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kh-d-r · 2 years ago

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The Abuse of the Female

By the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan

In The Name of Allah, The Beneficent, The Merciful.

The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan

If we would come together as a family, husband and wife, we will start pulling the children back and then holiness will replace the broken spirit from broken marriages and broken homes.

According to the Holy Qur’an, the Hereafter is described as a paradise with 70 virgins. This description can be interpreted to make men willing to become martyrs and kill people for political purposes, in order to go to heaven immediately so he can get to be with 70 virgins—but this is the wrong way to understand such a beautiful picture of the Hereafter.

The Old Testament says, “A virtuous woman is more precious than silver and gold.”

In Islam, we cover our women, because the female body is a natural attraction to a real man. Allah (God) formed the female that way. Human beings procreate because of the attraction between male and female. A woman that covers herself is not trying to attract a man on base principles. Women have had enough of men being attracted to them because of the beauty of their forms, face and hair rather than the intelligence of a creature of God that He created for a serious purpose.

When the slave-master destroyed us as a people, his aim was first and foremost to destroy the Black male so that the White male would become the master of the Black female and then take her all the way down. It became acceptable for us to be whores and pimps because then we as a people were constantly lowered because we have lowered our respect for the female.

Women are beautiful and the female body is attractive, but a real man cannot think sane thoughts with the female form on his mind. Girls look at television, watching beautiful Beyonce with her beautiful body, but her moves are so provocative. The child does not know anything about sex, but sees that adults approve of those provocative dances, and begins to imitate Beyonce. As young as four and three, girls are learning to shake their bodies in vulgar dances, yet no one seems to be speaking to this as the destruction of potential virtue.

Some men have become so sick that they try to push themselves in a sexual way into a baby, splitting them. Fathers are sexually abusing their daughters, along with uncles, brothers, cousins and even aunts; and now the lesbian craze is in. We are so undervalued because of our ignorance and lack of the potential for honor and respect.

So some women tell themselves they do not need a man for anything. It is not that our women want to be lesbians, but another woman understands the pain that another woman is going through or being put through in her interaction with men. When they get tired of the game playing, they fall on each other and find more comfort in another woman than they find in a man. But I do not care if you call yourself a lesbian, when a real man comes along, a real man will awaken that spark in you because you are a real woman—a beautiful woman, but a very abused woman.

***

If a virtuous woman is more precious than silver and gold and you wake up in a place where there are 70 virtuous girls who have never been touched by a man, where did you wake up? You do not have to physically die to see that paradise, but you have to die as a n----r. You have to die as the creature that the White man made. When you wake up from that death, you will want to see virtuous women, because the Honorable Elijah Muhammad said, “Where there are no decent women, there are no decent men, for the Black woman is the mother of civilization.”

Women are being programmed, not for the Kingdom of God, but for the kingdom of sluts. I am appealing to church leaders to begin to stand up and ask our women to be better and to protect them when they desire to be better. We should not allow any man to destroy that kind of virtue.

The number 70 represents infinity. So when a martyr has given his life, he is really saying he is giving his life to produce a world in which women are virtuous and men are respectful. If you saw 70 virgins in the paradise promised by God and there are men there before you, then those men have not defiled those women. So you do not go to that paradise with vulgar thoughts in your mind.

It is one of the most beautiful pictures of paradise on earth, when women are in a sanctuary where no man will dare molest them. Women are under protection. If the female is not protected, then the destruction of the nation comes through the woman, since the elevation of the nation comes through the woman.

The Honorable Elijah Muhammad gave us a law that no man strikes his wife. How are you going to beat the woman that produces your future? Men should be ashamed to abuse women, but most men who beat and bruise women, yet want sex with them the same night they beat them. Men want to beat women like they are inanimate objects, like trees or a lamppost that a dog will lift its leg to; like women do not have feelings.

Do you think after you beat up a woman that she really wants to give herself to you? Why would you want to take pleasure from someone to whom you have given so much pain?

We are a sick people and there is no way we can expect White people to show respect to us and submit to our desires when we are so fractured and broken as a people. But no one wants to address the real problem: respect for authority. Who is the Supreme Authority of this creation? It is our Creator. Does the Creator have a right to expect from us respect, honor and obedience?

Many of us drive automobiles, which come with an owner’s manual in the glove compartment when we bought it. If we really want to get the best out of our vehicles, we have to follow certain guiding principles in the owner’s manual from the maker. Some of us use beauty products, which have instruction on the bottle. If we fail to pay attention to the instructions, we may lose our hair.

So since the Creator is the author of our existence, should not He have the right to give us instructions and should not we respect His right to guide us in how to use the life that He so beautifully and wonderfully gave to us? The Bible and Holy Qur’an both contain instructions on how to use the life that Allah (God) has given. Scriptures are not romantic stories of foolishness; they offer many wonderful guiding principles. In our ignorance, we defile our bodies, but there is a consequence for rebellion against God, Who is the highest line of authority.

In the nature of the man, Allah (God) put him in authority. He may not have the wisdom of how to exercise authority, but God put it in his nature. In the old marriage vows, we would recite: “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor and obey him, cherish him, etc., until death us do part.” But in order to hold authority, men have to possess the wisdom of how to exercise that authority. Ignorance and authority is very destructive. So a woman cannot obey a man simply because he is a big, strong man if he is not intelligent.

The way the enemy has crafted this society, Black women are the majority of the students in college, while most Black men are on street corners. Women are studying law, medicine, marine biology and engineering, while men are studying physical education.

Women cannot honor, respect, obey and cherish a man who does not understand what it means to be a man. So our family life is being destroyed. Our marriages are falling apart and the only way men think we can maintain strength in the house is by physical force.

Brothers, as men, if you govern your life by the moral standard of the Teachings, then your wife has some justification to respect and honor you. If you grow in the wisdom of the Teachings, your wife has some right to obey you. But you cannot expect obedience to ignorance. That is against the law of nature and intelligence.

When men have an outside interest in another female, and they have made a vow to their wives; and because there are so many women with so few men, men feel that they can play with women, who do not respect marriage. In the Islamic world, adultery is punished by death penalty. Allah (God) gave Moses a law that the fornicator and adulterer should be stoned to death, because marriage is the cornerstone of family. Family is the cornerstone of nation and anything that will interfere, corrupt or destroy marriage and family is ultimately a disease that will undermine and sink that nation.

Your wife may believe your lies about your whereabouts at first, but eventually you cannot fool your wife when another woman interferes in her house. She knows something is wrong; your touch does not feel the same. When she confronts you with actual facts, you become a master liar and manipulator. You put on a macho front and threaten her. But either you are going to come clean or you undermine yourself by lying.

She argues with you because she is hurting. She feels betrayed. She does not mind calling you out of your name. Your children are listening. When the fight is over, the children talk to each other about what you called each other. If the father smacks the mother, the children tend not to take their father’s side. The woman brought them into the world. They are on her side because nature tells them to be on her side. Babies will throw their bottles at their fathers for hitting their mothers.

While it is natural for a man to be attracted to the beauty of a woman, Brothers, we must restrain ourselves to protect our marriages and families. The face of the enticing beauty of women is a great test, which most of us fail. Men believe there is free pleasure, but there is no free woman. Every woman costs money and it costs money to play. To play with your wife, family and the future of that family is self-destructive and almost suicidal behavior.

In meteorology, the study of weather, there are cold fronts and warm fronts, there is warm water and there are clouds that have all of these different dynamics that produces clashes. There is thunder and lightning, and then there are storms. When you bring a strange woman or a strange man into your house, you are creating the dynamic of a weather change in your house.

Usually, meteorologists will tell you it is going to rain so you get your umbrella and raincoat. But when you are creating storms in your house, you are never prepared for the weather that you have created. Your wife does not want to cook anymore. The house starts getting dirty.

Even though the Holy Qur’an says a man can take up to four wives, I would not do that if I were you. Allah (God) is the Best Knower, so I would not use that verse before you use another verse that says, “One is better for you if you but understood.” Don’t run out playing with women. When you play with a woman, you are playing with fire, Brother, and it will burn you. And most of you are burned today.

The Bible teaches that Christ is the head of man; man is the head of woman; and woman is the head of children. Christ is the head because his wisdom is coming down through the man, through the woman, then through the children. This produces a peaceful home. It does not mean that there is not going to be problems but, if God is the head of your house and men respect Him and follow His guidance, then our wives have a chance to honor, respect and possibly obey us. But right now, most of us have lost moral authority in our own house.

To have moral authority does not mean that you are just living a moral life. It means that you are working hard to bring home the money to take care of your family. The more your wife helps you to make ends meet, the more your voice gets diminished. The Holy Qur’an says that men are the maintainers of women, not that women are the maintainers of men.

But the White man has built a world that makes it difficult for men to be maintainers of their families. While husband and wife may both have degrees, men may not always make enough money to provide the lifestyle that they both desire. So, the wife has to work. There is a compromise there because the wife is working and more than likely she is making more money than her husband.

When the woman is earning more money than the man, her voice can get very deep. When the man earns less, haven’t found a job or haven’t had a job, his voice starts getting higher. He is home washing dishes. This role reversal is created by the clever, social engineering and manipulation of the enemy. He is creating circumstances to break up our homes and destroy our families, so that we will never rise as a people.

Only when we can control those kinds of circumstances can we reverse what the enemy is doing to us and causing us to do to one another. Men may have authority by God, but they do not have it by the wisdom that he has or by the actions that he takes. So when a woman violates a man’s authority, he does not have any recourse because he does not have the wisdom to control her with wisdom. That’s when he beats her and that’s when murder can enter a woman’s heart for her husband.

We have to make the change within ourselves, then we can force a change in others; but the change does not start with the enemy. The change starts with us. The Holy Qur’an says, “God will never change the condition of a people until they change within themselves.”

Are we willing to do that today, Brothers? Go home, Brothers. Leave the strange woman alone. Cut that relationship off and go home to your wife who is the mother of your children. If you do not want to confess, she already knows anyway; but just tell her: “I thank you for standing by me, baby, in my foolishness but I am going to turn over a new leaf and I need you to help me.”

The Holy Qur’an says, “Corruption has appeared on the land and the sea on account of what men’s hands have wrought that He (Allah) may make them taste a part of that which they have done so that they may return.” The Nation of Islam has undergone a period of corruption because we took the domestic life of Prophet Muhammad of Arabia (Peace be upon him) or our Messenger, the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, as a rule for our lives. But Allah (God) directed what those two men of God did, while immorality and lust directed what most other men have done.

Allah (God) allowed it to happen so that the Nation of Islam would get caught up in the consequences of corruption, but He is not bringing the full weight of what we have done. He will make you taste a part of it so that we may return to a righteous path and the Restrictive Laws of Islam.

If your marriage is failing and these divorces keep climbing, that is a social indicator of decay. We have to be examples for our sons and daughters. These young boys will be good if they have good guidance and good instruction and a good example. These young girls will be good if their mothers were the right examples for them. Allah (God) is going to judge us all on how we used or misused our influence.

We need to change. We need to stop the masquerade and showboat of Islam, where we look holy but act very unholy. The real person is behind the mask, but we need to take the mask off and look in the mirror and see ourselves for what we are and then take steps to truly beautify ourselves again.

There has been great upset in the Islamic world over a Danish newspaper printing a degrading cartoon of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). There is no Muslim of this planet that can tolerate someone maligning or besmirching the image of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) who brought this dynamic truth, the Holy Qur’an to the world. We are displeased, but when a disbeliever makes a caricature of our Prophet, he is only manifesting ignorance and a lack of understanding of that which he is mocking. But the greatest defilers of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) are those who claim him as their prophet.

The Muslim world is a caricature of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). A caricature is the gross enlargement of characteristics for the purpose of mockery or fun. Do you think the Prophet would be happy to see Shiite and Sunni Muslims slaughtering each other in Iraq? That is a caricature. The Muslim world is corrupted with conduct that the Prophet taught against: kings and rulers bringing in women and liquor from Europe, getting drunk in their palaces, coming to America and spending millions of dollars in gambling places and on prostitutes. This conduct is a caricature of the Prophet. We have to come back in our own house and end our caricature of Islam.

Many of you look so beautiful in your uniforms and regalia for coming to the mosque. But as the Honorable Elijah Muhammad said during one lecture when our Muslim Brothers from the East were sitting on the rostrum, they are not here to see that you are clothed in a long, white dress or a long, black dress; they are here to see if you are clothed in the principles of your religion.

We have fallen a long way and it is time to recognize that. The outside world already recognizes it. They already know. They are waiting for us to catch up to what we have shown them. There was a time when you could not go in any ward where Black people live and you could not find a Muslim with the Muhammad Speaks. There was a time when Black women, even though they never came to a mosque, felt safe when they saw a Muslim because they knew we would protect them. There was a time when gang violence would never rear its ugly head because the F.O.I. was strong.

But today, when the light goes out in the house, there is nothing for the people to hold on to. So should the show go on? Should the masquerade ball continue? Or should we say that the masquerade is over and let’s go home and recommit our lives to Allah (God) and the righteous principles that we know we have been taught; recommit our lives to our spouses and children.

If we would come together as a family, husband and wife, we will start pulling the children back and then holiness will replace the broken spirit from broken marriages and broken homes.

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 2 years ago

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New Audio: The Church Shares Cinematic and Glam Rock-like "No Other You"

New Audio: The Church Shares Cinematic and Glam Rock-like "No Other You" @thechurchband @commvess @reybee

Founded back in 1980, the Sydney-based ARIA Hall of Fame inductees The Church — currently founding member Steve Kilbey (vocals, bass, guitar); longtime collaborator and producer Tim Powles (drums), who joined the band in 1994 and has contributed to 17 albums; Ian Haug (guitar), a former member of Aussie rock outfit Powderfinger, who joined the band in 2013; multi-instrumentalist Jeffery Cain, a…

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kpopchangedme · 4 years ago

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Sun-drenched [M] - Youngjae

Every time you opened your mouth something outrageous came out but unfortunately, your new dorky step-brother seemed to be immune. You couldn’t tell if Youngjae was actually that clueless or if your reputation preceded you.

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: NSFW - Cringe Fest - Smut - slight exhibitionism - f*ckgirl - Stepbrother!au || [One Shot]

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

Your mother was doing that thing with her hair again, slightly shaking her head every time her new beau spoke. Every single bob invariably made her blonde curls spring. How disgusting. You had asked to be bleached once, a few years ago, and she had the audacity to claim it would look cheap on you. So unfair.

She hadn't met her fourth husband for more than 6 months before she did just that. She thought it made her look younger, but Miami-midlife-crisis was more like it. It wasn't pretty wheat blonde, it was white yellow-ish banana buttercream. On-sale daffodil... Much like the sad ones Youngnam had gotten her from the convenience store yesterday. They were now awaiting certain death in a crystal vase husband-number-two had gotten her for God knows what occasion.

You rolled your eyes when your latest stepfather started going over safety rules again. At your dad's there was never a need for them and if you correctly remembered the last time you had lived with your mom... You smiled, imagining how Dr. Top Surgeon would react if he found out his perfect church-going wife used to pop pills like candy and store a very impressive bong in the third drawer of her kitchen.

That would make for a fun scene.

The goodbyes seemed to stretch half an eternity in the living room, after which you got dragged to the hall where the speech began all over again. Your mom gave you a short hug, more of a shoulder squeeze, then she pulled back and frowned with intent as much as her botox allowed. You shrugged off her silent don't-screw-this-up warning, already waving goodbye to her husband. Shoo shoo, you thought, sending the adults off to a far far away location.

As soon as the door shut behind, you squealed in excitement.

Summer had officially begun!

Moving half across the country to fake “house sit” their new place while they honeymooned in Boca wasn't exactly what you had scheduled for your vacations. But when Youngnam accidentally let the words infinity pool and cars – as in with an S – slip out during the weekly video call, not even the dread on your mother’s face could’ve deterred you from flying over.

As it turns out, Dr. Choi was loaded.

Something you probably would’ve figured out earlier if you’d bothered showing up for the ceremony at all. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't matched your Spring Break’ schedule and you decided having been present to the many previous ceremonies should be considered enough daughterly care for a lifetime.

As you bent to the freezer for a celebratory parent-free popsicle, you felt the eyes of that gift-that-came-with-the-house glued to your ass. He briefly glanced down at the flash of your stomach’s skin when you jumped to sit on the counter.

Surprisingly enough, your mother’s many rings had never once come with a step-brother before...

Usually, she went for the bachelor or womanizer types and those had the decency to never have baggage. Dr. Choi was a break of pattern and the news came with complete horror on your part.

For as long as you could, you had made a duty of never meeting his son, pretended he didn't even exist. So when the bubbly blended trio came to pick you up at the airport yesterday, you had been shocked.

They had said soloist of the local Choir and you’d heard; loser. Piano lessons? Dork. All-boys school graduate? Stuck-up. Computer Science Major? Nerd alert.

No one had talked about… That.

As a matter of fact, Choi Youngjae himself had not spoken much either, but he was certainly looking...

And there were few things you enjoyed more than having a man's undivided attention.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen in all his glory, your new step-brother was staring, as usual, watching intently as you sucked your popsicle. You made sure to make a show of it.

“So… What about lunch?” He finally asked even though it was barely 9. Just to rattle him you hummed on the sugary treat as a reply. Mission accomplished. “S-Should I order pizza?”

“Don't worry, I’m easy...” Youngjae’s gaze fluttered down to your belly ring again. Boy, if he liked that one he had a few things coming. “I’ll eat anything if it's on you.”

Gaze widening, he pretended to look at something over in the living room and walked away.

Wait no, the poor guy literally bolted out of the kitchen to escape to safety. So fast one could wonder if this whole first exchange was the fruit of your devious imagination.

Oh no, you had just traumatized your babyish step-bro.

It made sense, you were one scary bitch.

All-boys school graduate? Virgin, you mentally took note.

Or perhaps your mom had said something about you devouring the souls of poor innocent men. They said the apple never fell far from the tree. Grinning like a shark, you discarded the melting popsicle in the trash.

This promised to be one Hell of a summer break.

______________________

“It’s been more than 10 minutes...” Chimlin flipped the phone over to yell unintelligibly at her demonic baby twin sisters. Despite the protection, you winced. “No DMs.”

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet.” Artlessly reporting for BFF’ duty was a lot more fun face to face, but for a few months, video calls would have to do. “Trust me.”

“I don't know,” she whined, going on all over again about how her boyfriend hadn’t picked up the phone since their nightly routine fight of yesterday.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d even follow her back on Insta if you met this current sad version of herself. Kinda hard to tell, but she used to be the coolest baddest chick on campus. Then she was partnered with that Italian exchange student for a Statistic class, disgustingly dripping pheromones, cash and European pizzazz. Yes, Statistics. The most boring course ever, let's be real. But Chimlin was a genius, the deadly hot kind. No matter how shit-faced she was, that girl could track the B-52s and Gin Tonics’ calorie count of each respective member of your girl squad, not that she'd ever had to care herself.

Then Massimo came. At first, he was just a casual hook-up, but he managed to worm his way into her brain and grew there like a tumour. By the end of last semester, they were full-on steady-going together like in cringy 90s rom-coms. He was always stuck to her like a parasite.

Gone was your favourite 4 feet 11 party animal.

“Do you have any idea how many bitches Mas could meet this summer?”

You snorted, “Not even close to the number of dicks you could have in Pattaya if you wanted to.”

“Phatthaya,” she corrected automatically with a dramatic eye-roll. “That’s the thing, I don't want to. I only want one dick and he's miles away.” She waved her hand to brush it off right as your mouth opened in protest.

Her Italian barnacle did want to remain with her on campus for summer, but Chimlin thought she had better plans that involved a lot more beaches and fruity drinks. She simply couldn't live with her own poor life choices now and you were just about to tell her so when a flash of skin on the screen distracted you.

“What else have you been hiding?” You sing-sang, impressed by the view.

She glanced over her shoulder, “That's my uncle. Like... He’s literally my mom’s lil’ brother. Gross.”

“I know what an uncle is and that's a very hot one if I’ve ever seen one. You can look.”

“We’re not all depraved sluts like you.” She only half-teased with a sharp laugh. “How's the cute new brother doing, by the way?”

“No idea.” You flipped the camera and zoomed on Youngjae's bedroom window like to prove a point. The curtains were drawn, concealing anything worth mentioning from view. You were lounging by the pool on one of those fancy long chairs, much as you had been for the past week. Margarita, sunscreen, repeat. If this boring routine went on, you’d be so tanned by the end of summer no one on campus would recognize you. Sometimes you did think Youngjae's curtains were wobbling, maybe he was spying on you but it could all be your imagination. “Typical. He's been in hiding from me since day one.”

“I don't blame him.”

“Don't blame me for wanting him either. He's a good boy in a bad boy’s body.”

“I don't even know what that means...”

“No one does. But he's not cute, he's hot. I need him all over me and I've been telling him so, but he's strangely elusive. I think he hits the gym above the grocery store on the corner, I should join.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t stalk, I live in his house.”

“No wonder the poor guy doesn't go out of that room, I bet he picked up on all your slutty energy.” In the rectangle screen, Chimlin switched to tan the other side and you did the same, laying on your back.

“Ha ha. He'd have to be moronic not to,” you were holding the phone above, casting a partial shadow on your face.

“Your legend precedes you. He's scared you're gonna trap and fuck him.”

“What else am I supposed to do when you've abandoned me and flew to the other side of the world? You know I need a summer project.”

“And of course, it had to be a guy.”

You were so glad she stopped whining about Mas for a minute that you let that one slide. “Well, I am not a needlepoint kind-of-girl.”

“Right, hey maybe it isn’t the incest that’s creeping your brother out. Maybe he's gay.”

Someone snorted out loud at that – not you – and you sat up in alarm.

Two guys were standing by the edge of the pool.

“No, he's not,” said the one on the left, a smile in his voice. They were directly in your sun, so you had trouble making out their features. One silhouette was slightly slumped, the other tall and all limbs. You suddenly felt very exposed, dropping Chimlin to fasten your bikini top in a hurry. This show wasn't for strangers to enjoy.

“Who are you?” The second man asked, clearly lost.

“She's it,” the other echoed.

“Who are you? I live here.”

“We're your brother's social life,” the frisky one smiled largely, kind of in a dangerous way that you immediately recognized for your own. Friends, they were Youngjae's friends and they very clearly overheard your embarrassing banter with Chimlin.

Flushing – a rare occurrence – you brought a hand to shield your eyes from the sun while you corrected; “Step-br–”

A sharp voice cut in, “She's not my sister.”

Behind, Youngjae was standing awkwardly by the patio door, a stern look on his face. He didn't seem surprised his people were there. He didn't even glance in your direction before disappearing back as you blankly stared after him.

“Well, thank fuck,” the you-guy turned to wink, following him inside. “Good luck with your summer project! I’ll root for you!”

In a daze, you picked your phone back up. Chimlin was still there, waiting dilligently to be briefed on what just transpired. You puffed your cheeks, mentally preparing for what was to come.

______________________

Swear to God, Youngjae had not come out of that room for two days.

Two.

Fricking.

Days.

Maybe he had a fridge in there.

Maybe he only came to life after midnight like a vampire to avoid the whore squatting his dad’s house.

Whatever his annoying friends told him had certainly made a lasting impression. You just hoped he wasn't the type to go cry to parents whenever something happened. You had no intention of going back to your tiny dorm all alone and sad for the summer just because you hurt his feelings by finding him bangable. Or worse, at your father's.

What was he even thinking?

You had not done anything wrong. Pushed a bad joke a little bit too far perhaps, nothing to get all worked up about. No reason to get shunned out of your mother's life again.

Youngjae's reaction, or lack thereof, was way out of line.

It's not like you had actually done anything to him. He was such a prude. A prude that eye-fucked you all the time!

Church baby boys were the worst.

What an ass.

Three days?!

Three days of an overly empty house. The atmosphere had gotten so heavy, the air so tense you couldn't even think about anything else. There was nothing left to do. Just sit on the couch inside or by that dumb infinity pool, starring at the drawn curtains of your step-brother's bedroom. They weren't wobbling anymore.

Which was what you were actively doing this afternoon, ruminating your dark thoughts for hours. You didn't even notice you were getting dangerously warmer. When your timer went off, announcing it was sunscreen time again you nearly fell from your chair.

Doing the legs was the easiest part, your favourite to be honest. They were one hell of an asset of yours. You were massaging the thick lotion on your right calf when something at the corner of your eye caught your attention.

For a heartbeat or two, you thought you were hallucinating.

Youngjae had finally reappeared.

He was standing at the end of the pool, a knapsack thrown over his shoulders. His thumbs were hooked in the straps, hands dangling to his sides like dead weights. If he looked like a young boy at first glance, the heated look on his face was one of a man.

Frozen still, you gulped. True to form, he kept staring for a long moment before turning to the house and you thought he was about to go into hiding again – but oh no, fuck – he was actually pacing towards you.

“I’m back.” Youngjae blurted out awkwardly, mouth twisted.

Yours was opened in a mix of disbelief and shock. He was actually addressing you. “Back?” From where the corner store?

“Yes,” his eyes ghosted over your poor excuse of a bikini before anchoring themself back to safety in yours. Again, horny eyes. If you were warm earlier, now you were burning up. “I thought it'd be better if I stayed away at Bam's for a few days…”

Right? No one could actually stay between four walls so dilligently. It made sense. You were so dumb.

Apparently, your confusion was evident. “Didn’t you notice I was gone?” No, you had not. So your step-brother was so freaked out being around you that he actually moved out for a few days. Had you gotten that bad? Jesus. “Anyway, I’m back home with you now.”

Youngjae took a step closer, kindly getting in your light so you'd stop squinting at him. He looked even hotter in the bright light of day, sweat pearled between your breasts. He frowned and bit his lower lip waiting for a reaction. The things you'd do to that perfectly proper mouth.

Of course, what came out of yours at the moment was less than appropriate. He was right to be scared, you weren't safe at all.

“Wanna do me?”

Yes, you were that bad. Terrible indeed.

“Do I-I,” he gasped for air – oops, “w-what?”

“My back,” you clarified smiling like a prisoner that hadn't been fed a good meal in days, “sunscreen.” The poor man should've stayed far far away from you.

You weren’t crazy or desperate, but you couldn't resist. You had been patient and unusually upright so far. You deserved a treat. You were hungry and you knew your step-brother wanted you too, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide away otherwise. Youngjae had an interesting duality, shamelessly thirsting over you one minute and getting flustered and embarrassed the next. He must have been deeply unsettled by your open invitation because before you could flip over, he had claimed possession of the bottle.

Or maybe he just didn't need to be asked twice this time. He knew. He wanted to give in to temptation. Why would he even come back here otherwise?

Laying down, you reached to undo the bikini strings, pressing your loosely covered chest against the rough towel on the chair. You waited.

“You must really hate tan lines,” Youngjae said in your back, sounding tormented, “it seems you're never properly wearing clothes.” He sat down in slow motion like an obedient little boy as you grinned.

“Are you ever gonna put your hands on me?” You teased once more, it was like a string was tugging up your insides through that dirty mouth of yours. You wanted to keep pushing him, wanted to find out what it'd take to make him break. And just fuck you really. It was fighting the inevitable by now.

Every guy you met wanted to have you.

Usually, you didn't have to beg.

“I'm trying not to,” he admitted the obvious. “I promised I would never touch you,” Youngjae grumbled and you jerked in surprise when lotion spurted on your lower back. “Promised my father I’d treat you well.”

It made sense, a good boy would never disobey and do his dirty step-sister. If your legend preceded you, his golden son’s reputation certainly did too. Honestly, this promise made the taunting easier and even more tempting. It made for a funnier challenge and the spark in Youngjae's eyes when he looked at you hinted you could break him if you really tried.

You were about to defy his ethics again when words went back down your throat, letting way to a sharp sigh. He had suddenly fully committed to applying your sunscreen, fingers exploring your skin. You asked to be touched and he had risen to the occasion, firmly rubbing the lotion on your naked back.

Earlier you had every intention of teasing him further by enjoying this a little too much, but you weren’t sure it was entirely voluntary when the first moan escaped. If he wanted to keep it PG, he probably should’ve stopped right there, but it didn't seem to deter your step-brother. He kept going, massaging you along the way. His thumbs traced circles up your spine until one of his palms cupped your nape.

Perhaps this is what an erotic massage was supposed to feel like, heaven. Every stroke was totally appropriate, very perfect boy-ish, but still, your toes were curling. After a few minutes, Youngjae's breathing was heavy, he was enjoying this impromptu contact just as much.

You both had made yourselves obvious these past weeks; him with the eye-fucking, you with the open-truths. Clearly, the forbidden nature of your desires would make for an even more intense experience. You couldn't even imagine how it'd feel to take it further now.

“I've never had a step-brother before,” you mewled, mentally following the downwards path of his hands.

“I bet you love messing with me,” he replied, barely audible.

His pianist’s fingers were now haltingly sliding up your ribcage. He wasn't rubbing in anything anymore, just caressing all he could reach.

He was right, but you wanted more. That was the sexiest thing that happened to you in forever. Having a guy want you bad enough he had to hide away to resit, and now having his hands on you. You wanted him everywhere, all over. You didn’t care; step-brother promises or not.

Giving in to temptation, you turned around, resting on your elbow. Your untied bikini had not followed so you watched as his face fell in realization. Youngjae's mouth opened in awe, eyes glued to your bare perky breasts. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing going on in that male brain of his. He didn’t move; you helped.

As soon as you put one of his hands on your chest, he came back to life.

“Jesusfuck,” he breathed out, completely winded.

Wow.

Church baby boys were the best.

Entertained, you reached for the sunscreen, pouring lotion on yourself again. “You aren't done.”

“I…” Youngjae swallowed back his protests, cupping your boobs with both hands. He couldn't even look up anymore, enthralled by your nakedness.

No matter what their intentions were, it seemed good guys were still guys after all. If you had known he was this easy to overwhelm, you would’ve walked around topless sooner.

“The neighbours will see us...”

He didn't seem to mind that much, seeing as his thumbs were stroking your pierced nipples relentlessly. If those middle-aged housewives you only caught glimpses off looked over the edge now, they’d have a pretty impressive show.

“Let them,” sitting, you snaked a hand to his dramatic bulge. Your mouths got so close you felt his breath ghost over. Beaten by your expertise, his shorts’ button came undone first, his fly was even more compliant.

The moment of truth.

Youngjae's whole body shook when you took his cock in your palm. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fuck, he was so hard and flushed for you. He pinched your erected nipples in response and you felt a familiar vivid jolt of pleasure and pain down to your toes. Not a virgin, after all, no doubt he would handle you just fine.

You pressed your mouth to his neck and sucked, right where his Adam's apple bobbed.

That's it, all for you. You were so going to eat up that good boy.

“Mmmm, I’ll tell daddy you’re treating me so fucking well...”

Of all the filthy things you had said so far, this was the one that got the strongest reaction. The wrong one. Youngjae jerked up to his feet, tugging at his shorts in panic. He swore a dozen of times, out of his mind as you stood there, frozen still.

“Sorry,” he offered at last, pitiful before running for his life to the house.

Fuck.

No.

Surely you were feverish.

Having a heatstroke.

You had imagined the whole thing.

You had not just being left out cold by a man.

This type of shit never happened to girls like you.

It took a few minutes to gather back your thoughts and when you did, you decided this wasn't even close to completion.

Without wasting a second more you stormed inside the house, almost flying upstairs to that mythical off-limits bedroom of his. You didn't bother banging, he was in such a hurry he forgot to lock behind, so the door flew open.

Like a scene straight up from a bad porno, Youngjae spun on his computer chair, a hand still wrapped around his fully erected dick. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Are you jerking off?” He was already pulling up his shorts again to cover himself, caught red-handed, blushing as though you hadn't been doing it yourself a moment ago.

“I’m sorry, I don't think you–”

“Please don't stop on my behalf,” you waltzed in, confident, and sat on his well-made good boy's bed.

“W-What?” Youngjae blinked, even more, rattled by the sight.

He didn't leave because he didn't want you, he clearly did. He probably only left because of his father and that dumb promise he mentioned.

“Is this how you've been dealing all along?” You laid back on the comforter, smirking and remembering all those afternoons by the pool you’d thought you’d seen his curtains fall. He certainly enjoyed spying so it gave you an idea. He could try to resist you all he wanted, you'd still made him cave. “You don't want to touch me, right?” Your step-brother nodded, spellbound. “Because you're the perfect son.”

He swallowed hard, “But you keep… Saying those things, sunbathing… And to my friends...”

“Yes, you’re right... So let's start over.” You sighed in fake contrition, “I'm sorry, I've made this so hard for you. I’ll be good too from now on.”

Youngjae scoffed in disbelief, “You are sitting topless on my bed.”

“Oh,” looking down at yourself, you cupped your breasts. “I thought you liked the looking.” His cock was standing up, glorious testimony to this mess. “Don't worry, I get it. I promise I won’t let you touch me...” Throwing your head back without breaking eye contact, you moaned and lightly twisted one of your pierced nipples. “But I’ll make you watch...” Out of his mind, Youngjae did just that as you caressed your own chest for him. Somehow his eyes on you now burned even better than his hands earlier.

You were so turned on, so worked up by all the days of teasing and loneliness. Your hips started swaying on his bed, craving some fiction and release.

“You're crazy,” his voice was laboured but he had yet to escape again. This time you wouldn't have followed.

“I-I'm so wet, Youngjae...” Giving in, your right hand fell to your sex, rubbing your last piece of clothing. He was captivated.

“Fuck it,” he immediately breathed out in surrender, hand wrapping around his dick. That was it, you finally had him. He was all in, playing along with your new favourite family game.

No touching, just innovative teamwork.

You had to establish ground rules, but pushing them was what fun was all about.

“I want you so bad...” You mewled, slipping your middle finger inside your bikini bottom.

Stroking himself, Youngjae groaned, “So you’ve been saying baby, but now you have to show me.”

Oh shit. You were going to come so fast if the golden son had other surprises like that. In a hurry, you wormed out of your panties before he could change his mind once more. In front of his fully clothed self, you laid back, touching your damp slit while he observed intently. The whole experience was surreal, your mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all.

It felt so amazing though.

Touching yourself for your step-brother was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced, and you were very accomplished. You would’ve done anything he'd asked of you, and Youngjae knew that but he abided by his dumb rules. Standing up he came closer, boxer messily shoved down from his earlier haste, one hand was in his hair, the other working hard. You kept rubbing your clit repeatedly letting him see, hastening the pace until you were numb all over, panting.

“Youngj-jae, I-I–”

Moaning, you broke faster than you had ever with someone, then again no one knew how to make you reach your own high better than yourself. Paroxysm made your thighs jerked as the pleasure waved through you, annihilating all sense of your surroundings.

When you came back, your step-brother was giving up too, bursting in thick spurts of hot cum all over your body and chest. His eyes were wide opened in black elation, intense, not missing a second of the show as he came on you. His whitish-gray seed painted your bareness in ribbons until he was completely emptied.

In silence, Youngjae dropped next to you on the bed, hands covering his face as you both caught your breaths. His now softening dick was still protruding out of his shorts and underwear for the world to see. It probably made for quite a view; your naked body covered in semen right by your respectable step-brother’s way more humble cock.

If your parents came home early, they would both have a stroke.

Youngjae sort of kept his word though... For today at least.

Because now that you had him all over, you knew you were going to crave him under you.

And no man had ever resisted your charms before.

Step-brother or not.

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

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keemeekaal · 5 years ago

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♡ I Don't Know How I Don't Know Why

• i don't know how i don't know why by The Church + @afleshfesten & @lianaross

#the church #i don't know how i don't know why #man woman life death infinity #2017 #music #href=#j&k sounds

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crazygreatwords · 5 years ago

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Monster Mat v2

Fandoms: Escape The Night Warnings: past character death, corruption, plus the usual ETN stuff AN: this is a separate universe from the Lazarus AU. I started this as a varation from the Monster Mat theme, with Lazarus being “the thing that comes back from the dead isn’t Mat” and with this being “Mat comes back from the dead but is corrupted by it”. Actual characters AU. This is an unfinished fanfic, even if it doesn’t seem for the first part, it’s not betaread and it has notes in the middle of this. More info here. Characters: Mat, Ro, the rest of the cast is there too Summary: Mat comes back from the dead ao3

Mat looks at the church. Is the same one they saw from the distance, just outside the city. He can see two figures in front of it, standing like guards. They look like a man and a woman, dressed in what seems some kind of brown uniform.

Mat tries to approach them, but he's stopped by a voice. He turns and there's a beast in front of him, horns sprouting from his head and grey skin. In his chest a glowing gem.

Mat listen to what he says, and it makes sense. He reaches out to the instrument that the monster is holding out, a music faintly echoing around him.

The second he touches the Harp a red smoke comes out of it, and he screams.

----

Mat stumbles and grabs a table just in time to avoid falling face first on the floor.

He can hear commotion in the other room and soon enough Ro and the others are all coming to make sure he's okay.

He's back.

He doesn't know how but he's back.

He knows he isn't dead anymore because everything looks so defined, everything feels so solid.

The others help him sit down on the couch, but the second nobody isn't touching him anymore he realises that he missed them so much. He missed feeling stuff.

He immediately gets up again and proceeds to hug every single one of his friends, thigly, to make sure that they're here, they're real. They're alive. He's alive.

A new wave of drowsiness hits him and Safiya, who he's currently hugging, helps him back down on the couch.

Ro immediately plop down next to him and smiles at him, offering back his badge. He gladly takes it back, and uses the opportunity to lean again against Ro, trying to get as much human contact as he can. He had always been a huggy person, but being dead for a couple of hours left him needing even more human warmth.

Nikita grabs everyone attention and immediately get everyone working on the new clue. Mat doesn't mind the distraction. He's happy to be back.

----

Joey at one point asks out of nothing: "So, if you're okay talking of it, how was- you know, death?"

Memories flash. The church, the people.

"You weren't lying. There was the church, the one outside the city. And there were two persons, a man and a woman."

"Did they give you a contract too? How did you came back."

Mat thinks hard about it. He's in front of the church, standing on grass. The fog doesn't let him see any other building around. At the front door, a table with a bag and a piece of paper on it. At its sides, a man and a woman, dressed in similar clothing. The Society Against Evil, Joey had said.

Mat tries to move towards them and then-

And then what? He can't remember. He tries to think. What did bring him back to life?

"There was a faint music, I think?" He says, unsure.

The others look at each other. "The Harp!"

They explain to him how they found the other coin, and when they opened the box they found the instrument that brought him back. Joey points to where the Harp is standing, and Mat has one of the strongest DejaVu he ever had.

He's sure he as already seen that harp somewhere...

----

//Blackout, after a second Mat can see in the dark. The light comes out too quickly for him to question it.

----

//Someone is corrupted, and Mat just knows that Calliope is lying.

//"Do you feel funny?"

"Wha-" He starts to answer but he feels something cut him off. He pushes it back down "Why do you think it's me?"

LIELIELIELIE

I'm not lying, I'm not on the Carnival Master's side

Only thinking it hurts, so he just lets the thought drop to focus on the matter of hand

----

Screaming felt good. He screamed at Nikita and Nikita screamed back, and it felt so good to let his anger target someone. He screamed and screamed and would have kept screaming, but Joey put himself between then to stop the fight.

That's when Mat realised that it wasn't normal. Nikita had only done what she could to stay alive, he had done the same against Manny during the Stongman's challenge. She couldn't know that that would kill Safiya. No one could know. And yet, it had felt so good to scream at someone with the intention to hurt them. Mat passed an hand through his hair. He had never felt so aggressive towards someone. What had gotten into him?

----

//Mat steps out for a while to think. His arms are twitchy and so are his cheeks, plus the whole "I can see in the dark" thing happens again.

//He goes back and searches for a mirror, and notices that his eyes are yellowish and that he's starting to look sick: his skin is slightly yellowish too and his eye bags and lids are starting to turn black. He blames it on dying and hopes that the glasses will hide it.

//I guess there goes a challenge here, four people left

//As the night progresses Mat realises that he's getting worse. Not only his physical aspect, but also his mood. He's always ready to attack someone and he's starting to lose his temper more and more. The worst part is that he enjoys it when the others are hurt by his words.

//He found out the twitching was something growing under his skin. Which of course freaked him out. Not enough to tell the others yet, making him need to hide it even more. But he tried to pluck the small feathers growing on his arm, and it hurt like hell, so for the moment they stay.

//Something keeps telling him to take the Harp and hide it, every time they get to the lounge. Mat doesn't understand what it is. He knows that it's the same instinct that makes him attack the others, the same instinct that tells him when something is true and something is false. It's starting to hurt more when he says something false.

//The feathers on his cheeks are starting to come out, but they still seem small enough that he can cover it with his glasses.

His eyes are now completely yellow, with some wisps of red irling into them. He tried to look in the mirror in the dark, and the pupils almost drowned the whole eye. That explained the night vision at least.

His skin is way too pale now, his eyes and cheeks a bit too sunken. He hopes that the others won't notice, in the dark of the night. In the lounge it's a bit more difficult to hide but he can always blame it on the whole dying thing. He hopes that the others won't draw parallels to Joey, looking alive and fresh even after weeks of coming out of his tomb.

Mat passes his hands over the few plumes growing on his face. He can't see the feathers very well yet, small as they are, but he knows that they're going to be the same brown as his hair, with some flecks of yellow at the base, the same colour as the ones that grew on his arm. (He's glad they stopped, they're still short enough to be hidden under the jacket without breaking them. He already found out that it hurt and he would not like to repeat the experience.)

He's still examining his face when he sees with the corner of his eye the door open. He jumps, scared and surprised, and he's face to face with Ro, who had just entered.

She's looking at him, the room small and well lit letting her see him clearly. Mat's aviators lie forgotten on the small counter near the mirror.

Ro stays still for a couple of seconds, shocked, while Mat panics.

"Mat-" she starts, and he can't tell if she's scared or angry or horrified and that worries him.

"I can explain" he interrupts her, holding his hands out. His new lie-detector let's him know that he can't, making a small fit of pain shot through his body, but he needs to do some damage control quickly before she goes out there and tells the others.

"What happened to you? Are you okay?"

//Mat and Ro talk, Mat lets it all out and cries a little, Ro is the best mama bear ever

//they go back to the others and Ro helps him cover (even if it hurts to lie to the others, both emotionally and physically for Mat). They go on with the challenges.

//here's another challenge. Three people left. Time for the confrontation

//aka Mat is losing his fight against his new monster-self/whatever you wanna call it. Uuuh climax of the story? Mat has hidden the thing to cleanse his artifact sometime before, only that he didn't realise he did. So now they're looking for the last thing and Mat is trying to help them while also trying to keep control of himself. Of course they manage to find it, just in time for Mat to lose against the monster. Final confrontation against Monster Mat (without the challenge bc they already have the purifier)(Joey still can't die and I'm not killing Ro). Bam purification and Mat has some final moments of clarity before dying. His body turns to dust. Infinity War's soundtrack starts playing

#unfinished fics

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lexiseigneur · 5 years ago

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Chapter twenty-two: The valley of the shadow of death

Ao3

The Master listened to the voices of his many children. He floated in the infinity of his mind and observed the lanterns which were the souls he had collected. Never had they been so numerous and he swayed gently in the symphony of their whispers. When he spread his crimson presence, he saw through their eyes at will. Thomas had delivered delicious news. In a few moments, he would have the pleasure of drinking yet another of the Invictus’ loved ones. This prospect made the worms rush faster under his colorless skin. And when her light would join those in his mind, he would know of ways to find the Born and finally kill him.

A voice beckoned the Master and he focused on that child. It was in pain but that was not the reason it had called out. The Born was there, punching and kicking at his progeny. When the Master plunged into the soul of this child, the Born ceased his brutality.

“Can you see me through it?” He said and grabbed Strigoi whose irises glowed red.

“Have you come to find me, Invictus?”

The son’s eyes were wide and the usual defiance was gone. That was intriguing.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

The Strigoi was a mere ragdoll in his grasp. The despair in his voice was music to the Master’s ears. He laughed through the borrowed mouth.

“Ha…my son. Always too late to save those you cherish. Today will not be an exception.”

The Born let go of the Strigoi. Panic as the Master had never seen on that face pierced through.

“No! Not her!”

“Her…just like the others. Do not fret for she will live on within me. Maybe you will get to meet that new version of her.”

“Take me instead,” said the Born.

The Master gasped in pleasure when the blue eyes had turned glassy.

“What are you proposing, Born?”

“Take my life, but let her go. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot bear to have her die because of me.”

It was too good to be true. The body he borrowed twitched and approached the son.

“The Invictus…the Unconquerable… wishes to be conquered?”

The Born’s face lit up with hope.

“Yes! Take it! Take my body but leave her,” he begged.

The Master purred lowly and worms rushed his flesh in excitement. That submission…it was the sweetest of all. It tasted better than the blood of the Born’s families. This idea made him ache with sudden desire. The proposal was something he had never considered before. The Master currently occupied an unimpressive form, taken out of necessity, not choice. On the other hand, the Born’s body was powerful and eternal. In this instant, the Master never desired to inhabit a shell more than this one. Yes…And the woman who was now flying to him would serve as the first meal he would consume with that new body. It all fits so beautifully.

The Master summoned his children to join him. He had to be sure that the Invictus would not have the opportunity to change his mind and escape. Especially when faced with the realization that the woman would not be freed. The prospect of crushing that hope was also marvelous.

“Follow that Strigoi but…leave your weapons.”

He wanted the Born disarmed. Not because he was afraid of his blades or bullets but as a confirmation of his submission. Without hesitation, the son shed his automatic weapons and a small silver knife from his pocket. The bone sword was on its way with the woman and the Master would enjoy possessing it. As a keepsake symbolizing his total victory. The Born followed the Strigoi through the streets of New York and into Central Park. Amongst the skyscrapers, the townhouses, and the churches, the Master’s many children gathered to witness and assist in the joyous event.

Waves rippled on the Turtle pond under the pressure of the helicopter’s blades. The aerial vehicle landed near the waters, on the scene of the Delacorte theatre whose seats had once been green but had accumulated too much grime to let their original color through. Surrounding the amphitheater and the lake were dead trees with the occasional evergreen which had survived so far. On a rocky hill overlooking the pond, the grey stones of the Belvedere castle waited. It was a shame that such a beautiful place should become the scene of such violence.

“I have just arrived and the Master is here,” said Quinlan.

His voice was always clear, even with the crippling loudness of the helicopter. As soon as the engine stopped, Amir took out his weapon and sat next to the pilot who raised his hands when he spotted the gun.

“You stay here and keep an eye on the pilot but don’t hurt him. We might as well fly away from here once we have the worm but also…”

It was hard to say those words.

“If we fail, you’ll have a way to escape.”

Amir chin jutted forward but his gaze stayed on the pilot. Raul’s heartbeat was almost too loud as he grabbed her elbow.

“Don’t say shit like this, Lex,” said Raul.

His voice was almost steady. They kept quiet as they walked through the amphitheater and on the path leading to the stairs of the castle. At the bottom of those stairs they stopped, and Raul reached inside his pocket briefly. It contained the remote to activate the jamming devices. Both swords were tucked in his belt. Then as if finally finding the courage to do so, he held tighter on Lexi’s arm and dragged her up the stairs. At this moment, because she was also terrified, she was proud of him. He did not have the advantage of inhuman strength or speed but still, he climbed on. The top of the stairs was surmounted by a cover and as soon as they crossed it, Lexi was sick to her stomach.

A silhouette towered over a kneeling Quinlan. It wore a flowing coat with a deep hood and from across the large terrace, it reeked of blood and ammonia. Strange, rushing noise like that of a small stream filled her ears and with a heave of disgust, she realized it came from the multitude of worms crawling through his body. When the black hole of the hood turned to her and two red coals stared, Lexi knew they had made a mistake.

As they stepped closer, the struggling away from Raul’s grip stemmed less and less from acting and more from her fear. Stepping into the glow of Quinlan’s soul had been going home. This was stepping into a tar pit. Her body shook but she allowed Raul to pull her closer to the abomination. The man stank of adrenaline. This plan is stupid. We are all going to die. In her breast pocket, she carried the cyanide pill and she wanted to take it out. To have it ready.

She only calmed because the Master turned back to Quinlan but not before her Dhampir eyes saw through the shadows of his hood. His skin moved with the rushing of worms and his nose and lips were shrunken and black. Even in her nightmares, she had not imagined this.

Lexi needed to take a hold on herself. But she could not reach for the dark room in her mind. “Lexi, look at me. I am with you.”

Quinlan stared from under his smooth brow. She focused on his eyes and on how much she trusted and loved him. Even as his gaze shifted away, his strengthening presence stayed in her. The Master held out a hand to Quinlan. The middle finger was long and curved like a talon and on his palm rested a pile of black soil.

“Eat it.”

Quinlan obeyed with an expressionless face.

“Now let her go. As you promised,” he said then wiped at his mouth.

“First…you must say your goodbyes, Born.”

His long middle finger pulled Quinlan’s chin up and made him stand up. Raul tensed next to her though he could not possibly perceive the Master as she did, with the stench and corruption of his soul. They both startled when a man appeared in front of them. She had not noticed his presence so far. He was insignificant next to the Master.

Under the smell of make-up and clean clothes, there was the distinctive acidic tang of a Strigoi. Eichhorst sniffed the air in her direction like a dog and smiled savagely. As if to confirm what she already knew, his third eyelid blinked over artificial blue eyes. He took the two swords from Raul tucked them under his mutilated arm.

“I will take it from here…” he said with a marked German accent. “You…”- he looked at Raul - “Away.”

He made a dismissive gesture of the hand then grabbed her by the elbow. Gunshots exploded in the distance. Lexi’s ears twitched as she encompassed the sounds of the park. Hundreds of Strigoi snarled and growled amongst the dead trees and further away still, there were the screams of human beings. The horde grew closer and their screeching rang clear in the night. Raul’s heart jumped violently. How long would the different teams last around Central Park if they had to face an army? Raul had reached the same conclusion but did not have the presence of mind to first leave the terrace. He fumbled for his pocket and Eichhorst’s attention shifted from Lexi to him. He scowled.

His stinger flew and almost connected with Raul’s neck. Almost. She pushed the human out of the way and he rolled on the stone floor, stunned. Lexi punched the Strigoi’s chin and his teeth sunk into his own flesh. He screeched and the swords fell as he held onto his mangled stinger. Raul was crawling away, toward the small box which had flown out of his grasp and onto the stone tiles. Shit.

She faced Eichhorst whose stinger had returned to his throat. She could not let him get to Raul or the switch. Eichhorst’s face was covered with white blood and worms. The swords lay behind him, inaccessible to her. Nictitating membranes covered her eyes in anticipation and with a quick jerk of her arms, she snapped the chain binding her wrists. Time slowed as she wound up her muscles.

Quinlan was now struggling with the Master, attempting to keep his attention on him. He was giving them time.

Lexi pounced toward Eichhorst who also charged her. That Strigoi was quicker than any other she had met. But her speed was unmatched. She jumped and his arms closed on empty air. Lexi landed on his back and grabbed at his head. His only hand closed on the balaclava and fabric tore around her neck. With a crack both his neck and her hood gave way. In the glow of the surrounding lamps, her silver hair gleamed.

The Master shrieked and slammed Quinlan down on the stones. They fractured from the impact.

Eichhorst fell under her, dead and Lexi jumped toward the swords. The Master swatted her and she flew across the terrace and slammed into a wall. Even with her Dhampir eyes, she could not follow his movements. He had seen her and the devices had not yet been activated. That was if there still any of the machines left.

Quinlan struggled up and rushed but the abomination was faster. Faster than Lexi by a wide margin. The hooded beast leaned above her and the stink at this distance was almost physical.

“First Invictus? My daughter?”

A misshapen hand closed on her small neck and the Master stared at her face. His voice was full of the rush of worms and the vibrations of his throat. Quinlan was almost onto them but two Strigoi connected with him and they rolled away in a mess of limbs and snarls. All around, creatures swarmed.

“You are not the First or the Fourth…”

The fingers tightened. She couldn’t breathe.

“I know your face. It’s impossible.”

In the corner of her eye, she spied Raul reaching the switch. Her cervical bones were about to snap like matches. Lexi looked into the glowing red eyes and smiled.

A buzzing sound rose in her mind.

The Master heaved and his stinger hung from his open mouth, useless. Around her neck, the vice-like hold unclenched and she pried his hand off. Needing to catch her breath, she kicked the Master away from her before falling to her knees and coughing. Quinlan had already picked up both swords which he swung at the Master unsuccessfully.

Lexi jumped to her feet and caught the handle of the wolf-headed sword that Quinlan tossed at her. Side by side, they faced the thing that had plagued her nightmares since she had learned of its existence. On the terrace and the towers, Strigoi stood like statues. Raul was nowhere to be seen and that made her breathe more easily.

“Your duplicity will finally bring about your end,” said Quinlan.

The stinger returned to the shadows of the Master’s hood and the red coals of his glare shone momentarily brighter. The buzzing sound decreased in intensity.

“My special children will soon take care of this…inconvenience.”

The Master twitched violently and despite his obvious discomfort, grinned. Lexi felt Quinlan tense and when she glanced, his face was contorted in revulsion.

“Now!,” said Quinlan.

They flew with weapons forward. Although weakened, the abomination was still incredibly quick. It avoided the metal over and over again. Time slowed for the three dancers. And to humans eyes, they were probably little more than blurs.

“I will give you an opening…strike him!” said Quinlan.

There it was. Their chance. Silver sang as it rushed toward the white skin. That skin turned a healthy human pink and her stab landed short. Stephan stared at her through rimless glasses.

“What are you doing, Lexi? Don’t you love me anymore?”

Her eyes bulged. What was he doing here? Where was the Master? Her stance lost its steadiness as she stared into the dark blue eyes. He stepped closer and the irises turned crimson.

“LEXI!” roared Quinlan.

His hand clasped on her shoulder and hauled her back. Not quite fast enough. Sharp claws had sunk into her core. She rolled on the stone and her sword fell a step away. Lexi struggled to lift herself on her elbows. The injury was deep. Too deep. She was convinced that without Quinlan’s intervention, she would have been torn in half. You fucking moron. With fingers slippery from her milky blood, she undid her belt and tied it firmly above the five stab wounds. It hurt impossibly and she was nauseated. Her entire body shook fiercely but steadied when the Master pounced on Quinlan. White blood splattered the floor and Quinlan retreated, standing close to her. Three gouges marked his face and fury filled Lexi’s chest. Her body burned from her anger and from the cuts in her flesh.

“Do not let him get to you again. He can make you see things!” said Quinlan.

When she tried to stand, agony sent her back down on the stones. Their injuries oozed pearly blood while the abomination stood, intact.

“I saw Stephan.”

Quinlan nodded.

“Yes, and now I see Tasa. How badly injured are you?”

“We will have to make this very quick,” she said and forced herself on her feet. The pain sent bright flashes in her vision.

Quinlan glanced at the blood spreading on her shirt and pants. Despite the pressure of her belt, she still bled profusely. She would not last long. But it did not matter because her end would come soon either way. Lexi just needed time to finish this battle. She needed him to remove her pain so she could fight. The buzzing decreased in intensity yet again.

The Master laughed and advanced slowly toward his wounded prey. He removed his hood and Lexi forced herself to stare away from his nightmare of a visage. The beast blocked the glow of a lamp and as he approached, his shadow engulfed both Dhampir.

“I need you to take some of my pain. When I reach for your soul, do not block me,” said Lexi.

He stepped between her and the Master.

“Hurry.”

She did not want this but there was no choice. When he had taken her grief, for a short moment it had felt like death. It had been oblivion. But now, it did not matter if they lost themselves into one another. She plunged inside her mind quicker than she had ever done before. As soon as her consciousness floated in the lightless space, she pounced on Quinlan’s soul. Vaguely, she could still perceive the Master and his shadow growing darker. Death was coming. The cocoon’s shell melted and she sighed in relief because his warmth was so very soothing.

“Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me,”

She thought as the warmth turned into searing heat. Her mind disappeared once more.

The Master leaned forward with a revolting smirk.

Their faces hardened and an eerie glow appeared around their irises. They could see through two pairs of eyes because at that very moment they belonged to the same entity.

They grinned when the pain subsided and Lexi’s body stood without impediment. The Master stared in bemusement at their eyes burning with the icy light. A guttural growl shook both Dhampir’s chests and they adopted symmetrical stances.

“It ends now,” they said.

This time, they flew as one, moved by the same desire for revenge. Moved by their love for those the Master had stolen and so that others would be spared that fate. Under this coordinated and unrelenting assault, the Master lost ground. Since they had become two parts of the same being, fainting and trapping was a trivial matter. The Master could not anticipate their manoeuvers.

His back was almost to the low wall surrounding the terrace and before he could jump off and disappear, both blades darted toward his throat. The clawed fingers closed on each of their wrists but the impetus of their movement forced him down on a knee. Like scissors, the blades crossed just before the red folds of his neck. He was stronger than each of them even as they held onto their swords with both hands. They grunted with the effort it took to push the blades toward his skin. The Master was slowly pushing them away from him and as he did, he sneered at their inferior strength.

It was impossible to determine where the idea for their next move originated. At this instant, they only had one mind. Both their jaws dropped open. Two stingers flew toward the Master’s head. His face contorted with the realization that he had lost. Four talons grabbed at the skull and violently pulled toward the crossed blades. The Master’s head flew above their shoulders and landed on the dark stones. Thin worms poured out and they observed intently.

There was the crack of a gunshot. With a sudden snap, Lexi found herself again and with her consciousness regaining its uniqueness, the searing in her core made her yelp miserably. Quinlan held his shoulder and white blood shone on his dark coat. Confused, they peered around and spotted two figures just inside the building. One was a young human boy, the other a Strigoi with a ridiculous maid accoutrement. The human held a rifle and was aiming at Lexi. Without Quinlan taking away her pain, she knew she would not be able to run. It was a struggle to remain standing. The fight had worsened the injury. Her companion snarled and sped to their new assailants. Eyes wide, the sapient Strigoi ran away but the boy did not have the benefit of unnatural speed. Quinlan tore the weapon from his grip and his stinger closed around the small neck.

“Do not kill him,” said Lexi.

“I believe this is the Goodweather boy, he deserves that fate.”

“It’s over. No one needs to die now. Please.”

When Quinlan let go of the unconscious boy, his heart still beat. She shifted her focus back to the severed head. Lexi took out the coffin from her pocket and opened it. From the cut cervical, the rope-like creature crawled out. The motions were wrong, it did not slide, it spiraled in her direction.

“Pathetic,” she whispered.

She coughed in the crook of her elbow and ignored the blood this had left there. Quinlan stood beside her and also observed the laborious progression of their vanquished enemy. Carefully, he grabbed the crimson worm behind its mouth. Lexi presented the metal box to him. His face impassible, he dropped the Master on the silver. The beast convulsed and a shrill joined the faint buzzing in her mind. Moonlight shone on the crimson worm a last time before its final journey.

Quinlan’s shoulder twinged but he could bear it. As he would bear the numerous contusions in his back and the cuts on his face. Lexi closed the box and the Master’s scream died down. Quinlan took the radio out of his pocket. It was shattered and unusable.

“Will you be alright for the moment?” he asked Lexi whose body radiated intense heat.

She nodded once and put the box in her pocket. Lexi had put a firm muzzle on her emotions and nothing passed to him through the Bond. Still, when the violence of the gunshot had separated their minds, for a very brief moment, he had perceived her agony on top of his own.

“Raul and Amir should have their own radios. We have to tell the others that it’s over. No one should get hurt needlessly,” she said.

A dozen Strigoi stood on the terrace and on the towers, almost still. With only a fraction of the jamming signal remaining, some twitched again. A few looked around slowly.

They left as quickly as Lexi could manage. When they reached the bottom of the stairs she held onto the railing and coughed again. Suppressing his fear for her, he took her arm and half carried her on the path. They would rest once final victory was a step away.

Like droplets of ink, red blood marked the grey cement and led to the body of a neatly dressed Strigoi. High heels and an elegant black dress were marred with white blood and worms. Her stinger had been pulled out and still twitched a few paces away. The couple stared at the red blood, both worried and thirsty.

“Raul?” she asked.

“No…why would the blood lead toward the castle and not away from it?”

She wiped at her mouth and her fingers trembled. They moved on, toward the amphitheater and the helicopter. Its door opened and both Raul and Amir appeared. The scent of fresh blood wafted from them.

“You got it?” asked Amir.

“Yes,” said Quinlan.

Amir activated his radio and barked into it.

“We’re by the pond, in the theatre. Retreat but come pick us up first. Raul is injured.”

“Got it!” replied an out of breath Gus through the crackling speaker.

Raul leaned against the fuselage of the helicopter. He sweated despite the coolness of the night and grimaced while clutching his arm. The smell of blood did not come from him.

“How are you hurt?” asked Lexi.

“I think you broke my arm when you pushed me.”

She grunted and Quinlan wanted to help her inside the helicopter but there was a matter to resolve first.

“What happened to the two of you?” asked Quinlan.

Amir glanced at his friend and his labored breathing and turned to the Dhampir with a wry smile.

“I was going to stay in the chopper like Lexi said but…Strigs were coming from all over the place…people were shooting guns...I thought I would be more useful helping you guys than babysitting the pilot. He is fine by the way…I just tied him up.”

He squeezed his forearm around which he had tied a piece of his torn shirt, and stared at the blood smeared on his palm.

“Met a Strig on my way to the castle and you should have seen me…I was fucking awesome. I pulled that stinger right out of its throat. Then I dragged Raul out of there and came back here while you guys were fighting…”

The smile seemed a little strained now. Lexi stared with a gaping mouth and leaned on Quinlan more heavily. Under the young man’s skin, just above his collar, a worm crawled up and up. Quinlan’s chest tightened and Lexi made a strange sound, like a wounded animal. He could do nothing as her face contorted in pain and she burst into loud sobs.

“That’s what I thought…,” said Amir and his smile faded.

“Amir…I’m so so sorry,” she said and had a violent fit of cough.

Her knees buckled and Quinlan helped her sit on the ground until the coughing stopped.

“What the fuck is happening?” asked Raul.

His head lolled and he squinted through the sweat in his eyes. Amir turned to him and his usual grin was back. He removed the fabric from his arm and showed his friend. Raul shook his head.

“They gonna kill that thing and it won’t matter anymore…,” said Raul.

Lexi moaned and put her face in her hands. She swayed softly and Quinlan wanted desperately to hold her and take her pain away.

“Raul…I am afraid we will not be able to test whether this could be true,” he said.

“Why the fuck not?” Raul spat back.

“’ Cause it will take too long to get to Mexico City and by the time they dunk the box in the volcano, I’ll be too far gone.”

“No! This is bullshit! It’s fucking over now! Why the fuck did you leave the chopper you goddamn idiot?” said Raul through gritted teeth.

“And let you get all the glory? Fuck off! Oh and by the way, I’m not an idiot, I know you found my stash, asshole.”

Raul stared in disbelief then laughed and Amir chuckled as well. Carefully, he hugged his friend whose laughter was replaced by quiet tears.

“Tell Gus I’m sorry I fucked up,” whispered Amir.

“Just tell him yourself.”

“I don’t want him to look at me like you guys are looking at me right now.”

With a grunt, Lexi stood and when Quinlan reached to help, she raised a hand and he stopped himself. She exhaled gingerly and stopped crying. Her face hardened.

“If you want to tell him goodbye, do it now,” she said.

Quinlan walked resolutely to the young man who faced him.

“Amir I am sorry you will not get the opportunity to see humanity rise from its ashes, however, I do not doubt you will be remembered and celebrated for the role you played in saving it.”

Quinlan held out a palm. Amir shook it with his back straight and his head high. Then he went to Lexi who pulled him gently into a hug.

“I wish we had met sooner,” she murmured.

He held a little tighter and Quinlan worried he might hurt her.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Make it quick, Lex.”

She took his young face between her hands and grinned softly. Amir was trembling but he forced a smile on his face. Lexi kissed his brow and he closed his eyes. Then before he could open his eyes again, she snapped his neck. His body was heavy so she let herself drop to the ground with it. Quinlan fought the burning sensation behind his eyelids. Raul howled and with uncertain footsteps, he approached Amir’s body. Lexi closed Amir’s eyes as Raul clutched at the hand of his friend. At this moment, the dead face looked incredibly young even with that scar of his. Quinlan felt nauseated by this.

“We must leave,” he told Lexi.

Despite her reassurance that she would be alright, he was worried about her weakened state. Their mission was not yet over. On the road running by the castle, an SUV was approaching. Raul would be safe. They had to go because time was of the essence. And also because at this moment, Quinlan did not want to face the Sun Hunter and his grief.

“Help me to the helicopter,” she said.

“Raul…they are coming. I’m sorry.”

He was ignoring her but she continued.

“Despite all this…Raul…please, live well.”

Quinlan assisted her to the helicopter. In the cabin, she secured herself to a seat and slouched. The pilot’s wrists were handcuffed behind the back of his seat and Quinlan freed him.

“Fly to the JFK airport. If you attempt to escape or disobey my order, I will tear you in half.”

“Ok ok! Please don’t hurt me!”

The man was about thirty, with black eyes and an expressive face. He instantly reached for the commands to start the flight. Above them, the rotors came alive and the blades slashed the air with increasing speed. From Central Park, the ride would last ten minutes at the most. He sat by Lexi who cried as she stared at the window. When he took her hand, her gaze shifted to him. She appeared almost…guilty.

“My Quinlan…”

Her eyelids seemed to get heavier by the second. Quinlan stared with bated breath.

“Forgive me.”

She coughed and white blood dripped on her chin. He reached for her face just as her eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of her presence faded away to almost nothing. Quinlan screamed for Lexi both in his mind and with his voice. The mechanical slashing of the helicopter drowned out his plights.

#quintus sertorius #quinlan #mister quinlan #Mr. Quinlan #the strain #the strain fx #the strain fanfic #the strain fanfiction

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castyourline · 6 years ago

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:::Mahmoud Darwish::: Under Siege

Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time Close to the gardens of broken shadows, We do what prisoners do, And what the jobless do: We cultivate hope. * A country preparing for dawn. We grow less intelligent For we closely watch the hour of victory: No night in our night lit up by the shelling Our enemies are watchful and light the light for us In the darkness of cellars. * Here there is no "I". Here Adam remembers the dust of his clay. * On the verge of death, he says: I have no trace left to lose: Free I am so close to my liberty. My future lies in my own hand. Soon I shall penetrate my life, I shall be born free and parentless, And as my name I shall choose azure letters... * You who stand in the doorway, come in, Drink Arabic coffee with us And you will sense that you are men like us You who stand in the doorways of houses Come out of our morningtimes, We shall feel reassured to be Men like you! * When the planes disappear, the white, white doves Fly off and wash the cheeks of heaven With unbound wings taking radiance back again, taking possession Of the ether and of play. Higher, higher still, the white, white doves Fly off. Ah, if only the sky Were real [a man passing between two bombs said to me]. * Cypresses behind the soldiers, minarets protecting The sky from collapse. Behind the hedge of steel Soldiers pissunder the watchful eye of a tank And the autumnal day ends its golden wandering in A street as wide as a church after Sunday mass... * [To a killer] If you had contemplated the victims face And thought it through, you would have remembered your mother in the Gas chamber, you would have been freed from the reason for the rifle And you would have changed your mind: this is not the way to find ones identity again. * The siege is a waiting period Waiting on the tilted ladder in the middle of the storm. * Alone, we are alone as far down as the sediment Were it not for the visits of the rainbows. * We have brothers behind this expanse. Excellent brothers. They love us. They watch us and weep. Then, in secret, they tell each other: "Ah! if this siege had been declared..." They do not finish their sentence: "Dont abandon us, dont leave us." * Our losses: between two and eight martyrs each day. And ten wounded. And twenty homes. And fifty olive trees... Added to this the structural flaw that Will arrive at the poem, the play, and the unfinished canvas. * A woman told the cloud: cover my beloved For my clothing is drenched with his blood. * If you are not rain, my love Be tree Sated with fertility, be tree If you are not tree, my love Be stone Saturated with humidity, be stone If you are not stone, my love Be moon In the dream of the beloved woman, be moon [So spoke a woman to her son at his funeral] * Oh watchmen! Are you not weary Of lying in wait for the light in our salt And of the incandescence of the rose in our wound Are you not weary, oh watchmen? * A little of this absolute and blue infinity Would be enough To lighten the burden of these times And to cleanse the mire of this place. * It is up to the soul to come down from its mount And on its silken feet walk By my side, hand in hand, like two longtime Friends who share the ancient bread And the antique glass of wine May we walk this road together And then our days will take different directions: I, beyond nature, which in turn Will choose to squat on a high-up rock. * On my rubble the shadow grows green, And the wolf is dozing on the skin of my goat He dreams as I do, as the angel does That life is here...not over there. * In the state of siege, time becomes space Transfixed in its eternity In the state of siege, space becomes time That has missed its yesterday and its tomorrow. * The martyr encircles me every time I live a new day And questions me: Where were you? Take every word You have given me back to the dictionaries And relieve the sleepers from the echos buzz. * The martyr enlightens me: beyond the expanse I did not look For the virgins of immortality for I love life On earth, amid fig trees and pines, But I cannot reach it, and then, too, I took aim at it With my last possession: the blood in the body of azure. * The martyr warned me: Do not believe their ululations Believe my father when, weeping, he looks at my photograph How did we trade roles, my son, how did you precede me. I first, I the first one! * The martyr encircles me: my place and my crude furniture are all that I have changed. I put a gazelle on my bed, And a crescent of moon on my finger To appease my sorrow. * The siege will last in order to convince us we must choose an enslavement that does no harm, in fullest liberty! * Resisting means assuring oneself of the hearts health, The health of the testicles and of your tenacious disease: The disease of hope. * And in what remains of the dawn, I walk toward my exterior And in what remains of the night, I hear the sound of footsteps inside me. * Greetings to the one who shares with me an attention to The drunkenness of light, the light of the butterfly, in the Blackness of this tunnel! * Greetings to the one who shares my glass with me In the denseness of a night outflanking the two spaces: Greetings to my apparition. * My friends are always preparing a farewell feast for me, A soothing grave in the shade of oak trees A marble epitaph of time And always I anticipate them at the funeral: Who then has died...who? * Writing is a puppy biting nothingness Writing wounds without a trace of blood. * Our cups of coffee. Birds green trees In the blue shade, the sun gambols from one wall To another like a gazelle The water in the clouds has the unlimited shape of what is left to us Of the sky. And other things of suspended memories Reveal that this morning is powerful and splendid, And that we are the guests of eternity. Translated by Marjolijn De Jager

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keemeekaal · 7 years ago

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♡ I Don't Know How I Don't Know Why

by The Church + @dune-mosse & @tantetrunte

♡ THe CHuRCH ☆ I Don't Know How I Don't Know Why ○ Man Woman Life Death Infinity ~ 2017

☆ http://open.spotify.com/track/3T9nFzPOFp64DkaxescjjP

#the church #i don't know how i don't know why #man woman life death infinity #2017 #music

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prehistoricsounds · 6 years ago

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This week's arrivals!

New releases from Animal Collective "Tangerine Reef" , Jedi Mind Tricks "The Bridge & The Abyss", Jason Mraz "Know." Jimmy Barnes Soundtrack to "Working Class Boy" documentary, Regurgitator's "Headroxx", The Magpie Salute "High Water I" is a new project for the Rich Robinson along with 2 other ex Black Crowes members. Shepparton Airplane "Almurta", The Sea & Cake "Any Day", Gurrumul's "Djarimirri (Child Of The Rainbow)" and a collection of Mick Ronson tracks "Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story"

Reissue wise we have two limited Mac Demarco reissues of 2 and Salad Days demos, Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson "Rattlin' Bones" which was a RSD release a few years back, Some Sunn O))) reissues of "White1 and White2", James Reyne "Live In Rio" and the Superjesus "Sumo"

Plus we have restocks of Turbonegro, Traveling Wilburys and XXXtentacion

Alanis Morrisette - Jagged Little Pill [LP] Animal Collective - Tangerine Reef [2LP] Aretha Franklin - The Queen Of Soul [4CD] (sold) Billy Jo Shaver - Long In The Tooth [LP] Black Crowes - Shake Your Money Maker [LP] Black Sabbath - Vol. 4 [LP] Blink 182 - Buddha [LP] Brian Jonestown Massacre - Something Else [LP] Brian Jonestown Massacre - Strung Out In Heaven [LP] (sold) Buddy Holly - The Rough Guide To... [LP] Carson - Blown [CD] Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore - Downey To Lubbock [2LP] (sold) Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore - Downey To Lubbock [CD] (sold) David Bowie - Diamond Dogs [LP] (sold) David Bowie - The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust [LP] Death - Leprosy (30th Anniversary) [2LP] (sold) Dee Snider - For The Love Of Metal [LP] (sold) Dinosaur Jr. - Hand It Over [LP] Dwarves - Take Back The Night [LP] Dylan Carlson - Conquistador [LP] Eskimo Joe - Inshalla (Orange) [LP] Frank Zappa - Uncle Meat [2LP] Ghost - If You Have Ghost [LP] Greta Van Fleet - Black Smoke Rising [LP] Gurrumul - Djarimirri (Child Of The Rainbow) [2LP] Heart - Dreamboat Annie [LP] Hideous Sun Demon - Industry Connections [LP] J.Cole - KOD [LP] James Reyne - Live In Rio [2LP] Jason Mraz - Know. [LP] Jedi Mind Tricks - The Bridge & The Abyss [2LP] Jimmy Barnes - Working Class Boy (OST) [LP] Jordie Lane & The Sleepers - Glassellland [LP] Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson - Rattlin' Bones [LP] Mac Demarco - 2 'Demos' (Green) [LP] Mac Demarco - Salad Days 'Demos' (White) [LP] Machine Gun Fellatio - Paging Mr. Strike (Yellow) [2LP] Mavis Staples - Livin' On A High Note [LP] Mazzy Star - Still [EP] Metallica - Metallica (Black Album) [2LP] Misfits - Static Age [LP] Mothers Of Invention (Zappa) - Burnt Weeny Sandwich [LP] Motorhead - Under Cover [LP] No Doubt - No Doubt [LP] Oh Sees - Smote Reverser [2LP] (sold, more soon) Pagan - Death Before Disco [7"] Post Malone - Stoney [2LP] Pungent Stench - Been Caught Buttering [LP] (sold) Pungent Stench - First Recordings [LP] Pungent Stench - For God Your Soul For Me Your Flesh [2LP] (sold) Pungent Stench - Smut Kingdom [LP] Queen - Greatest Hits [2LP] Regurgitator - Headroxx [LP] Regurgitator - Regurgitator / New [LP] Royal Blood - How Did We Get So Dark? [LP] Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings - Give The People What They Want [LP] Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings - I Learned The Hard Way [LP] Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings - Miss Sharon Jones (OST) [2LP] Shepparton Airplane - Almurta [LP] Shilpa Ray - Last Year's Savage [LP] (sold) Slayer - South Of Heaven [LP] Sunn O))) - White 1 [2LP] Sunn O))) - White 2 [2LP] Temple Of The Dog - Temple Of The Dog [2LP] The Church - Man Woman Life Death Infinity [LP] The James Hunter Six - Whatever It Takes [CD] (sold) The James Hunter Six - Whatever It Takes [LP] The Magpie Salute - High Water I (Clear) [2LP] The Sea & Cake - Any Day (Coloured) [LP] The Soft Boys - Underwater Moonlight [LP] The Superjesus - Sumo (Red) [LP] Thelonious Monk - Alone In San Francisco [LP] Tobin Sprout - The Universe & Me [LP] Tom Waits - Blue Valentine [LP] Traveling Wilburys - Vol. 1 [LP] Traveling Wilburys - Vol. 3 [LP] Turbonegro - RockNRoll Machine [LP] Various - Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story [2LP] Various: The Rough Guide To - The Best Country Blues You've Never Heard [LP] Wire - Chairs Missing [LP] XXXtentacion - ? [LP]

#latestarrivals #prehistoricsounds #warrnambool #newrelease

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balticapocalypse · 3 years ago

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Lithuanian folklore as a source of Baltic religion: the fire ritual

Presented at the First International Gathering and Conference of Elders of Ancient Traditions and Cultures in Mumbay, India.

Presentation sponsored by the Infinity Foundation.

Baltic religion is based on local mythology, folklore and ethnic heritage. The heritage of different ethnic and linguistic groups in Lithuania is rich, full of holiness and faith. This faith survived in many forms, regardless efforts of the Christian Church, until these times: nation's traditions, songs, language and morals.

Romuva – Old Baltic religion – is the revival of the Baltic spiritual tradition that expresses the religious world concept of Old Europe and the Indo-Europeans. This culture survived in many national cultures of the Baltic region. Historically, in the Middle Ages, Romuva was one of the last important European Pagan temples. Today, the place is located in the Kaliningrad region, formerly known as East Prussia, and originally – the ancient Baltic Prusa. Besides the central Romuva, there were many local Romuvas that thrived in the wide region of the Baltic.

The goal of the Romuva movement is reviving and continuing the ancient Lithuanian faith.

Dainos (chants) in Romuva rituals

In Romuva's worship rituals, Dainos (chants) play a special part, and like other traditional customs and symbols they take on holiness, power and meaning. Daina – song, to the Baltic nations has always been the most important means of spiritual expression. Balts, a land of songs, have their own holy scripture – songs "dainos". Our kinsmen, the aryans, in their holy text the "Avesta", use the word "daena", just as the word daina, song, of the same origin, – its meaning – "faith, inner essence and the spiritual me". Daina, song is life giving to the essence of man and shows man's vitality. Old and young, men and women, all sang while working, merry making and grieving. Songs have been handed down from one generation to another as the greatest treasure, as the eternal fire.

Romuva rituals are often begun with a special type of song called sutartine. A Sutartine is a uniquely Baltic type of polyphonic canon, which produces unusual harmonies. It is a genre of ritualistic chants that often contains mystical texts, with archaic symbolism. Sometimes they include strange words of incantation, such as dobylio, tuta, lylio, chuta, chutyta, sadula, gadula. The manning of these words is not always known.

Holiness, worshipping ancestors – moral principles of faith

Holiness – is that unnamed vital power and spiritual strength, which occurs in people and nature. Baltic traditions preserved the ancient concept of holiness which differs considerably from the Christian concept. Holy are the rivers, springs, trees, stones and others – all part of the ancient prechristian legacy, connected primarily with nature and not so much with the people. The mysterious, creative strength is personified so that through visible feeling and understanding, it shapes man to draw him nearer to divinity.

God, the creator, as written by famous Lithuanian historian S.Daukantas, had many names among the Balts. Owing to this holy, world creating force – the world spreads, grows, taking forms which do not loose the link with their source, thus the world resembling a tree. Thus a tree – a significant sign and image of ancient religion explains the world's structure. In Lithuanian harvest time songs, it is sung:

A poplar stood by the roadside,

Oh glorious plant of rye (refr.)

From below the roots – the ringing kankles,

In the middle – the buzzing bees,

At the summit – the falcon's children,

A group of brothers rides by,

Please stop, young brothers,

Behold the falcon's children,

Listen to the buzzing bees,

Listen to the ringing kankles,

The kankles rings for our dear father

The bees they buzz for our dear mother

The falcon's children – for our brother

This is the main hymn of Romuva – Old Baltic Religion community. It is sung about the mythological world-tree and its three most important parts, which symbolize the three levels of the world. Roots – underground, death, the past, water – beginning and spring of life. The ringing of kankles at the roots – the world of the old, the wise, and the dead. The buzzing bees in the middle – the world of working, toiling people. The falcon's children at the summit – the heavens, the world of warriors and heroes. Death and life – an uninterrupted linking of evolution. A tree, even though it drops its leaves in the autumn, goes into sleep in winter, but its life goes on and its soul remains alive. Such is man's path – through birth, death and rebirth. The central meaning of this hymn is the equal importance and harmony of these three levels.

Honoring of ancestors – is a link with dead family members and relatives, remembering them on special days. Family, kinfolk, tribe – without contrasting the living and dead, has a perpetual, indivisible connection. Language, songs, customs, feelings, thoughts, is all just a part of this connection. After death, the deceased finds himself among his dead relatives, and during religious and traditional rites, the living and the dead meet. It is a strong field of unity, and oneness, for which the link with earth and native land is very important. In Lithuania it is said "the souls of the dead are the guardians of their living relatives, or their close ones, especially dead parents, who are guardians of their orphan children". Ancestors are important; whom in honoring we refer to as the original mother, forefather and others. The dead become caretakers of fields and farmsteads. The living and the dead interrelate, unite through nature and earth. Funerals used to take place in nature. Only later they were moved indoors. Emigrants, who left their native land, should return to it and in doing so they will rebuild the most important connection. The life and death ring of family turns in such manner that the roads of both living and deceased create one, single path.

The fire ritual

The Fire Ritual is the most important ritual in the Baltic religion.

"To this very day fire is sacred to all Lithuanians. No other phenomenon fits religion so well as fire. Only the flame turns wisdom to the path of spirituality" wrote the prominent Lithuanian philosopher, Vydunas.

During every traditional Baltic holiday a fire (ugnis) is lit, whether such is in an altar or bonfire, or by candle. Fire is the most important symbol of Lithuanian traditions. During ancient times, the Baltic people were known as fire worshipers. The Eternal Flame burned at Sventaragis Valley at the very center of Vilnius. Every household had a hearth, which was particularly respected by each member of the family, but cared for and safeguarded by the mother. The fire had greater meaning than merely the source of light and warmth. It symbolized the unbroken lifeline of the family and its ancestry. The Eternal Flame of the community served to unify not only its immediate members, but was also the unifying link with ancestors who had long since died and were now with the Gods. It was believed that numerous generations of the dead continued to live on at the hearth of the fire.

"Throughout all of Lithuania, people held fire to be sacred. Thus it was required to honour it and behave before it with respect. Coals had to be closely accumulated. Fire could be extinguished only with cold and clean water. Fire was not to be insulted. It was not to be harmed nor polluted. People were not to spit into fire, nor was it permitted to kick it or to stomp upon it. All that was considered sinful, and any such actions were sure to invite punishment, either while the person was still alive or after their death" (J. Balys, Lietuviu Tautosakos Lobynas (Treasure Chest of Lithuanian Folklore), 1951, pg.39).

"No live coals nor smouldering ashes were to be extinguished on holiday days for that was considered a sin – it was necessary to wait until the fire burned out on its own accord."(Salakas). "When salt is sprinkled on the fire and it begins to crackle, it is said: 'Sacred Gabija, be nourished.' " The expression "to make the bed for the fire" – meant that it was to be carefully edged and ashes poured around delicately (Laukuva).

"When the fireplace was being lit at home, everyone had to remain quiet and were not to turn away, even in the event they were to hear someone calling" (1854 by A. Kirkoras). A cup of clean water was to be placed near to the fire, in order that "the beloved little fire would have the means to wash itself." Ugnis, the fire, is honored in all Lithuanian celebrations and rites. When Ugnis is fed salt, it is said: "Sacred Gabija, be satiated."

To "make a bed" for the fire – means to set her up nicely, surrounded by stones, and cover her in ashes – "Sacred Gabija, forged – may you lay, kindled – may you shine!" A cup of pure water is placed near the fire, so that "Ugnis may wash herself." "Ugnis Gabija, gathered – may you sleep, uncovered – may you shine, and always be a helper of mine." "Ugnele, Ramute, sacred Gabija, help us." (Marijampole) "Ugnute, Ramute, sacred Gabija, our calmer, be still, be rapid. For ages and forever." (Marijampole) Here are the words of prominent Lithuania phylospher Vydunas:

"Blessed is the man, who seeks the way to the eternal Romuva,

And desires, in the light of everlasting fire

To live forever. Naught will stand against him.

May we see, what is eternal and sacred.

Throughout the ages, it will bless us all!"

The sacred cult of Gabija (the fire Goddess) with its prehistoric roots has survived to our present day. She has evolved through ornithomorphic, zoomorphic (the cat) and anthropomorphic portrayals (a woman clothed in red, sometimes winged). She is tended solely by women, traditionally the head woman of the household or clan.

The name Gabija is derived from the verb apgaubti, to cover up. This refers to the process of putting Gabija to bed by carefully banking the coals and ashes for the night and uttering prayers that entreat her to "stay put" and not to wander. This was an important duty of the mistress of the home, each evening. Repeating the prayers taught to her by her mother, she would carefully and lovingly cover the coals. To be neglectful or careless in this task would mean disaster for her home and loved ones, for under no circumstances was Gabija to be treated with disrespect or neglected. If angered, she would go "for a walk" leaving destruction in her path.

Gabija is "fed" traditionally with salt and numerous food offerings. If a bit of salt or food falls into fire while woman is cooking, she will say: "Gabija, be satisfied".

Prayers ask Gabija to live with us in peace and to stay put. It is customary to leave a bowl of clean water by the hearth, in case Gabija feels inclined to wash, saying: "Bathe and rest, Fiery One".

Should it be necessary to extinguish the flames, it can only be done by using clean water. Fire has eyes; thus no impurities can be thrown into the flames. Much folklore attests to the dire consequences for those who spit or stomp on her. Stray coals must be carefully retrieved and placed again in the hearth or stove.

The hearth fire was the focus of all family rituals and rites of passage with the head woman or male elder presiding. Lithuanians begin each ritual invoking her presence without which the rites would not be possible. She accepts the sacrifices and acts as a mediator and messenger to other deities. Her healing, protective and purifying powers are well documented in many other Indo-European societies. Here is not the reserved, passive, maiden aunt archetype of Vesta or Heslia. Gabija is the vital centre if each temple, grove and home. She is the flaming symbol of all that is truly alive on that planet and a deity and power to be treated with the utmost respect.

As population grew, a class of priestesses, known as vaidilutes, attended to the sacred eternal flame that burned for the family, for the tribe and, entirely, for the nation.

A set of days at the beginning of February are dedicated to the Goddess and the renewal of fire, the awakening of homestead gods.

February 2nd is the day of Perkunas. Visinski wrote about the Samogitian customs on this day. They would wrap a small wax candle, "perkunine", (candle of Perkunas), made with a thick linen thread with wax, wrapping it about the peace of wood. This type of "wrapped candle" can be made by simple wrapping a linen thread. It symbolizes the life (the linen thread), the power of the everlasting fire. The candle of Perkunas is lit near dying person, during funerals, or for protection from thunderstorms and other perils.

February 5th is the day of Gabija. Gabija is the guardian of the home hearth. Sacrifices of power to Gabija are bread, salt, water. To bless by fire – a "Perkunine" candle is carried thrice around the table and around the hearth. Then each family member is blessed with fire in the shape of a cross (sign of Perkunas) – holding it at the forehead, the back of the head, and under each ear. Such a ritual is known as strengthening by fire.

The fire for rituals was lit either on a hearth of stone or on an altar. Good oak logs were to be selected with care for the fire. A sutartine (archaic round refrain song) was chanted while lighting the fire:

The Fire is burning, tuta tuta

Gabija is burning …

On the mound

On the high hill

Fire Gabia

Shine as lit

Moulder as covered

Zemynele, dear earth

We are your children

Saule – sun, dear mother

We are your daughters

Menuo – moon, dear father

We are your sons

Stars, dear sisters

We are your sisters

Fire, Gabia

Shine as lit

Smoulder as covered

Give us strength

Unite us

Zemynele, dear earth

Help us prosper

Laima, destiny-giver

Bless us

The words can be improvised to express both desires, as well as wishes for others. All the participants to the ritual can approach the fire one by one, express their good will and offer their Contact with Gods and with one's ancestors is sought through the fire. Sacrificial donations to the fire can be bread, grains, beer grasses and flowers. Circling the Fire clockwise, three times, strengthens the ritual. All those who have gathered can also walk in a circle around the hearth

Fire in calendar holidays

The worshiping of fire, the fire rituals are observed in calendar and family holidays. Two important holidays – Kucios and Kaledos – mark the end of the year – when the world returns to darkness and non-existence. However, as death begets birth, the two holidays also herald the rebirth of nature and the return of the sun. The Lithuanians distinguish the two subsequent days, now celebrated on 24 and 25 December with a variety of ritual customs.

Indo-European cultures traditionally greet the New Year with rituals and tales that reenact and relate the creation of the world.

Adults begin their preparation for Kucios and Kaledos by placing a cherry twig in water on the day when bears start to hibernate, which is the first day of winter according to folklore. The twigs sprout roots in time for the holiday. Children play games symbolizing the planting of crops such as the one wherein girls imitate sowing, by strewing hemp seeds, which prompts dreams about future husbands.

The ancient calendar feast days are special because they help man experience the main segments of life: birth – maturity – old age – death. Such calendar helps man realize and live through the circle of life, all the while preparing for the trip to the other side. Folk calendar songs and rites reveal the secrets of the circle of life. Creation of the world and its dispersion, is celebrated in an ancient Lithuanian Christmas song:

A pear tree stands in the middle of the field, Kaleda

Oh! And a spark fell, Kaleda

Oh! And the blue sea spilled over, Kaleda

On that sea – a ship is sailing, Kaleda

In that ship – a chair stands, Kaleda

On that chair – a girl sits, Kaleda

This is a Southern Lithuanian winter solstice song. The word kaleda refers to the time of Winter solstice. A candle burns in a pear tree – in the world tree. The fire of the candle is the sacred altar fire. A spark fals, creating the sea – moving the sacred waters, awakening the universal force of life. The song is usually sung during Winter Solstice, when lighting a new fire for the new year.

The solemn feast of Kucios unites the living with the dead as well as all forms of life: people and animals. The house requires special preparation. The family hangs up an iconic "grove:" birds made of wood- straw or egg shells surrounding a straw sun. This grove as well as a multitude of burning candles invokes the souls of the dead (vele) who sit at a small table with bread, salt, and Kucia on it. The Kucia contains many traditional grains which symbolize regeneration: cooked wheat, barley, peas, beans, rye, poppy seeds, hemp seeds, etc. mixed with nuts and honey water. The Kucia feeds the souls of the ancestors. as well as the living. The living sit at another table, covered with hay and a table cloth. In earlier days, hay also used to cover the floor. Symbols of the life force, which sustain the human world, decorate the main table. This includes a bundle of unthrashed rye, which the family used the next day to bind around its apple trees.

Kucios, an exclusively nocturnal celebration, begins when the evening star appears in the sky. Before gathering at the ritual table, everybody bathes in saunas, makes up with their neighbors, and forgives their enemies. In olden days, the head of the household, wearing high black boots, a large black sash (juosta), and a prominent black hat – used to circle the farmstead three times. He would approach the house door after evervbody else had entered. To the question "Who is there?", he answered "Dearest God (Dievulis) with the Kucia begs admittance".

Once the family gathers, the eldest member (man or woman) says a traditional invocation and breaks the Kucia bread, which everybody gives to each other. According to the sixteenth century historian Praetorius, every member of the family, placing a loaf of bread on the floor, prayed: "Zemepatis (God of the homestead), we thank you for the good bread you give us. Help us work the fields while blessing you, that Zemynele (Mother Earth Goddess, sister of Zemepatis ) would continue to give us your good gifts." Then everyone, raising the bread to the sky, concluded with: "Nourish us".

After the exchange of the Kucia bread, each person sips some beer, spilling few drops onto the floor for the vele, the souls of the dead. Dinner follows. Kucios traditionally required 13 different foods, which echoed the 13 lunar months of the year. Under the influence of the solar calendar, the number changed to 12. The foods may not contain any meat or milk. The meal consists of Kucia (mixed grain dish described above), Kisielius (a type of cranberry jello), hot beet soup, mushroom dumplings, cabbage, fish, and seafood.

Animals partake in the ceremony by eating the same food that people eat. When people and animals used to live under one roof, everybody fed their household and farm animals from the table. On farms. families still feed their animals with the leftovers from Kucios. The families also share the food with bees and fruit trees.

After dinner, while everyone remains at the table, the children and young people pull straws of hay out from underneath the tablecloth. A long straw represents a long and prosperous life. The adults too would tell their own fortunes im a variety of ways.

Participants exchange wishes for each other by pouring grains into the hearth fire. The hearth becomes the sacred fire of the home. Each single grain sown in the fire grows and prospers. The family also ritually burns a birch wreath, stump, or log in the hearth, representing the old year The participants can also destroy evil by burning splinters they invest with meaning.

Kaledos

The merry rituals of Kaledos celebrate the rebirth of the sun, called Saule, Motule (Mother Sun).

People carry images of the sun through the fields and the towns, wishing everybody prosperity.

Greetings and wishes, expressed during Kaledos, posses a potency which guarantees their fulfillment.

Spring starts with the day of Perkunas (the Thunder God). On the first day that Perkunas strikes, the whole earth is shaken, awakening nature. The grass begins growing. As do the crops, the trees, and all life. Girls, desiring that their rue plants would grow luxuriant and beautiful, would plant them right after the first thunderstorm.

It is said, that if you bathe, after the first thunder, in a river, or lake, you shall be healthy and strong. Drinking water, unblessed by Perkunas, may make you sick. Before Perkunas blesses the land, it is not allowed to walk the land barefoot, lay on the Earth, nor sit upon rocks. Burning fire on an unthundered land is also forbiden or else Perkunas will burn down your home." (B. Buracas, "Jaunasis ukininkas", 1939, nr.15)

This is just a part of the old beliefs, showing how important Perkunas is in the spring – youthful, powerful, and always a bringer of rebirth.

The old fire of the winter is extinguished, and a new spring fire is lit up. The fire is brough home from the fire of a sacred altar (spring Perkunas' fire).

From the woods, verbos are brought home. Branches of osier and willows are tied with a red thread or an ornamented tape. Verba is the magical branch, which gives one the power of life and growth, protects him from diseases. Homes are decorated with verbos.

During Velykos, when visiting gravesites, verbos are placed on the graves. Verba is used as a means of protection, rejuvenation, and purification. Even the water of a stream can be improved – by sticking a verba into the ground on each side of the river.

Verba is the people's deep belief in the sacredness of the green branch. When the verba, at home, dries up, they remove it, leaving only the branch. The thorns are then stored in a bag, and are later burned as insence for Perkunas, or upon someone's death.

During the holidays, everyone tries to get up early and whip the sleepy ones with a verba, for which they must repay with a margutis. That, which is touched by a verba, receives the force of life.

Margutis is a symbol of nature's rebirth, has a sacred force of life. Eggs are painted during ceremonies and celebrations up until Jore. The first marguciai are red – during Lyge. Later – marguciai are decorated with meaningful ornaments – for rites, gifts, games, rolling. Velykos fir trees are decorated with marguciai. The old woman, Velyke brings an egg for the child, early in the morning, and puts it on the window sill.

Towards the end of June, at the time of the summer solstice, when night is the shortest and Nature bursts with blossoms and growth, we celebrate the Holy Day of Rasa.

Rasa, which means dew, was regarded as a fundamental manifestation of life force in ancient times. It has divining qualities on solstice morning.

S.Daukantas wrote "Before that holiday, everything under the sun went to the sacred rivers and lakes to bathe, to become young, and if one followed the rites carefully, he would become wise and clairvoyant. There was no happier holiday than Rasa, because, as they say, on that morning the sun dances."

At this time, most healing herbs are possessed of great strength and potency. On the eve of Rasa, young women engage in the holy gathering of herbs (kupoliauti). The specific herbs for this day, or Kupoles, as they are called are: daisies, St. John's Wort, bilberries and any yellow blossoming herb (melampyrum nemorosum). "Kupeti" – means to grow healthily, to sprout through the earth.

The kupole is a branched pole is placed in the center of the ritual area. The top of the pole is triple branched (which is reflected in the rune ascribed to this feast day). In eastern Lithuania it is explained that this is a miraculous growth with three branches, one of which blooms like the Sun, the other – like the Moon, and the third – like a Star. Young women who wish to wed, play a divinition game: standing with their backs to the kupole, they throw a wreath over their heads and hope that it will land on the kupole. The number of tries that it takes to get the wreath on the Kupole indicates the number of years until marriage.

Rasa is a wreath-making holiday. Maidens make wreaths from magical herbs (kupoles) and place them on their brows. Wreaths decorate homes, doors and gates. The men adorn themselves with wreaths of oak leaves. During the night, everyone goes to sacred rivers and lakes and cast these wreaths in the water. Candles are attached to the wreaths. If the wreaths of a woman and man float together, it is a sign that they will wed.

Gates are constructed from poles with the appropriate rune atop and decked in greenery. Each person that enters through the gates becomes a participant in the Rasa rites. Around one pole of the gate, maidens circle and around the other – young men. They bow and greet each other as they pass, circling through the gate while a daina is sung. One strives to greet the summer solstice partner of choice.

According to our custom, the "old fire" is extinguished with pure water and a new, holy fire is kindled. The sacred "aukuras" (ritual fire) is addressed. We bid goodbye to the setting Sun and honour nature by the placing wreaths near the fire. Newlyweds carry the new kindled fire to their homes. This fire is sacred and blesses their home.

Apart from regular campfires, fires are lit upon poles made with naves, birch-bark, tar, etc. The flaming "sun wheels" are set loose to roll down hills.

Throughout the night everyone feasts and rejoices. Then everyone addresses the dawn, the rising Sun and delight in Her dancing.

The revival of traditional Lithuanian ethnic religion is connected with the sign of fire as well. The sacred fire was lighted as aukuras (the special name for fireplace, derived from aukoti – to sacrificed) in1967 during the celebration of summer solstice festival in Kernave. The group of young Vilnius University students and professors started celebration of Rasa – dew – summer solstice in Kernave. It is called the start of new reviving Lithuanian Pagan or Baltic faith tradition. This year we'll have the anniversary – 35 years of celebration. The sacred fire according ancient customs is lit.

The Romuva of today – is the total of several Baltic traditions, continuing the universality of the ancient Prussian Romuva and exploring folklore surviving in Lithuania up to the 21st century as the most important source of Baltic spiritual wisdom.

The Romuva movement is part of the movement of rebirth of ancient spiritualities in Europe. This renaissance is occurring very naturally and regularly, because its time has come. We can rejoice that the Baltics and other European nations have preserved the richest resources for this movement – their ethnic cultures, which will serve faithfully in the movement of nature worshipers in Europe. The main action, which Christian church had made in Baltic land to destroy the Baltic religion was the extinguishing the holy fire. The rebirth of ancient Baltic religion and tradition means the lighting and keeping burning the holy fire of our ancestors.

Inija Trinkuniene

The leader of Vilnius Baltic Religion Community

Research fellow, Institute for Social Research

Lithuania

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