#(its difficult to tell if silas is being literal there)

[fkapommel]

Harrow's end, from least to most certain

[whumpy-wyrms]

cannot stop thinking about how whumpy it must’ve been when i was given the anesthesia and passed out earlier. like even before the laughing gas i was SHAKING and TREMBLING in fear i fucking HATE needles. but i was also smiling the whole time because my fear response isn’t fight flight fawn or freeze it’s just. to laugh. for some reason. anyway after i got the laughing gas i was smiling and giggling even more and also shaking a lot more in both fear of what was gonna happen and also probably the laughing gas. they told me to take deep breaths which i did, still freaking out though. i started panicking even more when they put the IV in my arm, like wow that was horrifying i must’ve looked sooooo scared wooow.. so much fear.. (whumpers you know where to find me). anyway i eventually followed their advice and took deep breaths, knowing that it would make the laughing gas effect me quicker, but i did it anyway because its all i could do.

(more under the cut because i couldn’t shut up and this got long)

and guys. guys. THEN. then i started thinking about Anton and imagining i was his test subject and he was just doing an experiment on me and let me tell you. the way pure CALMNESS just WASHED over my entire body. like before i walked into the room i was like “anton save mee save me anton haha lol”. and then anton DID save me. in a way. but yeah i mean i KNEW that would happen because thinking about anton literally always calms me down anyway but i just thought that was funny lmao. woow

okay so then they injected me with the anesthesia. i don’t think i really felt it. then they put a rubber thing in my mouth to keep it wide open, and i was just thinking “haha wow they gagged me that’s gotta be one of my favorite whump tropes.” i just stared straight ahead (i couldn’t really turn my head anyway with the way the chair was set up), struggling hard to keep my eyes open, breathing really deeply, barely able to form a coherent thought.

i do NOT remember falling asleep. like one moment i was sitting there eyes wide and breathing heavily, staring at the doctors on either side of me, and the next i was like all woozy flopping around in the chair, head lolling to the side as the doctors were telling me to wake up. it was sort of a blur, i had NO idea what was going on at ALL. i remember slurring as i talked, telling the doctors i wanted to keep my wisdom teeth. they laughed and asked why and i just kept repeating that i wanted them to let me keep them (they did let me keep them! i’m gonna put them in a little jar like a mad scientist). then i kept asking for my phone and they gave it to me. they put me in a wheelchair to take me to the car because i could NOT walk, i was stumbling around, completely unable to stand or sit up straight, and when we got to the car i just flopped into the passenger seat like i was DIZZY. and i was also a bit nauseous. blood in my mouth and all that. oh i also had gauze in my mouth which definitely made talking a lot more difficult

so i really barely talked, i don’t think i said much else which i’m kinda happy for because i was high as FUCK and did not wanna ramble about a bunch of weird oc lore to my mom. i KNOW i would’ve talked about anton and/or silas nonstop. but i just went on my phone instead which is when i made all those posts from earlier LOL. those typos were genuinely not on purpose at all. i could not type. i’m being fully serious.

here’s a screenshot from my discord server of me attempting to type “holy shit i can’t type.” and as you can see, it was, well, TRUE

anyway yeah i just curled up in my seat on the car ride home, i wasn’t on my phone much because i was still really tired and it was hard to keep my eyes open and stay awake. the car seat was leaned back really far so i was laying down and could not see out of the car windows (but my eyes were closed so it didn’t really matter). but i just remember feeling every turn of the car and trying to guess where we were driving as if i was a whumpee who’d just been kidnapped and was trying to memorize the directions. as you can tell i knew this situation would be whumpy as fuck and didn’t hesitate to make a bunch of silly connections.

so then we got home and there’s not much else that happened. i just took a lot of pills and washed out my mouth and put more gauze in and then went to sleep. it didn’t hurt that much at all because of. the drugs and stuff. i slept for a long time and woke up feeling back to normal, in the way i wasn’t high af anymore. yeah so now my mouth kinda hurts but i have painkillers so it’s fine. i ate lasagna like 20 minutes ago. i’m probably not supposed to eat lasagna. i did it anyway (i took very very teeny tiny nibbles it was very basil core).

anyway that’s it i think! dunno why i wanted to share this whole experience but i thought it was kinda funny the way i kept finding whump in everything hahaha (like i said, my actual fear response is literally to LAUGH and GIGGLE at everything in fear. this needs to be used more in this community imo. and i think… i have a new oc for that actually…. teehee….. ominous.. very ominous dot dot dots…..)

but really this isn’t as bad as i thought it’d be. it’s gonna suck to eat a bunch of soft food and stuff but overall it’s not bad. at least for me. obviously this was only my experience and everyone’s will be different. i do kinda see the humor in everything whenever i’m in a bad or painful situation so that might also be why this is easier for me, idk! hope u all found this at least a little entertaining because i know i did haha

[honeynutts]

Get to know the author

Got tagged by @unfocused-notwriter AGES ago~ (thank you!!)

I’ll tag @breakeven2007, @elliewritesstories, and @amerraka, but only if you want to do this along with anyone else if you’d like~!

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason? I have a strong urge to write sci-fi someday, but I'm waiting to finish Mercy. It would be difficult to work on two complicated stories at once. 2. What work of yours, if any, are you embarrassed about existing? Probably this short story I wrote for a stupid creative writing class about a spiteful guy named "Dusty Wolf"... That explains a lot, doesn't it? 3. What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favorite scenes first? Something else? Front to back. I've attempted to write out of order and have also started from the ending-forward, but these do not work for me. If the beginning isn't solid, I can't move on for some reason. 4. Favorite character you’ve written? It's a tie between Joey and Edith. They're both fun to write because they have such bold, colorful personalities, and I'm introverted. They give me the chance to speak whatever comes to mind without holding back no matter how mean or inappropriate. 5. Character you were most surprised to end up writing? Rowan, because I actually hate her? Jessyka! She's got the most shocking motives and is relentless and unapologetic for the messed up things she does. In general, there's a lot to explore through her, even though she's not like the characters I normally write at all. 6. Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now? The origin story with the Creator. Originally, there wasn't an origin story at all and everything in Mercy just existed without a higher entity (besides angels and demons, but they didn't have a purpose) so I came up with a Goddess to balance out the emptiness and also provide a rational for everything that happens. I'll just say that there's a lot of simplifying that needs to be done, but its a lot to fix. 7. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write? I'm enthusiastic until they ask me what I'm working on or if the questions "will you write this for me/will you add me in as a character" comes up. 8. Favorite genre to write? I've always been comfortable with fantasy, but I really want to write sci-fi and I wouldn't mind exploring horror (It just sounds difficult to create fear through words for some reason. Kudos to horror writers.) 9. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration? Listening to music, reading a book, watching a movie, watching an anime, talking to a friend, reading over old ideas, Ted-Talks/inspiration videos in general, and if possible going outside (whether it be going to the store or walking around) all help me get inspired. 10. Write in silence or with background music? Alone or with others? I always listen to music if possible, usually one song on loop. I normally write alone, but I don't mind being around others. Having company is comforting, but I don't write around my friends often enough to be affected. (I MISS THEM A LOT THOUGH :””^>) 11. What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing? The character development has grown a lot, so its not writing with my characters is not like puppetry anymore. Also, the plot is driven by character actions and motives which was really hard to plan out, but worth it. 12. Your weaknesses as an author? Descriptions (especially with setting) and actually writing. I get stuck on opening easily, so I still have to learn how to move on and finish my drafts instead of starting over because of one sentence. 13. Your strengths as an author? I think I have succeeded with character creation and depth. I'm extremely attached to my children and I hope readers will feel the same way someday. They don't feel fictional to me, they are actual people. I love them a lot :^) 14. Do you make playlists for your work? I try to. The longest playlist I have for Mercy only has 10 songs on it and their more like...character theme songs if they were to have them. I have a huge playlist of my favorite songs that I listen through when I write, but I guess that isn't made for just writing so.... 15. When did you start writing? In third grade, we had a project to write a story in class, and I really liked the feeling of making something up as I sat in the coatroom. I also made a Deviantart in that same year and I started RP-ing before I got banned for being under-aged but that's where I really kicked off. (Around fourth or fifth grade, I made the initial premise for Mercy) 16. Are there characters that haunt you? Rowan. I'm just gonna name the ones I remember: Lyra, Haru, Kavanaugh, Avery, Iren, Zaire & Lucas, and Wisteria. 17. If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be? Keep. The. Beginning. Keep. Writing. Its. FINE.

and don’t feel bad for saying no to people when they ask to be/make characters for your story. 18. Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they? No books off the top of my head, but anime wise, Cowboy Bebop has become a standard/major influence for me. I love the story line and the character and the theme behind the entire show. And the soundtrack is pure gold. 19. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc? I just write everything down in writing notebooks or on new documents or whatever. Sometimes I can keep an idea in my head. Everything random and unorganized to be honest. I really should consider fixing that, but I don't have time. :"} 20. Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts? Both! Sometimes I can get into a deep writing kick for a few hours, and other times I write more within a 15 minute break. Just depends on my mood and if there are things stealing my attention. 21. What do you think when you read over your older work? Either "This is actually trash. Why did I write this? I'm so glad I've improved from this." Or "WHAT THE HECK THIS IS ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD WOW WILL I EVER BE ABLE TO REACH THIS LEVEL AGAIN? I'M GONNA PUT THIS IN THE NEW DRAFT!!!" 22. Are there subjects that make you uncomfortable to write? Romance and anything of the like. Its difficult for me, but for some reason I still try and the outcome is always disappointing. :"^) 23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing? I don't wanna get too detailed here, but pretty much my home environment is toxic and is not a fun place to grow up in, so Mercy is like my vent space. Silas is literally a punching bag if you didn't notice. I think he goes through as much as he does because its my way of releasing negative energy in a positive, harmless way. 24. Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story? My favorite thing to teach people is the difference between a graveyard and a cemetery because Silas is a grave digger. (P.S., a graveyard is connected to a church, and a cemetery is not. Silas works in a cemetery.) I also know a lot of cocktails (for Misha's sake as a bartender) even though I don't plan on drinking in the future. 25. Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of. "It was clear from the air on his breath that he was a Jinx as well, but one who wasn't jaded. He told Silas one day that he was "too cold" to let hatred and bitterness consume him. At first, he thought that was a joke, but over the course of sitting next the boy at lunch and shivering in the middle of the summer, he found this to be true. He was the embodiment of ice, as Silas would say, but Dei insisted that he call him the host of winter instead. That was his magic ability."

[gracewithducks]

The Gospel and the Grinch (preached 12/29/2019)

As Christmas Eve approached, our family – like many of yours, I imagine – sat down together to watch the old animated version of Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Our girls, who are five and ten, watched with big sad eyes while the Grinch loaded up his sleigh with all the Whos’ holiday goodies and hauled them all away – and then watched with wonder as the Whos awoke on Christmas morning, walked out of their empty houses, held hands, and started to sing.

 I asked our kids, “What would you do, if we woke up on Christmas morning and the tree was gone, and the lights were gone, and there weren’t any cookies or presents or treats left? What would you do?”

 “We’d be sad and cry,” said one. “I’d be super mad,” said the other.

 And I asked, “Would you feel like singing?”

 That was possibly the loudest, most emphatic “no!” I’ve ever heard.

 Well, at least they’re honest. Then again, I think most of us – if we awoke to find that our garlands and gifts were gone – most of us would be angry; we’d cry, we’d yell, and then we’d call the police.

 When I was younger, it was always very clear to me that the Grinch is the villain in this story. His irrational hatred of Christmas leads him to do unthinkable things: identity fraud, breaking and entering, and of course, theft and destruction of personal property. He’s cruel and heartless, a completely unsympathetic character…

 But then I got a bit older. And I’ve found that more days than not I, too, just can’t handle the noise-noise-noise-noise. Sometimes you just need some peace and quiet; sometimes, I just need to be alone. These days, I often see the Grinch as more of a kindred spirit, a prophet who speaks the truth many of us are thinking but just don’t have the courage to say out loud. The Grinch offers a cutting indictment of the commercialization of Christmas; he gives the Whos a chance to examine what their love of Christmas is really about; he reminds us that the holidays can’t really be jolly or holy if some of us are left on the outside looking in. And he acknowledges that families are messy and kids are loud and sometimes the holidays can just be far too overwhelming – and it’s as true for those of us who are surrounded by people as it is for those of us who are alone.

 Perhaps the Grinch is a prophet, one who speaks with an unpopular voice – not so different from the prophet Hosea, who enacts a difficult object lesson, or perhaps the Grinch is a prophet in the tradition of Jonah, who resented the people God sent to him to help, who tried to run away and, after spending three days in the belly of a great big fish and being puked up on dry land, after preaching reluctantly but so effectively that the people of Nineveh repent – Jonah responds not with celebration but by pouting outside the city walls. The Grinch is a prophet like Elijah, running into the wilderness, thinking he’s the only one who really gets what’s going on. He’s a prophet like John the Baptist, living on the fringes, criticizing the brood of vipers as he lives in a way they don’t understand. Even Jesus escaped from the cities, even Jesus retreated to the wilderness or the mountaintop, even Jesus needed to get away from the pressing crowds sometimes.

 So yeah, maybe I get the Grinch a whole lot more than I used to. The reality is that sometimes we all need silence and solitude. Sometimes we need to escape from it all. The difference, however, is that the Grinch never comes back.

 We actually don’t know whether the Grinch was born there on the outskirts of Whoville, always an outsider looking in, or whether – as the more recent live-action movie suggests – whether he was himself a Who who escaped because he was teased, pressured to conform, unable to ever quite fit in.

 But whatever led the Grinch to his isolated mountaintop, it seems that he isn’t content or happy there. He’s alone, but not alone enough; he can still hear the singing and the shouting from below. Maybe he wants to run away further, but feels trapped… or maybe what he really wants is to go down and join in. Perhaps he hates and resents the happiness and chaos below because, if it were up to him, he’d be a part of it… but he can’t or he won’t join in; he doesn’t know how to bridge the distance, and he feels he isn’t welcome there. So instead he sits angry, excluded, bitter and alone.

 We meet the Grinch up on his mountaintop, angrily passing judgment on the Whos down below, hating the community he’s not part of and condemning the celebrations he can’t understand. And his bitterness leads him to this terrible, horrible idea: his plan to not just judge and hate everyone else’s joy, but to find a way to steal that joy right out from under their feet. It’s a special kind of hardened heart that not only judges what we don’t understand but is determined to destroy it, to shut down any joy that’s not our own.

 There are plenty of Grinches in the world these days: people who, for one reason or another, angrily pass judgment on and try to put a stop to anything they don’t or can’t be part of. It’s as if someone else’s happiness makes us angry: it’s kids breaking the toys because, if I can’t have them, no one can; it’s adults complaining about people who like pumpkin spice too much or people who find joy in having a whole herd of cats at home, people who put their Christmas trees up too early or leave their Christmas lights up too late. We criticize people for loving the wrong kinds of music and cheering for the wrong sports teams; we judge people whose lives are different from our own. You’re doing happiness wrong, we tell them; you’re joyful for the wrong reasons… or you don’t have the right to be joyful at all. We judge each other, and then we try to take everyone’s joy away. We mock and belittle, we pass laws, we build walls, we try to convert others or, if we can’t, to lock them out and keep them away.

 It’s not enough for the Grinch to be sad and bitter; he wants everyone to be sad and bitter, too. It’s not enough for him to decide that the craziness of Christmas isn’t for him; he doesn’t want anyone to celebrate it at all.

 And this is what strikes me so much about the Grinch: he’s so alone. He has no family. No neighbors. No friends. He doesn’t have a circle to stand in, no one with whom to hold hands or lift up a happy song… so he can’t understand what kind of community and joy could possibly lead the Whos to do any of those things on Christmas morning. He doesn’t understand the music; he doesn’t share the laughter… so for the Grinch, it’s all just noise, noise, noise, noise.

 The Grinch thinks if he can steal the stuff of Christmas Day – if he could steal the horns and the toys and the bells and the treats – he can stop Christmas from coming at all. And he tries. He sneaks and he spies; he steals and he lies. And he waits: misery loves company, so he waits – he waits for the chorus of misery to begin.

 But the Whos don’t cry. Instead, they sing. The Whos down in Whoville stand, hand in hand, and they sing – like Paul and Silas singing in the prison cell, with no apparent reason to rejoice, they sing.

 And the Grinch is stunned. He’s perplexed. He’s confused. And famously, he muses: “Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from the store. Maybe Christmas – perhaps – means a little bit more.”

 Maybe. But what? Seuss doesn’t tell us; he lets us fill in the gaps for ourselves. We know what Christmas means though, right? We know that Christmas isn’t about the wrappings and the bows, but Christmas is about the love of God, the baby-king in a manger, come to teach us that God’s love is always with us, just as surely when we’re moping in the mountains as when we gather and join our hands to sing.

 We know what Christmas is about – but sometimes, we forget. We know what it’s about – but I still imagine that, if all those trappings disappeared, we’d find it awfully hard to sing.

 The Whos get it. Instead of looking at one another with suspicion, instead of filing claims and assigning blame, instead of angrily gathering in the center of the town to share their woes compare their losses – they join their hands. And they sing:

 “Christmas Day will always be, just as long as we have we.”

 They get it. I know; they don’t talk about Jesus or Bethlehem. But those Whos know that Christmas isn’t about the stuff. The stuff is fun. The food and parties and presents are fun. But at its heart, Christmas is about being together; it’s a celebration of the good news that we are not alone.

 Something happens to the Grinch that day: something that causes his heart to swell and to grow, something that pushes him out of his self-imposed exile and helps him realize he doesn’t have to be alone. Those Whos, just by being who they are, just by loving one another, allow that love to overflow to the sour Santa with his stolen sleigh. And so often, our best witness to God’s love is like that: we love each other, no matter the circumstances; and when others see our love, when they see our joy, it draws them in.

 The Grinch repents; literally, he turns around. And when he rides back into town perched on a wagon full of evidence against him – he isn’t arrested. He isn’t criticized or condemned; he isn’t hated, rejected, or driven right back out of town again. The Whos could have looked that morning with smug satisfaction, because the Grinch had just proven that he really is the terrible monster they always thought him to be.

 But they don’t. Instead, the Whos make room in their circle. This sorry outcast is welcomed in, and even given a seat of honor at the head of the table, at the feast that celebrates the day that reminds us that no one has to be alone.

 This is grace: this is grace, the welcome we don’t deserve. This is grace: forgiveness and a new beginning, a chance to really repent, to turn the page and start again. This is grace: it’s a seat at the table; it’s a hand to hold; it’s a new family – it’s the gift of being a part of an “us,” a “we,” and recognizing that – for better or for worse, no matter what we’ve done or who we’ve been – we are not alone.

 You know, when I think back over my life, I honestly don’t remember very many of the Christmas gifts I’ve received over the years. But this is what I do remember: I remember coming home early from college, and surprising my mom with a great big hug after too many weeks away. I remember how it feels for the whole family to sit around one table together. I remember laughing during a ridiculous card came, and decorating messy gingerbread houses, and walking through the snow in search of the perfect tree. I remember holding my niece, her warm little snuggles on my first Christmas as Aunt Bri. I remember sitting with my dad in the stillness of early morning, in just the glow of the Christmas tree lights; I remember the little smile on my mom’s face as she hummed Christmas carols in the kitchen. I remember the glow of faces by candlelight, and voices singing “Silent Night” in harmony. I don’t remember the gifts, but I remember those experiences, those celebrations of community, those moments when I was surrounded by love.

 Long after the presents are forgotten, long after our trees have been taken down and the cookies are eaten and the leftovers cleaned out of the fridge – Christmas is still with us. Christmas Day will always be, just as long as we have we. Christmas is within our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp.

 Let’s carry Christmas with us into the new year. Let’s look for those who are angry, bitter, and excluded – and invite them into the circle. Let’s move our own hearts away from judgment and cynicism, and offer forgiveness and compassion for others and for ourselves. May we believe that people really can change – and may all of us, always, find a place at the table.

  God, you love us when we act like the Grinch. You love us when we’re bitter and judgmental; you love us when our grief turns to anger, and when we try to steal others’ joy away. You love us when we act like the Grinch, but you also hope we’ll turn around – that we’ll come back down from the lonely mountaintop and find our place in the circle of grace. Help us to believe that we are not alone. Help us to keep singing. Help us to make room at the table for all of your children. In the name of Jesus, who shows us your love and grace, we pray; amen.