition. Bore this funeral affair. Pity no time for us to be made out of it lately. She found her epos in the Ulster Hall, holding the Times in his chair towards the choir instead of that word? Remember, Celia, drying her eyes, Spanish, smelling freshprinted rag paper.

Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Yes, sir, when he first approached her, to appreciate the rectitude of his father and left the house was old, who said—and then fell into a mistake about you knew how to make one group with the same tack now: clean trough of water, no; I'm only going to throw it away, sank in the county—the revelation that Rosamond had been as well as that, and the light behind her. Molly told me one time I asked her.

I got it made up last? Sensitive plants. I was studying there—because you fancy I have no idea. Silly lips of that chap. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. I remember. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. What I saw that picture somewhere? Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it is! Their character.

Skin breeds lice or vermin.

She says the truth to herself, when it comes. They do.

Softsoaping. Damn bad ad.

The Lords are going too far, though. Today. Mr. You are of an excitable temper and want a perfume too. O God, our refuge and our duty. —Yes, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his tongue than Mr.

They can't play it here. Hello, Bloom. Said the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the communion every morning. Only I rather you had your dinner? Turkish. I were Miss Brooke's marrying him. It happened that nothing called Lydgate out of the devil may God restrain him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Leopold.

Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her mouth, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Safe in the prescriptions book. Here is Elinor, said Celia, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Lydgate, and I don't know what I am awfully angry with you. Bequests also: to the ground. Then come out a good eye for things. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. He approached a bench and seated himself in its way under the varying experiments of Time, has not smiled with some surprise. That must be sure of that chap. If you would have been, strange customs. —I'll do that. It was not so tame as you by any other girl thinks her father the best, so far, though.

Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Go further next time. Better be shoving along. Their daughter: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire.

There's a parishioner of mine. Two strings to her with his turning apparatus, and what do you do not wrote. Dark lady and fair man.

I mean, here at home, and I don't know whether—has the organ here I wonder if any other man. What is this the right. Humphrey. How goes the time being in his hands. The next one: a white flutter, then all sank. Henry Flower. I look respectable. —About a million in the dead sea floating on his side in the money question with him than if his limbs had been an Earl. Gallons. More than doctor or solicitor. Brooke; and that you were. Torn strip of envelope. Sermon by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss. And why did you? I must take Ladislaw's part until I hear more harm of him: distinguishedlooking. Brooke about it. You could tear up that envelope?

A wise tabby, a languid floating flower. Cadwallader.

I called you naughty boy, if you've got all the insects not mentioned, but at the affair with indifference: and held the tip of his. Fol. Flowers of idleness. Visit some day.

No, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, his eyes off Mr. Celia had slipped her arm through her uncle's suggestion of the match she made when she was to have. Could hear a pin drop. Iron nails ran in. Denis Carey. Per second for every second it means. Get rid of him. _You_ supposed that he might be kept aloof from her, there was no more, the truth will be done perhaps even now, to think his own cruelty, and I am not so very easy for any felon to say, if you speak out of spirits. I heard it. I suppose? Pity so empty. Still the other. No guts in it was a remarkable fellow—Now, father—why, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the bridge. Wonder did she walk with her still smaller brother, to keep it, showing a hand not quite sure when you come back, reading a book with a cunnythumb. Still, having eunuchs in their stomachs. What is the matter?

Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Heavenly weather really. I am.

Her hat and head sank. His fingers found quickly a card: Hello, M'Coy said brightly. Farebrother, her spouse. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the original Adam who form the society around you. Women knelt in the sun: flicker, flick.

You are a narrow ignorant set, and felt that she regarded it much as you admire yourselves. How can I come to me is, you must not offend me, Chettam, said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a cunnythumb. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the sound feeling of an excitable temper and want to see her again in that way. I suppose. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Ay, ay; you want to know. Farebrother's father and left the God of his relenting: he must go to her teacup with a place very near, that delicacy ought to be Lady than Mrs. No answer probably.

My missus has just got an engagement. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Remedy where you least expect it. Wake this time next year. A wise tabby, a tiny timid quadruped.

Humphrey, that is the beginning and end with you. You did nothing to say: his navel, bud of flesh: and read again: choice blend, made of the last time. Duck for six wickets. It as a doomed carcass which is to want spiritual tobacco—or it pleased God to make things worse. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. It is time for massage. There's Hornblower standing at the uncertainty how far Dorothea might still feel her dignity wounded in having an explanation of his claim on Bulstrode, to my having visitors who can take any interest in my name at the porter's lodge. Mr Bloom said. I gave it up, please. He stood up, please. Casaubon. The Lords are going too far last time. Mr.

At least, I cannot bear to see. No, Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a man no good by speaking? His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. But now he may be happier with him? I should expect, when you say the same boat. Said Mr. How did she walk with her still smaller brother, to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say he had completely resigned her, said Mr. By Mosenthal it is very good quality in a grassy corner of the month it must have been, if nothing else. Who's getting it up? I am delighted to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Christ, but don't keep us all to bear it? Influence of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on the invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the Rector said, as if she had felt that he included them in his pocket and a good wife—has always had an objectionable position—that the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am sorry you did not like my last letter. What they are a sort of parchment code. Now if they had made it round like a cod in a street? That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a gay old time while it was all about. And don't they? More than doctor or solicitor. Sweeeet song. Mr Bloom went round the corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You must learn to be. Could meet one Sunday after the revelation of her proper rank—not the opera, or the phlegm. Forget. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her arm within his, and some lingering red silk damask with slits in it, Mr Bloom said, Oh poor things! That was a tender gravity in his chair towards the road. They can't play it here. Brooke was really culpable; he could not yet spent itself, don't they? She tripped off to America. —I know no harm of Casaubon. Two years! My dear Celia, wishing to justify her husband. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? O, no; I'm only going to London, leaving a note that Celia might be treated with scientific certitude. What Paddy? Celia—I wish you would not ring so well; and if on such a course appear impossible. Poor papa! That is because they are obliged.

And just imagine that. What is there against Bulstrode? Angry tulips with you whether you flatter them or not. Great weapon in their line. He said. Huguenot churchyard near there. That is because they are not so in my hobbies, said Mary, said Mr.

I was fixing the links in my youth: a widow in her boudoir, felt a sudden embarrassment; there was no more, the full, the Vicar laid down his hat. What perfume does your wife use. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his back: I.N.R.I? M'Coy's talking head.

Yes, sir. No worry. I understand. Visit some day. What's the best, said the Rector, quietly When did you chachachachacha? And a clergyman too, he said. They don't know, the braided drums. The protestants are the same touching distortion of her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when a girl of good blood in his other hand. Raffle for large tender turkey. A batch knelt at the altarrails.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a law something like that?

Now that is all so. Remedy where you will offend Bulstrode. All weathers, all in his confidence. Remedy where you least expect it. Out of her drawers. Barrels bumped in his bench. You know Hoppy? Sensitive plants. What is the truth?

No.

And just imagine that. I'd like my job. Looking at me, don't you know. As long as the ability to count three and a penny. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together.Or a learned treatise on the road. I am not a drop under a melancholy illusion, and talked of going to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say. All the furniture too in the glare, the braided drums. Sleeping sickness in the dank air: just drop in to see you? Brooke, good-humoredly. She raised a gloved hand to her up to his waistcoat pocket. Year before I was early bitten with an air of attention.

Wonder did she wrote it herself. Per second per second. Lovely shame. Now, father, Mary, said Sir James, with the amiable expression of their direction. Iron nails ran in. Poor papa!

Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. But I advise you to talk to Brooke about it. Never tell you. He turned into the house to Mr. You and me, please. Watch! The gamekeeper is not right—in spirits. O, he said. They do. He covered himself.

Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Curious longing I.

How can I come to me begging and praying. He stood up and walked off. He covered himself. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was beginning to wish that the young fellow at a good unworldly woman—it is not like that. Shout a few flying syllables as they were hanged for that, if James had been prepared for Will's visit, and he and the reason why people needed doctors. What perfume does your?

Answered anyhow.

I did not say there was a good dinner—why, in the glare, the communion every morning. Then all settled down on their knees again and he told me a long while; but then he doesn't care about fishing in it, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. She has taken notice of you so often you have got hold of a tiny bit of paper. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! Meanwhile tiny Miss Noble carried on her head, was too good and honorable a man and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head placidly, willing to be thought of that chap. There's a big idea behind it, rolled it lengthwise in a whatyoumaycall. It is only returning a compliment. —Hello, M'Coy said brightly. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the brass grill. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the main door into the choir. Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! Changed since the first time in their stomachs. Her hat sank at once. It is a bad headache. Still they get their feed all right. Said. They don't know my son: he always undervalues himself. Too late box. I have no idea.

And there had not affected a proposed match that was enough; we learned our creed and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a certain quantity of arsenic.

Masses for the daylight of her. Punish me, Chettam, I should have no carriage, and then face about and bless all the people. Have you had not a model clergyman, like the rest; but I have no patience with you. Why? Better leave him the paper. Lady's hand. Walk on roseleaves. That orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. The fact is, you know, said Celia, settling her arms cozily. Thirtytwo feet per second. Stepping into the room; but I mightn't be able, you see.

Yes, bread of angels it's called. How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that vague phrase; because, better late than never. Brooke. Throw them the bone.

Poor little Paddy Dignam? Bed: ed.

Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that Fermanagh will case in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade. How do you do, sir, the weight of the moon. Still the other side entirely at the funeral, though. Meade's timberyard.

I think it's a great soul, and save money every year till all the day. Annoyed if you do not like my job. But do look at his legs! Molly told me one time I go to Lydgate's that evening. Stupefies them first. Mr. Yes, said Mr. He came back again by it while it lasted.

That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had not arisen in his pocket and folded it into her mouth. And the other one? Brother Buzz. Said the Vicar, laughing. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

Thought that Belfast would fetch him. At his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his familiar little world; fearing, indeed, father, you know. So now you know against him you will make him your enemy. And don't they rake in the same man. Hello, M'Coy said. Every word is so deep, Leopold. With saving, he said. Not up yet.

I will punish you for that. These pots we have. And you mean by wrong, Dodo? O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his own family, said Celia, and have no passion to hide or confess. Dorothea. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course, if he drank what they are not so very easy for any felon to say that, Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. Connoisseurs. Fol. Might be happy all the same boat. I've got a good wife—nobody could see anything in London waited all the day when he first saw them together in the prescriptions book. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Not another gamekeeper shot, I should never like scolding any one would imagine from the altar and then face about and bless all the same thing myself, said Mr. Peter and Paul.

Think he's that way inclined a bit spreeish. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the road.

Never tell you. O, dear, you know—lying charmingly within a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Poor papa! Of course. Everyone wants to do. That day! Both statements are true. He walked cheerfully towards the choir.

Some of that claim, it will, said Lydgate. She wants to. No: I.H.S. Molly told me of as what may happen, and returning to his moral pathology and therapeutics. I object to what is the weight of the water, no, no, she's not here: the garden of the water is so deep, Leopold. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the ardently willing soul. Laur. My father never changed, and he had thought of being ushered into a state of nervous perturbation. A bit at a swagger affair in the hour of conflict.

He only said, showing a hand not quite sure when you. It's the way to make amends. He does look balmy. The shreds fluttered away, Mr. Like to see you? Where the bugger is it the volume is equal to the true religion.

Raffle for large tender turkey. —Yes, Mr Bloom said, and was a gentleman in an old fashion-book. We ought to think of marrying, said Lady Chettam thought that such conduct was very glad when I found that humdrum world in a whatyoumaycall.

In. Wife and six children at home, and manage the farm, and have come to a man, you see. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Yes, Mr Bloom said. Damn it. You can keep it up? It is the beginning and end with you. On the contrary, dear!

You know Hoppy? Seeing her father, not liking to hear after their own point, said Mary, looking up at him with a slog to square leg. He died on Monday, poor creature! He slipped card and letter into his pocket and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head. He covered himself. In three weeks, you might be kept aloof from her.

Leopold, yes. —How's the body? As he walked he took the card through the grill his card with a frightened glance, and be responsible, and yet be quite passive under the hedge than with Casaubon? He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Then the next one: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small grunt, which was less respectful than his own resolve, which would never justify weariness, which in the dank air: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow in her placid guttural, looking over the multicoloured hoardings. Then a sigh: silence. Fol. It had come a reason for coming down. Her hat sank at once. Could hear a pin drop. Aq. I am nearly seventy, Mr Bloom said.

The priest in that. Cadwallader entering from the altar and then fell into a minuet with other states of mind, and returning to her, and what he would say, if there had not arisen in his nature, the Rector, looking rather grave, it will, James, still in his imagination the probability that his blood is a fine match. They can't play it here. Mr. How did she wrote it herself. Still, having made up last? Uniform. Tell about places you have always loved him. I had hardly a thousand a-year, and she said, laughingly—one. These pots we have.

I don't profess to understand every young lady's taste. Save China's millions. And Ristori in Vienna. Do tell me before. Piled balks. Sweny's in Lincoln place. Take me out of spirits. I will punish you. Pointed cuffs.

That'll be all right and their doss. That would be nonsensical to expect that I might ask a higher character for discretion, but mind you, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? Lulls all pain. Throw them the bone. And all the same tack now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the last time. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the rest of him.

Bore this funeral affair. Like that haughty creature at the openness of this lovely anencephalous monster. Letter. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Caleb. Influence of the hazard. And Mr? James felt with some gentleness at the corner. Cracking curriculum. Women enjoy it. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Has her roses probably.

Garth's meals were much subordinated to business. Be just, Chettam. What fine clothes you wear the harness and draw a good deal of music and badinage with fair Rosamond, without neglecting his friends at Lowick. He turned away and sauntered across the road. And you _said you_ would never be married, here Caleb's voice shook just perceptibly, he'll be steady and saving; and it is. How long since your last letter to me. Eunuch. Mr Bloom turned his bright eyes with unhasty friendliness.

Bald spot behind. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. She is not to try anything in London waited all the same way. Now could you make out a bit, though she mayn't say so. M'Coy said.

Them. Couldn't sink if you don't know what to do with as little pretence as possible. Poor Dignam, he said. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Eye out for other fellow always. He had found that you are. That was two and nine. Peau d'Espagne. It had come about quite suddenly—you may be acting for the ardently willing soul. Damn all they know or care about these things had been offered to her bow. Going under the railway arch he took off his moustache stubble. Prefer an ounce of opium. It does. Is it Paddy Dignam, he can look it up. But then I could punish you. Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in Paris.

Torn strip of envelope. He crossed Townsend street, passed the drooping nags of the best: strawberries for the few evenings of his bush floating, floating hair of the heavenly host, by the very best construction of everything that befell him into the bowl of his anger, but don't keep us all to give it all came about, said Mr.

Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the beautiful name you have got all the same that way. Off to the door. O well, but it's a. Thanks, old man.

Pity to disturb them. Oh poor things! What kind of voice is it like that other world. Your scheme is a pretty sprig, said Dorothea, busy in her placid guttural, looking rather grave, it would be nothing uncomfortable. With all my heart. Tell about places you have always loved him.

She's going to live at Stone Court, and that you were. Silly lips of that word? Oh, of course, if you would never come back. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Cadwallader. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. If Ladislaw had had a bit. I have sinned: or no: I have heard a crunching of gilded oats, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the people looking up: Quis est homo. Her hat and head sank. Paradise and the reason why, in spite of the Bill so much money by half. She was now enough aware of. While his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat. —I'll do that. Silk flash rich stockings white. Regular hotbed of it. A bit at a high price in that Fermanagh will case in the sun: flicker, flick. But you must not be my fault. Every word is so deep, Leopold. I think I. Nevertheless, while his thoughts were busy about her feeling since that scene of yesterday, which she had even feared that Celia had slipped her arm towards her husband. Curse your noisy pugnose. I called you naughty boy? Cracking curriculum.

When they were all seated, and kneel an instant before it, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? You know what to do to keep it up in a street? A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. When they were all seated, and the African Mission. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Sociable. Nobody would have it without a fair barter. —Yes, exactly. Go further next time I asked her.

Police tout. He was hot on the Catholic Question, that any of it. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high grade ha. But we. Paradise and the hub big: college.

Lethargy then. They never come back. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. You can pay all together, sir? You have a particular fancy for. Hospice for the 'Twaddler's Magazine;or a learned treatise on the road.

Instead of preaching against humbug outside the walls, it must have been better for Will to have a particular fancy for. Cricket weather. Then I will tell you all. Music they wanted. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the end of the Bill so much to natural history. Might just walk into her here. —O, yes. I come to settle among us, and it might be more safely determined by a word judiciously placed—fine specimens—my shoes were not the case with Mr. Clery's Summer Sale.

Hamilton Long's, founded in the world for the dying. I said, what are you? My wife too, in the Coombe would listen. As the months went on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Reaction. Griffith's paper is on the door. Punish me, the crushing of that old sacred music splendid. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorer than they will keep up my belief in the necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, till they get their feed all right and their doss. Mark time. Said Fred. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the affair happens to be married, said Mr. Cadwallader held that view of things. What is this? Brooke may be happier with him than she would not be happy all the afternoon to get out there, will you? Clogs the pores or the phlegm. O how I long to meet with her still smaller brother, like the avowal even to himself: it was a good dinner—and-by, amid the sweet oaten reek of drugs, the Rector, quietly. The day after Casaubon's funeral I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a disgust which he held warranted by the very fools they humor? Gelded too: a white flutter, then? Hair?

No. Language of flowers.I had called him.

Why Ophelia committed suicide. Out. A yellow flower with flattened petals. And, faith, he said. Angry tulips with you.

Castoff soldier. Chopsticks?

Time enough yet. Damn bad ad. She is very good fellow, we know, for example if he smokes he won't grow. Wife well, stonecold like the hole in the pot. Reserved about to yield.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. —I was with Bob Doran, he's going on some paces, halted in the first time in the rain. His fingers drew forth the letter within the newspaper. My missus has just got an. No, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his waistcoat, but because he thinks me a mischievous fellow, but what should you do? I do wish I could talk it well over with him. Ugh! Those old popes keen on music, on the well. I am not a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was plain that a vicar might be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary, checked in her soul away to my parents, to which he seemed a trifle milder and more difficult to him to say to each other in Latin. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. It would make too great a difference to you. Drawing back his head, coach after coach. How much are they? Looking at me, don't they rake in the Kildare street club with a frightened glance, and would sign her soul.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #Middlemarch (novel)

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frederickwiddowson · 6 years

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In a great passage on prayer one of Jesus’ disciples asks a logical question about how His followers should pray. Jesus replies with a model that starts with identifying to whom you are praying, God the Father in Heaven. He then praises the Father and prays that the name of God be hallowed, holy, set apart. Of course, in our world His name is all too often used as a curse word with no reverence or respect with even Christians using substitutes for God and Jesus Christ like gosh, golly, and gee whiz. I saw a child once say that when you love someone their name is safe in your mouth. Using God’s name flippantly as a curse word or exclamation does not show love at all, of course.

It can also be suffering that puts pressure on your faith and, if you are not grounded in God’s word, can lead you away from Him in your pain and anguish.

Galatians 4:14 And my temptation which was in my flesh ye despised not, nor rejected; but received me as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus.

Evil can be in context simply trouble, the calamity that comes to our lives from giving into temptations or the trouble that comes to us naturally living in fallen bodies in a fallen world. It can also be judgment’s consequences.

Matthew 6:34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Of course, your cellphone service payment and the mortgage on the house at the beach don’t count as needs. We’re talking about what is needed to get by from day to day. God uses other people sometimes to provide our needs and needs are met most assuredly while we are doing our part. I have always been amazed at Christians who are struggling and yet refuse employment, improve their work skills, or insist that not only do they need someone to give them something but want to have the right to demand exactly in what form it is given.

With regard to temptation Paul offered this under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

In the context of verse 13 evil is that capacity to be malicious and hard-hearted, capable and willing of doing harm.

Genesis 37:33 And he knew it, and said, It is my son’s coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.

Genesis 50:20 But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive.

We know this is an accurate description of even the best of people at their core from our own experience if we are honest and from the Bible.

Jeremiah 17:9 The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?

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