#Father Son and Holy Spirit this is SCARY

[lobotomybbydoll]

I luv cats (especially mine) bunnies too!!!! Also writing, psychology, vintage things, porcelain dolls, sleeping, fashion, smoking, alcohol, blood, evil women, butterfly knives, bruises, cemeteries, daydreaming, 50s and 60s fashion, horror movies, being called "doll" "angel" or "bunny" (NOT A PET PLAY THING!!!!!! I just think bunnies are cute pls don't sexualize it) going on long walks and the moon ☾

@luvleyangeldust is Cassie to my Effy <3

My best friends are @luvleyangeldust and @rebluvsvodka I love them very much

My signs are Sun ♊, moon ♏ & rising ♌ my b'day is on June 13th and I'm INFP-T

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I also write songs/poems and sometimes post some snippets of them (if anyone wants to put me in a studio hmu 🙏🙏🙏)

Father, son and holy spirit

Tag system

I sometimes reblog gore and often interact with tcc, block me if that bothers you

[drchucktingle]

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4

here we are again talkin on camp damascus and unwrapping every little secret and hidden layer of this book. think of this time together like an old time ENGLISH CLASS where the dang teacher says 'well by THIS SYMBOLISM the author was actually commenting on how good chocolate milk is' only this time we get to talk on TINGLERS and your teacher is the buckaroo himself, chuck tingle.

as man name of chuck i have a lot of easter eggs in my books, and this post is just ONE OF MANY where we pull apart every layer. if you have a reading club for this book it might be a fun companion to trot through once you are all finished. if that is the case you should start with the first deconstructing damascus post. i will leave links to them all here IN ORDER

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #2

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3

HOWEVER these deconstructing damascus posts SHOULD NOT BE READ UNLESS YOU ARE DONE WITH THE BOOK. there are heckin spoilers EVERYWHERE in these posts so do not peek at them until you are ready.

alright below this line the dang spoilers begin. BIG TIME SPOILER WARNING. lets trot

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4: BIBLICAL CAPITALISM

we have taken lots of time to discuss the various layers of symbolism in this book, but for FINAL POST of deconstructing damascus i would like to talk about the literal layer, specifically ONE BIG THEME that weaves throughout the story of rose, saul, willow and kingdom of the pine.

that theme is CAPITALISM.

kingdom of the pine, the church in this story, is intentionally NOT THAT STRANGE in their beliefs. it would be very easy for me to write a book where the christian sect are revealed as some twisted monsters performing all kinds of dark rituals in the name of evil itself, but when the big reveal comes it is something much more HORRIFIC and unexpected.

kindgom of the pine members are not snarling, oozing, otherworldly, creatures. the members are just people, and their beliefs are horrifically STANDARD. kingdom of the pine worships CAPITALISM.

these church members believe in the traditional tenants of CHRISTIANITY along with the traditional tenants of BUSINESS. what makes them scary is that they whole heartedly believe that 'the ends justify the means'

lets start with prophet cobel, the founder of the church. his visions came during THE INDUSTREAL REVOLUTION, occuring when he was injured by a manufacturing machine and lost his hand. the coma from prophet cobels accident is where he received his message from god. he realized that, for a church to succeed, it needed to act like a BUSINESS.

many buckaroos have asked 'WHY is the church called kingdom of the pine?' and this is EXACTLY WHY. many churches are named for spiritual aspects. this sect could have easily been 'kingdom of the holy word' 'kingdom of the spirit' 'kingdom of HIS name' EXCEPT prophet cobel knew the importance of MATERIAL and CURRENCY and GOODS. he is not just worshipping JESUS, he is worshipping THE CROSS ITSELF. so 'the pine' in kingdom of the pine is symbolic of worshipping through a PRODUCT, in this case the little wooden cross that you might sell during a fundraiser. not kingdom of the son, the father, or the holy spirit, but kingdom of the PINE. THE WOOD ITSELF. THE PRODUCT.

by combining christianity and capitalism, prophet cobel created a monster, but not one that creeps through a dark swamp with sharp teeth and red eyes. he created something much more existentially dangerous AND not all that unheard of in reality. this isnt an imaginary monster that lurks under your bed. IT IS A MONSTER THAT IS ALREADY HERE.

capitalism is the answer for ANOTHER big question regarding camp damascus: why are the demons wearing red polos?

demons in this story are dressed like minimum wave workers at a big box story because THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE. yes they spend their time torturing unfortunate folks in their dungeon, but NOBODY IS FREE FROM THE CAPITALISTIC SYSTEM NOT EVEN ON OTHER TIMELINES LIKE HECK ITSELF. the demons are AT WORK. some buckaroos do not notice that kingdom of the pine counselors are always in green and white (the pine material GREEN and the holy spirit WHITE, like we talked on earlier). meanwhile demons are in RED because they are contracted out. THEY HAVE BEEN HIRED IN THEIR OWN WAY and when you consider the collars around their necks, THEY ARE NOT TREATED FAIRLY BY THEIR EMPLOYERS. THEY ARE CONTROLLED IN A SYSTEM OF THEIR OWN AND COMPELLED TO WORK.

this is why they have name tags. THEY ARE AT WORK.

this is why they are constantly smiling until the collars come off. THEY HAVE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILES.

okay buds. thank you for reading the deconstructing damascus series it was very fun for me to go deep on this book for anyone who enjoys this kind of analysis. i hope it puts a little more joy into your trot, and now if someone says 'this part of camp damascus didnt make sense to me' you can said 'LETS TALK BUD'. i am very much looking forward to doing this again when my next horror novel BURY YOUR GAYS comes out. keep a dang eye out for that one.

i will end with one more thing that did not really fit into the other catagories.

question of: is there any meaning behind willow being a big wu tang fan?

you mean besides her being the crocodile (which has ticking clock in mouth in peter pan) so rhythm itself is a very important part of her character? (as shown in her steady clicking camera shutter and the steady beat of her musical preferences?)

WHY YES CHUCK BESIDES THAT.

well now that we've discussed the theme of INFANTILIZATION in deconstructing damascus part one, and how all the young people in kingdom of the pine are kept childlike as long as possible as the FOREVER CHILDREN of never never land, i will point you towards this iconic quote from the wu tang clans ODB at the 1998 grammy awards:

LOVE IS REAL thank you for reading buckaroos - chuck

[somethingblu3]

Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

RUBY IS SMOKE SO BASED HOLY SHIT. thoughts on that?

I'm absolutely a Ruby is Smoke truther.

She is Firestar's half-sister, and Scourge boots her and Socks off of Bloodclan turf without a meal. He wants nothing to do with his siblings. He won't forgive them until later in his life.

Ruby and Socks wander the area, but sadly, Socks passes from starvation. Ruby's loud crying attracts the attention of a kind elderly woman who just lost a cat herself. She takes Socks' body and buries him in her backyard, while taking Ruby in to care for her. Not knowing Ruby's name, she names her Smoke.

Smoke takes to it well, the old woman is nice! She's got great food, and when Smoke is good, she gets chicken off the woman's plate!

But... It's scary. What if she's abandoned again?

When the old woman's mind begins to fail, feeding times get inconsistent, and Smoke panics. It's going to happen again. Maybe being a housecat isn't so great, maybe being wild would be nicer. Her new friend Onewhisker's always going on about how great and heroic Windclan are... How everyone is so wonderful and always takes care of each other... It must be perfect!

She has no idea Onewhisker is lying, making up hero stories not only to look better but to feel better. He hates being in Windclan, and longs for the safety and security that being a kittypet would bring.

They clung to each other, they were never in love, they loved what the other one would bring.

When Smoke gave birth, she only had a single kitten, Darkkit. She brought him to the Windclan border, and Onewhisker, thinner than usual, told her no. That she and Darkkit couldn't join Windclan, not now, not ever.

She didn't understand, and Onewhisker didn't admit why. Rabbits were sick, the moor was being destroyed, she would be safer away from the moor, and he wanted to go with her but... Tallstar was so sick, so weak, he couldn't handle Onewhisker leaving, he was still strong enough to keep helping, keep hunting... And the political atmosphere in Windclan at the time was very unaccepting of outsiders. Onewhisker's father Mudclaw was deputy.

He needed to be mean enough that Smoke wouldn't come back.

Smoke raised Darktail with love, and hate. She was always telling him he was better than other cats, that one day he would destroy the Clans and make them pay for their unfairness... But to also be a good boy, be kind to others, help others out. Everyone is as important as Kin.

He would twist these words.

Smoke dies around the time of late OOTS, her age catching up with her. Darktail's heart was broken, the only cat he ever loved was his Mama, and he would destroy his father in her name.

Her spirit resides in the same realm all Kittypets get to go to, she hangs out with Socks, Quince, and Scourge, as well as the kind elderly woman. She is sad her son turned out the way he did, and wishes to see him again one day.

[maddestmewmew]

HI IF ANY FNAF FANS ARE READING THIS THE TAGS ARE HERE FOR BLOCKLIST NOT FOR. TRYING TO REACH FNAF FANS…THERES NO HATE UNDER THE CUT ITS JUST ME BEING REALLY FUCKING CONFUSED ABT FNAF LORE

ok now thats out of the way. JESUS CHRIST have i just entered a fucking. rabbit hole?? OH MY GOD??? i was a massive fnaf fan in my preteen years, as was everyone ever in the 2010s..ive dialed back my enjoyment of it, ill watch playthroughs of the mainline games and ive seen the movie but thats kind of it. this being relevent bc i watched an into the pit playthrough, and then saw some tweets about it. MOST of them i understood, until i hit a tweet talking abt some kid named andrew?? and how hes not an sci??? and i was like Hold On. maybe its been some years but i cant be THAT behind can i. i know all the important names..michael afton and cassidy and charlie and what have you..

so i look up the wiki for this kid andrew, and it leads me to a story about a ghost kid attatching himself to william aftons spirit and torturing him and shit. i was a bit confused bc like. isnt that cassidys thing? but Whatevs. also the stories seemed weirdly bizzare to me, like not in a hateful way but like. why is william afton getting an exorcism. anyway it brings up a couple (A LOT) of names i dont understand, but what my brain latches onto is this kid jake, who is described as forcing andrew to Stop torturing english willy, at the cost of Now Hes Stuck Possessing An Endoskeleton. okayyy this is fnaf to me. i didnt know this but its abt what i expect from five nights at freddys.

so i head to jakes wiki out of curiosty, and find out he is from, no joke, one of the most fucking depressing stories ive ever read? i dont mean in terms of fnaf, i mean, FUCKING EVER. JESUS. CHRIST.

its like. in the middle of a fazbear frights book. fazbear frights being these scary stories to tell in the dark type books where its collections of spoooky stories that will shape the minds of children everywhere, but like. fnaf themed.

this story is called “the real jake” and i Highly reccomend you read the wiki instead of hearing it from me like. fourth hand. like im retelling a retelling here. but if you want that ultra telephone sypnosis, here you go:

“the real jake” follows a nine year old boy who is bedridden. with cancer. his mother is dead and his father is overseas. jake is taken care of full time by a nanny, margie.

jake likes to talk with a boy in his cupboard, named simon, who is really his father over the phone, through a walkie talkie. at first, jake and “simon” talk about what jake has done that day, but jake cannot leave his bed, so jake gets frustrated that all his stories are so mundane and depression. so one day simons like, okay, tell me what the REAL jake has done. and its a little game of pretend, where jake tells these silly little stories about what the “real jake” did that day. one day, jakes friend tries to get him to sneak out to go to the arcade, and tries to get him there by dragging him in a wagon, but jake is too weak to make it to make it to the wagon and collapses and throws up, and he explains to margie he wanted to be the real jake for a day.

at some point jake and margie are playing chess, and jake gets super frustrated that he cant see straight. margie calms him down and jake tells her that he loves her, causing margie to break down, and then she Later Finds Out The Doctors Are Ceasing Treatment For Him, which makes margie realize she loves jake as a son.

AND THEN MARGIE GETS THE CALL THAT JAKES FATHER WAS FUCKING KILLED. and she has full custody of jake. she cant bring herself to tell him his father died, so she says simon wont be able to visit for a while.

AND THEN JAKE FUCKING DIES.

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY . THEY JUST MOVE ON AFTER THAT. HOLY FUCK??? IMAGINE BEING LIKE 9 AND PICKING UP THE LATEST FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS BOOK AT THE SCHOOLASTIC BOOK FAIR AND THEN READING A STORY ABOUT A LITTLE BOY COPING WITH HIS CANCER AND THEN FUCKING DYING ALONE. FREDDY FAZBEAR WASNT EVEN THERE.

[jdah]

AU where suho got split into two when his powers got ‘sealed’

Just gonna list some of the ideas in bullet form OTL

when jinwoo sealed his son’s power and memories, he was unaware that he had instead split his son into two

part of suho’s power had separated from him and gained its own ego & consciousness

locked away from using his power, he is trapped in suho’s shadows, unable to do anything but just watch his and his human self’s surroundings

(i’m just gonna say that jinwoo can’t exactly detect shadow suho’s presence because he’s trapped in suho’s shadow, unable to release his mana + dad is scary nuh uh im staying here)

since suho’s powers weren’t fully closed off, he can still perceive the presence of other beings - mainly spirits

suho sometimes see figures in random places

their looks vary, there are ones that seem like humans, and ones that makes suho stop dead in his tracks and cry for his mother’s soothing presence

some of the figures are friendly, greeting him as he passes by and helping him when he is lost

but there are some that are hostile - once suho acknowledges them, they start rushing to him with their horrifying looks

this led to suho ignoring everything that seems abnormal - things that are not seen by others around him

and for some reason, the things never show up in his house, nor do they appear whenever his dad is near

(shadow suho oh so wants to protect his human self, seeing his struggles and feeling his emotions whenever they encounter an entity - he vows to protect suho the moment the seal to his powers is lifted)

——————

the things stopped showing when he reached middle school

(jinwoo started to test his son, so suho is constantly enveloped with his mana)

——————

when his parents disappeared, the things appeared again

without their father’s presence to protect suho, it’s up to his shadow to shoulder that duty

even though he was sealed away, he is still the son of the shadow monarch - especially now that they’re older and his human self has started training, the shadow also started to gain more control in his powers

(+ now that their father is far away, the seal in him also loosened)

one time suho wakes up with his body unable to move

thinking it was just one of those sleep paralysis, he ignores the thing standing beside his bed

and yet no matter what he does, he can’t wake up from this nightmare

suho realized too late that he’s not dreaming - that he’s actually awake and holy fuck there’s a terrifying figure crawling on top of him

wtf wtf whatthefuck i havent seen any of them since middle school why now why now??? - suho

before the thing could touch him, an extremely dark figure rose up from the sides of his bed, its presence startling the thing into escaping

suho:

suho inside: (…im gonna die... there is a monster under my bed)

(on the other hand, even though he can only release some of his mana, shadow suho is glad he can finally push the entities away)

——————

The seal further eases up when the gates started showing up

Especially when beru appeared before them - the presence of one of his father’s strongest soldier was the last push into breaking the seal

beru was so surprised to see a shadow soldier standing near suho when his sealed memories was being shown - only to realize that it wasn’t a soldier, but the young lord himself !! young lord why are you a shadow ?!?!?! how come i never knew of this TT

(beru wishes to teach the shadow young lord a lot of thing)

suho is so confused and disoriented because the seal being lifted means he became fully connected with shadow suho (albeit having its own ego)

(aka their feelings and thoughts are being transmitted to one another - since they are the same person with two bodies)

——————

beru and shadow suho: partying in the shadows while human suho is working his ass off

shadow suho giving himself eyes similar to beru’s

beru: (sobbing)

suho: im out i need to sleep (leaves Rest after ammut’s training)

ammut: (looks at shadow suho)

shadow suho: don’t

suho: (watching a sad drama)

suho: hmm…

shadow suho who is accompanying haein in another realm: (starts sobbing)

[g1ga-byte]

If you finish the indigo disk dlc. Any ideas for adding the dlc in some of the AUs.

Ingo and jade au.

Lacey's father is heavily implied to clay so how would she play into this au, as the forth and youngest child of clay.

(Indigo disk spoilers) crispin have crush on Lacey. In the au what would be clay reaction to Lacey bringing her friend Crispin home a boy.

Lycan’s Plight au.

What would ms. Briar and heath study that is important to the Lycan’s Plight au.

Cyrano and the blueberry academy how would it play cyrano a friend of a clavell.

And the blueberry Elite 4

If you finish the indigo disk and know about how briar acted when she saw terapagos in its true form.

Disk guardian au.

Any idea for Geeta after finishing the dlc like the tera crystal tree, crystal pool, the blueberry academy tera core and crystal cubes.

Yes! I have finished the DLC and I can finally let the brainrot start! So, here are some ideas I have thus far!

Jade and Ingo:

Lacey is a nice welcome to this crazy family! And the fact she has an Excidrill too further cements my headcanon that Clay gifts his children with Drilburs as a starter! The DLC proved Clay is a scary man when it comes to his daughters, so the threats at Ingo is justified, so with poor lil’ Crispin, he would keep a sharp eye on him, albeit not as aggressive- he’s only a boy. Also, I headcanon that Jade made Lacey her hair pins, since she owns a small jewelry shop.

Lycan’s Plight AU:

With the DLC characters, I want tp make their own story within this unverse, but with little interaction (still under construction). I mentioned that this AU was inspired heavy from Planet of thr Apes reboot movies, so maybe Blueberry Academy may be a tech school with a biology study of the werewolves and maybe looking to “strip the savage nature” of the beast want to make them more human(?). If I want to pull more from my inspiration (at this point copying lol), what if they were developed a “curse” to make the werewolves “human”, but in actuality it a virus that could either kill or mutate humans to wolves (inspired by Turo’s findings and his “expirement” of his son Arven, and a little idea from @vixletserenity AU of Celeste).

Cyrano and Clavell have different ideas on this plan and that’s what made him want to leave and help preserve the way the werewolves are, but is unaware of the virus that could endanger human lives. Maybe the BB kids were affected by the virus? Each child would have a different trait of the werewolves, and maybe one of them may lose their ability to speak? As for Briar, she would be on of Cyrano’s assistance, but may have of wanting powers like those of the werewolves(?)… still under development!

Disk Guardian AU:

Ok, I call Geeta on bullshit, she KNEW what that disk was for! I do not believe her when she said she had no idea that CD would open the underdepts. She admits to you that she has gone down to Zero Lab a few times, and the computer speaks when it detect the Indigo Disk is closeby.

Within Terapagos’ pokedex, it reads that this may be the last, surviving Terapagos in Area Zero and that many died from the caveins and other disasters, so for the AU, what if the energy that gave Geeta her powers (and scars) was from the spirit of an Terapagos elder. To give Geeta some backstory, what if she came from a long line of native people who knew of the wonders inside the crater and worshipped the turtles as gods. When Heath and his team wanted to explore the depts, the tribe were against mere people disturbing the holy land, but the Academy and League forced them away to continue the expedition.

The elder turtle tasked Geeta to protect the last child turtle by any means nessesery; her being the last line of defense to protect the baby, and her seeking out “champions” to revive the clan of protectors of Paldea. In a twist, the elder spirit sees the purity of the MC’s heart and that’s why the baby Terapagos chose to go with them, much to Geeta’s disagreement, so she would challange you to prove your worth as a worthy guardian!

These are what I have so far to expand my AUs! I need to revisit these again once my IRL stuff is taken care of and make more art!

[0-theda]

3.11.25

chocolate ice cream, irish whiskey, “ghost on” - angel olsen

All I can think, and all I can say at this point is my 3 C’s - curiosity, communication & containment. Those are the three things I from here on out, expect from myself, and would hope to receive from others. These are my “mind, body spirit” these are my “father, son, holy spirit”. I sit at the center of the court of thousands begging for these human aspects inside other humans. Curiosity, the vehicle in which wets us and dries us toward expansion. Consciousness. Feeling the vibration of self-consciousness is like heroin to me. Because we are all here on this planet temporarily. Why not be curious? Why not explore your desires and comforts or surrealism? Why not communicate? Communication is a gift given to humans. My dog can’t communicate like me - I wish he could. I can only receive his communication in looks at me, in body language. This is all he has to work with. I, on the other hand, have hands, a voice. I can speak and type and sing. I can paint, and use fashion to express myself. How grateful am I, for communication. Containment, is the real bitch. Containment I face and beg for every day of my life. We all just want to feel held. We all want trust. But most of all, as a woman, we want to feel contained. 

On another note, the actions I see fit for me to take lately have to be done in a clear, slower, progression. 1, and then 2, and THEN 3. Making life measurable from hour to hour. It’s what processing, what story-telling is to me and proves to myself how much I value it. And it explores what accountability is to me. If everything is “go, go, go”, where do you have the time to tell your story? To talk about it? Make it dreamy, or make it into art? Make an honest confession to someone and be authentic? 

When do you have the time to take real accountability? I’ve witnessed more times than not, the moment I sit down with someone to really talk about their lives, their families, their insecurities, their wounds caused by other people, they all of a sudden are in a state of avoidance, because sitting down with me means they finally have to process all of it, bit by bit. And I have the same reaction when I sit down with myself. I feel the power and the authority of MY own spirit, which is never separate from Source-self. It makes you, as a mere human almost fear it. It can be scary temporarily, but fear is the opposite of choosing love. Anything other than that is bullshit. I choose to process it, embrace my shadows, and give myself the power instead of giving it UP to some “higher” power. Or giving it up to a partner. Or giving it up to anybody else other than me. My highest hope is that others share this vibration so that our tuning forks altogether can ring out with responsibility, focus, boundaries, only unique to only ourselves. That way, we can figure out a way to collaborate easily with uncertainty. 

But I understand that we’re all in pain. We suffer, day to day. We can’t comprehend the pain the exists between us. And in, that, I only ask that we live minute by minute. What can we do to  integrate our pain with joy? What can we do to be in harmony with all parts of our fragmented selves? Parts work is so incredibly valuable and needed in this day an age. If parts work isn’t present in your life, I encourage you 100% to explore it. Therefore, real curiosity can begin. Real communication can begin. Real containment from the masculine to the feminine can begin. Of course, the non-binary is considered, all grey areas of identity should be loved and held. It’s a balancing act. Real balance results in the real work that we can do on this planet. Real inner child knowing results in real adult joy and light at the end of society’s tunnel. Real contrast results in real discovery. Real healing results in taking your boundaries and your life seriously. And being serious about it doesn’t push away joy, it never should. Being serious means taking the definition of your ego as well as the definition of Source consciousness into consideration at all times, and therefore, having a joyful, manageable, structure that conceives and creates your happiness. No matter where you are, what alcohol you drink, no matter what you smoke - you still have that foundation, that backbone of being in awe of consciousness. And if you do not, I’m very sorry for you and I hope you begin with me, in the same beginnings we face every morning we awake. In a sense, we can find our definitions, our humor, our laziness, our productivity in a way that is curated in a way that fills our cup. And to taste the sweetness, the smokiness , the earthiness, and the vegetal notes of the soul together like a diamond and bask in the light of separateness and unity all at once, is the spectrum of freedom I see fit to result in a workable way to love and live. 

[prju77]

The Light Is Green!

The Lord says to you today,

“My beloved, It’s time for you to Go! Don’t look back or stay sitting at the red light. Move forward with the green light I have given you.

There’s a new wind that I am bringing to move you forward in the right direction, that will feel like a breeze, gliding you into the narrow way, the straight and perfect path that I have you on.

I know it has felt like you have been on the amber light for so long. Pausing, waiting, growing, listening to voice and trying to make sense of what I have been doing. Now you will begin to see and understand as you move forward into the plans I have for you. I want you to SEE the acceleration of the new season, FEEL the acceleration and GO with it! Don’t try to halt it. Go forward into it even if it feels scary or you feel unsure.

GO with the plans I have given you and don’t look back!

I have given you all you need to go in this new direction. I want you to trust and believe that you are equipped and that you don’t need to have all the answers. I want you to feel free to go into the new plans and purposes that I have placed within you. Trust me, move with me and GO!”

Activation: If you are unsure about the plans you are to step forward in, spend some time with the Lord and ask Him what is the first step you need to make to ‘go’. Write down the steps and pray:

Lord, thank you that you have equipped me to go forward into the plans and purposes you have given me. I ask you to take the uncertainty, fear and hesitation and fill me with faith. I ask you to help me to move forward in boldness, courage and with great joy and to see, hear, sense and feel the movement of this season so that I do not stay stagnant. Help me to go on the new journey you have me on, in partnership with you, for the building of your kingdom. In Jesus name, Amen.

Matthew 28:19-20 (NIV) "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age!"

2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJ) "For we walk by faith, not by sight!"

Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV) "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight!"

[jdjampersandovertime]

spam t, the father, the son, and the holy spirit

spam t. Scary t. And TODD, all remind me of the father, the son, and thhe holy spirit. In which these three thingns can and do coexist. They all are, in a sense, god of the pipeline. Each one died, each one comes back, each one will become the destitute god of nietherdeath in every reality, but they arent connected, spam t. Is not scary. T, or todd, but they all are still god if the pipeline

spam t. Is the father

todd is the son

and scary t. Is the holy spirit

[tobie-van-heerden]

God is real.

God the almighty, our loving Father, is a real person. He is Deity and is a spirit. God the Father is really sitting on his throne in Heaven, in the spirit world. The Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is real. He is also Deity, because his Father is Deity, and He is also a spirit. He is really sitting on the right hand of the Father. Jesus loved us so much that He gave his life in a terrible suffering on the cross so that we may have forgiveness of our sins through his blood. The Holy Spirit is also real. The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, goes out from God. The Holy Spirit really lives in the true Christians.

God really loves us, his creations, and He sent out the Good News of repentance from sin and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ into the world. How you react to this Good News (Gospel) really makes the difference between Heaven and Hell. Heaven is a real place, and Hell is a real place in the spirit world. When you die, your spirit body with your soul in it really lives on. It is only your physical body that dies. You really live on, either in Heaven or in Hell. Hell is a very very scary place of torment and suffering and punishment, where Satan and his demons are, as well as all the people that went to Hell when they died. You never get out of Hell and you can never see and experience the love of God in Heaven. You are for ever separated from the love of God.

I write this because I am in agreement with the love of God for all people. He does not want anybody to go to Hell, and that is why his Son died a terrible death on the cross, so that people may be forgiven of their sins and go to Heaven. Please repent of your sins and turn to God to serve Him, and turn away from your sins and ask God to forgive you in the Name of Jesus. Ask Him that the blood of Jesus cleanses you from the guilt of your sinful life. Sin means falling short of loving God and obeying Him with all your heart and mind, and loving people as yourself. That means that we all need the blood of Jesus to be able to approach the living God. Turn away from your sins when you are forgiven, and live a life serving God in righteousness and holiness before Him, and then you will receive the Holy Spirit to enable you and guide you in the Christian life.

God really won't force anyone to obey the Good News. God gave people complete free will, so your future is in your own hands. You have to make the decision yourself.

I am not writing this to scare you into becoming a Christian, but Hell is much more scary than this, and the love of God our Father in Heaven is so wonderful, that I cannot help writing this message. Please make sure that you will go to Heaven when you die. It could be tomorrow in a car accident or some other way. Make your decision now. Now is the time for forgiveness and turning to God.

The point is that all of this is real.

[meteorsage]

When I was younger, I watched superhero cartoons religiously. And coincidentally, Hannah-Barbera had released a line of popular Bible-stories on VHS

Theology in 1997

Central

An unknowable transcendent deity who we only even talk about from the implied existence of creation. Can turn off the game whenever she wants

The Creator

The Father, also called "the creator" for his role in the Creation Story

The Holy Spirit, also called "the Companion", is who was over the waters before there was form, and is who The Father was talking to during the Creation Story

The Son, is not mentioned in the Creation story but since someone divine had no problems walking on Regular Earth I think this was who spoke to Adam

Antagonism

The concept of evil and decay: a by-product of existence that could only be reduced through personal responsibility, which requires sapience; like asking a Person to stop casting a shadow VS asking a Boulder

It is not outside the Central figure

The Devil, which speaks and acts in opposition to the narrative of The Creator but he also works for them

Major Prophets

Moses, the law-giver

Elijah, the clap-backer

Jonah, because of the subnautical adventure

Daniel, not because of the lions but beceuse he told Nebuchadnezzar to stop appropriating Jewish Culture (there was a PowerPoint Presentation)

Minor Prophets

The rest of them. There's a lot of dudes in there & most of them don't even have specials or finishers

Historical Period

The home team lost too many matches & now all the coaches are Akkadian

Babylonian

Persian

The Persian managers are trying to set up a trade with the Hellenic league and

Sorry, that league has been taken over by the Romans. They are insistent on their standard and are not interested in "trading"

New Testament

The guy from the Creation Story, the "people person"? He's back

No, but like, Again

Historical Period

The cult I was in taught us that Europe had no wars because all of its kings were Christian and European

This does not align with History, Kings, Christianity, or Europeans

Awebo miss, ¿y todo esto que? 🌎🌍🌏

Age of Atom

Atom, esoteric yet accessible. Existential threat

Creation, has become creator. Is too immature to take care of itself

Ours is a new world made out of the old. And every new world comes with monsters

The presence of monsters creates the requirement for the presence of heroes

Antagonist is the monsters, who I was told were victims too

So maybe it makes sense that the same God who would give the Prophet Elijah powers of Flexibility, Invisibility, Earthquakes, and Flying Fire

Could have, in our scary times, split those powers up between four people who ventured close to heaven, so that while they might not be prophets they can still protect their city

They might not be holy, but they're still Fantastic

I might be why the church I grew up in suppressed superhero media

"Re-enlightenment"

Per the cult: "Global Warfare and Telecomms Tech prove we are the 'Last Generation' and have been for 40 years!"

This is why Sheila, who tried to sell my mom Avon in the parking lot, needs to Review your Birthday and Study your Chakras

Sunday School teacher that's said "resist your nature" to kids when who were acting up, but never to the kids with light hair

"Oh and don't consume pop culture or hang out with people who do! 🤭"

This is also where my love for whimsigoth aesthetic started. Maybe because it was the 90s, maybe because one of the kids was nice to me.

She wore Candid cologne, listened to Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Enya; She taught me the revolutionary history of France through her comic book collection, and how to waltz to "There is a light that never goes out"

[teddyniffler]

Merlin in Defeat

Chapter 4

A loud clang sounded behind Alfred’s throne. Everybody turned to the source of the sound but it was just the Pagan, the godless heathen had appeared to have dropped his walking aid. He was swaying slightly, trying to keep his footing. A guard moved forwards and took his arm to hold him steady as he reached down and picked up the aid, placing it back under the young man’s arm. The guard moved back as the son of Ragnar stood again on his own, the people in the crowd turned their attention back to the king. Alfred carried on without showing any reaction to the noise. He knew what it was, but he also knew Hvitserk hadn’t fallen over, so he carried on as if the interruption had never happened, as instructed to by his grandfather, as king he always needed to keep his composure. The crowd started talking to each other again, a few of them called out. Alfred answered them, but for Hvitserk his head was spinning around everything he had just heard.

Ubbe. A Christian.

The same magic that had turned Uncle Rollo from his own gods had been inflicted upon Ubbe too. Hvitserk remembered the stories Floki told him and his brothers when they were younger. How they used to huddle together as Floki told them scary stories of an invisible god coming down from the sky to remove good men’s chances of getting to Valhalla and corrupting them, turning them into mindless people. Rollo had agreed to go along with the Christian’s initiation ritual, he had meant it as a joke, but as Floki warned, there was no joke with the Christ god. He got you every time, no matter how strong a man you thought you were, the Christ god would get you.

The Christ god had come for Rollo that day and claimed him for his own. The gods then removed their favour away from Rollo and cursed him, he left their religion shortly after to marry the princess of Francia, who further poisoned his mind to the Christ god. In the end, Rollo wasn’t the same Rollo that Floki knew anymore, he was a Christian.

Hvitserk remembered being a small boy, he had left his bed one night and walked into the halls, his father and Athelstan were talking about the Christian religion. Athelstan told his father how the holy spirit was called down and how it entered people’s bodies, filling them with 'Grace', whatever that was, his father was hanging onto Athelstan's every word, but for Hvitserk it had scared him, he had crept back to his bed too scared to sleep in case the Christ god got him, Aslaug had found him still awake hours later and she had raged at Ragnar that night, he didn’t remember what was said but she had vowed to keep her children away from Athelstan’s influence from that moment.

Ubbe must have also angered their gods. He and Ivar had been updated on Ubbe’s quest when they had returned home. Ubbe had set out on untruths, his boat most likely sunk and lost at sea. Hvitserk remembered how distant Ubbe was with him, even though he came back to their side, he wouldn’t even look at his little brother. Ubbe loved him, yet he didn’t even welcome Hvitserk back, he never showed concern at his poor health. He didn’t care when Bjorn lit the pyre to burn him alive. Was this why? His real brother had been long gone, taken over by the Christ god as Floki had always warned, a Christian imposter had returned wearing Ubbe’s face.

Hvitserk’s eyes burned, so he blinked, the lights from the fires now dancing over the walls, it was very warm in here with so many people all gathered together. He was very aware of Queen Elsewith still watching him every so often.

Hvitserk kept thinking. Was the new fake Ubbe send to spy on them for the Christians? Amma once mentioned to him she was sure the Christians had sent a spy in the form of Magnus, who was said to be their half brother, but he had been killed, possibly by the gods, but what if he were not the spy after all, what if it had been Ubbe all along? Did Bjorn also join the Christian faith?

His mind raced over his thoughts. Ivar had told him their brother had poisoned Hvitserk’s mind against him, at the time Hvitserk didn’t know what to think, but now looking back, his older brothers encouraged him to get revenge on Ivar. Was Bjorn and Ubbe hoping the two younger brothers killed each other? A way to kill the two brothers who had remained Pagan. It all made terrible sense to him, the Christians had infiltrated Kattegat without anybody suspecting a thing, and it was all Alfred’s doing.

“- Taxes for the boats, however with Mercia also, the tax will not be very high, I shall also use funds from Wessex, as this is an expense we should all contribute too, all who can. The safety of our people is a priority, I will retire and get back to you all with the exact amount. That brings the Witan to a close”

Alfred stood and people started to walk out, now talking about ways to raise funds for defenses against Vikings, however a few were talking about Hvitserk still.

Alfred breathed in relief as he turned around, Witans were always difficult but today’s was even harder. It was never a popular topic of raising taxes to pay for things, but even worse trying to convince a room full of Lords and members of the church to trust a Pagan they had just been fighting against.

Alfred glanced at Hvitserk, there was something not quite right with his face. He looked preoccupied and troubled, clearly not meeting Alfred’s eyes but he also looked angry, cold rage in those green eyes. Alfred gave himself a moment to think of what he needed to say next to Hvitserk, knowing it could overwhelm him.

“Let us go someplace a little quieter” Alfred told him. Hvitserk looked up at last, in the light by the fire he looked pale and Alfred found himself feeling concerned for him, he had never been out of his bed for this long since he was injured, was he feeling faint from being on his feet for this amount of time? Alfred would have one of his servants bring some wine to his private room.

Alfred smiled at Elsewith

“Are you coming too my love?” He asked her.

“I will join you for a little while” She replied. She had only been around Hvitserk a few times and was curious about him. She was still wary about him, still not ready just yet to trust him. She needed to be the level headed one, Alfred was too merciful for his own good and the Pagans before had taken this to their advantage, she would not allow it to happen here. She knew what Alfred was going to tell Hvitserk, but she wanted to see his reaction.

She noticed yet again how smaller he was compared to his brothers, who were all much broader than he. Standing there in proper clothing that fitted his form, she could see he was tall but thin to the point she wondered how he could even raise a sword with such lean arms, his physique was nothing like that of a Northman.

She had rarely spoke to him, and when she was around to see him, he was so silent all the time, just nodding in agreement to Alfred or speaking only when he had too, but those green eyes of his watched everything. She knew he was watchful, she guessed he were just as smart as his brothers so his silence was worrying. However, he also looked lost, as if he had only just realized the severity of his situation. None of his people were here, he would never see any of them again and he would never leave these shores.

To a Viking, raiding must be exciting to the point it was addictive in a sickening way, but now he had lost everything he held dear, including any loved one waiting for him. That was his true punishment, to know his cruel ways had led himself here. Alfred might not be punishing him, believing the Pagan needed to be guided, but she felt his fate here was punishment enough.

Alfred walked into a room not too far from the throne room, two guards stood outside, they didn’t move as Hvitserk walked passed them, he was starting to get used to the sight of Wessex guards scattered around, although seeing them still made his fight/flight response kick in. The room looked cosy enough, it had a table along one side and a fire roaring at the other, however it was small enough that the heat from the flames reached the table.

“Please take a seat” Alfred said, taking the top seat himself while waving his hand at the chair to the side of him. Elsewith sat opposite Hvitserk as he slowly lowered himself into the chair, feeling a slight burn in his upper leg as he sat on one of his cuts. He had never been so close to the both of them since the day he was captured and they had came to see him in the king’s tent, he wasn’t sure what to do, he wanted to avoid both of their eyes, so he looked at the table.

“I believe now is a good time to tell you of my long time intentions for you” Alfred said in a soft voice, he had noticed Hvitserk wasn’t looking at either of them, his shoulders slightly raised. Alfred had talked to him enough times now to tell when the Pagan was feeling uneasy, and Alfred wanted to reassure him.

“When your brothers came here, it was for refuge on the land my grandfather promised you and I give them that land, even though my grandfather had no authority to grant it. Around three thousand Danes settled on the land thanks to Ubbe’s intervention. He and I spoke about how East Anglia would be ruled, Bjorn wished to return home rather than stay in East Anglia, and shortly Ubbe decided it wasn’t within him to stay either, he could not accept my offer to stay. Since then East Anglia has remained under the rulership of Wessex and Mercia, this is where you come in.

East Anglia is both occupied by Saxons and Danish settlements and many have since mixed together, the people there live side by side mostly in harmony, but when your people came, some joined in the battle lead by you and Ivar. Many of them were killed, I have since issued an order among the Danes that they must convert to Christianity if they wish to remain here. I need somebody there in East Anglia to rule the people and to protect England from more Viking invasions should they come. Your father’s reputation holds strong among all nations of Scandinavia and you can speak great English, just like your brothers. You will be the voice for both our people, I wish for you to rule in East Anglia, you will be their king and you will aid Wessex and Mercia whenever the need arrives. You will help to protect the land and its people from the very threat you brought here. Do you understand”

Hvitserk sat stunned.

A king? Him?

He never imagined himself as a king, he always thought it would be Bjorn or Ubbe who would be king one day, never him. He didn’t know the first thing about ruling, he never wanted to be a leader, he always looked to somebody else to lead, even Ivar who was younger than him.

Alfred glanced at Hvitserk, the other man’s expression was very telling even if he were staring at the table. Alfred had no doubt as to what he was thinking.

“I will teach you how to be a good king, you do not need to fear. That is why I wanted you at the Witan today, and all to follow. I will learn you everything I know myself and I learned from my grandfather.”

Alfred paused. He had noticed Hvitserk’s hands were fidgeting with each other, there was no doubt he looked uneasy.

“I also hope that we can grow to become friends and allies” Alfred said, he meant it too, he didn’t wish to hold this son of Ragnar as a prisoner, so far Hvitserk had done little to make Alfred think he woudn’t cooperate. He was a little quiet, slow to answer questions, but he eventually did, Alfred also found him likeable and knew if only the other man would open up, they could be no reason why they couldn’t be friends.

Alfred waited, but Hvitserk still didn't speak. Alfred wondered if he should now tell Hvitserk the other thing he needed to tell him, it would fit to tell him now but the other man was already looking horrified at being told he would be a king one day.

Alfred hesitated, Elsewith was catching his eye, expecting him to talk more, but he couldn't just yet as Hvitserk's eyes then met Alfred's own.

Hvitserk had not been expecting Alfred to say that, the king wanted to be his friend? He knew they wasn’t that many years in age between them both, but he had always thought since coming here that Alfred was intimidating with the way he spoke and looked at him, but now Hvitserk wondered if it were just an act. He remembered seeing Alfred next to his father and older brother at York, Hvitserk knew Alfred had a mother too, but all his family had since died, Hvitserk wondered what had happened to them as nobody mentioned them.

Did Alfred also share Hvitserk's sadness and carry the same horror at losing his family too?

He also remembered Alfred’s grandfather, how they had agreed to allow the old man to die peacefully on his own terms, but stuck his body in a tub of water to rot for the Saxons to find. Hvitserk added that to his growing list of things to feel guilty about, at the time it seemed like an excellent idea, a way to break the Saxon’s spirits even without being there in person to do it, he and Ivar found the idea hilarious, Ubbe disagreed in disgust at the both, Sigurd had only smirked, but they still did it to cries of glee.

Now Hvitserk was sitting close enough to reach out and touch that man’s grandson. Alfred was sure to have been among his people when they found his grandfather’s body. Hvitserk’s brothers never found their father’s body from within the snake pit, but if they had, if Ragnar Lothbrok had been found tormented and broken, snake bites all over his body, Hvitserk knew he would have nightmares for life. He would never clear that picture from his mind, so why did they leave the old man in such a state for Alfred to find?

It then struck Hvitserk, he and Alfred had something in common, they had lost everybody from their own family in traumatic ways, but unlike Alfred, Hvitserk was totally alone now, he had nobody.

“Do you agree to this proposal?” Alfred asked him, not sure if Hvitserk had heard him first. Elsewith was watching closely, waiting to see how Hvitserk would answer.

Hvitserk hesitated. So many things were running through his head right now. Ubbe. Bjorn. Ivar. What Alfred was telling him right now. He didn’t know which to process first.

Elsewith glanced at her husband with concern, why wasn’t Hvitserk answering? Was he not in agreeance? It seemed like the son of Ragnar was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes were staring back at the table, his mouth moving slightly.

“Hvitserk?” She asked.

“Yes” Hvitserk said, totally unconvincing. “Of course.”

Elsewith continued looking at him, this son of Ragnar was very odd. She then felt something, maybe a little sympathy for him, perhaps this was just the way he was. She had always imagined the brother who stayed willingly by Ivar the Boneless’ side to be just as cruel as he, but Hvitserk didn’t appear cruel to look at. Right now he didn't look like any danger at all, but she knew otherwise. She knew beautiful angels were often fallen devils.

Hvitserk was saved from any more questions by a knock on the door and a servant came in, carrying a tray. He placed it on the table by Alfred’s side. Hvitserk looked up just in time to meet Elsewith’s eyes, he looked away as Alfred placed a cup in front of him and Elsewith.

“Would you like some wine?” Alfred asked him

“I don’t drink alcohol” Hvitserk mumbled, not wishing to bring up why.

“We have milk if you’d like some of that?” Alfred offered. Hvitserk nodded. A jug of milk was placed in front of Hvitserk, he wasn’t sure if he should help himself or not, he was at a lost for how things worked here. Alfred noticed Hvitserk was sitting looking at the milk as if waiting to be told what to do, Alfred poured himself some wine into his own cup.

“Help yourself” He said, taking back at how unlike Hvitserk was to his brothers, remembering how Bjorn made himself totally at home, spreading himself out to lounge on the stairs in a most offensive way leading up to the throne and often was found helping himself to Alfred’s wine at all hours of the day and night, or how Ubbe would often challenge him as a king, getting too close to his face and throwing axes at him. Hvitserk in comparison was a world away from his brothers, he sat as if tied to the seat and tried to not draw attention to himself. His arms slowly reached out for the milk jug, as if any sudden movement would trigger some kind of attack on him.

“Do you have any questions?” Alfred asked. He was sure Hvitserk had a million things running through his head, he remembered the day he found out he would be chosen as king over Athelred, but at least he had his whole life to come to terms with his destiny, for Hvitserk to be told out of the blue that he would be ruling a small kingdom one day would take some time to absorb that.

“Yeah…” Hvitserk said, he had finished drinking some milk and sat the cup down, looking at the white fluid inside. He seemed to take a moment to gather his worlds.

��Did Ubbe really become a Christian?”

That was not the question Alfred or Elsewith had been expecting.

Elsewith glanced at Alfred suddenly, now would be the best time to tell Hvitserk the important thing they had both decided upon. She knew they had to approach this particular subject very carefully, as to not make Hvitserk angry. Alfred thought for a second on how to best answer this in a sensitive way, but also in a way that would open the conversation up to other important matters. He noticed Elsewith was looking at him, he knew she was also thinking of the other talk they needed to have with Hvitserk, on the matter of his own religion…

“He did yes, he was baptized along with Torvi while staying here, their situation was delicate and mine even more precarious. My standing as king was not safe, I was facing serious assassination attempts and a coup, then your brothers came to me seeking refuge. Naturally that infuriated my oppressors even more, your brothers wanted their land yet I could not give them it right away, so I asked Ubbe to consider becoming a Christian to help the both of us and he agreed, along with Torvi”

Hvitserk sat taking in what he just heard, so both Ubbe and Torvi won’t be going to Valhalla, if Ubbe was indeed dead, Hvitserk would never see him again. However Hvitserk thought about the current state of his world, his gods were fading out even among his own people, so maybe Ubbe made the right call.

“And Bjorn?” Hvitserk asked.

Alfred shook his head.

“Oh no, I knew he would never agree to it, so did not ask him. He made his feelings very clear at the ceremony” Alfred confirmed with a slight smile, he leaned in slightly closer to Hvitserk and Hvitserk looked at him. Those blue eyes reminded Hvitserk of Alfred's real father, Athelstan, from the memory Hvitserk still held of him. He was still surprised he had never noticed the similarities to Athelstan that Alfred carried, the eyes, the hair, even the eyebrows were so similar to his father's, Hvitserk wondered how he had never noticed sooner. Alfred lowered his voice to make sure the servants were out of earshot.

“It may reassure you to know, Ubbe’s conversion was not entirely honest” Alfred said. Elsewith was now looking slightly irritated and Hvitserk wondered if they had ever talked about this in the past, as they appeared both on the same page, but Alfred appeared more accepting of this truth.

“For a little while he did change his faith and he did follow my God, but it was after a battle your brother switched back to being Pagan”

Hvitserk thought about that for a moment. He wasn’t so sure.

“I think the bewitchment from your god was still upon him, he wasn’t himself when he came back home”

Both Alfred and Elsewith had equally confused looks on their faces. Hvitserk would have laughed if his situation wasn’t so dire.

“Bewitchment?” Alfred asked, as Elsewith smiled politely but inside her mind she was worrying, a lot of Alfred’s plans could fail if the next part went badly. “Why do you believe your brother was bewitched?”

Hvitserk hesitated, he didn’t expect Alfred to have asked this. He swallowed and looked from Elsewith to Alfred and down to the table, then back up again.

“When I was growing up, me and my brothers were told stories about how your god can control people’s minds and their bodies. Ubbe was always the brother I loved most, we had a bond that we didn’t have with the others. When I joined Ivar, Ubbe didn’t kill me even though we came face to face, we loved each other too much to hurt the other. When Bjorn came back to Kattegat, I was no longer with Ivar”

Hvitserk took a drink of milk. Alfred and Elsewith were both listening closely, this was the most they had ever heard him speak. Alfred in particular was listening close.

“Ubbe came back after the battle and he didn’t talk to me, he couldn’t even look at me, he just wasn’t the same and then I got sick and it was like he didn’t care. Before, if I were sick he would never leave my side, he would bring food and get me to eat even if I didn’t want too, but this time it was like a stranger had replaced him. I got worse and something bad happened. Bjorn did something to hurt me and Ubbe let it happen. I think your god had him bewitched, that wasn’t my brother who returned.”

As Alfred watched, he noticed Hvitserk had started playing around with the empty cup, Hvitserk looked agitated. Alfred reached a hand out and moving slowly, he gently placed it on Hvitserk’s own hand. The cup stopped moving almost at once as Hvitserk froze, his eyes lingering on Alfred's hand touching his.

“My God doesn’t control people like that Hvitserk” Alfred said gently “I’m sorry but it appears you’ve been told lies from your people. My God is the God of love and peace, he doesn’t bewitch people, so if Ubbe appeared strange to you, it was something else. He did have a hard time while he was here, he was almost killed in battle against a Danish king, perhaps that is the reason he was distant with you. I am sorry to hear your brothers hurt you, do you mind me asking what they did?”

Hvitserk shook his head. He didn’t want to go into that, he never wanted to talk about that ever again.

“Somebody got hurt while I was sick. It was an accident, but my brothers...”

He shrugged his shoulders and stopped talking, he moved his hand from under Alfred's and held himself close with his arms.

He was shutting down again, Alfred could see that. His body language was suddenly defensive. He could see how much talking about his brothers hurt Hvitserk, so Alfred decided to drop this conversation for now. Perhaps Elsewith also noticed how uneasy Hvitserk looked now after talking about his brothers, she knew from personal experiences after seeing Alfred upset on various occasions over Athelred’s betrayal, and then at his murder at their mother’s hands how it felt to be hurt by somebody so close to you, but to never get closure because the one who hurt you was now gone. So she smiled at him and asked him what she knew would be a welcomed change of subject.

“How is Lagatha doing? Did she find somewhere to set up a farm? When she was here said she wanted to go back home to set up a new farm somewhere quiet, is she settled in now? I do miss her, she was a lovely woman.”

She knew that was a mistake the second she finished speaking.

Hvitserk had gone from looking a little uneasy to downright sick. This Northmen had always looked pale to her, but now Hvitserk’s very eyes had gone wide, his lips were trembling and he looked like he wanted to run, if only his body would allow it. There was a growing silence in which Hvitserk just stared ahead as if in shock, one hand now rubbing his other arm.

“How about we get you back to your room” Alfred said, breaking the silence. “You have much to think about and you should rest, you are still recovering. I will have my guards take you back to your room, try to get some sleep and we’ll speak more in the morning”

He waved his hand and on que two guards came over, they helped Hvitserk to his feet and placed the walking aid back under his arm. Alfred stood up and waited for Elsewith to join him, they walked out of the room behind Hvitserk and bid him goodnight outside the hall to his chamber. The king’s room was close enough to Hvitserk’s chambers, but still a few halls down, so they both walked in silence, thinking about everything that had been said … and everything that hadn’t been said.

“You didn’t tell him” Elsewith said, as she closed the door on Alfred’s chambers.

“I couldn’t,” Alfred replied to her. He sunk down into the chair by his fire and rubbed under his left arm, the sword wound itched him like crazy, it was slowly healing, but the physicians told him it would be some time until he could expect that arm to have any strength back in it, he prayed each night to the Lord to keep any Northmen away, because he was not in any fit position to fight them should they come.

“You need to tell him Alfred” She said. He closed his eyes and put his face into his almost useless left hand as Elsewith entered the enclosed part of the chamber where their bed was, she came out moments later with her nightdress on, her gown over the top, brushing her hair out from all the delicate hair ornaments she wore.

“I know my love” he looked up, breathing deeply, he was exhausted himself, between the ongoing stomach pains, his wounded arm and his constant anxiety at keeping Wessex, Mercia and East Anglia safe, he had to find time to sit in Witans, find taxes to buy boat builders, visit and spent time with his son and talk to Hvitserk to gain his trust, yet so far all he had managed was to get Hvitserk to speak in full sentences to him. He needed to build more trust with Hvitserk, but he knew the Pagan was keeping things from him too.

“Did you see his face when you mentioned Lagatha?” Alfred asked Elsewith. She sat on the arm of the chair and started to stroke his short hair, he looked so young with his hair short, she loved his long hair the best as that is how he wore it when they first met, but short hair looked beautiful on him too.

“I did” She replied “I had hoped I had only imagined it, but he looked terrified. Do you think something happened? He won’t speak about his brothers or how they died, he acted all weird when you asked why his brothers wanted to hurt him and then his face when I said Lagatha’s name. I think he did something he won't tell us about”

Alfred didn’t know, he was scared pushing Hvitserk to speak would break the fragile little trust that had been built between them, but knowing Hvitserk was not forthcoming with something suspicious was making Alfred equally uneasy.

“We trust him unless he gives us a reason not too” Alfred said, he had closed his eyes for a second while Elsewith played with his hair, it was the only thing that calmed his racing anxiety. “That is what we agreed”.

“That trust works both ways though” Elsewith said “This time must be different from the others. Your grandfather fell for the lies, first from their father and then his sons. Ubbe also, no matter how much you considered him a friend, he went back to being a Pagan, so did Torvi. This time it has to be real, it had to be genuine and you need to tell Hvitserk… They can’t be a Pagan king in England.”

Alfred nodded reluctantly, he knew his plan was not working, even Elsewith could see it.

“I just don’t want to upset him. I get the feeling he is much more sensitive then his brothers. His gods are all he has known his entire life, but you are right my love. I will tell him, give me to Christmas. I will show him this life is better than the one he has left, I will learn him kindness and compassion and he may wish to convert on his own, or I will tell him what we decided, that he can convert to our religion or join his family in his afterlife. You are of course right, there can never be a Pagan king in England, that can not be allowed, but one day I hope Hvitserk will be a king of England and a Christian. He will be baptized into our faith or put to death to join his own people, but I would rather it be by his own choice and not forced upon him”

Alfred rubbed his face once more, this was one topic he didn't want to think about.

"I just hope he picks correctly" He said.

[riverdamien]

You Shall Be With Me Paradise

"Sloughing Towards Galilee!"

(Nick, 18-year-old Homeless Youth!)

"Today Remember Me When You Come Into Paradise!

"I have never really heard this, and at first it seems scary!

Can I screw up all the time and go to Paradise?

I live in hell now!

The streets are hell!

Believing Jesus,  I will arise in Paradise!

Paradise comes quickly, seeing my friend get stabbed and die, I realize time is short!

Paradise seems far away from here in the grime of the street!

You will be a part of my life from here on out!

I am pretty glad to know thieves will be in Paradise!

-------------------------------------

On this birthday, the words of Elif Shafnite ring out reminding me to look up, be alert, and be content:

There are different ways of growing old, perhaps, some wither first in the body, others in the mind yet others in the soul.

And as I struggle with growing old I find myself seeing all of my faults, my difficult personality at times or for some all the time, and my need to always feel like I need to apologize, the words of Dorothy Day to a friend remind me that we are "working towards perfection", and I will always "miss the mark" when I "shoot the arrow" "towards perfection" every day, but I try:

"Remember we are comrades stumbling along, not saints, drifting."  "I try!"

As Nick writes each day, he is writing of me, and I am just as good as he is, no better, no less, and I know God will welcome me into Paradise!

I will celebrate John Wesley's renewal of Covenant today, and I affirm with my whole being:

"For I delivered to you as of first importance, which I also received: That Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time. Then he appeared to James and the Apostles. (I Corinthians 15:5-6).

We believe and trust in God the Father Almighty.

We believe and trust in Jesus Christ, his Son.

We believe and trust in the Holy Spirit.

We believe and trust in the Three in One.

"I am a freelance, a tramp, a vagabond for Christ. I must go until Christ's work is done, I go like the wind." Kawaga and "I will love to the point of folly." Dorothy Day.

I invite you to join me on the journey of another year!

Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Prayer of St. Brendan!

"Help me to journey beyond the familiar

and into the unknown.

Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with You. Christ of the mysteries I trust in You to be stronger than each storm within me.

I will trust in the darkness and know that my times, even now, are in Your hands.

Tune my spirit to the music of heaven,

and somehow, make my obedience count for You"

------------------------------------------------

(Temenos and Fr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Press Release:

"Jesus continues to be crucified in all those who are crucified in history...There are not enough Stations of the Cross to depict all the ways in which the  Lord continues to be persecuted, imprisoned, condemned to death and crucified today!"

-Leonardo Boff

What: Non-Violent Witness in the Tenderloin to commemorate Good Friday!

Tenderloin Stations of the Cross

“A Journey With People on the Street!”

“Our Haunted-ness!”

When:

March 29, 2024

Noon-2:00 p.m.

Meet in Front of Polk Street-Side City Hall

Why:

There are approximately 8, 000 people on the street, without housing, or health care, they suffer from prejudice, anger, and hatred; they are shuffled around as if they are "objects" rather than human beings.

As followers of Jesus, and all who care, living in a war-making and uncaring empire we say loudly and clearly with Jesus: "Love one Another," "Love your enemies", "Be merciful as God is merciful," "Put away the sword," and "Thou shalt not kill."

We witness as people of faith who believe in God's reign of justice, love, peace, and restorative justice!

Sponsored by Temenos Catholic Worker

For more information:

Fr. River Sims, D.Min., D.S.T.

415-305-2124

temenos@gmail.com

www.temenos.org

www.paypal.com

---------------

\

[the-body-of-billie]

[non-canonical Elmsbury Vampyre]

Chapter Three

“CAUTION: Unstable Environment Prone to Underground Collapses; Do Not Enter Unless Authorised to do so and When Wearing the Correct Safety Gear”

***

Elmsbury Weekly

Obituaries

              Stephen Wilde, 44, born 12th November 1972 in Derby City Hospital, died tragically 1st October 2017 in a collapse within the Elmsbury-Gallows Museum Renovation Site third crosscut. Stephen was a loving father, husband, and brother to William (14) and Christopher Wilde (10), (sons), Mary Wilde (42), (wife), and Jonathan Wilde (51), (brother). Never one to frown, he was a kind and generous man, always one to give the leftovers of his dinner to his late-home hungry children, and one to share in his love of sports and history with all family members. He was one to hold open doors for anyone and give up his seat on buses and trains. Stephen’s goal in life was solely to be a successful father who raised two upstanding sons, and it is safe to say that though fatherhood was short for him, he managed to do so.

A public funeral for Stephen is being held at Holy Trinity Church on Church Street near Forest and Church Street Estates, Elmsbury-Gallows on 7th October 2017 at noon, hosted by Reverend James Fairfax, a beloved reverend of the family. Please come to pay respects and pray for the deceased’s loved ones to be free of visions of his spirit and to allow him to pass on into Heaven. God bless Stevie Wilde, may he rest easy.

Obituary written by Mary Wilde and sons.

***

              Amy leaned with her back to the noticeboard outside Professor Holly’s classroom, staring out of the great rectangular window which cut a hole in the side of the stairwell up to the second floor of the extensions done to the school building in the 60’s. The board behind her itched the back of her neck from the now a few dozen of curled edges on home printed Missing Dog posters that had spread out from Maisie Bailey’s, which seemed to have been patient zero. Amy’s scuffed black boot tapped on the linoleum floor to the beat of Lesbian Vampyres From Outer Space by Scary Bitches, currently blasting at full volume through her headphones. She studied the outside, not the most scenic of views, watching as the car park became less and less crowded as the students filtered out from it since the day had ended. A couple of year tens had poked holes in the top of their water bottles with compasses and were spraying unsuspecting year sevens and substitute teachers from their hiding spot in the bike shed; Amy couldn’t hear a thing from way up there, smiling a little to herself as the antics took place in complete silence, save for her music, like a black-and-white slapstick film. She looked up to a clock on the wall above the door to Professor Holly’s classroom: 3:32.

Both he and Kat were apparently late.

It had been about a week since their detentions had started, though it felt like years, and Amy resented the way that time was seemingly moving half as quickly as it did when she was doing things she actually enjoyed. It felt simply unfair, though she reconciled the feeling and decided that complaining about it wasn’t going to change anything, even if the person she was complaining to was herself. From her downward peripheral, a shape had started climbing the stairs. Amy didn’t see who it was at first, the light from outside obscured the person in complete blackness save for a small slit of narrow lighting across a skeletal face. She took her headphones off and rested them around her neck, turning the volume down a little as she could hear it chittering in a now muddy, static quality. Her eyes focused on the figure coming up the stairs: it was Mike Gregory.

He was hunched a little, as if carrying something heavy on his back, though he didn’t have a bag with him seemingly only turning up in his school shirt and blazer and a pair of joggers which hung loosely about his frame. His skin had faded to the colour of his sandy-blond hair which now had a faint greenish tint to it as if he had tried to dye it blue but washed it out too early. It looked over-washed, straw-like and dry, though the front few locks were greasy and stuck to his forehead, overgrown and unkempt. His cheeks were hollow and black, his lips were white and ashen and his irises were two watery brown spots in the jaundiced pool of his whites. It was as if he had become sepia.

He stopped at the top of the stairs to catch his breath, looking at Amy with something she first thought was triumph, but subtly became relief:

“Found you.” He rasped.

Amy didn’t say anything, caught in a glitch between telling him to go away and asking him if he was hurt. Weird to feel concern for Mike Gregory of all people, but it was becoming very apparent that the circumstances that rendered him this way were also very much weird. Her mind flicked back to when she had seen him last: well-fed and jovial standing at the top of the hill, eyes and white teeth glinting in the twilight.

“Now,” he swallowed against a sandpaper throat, the light from the window haloing his messy hair, “lift this curse off me, alright?”

“Curse?”

Mike scoffed weakly, stumbling towards Amy a little, shooting out a thin hand to grip the banister for balance, making her flinch slightly, “that’s what you’ve done, right? Put some weird witchy curse on me?”

Maybe he was sicker than she had first thought. Amy straightened up against the noticeboard, trying to inch a little further away from him in case he was contagious, “curse— what curse?” she met his stooping gaze, “I don’t understand, Mike.”

His eyes pierced her, searching for any sign she was lying to him. Upon finding nothing, they welled up slightly, “please… you’ve got your revenge, okay? I know I’ve not been—” he searched, “—not been the nicest of people these past years, alright, but…” he trailed off, wanting for her to drop the badly-concealed concern plastered to her face, aching for her to tell him it was all one big joke, “…but this isn’t it… you can’t just do this to me.”

“Mike, I don’t know what you want from me,” Amy pleaded, “whatever’s happening, you don’t look well at all- maybe this is all from a fever or something.”

He paused for a moment, dropping his gaze to a small spot just next to her on the floor. His legs gave way, and he slumped down against the railings, tucking his knees to his chest, “I don’t know what’s happening, Cokes,” he didn’t look at her, “I just… I just want it to stop.”

Amy sat down opposite him, leaning against the wall, “what do you want to stop, Mike.”

He said nothing, his head twitching slightly in a way he was clearly trying to suppress as he glanced through the railings nearly obsessively, peering down at the floor below, “I keep trying to hurt myself.”

Amy wanted to reach out a hand to comfort him, “Mike… if that’s true then you need to talk to someone—”

He shook his head, laughing a little, “No… no they won’t— they wouldn’t let me look…” he looked back up at her, his eyes wide and yellow, “…they would stop me from looking for him.”

“Looking for who?” She cut down the tree with the olive branch. Had he taken something?

Mike wordlessly replied: he made his hand into a pointing finger, and exhaustively tapped his chest with it twice.

“Someone’s looking for you?”

The boy’s expression faltered: maybe she didn’t understand, “something like that.”

“Well Mike you need to tell someone if you’re being stalked—”

“Oh my God, you don’t get it!” He shot up, towering over her, his eyes glaring yellow holes in a shadowed, deathly face, “I told you, Cokes, I keep trying to hurt myself.”

Amy pressed herself back against the wall. Mike Gregory’s eyes grew bright with tears, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t—”  

Silence hung in the air like a fog. Amy watched as his face contorted painfully through its micro-expressions, so fast-paced and fleeting she couldn’t discern what any of them portrayed. He sighed, his features softening into something that Amy hadn’t really seen on him before: something genuine, “I wanted to be mates y’know,” he admitted, “I actually think you guys are kinda cool, it’s just Harrison and Henry who make me into a dickhead sometimes.” He laughed a little, “Hell, maybe sometime we could hang out- you could take me on one of your ghost hunts or something.”

“I thought you hated me because I cursed you?”

Mike waved a thin hand, “Nah…” he coughed up a small smile, “none of that shit’s real anyway.”

Amy paused, a question bubbling up towards her lips, “did you fake that photo- the one of the graveyard?”

Mike looked at her as if she were mad.

“Piss off Gregory before I chin you into next Tuesday!” Kat was marching up the stairs, still sporting the trouser-skirt, now made even more angry by the appearance of the source of their unjust detentions. Their eyes widened in surprise when Mike did- piss off, that is- and hurried down the stairs, the square of white light coming through the window engulfing him until he was completely swallowed by it.  

“He looked rough.” Kat remarked. Amy couldn’t tell if they were as concerned as she was.

“Kat,” she turned to her friend, “I’m gonna ask you something weird.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not stalking Mike, are you?”

Kat looked taken aback, “What!?”

“Sorry, it’s just,” he was gone now, but Amy’s gaze lingered on where he had been sat, “he said some stuff to me there that’s proper concerning, like, danger-of-death concerning- I dunno, it’s a bit dumb but I thought maybe you were like trying to get back at him or something.”

“Oh shit,” Kat did look uneasy now, “God, no, no, I’m not doing that at all, like, I hate the guy and everything, but it in’t as if I want him dead.”  

***

              The headlights illuminated the winding form of Deerfolk Way as Neil snaked his way back up to Johnson’s Farm. He had found himself listening to an old Tom Lehrer CD that he thought he’d lost a number of years back, and had reminded himself to look for but never made good on that promise. It had been a lot later than usual when he was extracted from his classroom by cleaning staff, and it was well into the early hours of what could actually be considered nighttime by Autumnal standards when Neil slammed his feet down on the brake and clutch, cursing at the shifting form standing patiently in the driveway; a silhouette he was all too accustomed to recognising. He shut off the car and stepped out into the brisk October night.

The light on the outside of his front door illuminated Jim the Vicar from behind, though Neil could make out that sinister, many-toothed smile that he hated so much dimly glowing on a backdrop of absolute black, and the pleasant, cordial manner in which Jim always approached the person he had set his sights on talking to. Holly recalled a joke made when watching a nature documentary: something about sharks.

“Neil! I knocked but you weren’t in,” he folded two white hands sheepishly over his front, “I just thought I’d wait for you- assuming you wouldn’t be too long.”

Neil made his way to the house, standing in front of his door but not opening it, hoping that he could intangibly pull Jim around to face him where the lamplight would illuminate him fully, so they weren’t standing under cover of complete darkness, “You’ve never come looking for me here.”

Jim shrugged, “I supposed you wanted me to leave you alone, but I knew you’d forgive me for wanting so badly to reconnect with an old friend,” he smiled wide, the yellow buzzing glow of the lamp creating dark, c-shaped pits at the corners of his mouth with the push of his cheeks, glinting off his teeth and settling in the whites of his eyes.

“Well, you supposed right.” Neil said, flatly.

“My apologies, then I’ll make this brief, shall I?” Jim stepped forward a little, just stopping before the little step up to the front door, “Where are the books?”

“Books, what books?” he knew exactly what books Jim was talking about.

“Oh, come on, Neil, a man like you would know that playing stupid is extremely out of character,” he had stopped smiling now, his eyes forceful and unblinking, staring unmoving into Neil’s, who had backed up against the door a little, “it’s starting again- actually starting.”

He had seen that look in Jim’s eyes before, now reflecting back at him a watery, blurry memory that only revisited him in the seconds between being asleep and being awake. Neil stared right back at him, his jaw tightening, “No it isn’t.”

Jim laughed shortly, “I thought that ‘some things should stay buried’.” He’d got him, “or was that just a misinterpretation on my part? Not like you to deny evidence that’s right in front of you,” he chuckled again to himself, “maybe you’ve been replaced.”  

“Don’t say that— don’t joke about that.” His voice peaked a little. He tried to bandage his nerves.

Jim’s eyes were almost luminescent, “It’s looking for me, Neil, which means it’s also looking for you,” he leaned forward, though never moving up the steps, keeping himself at arms-length. Neil knew what he was going to say next, “Fairfaxes and Borthwicks.” His face hardened still, turning into a badly hidden grimace as his voice picked up a snappy, almost rhythmic tempo, “I know you kept them, you said you threw them out, but you of all people would never let a piece of local history- our own history- not to mention something as valuable as those books be lost to time.”

“Go home, Jim.”

“No,” he shook his head erratically, “No you’re not— you’re not listening to me,” The reverend’s face was flat and pale and burning in place like the last image projected on a hot TV, “we can have what we wanted— what we tried so hard to get back then.” Neill flinched a little as the other man’s eyes darted wildly as they scanned his face. Jim’s composure weakened still, “Come on, you’re acting like you weren’t the one who got me into this in the first place. Don’t you still want to know?”

“You—” Neil caught his tongue before it lashed out, “—I don’t have any damn books, okay?” he fidgeted around in his pocket for his keys, “go home.”

Jim said nothing for a moment, that pleasant smile recapturing his face as his shoulders softened and un-tensed, “If you say so.”

Neil got himself into the house before Jim even turned away from the doorstep, slamming the door shut and sliding the chain bolt into its place. Tomorrow he would go out and buy a new lock for the cabinet.

***

              Three weeks passed before Amy and Kat even thought about the interaction with Mike Gregory on the stairs; despite it’s general strangeness, neither of them cared enough about him to remember it. They had empathy for him, sure, but sympathy was harder to come by. The only time it had been brought up again was the night it had happened when Amy retold the events to Trent in a vague overview.

“We should go on another hunt during half-term,” Trent was picking at a fraying thread on the hem of his blazer, “we haven’t been back in the graveyard for yonks now.” The quiet drum of tapping keys and buzzing conversation acted as white noise beneath his soft and measured voice. Amy felt Kat sigh dramatically next to her, “We’re all just too preoccupied because someone—” they pointedly looked over to Professor Holly, sunk too low behind his computer to be seen, “—insists on setting us shit tons of work to do, like, whatever happened to all that ‘work-life balance’ BS they had that one assembly on.”

A voice replied from behind the computer, “Kat, unfortunately it’s my job to make sure you can get a job in the future.”

Kat stuck their tongue out, before profusely apologising for doing so and getting on with their work. A few minutes passed before they were called on again.

“Hm, you three?” Holly pushed back on his desk chair so they could actually see his face, “just got an email asking you to go up to Mrs Pratchett’s- Mr Robins is going to collect you—it says to wait outside.”

Amy’s brow furrowed, flitting through the last term to try and think of anything they could have done wrong since Doorgate (as Kat insisted on calling it). Unsurprisingly, nothing came up.

The noticeboard outside the classroom was now plastered with Missing Dog posters, so much so that its original rectangular shape had been rendered into an irregular, jutting form, bulging out in a bevel; some posters had fallen to the floor underneath the board, no longer able to hold onto the great mass of old paper with a single flimsy thumbtack. Kat poked the noticeboard with an absently-placed finger, “you think anyone’s looking into all this?”

“I dunno, my mum said it might be some sort of animal from the forest that’s made it’s way into town- stuff like this has happened before apparently- back in, like, the 80’s and stuff,” Trent slumped down on the floor, brushing aside loose posters and drawing-pins with a leather-gloved hand, “not to this scale, though.”

“I don’t like it,” Amy leaned back against the bannister, arms folded tightly over her chest, it was colder now Autumn had taken hold of the town.

“Nobody likes it, Amy,” Kat pointed out.

“I know, it’s just—like, I’m very glad Sir Pounce is an indoor cat now,” she paused, a nasty thought creeping up behind her, “d’you think that photo… what if that was whatever’s doing this?”

“Nah, don’t think so,” Trent looked up at his friend, “I still think the photo’s fake, and even if it’s not, I’m pretty sure someone would notice if a giant hand creature was kicking about murking dogs.”

“What about the photo Amy took, of me by the bush?” Kat seemed a little mousy.

Trent replied that he maintained his stance that it was just a prop thrown away. Before any form of argument could break out, Mr Robins standing at the foot of the stairs, calling up to them, “Amy Cokes, Katherine Burton, Trent Lewis-Scott? Would you like to come with me please? Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble.”

***

              “These are officers Burke and Hare from the Elmsbury Police Station,” Mr Robins introduced them, and the two men shook Amy’s hand last as the three filed into the office, sitting sheepishly on their chairs.The teacher left the room, closing the door on a cool silence which hung damp in the air. Again, Amy found herself furiously rifling through the events of this term- the only thing she could come up with was that- worst case scenario- Mike Gregory’s family had decided to press charges on them for assault. Even so, why would they summon Trent there as well; he hadn’t been involved at all, not even in discussing the detentions. Come to think of it, surely it would only be Kat who would be prime concern in that case. The more Amy dwelled on it, the less convincing it became.

Trent gave her an apprehensive look from across the row of them, which Kat joined in on. Officer Burke, a spindly man with a receding crop of ginger hair and a face closely resembling that of a pug, spoke gently, small vertical notepad and Berol in hand, “don’t worry you three, we just want to ask you a few questions.”

“What about?” Kat’s voice sounded smaller in the cacophonous office. Burke ignored them, “we have spoken to two other classmates of yours, uhhm…” he glanced at a previous page in the notepad, “…Harrison Burke and Henry Clarke- we’re assuming you know them, even if it’s just as acquaintances.”

Amy felt a nagging sensation at the back of her neck- she twitched her head a little to dispel it. Burke continued, “and they stated that you three were present at the old radio tower about a month ago, with their friend Mike— Mike Gregory.”

“Yeah, they kicked us off it,” Kat said before they could stop themself.

“Hm,” Burke glanced at his partner, “What do you mean ‘kicked you off it’?”

Kat paused, “uhm, like, I dunno, we were up there then they came up there and told us to get lost.”

Burke made a note.

“Hm, okay… well, we also want to know what you three were doing up there, if anything?”

A moment. Maybe this was about the weed? Or trespassing? Amy didn’t feel like that was the case, the fields are public property. She was pretty sure anyway. And they hadn’t been smoking anything that time, honestly it had been ages since the three of them had a stoner phase.

“Uh, well, we were just hanging out up there,” Trent glanced to his friends, “if it was trespassing, we didn’t know, there aren’t any signs.”

The two cops exchanged another look, this time, it was Hare who spoke- a tall, broad man with a bald head and small, piercing, bright green eyes, “that isn’t what we’re here to talk about- those fields are public paths so you’re clear there: we want to know if you noticed anything…” he tilted his head from side to side, trying to find the right word, “…anything concerning about Mike Gregory?”

Oh.

Amy knew she had to speak up- if that was what they were asking- but not about their encounter at the tower but about the one in the hallway. Had something happened to him?  What if something really bad had happened to him. Would they be implicated? No, no that wouldn’t make sense, why would they be implicated in… whatever this was? Was he dead?

“Is he okay?” She volunteered, not wanting to launch too far into her encounter with him on the stairs, just in case.

Burke took a sharp breath in, Hare’s eyes suddenly fixated on her, “This morning Mike’s parents went into his room to wake him up and he was gone.”

A coldness oscillated through the three friends.

Hare continued, “we think he’s run away, but we are still short on a motive so if there is anything you three can maybe volunteer that could point to one it would help the investigation.” He sat back, “you were the last to see him, save for Henry and Harrison, so please: anything, anything at all?” He turned his focus back to Amy, “you asked if he was okay, just then, did he do anything that might spike that concern or is it simply… just empathy?”

You need to tell them.

“Uhm…”

Tell them.

Amy looked to Kat, whose eyes were bolted straight ahead, their face ashy and pale. Their breathing was controlled and concentrated, like they were focusing on not throwing up.

“One little thing, I think,” she began, “like, three weeks ago—”

The shrill bellow of the school bell pierced the room, ricocheting off the walls and denting the great metal filing cabinet, echoing into a diminuendo until the room was silent again. Burke told them to stay put.

Hare persisted, “you were saying?”

Amy stuttered, trying so hard to painfully push the words out. She knew what she wanted to say but somehow not how to say it. It was if she were chasing the memory, and it was getting further and further away from her, “Well, he just—I ran into him, or rather he ran into me, when I was waiting for a detention like, I dunno two or three weeks ago—”

Burke made a note.

“—and he just, well, he said some stuff that was… I dunno, weird.”

“What did he say?”

“I…” Amy fought to remember, “…he said he was scared he’d hurt himself, then I think he got mad at me when I tried to tell him to speak to someone—he said I ‘didn’t understand’.”

“And that’s verbatim?” Hare asked.

“What is?”

“That he said you ‘didn’t understand’?”

“Yes, yes I remember him saying that to me, he was mad- really mad and then he got, uh, upset, started crying and stuff- then Kat came upstairs to the classroom, and he left.” Amy felt a little guilty about her conscious decision to leave out Kat yelling at Mike to piss off- she really didn’t like the idea of this turning into an ironically misdirected bullying incident.

Burke made a note.

“Okay…” Hare turned his focus to the other two, “you two got anything else? Anything at all will be helpful.”

They shook their heads. The room took a breath it had been holding for a good few minutes now; Burke and Hare got up, told them not to speak publicly about the investigation, and then ushered the three out.

***

              As they descended the winding stairs back down to the hallway, an uncharacteristic lack of words had befallen Amy, Kat, and Trent. Kat looked pale, Trent had a semi-permanent frown, and Amy felt like she had missed something out. That nagging came again, lodged at the back of her neck like a tick. She scratched it.

“D’you think he ran off because of us?” Kat’s voice was quiet.

“I…” Trent began, “I dunno,” he relented, “I don’t think so- we didn’t do anything to him, it would make more sense if one of us ran off because of him.”

“Maybe something at home then,” Kat’s gaze was firmly on the ground, “like, his family being shit or something- didn’t you say, Amy, that he said he wanted to hurt himself or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t want to, it was more like he was scared he would, like he thought that he wasn’t in control of himself,” Amy added, “I honestly thought he’d taken something- he looked awful, like really awful.” She reflected back on the conversation outside Professor Holly’s. The fear in Mike’s eyes was that of a hunted animal trying to outrun a thing much bigger than itself; he had had a look about him of a creeping realisation that he was just not smart enough to escape something- it was nothing like how he had been at the tower not even a week prior. He looked like he had been deprived of food and water for months, Amy doubted that only a week of not eating could do that to a person, no matter how extreme their manner of starvation was. There was something so real about the way he’d kept looking around himself, glancing through the railings.

“Fuck.”

“What? What is it?”

Amy knew she had forgotten something, “I forgot to tell them about the stalking.”

“The what?” Trent looked confused, “I thought he was just unwell—”

“No, no he said he was being stalked, I think- he inferred it.” Amy honestly wasn’t sure, “maybe? He was so incoherent so I don’t know what he was getting at- but he might have been.”

“Should we go back up?” Kat offered.

“No shit we should go back up,” Trent was already turning around, “what if he’s got, like, kidnapped or someth—”

The pealing of the bell soared up the thin spiral staircase, ringing in their skulls and bouncing around behind their eyes. They had reached the bottom of the stairs. It was the end of break. Mr Robins opened the door, “get to class you three.”

Amy opened her mouth to protest, but she found herself already back in the corridor. It was all just a little too late to turn around.

***

              “So I am going to assign you work to do over half term—”

A unanimous groan came from the class. Professor Holly continued, “—just a little research task since it’s the start of the year, it’s to start getting into the swing of A-Level style source gathering,” he sat down on his desk to address the class, arms folded, eyes smiling through his glasses, “I want you to go out and look for both primary and secondary sources for the 17th Century project, extra points for local historical events- Matthew Hopkins did commit a witch trial here, which I am sure some of you know a little bit about already, so there’s an idea of where to start.”

Amy, Kat, and Trent were back in for the second half of the lesson, having missed their break entirely. Holly continued, “remember to use books to find your primary sources, not Google or Wikipedia since they are—”

He gestured for everyone to join in with him, which they did, “—shit.”  He smiled, “very good, and nobody tell Mr Robins I got you guys to say that.”

`Kat and Amy still had to attend detention after school, telling Trent to run to Cery’s to grab a few cans of off-brand Coke and meet them at the tower, giving him their respective change. The detention was no shorter or less painstakingly boring than any of the previous ones, despite it being the last day of term. On their way out, Professor Holly wished them a good break, a sentiment that they both returned in kind. As Amy descended the stairs after Kat, the eyes on the Missing Poster for Mike Gregory- placed starkly in the centre of the noticeboard- followed her movement until she was out of sight.

[ahopkins1965]

 

7 SCRIPTURES ON SURRENDER

by Kelly McSparran



Every summer at the local pool, small kids jump gleefully towards the water yelling, “Daddy, catch me!” These children aren’t worrying about the potential consequences or wondering if their parent is really all that trustworthy. They just want to experience the freedom and joy that is available when they can fully depend on their loving father.

Likewise, God calls us, His precious children, to fully surrender to Him. Not because He is interested in controlling our lives or ruining our fun. Quite the opposite. Jesus came so that we could have life to the full (John 10:10).

Throughout Scripture, we are called to surrender our hearts and minds to God. This daily act of obedience isn’t rooted in outward performance to gain the Father’s favor. It is an inward heart change that can give us peace in our circumstances and hope for the future.

Here are seven Bible verses to guide you as you work on the practice of surrendering to Christ:

Surrender Your Reputation

But everything that was a gain to me, I have considered to be a loss because of Christ. More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of him I have suffered the loss of all things and consider them as dung, so that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own from the law, but one that is through faith in Christ—the righteousness from God based on faith. Philippians 3:7–9 (CSB)

Surrender Your Burdens

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28 (CSB)

Surrender Your Aspirations

Then he said to them all, “If anyone wants to follow after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life because of me will save it. Luke 9:23-24 (CSB)

Surrender Your Priorities

The one who loves a father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; the one who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Matthew 10:37 (CSB)

Surrender Your Plans

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:34 (CSB)

Surrender Your Body

Don’t you know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought at a price. So glorify God with your body. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 (CSB)

Surrender Your Worldly Identity

I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20 (CSB)

Surrendering can be hard. Let us come alongside you. 

Surrendering at its core is yielding our power to another. This can feel scary at first. But as we learn to yield our desire for control, we will gain access to God’s strength.

 

To help with your journey, download our new Introduction to Spiritual Practices resource.

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About Trochia

Trochia is here to equip followers of Jesus to understand and apply God’s Word to their life. Pastor and mentor Ines Franklin began Trochia because she saw a need for developing the character of leaders from a Biblically-based approach, online. Our team is made up of leadership peers, generous storytellers and thoughtful teachers.

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