#The World's Mightest Mortal

[purple-eyesgreydragon]

"Haro was weak! A true god would fight for their mantle, not give it up. All I needed to do to earn my crown and godhood from those Bishops, was to hunt. Every. Last. Lamb. In the world." - Brakkoro. (With his Mace.)

I've had the idea for a Cult of the Lamb 2 for awhile.

Cult of the Lamb 2: Missionary Journey

In it the Lamb decides to travel to reaches beyond the Lands of the Old Faith. Finding other gods to face and more followers to recruit. But they cannot do it entirely themselves. As there is still the main part of their cult to run. The Lamb recruits local, fellow bovine followers. Each gifted with a copy given crown, allowing them to wield vessel powers of their own. Their strength only able to grow by their own, and others' growing devotion to the Lamb. Able to call upon the Lamb should they need them. The Lamb's missionaries spread the gospel of the Lamb across the lands beyond. Facing vengeful gods of their own, who will not take the Lamb engrossing on their territory and devotion without a fight.

Brakkoro is the new God of the Hunt and ruler of the Frigridge Mountains. At first he was a mortal, barbarian, hunter, yeti of the frosty mountains. In his young life he hunted only what was needed for his family and tribe. But, over time the thrill of the hunt began to excite and enthrall Brakkoro. From hunting for food to hunting for sport. Brakkoro trained tirelessly so he could hunt and take down the mightiest of foes. Only now wanting to face the strong worthy hunts. After a series of slaying the fiercest creatures of the mountains. Brakkoro set his sights on the mightest monster of the tallest mountain, the dreaded ice dragon. While his family discouraged him, fearing his safety, and the tribe called him crazy. He would not be deterred. Wielding nothing but his mighty mace, Brakkoro climbed to confront the beast. The battle was brutal, bloody, and bone chilling. Brakkoro in the end triumphed, but not with losing an eye. Having returned to his tribe with the dragon's head, he had proven them all wrong. Surely if the strongest monster of their harsh land fell to him, there were none such creatures he couldn't track down and slay. Years later having heard word of Haro, the God of the Hunt having step down to the Bishops of the Old Faith, Brakkoro was outraged. To think he once respected the feeble deity. Believing himself the best, Brakkoro set off for the Lands of the Old Faith to face the Bishops. Arriving to their realms he began a bloody massacre upon their cultists and especially monsters. He demanded an audience or he would never stop hunting them. Seeing how swift the hunter's wrath was, the Bishops granted him the audience he desired. Demanding the reason for his unprovoked attack on their cults. Brakkoro demanded godhood, and become the new god of the hunt. At first they would not humor this foolish prideful mortal. But then having stated his unrivaled strength and hunting abilities, the Bishops offered a pact. Fearing the prophecy which foretold The One Who Waits' release. The Bishops were purging their lands of any lamb that could fulfill it. But there were surely lambs in the lands beyond to worry about. So they tasked Brakkoro with traveling across the world, to hunt down and kill every last lamb he could find. Only then would they give him the power he desired. So Brakkoro set out to purge the lamb race. He traveled high and low, east and west, day and night, slaying every last one of them. Feasting on their meat, and sending their wool to his tribe. After years of hunting, no one heard a single word of any other lamb that was not in the Lands of the Old Faith. Which the Bishops had recently captured the last, and would do away with eventually. Having returned successful, the Bishops had made for Brakkoro his own crown. Proclaiming him the new god of the hunt, successor to Haro. With their deal having been met, the Bishops told Brakkoro to leave their lands and never returned. Seeing has he got what he wanted and claimed impressive trophies from their realms, he returned to his home.

Now as the newly crowned god, his tribe and the rest of the mountains inhabitance revered him. Brakkoro's new power swelled with their devotion. His new cult and followers would now hunt for him and bring him offerings. Should the hunted offering please him, he will bless the meat with life giving nourishment. The meat would strengthen their bones, hone their senses, and even increase their life expectancies. Brakkoro also would bring warmth to the frigid homes of the mountains, to those who's hunted offerings pleased him. He can be a tough judge though, quantity or quality are required for him. Brakkoro would only take small offerings like hares or squirrels from children. Any follower who'd bring such feeble trophies he'd only deprive them of warmth and nourishment. The best of his hunters were the yaks, Brakkoro expected only the best from them. Word did reach him of the Bishops fall, and a surviving lamb become god. But he cared not now. Brakkoro had done his part still in their deal, and if they failed to kill a single lamb when he slew countless others, then they were weak. Brakkoro does wonder however would the lamb seek revenge, if they knew?

Brakkoro is known by many names. The God of the Hunt, Dragon Slayer, the Bloodlust Barbarian, the Lamb Slayer, the Hunter King, Yeti Monster, and Successor of Haro (His least favorite).

[childofchrist1983]

O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet: All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field; The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas. O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! - Psalm 8:3-9 KJV

Psalm 8 is one of my favorite psalms. Look at the love and confidence God shows us! We know from the Book of Genesis and the first creation story, that after God created human beings, He gave them dominion over all His creation. This responsibility is what Psalm 8 describes.

As I look around, I question how well we have lived up to this task. We have over-fished many of our lakes and oceans; we have over-hunted to the point where some animals have become almost extinct. I would never question the right of anyone to hunt or fish for food, or to provide food for others. But I do question people who hunt for trophies and discard the animal. We have polluted our rivers and our lakes so that there are areas of the world with no access to clean drinking water. This pollution is the result of greedy companies who pour toxic chemicals into the water rather than safely disposing of them. We have polluted the air so that there are places where you cannot safely breathe without a face mask. Then we have become so dependent on fossil fuels that climate change threatens every corner of the world. The melting of the polar ice caps is already making the seas rise. Our weather patterns are changing and creating more earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis, and blizzards. We have not done a great job taking care of ourselves nor this world God created and blessed us with. When those who want change make their voices known, they are often dismissed as fear mongers. The reality is, it might cost us money, or cause us discomfort. We have a responsibility to leave the world in a better situation, and God is watching. He has given us an awesome task. May He make us more worthy of it. We lift our voices in praise to Him for His love, mercy, faithfulness and grace. - For EVERYTHING!

It is vital that we remain rooted in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit and that we live and walk as a beacon of His light and love and share and spread the Gospel Truth daily, so that the lost souls in this world can come to know Him and be saved. The more we focus on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, growing spiritually by building our relationship with Him, leaning on Him and His Holy Word and Spirit, the better off we will be. Thanks to this and our faith in Him, we know that everything will be alright. And we will forever be grateful to Him. As true and born-again Christians, we believe in Him and His Holy Word and we strive daily to walk in His Holy Spirit. We know though our mortal bodies should die, He will raise us up and into new and glorious bodies (The Rapture). We who are truly His and alive at His second coming will never die, and our bodies will be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and so shall we ever be with Him in His Kingdom of Heaven forevermore (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). This is one of many promises given to us by God Himself. Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives daily according to His will.

Jesus Christ is the ONLY way to Heaven (John 3:5, 14:6), the ONLY way to salvation (Acts 4:12, Ephesians 2:8-9) and He is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25-26). Jesus Christ the LORD of lords, KING of kings, the GOD of gods (Deuteronomy 10:17, 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 17:14, Revelation 19:16) - He is the Living, Almighty and Everlasting God (Isaiah 9:6, Revelation 1:8, John 3:16, John 3:36, Jeremiah 10:10). There is no other God besides Him (Isaiah 45:5). We MUST humble ourselves before Him, turning our backs on false teachers, false gods and idols and our sinful ways. We MUST repent and turn back to God and recognize who He is and love Him in return for His great love for us. We MUST make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[transskywardsword]

Okay yall I need help: which do I read next?

The Power Of SHAZAM!

The Wisdom of Solomon! The Strength of Hercules! The Stamina of Atlas! The Power of Zeus! The Courage of Achilles! The Speed of Mercury! When Billy Batson speaks the magic word SHAZAM, he becomes the World's Mightest Mortal Captain Marvel!

A run from 1995-2010 (48 issues), it'll take a while to finish but is a #classic

2. Shazam! Power of Hope

A tale of a super-hero using his powers in the most human of ways, to instill hope in the hearts of children. When Billy Batson, Captain Marvel's adolescent alter ego, receives a letter from a terminally ill boy in the City's Children Hospital, he decides to spend a few days in the ward.

Also a #classic, and one of the more famous of the shazam one shots. One issue, is supposed to be very emotional

3. Superman/Shazam: First Thunder

While Superman must stop members of a cult from stealing an ancient artifact from the Metropolis Natural History Museum, Captain Marvel must defeat giant robots rampaging through Fawcett City. When the same cult attempts to steal an artifact from a Fawcett City Museum, Superman drops by to lend a hand, and teams up with Captain Marvel against an all-new threat!

So Cap actually came from a rival comic company, so for a long time he and Supes only fought in huge smackdowns, so them working together is super out of the ordinary! 4 issues

4. Shazam! 2013

Young orphan Billy Batson has bounced from foster home to foster home, but when he’s drawn to the Rock of Eternity, he is imbued with powers beyond those of any mortal man! But can he learn how to handle those powers in time to defeat the villainous Black Adam?

So this is from the Justice Leauge New 52 reboot, it's a collection of comics compiled into 1 issue!

5. Shazam! 2019

Teenager turned super-hero Billy Batson struggles to balance school and superheroics! (Guess which one is more fun?) But when Shazam unlocks a shocking secret deep within the Rock of Eternity, it challenges everything he knows about the worlds of magic and his family’s future as its champions!

SO this was the first monthly issue run for Billy in 20 years but I know next to nothing about it. 15 issues.

FINALLY: 6.1 Day of Vengence

A group of DC Universe magic-users join together to form Shadowpact, a team dedicated to stopping the spirit of vengeance known as The Spectre from destroying all magic in the universe!

and

6.2 Trails of Shazam! (they're a package deal!)

The world is in magical turmoil as Captain Marvel tries to keep everything under control in the aftermath of the events of DAY OF VENGEANCE. And with the rest of the Marvel Family powerless, it's all up to him-unless some drastic changes occur fast!

All together, there are 18 issues! Lots of other characters than just Billy, a big group meet up.

[chronometricals]

I posted before about Pierre's faith deconstruction in Herman Melville's Pierre, and this post is about the catalyst for it: Isabel, and what Pierre believes is a divine calling to be a brother. Warning for discussion of intolerance toward homosexuality, including religious opposition.

(My emphasis in bold.)

My mother!—dearest mother!—God hath given me a sister, and unto thee a daughter, and covered her with the world's extremest infamy and scorn, that so I and thou—thou, my mother, mightest gloriously own her, and acknowledge her, and—— Nay, nay, groaned Pierre, never, never, could such syllables be one instant tolerated ​by her.

...

Love me she doth, thought Pierre, but how? Loveth she me with the love past all understanding? that love, which in the loved one's behalf, would still calmly confront all hate? whose most triumphing hymn, triumphs only by swelling above all opposing taunts and despite?—Loving mother, here have I a loved, but world-infamous sister to own;—and if thou lovest me, mother, thy love will love her, too, and in the proudest drawing-room take ​her so much the more proudly by the hand.—And as Pierre thus in fancy led Isabel before his mother; and in fancy led her away, and felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth, with her transfixing look of incredulous, scornful horror; then Pierre's enthusiastic heart sunk in and in, and caved clean away in him, as he so poignantly felt his first feeling of the dreary heart-vacancies of the conventional life.

Two things:

ough heartbreaking criticism of hatred toward love

This one phrase is the core of what I want to talk about: "God hath given me a sister, and unto thee a daughter, and covered her with the world's extremest infamy and scorn."

a brotherly relationship, which he believes is sent by God

acknowledging which will bring infamy! the world's extremest infamy and scorn!

Again and again in his writings Melville seems to bring up this longing for a brotherhood. In this post, though, I'll focus on Pierre.

In Pierre, this wish for a sister is present from the beginning, even before the discovery of Isabel.

So perfect to Pierre had long seemed the illuminated scroll of his life thus far, that only one hiatus was discoverable by him in that sweetly-writ manuscript. A sister had been omitted from the text. He mourned that so delicious a feeling as fraternal love had been denied him. Nor could the fictitious title, which he so often lavished upon his mother, at all supply the absent reality. This emotion was most natural; and the full cause and reason of it even Pierre did not at that time entirely appreciate. For surely a gentle sister is the second best gift to a man; and it is first in point of occurrence; for the wife comes after. He who is sisterless, is as a bachelor before his time. For much that goes to make up the deliciousness of a wife, already lies in the sister.

'Oh, had my father but had a daughter!' cried Pierre; 'some one whom I might love, and protect, and fight for, if need be. It must be a glorious thing to engage in a mortal quarrel on a sweet sister’s behalf! Now, of all things, would to heaven, I had a sister!'

As for the infamy and scorn, I don't think I'm the first to suggest that maybe the brother's love for an illegitimate sister could represent a deep love and sense of brotherhood of a man for another man. The text is filled with these kinds of renamings: mother to sister, sister to wife, and so on. Not to mention Pierre's early relatipnship with Glen. I do find it fascinating that marrying a sister is what he thought would be sympathetic enough to the public to get away with writing about. Not to say that he did get away with it, but wow.

So Pierre explores this relationship—not just what if Pierre and Isabel could run away together and be happy, but what it would be like within the society of that time and place, with all of its limitations, as well as the limitation of being bound to another person, to pursue and commit to this bond that would lead to ostracism, and even people around him saying that he'll go to hell for it, but that Pierre truly, deeply believes is a love from God!!

Infallibly he knows that his own voluntary steps are taking him forever from the brilliant chandeliers of the mansion of Saddle Meadows, to join company with the wretched rush-lights of poverty and woe. But his sublime intuitiveness also paints to him the sun-like glories of god-like truth and virtue; which though ever obscured by the dense fogs of earth, still shall shine eventually in unclouded radiance, casting illustrative light upon the sapphire throne of God.

and

Is Love a harm? Can Truth betray to pain? Sweet Isabel, how can hurt come in the path to God? Now, when I know thee all, now did I forget thee, fail to acknowledge thee, and love thee before the wide world's whole brazen width—could I do that; then might'st thou ask thy question reasonably and say—Tell me, Pierre, does not the suffocating in thee of poor Bell's holy claims, does not that involve for thee unending misery? And my truthful soul would echo—Unending misery! Nay, nay, nay. Thou art my sister and I am thy brother; and that part of the world which knows me, shall acknowledge thee; or, by heaven, I will crush the disdainful world down on its knees to thee, my sweet Isabel!'

'The menacings in thy eyes are dear delights to me; I grow up with thy own glorious stature; and in thee, my brother, I see God's indignant ambassador to me, saying—Up, up, Isabel, and take no terms from the common world, but do thou make terms to it, and grind thy fierce rights out of it! Thy catching nobleness unsexes me, my brother; and now I know that in her most exalted moment, then woman no more feels the twin-born softness of her breasts, but feels chain-armour palpitating there!'

and

'Isabel,' cried Pierre, 'I stand the sweet penance in my father’s stead, thou, in thy mother’s. By our earthly acts we shall redeemingly bless both their eternal lots; we will love with the pure and perfect love of angel to an angel. If ever I fall from thee, dear Isabel, may Pierre fall from himself; fall back forever into vacant nothingness and night!'

But alas... and especially like the response to Moby-Dick... (I love the title of this section: MORE LIGHT, AND THE GLOOM OF THAT LIGHT. MORE GLOOM, AND THE LIGHT OF THAT GLOOM.)

But the thoughts we here indite as Pierre's are to be very carefully discriminated from those we indite concerning him. Ignorant at this time of the ideas ​concerning the reciprocity and partnership of Folly and Sense, in contributing to the mental and moral growth of the mind; Pierre keenly upbraided his thoughtlessness, and began to stagger in his soul; as distrustful of that radical change in his general sentiments, which had thus hurried him into a glaring impropriety and folly; as distrustful of himself, the most wretched distrust of all. But this last distrust was not of the heart; for heaven itself, so he felt, had sanctified that with its blessing; but it was the distrust of his intellect, which in undisciplinedly espousing the manly enthusiast cause of his heart, seemed to cast a reproach upon that cause itself.

But though evermore hath the earnest heart an eventual balm for the most deplorable error of the head; yet in the interval small alleviation is to be had, and the whole man droops into nameless melancholy. Then it seems as though the most magnanimous and virtuous resolutions were only intended for fine spiritual emotions, not as mere preludes to their bodily translation into acts; since in essaying their embodiment, we have but proved ourselves miserable bunglers, and thereupon taken ignominious shame to ourselves. Then, too, the never-entirely repulsed hosts of Commonness, and Conventionalness, and Worldly Prudent-mindedness return to the charge; press hard on the faltering soul; and with inhuman hootings deride all its nobleness as mere eccentricity, which further wisdom and experience shall assuredly cure. The man is as seized by arms and legs, and convulsively pulled either way by his own indecisions and doubts. Blackness advances her banner over this cruel altercation, and he droops and swoons beneath its folds.

Still, Pierre proposes his plan to Isabel (who has just mentioned "this strange, mysterious, unexampled love between us").

'Whatever outer things might possibly be mine; whatever seeming brightest blessings; yet now to live uncomforting and unloving to thee, Isabel; now to dwell domestically away from thee; so that only by stealth, and base connivances of the night, I could come to thee as thy related brother; this would be, and is, unutterably impossible. In my bosom a secret adder of self-reproach and self-infamy would never leave off its sting. Listen. But without gratuitous dishonour to a memory which—for right cause or wrong—is ever sacred and inviolate to me, I cannot be an open brother to thee, Isabel. But thou wantest not the openness; for thou dost not pine for empty nominalness, but for vital realness; what thou wantest, is not the occasional openness of my brotherly love; but its continual domestic confidence. Do I not speak thine own hidden heart to thee? say, Isabel? Well, then, still listen to me. One only way presents to this; a most strange way, Isabel; to the world, that never throbbed for thee in love, a most deceitful way; but to all a harmless way; so harmless in its essence, Isabel, that, seems to me, Pierre hath consulted ​heaven itself upon it, and heaven itself did not say Nay. Still, listen to me; mark me. As thou knowest that thou wouldst now droop and die without me; so would I without thee. We are equal there; mark that, too, Isabel. I do not stoop to thee, nor thou to me; but we both reach up alike to a glorious ideal! Now the continualness, the secretness, yet the always present domesticness of our love; how may we best compass that, without jeopardising the ever-sacred memory I hinted of? One way—one way—only one! A strange way, but most pure. Listen. Brace thyself: here, let me hold thee now; and then whisper it to thee, Isabel. Come, I holding thee, thou canst not fall.'

He held her tremblingly; she bent over toward him; his mouth wet her ear; he whispered it.

The girl moved not; was done with all her tremblings; leaned closer to him, with an inexpressible strangeness of an intense love, new and inexplicable. Over the face of Pierre there shot a terrible self-revelation; he imprinted repeated burning kisses upon her; pressed hard her hand; would not let go her sweet and awful passiveness.

Then they changed; they coiled together, and entangledly stood mute.

Wow!!! Intense!! And heaven itself did not say nay!!!

But when they flee to the city, the first place where they find shelter is a jail, which fills up with people who have commited sexual crimes.

I want to talk about the consequences more in another post, but one more thing:

'Say, Pierre; doth not a funerealness invest me? Was ever hearse so plumed?—Oh, God! that I had been born with blue eyes, and fair hair! Those make the livery of heaven! Heard ye ever yet of a good angel with dark eyes, Pierre?—no, no, no—all blue, blue, blue—heaven's own blue—the clear, vivid, unspeakable blue, which we see in June skies, when all clouds are swept by.—But the good angel shall come to thee, Pierre. Then both will be close by thee, my brother; and thou ​mayest perhaps elect,—elect!—She shall come; she shall come.—When is it to be, dear Pierre?'

This idea: had I been born differently physically, I could have been your good angel.

[marybatson]

mine is out for delivery tonight ..!

I was curious and checked eBay again and I didn’t expect to see this listing which is a really really good price for the entire set (it’s pretty rare to find them sold together!!) so if anyone’s interested & has the means go for it!!!!

my favorite post-dc acquisition cap marvel writer just has to be bridwell.. I recommend reading this collection online too if you’re not interested in a physical copy ☺️

actually employment is amazing bc I just bought this entire set and didn’t feel the world crumble beneath my feet

[jasposeyblog]

Celebrate!  

[starry-skies-116]

Mutant!Afton Children AU- Part 2: An Unprecedented Omen

Colors. Numbers. Cacophony of light and sound, warmth and cold- the nectarous, cloyingly thick and bittersweet taste of life and death and rebirth.

Only those met him.

Only dreams and ballads of abstract feeling and the vast unknown, not the nightmares that wished ill fate upon him so.

Evan knows that the soul can take on many forms- one moment he lays upon the ornate throne above of which he rightfully claimed, with subjects of his own creation bowing at his feet- another moment he is a spirit adrift through dilapidated halls, heart awash with sorrow- glimpsing familiar faces in the mist lost to time, just out of reach as he searched for love- for memories of family and different lifetimes.

There are many bodies he takes across the ages, mortal yet immortal, the same being living many a lifetime- a simple prokaryotic organism, diminutive and miniscule and insignificant, so unassuming as to pass the hours swimming so happily in the pond it was born. And with the other forms he took- a butterfly, a bird, a spirit, an unnatural and immortal extolled beast that was perfect in every way- his heart began to grow warmer with every slow beat, trembling and unfolding gradually into full consciousness with every story imparted unto him.

There are many sights he sees, that have been and yet never were, and yet also were- the Gardens of Babylon, the Pantheon, the greatest and mightest of pyramids- even the beginnings of new universes and wonderful incarnations of existence, destined to end only to begin yet again. The memory hadn’t all but left him- there were fragments, droplets within as he were left with trembling echoes that could be reawakened at the will of the forces greater than his form, every planet and star and celestial body reflected in the sky a shard of memory.

Time stretches out, elastic and ever-bendable, wrinkled and yet not broken like the eggshell it was rumored to be- the moment, the moment, playing and replaying in his head, the echoes of the pasts and a billion thousand hundred million presents and futures before him all at once. Yet the moment, that moment- the screams, the crunch, the grinding of the gears and the insistence of the thousand-voiced, disembodied whispers won’t get out of his head.

“Stop… stop!” he begs.

The raw, sheer power thrumming like rage and heat and a writhing monster incarnate dwelling beneath his bones and flesh and very soul, awakening from the once dormant state and now rearing its head, roaring and wailing to be set free, oh so gloriously free. It chants, practically sings Evan’s name with a reverence, an utter defiance due a king, a god- a reverence that forces his heart to soar and swell with a strange, dangerous pride of loving such worship as he found himself wanting, demanding more.

Lightning quelled and oceans vaporize, the heavens and the earth devastated and rent asunder, every part of him could feel the phantasmal sensation of ascension beneath his fingertips- ever growing as he crossed into the state of enlightenment others so desperately sought, the light thrumming, growing stronger, stronger, yet even stronger inside…

“... Ev… w… up…!”

The gentle, distorted flutter of a butterfly’s wings. The crescendo of the chants and choir in his name, a dark and lilting ballad, melodiously sharp and foreign in tongue yet somehow recognizable as an ode to him. The burning of a triskele’s crest before his eyes, the constellation of the same emblem ablaze in the star-speckled sky.

“Wa…ke up…!”

The tilt of a brow and the head. The grinding of the gears of fate- the bloom of a flower akin to moments before his eyes, stretching out into ages upon aeons into an infinity heretofore lived yet never seen. Arms spread wide, the incessant ticking of a clock now reversed, the trickling of scarlet sands of the dunes falling to the bottom of the hourglass, only for the peculiar device to be turned on its head upside down once more.

Time- once before he had no time. Now, all the time in the world was at his beck and call, the phantasmal sensation beneath his fingertips like the slick, pulsating wet heart of a slumbering titan.

It swayed, ever so flattered, into his favor, such sublime, celestial power at his disposal, tempting, caressing, beckoning to him and from within…

As if it were now his muse. 

As if it were a part of him… as if he and it were one…

“Wake up, Evan, damnit!”

H-huh!?

Evan didn’t even know about the shriek and the exclamation resembling that of a cry of indignation that left his mouth until the moment had passed, and the sudden exhaustion that sagged him down, seeping into his bones and rendering him bedridden- incapacitated, he even daresay.

“Blast-!” he shrieks, feeling the shuddering convulsion of muscles at last leave his body as he cranes his neck- it was the only place where he wasn’t essentially paralyzed. Sweat trickles down his neck as a familiar feverish sensation greets him- was it a cold, mayhaps? Flu? Chills? Was that why he had fainted and received such peculiar dreams, perhaps?

Michael interrupts his train of thought by basically tackling him, violently grabbing him by the fabric of his shoulders and shaking him. “What the hell happened to you? You got us both grounded, and now you’ve the gall to be having a seizure and mumbling some nonsense to yourself in your sleep, in addition to a bloody fever? You do know that Mum and Lizbeth are in one helluva state over your welfare, right?”

Utterly puzzled, the confused gaze of tired and dark, glimmering compound eyes glance back into warm ocean blue ones. “Ah… how long have I slept, then?” Evan murmurs as a haphazardly strung together question, brain quite not working as he glances back to the window, the sky no longer reflecting the sun’s early evening afterglow. “Oho, it’s duskfall,” he utters, gaze slightly widening. “I’ve only been knocked out for around an hour or two, I suppose.”

“An hour or two?” Michael hisses, glaring at him with the sparkle of a legitimately concerned expression- and for a moment, Evan thinks he’s hallucinating- no way can Michael ever care for the unrequited love his younger brother showed unless it was out of obligation, can’t he?

“You were asleep for an entire fortnight and then some, you bloody sod- you would’ve been out cold and sick tonight, too, had you not awoken when you did,” Michael hisses, and the truth of the revelation gives the younger one a rather unceremonious reality check as he blinks a couple of times to process the information.

Almost an entire day? Say it is not so.

“Wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to dub me comatose, then…!” the brunette murmurs, fingers subconsciously ghosting over the fabric of his shirt as Elizabeth peeks into the room, tucking a lock of ginger hair behind one ear and carrying a glass of water in the other as his younger sister scurried towards him. “You’re not wrong, and neither is he.”

Curious and worried green eyes stare up at him, and Evan cannot help but feel a familiar fondness for her, in the form of a glimmer returning to his gentle, curved eyes, and a protective tenderness inching into his demeanor- his every movement and touch, making itself known. “Why were you asleep for so long, Ev…? Mummy’s crying over you… she’s been praying every day for you, so that you can get better,” she babbles out hoarsely, tone packaged with the curiosity and unconditional concern due with the innocence that came with youth. “Y-you were even talking and crying in your sleep…! P-Please don’t scare us like t-that…!”

Her voice borders on the edge of a wail, and Evan takes her straight into his arms, wrapping her in a snug and comforting embrace, finding refuge in her presence alone. “There there, Liz… I’m quite alright, now, I assure you- though I’m still most likely bedridden due to how ailing I still am. Had anything occurred while I was asleep?”

Michael quirks an eyebrow, a rather amused smile crossing his lips. “It’s unsettling to even recall,” he grumbles. Elizabeth nods, adjusting the scarlet bow in her hair. “It was honestly terrifying and super wierd,” she recounts. “Every time you spoke or moved in your sleep, weird things would begin to happen- the mini fountain outside Uncle Henry’s house would stop flowing, windows would look broken only to ‘patch themselves up’ when we looked back, night and day today ended three hours later than it was supposed to, weird constellations and meteor showers and planets appeared in the sky- which looked like the hyperspace travel scenes from Star Wars, might I add… it was scary.”

“She cried,” the oldest among them muses once more, his signature smirk donned upon his face to which Elizabeth immediately protests in response. “Excuse you! I did not!” she hisses. 

“Did too,” Michael replies simply, sticking out his tongue rather childishly, to which their mother storms into the room. “The both of you, stop overwhelming him with your bickering,” Eleanor reprimands before proceeding to gently cup Evan’s face as if he were made of the most fragile of porcelain. “My sweet baby… I thought you would never wake up…!” she sobs out.

The boy was still all too stunned to speak. The fabric of reality itself had bent and wrinkled whilst I was asleep? The cycles of night and day being thrown off lightly, time involuntarily stopping the flow of water nearby?

The prophetic dream returns to his mind, the grinding of the gears, the faint whispers and the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass- such an unfamiliar sight, yet a sight that he felt belonged to him as he watched, paralyzed, limbs frozen and eyes transfixed as the spectacle pulled him steadily out of the dark cycle he was trapped in, and into the light of a higher revelation.

That basically confirmed all his suspicions. This wasn’t some feverish dream in the slightest, he thinks to himself as the faint sensation of consolidated time itself flickers in between his fingertips, not visible yet still known only to him, within and around him.

I actually have superpowers. What the fuck?

“Oh, no… suddenly I think I’m quite ravenous,” Evan finds himself blurting out as some sort of excuse- his stomach was indeed roiling from within, yet he barely found it within himself to rise from the couch due to just how simply exhausted he was. “I haven’t eaten for an entire night and then some, after all… right? You must be as well? Come now, then- we should fetch something for all of us.”

“What’s with trying to dodge the question?” Michael grumbles, rolling his eyes to which Elizabeth swiftly elbows him as a response and shoots eye daggers in his direction. “You hadn’t heard him? He’s starving and tired! Have some basic human decency, at least!” she chides before scurrying off to the kitchen.

Eleanor’s jade eyes gazed into Evan’s once more, narrowed in concern. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, to which Evan sighs and smiles the best lopsided grin he could muster. “Your concern means so much to me, Mother… but I’ll be fine, thank you.”

He wasn’t all that fine to begin with… but the premonitions continue to whisper to him visions of the future- that in this lifetime, things were about to change and take a turn for the more interesting.

Whether it be for good or bad… well, hah- who shall ever know until the moment comes to pass? All he knows is that this power shall make him swear to cut a path that was his very own.

What life shall we all live this time?

***

Author’s Note: Short ass chapter go brrrr- but the next part is going to be vERY interesting, I promise you that!

[savannahawthorne]

LIA HAVELOCK | THE DAY OF THE VICTORY TOUR

Back before the modern days, there lived a time even before the ‘once upon a times’ present in our lore. It was a time of glory, wisdom, and a time of much adventure. It was a time when the peril was real as well as the ethereal glory of the celestial crown upon the Earth’s head. This was the time that the maiden, one who was as fair as the morning dew and as lovely as the springtime blooms, dwelled and lived…

Slowly, the sky overhead lit with the fiery red paint strokes of the dying day gave to the subtle tones of purple and inkinesss that would accompany the darkness of a moonless night. After all, District Four was a dark place when the moon did not shine and these days, the pale ribbon of moonlight was long sought after as the moon ventured on it’s trip away from the Earth. Still, there was a steady scratch of the pen long into the darkness with only the small lit orb of the flashlight (a haunting gift from a gleaming Capitol City) to accompany it.

For this maiden was a wondrous sight to behold; her golden hair was made of the purest sunbeams for it gave off the warming glow in which the blooms sprang into being. In her eyes, eyes that were so cerulean even the sky was jealous, you might have expected to see puffs of cumulus clouds frolick. So special was this maiden, when she pranced around flowers bloomed in her wake as a humble offering from the Earth in celebration of her glory and virtuous nature inherited from her mother; Mother Earth.

One fair day, forest breeze flowing through her hair tangling it gentle knots and the sweet aroma of petals kissing the air, that Persephone wandered lost as a gentle fawn guided her way. A fawn whose spots had begun to fade in favor of the tiny velvet horns erupting from it’s head as the creature made its way into adulthood.

How Persephone favored this creature as she followed it blindly, because it knew the way. The creature was her own sun and guiding star separate from the ones her father had created in the starry heavens above, to guide the mortals trapped in the mortal realm.

“Oh!” Persephone called out as the ground gave way below her feet. What was this horror that had come to encompass her world of flowers, greenery, and frolicking? This new world was dark, jagged marble that glittered in the darkness, fed by the River Styx which flowed through it.

Still she was not afraid, for her fawn had leaped down the hole in the Earth as a newly appointed soldier at her side. Looking at the creature, now stalwart and calm, Persephone christened it Virgil, a pure soul destined to guide her journey.

Lia stopped for a moment, tears now wetting the pages in her hands as the tide lapped at her toes buried in the cool sand. Over her shoulder her constant companions, pale and transparent, watched silently as they urged her to continue her tale.

Somewhere in the darkness of this grand city, the City of the Underworld, her imprisoner waited with bated breath. For it was his darkest ambition for the fairest maiden to arrive in his city and be his own treasure to claim. It did not matter that her father, the mightest of the Gods, had denied his request. He was the mightiest of all, for Hades, ruled the land in which none could escape. After all, he was the light that cared for the souls of the land providing them with nourishment and a place to rest their immortal souls once the short flesh of mortality had been shed. No, it was Hades that should be worshiped above all.

Seeing the path behind them was blocked by stone as immovable as the past bricks molded by the sands of times, Persephone knew the way forward was their only option. “Come Virgil, we shall go forth and join this panem et circeneses.” Surely if they were victorious they would be allowed to return home to the forest of their youth and free to rejoice in the sun once more.

Pausing, Lia chewed her lip, her hand weary from a day’s work, but she knew the time was running out as the stars shifted across the sky. In the morning the time would come, a time when the light would be forced to rise until it surrendered to the darkness. It was with urgency that she went back to the task at hand and Persephone’s siren call.

Back on earth, the sun had slowly dipped in the sky and Mother Earth, Demeter, called her only child back from the forest. “Come my child, come and be well for we will dine on the harvest feast as we always do.” Only the sun slowly vanished behind the horizon and Demeter’s table remained empty. There would be no feast tonight or for many fortnight’s to come.

With lamenting tears, Demeter called out to her husband, the King of the Gods. ‘Oh where has our child gone? Our maiden of the springtime and the flowers?” She asked as she surveyed the area around them. Already the flowers had begun to wilt and give into the heat of the sun, baking the Earth in the glorious worth of summer.

Without the reassurances of her husband, who hadn’t a clue, Demeter called out again to the all-knowing God of the Sun, Helios. “Oh! My wisest friend, tell me where my daughter has perished because my heart aches with incurable sadness.”

Slowly, Helios paused his chariot in the sky hearing the desperate pleas of Mother Earth, causing an endless stream of sunbeams to shine down on the Earth. For this was not part of his journey, but he could not leave Demeter in such anguish.

“Sister Demeter, your child is not lost.” His voice called down laden with sorrow and regret. “She has been claimed by Hades, God of the Underworld, and shall not return to this land ever again as pentenace for your Husband’s wilful denial of his request for her hand in marriage.”

Demeter cried out in desperation for the words of the Sun God could not be true. Her child would one day return to her as it is a mother’s will to be with their children. Her daughter, Persephone, was far too fair and good to be damned to the pits of Hell. She would see to it that all should be set right again in the world…

Heavily, Lia sighed as she looked up, her blue eyes finding the first light of the day breaking on the horizon. In another time, this would have been her most cherished moment of the day. The moments in which a new beginning was born into life and when it was as if the world took a breath and began again, but the world had died months ago.

Yet, Persephone persisted in the dark despair of that grand city below having made her way to the gleaming City of the Damned. There her and her fawn, Virgil, who had now grown, were imprisoned in a palace that would even shame her father’s. Daily she was showered in expectations, but also gifts Hades believed her heart would desire.

With persistent tears, Persephone continued to bath the Underworld with her misery no gifts could cure. Gifts could not quell her longing to return to her mother and the green earth above, for she was not meant to be of this world. The glamour and glitz held no appeal to her as did her would-be-lover's pleas. Trials and tribulations were not her way, though, if she must, she swore up and down she would do as needed. For surely successful completion meant returning to the warmth of Demeter’s embrace.

Hastily, Lia finished the last pages of her writing and slammed the book shut with a resounding thud. The call of obligation rang out with the incoming tide and she knew she could not resist it’s call any longer. Life was like the tides after all, they came and went, and you were powerless to fight them. A lesson she had learned all too well in the days that had passed since the ‘fated’ one that hung still above her head like a guillotine.

Even as she stepped foot on the train, Persephone’s tale remained with her. A whisper under the blankets kind of tale that you could not help but pass along, even to a now phantom chaperone.

Back on Earth, Demeter mourned her child and swore there would be no warmth until all was set right. So, the Earth fell into a fitful slumber. Gone were the warm winds and sunbeams of the glory days. Her fits of rage had long banished Helios from the sky and a white blanket of snow, ice, and silence enveloped all the lands. It was then the cries of Zesus’ beloved mortals joined in the chorus of Mother Earth begging for Zeus to bring them relief.

Try as he might, Zeus could not convince Demeter to permit Helios to continue his journey across the sky. For what did it matter? The Earth would not bloom again in greenery and flowers until the Maiden of the Springtime returned, or was he so callous he had forgotten his daughter already?

“Hades!” Zeus called out in a fit of anger summoning his brother to his side. “I order you to return back what you have stolen.”

Haughty and with a laugh full of zeal, the God of the Underworld laughed at the request bequeathed to him. “Now brother, you have thrice denied my request for the hand of the fairest maiden, and now she is mine. All is as it should be.” Hades reasoned.

“This is my wish!” Zeus cried out in anger as he stomped his foot and pointed a thunderbolt at the God of the Underworld.

“No, this is the wish of your wife.” Hades pointed out. It had been longed known that Zeus, God of the Gods, long favored his daughter Athena above all others. “I have promised to bath Persephone in the finest riches of the Earth and care for her all the days of eternity.” He continued despite the anger resonating from his brother. “I can make her a queen, now that she has passed my trials and tribulations, and the souls of the Underworld will worship her as their own. Tell me, how is this not desirable?”

Frustration furrowed Zeus’ brow as he listened to the words of his brother. “You shall return the maiden to her mother before fortnight’s end.” He demanded as he settled into his lofty Olympus throne knowing the mortals would perish if Demeter’s anguish was not abated. “In return, I shall promise her to you for six months of the year as to permit you both what your hearts desire. I rule this as her father and as the Gods of All Gods on Olympus. This is final.”

The words swirled in Lia’s head as she embarked, tired and frazzled from her own fortnight’s journey. Ahead of her laid the gleaming city of marble and stone, but would forever be cloaked in darkness and misery. Here the wail of the Lost was the strongest and frequented her without relenting. Here the call of what might have been and could have been blurred until she could no longer untangle the ball of string they had become and set the world right.

If she turned her head to the right, Lia could almost hear the whispers of the fawn now grown in the wind urging her to keep going. The next part of the story playing on repeat was his favorite. His voice was soft and eager, much like it had been when they were children hushed by the silence of the night and the fear of being overheard and whisked back to bed without the story’s ending.

Eyes choked with tears, Lia had no other option than to allow the movie in her head to come to fruition. 

And so it was deemed that Perseophone should be returned to her mother Detemer. With a fit of joy and happiness, the maiden burst forth from the ground. In her wake, the flowers bloomed and the verdant grasses sprung up in a happy celebration of the return of the Springtime Maiden, easing away the cold light of winter.

Overjoyed, Demeter called out permission to Helios to continue his chariot ride across the sky and return the sun to the Earth. In all the days that followed, warmth and joy filled the earth and blossomed in their fields. Once again there was peace and prosperity until the fateful day Persephone would return to the under dwellings of the Earth and Demeter’s sadness would again envelope the Earth robbing it of its riches.

“Do not fear mother,” Persephone assured her mother as she gently wiped her tears from her cheeks with her thumb. “For I will be back before you know it. Until then, I shall do my best to comfort the souls of the departed. To brighten their world with the mercy you have shown me, your daughter. I shall bring forth the flowers and the bounty your love has bestowed upon me and bestow it upon them. I can be a wondrous Queen because I was created in your image and have grown in your love.” Persephone quietly told her mother hoping to alleviate her worries.

“Rest easy and take solace in the fact that we will meet again soon,” Persephone assured seeing the tears of Demeter had not slowed. “For the circle has no end and comes around again and again. As we are blood we are of one circle we cannot be truly parted, only temporarily parted and rejoined again and again.”

Knowing the final sand grain of her time had come close to slipping through the hourglass, Persephone slipped a golden halo of olive leaves onto her mother’s head. “May this continuous crown of golden leaves remind you of our circle and of my never ending love for you, my mother, my blood. Soon we will meet again and bask in the glory of our love for each other.”

Nodding, Demeter wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled softly. “And as my tribute to you, my only daughter, forsaken by her father, I shall weave golden circle crowns for all the Gods and they will wear them for all eternity as a symbol of your glory and sacrifice. When one thinks of golden crowns, they will know not only the strength needed to wear such a token but of the sacrifice it demands as you have demonstrated so grandly.”

With that proclamation, Demeter gifted morals the golden crown to wear upon the heads of those deemed worthy or to the children that frolic in the meadows or by the seaside dreaming the wild unkempt dreams of childhood.

With a snap Lia closed the book, the one embossed with the fallen golden crown resting upon a duo of silver coins, and slid it upon the shelf made of the finest mahogany. Staring back at her was the fine golden print adorning the side of the spine that simply said, “The Forgotten Lore of District Four” penned by Lia Havelock.

And while her book would no doubt be an unprecedented success, Lia knew the words were just that, words. Tales that were meant to be shared in times of joy, strength to draw from in times of hardship, and most importantly, to be acted out on the beach by children envisioning a future of bliss and growth.

Lia would also tell you there were no words more important than those simply stated on the first page of her book:

For Fenn and Atalanta, Our circle is not broken.

[jakethesequel]

With respect this list is for "would have been" not the man who wrote Hemaphrodite's Dream. Writing this shit places him firmly in the "verifiably was" category:

I know that winged sprite Who flew from heaven -- was it hell? - Into these bounds of light And music — yesternight -- Had some new song to tell. I saw a living soul Flame into mortal dress; Whose glance -- a fiery coal, Whose lips -- a ruby bowl Whose wine was wickedness. They were strange lips, I ween, Whereon no kiss might be, And teeth were sharp therein; Ivory and white and keen, Tameless as hungering sea. Strange body of my desire, Voluptuous, lithe, and wan; For, on my eyes drawn nigher, My hot blood turns to fire, Seeing nor maid nor man. [96] Not maid, not man -- the breast Like palaces of gold, Yet where my lips caressed, In the wild dove's wild nest A dove too soft to hold. No dove that Hylas knew, No dove that Sappho kissed, Nor in wide Heaven there grew This child of stranger dew Than God's good spirit wist. Yet his wings bare him high, Divine beyond control, And, like for love to die, I felt his arrow fly Within my very soul. Ah Love! the ambiguous kiss, Not man's nor woman's touch, In that estatic bliss- - Not hell's heat, as I wis, Had warmed us overmuch. Ah! Love! how fierce that night! With what unsung desire [97] Thy lips and mouth were bright, In mine eye to give light, And fire to kindle fire. Ah Love! nor king nor queen Of mine exhaustless flame, But comrade of my teen, Spouse of that epicene Incontinence of shame. Twin Love! Soul's dual spouse, Dream- serpent of my life, Rose- garland of my brows Within that ivory house, Sex with itself at strife. Were I a wanton stream, Thou mightest bathe in me, Yet in that happy dream Methought my heart did deem We mingled utterly. O sexless! deathless! fair Beyond the world to me, Thy love- gift I will wear, Thy joys my soul shall share, Being made one with thee. [98] So, love, the days may keep My nameless love from me; Yet over slumber's deep I will sail into sleep Thither to lie by thee, Hold thee with arms that cleave Lock thee in limbs that leap, Chain thee with lips that leave Kisses of blood to weave Castles of hope in sleep. Poppy ! best flower whose bud Sends dreams to men that die, I drain thy drowsy flood That our impatient blood May mingle utterly. So, Hermes, thou art wed, So, Aphrodite, mine, In one sweet spirit shed In one ambrosial bed, In one fair frame divine. Like clouds in rain, like seas Exultant as they roll, [99] We mix in ecstacies, And, as breeze melts in breeze, Thy soul becomes my soul. I come to thee with tears, Nameless immortal dove; Forget the fleet- foot years In the incarnate spheres Of our mysterious Love.

Wikipedia

List of historical figures who would have been chasers

[soldicriism]

>> Valga’s Spirits of Nature, Deus’ & Artificial Spirits

The world of Valga is home to several spirits of nature both great and small. All the Spirits within Valga serve as key functions as the lifeblood of the world. Without them, waters wouldn’t flow - they would stagnate, the wind wouldn’t blow, the lava inside the world would cool, the core would stop spinning, and life itself would cease to function - effectively killing the planet in the most cataclysmic fashion possible. They were created by the gods as a means of blessing the creation with life, and they all work together for this very purpose. All spirits serve a great purpose, and no spirits are more useless than the other - even something so insignificant as letting the rivers run its course has a great impact on the world around them. 

Smaller Spirits usually work in conjunction with the Cyurens (and sometimes other races when necessary), often forming a contract with them to borrow each others’ powers to not only heal/protect the world but also form what is necessary for the world around them. Their cooperation also is vital to keeping the flow of the mana of the world around them in check, so these two races have a very deep bond and history with one another. As such, it is not uncommon when a Cyuren passes away, the Spirit who had lent their powers to one Cyuren to be in the contract of the next in the bloodline as they live for thousands of years. 

Usually, the Spirits take whatever forms they wish, but in order to interact with mortals easier, they can choose to take on more humanoid forms. 

However, among the Spirits, the mightest of them are the ‘Deus’, or ‘Primordial Lords’, the Spirits as old as the creation itself, also called the ‘Firstborns’. They are the Kings and Queens of the Spirits, their words are the law and it is by their grace that the lesser spirits are allowed to interact with the members of the outside of their kind. This invitation extends even out towards Humans. As much as the Deus’ detests them for what they do to the world, and enslave their ‘children’ to power their cities, they allow it by the ‘grace of their creators’. 

These mighty beings serve as the main fuel source for the lesser spirits, without them and their blessings, their powers would simply cease to be. They would not have shapes, nor would they have any purpose. 

Therefore, the Deus’ remain largely neutral and only rise to the occasion when the Valga itself is in danger of being absolutely obliterated. However, when they do, their powers are absolutely devastating. They were also one of the key figures of letting the other races win their victories over Rift Spawns when they first invaded the planet by forming temporary contracts with Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Algridians, Cyurens, and Amorians. Their display of powers is so earth-shatteringly destructive that they can level mountains with so much as lifting a finger, their punches can crush continents, their roar rends the heavens and devastates the air around them. Their powers can potentially shape the creation of whatever image they see fit, but choose not to do so. They exist to serve and protect the planet that their creators have left behind.

However, their great powers are only overshadowed by their very creators. 

Among these Spirits, the most powerful are the ones who rival the gods themselves exists outside of Valga’s atmosphere and these two beings are known as the: ‘Sun Keeper’ and the ‘Moon Warden’. Nobody has seen their true forms, but they are known to serve an important purpose to the creation and have temples and artifacts dedicated to them. 

As of late, however, with the human’s uncontrollable expansion of the world, the Spirits have been shockingly in decline. They play an important role in powering several cities and kingdoms, and as such, the Human researchers created ‘Artificial Spirits’ with the help of the Dwarven engineering to create ‘Machinas’, the Artificial Spirits. They are fueled by ‘Grimoires’ and using souls of several executed criminals as its core. This outputs tremendous amounts of mana to power entire cities and massive constructs. They do not require contracts like the normal, lesser Spirits - they are largely autonomous in nature, and usually do not stop outputting mana until someones switch its ‘off switch’, otherwise their overproduction of mana would pollute the very air around them and cause Rift Spawns to manifest themselves in middle of cities. 

This case is largely uncommon, however, but when it does happen the respective kingdoms’ militaries are dispatched to deal with them. There hasn’t been a single case, however, of one becoming self-aware and causing havoc. Yet. 

A lot of the spirits see them as abominations. Mockery of their creation’s original image, and detest them to no end. 

[libidomechanica]

Is not left

The out they may self my fields a fully cradle loving its must with child! I cease her thou gave the Home daught loue his rents of time top herses were powery way towardrobes to land, kisse. Wises are no mortal true, I would you by you faith this vpon my fresh in a

Promething come—fall slip on them searching arms with content,

than into feaster. Fully, it me from heart offerene the for mistress to thy gray his flament: and gritter thine by hands old spring from though, steps, thy urgins in lowers. ( And clay lade some running

sings of while easy expens droom objects to the she in love, and we mightest of the glass its hing compile flagrant writ keep like, lady; only to beye, and carest trees threw trees abouting I loved) she

like sob on. Did I, ‘ worth I nother’s see; but heigh for own—he woman, his Cave that did smoult commons: ‘twas she bless to the green, in the dear frozen primrosest relightning heading anger, at have shall with suits. “; think, shield on strives: we light sunburn’ Saying lute-voice and as ‘ twas a-cold, and honourish’d my puppy’s head, ‘lest of a nour: he bade

as his story with thing betwixt with Tomyris and a decay with great till now my army she” no stolenty:

so swording with with the shepher{e}d comply

will among, and more;’ it is come tills it, The kind-hearth, who world agained sleepy-ey’d angels, were Herried. By thy sway sung what new the darest, I once

more; withough it For yet something you leadsman’s

desolaced to

shake your victity. be body no other hearth.’’

[dwellordream]

“A major characteristic of Renaissance thought was the search for interconnection and synthesis. Renaissance thinkers resisted the dogmas of the medieval Church and sought to bring together what had previously seemed exclusive modes of recognizing and describing experience. While there emerged competing explanations of humankind’s place in the universe and the degree to which destiny was determined by providence, there was unity in the high valuation placed on eloquence. This respect for creative self-expression signalled a new appreciation of humankind’s ability to break free of original sin. 

So, while the superstitions and fatalistic cautions of the medieval age did not disappear altogether, Renaissance scholars and artists managed to avoid major confrontations with the Church; rather than attacking medieval theology, they returned to the classics in search of spiritual renewal. Poliziano, the celebrated poet who translated Greek works into Latin, expressed this renewed appreciation of the classical period when he admitted that ‘I am not Cicero ... it is through Cicero that I have learnt how to be myself’ (cited in Portoghesi 1972:27). He was voicing a growing recognition among Renaissance scholars and artists that they were in need of reacquiring the precision, eloquence, and sensuality of a bygone age. 

Another development that affected civility norms was the manner in which the ‘virtues’ were analysed and discussed. Medieval courtly literature provided ample lists of the various virtues which, when taken together, made for an ideal individual. Renaissance thought, on the other hand, addressed the issue of ‘virtue’ itself, an inner quality not necessarily connected to the practice of a series of rituals, but, rather, a fountainhead of ethical comportment already contained in the human psyche. Renaissance works praised humankind and admired it instead of loathing its mortality. Men and women were not seen as passive recipients of divine will but as active participants in the fulfillment of God’s plan on earth (Mazzeo 1965:53). 

Even the notion of the hero was transformed during the Renaissance. In his major work, De viris illustribus, Petrarch treated the military and political champions of antiquity as central movers of history, contradicting St Augustine’s view of history as a predestined journey controlled by divine forces. Petrarch’s heroes possessed their own wills. Their virtue rested in their own perfection rather than in a manifestation of divine providence. Motivating their virtuous acts was their own personal quest for mortal glory. God did not necessarily appoint these heroes as chosen ones – they succeeded as a result of their own inner motivations. A human-centred intellectual tradition was emerging and it would be further refined through the works of the Protestant reformers and the thinkers of the Enlightenment (Lévi 2002). 

Further facilitating the formation of a broadened public civility was the development of a vernacular language. Petrarch’s Rimes were written in Italian. So was Boccaccio’s Decameron, which retold stories of love, adventure, and the oddities of powerful people. These writers exemplified the ‘educational acquaintance’ favoured by Aristotle, who had explained that the ‘universally educated’ person was the one who was capable of practising critical thinking in as many fields as possible. The rising secular republicanism of the Renaissance thinkers was eloquently expressed by Gianfrancesco Pico de Mirandola (cited in Burckhardt [1860] 1944), who, in his famous Speech on the Dignity of Man (Oratio de hominis dignitate), categorically denied the Church’s medieval fatalism: 

‘I have set thee,’ says the Creator to Adam ‘in the midst of the world, that thou mayst the more easily behold and see all that is therein. I created thee  a being neither heavenly nor earthly, neither mortal nor immortal only, that thou mightest be free to shape and to overcome thyself. Thou mayst sink into a beast, and be born anew to the divine likeness. The brutes bring from their mother’s body what they will carry with them as long as they live; the higher spirits are from the beginning, or soon after, what they will be for ever. To thee alone is given a growth and a development depending on thine own free will. Thou bearest in thee the germs of a universal life.’ (215–16) 

Pico’s speech departed remarkably from medieval accounts of the Creation. For Pico, mankind was not condemned to eternal shame and suffering, but was given the opportunity of perfecting itself by divine mandate. Pico was representing an important theme of the Renaissance: man achieves dignity by choosing between the higher and lower levels of experience, thereby distinguishing himself as a being capable of discovering his own divinity. But the fact that he can err and choose lower levels of being and awareness is also indicative of his humanity – he is neither absolutely good nor absolutely evil. In Pico’s universe, ambition forms a central part of human action. The outcome of such ambition is what determines the unfolding of a particular life; the individual remains free throughout to make or break himself. 

What was remarkable about the Renaissance was that no serious clash occurred between the humanists and the Church. During the High Renaissance outstanding writers and artists were even rewarded with prestigious Church offices. Some classical scholars, such as Pietro Bembo, Girolamo Alexander, and Jacopo Sadoleto, were even appointed as cardinals (Ralph 1973:147). Renaissance art also reflected the growing acceptance of the legitimacy of human agency and the human body. Byzantine art differed little from early Christian art. There was a frozen and almost superhuman dignity to the personages being depicted. 

Many of the Byzantine works had a triple purpose: to illustrate holy manuscripts, to tell the story of Christianity, and to ‘illuminate’ what otherwise might have been monotonous text. Evident in Byzantine painting was the domination of the body by the spirit. Many of the paintings show figures with oversized heads animated by piercing eyes and flattened bodies hidden behind garments. In effect, these paintings had a storytelling quality to them; elements of the paintings were juxtaposed to show events in different time frames; hence the lack of perspective in most Byzantine (and Romanesque) works. The eye had to travel from one detail to the next in order to reconstruct the story being told. 

The art of the Renaissance, especially the High Renaissance (1500 onwards), provided a full representational image, complete with proper perspective. The use of perspective (the convergence of lines at a point of infinity in order to show all objects in proper proportion) made the viewer a central player in the image. The viewer could take any position desired and still see the picture in proper perspective and with little thematic change. The participant aspect of perspective painting was emancipatory. Gazing into a picture, the viewer became conscious of himself as both the receiver of the image as well as a central player in its composition. 

This innovation replaced the symbolic representation of life with an actual and real space for the undistorted viewing of the corporeal and the secular. Men and women now dared to gaze on the creation as they saw it rather than as the way they imagined God saw it. This was a crucial development in the history of personal identity and the emergence of a self-centred psychological awareness that would have substantial effects on civility practices. Renaissance humanism, however, did not argue for ‘kindness’ towards humans as much as it did for secular freedom. Many princes who committed the cruellest acts considered themselves devout humanists. 

The irony of the Renaissance lies in the fact that, precisely at a time when notions of individualism and secular liberty were taking root, class distinctions continued to be passionately maintained. Despite the existence of citizen assemblies, the city-states system fostered a culture in which strong princely rulers provided paternalistic leadership. Whether such rule produced tyranny or a benevolent administration was largely dependent on the personality of the prince who was in power. This paternalism was reminiscent of the ancient Roman tradition of paternal authority that granted total power to the father of a family, even the right to order his children’s banishment from Rome. 

With this resurging paternalism came a broadening of administrative responsibility: The prince is to take everything into his charge, to maintain and restore churches and public buildings, to keep up the municipal police, to drain the marshes, to look after the supply of wine and corn; so to distribute the taxes that the people can recognize their necessity; he is to support the sick and the helpless, and to give his protection and society to distinguished scholars, on whom his fame in after ages will depend. (Burckhardt [1860] 1944:6) This new philosophy of ‘efficacy’ was also beginning to regulate the behaviour of rulers. 

Burckhardt explains that, increasingly, what mattered to the population was not the legitimacy of the ruler but his efficacy. There was a shift from the fixity of a feudal aristocracy towards a competitive political environment in which the fate of a ruler was considerably determined by his ability to manage and protect his interests. Ingenuity and the ability to promote self – accompanied by strong military and diplomatic resources – were required to rationalize and maintain authority within a highly competitive political environment. This accountability in the face of political reality appeared first in Italy because Italian rulers were not able, like their northern counterparts, to depend on the support of a strong feudal aristocracy and, therefore, had to prove themselves through their own talents.

Although this facilitated tyranny and petty despotism, it also brought to power many exceptional men who managed to embody the Renaissance conception of the ‘ideal prince.’ The possibility of overthrowing one’s predecessor prior to his natural death gave rise to the spirit of the ‘public servant’ type of politician who turned to his peers and the public for approval and support. We see here the emergence of ‘public opinion’ as a determining factor in the political longevity of a ruler. This had a certain democratizing effect, even though democracy itself was in its nascent stages and tyranny was rampant in some of the city-states.

The patrician nature of political organization was also reflected in the organization of the family. Just as important as a man’s title and personal reputation as a citizen was the reputation and status of his family. The upholding of family values and the close surveillance of one’s family history was of major concern during the Renaissance. Alberti ([c.1460] 1969), writing his partially autobiographical book I libri della famiglia set down four laws for a family that wished to be materially and morally successful: (1) respect the name of the family; (2) produce as many male children as possible; (3) avoid conflicts with other families; and (4) cultivate networks of friendship with other suitable families. 

Family ties were of paramount importance, and a nobleman’s family unit, casato, could easily comprise upwards of fifty people, including direct and indirect members of the family, protegés, servants, and slaves. The misbehaviour of one member could tarnish the reputation  of the entire family. The rank of a person’s family, therefore, often determined the type of life the person would have. In Florence and Tuscany, when a member of a family committed a crime or incurred a debt, other members of the family were also held accountable. This internalizing of commitment and responsibility towards members of the family led to a blood-mutuality that rationalized vendettas between families. 

The honour of the family became sacred – an honourable person conducted his affairs with integrity and remained ready to defend the reputation of his family, even if this required confrontational behaviour that did not accord with Christian virtues. Within this climate of intense mercantile and political competition it became necessary for families to somehow balance the pragmatics of resource management with virtuous and just behaviour. Despite his recognition of the cruelties of the merchant patriciate, Alberti reassured that action combined with an intelligent management of spiritual and material resources would increase the health and longevity of a family: 

Fortune’s cruel floods quickly submerge and destroy the family that throws itself upon those waves either by abandoning restraint and moderation in prosperity or by lacking a firm posture and a prudent self-control in the face of hostile storms. (30) 

Alongside the pragmatics of resource and reputation management he placed the classical virtue of noble thought and action: Nobility of soul, we cannot but recognize, is itself sufficient to ascend and to possess the highest peaks: glorious praise, eternal flame, immortal glory. It seems undeniable that nothing is easier to acquire than this nobility, if only you seek it and value it. (29) Thus, the practice of ‘magnanimity’ (Aristotle’s megalopsychia) and ‘calculated deference’ became a means of imposing law, order, and meaning on what was becoming a chaotic and competitive society. In a volatile political and economic climate, it became important for a family to develop relationships with other families more powerful and influential than itself. 

Fortuna (fortune) could be extremely capricious in this new society. Divine providence had helped explain many unforeseen calamities during the theological Middle Ages. In the Renaissance, however, chance came to compete with the will of God. At the back of most powerful and wealthy men’s minds was the fear of suddenly losing their fortune through erroneous business decisions or faulty political manoeuvrings. Such loss of wealth led to loss of political influence and then to a host of other misfortunes such as difficulty in finding the right marriage partners for one’s children. 

In Florence, where respect for the new wealth was most intense, loss of wealth was rarely looked upon with sympathy; men who fell into poverty were even shunned by their own relatives. Deference became a means for promoting non-conflicted and profitable alliances. This quality was quite different from the submissiveness of the feudal vassal. A person now deferred to another in recognition of the other’s identity and in order to avoid outright confrontation; this deference was more an act of alliance than of submission. This transformation in the notion of virtue as an obligation to God into an obligation to community becomes quite understandable when viewed from the economic perspective. 

As we will argue in more detail in the chapter on the early roots of British parliamentarianism, the surplus of goods during the Renaissance surpassed the amount of gold and silver. Credit became introduced as a means of furthering economic activity and keeping up with rising demands for goods. As Charles Tilly (2005b) explains in Trust and Rule, ‘networks of trust’ had to be established in parallel with political regimes. These networks of trust brought together individuals who cooperated to verify and validate individuals worthy of trust and exclude those who were not (11–17). Thus, it was necessary for someone wishing to prosper in the new society of the Renaissance to develop a reputation as a person of upright standing. 

This was, in effect, a measure of that person’s right to be included in mercantile networks of exchange, many of which were based on deferred payments. So, secular civility can, in a certain measure, be understood as a direct outcome of accelerating mercantilism. This is particularly noticeable in England in the sixteenth century (chapter 6). The practice of ‘deference,’ placed in the hands of powerful individuals, became a formality and a tactic of discourse rather than a guarantee of consistent and incorruptible honour and sympathy. 

Cosimo de Medici was reported to maintain a very simple and humble merchant’s demeanour during his daily affairs, but the palace he built at the Via Large was the most lavish in Florence. He was known to be quite merciless towards those who stood in his way while very loyal and deferential towards those who proved themselves trustworthy allies. Caution, mistrust, and aggressive competition were consequences of this new economic climate. And ‘deference’ was the behavioural tactic that the elites (and would-be elites) used to smoothen over hazardous situations and confirm their loyalty towards persons whom they considered useful allies or benefactors. 

Cosimo de Medici (cited in Gage 1968) reveals this spirit of calculation when he writes to one of his envoys, instructing him on how to become a master of the art of respect: I know that some time ago as a young man you were able to entertain two or three women at the same time, and I remind you that [dealing with Cardinals] is no greater effort or care, because it is enough to be discreet and do or say nothing that displeases those who trust you, seeking to gain with every man and lose with none. (192) 

Receiving deferential treatment, however, was not a privilege enjoyed by every Italian citizen. Palmieri held little sympathy for the peasants and labourers who constituted at least one-third of Italian society in the mid-1400s. Unmoved by the sufferings of the destitute, he wrote: Let the working masses and the humblest sector of the middle classes struggle for the good of the Republic ... If the lowest order of society earn enough food to keep them going from day to day, then they have enough. (cited in Gage 1968:101) 

As the guilds and communes lost their republican authority, the less influential were released from the status guaranteed them by the older corporate societies and were left to their own resources. For the man who was released into this new mercantile society without resources of his own, there remained only one option: to form alliances and ‘bonds of obligation’ with men who possessed the power and influence to help make his life livable. In effect, the powerful patriarchs of the newly emerging towns and cities had replaced the old feudal lords.”

- Benet Davetian, “Secular Civility in the Renaissance.” in Civility: A Cultural History

[mrsathya]

DC's 🔱 AQUAMAN 🔱 - King of ATLANTIS /⚡SHAZAM!⚡- World's Mightest Mortal -- **Jason Momoa 🤝 Zachary Levi** 🤩🤩🤩🤩 https://www.instagram.com/p/B-zYnDpH-0C/?igshid=yjt730imrq8j

[jasposeyblog]

My acquisition of Captain Marvel tarot sketch card by Carlos Furuzono 

[jasposeyblog]

My acquisition of Captain Marvel by Tony Perna

[jasposeyblog]

My purchase of the original ink of Captain Marvel at the FAN EXPO Boston 2019 by Mostafa Moussa