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crimsonrae · 3 years

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Reckless Intent: Part One

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of Prostitution and some minor nudity

A/N: I couldn’t leave the thought of Sherlock and Delia alone and this was how I picture them finally acknowledging the attraction between them. Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years.

It hadn’t taken much effort.

Far less than Delia had anticipated when she had visited with the proprietor of the gentlemen's club, but then she wasn’t surprised by the notion that a group of men who spent their private time ogling scantily clad women, would hire her so quickly to do the same. Her stomach churned with mild disgust while her nerves threatened to undo her.

Large dusky pink feathers danced and skimmed playfully over her delicate slippers, teasing the curve of her calf as she drew the large fan up her body.

Being in the club was a risk, but it had been the last place her dear friend, Margaret, had visited before her untimely death and the police were making little headway in finding her killer.

She bent sanguinely back in time with the dulcet chords from the piano, allowing a glimpse of the swell of her bosom to the leering crowd below.

Part of their sloth had much to do with the other women's reticence in speaking with the coppers. Their livelihood depended on them being able to keep a secret, after all.

She winked and tossed her leg up receiving a loud cheer as the men tried to glimpse her coveted virtue.

The other part had much to do with the fact that Margaret had been a former pickpocket and flower-girl, now tobacco-girl. Her death meant little to the constables and even less to the detectives.

What was one more dead urchin after all?

It both saddened and enraged Delia, for that had been her life for so very long too. Still was to a certain degree, but she had found employment for her particular skill set... even if it did bring her into contact with the police and an up and coming young detective far too often for her tastes.

She twirled. The fans just barely hid her assets from the audience as she swayed across the stage.

Unruly fire twisted in her veins as she thought of that arrogant young man. How his cerulean orbs twinkled with dark intrigue with their every encounter... as if she were some mystery for him to puzzle out. She didn’t care for his stares or the odd fluttering he caused her.

The clip in her hair fell loose as she pirouetted more vigorously than she had intended. Her hair cascaded in soft luscious waves down her back much to the appreciation of her gentleman viewers.

Those flames licked angrily at her throat as she recalled their last meeting. How she had all but begged for his help and he... Humiliated tears burned at her eyes as she tried and failed not to think of his uncaring words.

Her friend’s death wasn’t interesting. She was likely caught in one of her scams and it ended badly for her. She forced the tears down.

She tried not to think of why his usual dismissive behavior had wounded her so...

What did Sherlock Bloody Holmes know anyway?

A playful smile curled at the edges of her painted lips as she slid down into a vertical -legged split to roars of delight. Never noticing the lone note of remonstrating silence from the back.

Delia glided from the stage feeling flushed and exhilarated as she was greeted by the knowing chuckles of the other women. There was a strange excitement that came from being so daring and vulnerable before that crowd... she understood now why Margaret had sought it out. She felt almost... powerful.

“You look just like her.” One of the girls murmured, a sad glint tinting her gaze.

Delia arched a questioning brow, surprised when the other woman continued, “Your friend, Maggie... She had that same dazzled look, Luv.”

A few of the women dispersed, heading for the stage – other's the crowd, but the intent was the same to get away from the coming conversation.

The woman sighed and adjusted the garter on her thigh as she critically eyed the tight lacing of her silk corset, “We’re not fools, ya know? We know why you’re here. Maggie was a good ‘un. Real riot. Shame, what happened to her.”

Delia’s heart skipped a beat, unsure how to react to being found out so soon – she wasn’t used to others seeing through her disguise. It was foolish on her part; she had visited Margaret here on a few occasions. Hesitantly, she queried, “And do you know what happened to her?”

The other woman sighed and finished tethering her skirt to her hip before turning to her, “’ Course not. She ran into trouble, didn’t she? Word of advice, avoid the red room, else you’ll run into trouble, too.”

The woman spurned Delia with a pointed look before she sauntered off to join another girl on a secondary stage. There was no missing the hint behind her comment.

If Delia’s heart had skipped a beat before, it thrummed with desperate need now. Warily, her eyes darted to the stairs in the back of the club as she pinned a faux skirt over the lacey French drawers that teased her nethers. The private rooms resided above, and Delia shivered to think of what occurred inside. Many of the women sold more than dances, and despite her earlier bravado, such carnality was foreign to her. It saddened her to realize that perhaps it wasn’t foreign to Margaret.

Steeling herself, she pasted a coy smile to her lips and forced mischief to dance in her gaze as she picked up a tobacco tray. She mingled in the crowd. Trading her pouches of dried leaf for coin as she steadily made her way to the stairs. She dumped the tray once she passed the smirking usher at the bottom... now she just needed to find this red room.

Footsteps and giggling voices interrupted her search before she could even begin. Panic choked at her throat as she sought an open room to duck into, uncertain if her presence would be questioned. She didn’t make it far when a warm hand wrapped around her elbow and yanked her into a darkened room. She yelped, her fist flying at her assailant before she consciously noted it moving, but this too was thwarted.

Her wrist was captured, and her body pressed firmly back into the closed door to prevent any further attack when she caught sight of a familiar pair of cerulean eyes.

“You!” Delia spat, her fear forgotten in the face of her arrogant detective, “Unhand me!”

Momentarily allied that no harm would befall his person, Sherlock stepped back with an arched brow as he faced her ire, “Kindly keep your screeching to a minimum. It wouldn’t do to have us discovered so soon.”

Delia’s mouth dropped open indignantly and her hand tingled with the dark desire to slap his smarmy face. She barely kept hold of her temper as she berated him lowly, “You accosted me, Mr. Holmes. If anything, I should be screaming the building down on you.”

“That would be foolish and counterintuitive to your goals.” Sherlock stated mildly as his gaze deliberately skimmed over her meager dressage. His mouth tightened distastefully, “Though you’ve already proved how foolish you’re willing to be tonight.”

She resisted the urge to cover herself as her gaze darkened almost ferally, “I beg your pardon -”

“You’ll beg for a lot more than that before this night is through.” Sherlock murmured softly, a hint of danger coating his tone that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck and sent heat to her cheeks.

It was then that Delia realized there was no trace of his usual mocking humor. His eyes didn’t twinkle with that thoughtful light but gleamed with dark intent. The passive non-smile that usually painted his maw was now replaced by a tense jaw and a twitching cheek. To anyone unfamiliar with the detective they would merely see an impassive visage, but Delia had encountered him often enough this past year to know he was displeased. In fact... he seemed livid.

The realization sent an untoward shiver down her spine. Vainly, she ignored the embarrassed fluttering he induced in her as she held her scowl, “Why are you here, Mr. Holmes? I didn’t take you for the type to buy his pleasure.”

“Nor did I take you for the type to sell hers.” Sherlock retorted impatiently – even this was unlike him. He was not usually prone to such emotional responses. It made her leery, “I seemed to recall my assistance being required in solving the murder of a one Margaret Harris, Miss. Woodson.”

Delia blanched, her uncertainty growing as she stared bemused, “You said the case wasn’t interesting or worth your time.”

“It’s not.” Sherlock iterated stonily, “But since you seemed intent on running headfirst into trouble, I thought it best to intervene before you did something reckless. Though I see I’m already too late on that account.”

Acidic words danced on the tip of her tongue, but by some odd strength, she kept them at bay. Her attention soundly stuck upon his anger. Delia didn’t understand it, was galled by it... she hated it, “You’re angry.”

“I’m aware.” He answered quietly, making her huff.

Her lips pursed as barely kept reign of her irritation, “Why?”

The air in the room seemed to chill with her question and she had to bite back a gasp as his full attention bore down on her like a malevolent cloud. Incredulity shined like a stray beacon against his ferocious storm of muted fury. He stared at her as if she should already know why he was upset, and Delia had never felt more out to sea. For a wild moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be brought back to shore.

“Why?” He growled.

Delia refused to acknowledge the thrill that hard tone sent through her body as she fought to remember she had been the one wronged in this scenario. Not him.

“Perhaps Miss. Woodson, you are more naïve than I thought. After all, it does take a certain amount of oblivion or perhaps ignorance to not realize where exactly you are standing.” Sherlock lectured crisply as he loomed over her small form, “Is it completely lost on you that you stand in what is essentially a high-caliber bordello? That you are before me in your undergarments? That you are very much at risk of being accosted by far worse characters than myself?”

None of those questions truly answered hers about his motives but rather danced around it. He reminded Delia of a boy she had known as a child. He had had a toy train that he adored more than anything. Strangely, he never played with it, but always had it in hand. He would never let another child play with it and was quite protective of this train. It was his toy. No one else's.

An inexplicable dawning began to light her mind as if she were seeing the stars in the night sky for the first time.

Quietly, she prodded him, “I am quite aware, Mr. Holmes. Otherwise, I would not have attempted to defend myself when you did accost me. I understood the risk I took. I also understand that I am not your ward – in any sense of the word. You are not my husband, nor my kin. Your concern for my well being while touching is -”

“Delia.” He barked, making her jump, “Do not insult your intelligence and myself by finishing that sentence.”

Just as quickly as he had lost grip of his temper, he regained it. She blinked at him wide-eyed as she watched him resume his guarded mask. His control was frightening, but also frustrating. So much went on beneath his prickly surface that to see his countenance crumble was... simply illuminating.

Her heart beat a frantic staccato in her chest... she wasn’t ready for such illumination, however. Not now. And most certainly not here. She nearly wanted to cry, especially once she realized that to want it otherwise meant she returned his sentiment.

It simply wasn’t to be born. She did not hold affection for Sherlock Bloody Holmes.

And yet...

A quiet strangled question left her lips before she could stop herself, “Why are you here, Sherlock?”

His mouth opened to answer before swiftly shutting as he studied her – his head tilted to the side and while she could still make out the fury burning in his bright orbs a strange vulnerability winked like a passing star at her before his visage fell into careful neutrality, “You already know the answer, Miss. Woodson. To speak it would simply be redundant, but I will enact upon that sentiment once we have departed this place. Go and get your things.”

A faint battle ensued within her at his words – Delia wanted so badly to push at him. He dragged her before a truth that she was not ready to face, it seemed only fair that he confirmed her suspicions by admitting his care. But the knowledge that Sherlock was present while Margaret was not, weighed heavily on the battle tides.

She found her back stiffening and chin tilting up as she declared, “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Holmes. Least of all with you. I came here for answers, I’m not leaving until I have them.”

That thin veil of danger descended upon her again as Sherlock glowered at her. Goosepimples shivered down her arms under his silent predation, as her belly swam with anticipation. She suddenly felt very much like a lamb lost to a wolf.

Unbidden, a small plea came to her tongue, “Sherlo-”

Abruptly, she found herself pinned to the wall and shock thundered through her veins as she distantly perceived the clips of her skirt yank apart before the flimsy fabric fluttered to the ground. Sherlock’s long fingers delved beneath the hem of her undergarments as his mouth claimed hers in a furious kiss that awoke a tempest in her heart.

Delia squealed, melting into his embrace even as she latched her fingers to his woolen coat to push him away. She barely managed to budge him, when the door swung open admitting a giggling showgirl and her John.

Sherlock growled, his body covering hers effectively from sight as he glowered at the intruding couple, “Room’s taken.”

The man grumbled an apology as he tugged his conquest back out and shut the door behind him. Then and only then did Sherlock return his attention to her. He raised an innocuous brow as he took in her flushed face and gaping expression.

Pleasure twinkled at Delia through his stern visage and she was torn between the need to slap him and a need to taste his lips again. Quietly, he slipped his hand from her drawers and stepped back enough to give her room to breathe. His hungry gaze drifted along her body for a second time as he took in the long expanse of her curved legs.

He swallowed tightly before returning his stormy glare to her face. He left no room for argument as he quietly ordered, “Get your things.”

Yet argue she did, “I’m not -”

His finger came up in warning as he silently dared her to finish that sentence, “You’ll get your answers once I’ve found them. You will not be staying here any longer than it takes for you to find your clothes. Do not test me.”

Still, Delia hesitated, part of her wanted to demand an explanation. Her heart and her mind were of two battles and the sea he had swept her out to, now raged with drowning swells. She didn’t like this confusion, this uncertainty within herself... she wanted answers and not just about Margaret’s murder.

She bit her lip as she fought not to wilt under his demanding stare, “You’re taking the case.”

“If only to keep you out of trouble, yes.” Sherlock intoned almost impatiently. He bent swiping up her skirt and deftly pinned it back in place, “We’ll discuss the matter of your payment, amongst other things once we depart from here – that man was not here to use this room. I don’t know what ears are in the place. So be quick.”

“Sherlock.” She pushed even as he grasped her elbow and ushered her out the door.

He paid her no mind, “Ten minutes, Delia, meet me outside. If I have to come back for you, I will not be pleased.”

He gave her a small nudge towards the stairs, and she couldn’t help but mutter, “You’re not pleased now.”

“Ten minutes.”

The steel in his tone had her scampering for the back as her stomach clenched. She ignored the wave of arousal coursing through her but raised a hand to her still tingling lips as she bit back a smile.

Sherlock Bloody Holmes.

Next Chapter

#Sherlock Holmes #Enola Holmes #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic #Sherlock HolmesXOFC

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sadwizardgirl · 3 years

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Update Episode 7: I WILL DIE FOR DARIAX AND ORYM AND IF ANY HARM BEFALLS THEM I WILL RIOT

#critical role spoilers #critrole spoilers #exu spoilers #critical role

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myriamas · 3 years

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who: nyssaria antaryon @golddcst where: allyrion-martell wedding, just after the riots broke out

For a moment the woman remained seated at the lavish table, listening intently to the words being chanted from the outside courtyard; it were targeted threats directly to their foreign guests. The only way one of their own would be injured would most likely be as a result of the chaos that was threatening to brim; dark orbs briefly shooting toward her sister in law, who seemed to be leading the trail of Reach and Westerland women out of the Great Hall, Myriam herself rose and began to speak to the recognisable faces she had grown up alongside here in Godsgrace. Finally she came across her own father, the elderly Lord Allyrion, who stood close to a balcony - overseeing the archers being stationed.

Gently murmuring some reassuring words to her father, she stepped onto the balcony, silently aiding the archers in their work to light the arrows. It would be a last resort; for to cause damage to Godsgrace was the last of their wishes, though all the Dornish knew they could not allow any of their guests to befall harm upon their own soil, lest the repercussions prove fatal. She felt her other half stood behind her, though perhaps it was her sense of shame at such an event happening within her childhood home upon their guest, under their rule - she was unable to look Nyssaria in the eyes, continuing to silently light the arrows.

It wasn't until she heard a sudden gasp did she turn around, only to notice a stray arrow had been fired from the crowd; and landed directly into Nyssaria's shoulder. For a moment she froze, watching the crimson pool up within the woman’s silks, quickly tearing the fabric from around it. Raising a trembling hand, she pulled Nyssaria back into the Great Hall, her hands stained with blood - she knew not whether to dislodge the arrow; and paid little attention to the shower of flaming arrows being poured down beneath them. "What do I do?" She asked, her voice choked, hands trembling. "Tell me what to do."

#c: nyssaria #nyssaria 002 #ik this is small but i just want it on the blogggggg

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convxction · 3 years

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"Uncle Chrom? Might I ask what your views on Grandmother and Grandfather are? I've heard plenty on the latter, but not from a personal perspective." - Accalon

ask my muse about the people in their lives | accepting | @crestlocked

“Accalon, can I help you?” Chrom stopped walking to face the young man. Does he have more questions about . . .Emmeryn? He would be more than glad to talk to him about her any time. Though, the young man’s inquiry caught him off guard, Chrom’s face colored in discomfort. His blue eyes closed for a moment before he let out a low sigh. “...Of course. Let’s head inside first.”

The captain led his nephew into his tent and the two sat down. “... I believe you know how the war between Ylisse and Plegia came to be, correct? Your grandfather, my father waged a holy war against them. He...caused not Plegia pain alone, but for Ylisse. There was no man who is able to wield a stick was not sent into this war. Ylissean and Plegian hated him--loathed him with every fiber in their bodies. Who knows, perhaps if he had not done it something bad could have happened but...it cost us a lot.” he paused for a moment to breath in. “I wish at times to know what was in his mind when he ordered such a thing. What was he counting on? No death will befall the Ylisseans? Absurd...as a leader and the King he should have seen further than his nose--than his delusions of grandeur. Did he want to be a hero? over everyone’s misfortune and pain? . . . I don’t know. For a long time I hated him, I resented him for putting us through all that pain and suffering but when I became the king myself... I was put to the test more than once and ...honestly...making a decisive decision is harder than anything else.”

Chrom stared a bit at the lantern in his tent then looked back at Accalon, “Your mother had to know that first hand since she was a little.” Yeah, Emmeryn had it worse. “I have vague memories of my father... How...big his hands were whenever he would pat my head. His blue hair that I loved. Glimpse of Falchion by his side was ..majestic. He was kind to me. It did not make sense back then that my father was called a ‘tyrant’, ‘evil’, ‘the exalt line shame’ among others... “ Chrom leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. It was horrible; being hated for something you have nothing to do. Emmeryn took all the blow so he would not be harmed. Even poor Lissa was not safe from the hate.

“My mother...” he has so many questions for her as well. Chrom opened his eyes staring upward, “She just...forgave my father for everything. She loved him like no one had loved anybody. I don’t know if it was a blind faith in him or truly... there was something we didn’t know. She didn’t talk about him, or why he had done such a thing. Actually, she didn’t have the energy to go on arguments with anyone; being pregnant with Lissa was already taking a toll on her. Losing my father... wounded her. She ... I gradually forget how she looked like. Her voice is barely ringing in my ears anymore. The nurses say that Lissa could grow up to be a copy of how mother looked like.” perhaps then he could remember how she looks like. “If it weren’t for the family portrait...well, what remains of it.” you could not expect not to have a riot in the castle when everything went south. Some things were stolen, some were destroyed--the family portrait was barely saved by the Falcon Knights who were there in the castle to protect the Queen.

“To us, ...to me...mother and father were ... great people. I don’t know what had transpired back then to flip our lives like this. Knights looked up to father, now no one dares to think of him anymore. Mother... some badmouth her for being a foolish queen to not had stopped the king when he went on a rampant. To me they’re....my parents...I hate my father, I won’t deny it, it’s just...why...” eyebrows furrowed grieving what he lost, what he didn’t know...

“Apologies, I went on tangent ...again, heh. Accalon, what do you think when heard about them?”

#crestlocked #crestlocked (accalon.)#⚔ic.⚔ (let my action prove my worth)#⚔answer.⚔ (final answer)#[cries for krumb.

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mochaout · 6 years

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grandma and the lessons she taught

she asked me to be strong while they all watched and I became a statute

I knew what the moment required and I did what I had to, to get through

with each swing of the extremely large tree branch I imagined I was encased in protection

I erected the thickest fabrication of armor and soothed my mind, this was how she showed affection

if there was nothing else I had learned to that point, I knew how to appear strong

my strength was more than physical, I reprogrammed the thoughts in my head from “this is wrong”

adopting the words of my wise hair stylist, “it takes pain to be beautiful”

and it was required while I was the example, I would always be dutiful

no tears fell although the small audience of cousins gasped between hits

I was impenetrable and void of outward emotion while she did not miss

I counted ten points of contact as my skin became like the hardest metal

After so many strikes peace began to settle

I knew she would be finished soon as she had six more children waiting their turn

I became hardened and I could not allow myself to have concern

If I could withstand it so could they

I was the embodiment that they would live to see another day

“Take it like a woman like C did” she said to them as tears streamed down their face

What I wanted to give to absorb all their fear and pain and hold them in an embrace

The little girl who knew how to ‘woman up’ at the tender age of ten

But so did many of us, however not every one could mentally survive the devils den

I found my strength when I was four

When he took me in the bathroom and locked the bathroom door

And when my grandma returned home I told her

And with the thinnest phone cord she beat me into believing it did not occur

In those moments I learned there were things better left quiet

I became her favorite sure not to incite any riots

I was her little talented soldier

Able to hold the world and their pain on my shoulders

unfazed

but not unscathed

every time they entered me small parts became lost and broken

I identified with the illusion that I was special and had been chosen

Anything I could do to reconcile my reality

While the conflicts inside me sparked a duality

I could exist in two worlds simultaneously

Erecting the version needed spontaneously

I learned how strength should look but not feel

I had to become numb to survive the harm that was all too real

I flipped the switch and became void

And as life would have it I began to embody a light that was destroyed

Imagine trying to tear down something that has made itself impenetrable

Being crushed under the tragedy of repeated harm was inevitable

I learned how love was pain

And the catalyst for brilliance to become insane

It is not natural to have to embrace abuse

To count on your next misuse

But when it becomes normal, well it is then accepted and expected

And all the experiences become a part of the truth collected

You see this tale is only part of what took place

To take away my elemental power

To make me succumb to the sickness wanting to devour

My very essence

To remove me from the present

And hold me prisoner in the dark past with no visions of the future

Despair growing and festering like an invasive tumor

Nobody understands what it took to be tough

How my voice was robbed of saying, “please, no more, I’ve been through enough”

Instead I held my voice until I knew I would be secure

And as an adult I had to unpack these truths to assure

My voice could be used for those who too have learned how to be quiet

To face the demons in darkness and be silently compliant

My grandma has now gone on to glory

And all remember her as a saint in her old age, but she was predatory

Against all the young girls in her care

She provided the environment for harm to befall many to be fair

I understand people make choices and can be repentant of their mistakes

However, if there is no recognition the cycle does not break

And today I say to all my fellow brothers and sisters who endured the cycles others failed to end

You survived and I understand how this type of strength may make you feel like you pretend

But understand forgiveness is for you

It was never for them, however, don’t ever forget their misuse

It is the history that should teach and it is left up to you and I

To close those chapters so the next generation of girls and boys will not have to falsify

what it means to be strong

because my understanding of the concept was always wrong

when my pain was used to harden me and try to make me forget

the first time someone decided to attempt to rob me of my innocence

—MochaOut

I’ve learned how to be strong by giving a voice to the things most will not talk about in an effort to prevent others from learning ‘strength’ while pain remains silent.

#mochaout #back to the writers den #parading-poetry #poets on tumblr #my dark light #recognizingthevoiceless #black poets on tumblr #black writers on tumblr

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mrfunnybone · 7 years

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world building: #2

The Story of Hells Church

Warning: May contain sensitive material. All religion in my Undertale universe is fictional and has no real-world counterpart.

The war between monsters and man didn’t come overnight. Rather, it built, piece by piece, event by event, over a period of years. While there were many sad and troubling moments during that time, none quite come close to what happened at Hells Church.

Originally featured as the local church for Barsclow a large town for its day, which mainly (but not exclusively) featured human priests and priestesses. The building once stood beautifully carved in stone and brick and functioned not only as a place of spiritual growth, but a place of education, an orphanage, and occasional hospital.

It also served as providing sanctuary for those in need, as did most churches of the time. Within those walls, anyone claiming sanctuary was meant to befall no harm, legal or otherwise. That being the case, as monsters around Barsclow began “disappearing” one by one, many families grew fearful of what was to come and so gave their children to the church under Sanctuary Law.

While their fear was correct, the assumptions that such actions would keep their children safe was not. Through an order of the reigning noble house, soldiers were sent to empty the town of its monster population, and the church was not exempt from this.

The priests on duty attempted to withhold entry from the soldiers, and when they refused to back down or hand over the monster children, they were slaughtered. Young and old priestesses alike hurriedly gathered who they could down into the cellar to hide, but a young page ended up giving away their hiding place in exchange for his friends’ life.

Herded like cattle, the priestesses, young pages, and children ranging from infant to pre-pubescent were killed within the cellar and along the hallways from those who attempted to escape. The walls and flooring became caked with blood and dust alike.

Naturally, the citizens of Barsclow soon rioted, grief and anger fueling their fires as they attacked both the soldiers and noble house. In the end, though, through much fighting and loss, the noble house won out and through a mass of fires nearly the entire town of Barsclow was wiped away from history.

It was the igniting event that sent Monsters and Humans into an official war.

However, the church building remained. Nothing appeared able to destroy it, despite repeated efforts. It stood the test of time and remains today, even in the modern era. Machines would mysteriously stop functioning within a certain radius to the building, construction workers would quit within the first day of work due to “unexplainable circumstances” within and around the church.

While the history of what happened there was left a mystery until recent years, there appeared to be a unanimous decision that something had occurred there. Many have been hired to cleanse the area, but upon inspection of the building, all have refused to go past the main entrance.

“Where evil occurs, evil will gather. It will fester and breed. In order to rid of it, one must open themselves, and I fear that what is living inside is too powerful and will consume me if I step any further.”

For a bit owners of the building boasted it as a tourist attraction for the paranormal enthusiastic. According to the testaments of prior visitors, entering the church brought an “an incredible weight on your chest and throat”. Most reported tearing up when entering the building, and each one stated that the cellar brought out extreme emotions. For some grief, others anger. Some became so overwhelmed that they didn’t go past the cellar door and left the building altogether— keeping in mind that these visitors had no prior information of what had happened there.

One group paid to spend the night in the old church for paranormal research, but were found dead the next morning of mysterious causes. Per friends and family, they were a happy, well-adjusted group with bright futures ahead of them.

The Barsclow Church was hence renamed Hells Church, and has been closed to the public ever since.

#ᵈᵉᵗᵃᶦᶫˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᶫᵈ ᵍᵒ ʳᵒᵘᶰᵈ (world building)#ᵐᵃᶰ ᶦ ᵈᶦᵈᶰ'ᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃᶫ ᶦᵗ ᶦ ˢʷᵉᵃʳ (repost)#((Gosh I have so much I need to move over from the old blog still!))#((I'll work on it bit by bit))

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bldgrelationshipwgod · 5 years

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youtube

The Battle with the Flesh: Pleasing God with R.C. Sproul [Nov.07/19]

In Paul’s letter to the church at Rome, Romans 13:12 & he makes this comment:

Romans 13:12-14 The night is far spent, & the day is at hand, let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, & let us put on the armour of light. Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting & drunkenness, not in chambering & wantonness, not in strife & envying. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.

Now I’m sure that many of you are aware of a very unusual historical incident that is associated with this passage.

How many of you have an idea of what I’m talking about?

Back centuries ago, there was a young man who was very brilliant & very wild, whose mother was a Christian. His mother prayed for him daily, hoping that this young man would see the errors of his ways, & so on.

On one occasion, after allegedly having been out all night, carousing & now was in a stupor, he was making his way along the side of a garden.

And there were some children, playing in the garden. They were playing a child’s game, where a refrain was used in the game, that the kids called out one to another; & the refrain was this: Pick up & read.

This man, who was walking by, stopped in his tracks & had this overwhelming sense of the intrusion into his life of divine providence.

For there in the garden he saw a copy of the NT.

And he had just heard this children shouting, “Pick-up & read!” So he walked over & allowed the Scriptures to fall open wherever it did.

And when it did, his eyes fell upon these words: “Not in rioting & drunkenness ..make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.” [Romans 13:13-14]

When he read those words, it was as if each word of that text were an arrow that pierced his soul.

And his conscience was so agitated by it, that on the spot, he was converted to Christianity. His name as I’m sure you recognize by now, was Aurelius Augustinus Hipponensis [November 13, 354 AD - August 28, 430 AD]

Later the bishop of Hippo, & considered by virtually every historian to be the greatest theologian in the first 1000 years of the Christian church.

Augustin was converted by a passage that spoke directly to the conflict in life, between the flesh & the spirit. _____________________________________________________

I remember just a few years ago, Rod Serling (who was the creator of the Twilight Zone) entered into a business relationship with Bennett Cerf & a group of other men, who were trying to find ways to discover new talent in the literary world. They set up different contests to get young writers to become involved in this particular enterprise. As part of this venture, of these various men, they each took one of the English classics in literature, & wrote a critical review of it.

Bennett Cerf perhaps would write about Shakespeare, & somebody else on Milton, & so on.

Well in any case, Rod Serling was assigned to write a critical review of Saint Augustin’s famous work: The Confessions.

>> How many of you incidentally have read the Confessions of St. Augustin?

Okay that’s a very small number of you, & if the number is the same on television, let me admonish you right now & say this: my mother used to say it, in a situation like that, & she would take a finger from this hand (both forefingers) & a finger from this hand, & she would put that together like this (shame shame). And she would say: Shame on you.

Now listen if you’ve been a Christian for 1yr, & you haven’t read the Confessions of St. Augustin, shame on you, that is a classic! That we need to be exposed to.

Now here Rod Serling read it & in his review, he said in scathing remarks of criticism, that in his judgment this book, was one of the most overrated books in the history of Western literature. He said, “it simply does not deserve the status & the fame, that it has enjoyed over the centuries.”

And in this criticism, the point that made him so severe was he was so convinced the book was written by somebody who had a neurotic preoccupation with guilt.

And he called attention to one passage in the Confessions, that would illustrate his judgment that Augustin had this adolescent neurotic preoccupation with guilt.

It was the story, where Augustin recalled as an old man, the things that he had done in his life, about which he was most ashamed. And he recalled an incident that took place, when he was a teenager where he became involved with some other young guys in an adolescent prank, where these fellas went into somebody’s private orchard & denuded a pear tree. They helped themselves to the pears that belonged to somebody else, & then left. And Augustin now, 50 yrs later, is mourning over this childhood prank. And Rod Serling says, “Give me a break, Augustin, I mean what’s the matter with you. I mean people are out here guilty of adultery/murder/grand larceny, & these serious things, & here’s this guy all exercised over stealing a few pears when he was a kid!” But Augustin explained what it was that made him feel so remorseful. It wasn’t the bare act of stealing this fruit. But he said it this way, “As I considered my life, & I consider the things that I have done that were evil. I could see that there were certain sins I fell into, that though they were not excusable, they were certainly understandable. Yes Augustin confessed to all kinds of sexual sins, as a young man fathering illegitimate children & so on. And he had remorse for that, but he said, “THAT I CAN understand.” There’s a strong biological drive, to become involved sexually, & that temptation can befall a person when they are at a weak moment (& anyone can succumb to it). “That I can understand! Doesn’t excuse it, but I can understand it. I can understand a man who is starving, stealing a loaf of bread. I don’t think a man who is starving has a RIGHT to steal a loaf of bread,” Augustin said, “but I can understand the force of the temptation to do it.” He said, “but I stole pears when I didn’t like pears.”

That is there was nothing that would stimulate my passions to steal those pears, except one thing; & that was the sheer joy in doing something that I knew was wrong.

What Augustin was lamenting, was the exercise of his fallen nature of his flesh, for the sheer joy doing it.

It’s been said that one of the most selfish of all crimes ever committed is vandalism. Because vandalism gives no benefit to the person who performs the deed, other than the sheer pleasure of harming someone else or someone else’s property. Usually in the case of people they don’t even know. Just last week Bob had the back window of his car shot out. When the police came they said, “What? How many in the neighbourhood? Something like 50 cases where kids just went joy riding & were just emptying their guns into people’s cars. People they didn’t know, people that had not done anything to them. There was no relationship or animosity, but for the sheer fun of doing something evil. The kids did several thousand dollars worth of damage to other people’s property.

But ladies & gentlemen, that’s not something that is done simply by wild unbridled evil people.

Just last night I was reading once again, the history of the Holocaust in World War II. And I was particularly reading what happened in Poland, just prior to the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto. And the creation of the camp at Treblinka, where the beginning stages of the final solution of genocide was being worked out. And I read about women who were pregnant into their 9th month, who were forced stand up in cattle carts & give birth to their children without even having the benefit of lying down. And where the mother & the child both perished. And I read these atrocities over & over again; & I kept saying, “How is it possible?! That one human being could do these things to another human being?” And as astonishing as that day is, I ask in the case of the Holocaust it wasn’t one human being doing it to other human beings. IT WAS 8 MILLION human beings suffering at the hands of a network of people, who were involved in this, daily, systematically. At Auschwitz, 8K people every day were cremated & murdered! Do you realize how many people it takes to murder 8K people everyday?

So this wasn’t an isolated Charles Manson.

This was something that revealed the shadow side of the human heart.

What Joseph Conrad called, “the heart of darkness.” _____________________________________________________

Paul speaks of a state of humanity that he calls the flesh; & we’ve already noticed that Luther said that the great triade of enemies for the Christian growth contained the world, the flesh, & the devil.

Now when we’re talking about the flesh, I want us to understand without getting into the technicalities of it, that when the Bible talks about the struggles that we go through with the flesh it is not simply about the body.

The struggle between the flesh & the spirit cannot be equated with a struggle between the body & the soul, or the body & the mind, but rather what the NT is talking about is the struggle between the power of sin (in our natural fallen humanity) against the influence of God’s Holy Spirit.

So the whole struggle in the process of sanctification involves what Paul calls WARFARE!

There’s a war going on. And it’s a war between the flesh of mankind & the Spirit of God. Now I get so irritated when I hear preachers stand up & say, “here come to Jesus & all your problems will be over.” Because that’s just simply a lie.

My life didn’t get complicated until I became a Christian.

Before I was a Christian, though I was not happy I had a relative degree of peace. I knew that I was doing things that I ought not to be doing. I had not totally annihilated my conscience, but I was on the way to it.

By repeating certain actions, you can so sheer the conscience & put callouses upon the soul, that where you once felt a little twinge of guilt, now you can do these things through repetition that don’t bother you anymore.

You experience what the Bible calls hard heartedness. But when I came to Christ, I found a new conscience.

And so now, things that I didn’t worry about before, became matters of ethical concern; & life was complicated. It wouldn’t it have been nice if I could say: what I did when I was converted was I traded in the flesh, bought into the Spirit & lived happily ever after.”

That’s the struggle of sanctification. Though the power of the flesh is broken, & the power of the flesh is now subordinate to the Spirit in very real measure in regeneration. The flesh is not totally annihilated at conversion.

The war goes on!

Now listen to what the Apostle says in Romans 8:4-6, “That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life & peace. Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can it be. So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.”

What is the topic of this series of lectures? PLEASING GOD

Here the Apostle says those who are in the flesh CANNOT please God. That God is not pleased, He’s never pleased by a lifestyle that is characterized by the flesh.

Now when he says that, it means that what God hates is physical things.

So often that’s the way this verse has been interpreted; & other verses like it, so the Christian thinks that to be spiritual means to deny the body. And that anything that has anything to do with physicality must necessarily be wrong. That’s why we’ve seen incidences arise in church history, where Christians got involved in all kinds of rigorous forms of asceticism [lifestyle characterized by abstinence from sensual pleasures]; forms of self-denial, & self-flagellation [flogging]. Where you go hide in a cell, like a hermit, & you beat yourself, & you deny yourself food & you get skinny as a rail. And you take all kinds of vows for celibacy because sex is wrong (not only outside of marriage, but inside marriage). Food is wrong. Anything that brings physical pleasure is considered wrong.

Ladies & gentlemen, that was invented by Manichæism, not by Christianity. _____________________________________________________

The first affirmation of the God who makes the physical world is when He look at it & says that’s good.

Plato came to the conclusion that anything physical is so far removed from pure spirit, that by its very physicality it is imperfect.

So the ideal from the Greek for redemption, would be to be released from the body. The body is the prison house of the soul.

Not so in Judaism Christianity, we don’t believe in resurrection from the body, but resurrection of the body.

So when the Bible talks about the warfare between flesh & Spirit, it’s not saying that matter is evil, spirit good.

If you look in Galatians, Paul sets forth the works of the flesh. What does he say? Works of the flesh includes such things: drunkenness, adultery, fornication (those would indicate what? Physical sin).

Drunkenness results when we have a physical appetite/desire for alcohol & we over indulge ourselves in those things, & so we get blotto.

We can obviously see the connection between the body & the action there. Adultery is the physical sin, it’s succumbing to biological instincts & passions, where God has said No!

But if you look at that list, he goes on & speaks about: LYING, ENVY, HATRED. Now obviously you can’t lie & envy & hate outside of your bodies. But they are not physical actions are they.

>> They have to do with attitudes & dispositions of the heart.

If you look at this: ENVY. I mentioned earlier that the sin of vandalism.

Why do you suppose vandalism takes place? Vandalism is simply the outward action of inward ENVY.

The basic attitude of a vandal is this: If I can’t enjoy what you possess, I’m going to make sure you can’t enjoy it either. S/he doesn’t simply steal it, for themselves, but rather s/he destroys it!

So that no one can enjoy it. There’s a certain sense of it being a degree worse than theft. But it comes out of a spirit of envy towards other people’s possession.

Do you have any idea how destructive to human relationships envy is? How many ways people are violated that are motivated by envy? How man

How many ways people are violated that are motivated by envy?

How many times you’ve been slandered, you’ve been attacked?

>> Unjustly because of someone’s envy...

Do you ever wonder why in God’s ordering of priorities, God puts envy in the top 10 of the laws thou shall not covet! _____________________________________________________

The NT teaches us that if somebody else receives a benefit, something good happens to them: We’re supposed to rejoice in their good fortune!

Rather than to rejoice in their fall. There is an expression, a cynical expression in golf. I don’t like it.

“Every golf shot makes somebody happy.” LOL, if a guy hits it in the water, it doesn’t make him happy, but it certainly makes his opponent happy.

But what I love to see in a golf tournament, is where everybody is rooting for everybody else to play their very best. And to have somebody win it, rather than somebody else lose it. THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!

>> You’re not wishing bad fortune on another person. That’s what we do when we succumb to ENVY.

So what I’m trying to get at is this: the FLESH refers to the old fallen nature.

Now in the time remaining, let me ask this question: Bible says that to be carnally minded is death, spiritually minded is life/peace.

But it says you are not in the flesh, you’re in the SPIRIT!

But here’s the problem: You may be in the SPIRIT, but you’re still alive & you still envy & yes even still commit adultery, get drunk.

In other words we continue to perform the works of the FLESH, even though we’re in the SPIRIT. Now I know there are some who say, “you’re either in the FLESH, or in the SPIRIT.” That you can’t be a carnal Christian.

Now when Bill Bright says that, I think he speaks to it in a very significant pastoral way. What he’s saying to people: Look you have these influences, this warfare going on, who is going to be on the THRONE?

Who is going to be the VICTOR? Are you going to live in acquiescence to the Holy Spirit? or are you going to indulge the flesh for the rest of your life?

He’s talking about a SPIRIT filled life; that sees the emphasis is on the level of the SPIRIT (rather than on the flesh).

But some people have devised from that, from others, the theories there are different kinds of Christians, ie:

Carnal Christian who doesn’t have the Spirit of God

Spiritual Christian who’s no longer carnal

Ladies & gentlemen, anyone who does not have the SPIRIT of CHRIST is not a carnal Christian, s/he is carnal non-Christian.

So in that sense carnal Christian is a contradiction, in terms.

If a person is only flesh, what the NT calls flesh (not the Holy Spirit dwelling in them), then s/he is outside the Kingdom of God.

>> They can’t possibly please GOD.

And yet if a person has the Holy Spirit dwelling in them, that person may do carnal things & still struggle with the flesh, but s/he is a spiritual person.

It becomes a matter of degree of how much we submit to the Holy Spirit.

A person who pleases GOD, is a person who seeks the fruit of the Spirit in their life.

#world flesh devil #God hates physical things #ENVY #rejoice in their good fortune #not wishing bad fortune

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donman2112 · 7 years

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AOL Mail (1780)

Can't say that I agree with all of this, but there's some really good stuff here..........

The following has been attributed to Lewis Napper, a Jackson, Mississippi, computer programmer. He didn't expect his essay -- a tart 11-point list of "rights" Americans don't have -- to become an Internet legend. NEW PREAMBLE TO THE CONSTITUTION: We the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt-free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great- grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt ridden, delusional. We hold these truths to be self evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim they require a..... Bill of NON-Rights.' ARTICLE I: You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV, or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything. ARTICLE II: You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone -- not just you! You may leave the room, turn the channel, express a different opinion, etc.; but the world is full of dummies, and probably always will be. ARTICLE III: You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful; do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy. ARTICLE IV: You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found, and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes and freeloaders who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes and freeloaders. ARTICLE V: You do not have the right to free health care. That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care. ARTICLE VI: You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you get the blue juice. ARTICLE VII: You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat, or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure. ARTICLE VIII: You do not have the right to a job. All of us sure want you to have a job and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful. ARTICLE IX: You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to PURSUE happiness, which by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an over abundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights ARTICLE X: This is an English speaking country. We don't care where you came from, English is our language. Learn it! Lastly ARTICLE XI: You do not have the right to change our country's history or heritage. This country was founded on the belief in one true God. And yet, you are given the freedom to believe in any religion, any faith, or no faith at all; with no fear of persecution. The phrase IN GOD WE TRUST is part of our heritage and history, sorry if you are uncomfortable with it. AUTHOR'S FOOTNOTE: If you agree, share this with a friend. No, you don't have to, and nothing tragic will befall you if you don't. I just think it's about time common sense is allowed to flourish. Sensible people of the United States must speak out because if you do not, who will?

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mrfunnybonearchives · 7 years

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World Building #1

The Story of Hells Church

Warning: May contain sensitive material.

Originally featured as the local church for Barsclow, a large town for its day, which mainly (but not exclusively) featured human priests and nuns. The building once stood beautifully carved in stone and brick, and functionated not only as a place of spiritual growth but for education in writing/reading to those able, an orphanage, and occasional hospital.

It also served as providing sanctuary for those in need, as did most churches of the time. Within those walls, anyone claiming sanctuary was meant to befall no harm. That being the case, as monsters around Barsclow began “disappearing” one by one, many families grew fearful of what was to come and so gave their children to the church under Sanctuary Law.

While their fear was correct, the assumptions that such actions would keep their children safe was not. Through order of the reigning noble house, soldiers were sent to empty the town of its monster population, and the church was not exempt from this.

The priests on duty attempted to withhold entry from the soldiers, and when they refused to back down or hand over the monster children, they were slaughtered. Young and old nuns alike hurriedly gathered who they could down into the cellar to hide, but a young page ended up giving away their hiding place in exchange for his friends’ life.

Herded like cattle, both nuns, young pages, and children ranging from infant to pre-pubescent were killed within the cellar and along the hallways from those who attempted to escape. The walls and flooring became caked with blood and dust alike.

It was the igniting event that sent Monsters and Humans into an official war.

However, the church building remained. Nothing appeared able to destroy it, despite repeated efforts. It stood the test of time and even in the modern era refused to fall. Machines would mysteriously stop functioning within a certain radius to the building, construction workers would quit within the first day of work due to “unexplainable circumstances” within and around the church.

For a bit owners of the building boasted it as a tourism attraction for the paranormal enthusiastic. According to testaments of visitors prior, entering the church brought an “an incredible weight on your chest and throat”. Most reported tearing up when entering the building, and each one stated that the cellar brought out extreme emotions. For some grief, others anger. Some became so overwhelmed by fear that they didn’t go passed the cellar door and left the building altogether—keeping in mind that these visitors had no prior information of what had happened there.

One group paid to spend the night in the old church for paranormal research, but when found the next morning, had apparently committed joint suicide. Per friends and family, it was not something they would have planned out prior, and in fact many had bright futures ahead of them.

The Barsclow Church was hence renamed Hells Church, and has been closed to the public ever since.

#world building #Undertale #Pre-Barrier Days #content warning

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britishhajjtravel · 6 years

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Confronting Rumors

With the advent of the powerful social media tools there has been a surge in rumor-mongering. Rumor-mongering has become a serious business. Irresponsible media have added fuel to the fire in spreading rumors.

Communal riots of Muzzaffarnagar in India in the year-2013 which displaced 40,000 Muslims as refugees was blamed on a WhatsApp video which enticed the majority community to carry out the riots. Continuous efforts are carried out to create chaos and division in the Muslim lands. The flames of false news and vile propaganda have engulfed clean and unbiased minds. Even a mature and wise individual finds it challenging to distinguish between the truth and the falsehood. In fact, Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) foretold the sequel of trials and that will befall the Muslim community after his departure. Rumor-mongers did exist in his time. Islamic texts and the lessons from the life of Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) speak volumes of how to tackle ungrounded rumors. Knowledge: Knowledge of authentic Islamic texts protects an individual from all sorts of chaos, be it in his personal life or societal life. In fact, Allah praised those who possess knowledge. “Only those fear Allah, from among His servants, who have knowledge.” (Qur’an 35:28) “Allâh will raise those of you who have believed among you and those who were given knowledge, by degrees. And Allah is aware of what you do.” (Qur’an 58:11) “Say: ‘Are those who know equal to those who do not know?’ Only they will remember [who are] people of understanding.” (Qur’an 39:9) A scholar gauges a calamity before it commences and a person of little knowledge realizes it later. Ignorance is impetus to calamities and knowledge is the elixir. Verify the news that reaches you and return it to the experts: Among our worst habits is to forward every news that reaches us. Most of us hardly verify it or even try to authenticate it. If we were to follow the following the instructions in the following verse of the Holy Qur’an, a lot of troubles would be ceased. “And when there comes to them information about [public] security or fear, they spread it around. But if they had referred it back to the Messenger or to those of authority among them, then the ones who [can] draw correct conclusions from it would have known about it. And if not for the favor of Allah upon you and His mercy, you would have followed Satan, except for a few.” (Qur’an 4:83). It is as clear as day from the Qur’an that every rumor or news that reaches us should be referred back to those who have knowledge and the experts who draw proper conclusions, in order to protect yourself from slipping into the rumor-mongering. In the time of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), the rumor that the Prophet (peace be upon him) divorced all his wives spread like wild fire in Madinah. The Prophet’s companions assembled in the Prophet’s Mosque; they were worried and were talking about this drastic step. Many people took part in this talk, but Omar ibn Al-Khattab did not. Omar ibn Al-Khattab laid a great example for us to follow, by insisting to directly question Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) about the news and to clarify the issue and publicly refute the rumors. People have caused a great mayhem due to their attitude of spreading and sharing all news that reaches them. Beware of being overly enthusiastic. Act judiciously and patiently: Thousands of youth fall prey to radical organizations and their ideologies due to their overly enthusiastic attitude, and some of them eventually joined terrorist organizations. Had they taken care with wisdom, patience, forbearance, they would have remained a great asset to the community, and many lives would have been spared. ‘Better to be safe than sorry’ comes vivid in reacting calmly to rumors. Sahih Muslim mentions an incident of a delegation that visited Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) from Bahrain. Moved by their over-enthusiasm and anticipation to meet the Prophet all the visitors jumped off their horses and rushed to the Prophet. The Prophet (peace be upon him) observed their leader who acted calmly by tying up all the camels and arranging their luggage. Later, he showered, changed his clothes, wore perfume, came to the Masjid, prayed in the Masjid, and eventually greeted the Prophet. The Prophet (peace be upon him) said to the leader, “You have two qualities which Allah loves and His Messenger loves; forbearance and patience.” Being judicious and patient are the traits loved by Allah and He bestows them upon whom He wishes. The lack of patience and an overly zealous nature have caused us to react to every single piece of news and rumor. Staying in touch with moderate scholars: The scholars who teach the Islamic texts, narrate to you the traditions and sayings of the Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) and interpret the religion as interpreted by the righteous companions are upon moderation. Those who speak out their own personal opinions and provoke youth and spread radical views are not to be followed. Righteous scholars are like stars. The way stars guide the travelers to the correct destination, so do the scholars. The way stars beautify the sky, so do the existence of scholars among us. The way shooting stars strike the devils, scholars strike the devils who spread corruption and promote anarchy and terrorism. In conclusion, I say, as a Muslim we have to equip ourselves with divine knowledge, rightful behavior, truth and moderation, patience and forbearance; and to nurture the nature of verification, authentication, and analyzing. One must avoid being susceptible to fall prey to any kind of propaganda, rumor-mongering, and chaos. With this we can set up a just, moderate, and balanced society where rumor-mongers cannot harm the peace and wellbeing of our communities.

#Hadith #Quran #Peace #Islam #Muslim

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