#Saint Hoax

[ordenyprogreso]

🎨 Saint Hoax, Killer Queen, 2018.

[thechurchofsplatterdaysaints]

"Fear" by Alexander Heir

[msclaritea]

N.F.L.’s Rapid Embrace of Gambling Creates Mixed Signals - The New York Times

"Since the Supreme Court struck down, in 2018, a federal law that effectively banned sports betting outside Nevada — a prohibition once backed by the N.F.L.’s commissioner, Roger Goodell — the N.F.L. has embraced the gambling industry. It has forged partnerships reportedly worth nearly $1 billion over five years with sports betting companies, and permitted a sports book to operate inside one of its stadiums. Now it even has a team in Las Vegas, which the league shunned for decades because any affiliation was seen as a threat to the integrity of the game.

Yet the embedding of sports gambling so quickly into the culture of the league has resulted in jarring contradictions. The N.F.L. is pushing to popularize and benefit from sports betting while still guarding against the potential pitfalls that it long condemned. While the league donates money to promote responsible gambling, its broadcasts are peppered with advertisements for sports betting companies. The N.F.L. is part of a growing apparatus that encourages casual fans to regularly place wagers on games, while punishing league employees — most notably players — who might do the same...."

Which celebrity are you planning to use, next?

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

taylor swift lyrics x colors x textiles in art – blue

Tim McGraw – Taylor Swift // Portrait of Marie-Joseph Peyre – Marie-Suzanne Giroust 💙 Tim McGraw – Taylor Swift // Lady in the Boudoir – Gustav Holweg-Glantschnigg 💙 A Place in This World – Taylor Swift // Portrait of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester – Jean-Étienne Liotard 💙 Dear John – Speak Now // Young Woman in a Blue Dress – Jacopo Negretti 💙 State of Grace – Red // Portrait of Mrs. Matthew Tilghman and her Daughter – John Hesselius 💙 Red – Red // An Unknown Man – Joseph Highmore 💙 All Too Well – Red // Portrait of a Man with a Quilted Sleeve – Titian 💙 Everything Has Changed – Red // Portrait of the Marquis de Saint-Paul – Jean-Baptiste Greuze 💙 Starlight – Red // Mrs. Richard Brown – John Hesselius 💙 Run – Red // Judith with the Head of Holofernes – Felice Ficherelli 💙 This Love – 1989 // Fair Rosamund – John William Waterhouse 💙 Delicate – Reputation // Miss Elizabeth Ingram – Joshua Reynolds 💙 Gorgeous – Reputation // Marguerite Hessein, Lady of Rambouillet de la Sablière – workshop of Henri and Charles Beaubrun 💙 Dancing with Our Hands Tied – Reputation // George Albert, Prince of East Frisia – Johann Conrad Eichler

Cruel Summer – Lover // Peter August Friedrich von Koskull – Michael Ludwig Claus 💙 Lover – Lover // Lady Oxenden – Joseph Wright of Derby 💙 Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince – Lover // Portrait of Ivan Ivanovich Betskoi – Alexander Roslin 💙 Paper Rings – Lover // Young Woman in a Blue Dress – Jacopo Negretti 💙 London Boy – Lover // Queen Henrietta Maria with Sir Jeffrey Hudson – Anthony van Dyck 💙 Afterglow – Lover // Portrait of Prince Dmitry Mikhailovich Golitsyn – Fyodor Rokotov 💙 Christmas Tree Farm – Christmas Tree Farm // Portrait of Mary Ruthven, Lady van Dyck – Anthony van Dyck 💙 invisible string – folklore // Two Altar Wings with the Visitation of Mary – unknown artist 💙 invisible string – folklore // Portrait of Madame de Pompadour – François Boucher 💙 peace – folklore // Fair Rosamund – John William Waterhouse 💙 hoax – folklore // Portrait of Charles le Normant du Coudray – Jean-Baptiste Perronneau 💙 coney island – evermore // Portrait of the Marquis de Saint-Paul – Jean-Baptiste Greuze 💙 Carolina – Carolina // Mrs. Daniel Sargent – John Singleton Copley 💙 Bejeweled – Midnights // Elsa Elisabeth Brahe – David Klöcker Ehrenstrahl 💙 The Great War – Midnights // Portrait of Françoise Marie de Bourbon – attributed to François de Troy 💙 Hits Different – Midnights // Mrs. Benjamin Pickman – John Singleton Copley

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

————————

The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

[very-funny-box]

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I'm scared of y'all.......... You all ate the bug designs really quick....

WELLLL HERE'S MORE (same warnings as the last one)

extra silly drawings including hk and bf characters after the ref sheets!!!

Spearmaster as a Dragonfly

Saint as a Luna Moth

Enot/Inv/???/Sofanthiel as a Walker Frother's moth (with INVerted colors)

Levpups as random ass fluffy caterpillars

The iterators as Giant Forest ants

Scavengers/Scroungers as Honeypot Ants!!!!

Extra silly drawings!!

Kabbu, moments away from Sliver attempting to murder him

Hoaxe and Arti almost becoming the bug Chieftain x Arti ship, but Arti quickly shutting down that crackship.

??? informing Saint about their children

Saint being a hater after brutally slaughtering Sliver for attacking team snakemouth, Vi agreeing with them

??? and Ghost/Knight having nothing in their heads but strategies

and tthat is all for now.

...

...

...

wait I still have ONE more post to do after this...

[theoutcastrogue]

Tom of Bedlam

[by Daniel P. Mason, M.D. | American Journal of Psychiatry, Volume 171, Number 12, December 2014]

Illustration of a 17th-century broadside, featuring a malingering beggar, set “to the tune of Tom of Bedlam” (from Euing Ballad number 55)

In Shakespeare’s tragedy King Lear, the King—betrayed by his daughters, bereft of his kingdom—sets off across the heath in a fit of rage. In a forlorn hovel, he encounters a curious character. Half-naked, his face “grimed with filth,” the man introduces himself as

Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished, and imprisoned….

Lear cannot know that Tom, with his wild appetites, hallucinations, and tales of persecution is, in fact, Edgar, son of the Earl of Gloucester. Falsely accused of plotting against his father, Edgar has also fled to the heath, disguised as a “Bedlam beggar.” The conversation that ensues between the two madmen—one feigned, one real— is one of the most dizzying and psychiatrically rich in a play famously brimming with madness in its many forms.

Who then was this “Tom of Bedlam,” featured so prominently on the title page of the first quarto edition of the play? To begin, while Shakespeare may have been Tom’s most famous champion, Tom was not the Bard’s invention. Less a man, than many, Tom was a familiar folkloric “type” well known to 17th-century audiences: a “lunatick” vagabond who claimed to have been released from the notorious London asylum of St. Mary of Bethlehem (Bedlam).

“Claimed,” here, is key. For the earliest references to the figure of Tom are not as madmen but as malingering beggars. In other words, Edgar, rather than just playing a madman, was playing a man playing a madman. First appearing in the printer John Awdeley’s 1561 Fraternitye of Vacabondes, a compendium of Elizabethan beggar types, “poor Tom” was described as one who “walketh bare armed, and bare legged, and faineth him selfe mad”. Later “rogue encyclopedias” listed him among such deceptive vagabonds as “whipjackes” (fake shipwrecked sailors) and “priggers of prauncers” (horse thieves). By the 17th century Tom was familiar enough as to be recognizable by his “long staff, and a cow or ox-horn by his side; his cloathing fantastic and ridiculous... decked and dressed all over with robins [ribbons], feathers, cuttings of cloth”.

No one knows how many flesh-and-blood Toms were wandering the countryside by the time Shakespeare cast him as Edgar’s disguise. But few could have come from the institution itself: Saint Mary of Bethlehem in those decades housed fewer than 30 patients at a time. And yet so many beggars claimed to have been released from Bedlam that in 1675 the overseers of the hospital placed an advertisement in the London Gazette disclaiming the hoaxes.

With the end of the Civil Wars, Tom of Bedlam was said to have disappeared from English highways. By then, however, he had been immortalized, not only by Shakespeare, but in a proliferation of popular songs. There was “Loving Mad Tom” and “The Vagabond” and “To find my Tom of Bedlam.” Some became so famous that other songs could be published with the simple direction “to be sung to the tune of Tom of Bedlam”.

Of all the Mad Tom songs, one in particular stands out: “From the Hagg and Hungry Goblin,” an anonymous piece transcribed around 1615, now surviving in a single manuscript in the British Museum. In it we find Tom, recently released from Bedlam (or claiming so), begging for alms as he travels alone:

With a host of furious fancies Whereof I am commander, With a burning spear and a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander.

The song, quoted by Poe, Kipling, and Scott, was praised by the critic Harold Bloom for a “visionary perspective only rarely achieved in poetic history”. The poet Sir Robert Graves even suggested it was written by Shakespeare himself.

Or perhaps Tom never really vanished, but instead lives in those who have inherited his itinerancy. For, with this remarkable character, Shakespeare also created a mirror for today’s troubled wanderers, pursued by their own “foul fiends.” In them we find Tom’s many-layered complexity: at times seeking pity, at times refusing it, at times threatening, at times forlorn, at times arresting with their colorful clothes and speech. At times mad, at times playing madder: “knights,” as one Mad Tom put it, “of ghosts and shadows.”

[source]

[microcosme11]

L'Empereur lui repondit avec solennite: "Non, Monsieur, elle est morte et enterree."

English guy at the Balcombe's asks Napoleon whether a character in a novel is still alive (thinking it's a real person).

An Englishman, with a great round face who had been listening earnestly, in order to turn his little knowledge of French to the best account, modestly ventured to ask the Emperor whether the Princess, the friend of Matilda, whose character he particularly admired, was still living? The Emperor with a very solemn air replied, “No, sir; she is dead and buried:” and he was almost tempted to believe he was himself hoaxed, until he found that the melancholy tidings almost drew tears from the great staring eyes of the Englishman.

—Memorial of Saint Helena, illustration by Charlet in the French version.

[soon-palestine]

I'm looking over the New York Times reports on Tara Reade's testimony of Biden raping her, and it is astonishing just how depraved these scum are. They went back decades to her college records to question her credibility. They talked to her childhood acquaintances. Utter insanity

whenever a fact adds to Reade's credibility, the NYT immediately frames it as questionable and to be dismissed. She told her story to someone during the period it happened? That guy is pro-Trump now, so that's meaningless, ignore it. Just utter shameless propaganda

hey New York Times what are the politics of the Israeli woman you just gave a 4000 word profile to mustering every resource at your disposal to turn into the most credible trustworthy person in human history? What are the politics of those "doctors" she told her story to? Tell us

you spent paragraph after paragraph detailing Tara Reade's entire political history from when she was in college to the present as if it mattered to her testimony of Biden raping her. What are the politics of Amit Soussana? Not a single word on that. Are her politics this:

the NYT poured over Tara Reade's blog posts about politics and Russia and totally irrelevant topics to make her appear as a crazed pathological liar. That was their job. They destroyed her life intentionally. They ripped it apart. But Amit Soussana was painted as a Holy Saint

she's a lawyer who understands the plight of Palestinians when bombs went off, she loves people, she feeds stray cats, she gives to the homeless. She's actually the reincarnation of Jesus. So every word she says is 100% pure fact about those dirty backward Palestinian animals

this may work on your depraved genocidal liberal base, who gleefully participated in the public lynching of Tara Reade, looking into every inch of her life from when she was a baby to present to frame her as a liar. But it doesn't work on those who aren't in your genocidal cult

no one in the media class will bother to give Amit Soussana the Tara Reade treatment. And remember, Amit comes from a genocidal systematically racist apartheid society where dehumanization of Palestinians is ingrained in the very culture. So she actually must get that treatment

that is the standard the New York Times and all the good liberals have when it comes to every other racist apartheid society where lurid genocidal atrocity propaganda and allegations against its victims are rife, except Israel, as I detailed here:

as I said in that thread, unlike the New York Times, who intentionally fabricate genocidal atrocity propaganda as has been proven with the Gettleman, Schwartz, Sella hoax, and destroys people like Tara Reade, I will actually be principled and apply the same evidentiary standard

the most depraved part of the NYT pouring over every inch of Tara Reade's life, from blog posts to interviewing 100 of her passing acquaintances, neighbors, they actually got one of her neighbors from decades ago to smear her, is that Biden actually is a pathological liar:

do you know that Biden lied about how his wife and child died, blaming a "drunk driver" even though he wasn't at fault at all, just so he could have a good "dramatic" story to tell to the press? He destroyed that man's life. But the NYT finds him credible

most importantly, WHAT THE FUCK DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH TARA READE'S TESTIMONY THAT BIDEN RAPED HER? Nothing. The NYT set out to destroy her, to annihilate her life. But with Amit Soussana they've turned into BelieveAllWomen again, and you're not allowed to question her

I'm sorry NYT, you're the actual rape apologists and deniers. In fact you are the most depraved rape deniers in modern history, not just for Biden, but also Bill Clinton and other Democrats. You are the most depraved scum filth rag that has ever existed in human history

[pamithebunterfly2007]

Actually I don’t feel bad for what I did on DA. And there’s a good reason for that.

Well I may be controversial for causing drama for everyone to hate one me, And they blame me for a certain user they making a certain user leave this site which they know and Miss her and I know her too, SIKE!!!!! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?!! DO I MISS HER?!?! HELL NO!!! Because there’s a good reason why I made her leave, what, does that make me the hero? Or still the villian today?

I honestly wanted to vomit after reading this, I can’t believe this is the WORST FAKE FRIEND I EVER ENCOUNTERED!!!!!!!! LIKE WTF, I STARTED A FUCKING DRAMA WHICH MADE HER LEAVE AND NOW EVERYONE HATES HER (even I do) FOR MAKING A NSFW ROLEPLAY!?!?!? And to make things worse, literally everyone saw and me the whole thing by LA scrapping one of her OC’s Moon the Bunny just to avoid criticism, LIKE WTF GIRL!!!! We See It, I see It, Even the roaches on my cabinet see it. And by saying this, I am the reason I made LACollie Leave Deviantart, Which Honestly I find it pretty funny now everyone hates her and let’s be a little honest here everyone, We all know that the best user of DA is a true villian and by saying this, I think I may have warned everyone about this by making my death hoax, but still I’m ain’t no saint and I’m pretty surprised and somewhat proud for what I did, I’ve never felt THIS evil before, or better, Super Evil! You can call me the Evil Queen Bitch or The Demon Child. because I feel like calling everyone a bunch of swear words from my dirty mouth, Also I think I need some outfits for everyone, Since I’m felling super evil after what I did and proud of what I’ve done, And if @momswapped was there . . . . . . OH get a load of ass and barnacles because IM SUPER EVIL!!!! LIKE IM SO EVIL NOW!!!!!

@softpawsxd

@leftunknown

@sakiohappynoi

@chrisloch6-blog

@pixelmonkey28

@itsmetord

@manekimelikawaii

@cxrxmelchoco

[ordenyprogreso]

🎨 Saint Hoax, McRoyal (Diana), 2017.

[chernobog13]

Fatman, the Human Flying Saucer #3 (August-September, 1967). Cover by C.C. Beck.

Not a joke! Not a hoax! Not an imaginary story! This comic really existed!

Captain Marvel co-creator C.C. Beck and writer Otto Binder, who had written many of the Big Red Cheese's stories, brought Fatman to life. They wanted to cash in on the superhero boom of the mid-1960s. Unfortunately, like so many others, their efforts were short lived when the superhero boom went bust. Fatman's book only lasted three issues.

I read this particular issue several times as a kid because it was part of a small stash an older cousin had, and he let me read it when I visited. I even offered to buy it from him, but me sainted mum put the kibosh on that because she didn't want me reading comics.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Friday, August 9, 2024

july 27_ August 9

THE GREATMARTYR AND HEALER PANTELEIMON (305)

13th century icon of Saint Panteleimon from St catherine monastery of Mt Sinaï

Under the Reign of the impious Maximian, the cruel persecutor of Christians, almost the whole world was covered with the darkness of idolatry. Everywhere there raged a great persecution against those who believed in Christ, and many confessors of the most holy name of Jesus were dying as martyrs. At that time, in the land of Bithynia in the city of Nicomedia, there suffered for Christ the holy great martyr Panteleimon.

From early childhood his mother educated him in Christian piety, beginning with the knowledge of the one true God living in the heavens, our Lord Jesus Christ, so that he might believe in Him and please Him by good deeds and turn away from heathen polytheism. The child attended to his mother’s instructions, and, as far as his age would allow, embraced them. But what a loss and privation! His mother and guide departed to the Lord while he was still a child. After her death, the child easily followed in the steps of his father’s error; and his father often took him to worship the idols, thus confirming him in pagan impiety.

Later, the child was sent to a grammar school, and when he had successfully passed the whole course of pagan studies, his father sent him to a medical school, entrusting him to a certain famous doctor, Euphrosynus, to be trained in the art of medicine. Having a receptive mind, the child easily learnt all that he was taught and soon excelled his fellow students, and could even bear comparison with his own teacher. In addition, he was courteous, eloquent and handsome, and made an excellent impression.

Having received a reply, the emperor ordered him to be put through his medical training as soon as possible, as he wished to have the youth by him always, for he was worthy to stand before the emperor and serve him. By that time, the young man had already reached full maturity.

Perceiving in his spirit that the boy would be a chosen vessel of God, Hermolaus once went out to meet the boy and asked him to come into his house for a moment. The meek and obedient boy went into the priest’s house. Seating him beside him, the elder asked him from where he had come and about his whole manner of life. The boy told everything in detail, how his mother had been a Christian and was dead, and about his father who was alive and, according to pagan laws, worshipped many gods. Saint Hermolaus asked him: “But you, good child, to what side and faith would you like to belong, to your father’s or to your mother’s?”

“My mother,” replied the boy, “while she was alive, taught me her faith, and I loved her faith. But my father, being stronger, makes me keep the pagan laws and wants to put me in the imperial palace as a servant of the emperor.” “And what does your teacher teach you?” asked Saint Hermolaus again. “The teaching of Asclepiades, and of Hippocrates and Galen. That is what my father wanted; and my teacher says that if I master their teaching I shall easily be able to cure every kind of illness.”

In these words, Saint Hermolaus found an opportunity for a profitable discourse and began to sow in the boy’s heart, as on good soil, the good seed of the word of God: “Believe me, good youth,” he said, “I will tell you one truth; the teaching and art of Asclepiades, Hippocrates and Galen are nothing and of little help to those who resort to them. Yes, and the gods which the Emperor Maximian and your father and other pagans worship are false, and nothing but a masquerade and a hoax for the feeble-minded.

“However, there is one true and almighty God—Jesus Christ. If you will believe in Him, you will heal every disease simply by the invocation of His most pure name. For He gave sight to the blind, cleansed lepers, raised the dead, and with one word, freed people from possession by the demons, whom the heathen worship. Even His clothes gave healing. For a woman who had an issue of blood for twelve years, as soon as she touched the hem of His garment, was healed at once.

Pantoleon received all this teaching of Saint Hermolaus as true and took it into his heart. He joyfully meditated upon it and said to the holy elder: “I frequently heard this from my mother and often saw how she prayed and invoked that God of Whom you have been telling me.”

From that day, Pantoleon came to the old priest every day, and enjoying his inspired talks, grew strong in the knowledge of the true God. When he returned from his teacher Euphrosynus, he never went home without first visiting the elder and receiving his soul-saving instructions.

At once the child rose up alive as if from sleep. Then Pantoleon fully believed in Christ. He turned his bodily and spiritual eyes towards heaven and blessed God with joy and tears for having called him out of darkness into the light of His knowledge. Quickly, he went to Saint Hermolaus the priest, fell at his feet, and asked for baptism. He told him what had happened: how the dead child had come to life by the power of the name of Jesus Christ but that the snake had died.

After his baptism, Pantoleon stayed with the priest Hermolaus for seven days, imbibing as from a fountain of living water the divine words communicated to him by the lips of the priest and by the grace of Christ. On the eighth day he went home, and his father asked him: “Where have you been, my son, for so many days? I have been anxious about you.”

“I have been with the teacher at the emperor’s court,” the Saint replied. “We treated a sick man whom the emperor loves very much, and we did not leave him for seven days until we had restored him to health.”

So said the Saint, and he told no lie. For in the form of a parable, he spoke the truth allegorically. In his mind, he referred to Saint Hermolaus as the teacher; by the royal palace, he meant that interior peace in which the Divine Mystery is accomplished; and by the sick man, he meant his own soul, which the Heavenly King loved, and which for seven days was given spiritual treatment.

Here again he spoke allegorically of Holy Baptism which he had received, and of the other Mysteries of the Christian Faith which he had learnt and which are all of great price, exceeding all riches—for they were obtained by the Blood of Christ. When he heard this, Euphrosynus stopped his questions, and blessed Pantoleon was filled with the grace of God, bearing within him the treasure of holy faith. He was very concerned as to how to bring his father out of the darkness of idolatry and lead him to the light of the knowledge of Christ. Conversing with him wisely every day by parables and questions, he said to him:

“Father! Why do the gods who are fashioned standing remain standing just as they were at first and never sit? And why do those made sitting continue to sit till today and never stand?” “Your question is not quite clear to me,” replied his father, “and I do not know what to answer to it.”

By constantly putting questions of this kind to his father, the Saint caused him to lose faith in his gods and begin to understand the falsehood and error of idolatry. His father formerly used to offer large numbers of sacrifices to the idols every day, but now he stopped worshipping them and began to despise them.

Seeing this, Pantoleon rejoiced that at least he had aroused doubt in his father regarding the idols, even if he had not yet completely succeeded in turning him away from them. Pantoleon often wished to smash his father’s idols, of which there were many in his house, but he restrained himself, partly so as not to anger his father—whom according to the commandments of God we must honour—and partly because he was waiting for the time when his father would know the true God and would want to destroy them with his own hands.

The Saint replied: “If you have spent all your money on those doctors from whom you received no benefit, how will you remunerate me if you receive healing and are able to see?” “All the little that I have left,” cried the blind man, “I shall readily give to you.”

“The gift of sight,” said the Saint, “which reveals the light to you, will be given to you by the Father of lights, the true God, through me, His unworthy servant. And so, give what you have promised not to me, but distribute it among the poor.”

Hearing this, Eustorgius, Pantoleon’s father, said to him: “My son, do not rashly undertake a thing which you cannot do, or you will make a fool of yourself. In actual fact, what more can you do than the doctors more experienced than you who treated him but could not cure him?”

“Not one of those doctors,” retorted the Saint, “knows the means that I know, for there is a tremendous difference between them and my teacher who revealed his means to me.”

Thinking that he was speaking about his teacher Euphrosynus, his father remarked: “I have heard that your teacher also treated this blind man and could do nothing.”

“Wait a little, my father,” replied Pantoleon, “and you will see the power of my treatment.” With these words he touched the eyes of the blind man with his fingers, saying: “In the name of my Lord Jesus Christ Who enlightens the blind, receive your sight.”

At once, the eyes of the blind man were opened and he began to see. And at that moment, Pantoleon’s father Eustorgius, as well as the man who had recovered his sight, believed in Christ. Both were baptized by the holy priest Hermolaus, and they were filled with great spiritual joy at the power and grace of Christ.

Then Eustorgius began to smash all the idols in his house, and his son Pantoleon helped him. Having broken all the idols to pieces, they threw the remains into a deep ditch and covered them with earth. Eustorgius lived only a short time after this and then passed on to the Lord. Having thus become the heir to the extremely rich paternal estates, Pantoleon at once gave his men and women slaves their freedom and generously remunerated them.

He gave his property away to the needy: to beggars, to the poor, to widows and orphans. He went round to the prisons and visited all who were suffering in chains, comforting them with medical treatment and gifts of those things of which they were in need. Thus, he was a physician not only of wounds but also of human misery and poverty. All received from him generous help; the poor were enriched by his generosity, and in curing them he was helped by the grace of God.

He was given the gift of healing from on high, and he healed every kind of disease free of charge—not so much by means of medicines as by invoking the name of Jesus Christ. Then Pantoleon truly became Panteleimon, that is, all-merciful, and by name and in deed he showed mercy to all. He did not let anyone go away from him without alms or consolation. For to those who were in need he gave assistance and treated the sick without payment. The whole city brought their sick to him and left all the other doctors because they received from no one such quick and perfect healing as from Panteleimon, who successfully treated everyone and accepted payment from no one.

The name of the merciful physician became known to all, and the other doctors were condemned and mocked. As a result, there arose on the part of the doctors no little jealousy and enmity in regard to the Saint. It had already begun at the time when the blind man regained his sight, but it reached a peak in the following manner...Continue reading Holy Cross monastery

VENERABLE ANTHUSA, ABBESS OF MANTINEA IN ASIA MINOR  (759)

Venerable Anthousa the Confessor lived during the reign of Emperor Constantine Copronymos (ca. 741). She lived at Mantinea, Paphlygonia in Asia Minor during the VIII century. Her parents, Stratḗgios and Febronia, were distinguished for their piety, and raised their daughter in the same way.

Despite all the marriage proposals Anthousa received, she remained a virgin. After her parents reposed, she did not change her mind, but devoted her parental inheritance to charitable and sacred causes. Forsaking the world at a young age, Saint Anthousa lived a life of asceticism in the mountains in complete solitude. She received the monastic tonsure from Hieromonk Sisinios, and became Igoumeness of a Monastery with ninety nuns. These nuns were known for their obedience to their Igoumeness and for their spiritual discipline. Saint Anthousa built two monasteries: Mantineos, with a church dedicated to Saint Anna; and another in honor of the Holy Apostles, which was a women's monastery.

When Emperor Constantine Copronymos ordered a harsh persecution against the Holy Icons and those who venerated them. Saint Anthousa's Monastery became one of the most ardent defenders of Orthodoxy. The Emperor sent his agent to say that she would be left alone if she ceased to venerate the Icons. When she refused, she and her nuns were subjected to torture, for disobeying the Emperor’s decree. Soldiers tied them up and flogged them. Then burning icons were placed on the Saint's head, and her feet were burnt with red-hot coals. Finally, she was exiled.

But when the Holy Igoumeness predicted that the sick Empress would escape death, and would give birth to twins, then she loved Anthousa very much, and supported her Monastery in various ways. Among those who had witnessed her torture was the Emperor’s wife, to whom the Saint predicted the birth of a son and a daughter. When Saint Anthousa's prediction was fulfilled, she was allowed to return to her convent, where she reposed at an advanced age. The daughter born to the Emperor’s wife was also named Anthousa (April 12).

After living a life pleasing to God, the Holy Confessor Anthousa reposed in 759 (or 775, or 794), and now lives with Him forever. She was buried in her cell.

2 TIMOTHY 2:1-10

1 You therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. 2 And the things that you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also. 3 You therefore must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. 4 No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier. 5 And also if anyone competes in athletics, he is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. 6 The hardworking farmer must be first to partake of the crops. 7 Consider what I say, and may the Lord give you understanding in all things. 8 Remember that Jesus Christ, of the seed of David, was raised from the dead according to my gospel, 9 for which I suffer trouble as an evildoer, even to the point of chains; but the word of God is not chained. 10 Therefore I endure all things for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory.

JOHN 15:17-16:2

17 These things I command you, that you love one another. 18 If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. 19 If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. 20 Remember the word that I said to you, 'A servant is not greater than his master.' If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also. 21 But all these things they will do to you for My name's sake, because they do not know Him who sent Me. 22 If I had not come and spoken to them, they would have no sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin. 23 He who hates Me hates My Father also. 24 If I had not done among them the works which no one else did, they would have no sin; but now they have seen and also hated both Me and My Father. 25 But this happened that the word might be fulfilled which is written in their law, 'They hated Me without a cause.' 26 But when the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. 27 And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning.

1 These things I have spoken to you, that you should not be made to stumble. 2 They will put you out of the synagogues; yes, the time is coming that whoever kills you will think that he offers God service.

[scotianostra]

On May 2nd 1933 the story of the Loch Ness Monster first appeared in the press, starting off a long-running debate on whether or not some unknown animal or fish inhabits the murky depths of the loch.

The modern story of The Loch Ness Monster was born when a sighting makes local news on May 2, 1933. The newspaper Inverness Courier relates an account of a local couple who claim to have seen “an enormous animal rolling and plunging on the surface.” The story of the “monster” (a moniker chosen by the Courier editor) becomes a media phenomenon, with London newspapers sending correspondents to Scotland and a circus offering a 20,000 pound reward for capture of the beast.

After the April 1933 sighting was reported in the newspaper on May 2, interest steadily grew, especially after another couple claimed to have seen the animal on land.

Amateur investigators have for decades kept an almost constant vigil, and in the 1960s several British universities launched sonar expeditions to the lake. Nothing conclusive was found, but in each expedition the sonar operators detected some type of large, moving underwater objects. In 1975, another expedition combined sonar and underwater photography in Loch Ness. A photo resulted that, after enhancement, appeared to show what vaguely resembled the giant flipper of an aquatic animal.

Further sonar expeditions in the 1980s and 1990s resulted in more inconclusive readings. Revelations in 1994 that the famous 1934 photo was a complete hoax has only slightly dampened the enthusiasm of tourists and investigators for the legendary beast of Loch Ness.

The story might have hit the headlines then, but the people around the loch have known for centuries that there was something else was sharing the loch that holds more freshwater than the whole of England and Wales combined. The first known sighting was by St Columba in the year 565.

This is taken from an 1874 translation of Vita Columbae The Life of St. Columba), written by St Adamnan in the 7th century.

"....On another occasion also, when the blessed man was living for some days in the province of the Picts, he was obliged to cross the river Nesa (the Ness); and when he reached the bank of the river, he saw some of the inhabitants burying an unfortunate man, who, according to the account of those who were burying him, was a short time before seized, as he was swimming, and bitten most severely by a monster that lived in the water; his wretched body was, though too late, taken out with a hook, by those who came to his assistance in a boat. The blessed man, on hearing this, was so far from being dismayed, that he directed one of his companions to swim over and row across the coble that was moored at the farther bank. And Lugne Mocumin hearing the command of the excellent man, obeyed without the least delay, taking off all his clothes, except his tunic, and leaping into the water. But the monster, which, so far from being satiated, was only roused for more prey, was lying at the bottom of the stream, and when it felt the water disturbed above by the man swimming, suddenly rushed out, and, giving an awful roar, darted after him, with its mouth wide open, as the man swam in the middle of the stream. Then the blessed man observing this, raised his holy hand, while all the rest, brethren as well as strangers, were stupefied with terror, and, invoking the name of God, formed the saving sign of the cross in the air, and commanded the ferocious monster, saying, 'Thou shalt go no further, nor touch the man; go back with all speed.' Then at the voice of the saint, the monster was terrified, and fled more quickly than if it had been pulled back with ropes, though it had just got so near to Lugne, as he swam, that there was not more than the length of a spear-staff between the man and the beast. Then the brethren seeing that the monster had gone back, and that their comrade Lugne returned to them in the boat safe and sound, were struck with admiration, and gave glory to God in the blessed man. And even the barbarous heathens, who were present, were forced by the greatness of this miracle, which they themselves had seen, to magnify the God of the Christians."

Another tale about St. Columba regarding the Loch Ness 'Monster' asserts that Columba gave the monster a blessing and the freedom to live in the loch for having towed Columba and his followers from one end of Loch Ness to the other in their coracles against the winds, In this version, the monster is a Scottish 'water-horse', maybe a Kelpie?,which can change its form at will; for the towing job, the monster transformed itself into an athletic young man, tied the coracles together, changed back into a 'water-horse' Although this version only seems to appear in a 1973 book " The Story of the Loch Ness Monster " and it is speculated that the author Tim Dinsdale simply made it up, a bit like many of the sightings? Well who am I to say that!

Of course Loch Ness is not the only place in Scotland that has a monster, by coincidence the subject of my "Good Morning" post, Loch Morar is said to have its own beast named "Morag".

[desertsongpdf]

VIDEO ESSAYS (part ??? 1/2) [parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 3.5 / 4 / 5 / 6], *=personal fav

ronald reagan & the biggest failure in physics (1) / george bush vomited & set physics back by a decade (2) / bill clinton & the day physics died (3)

the man who almost faked his way to a nobel prize (1) / suspicions are swirling and bell labs is burning (2)

the man who tried to fake an element

air: an honest review

what if you put your head in a particle accelerator

the most successful scientific theory ever: the standard model

the five kinds of paradox

disney channel's theme: a history mystery*

music theory and white supremacy*

the power of nostalgic music

we tracked what happens after tiktok songs go viral

why spotify playlists never truly shuffle

will toledo and the rise of car seat headrest

kid a: the greatest left turn in music history

how trailer music tricks you

why steve lacy is annoyed.

the postmodern horror of tiktok's encanto discourse*

the queer history of weimar germany

queerbaiting celebrities: an over analysis*

why queer relationship dynamics are harder: the stable marrige problem

queer rage & the christian right

overanalyzing the barbie movies with a queer marxist theory

the gay appeal of toxic love

queering cinema (by any means necessary)

the tragedy of being rich

what the internet did to garfield*

your college essay didn't get you accepted, you're just rich

why are you so angry? part 1: a short history of anita sarkeesian / part 2: angry jack / part 3: perception is everything / part 4: an autopsy on gamergate / part 5: 'the good guy' / part 6: talking to angry jack

the modern diogenes: a guide to slavoj zizek

stimulating alternate voting systems

men are miserable: tiktok's depression pipeline

the broken mythology of great men

so you're having an existential crisis

why is gen z humor so weird?

how to be correct about everything all the time

useful idiots and the groomer panic

why extinction loves the ugly - the 'cute' defence

paris saint-germain: a legacy of failure

why did sebastian vettel get called out on national tv?

an introduction to match fixing in football

the debacle of blue clay: used once and never again

atticus is everything wrong with modern poetry*

how the publishing industry failed 'lolita' (as told by terrible book covers)

the death of the teen fantasy era

recreating the fashion of my immortal

hijacking the dead? terry prachett & the trans 'debate'

this best-selling novel was a total hoax

the little book of cosmic horrors

the absurd 2nd century space opera you'll never read

fantasy is very pro-monarchy (and that's weird)

anti-smoking campaigns on tiktok

why did our brains shrink

the origins of the anti-christ

world war one performance tier list

the psychology behind conspiracy theories

why are there two a's?

i fixed the alphabet / i fixed the alphabet more

hangman is a weird game

the curious history of ignorant tattoos

the arguments for god's existance tier list

projecting 'boris is a wet wipe' on houses of parliment

buddhism is kinda out there, man

mortis - internet mysteries

the universe iceberg explained

reviewing every mental illness

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 8.25

Holidays

American Oil Discovery Day (Pennsylvania)

Apocynum Day (French Republic)

Aromatic Visibility Day

Australian South Sea Islander Recognition Day (Australia)

Battle Of Blair Mountain Anniversary Day

Clio Asteroid Day

English Channel Swim Day

Gene Simmons Day

Great American Duck Day

The Great Moon Hoax Day

Healthy Lifestyle Day

Honorable Artillery Company Day (UK)

International Day of the Hairstylist

International Redhead Day

Kiss and Make Up Day

Lake Sevan Day (Armenia)

Liberation of Paris Day (Paris, France)

National Don't Utter a Word Day

National Park Service Founders Day

National Poetry Day (New Zealand)

National Second-Hand Wardrobe Day

National Tech-Voc Day (Philippines)

Nils Lofgren Day

Pops Staples Day (Chicago, Illinois)

Private Eye Day

Rohingya Genocide Remembrance Day

Second-Hand Wardrobe Day

Soldier's Day (Brazil)

Songun (North Korea)

South Sea Islander Recognition Day (Australia)

Tim Burton Day

Wizard of Oz Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Feast of the Green Corn

Instant Ramen Day (Japan)

National Banana Split Day

National Lamington Day

National Whiskey Sour Day

Independence & Related Days

Belarus (from USSR, 1991)

Constitution Day (Paraguay)

Iloilo City Charter Day (Philippines)

New Orleans (Founded; 1718)

Parva Domus Magna Quies (Declared; 1878) [unrecognized]

Uruguay (from Brazil, 1825)

4th & Last Sunday in August

Burning Man begins (Nevada) [8.27 thru 9.4]

Family Day (Tennessee) [Last Sunday]

Go Topless Day [ website ] [Sunday nearest 26th] (Also 8.24)

International Bereaved Father’s Day [Last Sunday]

Miner’s Day (USSR) [Last Sunday]

National Faith HIV/AIDS Awareness Day [Last Sunday]

National Fantasy Football Draft Day [Last Sunday]

Notting Hill Carnival begins (UK) [Sunday before Last Monday]

Plague Sunday (Gloucestershire, UK) [Last Sunday]

Pony Express Day [Last Sunday]

Sacrifice Our Wants For Other’s Needs Sunday [Sunday of Be Kind to Humankind Week]

Seven For Sunday [Every Sunday]

Social Justice Sunday [Last Sunday]

Soothing Sunday [4th Sunday of Each Month]

Spud Sunday [4th Sunday of Each Month]

Souper Sunday [Last Sunday of Each Month]

Sultry Sunday [Last Sunday of Each Month]

Sundae Sunday [Every Sunday]

Sunday Funday [Every Sunday]

World Kitchen Garden Day [4th Sunday]

Weekly Holidays beginning August 25 (4th Full Week of August)

Be Kind to Humankind Week (thru 8.31)

Brake Safety Week (thru 8.31)

Contact Lens Health Week [4th Week]

National Composites Week [Last Week]

World Water Week (thru 8.29)

Festivals Beginning August 25, 2024

Bloemencorso Blankenberge (Blankenberge, Belgium)

Burning Man (Black Rock City, Nevada) [thru 9.2]

California Restaurant Show (Los Angeles, California) [thru 8.27]

Coffee Fest Los Angeles (Los Angeles, California) [thru 8.27]

Detroit Bourbon & Blues Festival (Detroit, Michigan)

Georgia VegFest (Atlanta, Georgia)

Notting Hill Carnival (London, United Kingdom) [thru 8.26]

Nutty Pie Contest, at the Alaska State Fair (Palmer, Alaska)

Peach Festival (Grafton, Illinois)

Sharq Taronalari International Music Festival (Samarkand, Uzbekistan) [thru 8.30]

Taste of Huntington Beach (Huntington Beach, California)

Terptown Throwdown (Boston, Massachusetts)

Feast Days

Æbbe of Coldingham (Christian; Saint)

Aredius (Christian; Saint)

Bret Harte (Writerism)

Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo (Artology)

Conté (Positivist; Saint)

Daniel Hulet (Artology)

Discovery of the Runes (Norse)

Dorothea Tanning (Artology)

Duke (Price Charming’s Horse; Muppetism)

Ebba (a.k.a. Tabbs; Christian; Saint)

Frederick Forsyth (Writerism)

Ganesh Chaturthi (a.k.a. Vinayaka Chaturthi; India)

Genesius of Arles (Christian; Saint)

Genesius of Rome (Christian; Saint)

Ginés de la Jara (a.k.a. Genesius of Cartagena; Christian; Saint)

George Stubbs (Artology)

Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato (Artology)

Gregory of Utrecht (Christian; Saint)

Heliogabalus Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Horus Nativity (Ancient Egypt)

Ian Falconer (Artology)

Jacob Maris (Artology)

Joan Antide-Thouret (Christian; Saint & Virgin)

Joseph of Calasanz (Christian; Saint)

Leonard Bernstein (Humanism)

Louis IX of France (Christian; Saint)

Ludovicus Baba (Christian; Blessed)

Ludovicus Sasada (Christian; Blessed)

Luis Sotelo (Christian; Blessed)

Maelrubha (Celtic Book of Days)

Martin Amis (Writerism)

Mary Michaela Desmaisieres (Christian; Saint & Virgin)

Menas of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Michael Kaluta (Artology)

Miguel de Carvalho (Christian; Blessed)

Opiconsivia (Roman festival to Ops, goddess of fertility & abundance)

Patricia of Naples (Christian; Saint)

Pedro Vásquez, Blessed (Christian; Saint)

Rumpleskunkskin’s Bride Escapes to Heerwigoland (Fairy Celebration; Shamanism)

Thomas de Cantilupe (a.k.a. of Hereford; Christian; Saint)

Walt Kelly (Artology)

Whiskey Sour Day (Pastafarian)

Hindu Calendar Holidays [Begins at Sundown Day Before]

Krishna Janmashtami (a.k.a. Krishnashtami, Janmashtami, or Gokulashtami)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [34 of 53]

Premieres

Advance and Be Mechanized (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1967)

And Justice For All, by Metallica (Album; 1988)

Barnacle Bill (Betty Boop Cartoon; 1930)

Beerfest (Film; 2006)

Bertie the Brain (Video Game; 1950)

Born to Run, by Bruce Springsteen (Album; 1975)

Boston, by Boston (Album; 1976)

Bring It On (Film; 2000)

Carrotblanca (WB LT Cartoon; 1995)

Cheese Chasers (WB MM Cartoon; 1951)

Desperado (Film; 1995)

Electric Ladyland Studio (Recording Studio; 1970)

The Golden West (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1939)

Graceland, by Paul Simon (Album; 1986)

Grand Uproar (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1933)

Humboldt's Gift, by Saul Bellow (Novel; 1975)

Invasion of the Bunny Snatchers (WB TV Cartoon; 1992)

Laughable Loves, by Milan Kundera (Short Stories; 1969)

Leap!, a.k.a. Ballerina (Animated Film; 2017)

Madame Bovary (Film; 1949)

Miracle on 34th Street, by Valentine Davies (Novel; 1947)

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, by Lauryn Hill (Album; 1998)

Mutt ’n’ Bones (Phantasies Cartoon; 1944)

My So-Called Life (TV Series; 1994)

The Pink Tail Fly (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1965)

The Pique Poquette of Paris (The Inspector Cartoon; 1966)

Raw! Raw! Rooster! (WB LT Cartoon; 1956)

Samurai!, by Saburo Sakai (Autobiography; 1957)

Solid Ivory (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1947)

Swing Shift Cinderella (Tex Avery MGM Cartoon; 1945)

The Tale of Despereaux, by Kate DiCamillo (Children’s Book; 2003)

The Thief and the Cobbler (Animated Film; 1995)

The Wizard of Oz (Film; 1939)

Wrecking Ball, by Miley Cyrus (Song; 2013)

Today’s Name Days

Elvira, Josef, Ludwig, Patricia (Austria)

Grgur, Josip, Ljudevit (Croatia)

Radim (Czech Republic)

Ludvig (Denmark)

Tauno, Tunne (Estonia)

Loviisa (Finland)

Louis (France)

Ebba, Elvira, Ludwig (Germany)

Bartholomeos, Titos (Greece)

Lajos, Patrícia (Hungary)

Ludovico, Luigi (Italy)

Ivonna, Ludis, Ludvigs (Latvia)

Liucija, Liudas, Liudvikas, Mangailas, Mangailė (Lithuania)

Louise, Lovise, Ludvig (Norway)

Gaudencjusz, Gaudenty, Grzegorz, Ludwik, Luiza, Michał, Sieciesław (Poland)

Ľudovít (Slovakia)

Ginés, José, Luis, Patricia (Spain)

Louise, Lovisa (Sweden)

Dorcas, Lanard, Lennie, Lenny, Leonard, Leonardo, Tabatha, Tabitha (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 238 of 2024; 128 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of Week 34 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 23 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Ren-Shen), Day 22 (Xin-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 21 Av 5784

Islamic: 19 Safar 1446

J Cal: 28 Purple; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 12 August 2024

Moon: 58%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 13 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Conté]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 67 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of August

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 4 of 32)