#solemnity of christ the king

[many-sparrows]

O Christ, what can it mean for us To claim you as our king? What royal face have you revealed Whose praise the church would sing? Aspiring not to glory's height To power, wealth, and fame You walked a different, lowly way Another's will your aim You came, the image of our God To heal and to forgive To shed your blood for sinners' sake That we might rise and live To break the law of death you came The law of love to bring A diff'rent rule of righteousness A diff'rent kind of king

[aure-entuluva-2407]

Christus Vincit

Lo, He comes with cloud descending, Once for favored sinners slain! Thousand thousand saints attending Swell the triumph of His train: "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God appears on earth to reign!" Every eye shall now behold Him, Robed in dreadful majesty- Those who set at naught and sold Him, Pierced and nailed Him to the tree, Deeply wailing, deeply wailing, Deeply wailing shall the true Messiah see. The dear tokens of His Passion Still His dazzling Body bears- Cause of endless exultation To His ransomed worshipers! With what rapture, with what rapture, With what rapture gaze we on those glorious Scars! Yea, Amen! Let all adore Thee, High on Thy eternal throne! Savior, take the power and glory, Claim the kingdom for Thine Own! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Everlasting God, come down!

It's the Solemnity of Christ the King, one of my favorite feasts and the end of the Catholic Liturgical Year! On this feast, we celebrate Christ as King of the Universe, and look towards His second coming at the end of time- fitting, as next Sunday begins Advent, our time of preparation in remembrance of His first coming at Christmas.

God bless you, and Happy New Year (almost)!

[inspiredbyjesuslove]

Christ the King

[jameslmartello]

Christus vincit! Christus regnat! Christus imperat! - Laudes Regiae - Gr...

[juiceman1979]

Happy solemnity of Christ the king

Today the church celebrates the feast of Christ the king. It was designated as a feast in 1925 to promote peace. The feast is celebrated at the end of the liturgical year before advent starts. The feast can happen from November 20 to 26. Christ the king is refereed to the king seated at the right hand of…

[pmamtraveller]

FRANK BERNARD DICKSEE - THE TWO CROWNS, 1900

The artwork shows an English prince from the medieval times arriving home in victory on a white horse adorned with three feathers. With a golden crown on his head, he looks up at a crucifix, where the thorny crown of Christ stands out against the prince's jewelled headpiece and lavish armor. Despite being surrounded by admirers, the prince is captivated by the image of Christ.

The title of this piece alludes to both the king's crown before us and the thorned crown worn by Christ during crucifixion. This imagined scene combines medieval culture with religious teachings widely adhered to in British society during that period.

Attention is drawn to the devotion shown to the prince in the painting, with flower petals being thrown into the air, coming from both above and below. The king is being eagerly and affectionately watched by young women with fair skin. There is certainly a romantic element to the passion and power found in this composition. The backdrop features medieval architecture, adorned with fluttering banners and soldiers standing in solemn watch.

Dicksee finished The Two Crowns in 1900, when he was in his late forties and nearing his artistic prime. Although he was elected to the Academy in 1891, the majority of his distinguished awards were received much later. As late as 1924, Dicksee was set to become the President of the Academy. A year later, he received a knighthood.

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 6 Prompt: Crush cw: period typical homophobia read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

The Hawkins High Library is somehow both quiet and bustling. There’s not a free table in sight; students hunched together in groups of twos and threes. Loners are forced to share with others. All of them with their noses deep into study guides, highlighters perched between tense lips. Some flip through flashcards, mumbling answers as the librarian watches over with a stern look, ready to shush anyone who dares make a sound. 

The sun beats down on the small room, rays of warmth promising free days to come. Summer break is on the horizon. All that stands between them and three months of endless freedom is finals. 

Finals, which, in Eddie’s case, don’t just promise a summer of freedom. But a life free from high school altogether. Assuming he manages to finally pass Mrs. O’Donnell’s chemistry final. 

The odds of this happening, though, are not very great. Especially since he’s already failed her chemistry class once before. (Honestly, Hawkins High should just hire a new chemistry teacher and stop putting everyone through her miserable class.) 

But it’s okay because Eddie’s actually been trying this semester. 

As in, he finally suffered through the mortifying ordeal of asking for help and landed himself the best tutor that Hawkins High has to offer: Nancy Wheeler. 

With her help, he’s managed to bring his F up to a low D- which isn’t great, but it's the closest he’s ever been to passing. Now, all he has to do is get a C on the final and submit some lame extra credit essay, and he should be able to turn that D- into a D+ and pass the class. 

At least, that’s the plan. 

Which is why he’s currently tucked away at a library table opposite Nancy and the King of Hawkins high himself, Steve Harrington, instead of bumming around in Jeff’s garage planning their summer Hellfire campaign. 

“Okay,” Nancy says, pulling his attention away from the giant library window. She’s holding an index card in her hands. Her usual pristine manicure chipped. Nails bit as short as possible. Eddie supposes the stress of finals even gets to the nerds. “A proton has what kind of charge?” 

“Positive.” 

She nods, not one for verbal praise, and flips to the next card. “What happens in an endergonic reaction?” 

Shit.

He should know this one. 

Eddie taps his pencil against the table. Tilts his head back until his eyes are focused on the ugly popcorn ceiling of the library as if it holds the answers. It doesn’t, unfortunately. Frustrated, he buries his head in his hands for a moment before peering up at Nancy with his big brown eyes and a solemn look on his face. 

Steve scoffs beside Nancy, looking up from his own study guide to throw an arm possessively around her. 

Eddie’s about to call him out on his weird macho man behavior when his stomach starts to growl. Jesus H. Christ. He knew he shouldn’t have skipped lunch today. 

Nancy sighs, shaking Steve’s arm off of her as she stands. “I’m going to go grab us some snacks from the vending machine.” 

“You’re the best, Wheeler!” Eddie smiles, watching as Nancy walks away. 

When he turns back to the table, ready to flip the flashcard over to learn what an endergonic reaction is, Steve is glaring at him. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest as he leans back in the chair. Eddie can tell he’s trying to look casual and unbothered, but the tension in his jaw and the rage in his eyes say otherwise. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist, my liege?” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid, Munson? I can see you flirting with my girlfriend right in front of me.” 

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded, wide eyes blinking as Steve continues to glare. There’s a rumble in the pit of his stomach, one that stems from laughter instead of hunger, but Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep it at bay. Something tells him laughing at Steve isn’t going to end well for him. He might have a bad track record when it comes to fights, but the only punch Eddie has ever thrown was accidental at a haunted house. And he ended up bruising his own hand instead of the clown’s nose. 

“I don’t have a crush on Nancy.” 

“Sure you don’t,” Steve hums sarcastically, crossing his arms even tighter. 

The stupid sleeves of his striped polo strain against the bulge of his biceps, and Eddie tries his best not to stare. Oh, if only you knew the truth, Harrington.

“Every guy here has a crush on Nancy. Especially since they know they can’t have her.” 

This time, it’s Eddie who scoffs. Objectively, sure, Nancy’s cute and all. But, the audacity of Harrington to think every guy wants her just because he has her is more irritating than comical. He doesn’t think Nancy would be too thrilled about it either. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Harrington, but I don’t think about Nancy like that.” 

“So, what are you a queer then?” Steve snaps. 

Eddie feels his skin heat up like the blood is rushing to his cheeks and his ears, and then, as quickly as the temperature rises, it sinks, sending him into a numbing cold. Judging by Harrington’s wide eye gaze, Eddie assumes he looks like a guy who’s two seconds away from hurling or passing out on the floor. Both of which he’d welcome. Anything is better than having this conversation with Harrington. 

“Wait,” Steve says as if Eddie has the strength to get up from his seat. “Shit, I’m sorry. I— I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry, man. I’m trying not to be this asshole, and then I go and say asshole shit like that. I just—“ Steve drags both hands down his face as he groans.

“You’re in love with her and don’t want another freak stealing her from you?” Eddie supplies, totally caught off guard by the sound of his own voice. Honestly, he’s kinda proud of himself for stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone a dig like that, after Steve’s insult-turned-apology. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with those stupid wide eyes, and his even stupider lips barely parted. 

“What? It was kind of hard to ignore the little lover's quarrel you and Byers got into last winter. But trust me, Harrington. You have nothing to worry about. All I want from Wheeler is her help passing chem. As soon as I get that, I’ll be out of both of your hair.” 

Eddie can tell Steve’s thinking of a way to respond to that, but he never gets the chance because Nancy reappears just then. She dumps a handful of “brain food” on the table  — mostly trail mix concoctions and a lone Snickers bar — and passes each of the boys a bottle of water. It’s not exactly what Eddie was hoping for when she left for snacks, but he’s not about to complain. 

“Okay, so, endergonic reactions.” 

+ + +

Truthfully, Eddie should stop making plans since they never seem to go his way. What was supposed to be a chill, music-filled spring break has turned into quite the opposite. 

Instead, he’s spent the last two days in hiding, with only a handful of people keeping him safe, including Harrington and Wheeler, of all people. 

So much for staying out of their hair, he thinks manically, as he walks in tandem beside Steve in the actual hell-like version of Hawkins. They trail behind Robin and Nancy, Eddie rambling on and on about Steve, but he just can’t shut up. Maybe it’s the nerves, maybe it’s the memory of the three of them back in that library, maybe it’s just Eddie self-sabotaging because seeing Steve in his vest is doing things to him. Things he doesn't have time to deal with, especially not when Wheeler is right there.

Whatever it is, Eddie’s about to do the stupidest thing he’s ever done, aside from jumping into Lover's Lake in the first place.

Steve stops walking the minute Eddie starts talking about why he followed them here. They stop beside a tree, and Eddie angles his body so he’s in front of Steve. Probably closer than he should be, but Eddie’s not about to step backward. Not when there could be a creepy vine ready to trip him and give their positions away to the hoard of bats in the sky. No, thank you. 

He presses on instead, talking about Nancy and her incredible reaction time to Steve being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky waters. 

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back,” Eddie says, eyes locked with Steve’s. “Because that was an unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.” 

With a hand clasped over his heart, Eddie watches as Steve glances towards Nancy’s direction. There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve’s actually going to listen to him. Run after the girl of his dreams and professes his undying love to her in the middle of the hell dimension version of Hawkins. But then, he slowly turns his head back toward Eddie and shakes his head. 

“I don’t...” Steve hesitates, eyes flickering to Eddie’s lips for the briefest of seconds before settling back on his eyes. He shakes his head. “I don’t have a crush on Nancy, man.” 

Eddie cocks his head in surprise. Lets a cackle of a laugh escape his lips as he stares back at Steve in disbelief. “You don’t have to bullshit me, man. It’s pretty clear you still have a thing for her. I mean, every guy in Hawkins has a crush on Nancy, remember.” 

Steve’s brows knit together, lips agape in that same stupid thinking face he gave Eddie all those years ago in the Hawkins High library. It’s aggravating how cute it is, even now when Steve’s covered in blood and grime and God knows what else. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, eyes slowly tracking Eddie from head to toe and back up again. “Turns out you were right. Not every guy has a crush on her. Some of us have eyes for someone else.” 

Just as Steve starts to lean in, the ground beneath them starts to rumble and shake, sending them both toppling to the floor. Whatever moment just happened between them disappears as the reality of their situation hits them again.

There’s no time for crushes when their lives are at stake. 

[thecatholicbozo]

Happy Solemnity of Christ the King y’all!

[angeltreasure]

When I first heard about Marian Consecration, my first thought was skepticism. I personally had great difficulty understanding why it was even a thing, why so many Catholics were apparently doing it, what consecration actually is. I struggled in thought over it greatly when it was recommended to me at the time I revealed for the first time to any priest what happened to me when the enemy physically grabbed and paralyzed me months prior. I have delayed the consecration since, staying very cautious, for some reason… the thought of what Marian Consecration could be made me afraid, not wanting to make any mistake that would turn from honoring my Mother into worship (as I see some pagans try to do). Perhaps the block from learning the truth was a part of my own personal spiritual warfare. Marian Consecration is something not spoken about in Mass sermons either, like so many other things, so all the more I was left in the dark.

This year, I decided to start learning more on my own using proper discernment. I’ve watched and listened to countless hours of real videos of real Catholic priests from my country speak about exorcisms and spiritual warfare and the faith (plus the Catechism). I’ve learned so much that I can’t it all into this post, but to save time, I finally understand now in 2024 why Marian Consecration was highly suggested to me by that priest now. The devil fears Mary most of all, more than God. He can’t stand that a human would be chosen to be the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, so full of grace and goodness to do God’s will. The devil may pray an Our Father during an exorcism but he will never be able to pray the Hail Mary. She will protect me under her mantle and strike at his head. It my Mother Mary, the Queen, who takes my prayer requests to the King, Jesus Christ, like a good queen does for a king. Mary, who will pray for me now and even at the hour of my death, that moment when devil will try his hardest to take me away from God!!!!…

I will be making my official Marian Consecration this year, on Thursday, August 15, 2024, on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (a Holy Day of Obligation).

Please say a Hail Mary for me.

[catholicpriestmedia]

"The Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of Universe." #FeastofChristtheKing

📷 Statue of Christ the King in Döbling Carmelite Monastery, Austria / © sedmak / #GettyImages. #Catholic_Priest #CatholicPriestMedia

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Of Dreams and Dances

Holland March x Reader

Part 2 of a collab with the absolutely stunning @ken-dom after a freaky coincidence about a dream and a movie we both love... about coincidences

Read her beautiful fic and Part 1 Come Back To Me to truly understand our emotional roller coaster we hopped on together ❤️

Just a heads up, it's a tad angsty, and mentions of death, alcohol, and loss.

He wasn’t typically a bouncing ray of sunshine on a regular day, but the last week or so he had been particularly quiet.

You let out a heavy sigh standing at the kitchen sink, staring out into the dismal day that presented itself before you; it had been raining on and off for three days, today it was just overcast, but the dreary weather had been doing nothing for Holland’s solemn mood you had noticed.

You glanced into the living room drying your hands on a towel, music playing softly over your shoulder as you hung it back in place.

Holly, Holland’s daughter from his first (and only) marriage sat with her feet tucked under her, curled in the big armchair engrossed in her book, a Stephen King novel you had recommended to her a few weeks ago you noted; she had a bit of a spooky streak in her like you did…this made you smile.

You grabbed one of the plates with a grilled cheese sandwich off the counter and took it in to her; it took her a minute to realize you had been standing there offering her the plate. You chuckled to yourself when she jumped a little, finally seeing you.

“Good book?”

She nodded taking the plate “Thanks”

You smiled “Just remember, vampires aren’t real”

She scoffed as you turned back toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up “Neither are mermaids” she muttered under her breath burying her nose back in the pages.

“Don’t tell your dad” you call over your shoulder

“Tell her dad what?” Holland asks, barging through the front door like only he can.

“Mermaids aren’t real” she says from her spot on the chair, not bothering to glance up from her book until Holland snatches half of her uneaten sandwich off the plate resting on the arm “Hey!”

He makes a face at her as you come out of the kitchen with a second plate “I made you one too, you don’t have to steal from your daughter”

Before Holland can take the plate, Holly reaches up replacing the missing half of her sandwich; Holland takes the plate in one hand, the other arm locking itself firmly around your waist, the half sandwich he’d stolen off Holly’s plate already gone.

“Jesus Christ Holland, chew” you look at him as he kisses your temple swallowing the last of his mouthful.

He waves a hand dismissively releasing you from his hold as he heads towards the bedroom, plate in hand. “Gonna take a nap”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as he disappears “Love you!” you call after him

A long pause. “Sure thing, sweetheart!” comes his response from somewhere in the bedroom

You sigh, flopping on the couch, turning on the television and flipping channels waiting for something to catch your attention.

“He loves you too, y’know”

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to Holly, her legs draped over the arm of the chair now, empty plate on the floor

“He’s just afraid to say so” she continues, thumb keeping her place in her book “Because of Mom and stuff”

You give her a look and she just nods “I know, don’t say, and stuff” she mimics Holland as she rolls her eyes

You laugh lightly acknowledging her statement with a nod “I know he does”

It’s quiet for a minute before Holly speaks again, this time her voice is a little softer, a little quieter. “It’s her birthday tomorrow”

She’s dropped her head, she’s not looking at you anymore; she doesn’t want to see your reaction, doesn’t want to make eye contact; so much like her dad.

All at once Holland’s recent behavior makes sense, he never coped with his emotions well.

You knew when you met him he had been married before; Holly had very snidely pointed out the fact when you had first met her, you were quite certain she was convinced you were there to do nothing more but ruin Holland’s life.

She has since warmed up to you, confided in you even.

You never asked about his wife, but you knew tidbits,

You knew she had died, tragically, something Holland blamed himself for with a gut wrenching guilt that made your chest hurt.

Holly had told you late one night when you found her in an abandoned lot in their old neighbourhood, their old house it had turned out….

There had been a gas leak, and a fire. “Dad had his nose thing, so he couldn't smell the gas” Holly had said, before quickly changing the subject.

You had found out later, on a night when Holland had been completely consumed with guilt, drunk, and inconsolable, that he had only had time to get Holly out of the house.

***

Your mouth dropped open, hearing him tearfully recount that night that lived so vividly in his mind; you sat with him on the dingy bathroom floor as he sobbed, his body fighting the urge to throw up a second time as sobs echoed against the walls around you, his entire form shaking with grief.

You held him against your chest, rocking gently as he spoke.

“She yelled at me, told me-” his voice catching in his throat as he sniffed “T-told me to get Hol-Holly out”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your own cheeks as he continued.

“She was asleep and I-” he paused taking a breath hiccuping “I carried her outside and someone…someone took her from me. I tried to go back…but, the house it was….the flames were so….”

He trailed off lost in the memory and it was quiet for a long time before he spoke again

“Then it exploded” he said so softly you’d barely heard him “I would have….it should have been me”

****

As time wore on, you learned just how racked with guilt Holland had been, you gathered Holly hadn’t had any idea that he had only fulfilled her mom’s dying wish; for her, Holland just hadn’t learned how to move on, and she had been left to pick up his broken pieces and be the adult, make sure he ate, and slept…or passed out…kept a job. At twelve.

He wore their wedding ring around his neck, even after you had moved in together, you made a point of reassuring him that it was okay, he didn’t have to take it off, you understood.

It had come out on one of these drunken nights, which at first were frequent, and really the only time Holland would really talk to you in his drunken stupor; that he had slept in the tub, filled with water, because he passed out so often with a half finished cigarette that he had been afraid of history repeating itself.

Now, only after many nights of reassurance and many more mornings waking up on your own, only to find him propped up in the porcelain tub, an empty bourbon bottle on the bathroom floor, he slept next to you almost nightly, only having fallen asleep on the couch on occasion after a late night on a case.

It had taken a long time to get here; for all three of you; you hadn’t signed up for a pathetic broken man to fix; who didn’t want to be fixed. A man who would rather numb the emotion and night terrors with bottle after bottle and who chained smoked like no one you had ever seen.

Yet, you found yourself put in his path over and over again for weeks straight and only after what you assumed had to be at least his tenth (you had lost count) attempt at very clumsily asking you out on a date you agreed.

He had told Holly, Healy, and anyone else who would listen that you hadn’t been able to resist his charm; you had never told him, and never would, but truthfully it was out of pity, you felt sorry for this man in front of you who had barely been able to stand on his own two feet, who so obviously craved human contact that you agreed to one date, assuming you would never see him again.

To this day, it had been the strangest date you had been on; it had started off normal enough, you had met him at a bar in the city, not completely surprised that this was his location of choice, it was only after you had found out that Holly had tagged along, much to Holland’s annoyance.

***

“You left your daughter in the trunk?!” You asked, completely shocked as you stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, Holly stood next to you with her arms folded looking irritated with him and untrustworthy of you.

“She was supposed to be a Janet’s” he said gesturing to Holly swaying on his feet, who had just rolled her eyes

“JESSICA’S!” she yelled, her nose almost touching his before she scoffed with disgust

He ignored her, holding his hand out in what you assumed he thought was her general direction “Keys”

Holly held them out and before Holland could reach for them you intercepted taking them from her “Absolutely fucking not”

“I can just drive” she glared at you and your mouth dropped open in shock

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows watching to make sure Holland didn’t stumble into the busy street as he leaned against the front of the car. “You don’t have a license!”

“You’re joking right?” She turned her attention towards you

You shook your head “I am not, you are a child”

She pointed towards Holland “And he’s a fuck up! He drinks, he lies to people and stuff, and people hate you!” She had fully rounded on her heel, hurling her insults at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t say and stuff, just-”

“I hate you!” She had yelled loud enough to turn heads of passer’s by

“Oh, kay” you pressed your lips together ushering her in the backseat “In the car; I’ll drive”

Holland had gotten himself in the passenger seat, only after somehow managing to nearly slam his fingers in the door first.

The ride back had been quiet, Holland had laid back in the seat and you thought for sure he would pass out; Holly sat behind him in back seemingly completely unfazed by the exchange that had happened on the sidewalk. You assumed that hadn’t been the first time she had told Holland she hated him.

You had pulled into the driveway of the house and without a word Holly stomped off into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Holland had asked you to stay, and against your better judgment, something in your gut had told you to.

You pitied this man, but something about him made you feel like he hadn’t stumbled (literally) into your path by coincidence.

You sat on the front step of the house, playing with the car keys, looking at your shoes as Holland lit another cigarette.

“She doesn’t actually hate me y’know” he said, dropping his lighter back in his pocket.

You laughed a little “I hope not"

He scrunched his nose shaking his head, plucking his cigarette from between his lips “She’s a kid”

You found it odd he could say something so matter of factly and yet he treated her like someone well beyond her years.

You felt sorry for her too, knowing she probably felt she didn’t have a choice, it was clear that it had been the two of them against the world for a long time. She took care of him because she needed to be cared for, and at the end of the day, he was her dad.

“Hey,” Holland’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head almost colliding with his; he was leaning significantly closer than he had been a minute ago.

Before you could protest, his nose bumped against yours; his large, overheated hands cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips pressed firmly against yours, his body leaning forward more and more as he had started to lose his balance.

Before he could topple over on you completely, you pushed him back gently and he looked sheepishly at his lap like he had done something wrong.

“Sorry,” he muttered “I just been thinkin’ about that for a while”

For as drunk as he had been, you were surprised he wasn’t slurring his words. You were a little taken aback by his confession and you felt heat flush your cheeks despite the cool night air.

“You have?” you asked, really looking at him for the first time; studying him.

He was an absolute mess of a man, that much was clear, a drinking problem, questionable parenting tactics, questionable ethics, some serious baggage. He wore his wedding band around his neck, and he had just kissed you, after a disaster of a date, if you could even call it that and yet…

He was handsome, almost to a fault, as disheveled as he was sitting next to you on that step. There was something oddly charming about his wrinkled suit pants, his shoes laid on the sidewalk where he had kicked them off, announcing that they were painful and unnecessary and he now sat barefoot. His hair had been windswept and messy, but not unclean. His suit jacket laid next to him on his other side forgotten, his shirt askew, the first couple of buttons undone. His facial features were surprisingly boyish for a man his age, a slender pointed nose and blue eyes that you realized were studying you with an intensity that made you pull your bottom lip against your teeth

He had nodded in response to your question, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink and you immediately found yourself closing the small gap between you, a hand cupping his face, pulling him closer as you kissed him a second time, deeper this time. Your heart fluttered in your chest in a way that you hadn’t felt in too long as his soft lips moved with an expertise even given his current state.

Your lips parted and he accepted your silent invitation, his tongue slipping past your lips hesitantly with a small noise in the back of his throat.

Your body flooded with a deep heat that immediately stopped as the porch light had been flicked on, illuminating the darkness.

Holland had jumped, pulling back but not before biting your lip. You touched a hand to your lips with a small laugh as you looked over your shoulder, Holly standing in the doorway, arms folded with a scowl on her face. Holland looked like a busted teenager and it almost made you laugh out loud.

“You can go now” she sneered and Holland hadn’t really noticed as you both got to your feet

You couldn’t really blame her, she was protecting them, him.

“But you should-” Holland stopped searching his brain for the lost words “You should stay”

You shook your head “I don’t think so” you bent to hand him his jacket and shoes so he didn’t absolutely face plant on the cement.

“Then come back,” he reasoned “Tomorrow”

You sighed running your tongue between your lips “Okay, sure” you shrugged; he was too drunk to remember anyway

“Pinky promise?” He offered a pinky and Holly huffed from her place on the step

You had hesitated simply because of her reaction, this obviously was something special between them. You nodded, but didn’t take his pinky, glancing at Holly whose shoulders had dropped slightly as she relaxed before turning back to Holland “I promise”

Much to your surprise, Holland did remember, and you had kept your promise and come back the next day, and every day since.

***

“He used to sing”

Holly’s soft spoken words pull you out of your memory from a not so distant past. The book she had been reading sits closed in her lap as she stares out the window lost in thought herself.

“Did he?” you ask, slightly surprised, you didn’t take Holland to be the type.

She nods slowly “And dance too; sometimes he’d sing really bad just to make Mom laugh” she scrunched her nose like Holland did when he was confused about something before she continued “He has this weird thing about sweet potatoes too; he used to eat them all the time, he doesn’t anymore”

You smiled, watching her reminisce but your heart broke for her; she had lost both her parents that night and she had never really grieved either of them.

You pulled yourself up from the couch and walked over, wrapping her in a hug as she sat sideways on the chair; both her arms wrapped around your forearm, pinning it to her chest, chin tucked against it and you rested your chin on top of her head.

You looked up catching a glance from Holland who had made his way from the bedroom; you traded a look as he took his dirty dish into the kitchen. You stood with Holly, quiet, holding her until she let go.

She sniffed quietly, a hand quickly wiping away what you were certain were fresh tears before she picked up the book in her lap, busying herself with the words on the page.

You didn’t say anything, just rubbed her back gently before taking your own dirty dishes into the kitchen where Holland stood just out of view.

Setting the plates on the counter, you wrapped yourself around Holland’s slim frame, burying your face in his chest with a deep sigh, breathing in his scent.

After a minute of silence, you pulled back and his blue eyes searched your face;

��Go dance with your daughter” you spoke quietly and his brow furrowed slightly

“What?”

“Go dance with Holly” you repeated “Like you used to”

You watched the realization wash over his features as he put the pieces together about what he had walked in on a few minutes ago and he shook his head

“I-I can’t”

“Holland,” you kept your voice low as your reached to touch his face, his eyes slipping closed as your fingertips made contact with his cheek, his hands still on your waist “She needs this, she needs her dad; especially now”

A single tear slipped down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb as he opened his eyes with a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t say anything else, just walked around you out into the living room; you turned and watched as he made his way over to the chair where Holly sat, she glanced up from her book as he offered her a hand.

She looked at him slightly confused before he took her hand himself, pulling her to her feet and into the middle of the room, the book forgotten in the chair. She was tall for her age, but not quite tall enough to reach Holland’s shoulders until she stood on the tops of his feet.

After a couple of steps, Holland’s voice floated through the otherwise silent house, humming softly. You watched as Holly’s shoulders started to shake and her head dropped; Holland picked her up under the arms like you would with a small child, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck properly, burying her face in his neck; one of his hands stroking her blonde hair as she cried openly.

You could tell from your spot in the kitchen, he had been crying too. A lump forming in your own throat as you watched the two of them consumed by a moment neither of them thought they would have again; Holland, getting the chance to be the dad he had wanted, the dad he had intended to be for her. Holly, able to be the little girl she should have been before she had to grow up too quickly. His little girl.

Holland had sank to his knees on the carpeted floor, still holding Holly tightly to his chest; both of them letting the grief and loss they had kept bottled between them for so long finally be felt; You leaned back against the kitchen counter, giving them their private moment. Eyes closed as you listened to the heart wrenching sobs coming from the two of them, tears streaming down your own cheeks as you felt for them, grieving yourself for a woman you had never met but had unintentionally become such a huge part of your own life.

Later that night, you laid in the bed you shared with Holland; Holly had asked him to tuck her in and you could hear the soft murmurs of their conversation across the hall before you heard her bedroom door being pulled shut and Holland appeared in the doorway and he looked tired.

You watched him get undressed, pulling the covers back and climbing between the sheets; most nights you snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest, but tonight roles were reversed.

His head lying on your chest, you played with pieces of his dirty blonde hair, his arm draped around your midsection, his wedding band cool against your collarbone as he laid on his side, breathing softly.

He spoke and you almost jumped, startled by the noise “Does it bother you that I don’t-” he hesitated for a beat “That I can’t-.....that I can’t…y’know?”

You frowned trying hard to piece together what he was asking “Can’t what, babe?”

“That I can’t say it” he sighed defeated

Then you understood rubbing his bare arm slowly “No” you shook your head slowly “No, Holland it doesn’t”

He relaxed into your chest as you kissed the top of his head, watching the shadows dance on the wall in the dark.

The house was quiet, Holland’s head heavy on your chest as he breathed steadily.

“God I miss her” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep

You thought about letting him think you had just fallen asleep, but decided against it “Tell me about her?” you asked, your fingers moving slowly through his hair again

A long pause.

“She was beautiful” he whispered “Holly looks just fucking like her”

You stayed quiet as he continued “She named her after me….”

Another pregnant pause as he lost himself in a long forgotten memory.

“And she loved tea”

You nodded “Tea’s good” you smiled

“American’s do it wrong” he shrugged against you “I still don’t fucking know what ‘the English way’ means”

You couldn’t help laughing then

“Don’t know how you can fuck up a cup of tea” he muttered, very obviously drifting off as he spoke.

You had drifted off yourself at some point but woke with a start, the weight of Holland’s head on your chest was gone; you turned over and the bed was empty.

You sighed pulling yourself up out of bed, the sky still dark out the window. You grabbed Holland’s housecoat off the back of the bedroom door, wrapping it around yourself as you tiptoed through the dark house.

You poked your head into Holly’s bedroom and she slept soundly. You assumed Holland had made his way back to his old comforts, but frowned when you found the tub also empty.

“Alright,” you muttered softly to yourself, “Where did you go?”

You answered your own question fairly quickly, finding the dark figure you could only assume was Holland, sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, shoulders hunched, moonlight reflecting off the glass of a mostly empty bottle in his hand resting on the table.

“Holland?” you whispered, not wanting to startle him in the dark.

When he didn’t answer or move you let out a slow breath pressing your lips together in a hard line before you tried again.Your heartbeat thudded in your ears as you spoke, muffling your own voice.

“Holland?” you said again, a little louder

He shifted in his chair then and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank God” you whispered.

Just the way he had shifted so unsteadily in his chair you could tell he was drunk, very drunk.

“You came back” he slurred, getting to his feet, catching himself on the back of the chair as you took a tentative step forward.

“What?” you asked, as he was across the room in a flash, nearly toppling you both to the floor as he drunkenly smashed his lips against yours, his arms wrapping around you with a bruising strength.

He pulled back, taking your face in his hands, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, he had been crying. Hard.

“You came back” he whispered before crushing you against him a second time, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“I didn’t go anywhere” you strained against his chest trying to make the least bit of sense about his drunken ramblings.

“Happy Birthday, Baby” He muttered into your hair and you closed your eyes wrapping your arms around him as it clicked.

You stood in the dark kitchen, silently holding each other for a few minutes before he spoke again, his lips pressed against your ear as he leaned into your shoulder.

“God damn it I miss you”

You could smell the alcohol heavy, but wanted to help him hold on to this memory as long as he needed; or as long as you could.

“Dance with me” you whispered; your hand slipping up the back of his head resting in his hair, the other snaking under his arm hooking around the back of his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. You rocked slowly on your feet, but stayed in one spot for fear that too much movement and Holland would either lose his balance or throw up ... .or both.

He had been too lost in the memory to realize you hadn’t been moving much; your neck and shoulder were wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him gently, rubbing your hand up and down his back

“I can’t do this without you” he slurred “We were supposed to do it together…a team”

“You’re doing just fine” you soothe

“I’m not” he shook his head a little too aggressively, making himself dizzy “I’m a failure”

You lifted his head off your shoulder then, forcing him to look at you; he was far too gone to differentiate the person standing in front of him at this point. You had your hands on either side of his face, his forehead leaning against yours.

“You are not a failure, Holland March, do you hear me?”

He didn’t answer and you patted his cheek gently “Hey, do you understand?” you asked again “You have a beautiful daughter-”

He just scrunched his face shaking his head “She hates me, she thinks I’m a fuck up”

“She doesn’t hate you,” you said softly. "She loves you so much"

You realized if you let it, this conversation was going to keep going in circles.

“Come on,” You wrapped an arm around his waist keeping him upright “We’re going back to bed”

“Gonna give me those twins?” he asked, leaning on you heavily.

You closed your mouth realizing it had dropped open, as you led him down the hallway not sure what to say. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He flopped heavily on the bed and you pulled the blanket up around him before shedding the housecoat and climbing in next to him.

He turned over none too gracefully to face you as you laid on your side, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “You were supposed to give me a hundred babies” His voice was soft

You reached to push his hair off his forehead; the same softness to your own words “I’m sorry”

He just hummed, his eyes slipping closed briefly as his fingers interlaced with yours between you.

You leaned forward, kissing him gently and he hummed again, slipping deeper into sleep.

You closed your own eyes, pushing your free hand through his hair

“I love you” he muttered, barely understandable

You opened your eyes and watched him lying next to you, one hand’s fingers entwined with yours, his other arm lazily draped over your hip, his eyes closed.

“I love you too, Holland” You whispered watching as a smile touched the corner of his lips before he started to snore softly, living blissfully in a world he could only reach in a dream.

[aurianavaloria]

✨Sicut In Cælo Et In Terra - Chapter 4 ✨

SICEIT has been updated! Check out the new chapter here!

“We... weren’t able to verify our destination before the disaster with our ship,” Ned began slowly, “so… can you tell us where we are now, exactly? As in the country?” “Ah, yes!” Taniel inclined his head. “You are in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, my friend. The Holy Land! Ruled by the Christian Franks these past eighty or so years.” He crossed one foot over the other, looking out at his slowly-assembling caravan. “We travel to their capital now. The place where Christ died for our sins, and where He rose again to save us all.” “And who is the king of this land?” Ned inquired, although Tabitha was fairly certain he already knew the answer and was simply probing for confirmation. Or not. “Ah,” Taniel’s head bobbed once, his mien turning solemn. “King Baldwin the Fourth. The man they call the ‘Leper’, for that is the affliction he has been cursed with.” “Some say by God,” Eva added quietly from where she sat above them. “But for what crime, only He knows.” “He is a brave man,” Taniel continued grimly, his lips thinning beneath his mustache, “but he is not long for this world. His days are numbered, and I fear what will happen upon his death.” Ned’s brow furrowed. “The realm is unstable, then?” “Not right now, thank God. Three years ago, he won us a peace with the great Salah ad-Din, to last six years at the least.” Taniel took a breath. “But… kings die, and truces are broken, and I cannot help but fear what will happen when his successor is crowned.” “I see.” Ned nodded slowly in understanding. “I suppose you can’t do anything but hope for the best, then.” “Yes. And pray.” With that, Taniel’s attention was caught by another caravan worker, and Tabitha and Ned took it as their sign to take their leave. Together, they climbed up into the cart Najm drove, although the boy was gone for the moment, the oxen standing idly while an attendant kept them steady. It was then Tabitha noticed the crestfallen look that had overtaken Ned’s countenance, and before she could ask him was wrong, he leaned closer and spoke in a tremulous whisper, “Tabitha, this is insane…” “What is?” “The peace… the peace with Saladin isn’t real!” His eyes were wide as they met hers, darting here and there with barely-suppressed panic. “Not in history! There never was a six-year peace with him under Baldwin’s rule. It only ever existed in the holofilm!” Upon that revelation, Tabitha’s mind spun. “But I thought we’d already ruled out the holofilm as a possibility!” “It’s not!” Ned hissed. “Tabs, I think we’re not just in another time… we’re in another reality.” Her mouth fell open and she sat back, her voice a soft murmur. “An alternate timeline...” As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Enjoy!

[anastpaul]

CHRIST the KING “Therefore, by our Apostolic authority, we appoint the Feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King, annually, on the last Lord’s day in the Month of October that is to say, on the Sunday which immediately precedes the Feast of All Saints, to be observed everywhere in the world. Likewise we enjoin, that the dedication of the human race to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus be annually renewed upon that selfsame day.” From the Encyclical Letter of Pope Pius XI Quas Primas; 11 December 1925 https://anastpaul.com/2018/11/25/25-november-the-solemnity-of-our-lord-jesus-christ-king-of-the-universe/ AND: https://anastpaul.com/2022/10/30/30-october-christ-the-king/

(via CHRIST the KING, PENTECOST XXIII, Dedication of the Basilica of Auxilium Christianorum / Our Lady Help of Christians, built by St John Bosco (1868) and Memorials of the Saints – 27 October – AnaStpaul)

[inspiredbyjesuslove]

[centurieslove]

Arthur barely spoke, which was thankful enough. Merlin didn’t think he could dredge it all up again, lie again, not this early in the morning. He let himself be carried back as his eyes glassed over, reeling silently as he swayed in his saddle. At first, he couldn’t hear Arthur’s voice saying the words, in his mind’s eye - but if he really focused, if he shuttered his surroundings away, he could just see it: the three hooded figures, Arthur in the misted cave, a promise. Each time the image materialised, it brought a sheer warmth that would start to weave itself along his arms, tingling into his veins- only inevitably to fall into his stomach and settle there, heavy and sick. His palms itched with sweat, the leather reins digging into his palms as he attempted to curb the urge to turn his horse around. The inside of his mouth ached where it had been bitten raw.

All too soon, the creamy faraway turrets of Camelot swayed into view above the treetops - and upon spotting them a violent clench of panic dropped onto Merlin’s chest. He kicked his heels quickly, gathering speed and rode up alongside Arthur. The king’s gaze remained on their path ahead.

"Arthur." Merlin started, firmly.

"Merlin.” Arthur returned, just as firmly.

Merlin kicked his horse a little more, definitely not pretending it was a certain blond king.

"Arthur," Merlin grit through his teeth. "Are you sure?"

Arthur’s sigh was just audible over the rough pad of the horses’ hooves on the forest floor.

"Are you telling me you'd rather see a friend die," the King replied, monotone, solemn.

A friend? Merlin had forgotten-

In a other life, maybe.

"No, but-"

"But what, Merlin. For god's sake." Arthur finally turned to look at him.

Excuses were drying quickly on Merlin's tongue. He dropped his gaze to where Arthur’s hands seemed to be holding back the temptation to rip the reins in two. Merlin held back the temptation to shake the king until he fell off his horse.

With an unsteady voice, he tried to push Arthur, asking, you’ll repeal the laws, then? Let magic return to Camelot? What did he want to hear?

"...is that what you really want?" Merlin said, then winced. The pathetic, pleading tone in his words; hopefully it wasn’t discernible. Arthur didn't respond.

A faint murmur of crowd rose from over the castle walls that swayed ever closer. He pushed again, throwing increasingly agitated comments across the space between them, like, how will the people react?, and- you can’t expect them to welcome back magic overnight, and after a while, it’ll be dangerous- you, you have to con-

“I know!” Arthur yelled, suddenly glowing with rage. “You think you know how to run a kingdom?"

Merlin held firm, his eyes burning.

"That’s not what I meant.”

Arthur’s gaze was just as solid, blue meeting blue. The crowd’s murmuring roar was cresting over the walls.

“Don’t let me stop you, Merlin.”

Fury buzzed in head. “You,” he started, “could have at least-”

“What.” Arthur snapped. “Spit it out, christ, it’s like talking to-”

“Don’t cut me off then!”

“You’re- you…”

“What. What! What am I?”

Arthur spluttered, “Impossible. I swear to gods…”

Merlin’s chest heaved. He glanced between the approaching gate and the king next to him. Camelot was breaking into view on their direct path now, forest peeling away into vast yellow fields. Merlin bit his lip.

All of my father’s work -

“Why did you change your mind?” he said finally.

Arthur just stared. A small line was creasing between his brows, and when he spoke, it was after a long moment of his blue eyes bearing into Merlin’s, and his voice was calmer, quieter.

Maybe the old ways -

“Who says I’d changed it?” the king said.

Merlin huffed and turned away.

[scotianostra]

On June 18th 1633 Charles I is crowned King of Scots in Edinburgh.

Wikipedia and other sources tells us that this happened at St Giles and while there was a ceremony there I am inclined to believe the actually crowning was at Holyrood.

All that remained of the abbey was the nave, the remainder of the church having been demolished in 1570, and the structure was now restored for the occasion. Charles had been crowned at Westminster in 1626 but the Scottish Parliament in Edinburgh told him if he wanted to be known as King of Scots he had to be crowned as such in Scotland.

This was the first coronation in Scotland since that of King James VI in 1567, and as with the coronations of King James V and Queen Mary I, had been that of an infant. Not since that of James IV in 1488, at the age of 16, had there been the coronation of near adult, and before that it was that of King James I in 1424 which had last seen an adult ritually receive the Honours of Scotland. Probably for these reasons the King appointed a commission to research the rite, and this is a major source for our knowledge of the Scottish ceremony. Only once since has there been a Scottish coronation - that of King Charles II in 1651. The 1513 and 1543 ceremonies had taken place in the Chapel Royal at Stirling and that of 1567 in the parish church of the Holy Rood there. The abbey of Scone, traditional place of coronations up to 1424, had been destroyed, and for this occasion the ceremonial was located in the remains of Holyrood abbey, which had seen the coronation of King James II in 1437.

For the ceremony the King wore the mantle of King James IV - as with other realms then and now such state vesture can have along life.

The text of the Coronation Oath sworn by Kings of Scots from King James VI onwards was approved by the Scottish Parliament in 1567:

I, N.N., promise faithfully, in the presence of the eternal, my God, that I, enduring the whole Course of my Life, shall serve the same Eternal, my God, to the utmost of my Power, accordingly as he required in his most Holy Word, revealed and contained in the New and Old Testament; and according to the same Word shall maintain the true Religion of Jesus Christ, the preaching of his Holy Word, and due and right administration of his Sacraments, now received and practised within this Realm; and shall abolish and oppose all false Religion contrary to the same; and shall rule the People committed to my Charge, according to the Will and Command of God, revealed in his foresaid Word, and according to the lovable Laws and Constitutions received in this Realm, in no way repugnant to the said Word of the Eternal, my God; and shall procure to my utmost to the Kirk of God and whole Christian people true and perfect Peace in all times coming; the Rights and Rents, with all just privileges of the Crown of Scotland, I shall preserve and keep inviolate, neither shall I transfer nor alienate the same; I shall forbid and repress in all Estates and all Degrees theft, Oppression and all kind of Wrong; in all Judgements, I shall command and procure that Justice and Equity be kept to all creatures without exception, as he be merciful to me and you that is the Lord and Father of all Mercies; and out of all my lands and empire I shall be careful to root out all Heresy and Enemies to the true Worship of God, that shall be convicted by the true Kirk of God of the foresaid Crimes; and these Things above-written I faithfully affirm by my solemn Oath.

A later version was introduced in 1689.

The picture is Portrait of Charles by Gerard van Honthorst, 1628