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slvt4lanadelrey · 11 months

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My Secret | Lorraine Day

Warnings: homophobia, talk about God, hate speech, swearing, kissing(?) People justifying homophobia because of their religion.

Once upon a time, you met Lorraine. She was beautiful, with long, flowing hair and eyes that sparkled like the stars above. She was kind and funny, and you couldn't help but fall for her. However, a factor that stopped your devotion towards the brunette was your upbringing, a fatal truth within your long line of family members; your father was a well known preacher, the only religious speaker in your small town of Christians.

You never thought you would fall in love with another girl. You grew up in a conservative household, your father hounding the religious path into you. He taught you that being with someone of the same sex was a sin, and that it was something to be ashamed of. But when you met Lorraine, you couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

Lorraine was different from anyone you had ever met. You admired her from afar, never daring to let anyone know how you felt. She was a crush that festered fast, a bleeding desire that haunted you everyday.

Her doefull eyes would look into yours, smiling kindly upon seeing your entrance. She was a walking dream, moonstruck you were. It was poetic, a connection only written within the stars; Romeo and Juliet could only hope to have the love that was shared within your relationship with Lorraine. She was the lightning to your thunder, a chaotic duo that struck fast without a warning.

Two lost souls fated to meet, fated to fall. She was a drug, a slither of nicotine that you craved within the early hours of day until the late minutes of night. She became your world, way too fast. She was something that you needed, you would question if oxygen was that necessary if you had Lorraine standing near you. Dumb and in love was your bible. You once adored your father, took his words as factl; how could someone who had a heroic figure in your life be so ignorant to how pure your love was towards Lorraine. She may have been a Day, she may have been a woman, but she was the person you loved.

And if loving a woman was a sin, consider yourself the slave to sinning; the worshipper to every bad deed that would come from being so open, so free to love who you want to love.

Throughout the weeks of knowing Lorraine, the small college the both of you somehow managed to attend together she had you swooning at just the smallest of touches, the tiniest of words she'd whisper into your ears as your professor would talk about whatever boring subject he decided was his passion.

During a lesson, a brain numbing speech about how important getting the right angle for a shooting was, Lorraine nudged your arm. You rolled your head to the side, face cupped in your own hand. You looked at her with a questioning glare, wondering what the innocent presenting girl wanted. She passed over a note, nicely tucked into itself. Her handwriting was always so perfect, in any other situation you would be jealous that someone was better than you at something. You unfolded the note, smiling down at it in your hand.

Meet me after your daddy's preach, Friday night. Xoxo- Lorraine.

You smiled to yourself, you blushed at how adorable the girl could be. You flushed at her labelling who wrote it, like you wouldn't know it was her request. She held you without a reply, the request coming off as a demand.

The only god you would worship was Lorraine, whatever she asked of you you'd surely do it in a heartbeat. So, being the dutiful woman you were, you slipped her note into your pocket before the teacher caught on to your note sharing.

After that lesson you would meet in secret, stealing kisses whenever you could. It was thrilling, but also terrifying. You were always afraid of getting caught.

Afraid you may have been, nothing would deteriorate your plans to meet her every Friday night. You would waste your day away in a boiling hot church, listening to your father scream down the mic at how God will save anyone who needs to be saved. Your fingers running over your Sunday's best, mind everywhere but the matter at hand. Your father was boring, the thought of Lorraine wasn't; thinking of her made a scene.

It felt dirty almost, immoral of you to think of such a sin in a place of god. Her smile, the way her lips curved when your name was mentioned, her brown eyes that stared at yours as she whispered sweet things of love in the middle of the night, everything about her held you in choke hold, a tight grasp you didn't have the will to get out of.

"My daughter," the man in front of the mic shouted, sweat beading down his forehead. He stood in the centre, the light shining down on him like he was Jesus himself, he looked over at you pointing with his finger as he smiled.

"My beautiful daughter is living proof of the purity this church will bring. She's an A star student, a devoted Christian with good values, a pure woman that had many qualities to bring to a man." Your heart dropped, his mocking smile fading as your vision went blank. It wasn't a foreign conversation, a recurring nightmare filled situation your father would force on you every evening.

"She is of age to be a good housewife, a loving wife-" Your mother coughed, glaring at her husband through a death glare. The man shrank, nodding his head before coughing too. He carried on his journey filled with speech, ending it with a loud applause.

Lorraine sat beside her own family, smiling into her hand when your father spoke about you being with a man. Your eyes rolled when you cornered you, her eyes darting to your lips when no one was looking.

"Good evening, Y/N." She smiled, the rest of the church goers leaving the building. You were left alone and practically pinned to the wall by Lorraine.

"Hey, rain." You mumbled, gulping down your saliva. She smirked at you, eyes darkening as she neared your frame.

Your hand pressed into her shoulder before she became too bold, laughing awkwardly when she groaned.

"I may sin with you Lorraine, but I ain't gonna kiss you in a place like this." You declared, standing your ground. She tested you, questioning how serious you were truly being.

"Is that so?"

The door flicked open, in walking your father with a wide grin. He clapped his hands together when he saw you, walking over to the both of you; Lorraine instantly went back to the innocent church mouse look.

"Amazing preach Sir, truly had me on the edge of my seat." The girl lied through her teeth, smiling none the wiser towards your father.

"Thank you, Lorraine. Do you mind if I steal my daughter? We have— something to discuss." You cringed, eyes rolling as he wrapped his fingers around your arm tugging you out of the hall.

You didn't hold much obligation, letting the white haired man take you home. He all but threw you at the truck, grumbling about something incoherent to you in the moment.

You huffed out, sitting down on the leather seat. You stared at Lorraine as she walked over to her family's car, entering the vehicle.

"Y/N, dear, won't you listen?" Your mother asked from the front of the car, her head tilted to see you. Your head swiped up, nodding solemnly before listening intently.

Your father groaned, head shaking when he saw two men walking down the street: too close for just friends. You yourself didn't see anything wrong with it, apparently neither did you mother but your father was disgusted by the action.

"It's unnatural, Lauren, pure deviant behaviour. It's a plague, I'm telling you women. They're all acting like it, inhuman creatures that serve the devil." The man preached, funny enough. You rolled your eyes, sinking further into the leather seat below you. Your lip trembled, teeth chewing the piece of gum in your mouth.

"They're just walking, dear, no need to accuse them of such things" the reasonable retort replied by your mother went straight over your father's head. He gripped the steering-wheel tighter, holding on to it for dear life.

He spat out his open windows, fumbling with his hatred words.

When he parked into your driveway he turned his head back at you. He pointed at you, a finger pressing into the air with an accusing glare.

"I'd kill you with my own hands if you ever even think about doing anything like that. Being a harlot is one thing, being a homosexual is another." With that he stormed out of the car, slamming his door when he left. Your mother sighed, pressing her lip-stick to her lips.

"Don't think too much about what he says, doll. He don't know his head from his ass that man, so full of hate." You hummed, too focused on what he said to register whatever was happening in the current moment. Your body lugged through the door, walking immediately to your bedroom.

Dinner be damned, you needed a rest to forget about your life. Each step of the stairs was excruciating, a needle wedging between your toes with each step.

"M'gonna sleep." You called out, shutting your door with a click. Your body leaned into the comforting comforter, sighing heavily before passing out.

Whether it be the unforgiven heat, the scorching sun blazing down on your frame each moment you spent outside: which was most days. Your eyes lolled shut, a silenced snore leaving your parted lips. A sleep enforced labour, forgetting your life entirely.

The thought of Lorraine slipped your mind, the only factor flashing through your mind was forgetting; not creating more drama for yourself and even dragging Lorraine into the hate filled messages your father would unsolicited spew out.

During the time you slept Lorraine waited patiently at the abandoned park you two would always meet in. When the clocks moved, indicating you were an hour late she called it quite. Well sort of. She hurried into her car, driving her way to your house to confront your insult to her: not being able to attend, and purposely not showing up ran through her mind; she wasn't sure which one to believe, so she wanted to find out herself.

Her arm lunged into the air, the little pebble she housed in her open palm flinging until it collided with your window: with a small tap. Your bedroom light was still on, so you weren't asleep yet. However, the longer Lorraine waited: her patience thinning and lip being torn to pieces she was already mad.

By the time you heard the taps, the continuing smacks of the rocks Lorraine was already standing there: hand placed on her hip with a sour face.

"What are you doin' here women!" You yelled from your open window, staring down at the even shorter girl below you. She scoffed, pointing her slender index finger in your direction with a snarl in her tone.

"Don't you talk down to me, Y/N. I god damn waited for you, for the better age of an hour! You didn't show, didn't even send a warning my way that I'd be left standing like a fool." She argued back, positively fuming with you. You chewed on your lip, debating whether to climb down the vines to escalate the situation.

"Speak!"

You didn't say anything, you merely stared with a tired gaze. She huffed to herself, rolling her shirt further up her arm before making her descent up the vines.

Each move made you bite further down onto your bottom lip, almost shaking in your boots: literally.

She landed on her feet, hair frizzy around her shoulder before landing on her collar bone with elegance that made you envy the girl, and somehow love her more.

"Don't you like staring." She commented, smirking at you like a hungry bear ready to pounce at a clueless fish.

"Lorraine, you shouldn't be here. My daddy he's- he's down stairs, you never kn-" she pressed her finger to your lips: shushing you with a harsh glare.

"Shh. He ain't gonna find out, not if you're quiet." The brunette nodded, her fingers trickling down the front of your body: she pushed her fingers through your belt whole, pushing your front to hers.

"Lorraine."

She didn't reply, only pushing her lips to yours in an abrupt kiss, fiercely holding yours to her, forcing her tongue over your bottom lip.

"I- I mean it." Your health heartedly whispered through gritted teeth, holding back a shaken sigh that played on your bruised lips.

"No you don't." She claimed, her eyes filled with lust, hot molten desire pumping through her veins as you stood in front of her with a coy look.

"Don't you want to? Don't you want me, too?" She was eager, enthusiastic to please whatever fantasy that played within your mind.

Your body trembled, pulling Lorraine into you.

Sinning be damned.

If kissing Lorraine would buy you a ticket to hell, considering yourself a first class seater.

Every fascination, craving, whatever devotion you'd be pegged with whilst God was in the business of making you; Every ounce of emotion was poured into the brunette, the brunette with pretty brown eyes that looked like liquid gold within certain lights. The dip in her top lip, the slight curve within the plump. The hours of devoted time God hoaxed within kissing brown freckles on Lorraine's cheeks, nose and lowered forehead.

Everything about the Day's girl had you worshipping a higher ground, had you praying on your knees for just the smallest of glances.

She was the Amen to the prayers you'd whisper within the night, her warming words of devotion and love she'd whisper through compelling kisses, something you'd treat like gospel and hold dear to your heart.

You love God, you love your father, and your family.

But no one, and nothing would ever hold a candle light to Lorraine, especially with her dimpled filled smile.

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #lgbt #jennaortega #wlw #vada cavell #lorraine day #wednesday addams #lorraine day x fem #lorraine day x fem!reader #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem

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sarahsmi13s · 1 year

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I GOTTA KNOW ABOUT PREACHER RHETT, HUSBAND BOB FLOYD AND CHARLIE YOUNG AAAAAAAAH GIMME THEM ALL <33

oh my goodness seb my darling!!! i'm so excited to tell you about these 🥹🥹🤩

strap in my love

baptized by rain

this piece is inspired by this post and my last line post is actually from this piece the summary is essentially angel goes to seek help from rhett about her thoughts towards him and about him while he is also battling his own thoughts about her

an extra little snippet: He felt wrong for how he felt about you. How his pants tightened while he preached when you sat in the front row, hanging onto his every word. How when he talked to your parents, all he could think about was you clutching your Bible to your chest or how your doe eyes looked up at him.

babies on board

the squad meets bob's family. his pregnant wife and his four year old daughter, sydney. at a check up bob and wifey learn they're something new about their baby

a little snippet: “C’mon Sydney, you ready to meet daddy’s friends?” Bob asked, squatting down to rub the girl's shoulders and adjust the sundress she had on over her swimsuit. She nodded and wrapped her arms around Bob’s neck as he picked her up, “Let’s go, Daddy!” Bob laughed at her excitement and laced his fingers with yours and you all went down to the sand.

appartment problems

your apartment building decided to do some renovations and due to non-stop construction keeping you awake, you move into the office until construction stops. but charlie, your boss, doesn't know until he comes in to get something he forgot and finds you on the office couch

a little snippet: Her eyes widened, “Oh my God. You like her!” Charlie played it off, “Of course I do, she’s my assistant. Contrary to popular belief, bosses can like their assistants.” “No, you like-like her. I saw it at breakfast and you’re always talking about her.” Duncan nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got a crush on your assistant. And honestly, it’s painful to watch man.” He shoved his shoulder, “I do not.” “We’ll see.”

these are all in the process of being written and headers being created

i'm very excited to get these out <333

#tag game #wip game #soooo many wip #💌 we just got a letter #💋 this is for you #sebsxphia #preacher!rhett abbott x reader #preacher!rhett abbott #rhett abbott smut #bob floyd x reader #daddy bob #bob floyd x wife!reader #charlie young #charlie young x reader #charlie young x assistant!reader

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koco-coko · 4 months

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Silent Night, Holy Night - Jean x Vincent, Ikemen Vampire Fic

-> Jean and Vincent spend their first Christmas together, starting with Midnight Mass.

Tags/Warnings: Romantic Fluff, Religious (Catholic) Discussions and Themes, Christmas Fic, Mistletoe Kisses

Word Count: 1,523

A/N <--> I wrote this in the span of 3 hours and in a car. These two have taken over my brain please help

I think they might like this: @natimiles @weirdwriter69 @azulashengrottospiano (if anyone wants to be added/taken off the list let me know)

Midnight Mass had ended a few hours ago. A few others stayed behind with Jean, but at this time of night, Jean was the only one left. Maybe a priest or two wandered by, a nun tended to the dusty floor for a few minutes, then all was silent. A priest with electric green eyes stared at him for a while, but retreated into the cathedral halls after enough examination with a deep chuckle.

Jean could stare at the crucifix for hours on end, only interrupted by the need to fiddle with the rosary in his hands. He’d already been through it three times, but a fourth never hurt. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…

The heavy wooden doors creaked open once more, shutting softly seconds later. Jean ignored it, beading through the rosary at a breakneck pace. Then the light and careful steps reached him and there was a soft thump from the old pew when another sat down next to him.

Jean turned to his head, only to find Vincent with him. He smiled softly, though by his tense position, he was a bit nervous about being in such a holy place. Especially considering their relationship.

Jean often wondered the same thing, but he had to repent somehow. Avoiding judgment only showed true guilt, and Jean already had enough of that on his shoulders. He looked Vincent over a few times before he leaned back onto the seat. “Is everything all right?” Jean whispered, glancing back to make sure all were gone. In such a large and empty hall, even murmurs echoed.

“You said you’d be back an hour ago,” Vincent said, scooting a bit closer, “So I came to check on you. Are you alright, sunshine?”

Sunshine? Jean’s heart went aflutter. That name sounded like a hymn for the angels, too pure to be fit for him. “I suppose,” Jean uttered slowly.

It was a strange time for Jean. A time to celebrate the Lord, to enjoy the spoils of life and give to the poor… In the past, Jean would stay in his room most of the time, but he’d make donations to the Church with profits made from his shop. Everything else seemed frivolous to him, and the happiness floating about the air missed him completely. He was unworthy of such joy and peace.

Vincent’s eyes thinned and his smile was pained. “You know, I was a pastor once.”

Jean almost chuckled. It was hard to tell, but Vincent had grown accustomed to the signs. “Truly?” he asked.

Vincent hummed, delighted to tell his story. “Yeah. I was a Christian, and when I was twenty-five I tried to be a preacher for a while,” he said, only to glance away nervously, “I gave up on that pretty quickly. I didn’t even show up to any Bible studies, and I got dismissed soon after.”

“Why’s that?” Jean asked calmly. After being revived, he learned to not be so critical of others and their religious choices. He wasn’t one to judge– love thy neighbor, after all.

“Not sure. I guess I just didn’t feel a connection anymore, and it wouldn’t be right to preach what I don’t believe,” Vincent explained, resting his arms and head on the pew in front of him. “I liked painting better.”

Jean hummed in response and silence fell over them. God had strange ways of guiding his children on the right path. Often cruel, coldhearted, but ultimately for the better. Of course, now Jean had no path to follow, except the one paved by himself and his sins. There was a deep horror in being separated from the great beyond, separated with all normal functions of life…

But with Vincent here, things felt slightly normal. In the stability and mundanity came comfort. In Vincent came the yearning for more light in his life, without any guilt.

“Merry Christmas,” Vincent whispered sleepily. He grinned drowsily. “Yay.”

“Yay?” Jean asked, his eyebrow raised.

“I got to be the first person to say it to you. I’ve been wanting to do that all year,” Vincent said, digging his head into a more comfortable spot in his arms.

Jean didn’t even realize the faint pink blush growing on his cheek, let alone the soft curve of his lips. How light his chest felt when he saw the innocent wants of his lover. His impulses won over him and in a swift motion, he laid his cape over Vincent’s shoulders. He heard the painter sigh happily, his eyes beginning to close as colored light streamed from the stained glass windows.

“Merry Christmas,” Jean replied, before placing a delicate kiss on his temples. He didn’t mind if he had to carry his lover home. It was dark enough that nobody would see the two, and he was strong enough to make it back to the mansion in one piece. The real question was whether a piggyback ride would be more comfortable than bridal style for the sleepy painter.

Suddenly, Vincent groaned. Jean’s face instantly twisted in concern. He placed his hand on Vincent's back lightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

The sleepy painter grumbled in Dutch, before opening tired eyes. A frown on Vincent’s face made Jean’s heart implode on itself. It wasn’t right! Before Jean could speak, Vincent spoke in a language Jean could understand. Mostly. How late was it? How long did Jean force his boyfriend to stay up? Guilt ate Jean while Grogginess consumed Vincent.

“Ik was bijna vergeten…” Vincent started, moving to sit up, only to fail. Instead, his hand raised above Jean’s head.

He only had to catch a glimpse of green and red to know what it was. He’d seen it all around town, but he never knew what it meant. All he knew was that Arthur often carried it with him to the pub during the holidays. “When two people are under a mistletoe, it’s tradition to kiss each other. I was gonna wait until we got home, but I don’t–” Vincent yawned again, “Ik weet niet of ik zo lang op kan blijven…”

The words and accent were lost on Jean, despite how adorable it was to hear his language of origin. He didn’t need to know the words, though. He knew all he needed to. Vincent and himself were under a mistletoe, and tradition was a time honored thing. The stained glass portrait of the Virgin Mary would understand.

Before Vincent could make another move, Jean took it upon himself, as any knight (in shining armor, at least to Vincent) would do. Jean’s hand wrapped around the back of his head, his other tilting the painter’s chin up just slightly and pushed their lips into each other.

Vincent had to push down a grin. Oh, Jean… He was the true angel here. Even now he was making sure Vincent didn’t have to lift a finger, despite the fact he was holding a mistletoe above their heads. His other arm moved on its own, slowly and gently removing Jean’s eyepatch. The soldier shivered when the cold air hit the other half of his face, but no discomfort came from the fact it was revealed. It was Vincent, after all. He found beauty in everything, and it was starting to rub off on Jean.

It was a short kiss, but Vincent could taste the restrained passion on Jean’s lips. He was always shy about receiving affection, but couldn’t help but pour his passionate soul into each and every display of love he gave. Vincent’s heart swelled at the thought.

“I guess, I’ll say it again,” Vincent said, his face flushed, “Merry Christmas.”

Jean giggled softly, barely audible even to Vincent, whose nose was currently touching his. “And to you as well, mon ange. May I ask you a question?”

Vincent put his head back in his crossed arms, though after such a loving kiss, he was much more awake. “Of course, sunshine.”

“Where did you get this?” Jean asked, holding Vincent’s wrist and bringing the painter’s hand into both of their sights. The red and green plant was intertwined within his fingers.

“You’ll laugh when I tell you,” Vincent chuckled. “When I said I was waiting for you to come home, Arthur took it out of his pocket and gave it to me. He said something like: ‘Make sure you give’em a real Christmas miracle…’ or something like that.”

Jean blinked for a moment. Of course it was Arthur, but… Arthur of all people? Never in a million years did he think Arthur would want any hand in Vincent’s romantic affairs.

Well, now that he said that, Arthur absolutely would.

“He gave me a wink, too. I think he was trying to be dirty or something.”

Ah, there it was. Jean sighed.

Vincent then chuckled at Jean’s obvious dismay at Arthur’s actions. “He had good intentions,” he said, a slight pause in-between his words. A yawn came to him once again. Jean watched his lover’s sleepiness with loving eyes. Vincent could only reciprocate for a moment, before sleep came to embrace him. “... But I think I like this ending more.”

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp jean #ikevamp vincent #Ikevamp jean x vincent #Ikevamp vincent x jean #ikevamp fanfic #christmas fic #christmas fluff #jean x vincent #vincent x jean

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brightreminder · 1 month

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CROWLEY=RASPUTIN??!!!

'There was a man in russia long ago' crowley could have been in russia who knows

'His eyes were flaming gold' sounds like someone else we know...

"He could preach the bible like a preacher"- probably in a monotonous bored voice

does crowley go around personally seducing people? nah doesn't seem like the type

and also i dont think crowley would go around chasing mortal girls, like really the guy is an honorable person

so conclusion,

Rasputin was a demon

the demon clearly went too far by lusting and his hunger for power grew...(must have been hastur)

and when they put poison in his wine and after consuming it, he said

"i feel fine"

so really, we need to find a demon with golden eyes and a lust for power(unless that was hasturs old corporation)

#good omens #anthony j crowley #rasputin #boney m #shitpost #shitposting #joke post #silly #random shit #written for shits and giggles really #theory #crack theory #good omens crack #conspiracy theory #conspiracies

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 1 month

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Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Outcome of Lot’s Choice (Genesis 19)

Abraham ended his intercession, and the two angels went on their way. In the evening they reached the gate of Sodom. There they found Lot sitting in his place, ready to show hospitality to strangers. When he saw the heavenly messengers approaching, he arose and greeted them cordially and warmly. He invited them to stop with him in his house as his guests. Lot understood the laws of hospitality and failed not in practicing them. The men at first declined to stay in Lot’s house, saying they would abide in the city square but when they were pressed, they accepted Lot’s invitation and went home with him. Lot then made a feast in their honor.

The coming of the strangers to Lot’s house became known outside, and during the evening the people of the town gathered about the door, apparently in a wild and boisterous mob. This shows the character of the inhabitants of the city, and gives us a hint of the wickedness that prevailed there. Peter speaks of Lot as righteous, and says that he was greatly distressed by all the immorality and wickedness around him ; and that he was distressed by the wickedness he saw and heard day after day.

Lot is a problem. He is spoken of as a righteous man and one that preached righteousness. Yet his preaching seems to have had little power to make the people better. His own life appears to have been blameless, and yet it had no influence on the community. The people were not made better by it. It probably is not hard, however, to account for the ineffectiveness of Lot’s righteousness and his preaching. He revealed the kind of man he was in his treatment of Abraham. He showed his selfishness in taking advantage of Abraham’s generosity, and choosing the richest and best portion of the country for his own, choosing the garden valley and leaving the rugged hills for Abraham.

Lot’s choice revealed his worldliness, as well as his selfishness. The people of the Jordan valley were exceedingly wicked. Lot knew the character of the towns in this garden spot and yet he overlooked this in his desire for the wealth that he could gather there. Not only did he choose the rich valley but he soon pushed his way into the depths of the wickedness, for he took his family into the city of Sodom and became identified with the place, doing business in it, one of the ruling men in the city.

One, to be an effective preacher in an evil community, must keep himself separate from the evil. He must not be a partaker in it. Those who would preach unselfishness must be unselfish. It is evident that Lot was a lover of money, of luxury, of gain. A home may be a blessing and a center of influence in a community but to be so it must be a home of prayer, of love and of all righteousness. There are evidences that the home of Lot was not kept sacred and separate. Its doors were open to the social life of Sodom. Lot’s children made their friends among the Sodom young people. His daughters were married to evil men of the place. It is easy to see that his home had not made itself a power for good in the community. It was not known in the city, as a home of prayer. It was just like the other homes of Sodom!

All this explains the fact that however good a man Lot was in his personal life he had no effectiveness as a preacher of righteousness. He loved the world and lived in the world and for the world and therefore could have no influence upon the men of his community! He showed courage that night when his guests were so insulted by the wicked mob. He went out to plead with them and to try to persuade them to depart. He showed loyal hospitality, and was ready to pay any price to protect his guests. But the people only laughed at him and assaulted him. It would have gone hard with Lot perhaps he would have lost his life had not the angels, his guests, interfered to save him, bringing him inside, shutting the door and smiting the mob with blindness, so that they were powerless to do anything.

The angels then began at once to prepare to get Lot and his family away from the city before its doom would be visited upon it. First, they inquired about his household. “Do you have any other relatives here in the city? Get them out of this place for we will destroy the city completely. The stench of the place has reached the Lord, and he has sent us to destroy it!” The angels wished that all of Lot’s family might be spared from the overthrow which was impending.

It is not enough to secure our own safety; we must also eagerly seek the safety of all who belong to us. Lot hastened out in the darkness of the night and sought the homes of his sons-in-law and, arousing them, told them of the doom that was about to be visited upon the city. “Quick, get out of the city! The Lord is going to destroy it!” “But his sons-in-law thought he was joking!” They only laughed at him. They did not believe his message nor heed his warning. It is sad when a good man has no influence, even upon his own family! Lot had not begun soon enough to have his children trust in him and respect his counsels.

A man rose in a prayer-meeting one evening, when the topic was “Home Religion,” and asked prayers for his sons. In the early days of his home life, he was not a Christian. He did not love God nor honor Him. He never prayed in his home. He lived without God. He indulged in profanity, in bad temper, in strong drink. In that atmosphere, his children were born and spent their childhood. After a good many years the father came under the influence of the Spirit of God, and was saved. His conversion was genuine and thorough. He became a man of faith and prayer. He put away his evil habits and was an earnest follower of his new Master. Then he tried to bring his family to Christ. But his children had learned the ways which he had shown them by his example, and had so long lived in these ways that he could not win them to the new life he had chosen. They only laughed at his pleadings. He came into the prayer-meeting and told the whole story, asking the Christian people to help him.

If we would have our children safe with us in the shelter of Divine love we must begin in their earliest years by teaching them the Divine commandments and by living ourselves near to Christ. When they are out in the world, absorbed in its life it is too late to fly to them in some time of alarm and beg them to come to Christ. Lot had to go away from Sodom and leave his two sons-in-law to perish in its destruction!

At the breaking of the day the angels hastened Lot. “Hurry! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, or you will be swept away in the destruction of the city!” There was no hope now that the city would be saved. Abraham had prayed that if there were ten good people found in it the city would be spared for the sake of the ten. But there were not ten righteous to be found. Yet while the city could not be spared, the good who were in it would be gathered out before the doom fell. It was so also before the flood came the saving of Noah and his family was provided for. It was the same before Jerusalem was destroyed in 70 AD the Christians were led out of the city and found refuge in Pella. So it will be at the end of the world. Not one believer in Christ shall perish in the destruction that shall come upon the wicked. Christ will send His angels and gather out all His own.

It seems strange that Lot lingered when the angels had urged him to flee. Why did he linger? Did he doubt that the destruction of the city was imminent? No! but all Lot’s interests were in Sodom, all the property he had amassed. He was probably very wealthy. If he fled from the city he must leave all this behind him, and his heart clung to it. It is hard for those who love the world and money to part with it. We have an example of this in the story of the young man who came to Jesus asking the way into the kingdom. He was told to give up all that he had, and let it be used to help the poor, and then follow Christ. He longed to make the right choice but he could not, and the last we see of him he is clinging to his money and turning his back on Christ.

The angels had almost to drag Lot and his wife and daughters away from their home and from the city. Angels are gentle and kindly messengers but here was a time when gentleness would have been most unkind. “When Lot still hesitated, the angels seized his hand and the hands of his wife and two daughters and rushed them to safety outside the city, for the Lord was merciful.”

If we understood the meaning of our troubles and chastenings, our disappointments, the blighting of our earthly hopes, the severe things in our lives which so often break into our ease and comfort we would find that many of them are God’s angels, sent to save us from ruin! Even stern treatment is kindness, when it saves us from destruction. Anything, however painful or stern, that tears us away from sinful attachments and brings us into the way of life is a Divine mercy.

When the angels had brought Lot and his wife outside the city they bade them escape for their lives. The terrible storm of fire was about to burst upon the plain. What the exact agency of destruction was, is not known. Josephus, giving the Jewish tradition, ascribes it to lightning. An Assyrian legend also says that a terrible thunderstorm caused the destruction. Others say an earthquake was the cause. The Bible account is very striking and simple. “The Lord rained down fire and burning sulfur from the heavens on Sodom and Gomorrah. He utterly destroyed them, along with the other cities and villages of the plain, eliminating all life people, plants, and animals alike!”

This judgment broke suddenly and the angels had commanded Lot and his wife and daughters to, “Run for your lives! Do not stop anywhere in the plain. And do not look back! Escape to the mountain, or you will die!” They were not even to look behind them, nor were they to stay or slacken their flight anywhere on the Plain. They were not to rest until they had reached the mountain.

This is still the gospel message. We are in danger of God’s judgment and must escape from it if we would live. We must not stay anywhere in all the plain of sin. There is no safe spot, no shelter anywhere, no place where the fires of judgment will not fall. Some people would like to compromise ; they are willing to flee from some sins but not from others. There are some professed Christians who like to stay on the borders of their old life. They are continually asking whether they can do this or that, go here or there and still be Christians. They want to keep just as near to Sodom as possible so as not to be burnt up in Sodom’s destruction. The answer to all such questions is, “Run for your lives! Do not stop anywhere in the plain. And do not look back! Escape to the mountain, or you will die!” Even the borders are unsafe! The only safe place is the mountain, the mountain where Christ’s Cross stands!

Lot ventured to make a request, to ask for a special favor. The mountain seemed far away. The flight to it seemed greater than he could make. So he pointed to a little city that was near at hand, and begged that this might be an asylum for him. It was only a little city, and he pleaded that it might be spared from the doom of all the cities of the Plain, just to be a refuge for him. Lot did not show much faith in God, in making this request for a refuge near at hand. He certainly had not much of that faith which Abraham had, when he left all and went out, not knowing where he went but trusting God to take care of him.

Lot reluctantly left Sodom but he wanted to choose his own refuge. There are a great many who make the same mistake. They want to be Christians but they are not willing to be brave, heroic Christians, cutting loose from all their old life and following Christ to the mountains in heroic ventures of faith. They are afraid to give up a wrong business which pays them well and depend upon the Lord to provide for them. Such timid faith never reaches anything noble in Christian life or character. God may still accept us but we are throwing away our own opportunities of doing a great work, and of attaining a high character. Little faith wins only little blessings .

Lot’s request was granted, the doom upon Zoar annulled, and Lot was allowed to flee there. We should note, however, that God sometimes lets people have their own way, which seems an easier way to them when it is not really best for them. He sometimes answers even unwise prayers and gives us what we crave, though it is not what He would give to us if we had more faith and courage and were able for the harder thing. In this very case, Lot soon found out that he had made a mistake in fleeing to Zoar, and he was glad enough to leave his unsafe refuge and go at last to the mountain to which the angels had bidden him to flee at first. God may sometimes let us have our own way, though it is not the best, until we learn our mistake by our own sad experience.

Lot’s wife ‘looked back’. There had been a specific command, “Do not look back!” The meaning was, that the storm of death would move so swiftly that even a moment’s delay in their flight would imperil their safety. Why Lot’s wife looked back is not explained. Was it curiosity to see the nature of the terrible destruction that she heard roaring behind her? Or was it her dismay as she thought of her beautiful home, with all its wealth of furnishing and decoration, and all her jewels and garments and other possessions which were now being consumed in the great conflagration?

Our Lord’s use of the mistake of Lot’s wife was to teach the peril of desiring to save things out of the world lest in doing so we lose all. “It will be just like this on the day the Son of Man is revealed. On that day no one who is on the roof of his house, with his goods inside, should go down to get them. Likewise, no one in the field should go back for anything. Remember Lot’s wife! Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.”

The inference from our Lord’s use of the incident would seem to be that she was appalled at the thought of leaving and losing all her beloved possessions, and paused in her flight and looked back, with the hope that possibly she might yet run back and snatch some of the ornaments or gems something, at least, from the awful destruction. “But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt!”

We should not miss the lesson which our Lord Himself teaches us from the tragic fate of this woman. We cannot have both worlds ! Lot’s wife could have escaped with her husband and her daughters but she could escape only by resolutely and determinedly leaving everything she had in Sodom. Her love for her possessions, cost her her life.

Just so, there are thousands today, to whom God’s message comes, “Run for your lives! Do not stop anywhere in the plain. And do not look back! Escape to the mountain, or you will die!” They somewhat desire to follow Christ but their love for the world is so intense that they cannot give it up they cannot renounce it. They must decide, however, which they will renounce Christ or the world. They cannot keep both!

In Lot we have an example of one who was almost lost and yet saved. In Lot’s wife we have an example of one who was almost saved and yet lost. She was lost because she loved the world. She looked back, lingering there until it was too late to escape.

There is a picture of an artist sitting on an ocean rock which had been left bare by the retreating waves. There he sat, sketching on his canvas the beautiful scenery sky, earth, and sea all unconscious that the tide had turned and had cut him off from the shore and was rapidly covering the rock on which he sat. The tempest, the waves, the rising sea were forgotten, so absorbed was he in his picture. Even the cries of his friends as they shouted from the shore were unheard.

So men grow absorbed in this world, and perceive not the torrents of judgment onrolling, and hear not the calls of friends warning them of their peril. So they stand until overwhelmed with the waves of destruction!

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mkarchin713 · 3 months

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FGO Prompt: Ra Ra Rasputin

~cacophony of screams andwhat sounds like someone threw a wet cat into an orchestra pit~

Ritsuka: What’s going on here!

Anastasia (confused):…

Ivan (standing protectively next to Anastasia):…

Rasputin (trying to shove a trombone down Mozart throat):…

Mozart: {gurgled trombone noises}

Ritsuka: Anastasia, what is going on?

Anastasia: well Mozart said he found a song I might like and started singing

Ritsuka: okay …

Anastasia: it went “There lived a certain man in Russia long ago~He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow~Most people look at him with terror and with fear~But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear~ He could preach the Bible like a preacher~Full of ecstasy and fire~But he also was the kind of teacher~Women would desire~

Ritsuka:…

Anastasia: then Mozart started singing Ra Ra, when Rasputin ran in and started doing … that.

Ritsuka:….

Rasputin: …

Ivan: …

Mozart: {sad goose sounds}

Ritsuka: carry on then.

#fate grand order #fgo #FGO prompt #anastasia #Rasputin #ivan the terrible #writing prompts #Rasputin by Bony M.

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nerdygaymormon · 4 months

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the video about negotiating the Bible or the other video on essential and non-essential doctrines, it seems very, idk, like you're putting your own prejudices in the scripture and saying that's what it meant to say instead of just going with what it says and following it

I think it helps to remember that what is in the Bible is what people chose to write. They wrote what was important to them, and that includes their prejudices. They certainly wrote some nasty stories about the people from their neighboring nations, almost as if to justify treating them poorly, even warring with them.

So when we read the Bible, it's worth thinking about what are the principles and values being conveyed? Does the writer have a prejudice against the people he's writing about such as the foreigner next door?

I think it's perfectly reasonable to say the overarching and most important lesson of the New Testament is to love other people, including the stranger, the immigrant, the poor, and to treat them well. And also not to let religion get in the way of showing that love. We can use this overarching principle to filter and interpret what else is written in the Bible. Certainly enslaving people would not be compassionate and loving, we think of that as sinful, despite what the Bible may say on the subject.

I could end here, but I have a little thought experiment for you. From what is written in the New Testament, Jesus seems to have had a lot of women followers and chose women to be leaders. Paul even refers to a female apostle and to other women in important leadership roles. Yet none of the books of the New Testament are from a female point of view or detailing their experiences. The patriarchal values of that place and time meant only voices of men were preserved and that includes their views on what is the proper role for women. Do these male voices accurately portray how Jesus valued women? Wouldn't you love to read what a female apostle thought on the matter?

And it's not just what people wrote, but also prejudices come in how we interpret and understand the text. Over the centuries, Mary Magdelene has been portrayed as a saint, a prostitute, Jesus' wife, a preacher. It seems the way men think of women and what their proper role is influenced how they understood and preached about Mary.

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yakultstanreblog · 7 days

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I kid you not I was just sitting in the uni library and before getting up to give up for the day and leave I wrote in my notes app kinda jokingly but kinda not:

“maybe western beliefs are just so wrong maybe no amount of doctor can fix me maybe I am simply cursed lol for I have sinned many times and seek no forgiveness - a new level of insanity or clarity” (Ik my notes are full of weird shit.. I was also studying medical dominance and how westerners have made it seemingly superior to other forms of health practices/understandings such as religious sin etc for context)

AND I WALK OUT OF THE LIBRARY, START WALKING HOME WITH MY SAD MUSIC ON REPEAT, ON THE VERGE OF TEARS FOR NO REASON(bc life rough but im fine), ON THE EDGE OF CAMPUS AND AM FULLY FINDING MYSELF WILLINGLY BEING PREACHED TO BY A CULT about the heavenly mother oh my god they’re getting smarter LIKE SM SMARTER cause I almost believed this was just a hella feminist Christian for a solid 10 minutes help im out of practice I haven’t been approached by a cult member in like 6 months cos I rarely leave the house ANYWAYS luckily for me I have an unhealthy special interest? in the researching of cults and every single step of their indoctrination particularly the correlation of various korean cults indoctrinating australian white women (when I say cults I don’t just mean religious organisation, cos while there is valid argument that all religion could TECHNICALLY be cult-like, I need u to know I respect religion for others and what it is and am aware there are some prominent factors which differentiate normal religious organisation from genuine proper cult) luckily this particular cult wasn’t going to take me to meet its rapist leader in korea like most the other in melb but it does isolate u from ppl u know and force u to “donate” all ur money lmao fail bc im already socially isolated and I have no money LOLOOL anyways usually they ask for ur number but they also have half given up when u tell them u used to be religious and ur not anymore bc ur critical but this time they just gave me their number cos I think they thought I was like fully convinced cos I was stupidly engaging in the discourse with half interest (but only bc I was trying to make sense if what they were telling me was accurate or not from a religious standpoint bc I was raised Catholic) but sneakily she was telling me all about the Hebrew bible and shit with examples of Hebrew text I couldn’t read LOLOL and what I rlly should have said is god is not my mother or father bitch my (ex) god ain’t male or female, my god if existent be a genderless non human spirit referred to as “he” bc we live in a patriarchal society where male pronouns are pretty standard in referring to just about anything in English language ANYWAYS I lowkey love engaging w cult members while some ppl say dangerous I usually detach my interest while talking as further research into their communicative ways but today I was caught so off guard bc at my particular uni there are usually just religious preachers sometimes who have no ill intent and see my gay stickers on my laptop and give up before they even start knowing they are gonna fail but these ppl defs didn’t go to my uni they were just waiting on the outskirts for sad uni students to approach LMAO mission accomplished also they told me im a good listener when I was like zoning out bc I said yes yes yes when they asked me if I was aware of particular religions events and terms lol that was not very convincing bc I was not demonstrating good listening at all ANYWAYS this was a pointless and probably an incomprehensible story that I cbf reading over hope u enjoyed stay safe don’t go getting indoctrinated into a cult

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nikkisheep · 2 years

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You're just like me

Eddie Munson x female!reader

Warnings: talk of religion, reader meets eddie in the woods like chrissy, fluff, talk of reader's dad who left them

Summary: Your brother is the new pastor at the Hawkins Church, meaning you are the new girl. You had heard about the "Hellfire cult" that was doing devil worship. You meet Eddie in the woods alone, you had heard bad things about him and all he heard was you were like everyone else.

Request made by: @my-life-in-quotes

Hawkins is a small town that was really quiet. Not the kind of place that screamed kidnappings and devil worship. The town has one church. My brother is a pastor. Yes, the sister of a pastor. Being the new kid at a new school, a school that had druggies and jocks and just plain jerks, I was not looking forward to it.

Finding a seat in the cafeteria, alone, was not hard. Making a bee line for an empty spot at an empty table, I sat down. I played my walkman that my dad had left behind when he divorced my mom. Ozzy started playing through and I quietly pulled a book from my bag to read.

"Is that the new girl?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, that's Y/n." Dustin said.

"What's so special about her Wheeler?" Eddie asked, placing a pretzel in his mouth.

"Her brother is the new pastor over at Hawkins Church. Pastor Y/l/n?" Mike said.

"Eh, she's like everyone else."

"Eddie, what do you mean?"

"She's probably someone like that Jason bastard. Stuck up and so far up Jesus's ass that she can't see." He spat.

I sat obivious to everything that was just said. Lunch was over and headed to the next class. Passing by some guy with long curls and he bumps into me. Rude.

Class ends and I make a break for the woods. I was supposed to go to church but damn my brother and mom. I didn't want to go. I walked and walked for a long time before I come across a table. I sit down to read again with my walkman. "It" by Stephen King was getting to a really good part when I heard a crack of a twig. I paid no mind to it, maybe it was a deer. The woods was quiet and lonely. No person out here but me. Shaking away fear, I started to read the book. My brother would preach to me later on missing church to read a "devil's book".

Eddie observed you sitting, reading. He looked at you as if you were a mystery because you were. He saw the smile when you got to a good part of the book and he figured he could sneek away.

"I know you're out there," I call. After hearing more snaps of twigs, I put my walkman away.

"Hey, um, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Eddie said.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask.

"I could ask you the very same, Miss Y/l/n."

"How do you know who I am?"

"You're in my history class and your brother is the new pastor. Everyone claims he can "cure" my demons," Eddie laughed.

"Oh, right." I sigh.

"So you didn't answer my question,'' Eddie said.

"You didn't answer mine."

"Okay, I am here to smoke."

"I'm here because I don't want to hear my brother preach one more time," I said, staring into his eyes.

Eddie moves closer the table and sits down.

"Preacher's sister not wanting to be in church?" He was interested.

"Daughter of a preacher and now a preacher's sister."

"Must suck," Eddie grins. He was surprised that you weren't running "CULT LEADER" when you say him.

"It does. I can't listen to my music and I barely have time to read anything other than the Bible. I mean I get it but sometimes I just want to listen to some Ozzy Osbourne," I laugh.

"You-You like Ozzy?"

"Who doesn't?" I laugh again.

"Right?"

Eddie and I talked a while longer. We laughed and shared stories. If it was any other guy, you would have ran but you felt at peace with Eddie. He was cute and sweet. He made you laugh so loud, you were sure your mom heard you.

"It's getting dark and I can't have Pennywise getting me so I have to go," I tell him. I didn't want to leave.

"Pennywise? As in Pennywise from IT?" He asked.

"Yeah, have you heard of him?"

"Oh man I love that book. Definetely one of my favorite."

"Wow, that's so cool."

"You know?" Eddie asked.

"What?" I smiled with my head tilted.

"You are nothing like I thought you would be."

"What did you think I was like?" I ask.

"Snobby, a bastard like Jason-"

"Jason as in Jason from school?"

"Yeah?"

"That's my cousin. Don't worry I am nothing like him even though he isn't a bad guy." I shrug.

"Great," He rolled his eyes.

"I'm kidding. Dude, you should have seen your face," I laugh.

Eddie laughs too.

"I'm glad I was wrong about you."

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah, I found out that the new pastor's sister is just like me. You're just like me, minus the "cult leader" thing that people believe."

"That's you?" I yell-ask.

"Yep, that's me."

"Glad I didn't believe it." I smile.

"Me too. Me too."

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

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haelithra · 7 months

Text

Ok, but hear me out. The song Rasputin by Boney M is basically Terzo's life story.... I have evidence.

"He could preach the Bible like a preacher

Full of ecstasy and fire

But he also was the kind of teacher

Women would desire "

He's the satanic pope..and as we know a bit of a charmer (men? Women? Omega?)

"He ruled the Russian land and never mind the Czar

But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar

In all affairs of state he was the man to please

But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze

For the queen he was no wheeler dealer

Though she'd heard the things he'd done

She believed he was a holy healer

Who would heal her son"

Once again he is the pope, his jobs was to spead the message of the ministry.

The queen here could be seen as sister imperator who wanted Terzo to do his job (the son being the ministry). This section could also be copia codded, but we're not talking about babygirl right now.

"The demands to do something

About this outrageous man

Became louder and louder"

Terzo not completely following what the ministry wants of him.

""This man's just got to go", declared his enemies"

"They put some poison into his wine

Ra ra Rasputin

Russia's greatest love machine

He drank it all and said, "I feel fine""

"Ra ra Rasputin

Lover of the Russian queen

They didn't quit, they wanted his head

Ra ra Rasputin

Russia's greatest love machine

And so they shot him 'til he was dead"

We've all seen THAT show....we all know how he went out. And in the chapters we see them kill Terzo....so....ya know...

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #terzo emeritus #papa terzo #terzo #shitghosting #im sleep deprived

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that-kinda-good-writer · 1 year

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HHH: PROLOGUE

HHH AUTHOR’S NOTE < Previous installment • Next installment > HHH CHAPTER ZERO

Synopsis: Preacher Jamie arrives in town. | Total number of words: 1.1k. | Reading time: 5 minutes.

By no means whatsoever do you have permission to use this story for any utilization. The slightest trace of copyright infringement will not be tolerated. Stealing someone else’s work that they put much time into creating and claiming it as your own is against the law. This is my work, not yours. Please DM me if you believe someone is dubbing my stories as their work and/ or impersonating my account. Thank you.

Navigation key: Y/N: your name, Y/L/N: your last name, Y/M/N: your mother’s name, Y/F/N: your father’s name, E/C: eye color, F/C: favorite color, H/C: hair color, H/L: hair length, S/C: skin color.

**OFFICIALLY PROOFREAD!**

**Please do not transfer or translate my writings anywhere! However, you may Repost, as that would help me out a lot!**

Chapter warnings: accusation of witchcraft, biblical imagery/ references, brief depiction of punishment by whipping/ father threatening to whip daughter; please note that this was the norm of their time but is now considered an unruly practice, brief mention of death by hanging, church culture, Christian/ Satanism dynamics, mentions of the Salem Witch Trials, period-typical discrimination/ harassment against women.

Standard warnings: angst, biblical imagery/ references, brief mention of masturbation, church culture, Christian/ Satanism dynamics, cursing, female anatomy, mentions of death by hanging, mentions of the Salem Witch Trials, mentions of witch hunting, pet names used by Jamie (angel, dove, lamb) talk of lust, young woman/ slightly older man(?)

||☆||☆||☆||

Hawkins, Indiana

April 10th, 1692

“The Devil Has Come To Salem - Witches Are Everywhere.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s the headline of the newspaper, dear. Would you like to see it?”

The low crackle of wood burning in the fireplace took over the room. A middle-aged woman holding the newspaper shifted in the rocking chair near the bassinet where her one-week-old son was sleeping peacefully. She glanced at her husband, who was reading the Bible, and murmured, “Well?”

“I think not of it,” he responded after a long pause. “I try to stray from politics and other villages’ affairs.”

“Y/F/N,” the woman scolded. “How can you say that when articles are being published almost daily of the mass hysteria occurring in Salem as we speak? What if that hysteria comes to Hawkins?”

Outside of the couple’s cabin, thunder rolled in the distance. It had been a gloomy day. Everyone was restricted to their homes because of the weather.

“As you would know, Y/M/N,” Y/F/N said. “You’re not there anymore.”

“My childhood best friend was Elizabeth Proctor. We did everything together. Before I left with my family for Hawkins, we resided in Salem. We left because we thought the teachings of Reverend Parris were too harsh, and sometimes he acted as though he was above the law. When we moved, that was when I was a teenager, and that’s when I met you. You were already leading your ministry and doing a fantastic job. That’s what made me fall in love with you. I’ve been conversing with Elizabeth.

“She says poor old Rebecca Nurse had been found guilty of witchcraft and was jailed. She’s just an old woman! How could she do such a thing at her age? Hysteria can do a lot to the human mind, and we’re seeing it happen right in front of our faces. You should probably preach about it tomorrow.”

“And say what? We should all be scared of the Devil and spur the wrong notion?” Y/F/N questioned.

Y/M/N sighed, her eyes half-lidded. “I’m just simply suggesting what you should teach tomorrow.”

Before Y/F/N could reply, the door opened, and in walked their daughter. Y/M/N was alarmed, her eyes wide. “Y/N? What were you doing outside?! You are supposed to be sleeping!”

The young girl jumped at the noise of her mother and turned, her H/C, H/L flipping to the side. Y/N stuttered, “I, uh, um… I was hanging out with Anthony, Jackson, and Rhoda. We were dancing around a fire singing worship songs you taught me when I was a child.”

“You were what?” Y/F/N stood up while taking off his belt.

Y/N was very familiar with the punishment of whipping by his waistband, so she cowered against the wall in fear. Instantly, she quickly explained, “Father, we weren’t doing anything bad. Singing to the Lord is an important way of expressing our faith in Him. That’s what you said to me many years ago.”

“When you were a toddler, yes,” Y/F/N corrected. Y/N could feel his breath billowing in her face as if she was standing on a beach. She shivered as he continued, “But you are a grown woman, and you must realize that dancing is frowned upon at your age. You should be thankful that I approve of dancing until you come of age, Y/N. However, because you are officially an adult, you are no longer permitted to dance. Is that understood?”

Y/N hung her head, and in a barely audible whisper, she responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Go upstairs, child, and ask God for His forgiveness for the sins you committed tonight.”

She hurriedly scampered to the second floor, tripping over her dress. Y/F/N made sure she went to her bedroom, and after verifying she obeyed him, he went back downstairs to rejoin his wife. Y/M/N gave Y/F/N a disappointed look as he put his belt on again. “You know, I expect better of you. Y/N is trying to live up to your standards, and you degrading her every time she messes up makes me upset. Humans aren’t perfect. She is just trying to figure out who she is and her role in this world, and if that means letting her be a child, then let her. Let God teach and guide her now. You’ve gotten her this far; let her take the reins.”

He exasperated, strolling over to the window in the kitchen. “I suppose in a sense, you’re right. But dancing is a sin, and she needs to be properly trained to be a woman of God. That is my task as her father. When she entered the world, that was the task He gave me.”

“And me,” Y/M/N murmured. She approached her husband and smiled gently, “Be more open-minded, darling. It unlocks a lot of opportunities.”

After kissing him, Y/M/N went over to the bassinet and delicately grasped her baby boy, and ventured upstairs to the bedroom they both shared while the infant slept in her arms. Y/F/N stood by the fire for a long time, pondering and praying. His final thought before drifting to sleep was that the Lord had good intentions for his family.

THE NEXT DAY…

Morning arrived quickly. The Y/L/N household was the first to turn on its lights, for that was the home of the prominent preacher, Preacher Y/F/N. He was already gone and at the church when Y/N and her mother awoke. That was the routine for the family. As Y/N got dressed, she wondered if her friends got in trouble last night as she did. Well, less sparingly than her. Rhoda’s father was strict, so it was likely that she would enter the church with whip marks on her back. Thankfully the dress covered every part of the body so she could conceal it and not be humiliated by her punishment.

Anthony’s parents were sometimes clueless about what their trickster son was up to. Y/N knew he wasn’t a disciplined young adult- he acted like a child. Everyone around town knew that his parents didn’t raise him right. Anthony would get drunk and be passed out in the streets; other days, he was retired to his bed the entire day because of too much alcohol consumption. He was an idiot. It wouldn’t surprise Y/N if he didn’t show up for mass.

“Mama,” Y/N said after she washed her plate. “I’m gonna head to the church.”

“Okay, dear,” Y/M/N replied. “Also, I heard a new preacher is in town to help your father maintain the church while he battles his illness.”

Y/N paused, blinking. She eventually said, “But Father is doing well. I don’t see anything wrong with him.”

“Your father is slowly dying,” Y/M/N whispered. “He just doesn’t show it to you. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Tears brimmed the sides of Y/N’s eyes. Sniffling, she turned away and left the cabin silently. She wanted to figure out the mystery surrounding the new preacher. Who was he, and what did he want?

||☆||☆||☆||

#Duffer Brothers #Hawkins Indiana #Hawkins Lab #Henry Creel #Henry Creel x reader #Jamie Campbell Bower #Jamie Campbell Bower x reader #My writing #Netflix Original Series #Netflix #One #One x reader #Peter Ballard #Peter Ballard x reader #Stranger Things 4 #Vecna #Vecna x reader #Witch Trials #Writers on Tumblr

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

Text

If anyone wants it, for the Aug. 1 Dracula Daily, here’s my attempt at translating Mr. Swales, though it lacks the colour of the original. People who are more familiar with this dialect, let me know if I’ve got anything wrong - there are places where I’m guessing about certain phrases.

Mr Swales: “It’s all nonsense - these ghost stories and legends are only fit for getting children and silly women to make a fuss. They and all of the supposed supernatural omens are all invented by preachers and busybodies and salesmen to scare and scam fools and get folks to do something they don’t otherwise want to. It annoys me! Why, they’re the ones that, not content with priting lies on paper and preaching them in pulpits, carve them on tombstones too! Look all around you [they’re in the graveyard] - all these tombstones are falling over from the weight of the lies written on them. ‘Here lies the body’ or ‘Sacred to the memory’ written on them, but in near half of them there’s no body there, and no one cares about remembering them! It’s all lies! My God, but it’ll be a strange sight on the Day of Judgement when the dead are raised, all trying to drag their tombstones with them to prove how good they were, and some not even able to hold onto them because their hands are so slippery from their bodies lying in the sea all those years.”

Mina: “Oh, Mr. Swales, you can’t be serious. Surely these tombstones are not all wrong?”

Mr Swales: There might be a few that aren’t wrong, except when they make people out to be better than they are; for people will think a little bowl is like the sea, as long as it’s their own. All lies! Now look, you come here as a stranger and see this churchyard. [Mina nods.] And you think that these stones are about people who are buried here, safe and snug? [Mina nods again.] That’s where the lie comes in! Why, there are loads of these that are completely empty! And my God! how could they be otherwise? Look at that one, read it!

Mina: Reads: ‘Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854, age 30.’

Mr. Swales: “Who brought him home to put him here, I wonder! I could name you a dozen whose bodies lie in the Greenland seas up north, or where the currents have carried them. And there are their tombstones around you! You can read the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowrey - I knew his father, lost in the Lively off Greenland in 1820; or Andrew Woodhouse, drowned in the same seas in 1777; or John Paxton, drowned off Cape Farewell a year later; or old John Rawlins, whose grandfather sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in 1850. Do you think all these men will have to make a rush to Whitby when the trumpet sounds at the Judgement Day? I doubt it! I tell you, when they got here there’d be sho much shoving and crowding and jostling that it would be like a fight up on the ice in the old days [when he was a sailor in the far north], when we were trying to hang up our catch of fish by the light of the aurora borealis.”

Mina [paraphrased]: But surely you don’t think people will need to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgement.

Mr. Swales: Well, why else would people have tombstones?

Mina: To please their relatives, I suppose.

Mr Swales: Ha! To please their relatives! Why would it please their relative to have lies written over them, with everyone here knowing they’re lies? Read the lies on that tombstone?” [The seat where they are sitting is on top of this stone - it’s a flat tombstone, not an upright one.]

Lucy: Reads: ‘Sacred to the memory of George Carson, who died, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, on July 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb was erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son. “He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.” [That last line is a Bible quote.]’

Lucy: “Really, Mr. Swales, I don’t see anything funny in that!”

Mr. Swales: “You don’t see anything funny! Ha! But that’s because you don’t know the ‘sorrowing mother’ was a hell-cat that hated him because he was hunchbacked and lame, and he hated her so mich he committed suicide so she couldn’t get the life insurance she bought on him! He blew the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for scaring the crows. It wasn’t for crows then - it brought them to him! That’s how he fell of the rocks. And, as to hopes of a gloripus resurrection, I’ve often heard him say myself that he hoped he’d go to hell, for his mother was so pious she’d be sure to go to heaven, and he dudn’t want to be where she was. Now isn’t that stone a pack of lies? and won’t it make Gabriel laugh when Geordie comes panting up with his tombstone on his hump, and asks it to be taken as evidence [of how good he was]!”

Lucy: “Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite seat, and I cannot leave it; and now I find I mudt go on sitting over the grave of a suicide.

Mr. Swales: “That won’t harm you, my pretty girl; and it may make poor Georgie happy to have such a pretty girl sitting on his lap. I’ve sat here on and off for nearly twenty years, and it’s done me no harm. Don’t worry about the people lying beneath you, or those that don’t lie there either! It’ll be the time to get scared when you see the tombstones run away with and the place all bare! There’s the clock [chiming], and I need to go! Good-bye!”

This isn’t just local colour - there is one thing in this conversation that’s relevant to the plot (in addition to the things other people have mentioned about how it ties into the themes of the book, which I hadn’t thought about before!).

#dracula #dracula daily #mr swales #cw suicide #tw suicide #tw ableism

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