#Admonition Angel

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Admonition Angel

Artist: Steve Argyle TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$0.62 #steve argyle #admonition angel #zendikar rising commander #creature #angel

[nalyra-dreaming]

I know many people think Lestat woke up when louis geart stopped beating but that wasn’t confirmed right? Cuz how would he know that?

Okay, so...

This is one of those things that is "in-between the lines", where many things between Louis and Lestat are. Lestat tells the reader that they must read between the lines in TVL, so that is something to be kept in mind as intentional.

There are a few things that must be considered here, imho:

In "Blackwood Farm" Lestat tells Quinn that the "angels" took his soul with them:

"They left my body there for my friends to watch over," he explained, and for the first time since I'd seen him, he looked troubled, indecisive, even faintly confused. "But my spirit they took with them," he went on. "And in a realm as palpable as this very room they set me down to do their bidding, always threatening to snatch back this right eye, to take it forever if I didn't do what they bid me to do." [...] "I don't even know which of my bodies was the true one — the body that lay on the floor of the chapel of St. Elizabeth's, or the body that roamed with the so-called angels. I was an unwilling trafficker in knowledge and illusions."

Now... Lestat is at the mercy of these "angels" in spiritual realms for years. Years.

He wakes once from a more dreamlike state (as the unpublished book details) to help Armand and the others hunt down the riff raff in New Orleans.

But that is not the same state he is afterwards, because there he was commenting on what was going on around him... and later in Merrick, David notes that Lestat's soul does not seem to actually be there.

"Once again, I had the distinct impression that his soul was not in his body, not in the way that we believed it to be."

This later state is what Lestat is telling us of in "Blackwood Farm."

Now, David sits down and warns Lestat that Louis will attempt suicide.

Louis sits down to say goodbye to Lestat.

Lestat does not wake from neither plea nor goodbye.

So what does wake him?

It could not have been an outward change, because he was alone at St. Elizabeth's when Louis put himself into his coven in the courtyard of Rue Royale.

It could not have been David, who was also at Rue Royale, nor could it have been Merrick.

The show has picked up on what Louis said about their heartbeats, and elevated it, and I do think it is important.

"[...]the drum was my heart, and the second drum had been his."

Louis notes in the book that even after the turning he hears Lestat's heart:

"His heart I still heard like the beating of a drum."

(For vampires, their hearts also sync up with the heartbeats of their victims when they feed, but then that victim's heart stops, of course.)

In "Prince Lestat" Lestat makes note that he also recognizes vampires by heartbeat, or at least certain ones.

Now, in "Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis", we get to Louis' account of the Merrick event, which is an important aspect of it all. Because he narrows it down:

"But the etheric body, the Amel body, was still in you,” said Fareed. “It had to be or you couldn’t have been revived.” “That’s true,” Louis said. “It was there inside me and it would have remained there until the ashes were scattered. It would have remained suspended, waiting, waiting for how long we don’t know. Remember the old admonition from Magnus, Lestat? Scatter the ashes? Well, no one scattered my ashes and I was brought back—by your blood, and David’s blood, and Merrick’s blood too." [...] “My heart had stopped,” said Louis. “There was no blood pumping in me. All circulation had stopped when my heart stopped. That is how I was dead.”

I was speechless. Then slowly it dawned on me. It came back to me what Kapetria had said...something about the invisible tentacles—or the cord—being the only part of us that was not filled with blood.

And here it all comes together, imho.

The cord. The heartbeat. The heart that stopped.

"We are joined by a cord, a cord you cannot see, but it is real."

Louis and Lestat "share a heart", they hear each other's heartbeat. They are also joined by a cord, not just then when the events in PLotRoA are reached, but also because Louis is Lestat's fledgling, and Amel's "tendrils" reached/were given from Lestat in/to Louis.

When Louis' heart stopped that tendril of the spirit Amel snapped.

Lestat, in the spiritual realm at the time, must have been able to feel it.

When Louis' heartbeat stopped the cord snapped.

And Lestat immediately woke up.

(Since they already introduced the cord... I'm quite sure that will be the same in the show if and when they go there.)

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #we are joined by a cord #amel #the silver cord #heartbeat #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #blackwood farm #prince lestat and the realms of atlantis #prince lestat #merrick #book quotes

[cadmusfly]

Bringing this to a new post because that post was Gettin Long and I wanna respond to @josefavomjaaga

i have an addiction to worldbuilding and if people ask me worldbuilding questions i will just keep going on and on and on sorry

Part 1 of Marshalate Dragons AU Posting

More Marshalate Dragons AU

-

If Bessières cannot be a dragon, could he occasionally be assigned to command Lannes? That should guarantee action. Not necessarily action against the enemy. But action. Bessieres is human most of the time but oh yes, I think they may be forced to work together, especially if Lannes has given Napoleon a lift and Bessieres has to accompany Lannes somewhere else

There's a mysterious white dragon who accompanies Napoleon sometimes, Napoleon calls him Marengo. This dragon appears to be one of those who refuses to talk to anyone except for those they are bonded to. There's rumours that this dragon can instantly appear in faraway places, because sometimes the Emperor just... appears. Obviously, the Emperor's other dragon companions are extremely jealous.

-

By the way, would Larrey be some kind of magical veterinarian in this world? Maybe! I feel like some of the infantry marshals should probably remain human now that I've seen how many infantry marshals there are, but Larrey as the Magical Vet is also a very good idea, having to stick an arm down a sick dragon's mouth or put a splint on a wing or something

It's like being a vet but your charges can shittalk you, and since they're doing it telepathically they can keep talking while you're fixing their teeth

-

Masséna could be a dragon, right? He would have to be in about the same age as the Lefebvre one. But a lot more elegant, leaner, also more cautious. And with a huge pile of gold he can hold his naps on.

100000%.

So I had been thinking earlier that part of this AU is linking the avaricious nature of dragons to the looting and plundering that was so endemic to the French army - which, the army felt like they were forced to do in order to break even or even profit from the wars

But I had a brainwave that even "ordinary" dragons in the army enjoy looting because, well, when you feel like you've earned something nice, then you're attached to it, and dragons in this verse need those nice things to lessen their dragon-stupors, so the ones in the army feel almost obligated to loot and plunder!

It's awful and I love this literalising metaphor lol

But yes back to Masséna, he is a medium-to-large beast with feathery wings (he has an eagle and an angel on his coat of arms), one eye shot out in Totally Not A Hunting Incident (Berthier claimed to have accidentally swiped his eye out but. Have you seen how small Berthier the dragon is. And that's not a scratch.)

And he sleeps on a pile of gold.

-

Would it be possible for Soult to keep his aides around?

Oh he absolutely does - as such a big dragon about the size of a house, his claws are too large to manipulate maps and write things down! He needs aides to grumble at so that they can move the map this way and that and write down notes and letters

unfortunately if he wants to dictate any affectionate or familial letters he has to dictate it to them as well

In fact, Soult is actually large enough that multiple people can ride on his back - not as large as the Temeraire dragons, but maybe two or three? So most of the time its his aides on his back, but during big important engagements when Ney has to go up there, there's also one of Soult's aides just. awkwardly there as well.

and they definitely bring him paintings and Louise when needed

-

And the idea of a drowsy Soult wanting to be petted by Louise makes me melt 💘.

"Was it necessary to tire yourself out so much, my dear Soult?" Louise's voice carried both admonition and a lighthearted touch, which was reflected in the way she lightly stroked the dark carmine scales. Echoed the deep voice in her mind, almost sheepishly, No. I had wished to ascertain the enemy's position and did not trust the reports of my scouts. The large golden eye of the dragon, the size of her head, blinked at her, accompanied by a soft low rumble. Were it to anyone else, the dragon would never have admitted it. But to Louise Berg, Soult could never lie. A burst of hot air escaped the dragon's nose in a mighty exhale. Might I request a scratch slightly further down? But only if your hand does not tire, my dear. "You make me work so hard!" But she obliged happily, and the dragon sighed with deep contentment.

-

What do dragons eat, by the way?

Meat! Lots of livestock! They are willing to eat horses. Humans are usually off the table because afaik Christians especially in those days wanted the whole body buried and also people tend to have a thing about that.

But I think they actually eat less than what's expected of a creature their size, because if we treat them as slightly magical slightly folkloric creatures, then they're partially sustained by the presence of their favourite things/their hoard and their favourite people - this can be seen as a bit of a metaphor for draconic greed, too

Maybe they're like snakes in that they eat quite a bit at once and then don't eat for a while?

-

With regards to Murat: Historically, he did hold the office of Grand Admiral of France. In case you need an excuse to turn him into a sea serpent ☺.

he would be

the worst

snek

but i did decide that he wasn't the secret dragon shapeshifter and is a human, partially because im not sure he would be able to shut up about himself being a secret dragon man, even if spilling the secret is dangerous due to some Fairy Tale Bullshit

still, imagine the fanciest sea snek in the fanciest ornaments

he is enjoying designing dragon uniforms though

-

I also feel like Caulaincourt should keep his job as Grand Stable Master - except now there's dragons.

yes.

I mean I think that the dragons being People mean that their quarters are very, very nice, but in a pinch one of the smaller ones can squish into a nice stable too heh

#cadmus rambles #cad talks about worldbuilding #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main #marshalate dragons au #dragons as cavalry au #historical rpf #napoleonic rpf

[beardedmrbean]

A UCLA professor was suspended for not providing special treatment to black students in the light of George Floyd's death. The professor is suing the University of California Los Angeles for more than $19 million over the well-publicized incident that garnered national notoriety.

Gordon Klein – a lecturer of accounting at the Anderson School of Management – made headlines in June 2020 when he refused to give preferential treatment to black students.

As Blaze News previously reported, Klein was asked by a student if black students would be given special accommodations because of George Floyd's death and the subsequent Black Lives Matter protests.

"The student requested a no-harm and shortened final exam, and extended deadlines for final assignments and projects in consideration of black students' well-being in light of nationwide protests against police brutality," the Daily Bruin reported.

Klein responded by writing:

Thanks for your suggestion in your email below that I give black students special treatment, given the tragedy in Minnesota. Do you know the names of the classmates that are black? How can I identify them since we've been having online classes only? Are there any students that may be of mixed parentage, such as half black-half Asian? What do you suggest I do with respect to them? A full concession or just half?

Klein asked the student if "a white student" from Minneapolis "might be possibly even more devastated" by the death of George Floyd.

Klein then quoted Martin Luther King Jr., and asked, "Remember that MLK famously said that people should not be evaluated based on the 'color of their skin.' Do you think that your request would run afoul of MLK's admonition?"

A student took a screenshot of the email conversation, and it quickly circulated online.

UCLA students claimed Klein's email was "backhandedly racist" and that it undermined the Black Lives Matter movement.

The same day as Klein wrote the email, a Change.org petition was launched, and it demanded Klein be "terminated for his extremely insensitive, dismissive, and woefully racist response to his students’ request for empathy and compassion during a time of civil unrest."

The petition — with more than 21,000 signatures — read, "His behavior is not reflective of the equity, respect, and justice that UCLA stands for as an institution."

Two days later, Anderson School Dean Antonio Bernardo announced that Klein was suspended and an investigation was initiated into the "troubling conduct."

"Providing a safe, respectful and equitable environment in which students can effectively learn is fundamental to UCLA’s mission," Bernardo declared. "We share common principles across the university of integrity, excellence, accountability, respect, and service. Conduct that demonstrates a disregard for our core principles, including an abuse of power, is not acceptable."

"I deeply regret the increased pain and anger that our community has experienced at this very difficult time," Bernardo added. "We must and will hold each other to higher standards."

Klein was reinstated less than a month after the incident.

However, Klein alleges that the public backlash had caused irreparable damage.

Klein derives significant income from his expert witness practice.

The College Fix reported, "He has testified, for example, in several high-profile court cases, including Michael Jackson’s wrongful death, Apple’s acquisition of Dr. Dre’s Beats headphones, and the valuation of General Motors’ assets in bankruptcy."

Klein’s attorney – Steve Goldberg – told the College Fix this week, "He was one of the top damages experts in the country who was historically bringing in well over $1 million dollars a year and trending upwards when it happened."

"That practice went to ashes right after he was suspended," said Goldberg, a member of the Markun, Zusman & Compton law firm.

Klein, who continues to teach as a full-time lecturer at UCLA, is suing the university for "well over $19 million in damages."

Klein's lawsuit is scheduled to go to trial on March 4 at the Santa Monica Courthouse.

Klein, who joined the UCLA Anderson School of Management in 1981, first filed a lawsuit against the school in September 2021.

UCLA did not respond to repeated requests for comment by The College Fix.

#nunyas news #notice how the word equality has been dropped #in favour of equity #many such cases

[basicsofislam]

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting & Ramadan 

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting: What are the spiritual benefits of fasting?.Part1

Every human being has a body and a soul.

Both the body and the soul have certain desires and they strive for domination over one another in order to fulfill their desires.

Lustful and carnal desires pertain to the body created from dry clay; in connection with this the Holy Qur’an declares:

“Verily We created man from potter’s clay, from mud molded into shape” [al-Hijr 15:26]

“Just ask their opinion: Are they the more difficult to create, or those (angels, the Heavens, and the Earth) whom We have created. Surely We have created you from sticky clay” [as- Saffat 37:11].

“He created humankind from dry clay like earthen vessels” [ar-Rahman 55:14].

The other aspect of human beings is the soul, which is a reminder of the wisdom in the creation of humanity and which guides them toward good and Godly deeds, helping them to contemplate and admire the spiritual worlds. The soul rejoices and relishes in great pleasures even when the body is crying out for a sip of water or a morsel of food.

Fasting helps human beings to understand the dark and heinous nature of certain deeds and avoid them.

When the dominance of the soul over the body weakens or when the body becomes dominant, then human beings become slaves to their carnal desires. They pay no heed to the intellect or to religious admonitions and spend all their energy trying to quench thirst and hunger for worldly delights. Their only concern is to find new ways of satisfying their carnal desires. They have to invent substances that increase the appetite, that aid digestion, or even act as stimulants.

“Such people are like a donkey or an ox even if they are at the peak of science, culture, and civilization.  They will commute between the dining room and the toilet all their life and will have no time for any principles or for the eternal life. All their faculties will die, except for those pertaining to lust, food, drink, and foolish entertainment.”

No depiction can be more precise or more elegant than that of the Qur’an:

“…as for those who disbelieve, they shall enjoy this world and eat as cattle eat; and the Fire shall be their abode” [Muhammad 47:12].

a. Fasting helps the believer to remember Allah

Every hour, even every second of the daily life of a person who fasts leads to the remembrance of Allah, reunion with the Almighty, and the blessings He has bestowed upon human beings. Fasting brings about this remembrance in two ways: It makes the believers long for eternal blessings by showing them that the worldly favors are transient.

The pleasure that the believers who fast enjoy when they break their fast and thus end a form of suffering also makes them remember Allah and the eternal blessings He has created for them in the Hereafter.

Although those who suffer from hunger and thirst from dawn until sunset apparently feel pain, the favors that await them in the other world soothe their sufferings. Moreover, they find pleasure in contemplating reunion with the Almighty Allah; it is for Him that believers abstain from food, drink, and other corporeal desires.

The Noble Messenger, peace and blessings be upon him, says:

“There are two pleasures for the fasting person, one at the time of breaking their fast, and the other at the time when they will meet their Lord.”

#Allah #god #islam #quran #muslim #revert #revert islam #convert #convert islam #converthelp #revert help #reverthelp #revert help team #help #islam help #salah #dua #prayer #pray #reminder #religion #mohammad #muslimah #hijab #new muslim #new revert #new convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Saturday, March 16, 2024

march 3_march 16

SAINT PIAMOUN OF EGYPT (337)

The holy virgin Piamoun (Πιαμούν) was from Egypt, and she lived during the IV century. Her Life is recorded by Palladius in his Lausiac History.

When the Saint was very young her father died, but her Christian mother raised her with discipline and admonition of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4). When she grew up, she and her mother engaged in works of mercy and compassion. They were not wealthy, but out of their meagre income, they were able to help their poor and weak brethren.

Saint Piamoun would eat a little food in the evening, and at night she kept constant vigil. She also labored at weaving linen, and she was found worthy of the gift of foresight.

One day a certain village in Upper Egypt attacked another village because of a quarrel about sharing the waters of the Nile. They fought so violently that many men were killed. This village then moved stealthily against the Saint's village. Men marched with staves and spears, intending to kill the inhabitants.

An Angel of the Lord appeared to Saint Piamoun and warned her that her village would be attacked by the stronger villagers. Summoning the priests of her church, she said, "Go forth to meet the enemy, for they are coming against you, otherwise you and the village will perish. If you beg them not to attack, then perhaps they will spare the village."

The priests were afraid and told her, "We do not dare to face them, for we know their ferocity and their arrogance. However, if you wish to save the village and your own house, then you go out to meet them."

The holy virgin did not go forth, but instead she went up to her roof and stood all night long in prayer. She made many bows and prayed that God would immobilize the enemy where they stood, three miles from her village. Immediately they became paralyzed and were unable to move from that place. It was revealed to them that it was the prayers of Saint Piamoun which hindered them from moving. Therefore, they sent a message to the villagers that they wished to make peace. They also told them to give thanks to God, for it was the prayers of Saint Piamoun which had prevented them from attacking.

When her mother reposed, the venerable one continued the work of ministering to her suffering brothers and sisters by herself. She visited their homes, comforted them, and strengthened their faith.

When Saint Piamoun was reposed in 337, her village had widespread mourning.

SAINTS ZENON AND ZOILUS

It is unknown when or where Saint Zenon and Saint Zoilus lived, but according to the Byzantine verse Synaxarion, they died while living in the world (Paris. Coislin. 223, from 1301).1

The names of Saint Zenon and Saint Zoilos and a couplet composed for them were included in the Greek Menaion (printed in Venice in 1596) and in the Synaxaristis. When the Greek Synaxaria were translated into Slavonic, their names and the couplet in their honor were included in the various Prologs. From there, they were incorporated into the Great Reading Menaion (Ве­ли­кие Ми­неи Че­тии) for March, and into the modern calendar of the Russian Orthodox Church.

The couplet reads: "Released from this life, Zenon and Zoilus went forth to a better life" (literally "existence").

1 Le fonds Coislin is a collection of Greek manuscripts acquired by Pierre Séguier but named for Henri-Charles de Coislin, its second owner. It is now held in the National Library of France.

ROMANS 14:19-23, 16:25-27

19 Therefore let us pursue the things which make for peace and the things by which one may edify another. 20 Do not destroy the work of God for the sake of food. All things indeed are pure, but it is evil for the man who eats with offense. 21 It is good neither to eat meat nor drink wine nor do anything by which your brother stumbles or is offended or is made weak. 22 Do you have faith? Have it to yourself before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. 23 But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because he does not eat from faith; for whatever is not from faith is sin. 25 Now to Him who is able to establish you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery kept secret since the world began 26 but now made manifest, and by the prophetic Scriptures made known to all nations, according to the commandment of the everlasting God, for obedience to the faith- 27 to God, alone wise, be glory through Jesus Christ forever. Amen.

MATTHEW 6:1-13

1 Take heed that you do not do your charitable deeds before men, to be seen by them. Otherwise you have no reward from your Father in heaven. 2 Therefore, when you do a charitable deed, do not sound a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory from men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward. 3 But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly. 5 And when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites. For they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward. 6 But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly. 7 And when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think that they will be heard for their many words. 8 Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him. 9 In this manner, therefore, pray: Our Father in heaven, Hallowed be Your name. 10 Your kingdom come. Your will be done On earth as it is in heaven. 11 Give us this day our daily bread. 12 And forgive us our debts, As we forgive our debtors. 13 And do not lead us into temptation, But deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #easternorthodoxchurch #originofchristianity #holyscriptures #gospel #bible #wisdom #saints

[sistamajor]

Izuku's gaze traced the delicate transformation, where the once pristine and radiant angel was embraced by shadows, its purity marred by the touch of corruption. As darkness unfurled its wings, a solemn metamorphosis took place before his eyes. Amidst his trepidation, Izuku found himself unwittingly tainting that ethereal form. In the midst of fear's grasp, a single question echoed within him: Could he be the architect of this transformation? Yet, amidst the turmoil, tender admonitions and caresses graced his being, imprinted with a love that was genuine and sincere. A love that bound the angel to a precipice of faltering, a devotion that held it captive in the throes of struggle… A love to a Deku.

#bnha deku #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #otp #boku no hero academia #fanart #bkdk #illustration #demon kacchan #sketch

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 97: Nothing Beside Remains

Table of Contents Third Instar, Chapter 28. Go to previous. CWs for religion, unreality, and delusions.

__________________________

“...Round the decay / Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare / The lone and level sands stretch far away.” -- Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias”

__________________________

“Why are we headed to Sutter Grove, then, Sir?”

Angel followed along behind ‘Choly as the pair walked the Upper Level, from the GCC to the southern end of the Concourse. Unlike the near-abandoned Lower Level, the second story of the Concourse housed many residents. Leases didn’t seem to have opened up shop, like an animal in hiding until the coast was clear… or possibly even an animal lying in wait. He bit at his lip for a ways. Eventually, he replied.

“I can’t leave it alone. Consider it bribery if you have to, but I must get more information out of Haidinger, even if it costs me.”

The Mister Handy wanted to hesitate, but resisted what would put any distance between them.

“But we haven’t anything in the way of funds at present.”

“We still have several brokering chips, by my count.” ‘Choly stopped only long enough to wag a mindful finger at it. “Many things are worthless unless the man in possession of them knows exactly what he has.”

“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Sir.”

“I probably don’t, but let’s have some faith.”

As they stepped into the entryway for Sutter Grove, they passed the miniature replica of Pheasant Lane Mall on display. ‘Choly straightened in his orthotics. His eyes trailed the odd glowing recessed filigrees of Burlington glass which illuminated the hallways. He quashed his nervous, wandering attention, and pulled his eyes from the architecture.

He didn’t need to locate an Atomite to ask after the Sacristan. Haidinger sat with the door open in an office not too far from the entryway. The glowing, ghoulish priest noticed Angel’s metallic scrabbling and rushed to his feet to greet them.

“Ah! You there.” Haidinger’s shoulders locked square. His gloved hands refrained from reaching out, if even simply to gesture in admonition that the robot risked scuffing the floors by crawling out in this manner. “Atom keep you, cousin. How is your robot?”

‘Choly looked to Angel, then back to the Sacristan.

“It’s still going to take time, but Angel is improving. Thank you.”

Haidinger tried to smile.

“And your hand? How is it?”

“That… will take more time than Angel will, but I’m not snagged up, if that’s what you’re asking.” He held up his still-blistered left forearm for emphasis. “I don’t understand why this was your reaction to the situation, but I want to.”

‘Choly produced a holotape from his pocket and took Haidinger’s hands to place it in them. He clasped his hands around Haidinger’s with an apologetic tenderness.

He also tried to smile.

“We got off on the wrong foot, Sacristan.”

His wandering fingers traced Haidinger’s exposed wrists. Haidinger withdrew his hands, gripping the holotape in one hand while gripping that hand with the other, and with a somber but pleased sigh he upturned his hand to read the tape.

“When you said you had a transcript for your experience during the Division Day storm, I believed it to be a physical text. No matter.”

“It’s a duplicate. I brought it to give to you. Transcribed most of it by holotape. If the holotape proves interesting to you, I could be persuaded to share my physical notes as well. You have a way to read this?”

“I have a way, yes. Thank you.” Haidinger squinted at the holotape at length, almost as though he didn’t understand the gesture. “Something bothers you. Do you wish to discuss it?”

“What, the holotape?” A misleading, distracted chuckle slipped out of him. “I don’t know what about it that I would need to discuss. …No, what bothers me might somehow tie back to that tape, but the tape itself isn’t it.”

Haidinger placed a sympathetic hand on ‘Choly’s shoulder.

“We have quiet, open spaces nearby that will afford a bit of privacy. Come, speak with me in my office.”

“It’s true. I have a motive. I…”

Haidinger led them back to where they’d found him. The tart musk of incense crinkled up in ‘Choly’s nose. Contrasting the dark, holographic corridors of the church, countless specimens of Burlington glass adorned every open surface of this space, drawn into all manner of arcane shapes he found at once oddly familiar and unusual. Concentric rings traced seemingly impossible fluorescent sigils. Shocks of fabric and lengths of fiber intermixed with the glowing artisan glass and incorporated dozens of bones of uncertain origin. ‘Choly squirmed inside that some of the larger ones, used to intimate a more organic concentrism, may once have belonged to a whale. He didn’t give his legs the chance to grow unsteady with grief, and sat in one of the available wooden chairs opposite Haidinger’s low, round desk. Angel parked itself directly next to him and curled up its tendrils to occupy as little space as possible. He set one needful hand upon it, and lowered his voice.

“...We're going to give living at Ant Lane another try. Sticks won't tell me why he’s been reluctant, but I know the one thing that eats at me more than anything. Tell me that any unease I feel around that pit is unfounded. I don’t know why it made sense in my head to seek you of all people about it. I’m no Atomite. I’ve never been much for religious sentiment. It’s just a hole.”

Haidinger sat beside him rather than opposite him.

“You came here seeking reason. May Atom provide. You were right to come to me. You mean the sinkhole caused by the tunneling damage, n’est-ce pas? You needn’t worry. The Hall may have blocked funding for further repairs, but the Mayor has provided the Church with increased funds in recent months. Sutter Grove intends to pay for any repairs our Glassworks cannot ourselves provide.”

‘Choly wanted to sit on his hands to keep from wringing them, but handwringing felt like the only appropriate thing to do at the time. He hemmed.

“My unease goes deeper than that. You misunderstand me. The red and green hallucinations. The things people thought they saw right before the storm didn’t necessarily mean anything, but I can’t stop thinking about what I saw.” His gaze raced over every feature of glass and bone it could find, sooner than make direct eye contact. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

‘Choly only trembled more by trying not to, and Haidinger noticed. His brow pitied the chemist.

“Many have described their Burlington visions to me,” he said, grave but kind. “It sounds as though you believe your visions may have caused you unease. Are you comfortable describing to me what you saw? I have the time for you now.”

As ‘Choly spoke, Haidinger turned the holotape over in his hands. He nodded along softly, calculating what response might best help him.

“I’ve done my best to forget about it, but neither the storm nor flood helped with that. I feel this… horrendous dread deep in my gut over it. I saw some distressing green things, but… I had this red one, too, standing right over the sinkhole, a few hours before it caved in.” He struggled to join his words with his meaning. “Blood red. There was a… spinning. Rot. So much rot. The Clark girl, the younger one. For some reason, I noted on that tape that she personified something about that hole as hunger. Seeing how the ants dragged all those bodies into it… It sounds absurd now, to speak it, but I can’t shake feeling like the ants were trying to feed us to it.” A brief, desperate display of enamel softened the conviction in his voice and squinted his eyes into slivers. “Of course, I know none of this happened. Only a series of images created by my brain in a magnetic field.”

“Witnessing things out of sequence can distress even the most resolute. Some Burlington shifts embody emotions and energies rather than giving us concrete, literal projections in time. It’s more common with ‘red’ ones, as you put it. That said, the spinning did potentially harken to something literal. Years ago, this place once had what’s called a carousel. A riding amusement from the time before. It was one of the last remaining things the Concourse continued to use as a visitor attraction, even after it swore off all other technology.”

‘Choly leaned toward him. Rigor locked his eyes wide open as he gripped the geometrically carved armrest. He rejected any implication he could in any capacity see the future--not after everything Jared had put him through.

“...Carousel. I know what those are. They have… animals to sit on. Sleighs and carriages sometimes. Lights, and music. And they rotate, but slowly. My vision spun dizzyingly fast. What… what happened to it?”

Haidinger patted the back of his hand with a murmur.

“The winter of 2258 happened. It was the first time in Ant Lane’s history that the barriers lapsed. We had multiple nor’easters that year, after thirteen years without any. At the same time the storms’ resonance did not manage to activate the Granite, some property of the storms seemed to compel the Lane’s denizens to… experience things, behave a particular way. With each storm that season, people further dismantled the carousel. You can still find pieces of it scattered around the property, if you know where to look.”

“How odd. I saw people digging there. In my hallucination. How deep did they actually dig? The tiles in that area were different from the rest of the mall.”[97-1]

Haidinger couldn’t rein in a look like ‘Choly must have grown a second head.

“I’m telling you that your vision was metaphorical. Isn’t that reassuring?”

‘Choly’s mouth hung open as he formed the resolve to insist upon it.

“How deep.”

The sacristan shifted in his chair, and broke eye contact.

“They were trying to breach the barrier. They did not succeed.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” He caught himself raising his voice and his fingers went to his mouth in apology. “Why would they upend an entire amusement ride just so they could dig under it? They could have just broken open the gates, if they only wanted the Granite to activate. And the ground is the least effective side they could’ve picked to expose the Concourse to the storm, too.”

“Many things in Atom’s domain are beyond us to comprehend. You’re correct. At the time, I too presumed the Granite begged for its voice. I’ve dedicated decades of study to this place, not just as its sacristan, but as someone troubled deeply by the things I witnessed the Concourse denizens do that winter. I have not seen even the Fog-Lost be so compelled as they were. The Concourse attempted a lockdown, but many found disturbing means to circumvent it that I still cannot explain. Before Division Day, I worried the Lane would fall into the same obsession. The two winters thankfully had next to nothing in common.”

This was the first ‘Choly was hearing of Haidinger dreading any aspect of the storm.

“Almost nothing isn’t nothing.”

“How to put it. You’re aware we monitor the ants, as a means to predict the weather, yes?”

‘Choly carded the fingers of one hand in the air to jog his memory, and raised a finger.

“Yancy. The Lane’s meteorologist. We’ve met.”

Haidinger nodded briskly. He hadn’t expected a full response.

“Right. It’s the ants, you see. Usually we know of imminent storms whenever the ants go dormant. Both in 2287 and 2258, they were active during the nor’easters. Now, they invaded the Concourse and enacted devastating carnage. Then, they were directly responsible for the barrier’s failure.”

“Maybe the intensity of the storm drove the ants to seek shelter, but it frenzied them. If there’s been multiple times the ants have posed this level of risk, why won’t the Lane just exterminate them?”

“I have heard this sentiment come up a great deal since Division Day. I am reluctant to agree with it. Even if it were so simple as to kill a few insects, they are denizens of this structure as well, and they even cultivate a crucial food source for those who cohabit it. Yancy Mercer is adamant that the Satellites would suffer without the forewarning to take shelter. Atom’s Children thrive and endure just fine all throughout this land no matter the weather, but this is the only settlement between here and the Galleria with any protection from the storms for anyone else. I will tell you in earnest: though I want nothing more than for the Granite’s procession to become manifest, I also know it’s not destined to come to be by the relentless chewing of myriad ants.” The weight of the conversation finally shook a haunted look from the sacristan. “No, that hole cannot remain.”

“It should reassure me more than it does that the Atomites’ leadership is in agreement to keep the Granite ‘Quiet.’ You do agree that we must repair the AEGIS, right, not just the building itself?”

“At any cost,” Haidinger replied, a little too quickly. His eyes narrowed in thought before opening again. “In agreement? You’ve spoken with Fresnel about this, too, then. I take it she could not ease your mind much, either.”

About other things, maybe.

“No, we didn’t share many words. We were both focused on our respective tasks.”

“She’s been busy indeed. You know, I confided in her about your crates. I hear she’s done her best to locate them. I’ve beseeched a handful for the recovery effort as well. Thanks to the mayor’s donations, I’ve been able to afford to pay our cousins and siblings for their labor in this. So far, we’ve found only one crate, but the effort is ongoing.”

“You’ve found a crate--?” He barely withheld a too.

“It’s nothing of use. Several dozen of some kind of board game.” Haidinger knit his hands in his lap and trained his gaze on them. “That many more of a holotape of the same name. I loaded one, and it seems to be some kind of… Oh, how is it called. Video game.”

A smile broadened the corners of ‘Choly’s mouth at the absurdity.

“Jangles’ Big Day. Lockreed’s storage was full of them.” His smile plastered a bit as he turned to glance at the Diorama in the hallway still within view. Somehow, it only served to unnerve him further to have the door open. He couldn’t shake the unease that someone, or something, could be following him. “Of course that was the first crate to resurface. Hopefully, the next dozen won’t be more of the same.”

“Atom abound! Still your tongue.” Haidinger steadied his breathing, and settled back into his chair. “Forgive me, though. The subject has wandered. You came to me to ease your worries. Have you discussed everything with me that you wished to?”

As he turned again to face the sacristan, the plaster smile deliquesced into one of misshapen, dopey clay.

“I kind of regret bringing it up, and welcome a chance to change the subject. Say, the Diorama is where you archive the film and holotapes you come across, right?”

“Once I transcribe your holotape, the tape itself will be stored there, yes.”

“I would love to borrow from that library sometime.”

Haidinger whipped ramrod and wide-eyed.

“The Vault is not a lending library. It is an archive.”

‘Choly shrank, if even mostly mentally. He raised a reluctant finger.

“But… what if it were? Humor me. Did you happen to keep the JBD holotapes?”

Haidinger’s brow furrowed.

“I wasn’t sure what to do with them. The crate is still in the maintenance room where I left it. You wish to borrow… a board game?”

“Not as such. They’re not completely useless. I understand being protective of things you might have only one copy of, if that's the trouble. I can use those JBDs to create duplicates of any analog item in your archive. Then, maybe you would be more inclined to allow a little lending? Backup copies.”

Haidinger’s indignant confusion softened into a certain deference. He rose to encourage ‘Choly to follow him to the Diorama. ‘Choly pushed off from the desk to follow the sacristan. Angel unfurled itself to crawl along nearby.

“You come to Sutter Grove for help, only to offer your own. You would do that? For the Church? And how? These Jangle holotapes, they already contain something.” He lifted the lid for ‘Choly. “What do you believe you stand to gain from this lending? What do you hope to find in here?”

The chemist sighed. He didn’t want to push his luck asking for several, but narrowing his selection to a single holotape daunted him nonetheless. Though the film reels interested him most, owing to his offer, he kept to his holotapes. His eyes repeatedly wandered to the model of the large carousel in the back of the Concourse replica.

“Mm, I offer moreso for you. It is selfishness on my part, though. I used to drown out my anxieties with fiction. All the books, television, movies, and radio I could cram into my day. I'm looking for entertainment, distractions. Have you always enjoyed film, or did you only come to appreciate it after the war made it scarce?”

“I take my curation duties very seriously, but I admit it’s as much a passion as a calling. These stories must have been lovely to experience firsthand in the last world, but they have taken on an entirely new value, through surviving into this one.” Giddiness tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he remained collected. “You love films, and you’re familiar with things such as carousels. Society by large, as it existed before the last known Division… it fascinates you, then, does it not? If it’s so, then we share a passion for history.”

‘Choly brightened a shade when he came across a section of radio dramas, and plucked one out at random.

“Ah! You have copies of Lights Out. Lovely.”[97-2] He eyed the episode’s label–’Murder in the Script Department’--sooner than let himself continue to glare off into the Diorama. “Oh, it’s not so much that I’m fascinated by it, as it is that I experienced it firsthand. You’re probably older than I am, especially accounting for the time I spent unconscious, and you certainly got good looks for it where I became laden with health complications, but… To put it simply, I might not be a ghoul, but because of what Vault-Tec did to me, I’m as old as one.”

Haidinger remained still and silent for some time. ‘Choly gnarled up all over again, having just chastised Angel for disclosing his age freely, only to do so himself, and with indiscernible purpose in having done so at that. He anticipated Angel would have cross words for him later, and he’d have nothing to say for himself. As the glowing ghoul pursed together what remained of his thin, sinewy lips, the chemist hung on his every reticent word.

“In strictest confidence, not all of those as I am are as old as the Division.”

“Verity. I know he only got that way somewhat recently. I understand he’s an unusual case.”

Haidinger could only look again to his upturned hands, at a loss.

“Well, I am myself an unusual case. I don’t remember much from before I stayed my valence at the Lane. For all I know, I could have become a conduit of Atom’s Light the day before I stepped foot here in 2205. I’ve always supposed this gift came at the cost of knowing who I was before it was bestowed upon me.”

‘Choly could only stare. His gaze tried to swerve across Haidinger’s body, but a quiet, raging jealousy locked his attention on his face.

“So for all you know,” he quavered, “you might be just like Verity.”

As Haidinger spoke, regret eroded his composure, and any softness in his tone crumbled to an exigent hush.

“It’s common belief that Atom created all of the Undying Glow during the last Division, and none since. I’ve never corrected anyone on this presumption, since I do not know for certain. I don’t know how my congregation would take the possibility that my existence might prove that Atom continues to create more like me. And oh, would I need Her Grace, were I found wrong in my speculation.”

‘Choly loosed a nervous chuckle.

“Surely, they wouldn’t take it any more poorly than learning just how much copper is in this place.”

Haidinger’s bright eyes slashed with grief, and he clutched at his chest.

“May your tongue consume away in your mouth![97-3] You wouldn’t say such irreverent, callous things so freely if only you understood.” With stony revulsion, he reached into the Diorama for himself, to produce a holotape of his own. He caught himself trying to drag ‘Choly along by the wrist, but still pushed him along by the shoulders back into the office. “I won’t stand for this a moment longer. It’s my duty to demonstrate as best I can how you handle a subject so delicate as filigree glass with the callous abandon as though it were mud.”

‘Choly returned to the chair. He and Angel sustained bated eye contact as Haidinger shut the door and sat on the edge of the desk in front of him.

“You’re not in trouble. And the door isn’t locked, I promise.” Haidinger shoved the holotape at him, sneering with pity. “Your Pip-Boy. Use it to play this.”

“I’m sure I could find time later this evening--"

“--You’ll listen to it now. This one does not leave my possession.” The priest laced his gloved hands in his lap. “My reverence for archiving and constructing Ant Lane’s Chrestomathy[97-4] is second only to my upkeep of the building itself. Understand that what you now have in your hands is neither fiction nor entertainment.”

“Should I be more frightened of the nightmare I described to you, or this holotape?” ‘Choly’s attempt at nervous laughter choked to a halt when he regarded the tape in his hands. A deteriorated printed label still legibly read Taskerlands, B. 08/10/2077. He sucked on his teeth. His lips parted but imparted nothing. Shutting his mouth, he huffed with a thin smile. “You’re trying to scare me. It’s working.”

“You have more context than many. It should prove most educational for you.”

He snapped the recording into the tape deck of his Pip-Boy and clicked it shut, then tuned the audio output to the tape.

People chatted in the distance. A register till’s bell dinged. At places, faint music faded through.

‘Hit an impasse.’ The brusque male Canadian voice sounded so lost. ‘Need to talk it out, make sense of it. The blueprint calls for twenty-nine. Been coming up all but empty-handed. Doubtful that replicas would work. And these need to work.’

‘Choly shifted in his seat.

The man in the recording slid from contemplative distress into a scattered call-to-action.

‘Couldn’t convince Dunwich to part with any. Their contacts were actively unhelpful. Maybe... maybe Bysshe. No margin for error. Got to keep moving on fresh leads. Not that there’ve been any. Last expert went missing. What was the name... Need to be able to verify the authenticity of any deathmask that pops up. Why won’t Norliss[97-5] help anymore?’

A gruff growl came, then a crash. Nearby people began to whisper.

‘Don’t know what to do...! Can’t leave the blueprint incomplete. Running out of time. Have to keep it contained here, at any cost.’ The viscosity of his diction intensified as he pressed the device closer. ‘If you find this holotape, you must ensure the design is in tact and to the letter. It’s the only way.’

‘Mister, Mister Taskerlands,’ stuttered a proper young woman, mustering as much deference as she could. ‘I see you’ve... spent the night here. Again.’ An unnerved laugh escaped her. Under her breath, she murmured something about DeMarco-Boyle’s. ‘That’s the ninth time this month, that I’m aware of. Need I remind you that we don’t permit staff or patrons to sleep on the furniture here. Is there anything we can do for you, Sir?’ Deliberate choice in words could not belie her frustration or disbelief. ‘With how you carry on to yourself into that recorder there, well, Sir... It scares the customers. You’re starting to cost Sutter Grove sales. And costing Sutter Grove costs Pheasant Lane, wouldn’t you say, Sir? You don’t want anyone to think ill of your mall, do you?’

A long pause.

‘It’s cost everything.’

‘Oh, good. You can still communicate. Presumably.’ Despite the possible shift in his behavior, his habits still elicited her jaded ire by this point. ‘He’s not going to budge. The annexation has been taking a serious toll on him, you know.[97-6] Harry, get the security detail for an escort.’

‘But it still won’t be enough, will it?’

The recording ended with a mechanical click. ‘Choly stared at the device on his right arm, bewildered. A chuckle cracked out of him tandem to a bewildered, lyrical affect, but he could neither smile nor laugh.

“What exactly is it that you want me to learn from this? That Taskerlands was even more unstable than I thought? What was he even going on about?”

The moment he had ejected the tape, Haidinger yanked it from him.

“The Great Marbled Taskerlands endured tremendous duress to accomplish all he did in the before last world. What more is there to explain to you than what’s come straight from his mouth? This recording is the closest I’ve ever come to understanding the truth of this place. You heard him: we must preserve this space and design.”

A gaunt wetness lingered in Haidinger’s luminescent chartreuse eyes. ‘Choly scanned for meaning in the ghoul’s features, but found nothing unspoken.

“Or else what?”

“I… I don’t know.” Haidinger’s exasperation crumpled into anxious self-consciousness. He turned away from them, to face the neon sigils on his far wall, and his voice once more became a thin whisper. “One might imagine that what transpired on Division Day this year is all the proof we need that he was right to appoint the Aldermen.”

“Alder-- But none of this is real!” ‘Choly tossed his hands out at him, incredulous and in great deficit of patience. “Don’t you see!? Nothing is real! That’s my whole damn problem, isn’t it!”

The sacristan’s eyes shot wide with shock, and he staggered when he whipped around on his feet to face them again.

“Where did you get such ideas,” he uttered. “Say you didn’t find such lies here. There can be no apostate in this house.”[97-7]

“If I’m alone in having Division Day shatter my sense of reality, I would shoot myself in the foot. This whole thing has been fruitless and meaningless. The red shift, that recording… it all means nothing.”

“And I cannot reassure you otherwise? Or sway you from such... abandon?”

“You’re a priest, not a psychiatrist, and it was my mistake to believe otherwise. I don’t know what I thought you could tell me that could possibly quieten my swirling whalefall nightmare.”

Haidinger sniffed, a shallow, damp click.

“I think... that for the moment, unless there is anything else you must discuss with me, you should leave, Melancholy.” Eventually, Haidinger nodded, mostly to himself. “You should seriously consider joining us for services. Sutter Grove can give you the footing and clarity you desperately need.”

‘Choly patted at the drama holotape in his pants pocket, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I told you I don’t mind making copies for you of anything I take out. I’ll bring back the original and a duplicate before the week’s out.”

Austerity defeated Haidinger’s agitation, and he simply drooped.

“Promise me that, cousin. And promise me our chat remains between us. All of it.”

‘Choly’s internal deflation amounted only to the slight slouch of his shoulders.

“You have my word.”

Haidinger went to his door to reopen it for them. They followed.

“Do not mistake my severity for the absence of compassion. You are deeply troubled, but I do not deny you. Just because I see you out of my office now, does not mean I turn you away for good. As you are, you are unable to truly heed Atom’s truths. If in the future you decide I am trustworthy and authentic enough for your regard, my door is always open to you. It is up to you to put this... Nothingness out of your mind. Only then can you accept Atom’s warmth and light, and only then can your vessel heal and grow from within.”

‘Choly nodded with solemnity, for lack of any better reply.

“Thank you for humoring me in all this, Sacristan. For what it’s worth, it means something that you tried to be of comfort. If you’re not here when I bring the holotapes, I’ll deposit them in the Diorama for you myself. If that’s all right.”

“I’d rather you brought them to me, but I also understand if you don’t wish to invite discussion. Just… don’t take anything from it without first telling me personally that you have it. You may have the rare advantage of technology that can access the contents of the Chrestomathy’s hard copies, but remember well: it is stealing to take without permission.”

“I understand.”

The sacristan’s furrowed in a gracious pity.

“Atom keep you then. Atom find… and keep you. You know where to find me.”

“Thank you for your time, Sacristan,” Angel said.

‘Choly nodded in gratitude. They walked out, but he kept glancing back. Before they even crossed paths with the Diorama again, he saw Haidinger prostrate himself in the far corner of his office, uttering some feverish Keb contrition.

They started back toward Anchor Inn. Once he and Angel got to the Concourse, he stopped and opened up Angel’s storage compartment. He glanced around to ensure no one was nearby to notice, then he deposited the holotape for safekeeping. He hesitated, and pocketed the radio drama instead. He pressed shut the compartment once more.

“Mister Carey,” Angel started, as they resumed walking. ‘Choly flinched, but said nothing, expecting rebuke. “I knew there were some understandable stressors at play as of recent, but I had no idea you were struggling enough to consider seeking religious counsel. You know you can always talk to me, Sir.”

He eventually unclenched.

“This is no spiritual crisis, I assure you. In lieu of an available psychiatrist, I had to settle for a priest. That’s all. Besides, I doubt very much that there’s anything you could tell me that would assuage my nerves regarding that damn sinkhole pit. --I have no clue what I said to set him off like he did.” He wiped the sorry off his face. “...You’re okay with us staying, right?”

“I stayed quiet while you chatted with the Sacristan, but I was there for moral support. I’m worried that you’ve been under such stress, Sir. I must tell you. I used to worry about staying in this Hinter area long-term, but things seem much better now. Ant Lane’s denizens will successfully repair the mall. It will be a safe haven again well before the next storm season. Besides,”  it said with an unconvincing lyric to its audio, “as Haidinger said, they don’t get storms like that here every year.”

“...I think I need this vacation more than Bledsoe.” Weary, he snapped his fingers. “Right now, though, I need some air after the morning we’ve had. Let’s go see how Blue holds up.”

“Understandable! Hopefully, we won’t distract them too much.”

__________________________

[97-1] Tile usage in Pheasant Lane Mall. When the real Pheasant Lane Mall was remodeled into its contemporary design, they kept a certain amount of the original concourse facade in homage, including sections of floor tiling.

[97-2] Arch Oboler’s Lights Out, “Murder in the Script Department.”

[97-2] Quoted scripture from the Crater House terminal entries, cut from the final version of Fallout 4.

[97-4] Chrestomathy. A compilation of texts, which in sum serves a didactic purpose. Most frequently, the texts provide a lens by which to learn a language, but the educational value can be for any subject. Here, the archive Haidinger curates is a series of media which provides documentation and reference for the culture, history, and living language of Ant Lane.

[97-5] The Norliss Tapes. One of the earliest examples of found footage horror, wherein the tale is told through a series of cassette tape recordings of an investigator who went missing during a case with occult involvement. It’s a namesake as ever, not a crossover, though, promise.

[97-6] Canadian Annexation. The US declared ownership of Canada for its oil rights and geographic advantages in 2072, and by 2077, it succeeded in fully annexing its territories. The invasion and occupation came at great cost and duress to Canadian citizens.

[97-7] Nothing. [redacted]

Included as unmarked footnote, wrt the mention of replicas: A major tenet of the “Metro men conspiracy” lay in the fact so many of these bronze deco-esque sculptures keep cropping up deep within the earth across the franchise, sometimes embedded in solid granite. It’s been theorized that, since there are asset variants for both “Metroman” and “Metrowoman” with exposed rebar, but none of the aberrant subterranean sculptures have been of the damaged/incomplete variant, those used as architectural fixtures are in fact replicas… and that the buried heads predate any human civilization, or may even be extraterrestrial in origin. It bears mentioning that multiple buried bronze sculptures appear in mines, most notably the Dunwich Borers near Salem, MA, as though the companies involved sought to excavate the sculpture, making their mining operations secondary.

#fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout #sole survivor #let's have fun in new hampshire #children of atom #the anatomy of melancholy #mister handy #angel #melancholy #haidinger #glowing ghoul #something something cosmic nihilism #third instar

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Admonition Angel

Artist: Steve Argyle TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$0.77 #steve argyle #admonition angel #zendikar rising commander #creature #angel

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (April 27)

On April 27, the Catholic Church honors Saint Zita, a 13th-century Italian woman whose humble and patient service to God has made her a patron saint of maids and other domestic workers.

Born into poverty during the early 1200s, Zita was taught by her mother from an early age to seek God's will in all circumstances.

She had already developed a strong prayer life by the time she was sent to work in the home of the Fatinelli family in Lucca at the age of 12.

Zita's employers lived near a church where she managed – by waking up extremely early in the morning – to attend daily Mass.

She looked upon her work primarily as a means of serving God and kept herself mindful of his presence during long hours of exhausting tasks.

Her presence in the Fatinelli household, however, was inexplicably unwelcome and met with harsh treatment for a number of years.

Zita suffered hostility and abuse from her employers, including fits of rage and beatings.

The young woman faced these trials with patience and inner strength developed through a life of prayer.

In time, the members of the household came to value her service and appreciate the virtues she had acquired through God's grace.

Zita maintained her humility when she was promoted to a position of responsibility within the Fatinelli home.

She continued to view her earthly responsibilities as a service to God and to seek his presence through prayer and fasting.

She also refused to hold a grudge against those who once mistreated her.

Within her new household role, Zita was faithful to Christ's admonition that superiors should conduct themselves as the servants of all.

She was kind to those under her direction and mindful of the poor through frequent almsgiving to the point of personal sacrifice.

Throughout her life, Zita found a source of strength and consolation in the Mass and Holy Communion, which frequently moved her to tears.

Despite her many responsibilities, she frequently set aside time to recall God's presence through contemplative prayer in the course of the day.

One anecdote relates a story of Zita giving her own food or that of her master to the poor.

One morning, Zita left her chore of baking bread to tend to someone in need.

Some of the other servants made sure the Fatinelli family was aware of what happened.

When they went to investigate, they claimed to have found angels in the Fatinelli kitchen baking the bread for her.

After foretelling her own death and spiritually preparing for it, Saint Zita died in Lucca on 27 April 1271.

Many residents regarded her as a saint and began to seek her intercession, to which a large number of miracles were attributed.

Some writers even began referring to the city of Lucca as “Santa Zita” in her honor.

The Fatinelli family, which had once caused St. Zita such extreme suffering, eventually contributed to the cause of her canonization.

The earliest account of her life was found in a manuscript belonging to the family and published in 1688.

The Church's liturgical veneration of St. Zita was introduced in the early 1500s and confirmed by Pope Innocent XII in 1696.

In 1580, her body was exhumed and found to be miraculously incorrupt, but it has since been mummified.

It is venerated today in the Basilica of St. Frediano, where she attended Mass during her life.

#Saint of the Day #Saint Zita

[godhasheardtruthfully]

Purge This Story 16166: A Horror Short by Sam-Amina Matthew-John Bailey

Purge This Story 16166h Rabi Al Thani 1445 / October '23

The following may be a prophecy of Sam-Amina Matthew-John Bailey. Little remains of information concerning her life (which we believe played out in this place sometime around 1444h) save that she was held to be a seer amongst her people & dedicated this (her transfixative work)”—to Ember. Whom I live to see as a mighty king among my people!”. 

This text is delivered as an appendage of songs of Sam-Amina with this warning:

“BEWARE: creative license in play & truthfully we ourselves face evil inclinations. Still. Never doubt when you have lived to see stranger days.” 

Purge This Story 16166h. Psalm1

Annabelle lived 13 years on Earth before becoming impregnated with a whole new world. 

Purge This Story 16166h. Poem 3

“Woe, whoah! Oh woe… That I had died before (I had met this moment.)” 

Four months on as she dips her honey tanned mitts into high tide waters she’ll remember to say

“Praise God I lived to see this momentous day”. 

Annabelle is naked save for clay of the Earth she smears on her body and the remnants of her thick silken cloak which shimmers green in the sun. She is captivated by her baby’s reflection in the pond water. 

Purge This Story 16166. A dirge. 

“Jesus joy of Mans desiring” she plays.

Annabelle’s a gifted cellist who doesn’t see herself as first chair, much less a violinist. Annabelle lacks the charisma she perceives of the violists while reveling in their recklessness.

Besides, Annabelle greatly prefers her private repertoire. The unplayable (sans scorn from others if they could hear). Oh well. Anything is preferable to Annabelle over the piercing pitch that punctuates her skull when the yielding heard of E stringers tune their machines. 

Simmering in the clef with the bassists Annabelle is no choir singer. An ever on Earth orphaned woman. So long as Annabelle remembers her birth parents are no more. The tales she hears shift. Sometimes a boating accident becomes being eaten by a fish. Life goes on. 

She grows up in The Church. On her worst days she screams 

“I swear to God these people! (Are consuming me, as if I myself were the fattest among the cattle calfs being buttered up for a burnt offering or the wafers served beside wine.) 

This was a life lived in vanity. Horsehairs dragged across suspended metals. The soft/steel meeting is lubricated by imported jade rosin. 

Purge This Story 16166. An Admonition (& forgiveness!) 

Young Annabelle is foolish & fears January as if it possesses the might of God Himself. She is correct, however, in her calculation that the death making angels of Allah themselves are roosting upon her threshold. 

All her virgin life on Earth Annabelle never uttered, or even comprehended, her peoples dominant tongue. Most language utterly escaped her. Her every thought of talking vanished.  Sincere attempts to meet the most pleading, violent, or romantic of advances that this woman ‘aught speak given sanity or reason dissolved upon her most strident attempts at application. Precisely like a dream wherein one finds themselves holding on to the memory of screaming in a universe that physically commands its silence. A cruel muscle memory? 

With quiet comes forgetting. Sometimes Annabelle likes this. 

It is no man that inseminates her. No baby which Annabelle begets.   

Purge This Story 16166 Never Speak of This

He Dog arrived about as soon as Annabelle is granted memory. The Smoking Man she perceives in the closet calls out to her with names worse than the like of herself. Words others pick up. 

This causes her to seek otherworldly refuge. She wonders at first if it is not Satan living in the vent just above the top bunk of the twin bed at the first place where she lived on 16th Court - With the last nearest thing to a family she experienced before being brought to this place.

         “No” she succumbs to telling herself. 

“This is He Dog”.

He Dog is minute but menacing. Rich curls of brown fur with red yellow marbled eyes. Two feet and half one inch upright. 

He Dog speaks an ancient dialect Annabelle alone comprehends well and appears to understand the whispers of her heart. 

Annabelle is immediately trained never to mention He Dog by the reactions of those around her when she shares her experiences. 

“It is okay.” She lies to herself. “He Dog understands me”. In this Annabelle is not entirely wrong. 

Purge This Story 16166 So much for my (/boundaries). 

Ballad, The town of Annabelle’s birth, Is built on a peninsula. The boundary between her people and God knows what exists in the beyond is bordered up by a thicket of trees, reeds, marshy waters and marked by a blood stained rock left by the ancestors of the towns inhabitants. Songs & epics passed through the ages of her people all warning against even nearing the shrub gates into the damp woods of the lost.

Annabelle misinterprets He Dogs ability to quietly listen to her as signs she’s found a beneficent friend. All he’s done yet is listen quietly and murmur to her in a dialect so foreign it’s one of the few things she recognizes. 

She takes him on a walk, one of the many rituals he enforces coercively at the face of maintaining his friendship with Annabelle. This may as well be protection to Annabelle. Under duress Annabelle begins to believe she must do this. 

Purge This Story 16166 Busted

Annabelle doesn’t recognize the urgency of her hunger until pale moonlight is hours past being all that’s left of the sun. Moon beams gently punctuate the pitch black canopy of trees above her. It isn’t her sight Annabelle is following, rather He Dog, who appears to have caught scent of something himself. 

Leaves are all that’s slick under her bare calloused feet. If rough skin sheathes the musician from the hot friction of metal cords on their fingertips what are twigs to Annabelles feet? Cuts to her skin when a Psalm is composed of more than just notes inked on paper? 

“He Dog No! Please!”

The blood soaked stone is rendered dimly visible by daybreak. He Dog is arrested by the border stone. Narcissus mugging himself in the pond water couldn’t be more hellishly captivated as He Dog & that boundary rock. There’s something so transfixing about the forbidden, the vain, the deadly. Annabelle must now learn why that is for herself. 

Fatigue escapes to amazement as soon as Annabelle sees, truly realizes what she is perceiving from before her mahogany eyes, the engraved markings which drink up an inheritance of spilt blood. Even dried up viscous remnants of life don’t cover this up: They make the shape of the sounds she hears. Annabelle is beginning to comprehend literacy. 

Docile no more. He Dog reveals all the ravenous might he’s been biding. “YOU MUST DO THIS ANNABELLE” he gruff’s while biting at her hands. “You are going to do this Annabelle. Listen to me. LISTEN TO ME” he bites at her feet. He Dog is growling.

Purge This Story 1666: Re: Genesis. 

It was fast all too much for Annabelle whose tears of grief overcome her ’til her head rest a’slumber on the stone. 

Annabelle dreams of a deliverance. She sees faces gathering around her. Beautiful perfumed ones with gold sashes & Biblically bright pupils. They are different from the people around town, though many townsfolk are there as well. This company is welcoming of her and feeding her grapes, juicy pomegranate seeds, honey buttered slabs of bread. 

They take her home. To the one she remembers. 

Daybreak anew. And her physical condition is worse for 24 hours of ware. He Dog is grumbling.

“Bell… You know you’re going to do as I command you”. 

She understands perfectly what is written on the rock. She’s spent hours cautiously mesmerized by its recitation. It’s lost meaning to her whether or not He Dog comprehends what lays ahead of her if… 

“Annabelle! Annabelle.”

A new voice. Beautifully carried by the damp morning air. She hears a princess, 

“Annabelle I am here with you”

She hears a Queen. 

Annabelle lifts her loosely braided crown of yellow hairs from the rock, now damp with her spit, snot, and tears along with the ever stubborn blood. She is realizing this voice progenies from her shadow. What is left of her after the sun cuts her body with its ancient starlight.

It takes seven minutes for light to travel at its namesake speed from the surface of the sun to the face of the Earth. It takes thousands of years for the same light to travel from the core of the Sun to its launching surface. Layers of fusion and convection in viscous plasma temper starlight for such a moment. 

It takes Annabelle like no time at all to at least try to seize that God cursed stone once she comprehends her shadows news:

“Do not be scared any longer. I am here. I am telling you to do this.”

The rock is heavy, sunken and grown over into the crust of the Earth. Annabelle appears weak, vulnerable. But she screams. A guttural primal force gathering howl and she picks up that rock.

Annabelle bares it. She thrusts it behind her from across her breasts. Annabelles lungs expand with mossy oxygen. She hurls herself into the unfathomable. Annabelles eyes are beaming in the face of what is ruinous.

Purge This Story 16166 Four Months Later 

Annabelle is amazed at how well her stitches are healing. How soft He is.

#horror #story #short #fiction #queer #Muslim #Christian #Halal Halloween #God Loving Horror #trans #furrycore #transgender #writing #writers of tumblr #The Church #shadows #Starlight #science #stars #regenesis #Satan #666 #111 #Sam-Amina #Matthew-John #Bailey #scary story #colorado #queen #psalm

[starryeyes2000]

Trust Love One More Time: Chapter 11

Read on AO3 or FFN

Pairing: McCoy x Fem!OC (Cara)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Starfleet offered McCoy an escape and a purpose. He expected this choice precluded a second chance for love. Yet when a journalist embeds with Enterprise’s crew, he is drawn to her and must decide whether to risk his heart again.

This work dives into McCoy’s backstory – bitter divorce and other loss – and its effect on his choices: past, present and future.

Have the courage to trust love one more time and always one more time. – Maya Angelou

Image credit: @ocfanhub

Excerpt: Two Days Later

McCoy raised his head off the desk where it had laid cradled on folded arms and with bleary eyes looked up at the visitor standing in the doorway of his office. Eighteen hours previously a seal had ruptured in engineering quickly spreading toxic gases and burning acids.

Cara raised the tray she carried tilting her head towards it. “A bite to eat. I heard you and your staff had a busy and rough time of it.” She nailed him with a look combining admiration and admonition. “Have I correctly assumed you’ve seen to everyone injured and everyone working for you but not yet to yourself?”

“Time?” he croaked. Weariness prevented uttering additional words.

Continue Reading on AO3 or FFN

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Taglist: @lord-westley @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @ocappreciationtag @bardic-tales @karimac @imaginesfire @themaradaniels

#leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #doctor mccoy #bones mccoy x oc #doctor mccoy x oc #bones x reader #romance #hurt/comfort #spock #jim kirk #star trek:aos #star trek #fanfiction #fanfic #leonard mccoy x oc #star trek tos #star trek: tos #star trek aos #oc fanfiction #ocfanfic #star trek fanfiction #star trek fanfic

[sorenblr]

So the end of the Take Back the City event: Seraph and Kangiten are civil over the fact that both have duties that are irreconcilable. Due to past events with the Three Archangels the protagonist is able to grab the sword and use it to hold back Seraph, who realized they have the Lords blessing. While cursing him for undoing their work, Seraph and the angels simply leave the alternate world since their work can no longer continue. (part 1)

(Part 2) Now that the people are free of the Sword of Admonitions control all the desires that were suppressed start gushing out like crazy. Kangiten is overjoyed at seeing beings filled with desire who can now properly walk the path of enlightenment, though the way it’s worded suggests that unlike past games where Buddhism is purely used on Chaos for aesthetics and East vs West nonsense, Dx2 seems goes Buddhism=Chaos with this event focusing on the self even for enlightenment is selfish.

When you say that their desires start "gushing out like crazy", this just means like, a bunch of horny guys, right? If so then hey, not bad.

#ask #smt #megaten #dx2 #shin megami tensei: liberation dx2 #kangiten #seraph

[dobaara]

hello my angel! 🍇 <33

(also unrelated and sorry if this is a bit of an ignorant question, but you’re studying fashion right? what does one… do when studying fashion? like i know you’ve posted abt organizing photoshoots, do you design the clothes for the models? do you have themes you have to work with? do you do the photography yourself or do you hire someone/is a photographer provided? do you learn abt fashion history? do you have a favourite kind of fabric? a favourite style of fashion?)

hiii hiii chellame!! (brb gonna sob because u called me angel 🥹)

that isn't an ignorant question at all! it's completely fine! I am studying fashion and it depends on what you take under that because fashion is like an umbrella term, under that there's designing, styling, marketing and PR, business, merchandising and soo much more it would take me hours to list everything

now because I'm studying communication and styling under fashion, I dont make the clothes, get them instead, like readymade clothes. I always have themes, a concept note for each shoot and I make a ton of boards related to the theme before moving forward with stuff because they help out a lot! and depending on the work (for ex, when I first started my shoots I was the one who did all the photography but now I can hire a photographer to collaborate with and work with while I can sit back on that and focus on everything else!)

we don't learn just about fashion history, we learn about everything! you can literally ask me about any political, economical and legal factors of the 1970s and 80s in both the US and India that I did for my final project in one of the subjects and I would tell it to yoh even in my sleep, because even those factors are important in the influence of cultures!

ooh I have a lot of favorite fabrics but the one I love and something that I came across during research was this fabric called Mashru that is from the Indian subcontinent, which essentially was a blend of silk and cotton and is one of the earliest forms of "mixed cloth,". In the 12th century A.D., the industry was under the influence of Muslims. While Muslim men were not allowed to wear pure silk due to a religious admonition, a silk-and-cotton blend that they made was allowed. Then during the Mughal period, Mashru was used for the costumes of courtiers and nobles and is presumed to be an Indian innovation!

and my favorite style of fashion definitely has to be rococo fashion! Because it is known for being ✨️ extra ✨️ no joke the first time I saw an illustration of rococo wigs in class I burst out laughing and had to leave class to compose myself. and if you wish to know how that looks like then here you go:-

#i hope ur doing well!! 💕💕 #thanku anon this was such a fun ask! #a nannie #asks

[basicsofislam]

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting: What are the spiritual benefits of fasting?.Part1

Every human being has a body and a soul.

Both the body and the soul have certain desires and they strive for domination over one another in order to fulfill their desires.

Lustful and carnal desires pertain to the body created from dry clay; in connection with this the Holy Qur’an declares:

“Verily We created man from potter’s clay, from mud molded into shape” [al-Hijr 15:26]

“Just ask their opinion: Are they the more difficult to create, or those (angels, the Heavens, and the Earth) whom We have created. Surely We have created you from sticky clay” [as- Saffat 37:11].

“He created humankind from dry clay like earthen vessels” [ar-Rahman 55:14].

The other aspect of human beings is the soul, which is a reminder of the wisdom in the creation of humanity and which guides them toward good and Godly deeds, helping them to contemplate and admire the spiritual worlds. The soul rejoices and relishes in great pleasures even when the body is crying out for a sip of water or a morsel of food.

Fasting helps human beings to understand the dark and heinous nature of certain deeds and avoid them.

When the dominance of the soul over the body weakens or when the body becomes dominant, then human beings become slaves to their carnal desires. They pay no heed to the intellect or to religious admonitions and spend all their energy trying to quench thirst and hunger for worldly delights. Their only concern is to find new ways of satisfying their carnal desires. They have to invent substances that increase the appetite, that aid digestion, or even act as stimulants.

“Such people are like a donkey or an ox even if they are at the peak of science, culture, and civilization. They will commute between the dining room and the toilet all their life and will have no time for any principles or for the eternal life. All their faculties will die, except for those pertaining to lust, food, drink, and foolish entertainment.”

No depiction can be more precise or more elegant than that of the Qur’an:

“…as for those who disbelieve, they shall enjoy this world and eat as cattle eat; and the Fire shall be their abode” [Muhammad 47:12].

a. Fasting helps the believer to remember Allah

Every hour, even every second of the daily life of a person who fasts leads to the remembrance of Allah, reunion with the Almighty, and the blessings He has bestowed upon human beings. Fasting brings about this remembrance in two ways: It makes the believers long for eternal blessings by showing them that the worldly favors are transient.

The pleasure that the believers who fast enjoy when they break their fast and thus end a form of suffering also makes them remember Allah and the eternal blessings He has created for them in the Hereafter.

Although those who suffer from hunger and thirst from dawn until sunset apparently feel pain, the favors that await them in the other world soothe their sufferings. Moreover, they find pleasure in contemplating reunion with the Almighty Allah; it is for Him that believers abstain from food, drink, and other corporeal desires.

The Noble Messenger, peace and blessings be upon him, says:

“There are two pleasures for the fasting person, one at the time of breaking their fast, and the other at the time when they will meet their Lord.”

#Ramadan 2023 #getting ready for ramadan

[of-elves-and-mad-hatters]

"Legend" Don Diego Drabble, Zorro (1957)

Masterlist 

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Warning: Blood and Injury

______________________________

He knows what his father would say, the reprimanding tone in his voice barely masking his worry, You’re not invincible, you know! You could’ve gotten yourself killed. And right now, as Diego clutches one crimson hand against his side to try and stop the bleeding, he thinks it would be a rather pointless admonition. Whatever illusions he may have had about himself have been undoubtedly shattered. 

It was an illusion. One that Diego so carefully crafted. Zorro the bandit, the fox, elusive and only ever arrayed in the black of night. He made him a legend, more phantom than man, and often has Diego heard people speak of him as though he were a supernatural entity. And that wonder, that sense of mystery and invincibility has branded the legend of Zorro as an avenging angel of justice. A warning to those who would terrorize and exploit the innocent. 

Maybe, if he’s truly honest, that illusion has worked a little too well. That even Diego has been deluded by his own spell! And that would be a more amusing thought if he wasn’t dying out here in the wilderness, a legend brought down to humble mortality. 

#don diego de la vega #zorro #disney's zorro #zorro 1957 #fanfiction #drabble #tw: blood #tw: injury