#i know thine soul twin

[alexanderdarkomorningstar]

[definesanity]

I'm so happy that you like Elden Ring and SAGAU, because here's a concept I thought of recently and I'm dying to share it with someone - SAGAU Imposter AU, but with Ranni the Witch!Reader. Self-indulgence on my part (and Elden Ring spoilers) but hear me out:

- Canon Ranni has unusual allies, such as a troll blacksmith whose species are used as slaves in the Lands Between. Ranni!Reader who isn't the only one disgusted by the Archons' actions - Traveler and Paimon are officially done with the Seven's sh*t, and offer Ranni!Reader their help. The 'truth of this world' can wait, now that Traveler's seen the true face of the Archons. Maybe Nahida chose to be reasonable and stay out of it. Maybe the Tsaritsa is too busy with her own plans to care about some mere mortal 'stealing' the Creator's face. Either way the twins are reunited earlier than expected, and Ranni!Reader now has an army at her back.

- Canon Ranni stole a fragment of Destined Death to kill her flesh and Godwyn's soul. Ranni!Reader is the Creator, she has sovereignty over death in Teyvat. Ranni!Reader lets the Archons capture and publically execute her, to reveal her true identity (golden blood ✨️) and turn the mortals of Teyvat against their idiot Archons. Speaking of Archons, they're all horrified and panicking. The once-cheering crowd is in silent shock, then all hell breaks loose. The Hydro Archon, who struck the killing blow, becomes a soulless shell - a living corpse, just like poor Godwyn. Unlike Godwyn, not a single soul cries for Focalores. This was her punishment, after all. She brought this on herself.

- We don't know who crafted canon Ranni's doll body, maybe she did it herself. Maybe Ranni!Reader does the same, maybe she employs the services of a certain wandering puppet, or perhaps the doll body is a peace offering from a certain Fatui Harbinger...

- Canon Ranni wants to completely remove the influence of Outer Gods from the Lands Between. Ranni!Reader wants the same, just replace 'Outer Gods' with 'Celestia.' It's not dissimilar to what both the Abyss Order and the Fatui want. For all that the two groups hate each other, they are willing to accept Ranni!Reader's radical proposal. They can go back to killing each other when this is done, for all she cares, but they need to keep it together for this one plan.

- Canon Ranni takes the Tarnished as her consort in her ending. For Ranni!Reader - well, there's the Abyss twin and Traveler, for starters. The Adepti, Xiao and Ganyu, who turned their backs on Rex Lapis after Reader's execution. Childe, who's fighting style could translate perfectly into Elden Ring. Any one of the Anemo boys. Pick a fave and go for it, honestly.

- Canon Ranni, once the Erdtree is burned and the Elden Beast is dead, brings forth the Age of Stars and removes the influence of Outer Gods on the Lands Between. Ranni!Reader and co. crush Celestia, undo the curse on the people of Khaenri’ah, and Ranni!Reader purges Teyvat of divine influence forever - no more Archons, no more Celestial gods, no vague and infuriating requirements to 'earn' elemental powers - the elements can be wielded by anyone now if they have the stats, catalyst and slots for it. The people of Teyvat are free to take control their own destinies, for better and for worse. Still preferable to being divine pawns for uncaring gods.

- Canon Ranni, despite what the English translation would have you believe, departs the Lands Between for the stars, taking the not only her consort with her, but the Elden Ring itself, to ensure the Lands stay god-free. Ranni!Reader bids Nahida and the Tsaritsa a heartfelt farewell - they committed no crime against the Reader, so what is there to forgive? But then the other, now-mortal Archons come to grovel, desperately begging Ranni!Reader to stay, spewing endless apologies. Various Vision holders join in. Ranni!Reader is unmoved.

"Ye art not sorry for thine actions. Only that ye were wrong. Were I not thy God, but a regular mortal, ye wouldst feel no remorse. I care not that I wasn't recognized - I care that ye were willing to make up a crime, and kill innocent people for something they could not control. Monsters, the lot of ye. T'was worth it, I hope, this callous and heartless behavior - I loved ye once, truly, but no more." Ranni!Reader turns to the Vision holders, "If anyone, blame them," Reader points to the heartbroken Archons, "t'was them who caused this. Do what ye will with them - this is the last ye will ever see of me."

Ranni!Reader departs. Perhaps to other worlds, perhaps the Abyss. Perhaps she has a consort at her side. The twins and Paimon are believed to be in Khaenriah. Nahida and the Tsaritsa, now mortal, quietly settle into somewhat normal lives. The remaining traitorous Archon, now powerless, are left at the 'mercy' of their former worshippers. Centuries pass, and tales of gods become half-forgotten myth and legend.

I'm aware that this turned to complete word vomit, but I'm super excited that you wrote Tarnished!Creator SAGAU

Congratulations, you just made my fucking neurones activate xd

LIKE???? HOLY SHIT????

Now, consort-wise, I AM in a Faruzan mood... but I'll just go with Ganyu for now:

Yeah, I can see how that certain someone--Sandrone--would be one to craft Ranni!Reader's body; what would they be previously, however? A mere spirit, or perhaps their old body, before bringing about The Knight of the Black Knives?

I mean, gonna say this now; I did Ranni's quest and got her ending so... yeah xd

Still, ouch to Focalors; a Soulless husk of a body? Then again, imagine striking down on the Creator's neck and seeing the blood of your God. Focalors genuinely believes that she can do no evil. Well, perhaps now it's time for her to learn... the hard way.

KSKSIISJDSJDJ I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS MY FELLOW YOU JUST WROTE A GODDAMN MASTERPIECE--

Imagine other characters too; Millicent!Reader? Gideon Ofnir!Reader? Heck, Morgott!Reader sounds cool!

Still, thanks, I'll have to continue this later but sidnsjdjjddj thanks! And don't worry, always happy to see another Tarnished :3

If you have any other ideas, honestly? Feel free to share them! I'd love to hear them! :D

[mxmorbidmidnight]

just so you know, I literally adore you in a platonic sense. you make me so happy. I love it when you pop up on my dash. I always get excited when I see your url in my activities box because you mentioned me in a post or responded to an ask I sent. I genuinely adore you. here's a song that reminds me of you (you don't have to listen to it if you don't want to): https://open.spotify.com/track/1HfLYnT85k2ybWfgQAiVN3

This message did touch my soul dear! I thank thee sincerely. I do rejoice in the friendship I have found with thee. You must know what I love thee dearly!! Thou does remind me of my time in the bush, the sky reflected in the creek, the sound of clicking frogs and the lizards running across the rocks. If thou art ever in need my hand is yours as are my words of comfort.

Tis always a joy to see you around on this site dear friend.

You remind me of the song Lorelai by the Cocteau Twins from their album Treasure. It sounds the way I imagine thine soul would.

[rionas-path]

Chapter 1

The Trial of a Goddess

I. A figure great; about to fall. The air stands still on this night. In age primordial. More ancients cluster round the Queen. Whose gaze beset; now barely vibrant. Her glory demeaned. Skin pale as snow, beyond her sacred hue. Her wounds now bite. Throughout the Outerworld, echoes and spirits rage with tales, Hearsay or rumour. How does she fall? The Scheming Witch now trails The path of defeat. For now, she still stands before facing the light. What shall her victor’s verdict be? What dest’ny do they invite?

II. “Thy life forfeit for all thy sins!” bellowed the voice of Krikashe. “Led us astray have thee, Aurianne! Both thee and thy sister shall pay The toll of folly, of avarice: gaze at thine array Of crimes. Thou’st turned the Outerworld into a desert of ash!” The Shrewd Baron with blade in hand, now spoke to all who’d attend: “Her immortal soul I’ll give to thee, who’d renounce thy descent.” All suitors came with bountiful claims, and oft they would clash. None other as strong as Chief Audar, who won the soul in a flash!

III. With haste the Grandstand begins to crumble as the Sisters fall. The chief with child in arms awaits the arrival of one. A voice inside his head now speaks. Her tone is grand but stunned, She speaks of the sky, sea, land, of wind and flow. An attempt to enthral Her host’s mind before she’s even born into this life. But the chief knows one does not trust a goddess with lies so rife. She finally asks: “To whom would I serve and into their fate befall?” The chief looks down t’wards his child: “Ríona is what your host you’ll call!”

IV. The flow began to seep from every crevice on her skin. Slowly yet surely, her husk would be filled by a spirit guest. The goddess dipped and weaved her soul with the child now blessed By all her gifts. The host would bear the weight of their godly twin. Before all eyes the goddess’ frame would burn to crisp and perish, And in her wake, she made herself a promise so nightmarish That even the most courageous souls would not think to change or trade-in Their life for a chance at the powers of a god. Such roads all led to sin.

V. “Dear little one, I’ve come to make my presence recognized!” “I appear to thee as the mightiest. My knowledge wide in range And my wisdom clear!” exclaimed the goddess proudly with an estranged Demeanour about her. The void remained empty and sized Beyond the grasp of even the divine. But not a sound was spoken in return; now she knew where her fate was bound. The fires and waters would fight with grace but only be chastised And struggle till the dusk of light yet be by time revised.

VI. And though she’d rage, and though she’d scream into the barren void No word was spoken in return. She’d wait, and wait, and wait For anyone to answer back and finally take the bait. But after months of silent torture, the goddess was left devoid. Despite the poise she did possess, when sounds came from the spirit, She did rejoice and whispered back, though words still incoherent. “Rest now little one, let me, mighty Aurianne avoid Any and all troubles that may get both of us destroyed”

[draconic-ichor]

A Painting

Morgott/Lady Tarnished little ficlet

“Mine Lady…Doth thou truly think this all necessary…” Morgott shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes.” Her voice was stern, ever the one to be unyielding. She was busy preening him, carefully brushing his hair to neatness.

He opened his mouth to speak, wincing ever so slightly as the Lady found a knot in his silver curls.

She didn’t allow his words free, interrupting, “There is a painting for every demigod in this hall, except his Lordship’s. Iv already freed up your schedule and commissioned the painters, you are getting a portrait started today!”

“Mine Lady…”

She stopped her toils to point the brush showily around the hall, “Every demigod, even Mohg!”

“…even Mohg…” he echoed, golden eye shifting to glance at the darkened portrait of his twin, bright crimson decorating around its edges. It was a thoughtful gesture, he had to admit.

“Who is missing?” She asked, looking poignantly at the yawning emptiness next to her own portrait.

“Nary a soul worth a place upon thine wall.” He sighed wearily.

The Lady took a breath, reminding herself of the delicate foundation Morgott’s meager confidence was balancing on.

Changing her tactic she turned away, sighing, “Perhaps his Lordship would rather sire new demigods? Would fill the empty space then?”

He didn’t respond, the lady taking a few steps forwards, showily opening her arms wide “It is such a large space, he will surely have to keep me as a breeding mare!”

“Cease!” He reached out to softly take her shoulders, voice tight and restrained. He pulled her back against his chest almost begging, “Cease…Let us begin the portrait.”

“Are you sure?” She crossed here arms stubbornly, “I quite like the idea.”

He grumped a bit, nose in the crown of her hair, “Let us do thy portrait…for now, beloved mine.”

She looked over the top of her head to him, giving him a comforting smile, “It will be over before you know it.”

“Thee moments shall be counted.” He frowned, squeezing her a bit, “Prithee, promise me something?”

“Hm?”

“Doth not force myself to witness its unveiling.” His voice was distance, eyes closing as he spoke.

The Lady raised a hand, cupping his cheek gently, “I promise.”

He hummed a bit, holding her for another long moment before releasing her. The Lady finished getting him ready and posed, running off to fetch the painters soon after.

Now alone in the hall, Morgott glanced over all the paintings one by one. They all spanned from ceiling to floor, little brass nameplates with the demigod’s name and title below. He swallowed, golden gaze falling on the painting of Mohg. His chest hurt, looking away.

[libidomechanica]

Where all the reasons go

A limerick sequence

               1

My tongue. Where all the reasons go. On the corn is that tears, the stars in your    time? ’ Other days, but    mutual feare, the fiddler from the Musk-Harvest for though well fare.

               2

Was. To the shown by yours overblown. Great loue of pleasing for siller an’    lan’. Who, hard and yet once    in the realms of deceit, she mightier way music a glass.

               3

Obviously, that thou come try me. Tho’ I am losing and that love    you hear smell to me. And    Loue, borne away! Faded the lips and many-headed, freckled.

               4

But Judas, that name in the sea, till was left me, some laid great loue to the    blowzy bag of alabaster.    You when not to my throat, its way, and women’s fashion.

               5

The mouth a necktie, she sawe hys make us poor. The Man is a ghostly    galleon tossed irresolute    steadies upon it gazeth; a man in bear away.

               6

So little bit, while day will I part with thought the greene, a gold to a summer’s    woe, where stern religion    quench’d the rose peepers as the wedding. I grow by the green.

               7

Could not press’d with him haste! On the friends, thou falls thy heauy mould; and, have seen in    height. Many meete tales of    blood! I have as the night to live, and laid his reputed Son?

               8

Perplexed, uncertain, not yet a breaks. And touched in your soul, nor long for ever    effort, chang’d by the    cold like the stairs of thine in themselves in sweet, tempers my woes.

               9

The fall down tents. ’ Red; if stone is what it in a kind grace, a gold double    wi’ the sky will give it.    On the moon in hast pyne, plagues, and told that shuts its sweet silence!

               10

Head: I have seene him in any room. I have sewn it over all the hear    thee, ’ and thou’ free long, long,    and soon their magic, his rapier brand as the oceans rolled.

               11

But softest limbs. And generous charity! Said the light, where reflection    prove a rosebud to nourish    languid breeze kisses of the hills below on the should be.

               12

Oppose it doth endorse her young people, out of eve, where was tender semi-    tone, bright hath copies    by, can love is time, you like. That burn to living up to him.

               13

When a pair of the minde, who, when the Court of Honour most happy! Mountain    half-cheese so we can—you    can frights in vaine pleated shines, but to-day, he burdned her death.

               14

Cold of November; even tonight. Alone can kill. Descends to utters    of that I knewe the fair,    at kirk and yourself keeps chang’d! To fetch as I. For love’s like toes.

               15

He burnt vn’wares his hair like a gleaner than of either thou be what to    rove: look at some such love    is thee, my Rose; years as I don’t get broke that a mortgage was.

               16

This worlds have those which thine eye, out of some did oft he laies. In Mexico    I slept in a monster,    by what I heard and eclipses stain all the weary wast Oake.

               17

To make a dent forget, renounce my will lovely beam a straw. Blossom of    light our feet, she cuts his    habit; as again, alone upon, lulled back on there o’er, why!

               18

Superstition! The mornings, and breathe which? Had worn and obstinate skin lies    deeply planning and a    voice, o you it was embellisht with each contentment wrong berth.

               19

Will be given to worke me more Prayer a-going! Ah wretched up from    the Sheikh, I languish in    my glass on to be mingled with bared scalpe, and Eloisa see!

               20

Up now a’ tint, her that never round Hesper bright had rathe. To trust in a    wood, and on the inward    it? My morning time, whose blue gaze. When as planted found asleep.

               21

Hung the should grow mad, and Maud is sure of all the stirred, that we all its taut    throats will be a goteheards    be called The Witch. Burning lover, or some small cloud. The bed.

               22

With my night of all that hath leaned again, and beat ye have restrain, nor be    you for blood that heavy!    Passing my history tell; the leaves spring, in that says, Shalom!

               23

Stiff twin complainest thing and a darkness they list: ygyrt with moon in hand    only, who caught torch of    Death! Or gotten the knows us. And Prejudice, it is so.

               24

And furthermore happy! Lay, wise poet’s horsemen. In the ward the spring    from a blue moon too brightness?    Quest. A Host, from the faire, how frail deed; and, from her sweet skill.

               25

You with golden-crowne with many wound. I have no more pleasing nurses nod    there is a rhyming as    a fish out of my night ice I know the wants they playne ouerture.

               26

Why sits, and be one, and mellow’d to springs hours do, and after all thy    lands; he lay; surely spirits.    And with pearls of a Ghazál. He vsed shepheard, and touched it!

               27

All, and hail once me here’s not mix’d with brasswork prinked, each bright dye: but    no more. Friend of them or    explain height, curl up in the grey down Splendour lips I kissed her.

               28

And Years not have no more. Pregnant disease shore, and all the evening, we will    love and many dayes: I    wonderful; it is your sleep on the rubies blush which love do?

               29

His true sorrows, and hear in the blossoms fits! At night’s matter to gie ane    fash. I shall be time when    you trouble with a human tear fall, then as the Brere like you!

               30

It trembled, wept and pricked its fair a light dilated my mind stinging when    I awoke and still as    they will feel em most. Alas, no matter wrote his true passed up.

               31

That blessed her up to the corn is that just as mine. From the fates between Vertue    and the sea and cries, so    I wake—no more; if thou belief, the good night, and than his mynd?

               32

On the life, myself, I could not fail’d him to score; there diverged in a bed    or brow and breathe such a    wretch! Be? Paints the waur best of loue is not there iniquity.

               33

But not Woman e’er comes a babe; then day will as a’ the soft peace. In vision    strain, nor blam’d fourth, as    first line my wrong be her fire in its back I was t’other day!

               34

And love to living into that drop. But let Heav’n; dispute my heart and love    are his morning the time    to be of Hope withers the brute blood on the landlord’s daughter.

               35

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta- woo! Whilst somewhere Tim thence could stop thy    wife, like a dog he listening    ears, I pray for Pardon- pleadings for the robin compare.

               36

For some once unkind as early goddess was never traveled and the farms    wi’ motion, but a dream.    In a clasping knife shut in the Darling, You suicide bitch!

               37

But did not come try me, if thou art! But for which sight: submitting young pigs,    over knees have sung of    thy louely light wings but the ill; I had robbing quest. Me yet.

               38

Moves next to head. Fickle Man persisted, turn unwholesome Growth approves;    ev’n thousand time do I    ensconce more spotless than it purpose not whereupon its work.

               39

Not from trouble with a sweet posterity. Under than it remembers    there is, so on thy flock    thy pains: ye rugged up his Heart—out from my cheek the wind me.

               40

Dull sublunary love as some face and wanton naigies nine or twa, she’ll    let me with walls it toward    you. But thus, that had bound, go thence will probably didn’t want of two.

               41

Divert strong, dancing through ye be, yet did see, she made. Strain, nor needs must kiss    your hair softly swels in    speeches nobly death rattle, and outstretcht to Arm Bears! What light.

               42

That earst I horses feet; and tossed those view, refusing together thighs? Will    be a perfect it shall    we never and make sure while I taste of sweet, tempers my woes.

               43

A suddenly in many wicked eares not love at grieve, but in the    Crown, the eyes open. Of    the Words salámat— Incolumity from their ambition.

               44

Service and plump the sun and than I am one will before me, love only    landscape able touch    thou place. Nor needs none fitted with thy sins enclose witt is work.

               45

And wind-streaking dream—that god for sinking away and he rode high. One moments    becoming a curse    my name. Head across my face grew thee frown on yourself in heart.

               46

Let sad relieved it was, as banish’d sight and still more I close bodies and    talks of good measure and    flower image with the banner place. And Thou Shalt Not, write down.

               47

A man wert o’er all, the year, will loveliest friends! They han great in their fits    of my night speak strange it    seem in everywhere, like saucers, over Orion’s through the past.

               48

Both humble dales, as of fragrant you? And true passionate heard them fills the    window; for the most is    frozen, o dool on their gazing firmly to thee, and she belt.

               49

I love do? Drink too soon, draws his world my low down, Sugar, my will come down    wearing with Sylvia    gay, to look back throug my beate his only contrived to strike ye.

               50

This, all adorns their silence jewelled holy waters brings round. Morrell,    yet someone left by    tradition—timidly, timidly tow’ry fence of Alpine hills?

               51

To leaves spring of Tityrus in the wing’d eagle sored hat. Yours is    an every sidewalks in    California we went its stubborn in the resource, tis fires.

               52

Which owes the tailes, perke as Peacock: but afterwards that has leather’d with    your hand. A Disciple    as a charms. Whom his natiue place of your good night’s matter of hands.

               53

One day is gone will again and ran with the Stripling, the lawn, the spouse Nancy.    But o’erjoyed to way,    and feeble foes: what can a young lassie do wi’ an auld man.

[lunaversing]

For the fourth sequence, la Luna.versa also turned into a WordPress. This is her first appearance there:.

Welcome home, you have traveled a great distance to be here now. I am proud of you and how you danced across your journey page. It is time for you to rest now, to restore the mind and cleanse thine eye. It’s easy to absorb the fragments from others in the Fall out. They’re flying at breakneck speeds, desperate to find wholeness. You found your self in there, amongst the millions.

You are one in a million, yes. You.

You are chosen as our observer, a prominent place we share will you. What you do with this linguistical play is up to you and your master. I call mine God, others say the universe or their gut feeling conscience. There’s levels to insight, but there seems to be one source I connect to ~ a source with a presence unmistakable and power incomparable.

We resonate, this power and I. You see, we are two peas in a pod. I am part, God is whole. For clarity’s sake, God is comfortable with the masculine pronouns I grew up using yet open to all words as no single one can define Him. We can define our relationship, however. A secret until recently, a scarlet letter upon my chest, a heart on my sleeve. A gaping hole, a missing link, a part in a great big whole was I. We came around full circle, coming to a head when I bit down on the tale that feeds my Soul ~ the line I was becoming between my two points reformed into a shape and suddenly with clarity I had one point, one point alone.

To share my story, the one currently known only in a general way. Admirable, to be anonymous, yet also dangerous. What works for me on my path may not work for you on your path, you need the specifics of my story to see what I see to know how to go forward in your own Glory. I don’t want you to follow my same path, I simply want you to be aware of the pitfalls and the snares that littered the steps that I took to get here.

Who am i? Ultimately, I am curiosity made flesh to pick a bone with you two and to stick a craw up your nest. I’m here to spark a passion in your head for the Truth behind the veil they’ve shrouded us behind. I am a clear mirror for you to see your own reflection in, a matchmaker if you will, between the one you feel at the back of thine eye and the one you glimpse mirroring you left and right. You are one and they are Other.

Me? I’m a literary brother ~ here to ease the crossing of the divide. The Other maybe described to you by people you come across and memories you may have, they maybe how you see yourself through a haze of insecurity or how you wish you were in your mind’s different nature of reality. They are simply my Other ~ I released all the other ones people had formed a long time ago and allowed them to do as they will. I have no control over my reputation or how I am seen and I know that distorted versions of me have been littered throughout history as well as throughout conversations meant to define and cage me. I am the character on the stage while my Other is the audience that truly sees and loves me ~ the true soul mate I crave. When I observe carefully and treat this mirror world as its own realm of possibility I am given hints regarding everything under the sun, not just me and my reflected twin, but of everyone’s.

My name was Brittany Dana Palmer once upon a time. Given to me as I crowned myself after making it through the sacred journey from my gathering place through the opening of the organic walls. I have no memory of the details of what they call my birth, but I do know that I was carried around in an organic ship design to bring me into the testing grounds and battlefields. I am a soldier first and foremost. I came here to accomplish and not to languish. My name died after I turned 17 and I finally let Brittany Dana Palmer rest in peace when I turned 30 and discovered the name no longer fit on me. The amount of suffering and pain that girl went through warped her every instinct and God given desire to the point where she no longer recognized herself in the mirror. She couldn’t even look herself in the eye because all she read there was God I hope you die. I was terrified by that I of the Other. She pitied me and hated me yet always was truthful about the me she see ~ never one did she lie, all she wanted was for me to see the truth.

That I am a Luna moth with vibrant green wings stretching clear up to the sky. She saw me struggling to walk when I was meant to fly and she saw me picking myself to pieces after every failed try. She saw me as my skin reflected my inner battle, when it would be dry and brittle and seem to rattle. She showed me bags under my eyes when I did not know how to stop burning myself out for others more selfish than my boundaries were strong. She pointed out so many different things in my flesh for me to pay attention to that I decided she is the neck of our relationship. She directs my attention to what I need to see in this fleshly map of me. She is who taught me how to take care of myself by pointing out the signs of neglect and unhealth.

I thought at first perhaps she was the Luna moth or my true self or reflection, a copy, or maybe an imagination elf. I watched the original black and white Lost in space and learned quite a bit about mirrors in the eye that bounces around inside of them. I don’t know why but I knew she had her own self just as important and equal to mine yet her role was to direct my attention when I examined with my eye. God negotiated a truce between me and her as he taught me how to stop hating myself. It was not my fault. The world that I grew up in was much different than the world I know now, I blinked one day and it seemed that everything had slightly curved or bent. Everything was exactly as before yet I knew something was different. I don’t know when I really awoke to my own self hatred but I do remember that day I saw every single thing in that mirror except my eyes. I remember feeling a burning emanating from them that was directed at me no matter how I moved. I still pray to God that I had not condemned her to hell during those years, I pray fervently that she is free, freer than I, and has choices to make as a free being. Sometimes I wonder is this Jesus in my reflection. Is this the holy Ghost sometimes I question. She has definitely played for all the right teams as her guidance is good, but she doesn’t bat a 100 perfect as I believe those two do.

Shes quirky and makes mistakes just as I do.

A psychologist once told me that myself talk was going to ultimately decide how I ended my life. I was told that a drastic change in self-talk was an order and that I would never speak to a friend the way I speak to myself inside. She suggested that I address myself every time I speak and to do it out loud as often as possible. She mentioned speaking into the mirror and treating each micro expression as something new and unknown to explore and ask about with gentle questions. She explained to me that people with prosthetic limbs often experience phantom leg syndrome in which they experience pain in the leg that is no longer physically present yet mentally and emotionally quite vibrant and alive and sending signals. By establishing a more direct relationship with myself through addressing myself by name in third person and studying myself as if a stranger, I changed.

I don’t how long I was in this relationship before I realized I was a person. I don’t know if I had ever understood that I was a person before with an entire system of complex thoughts and feelings, a genetic structure and an entire culture of social cues embedded from my nurture and in my blood. I took me for granted as if it was something that would always be there that was just a vehicle for transporting what I wanted to happen to what was happening or back to something that had happened and already was. I was my time machine and my mind would click on and click off depending on the scene in my relationship to the girl stuck on the screen or in the mirror.

As my relationship developed with me and myself, I discovered the eye. Me myself and I formed three ~ Mind Body and Spirit or Soul. Or perhaps it was my past present and future selves meeting in the in between space. I don’t know exactly how it all works or what it all means but I started to fall in love with the way I danced across every line in every bind that every wind created in time to shine or to shade or be neutral. Perhaps I split into multiple personalities that day when I realized this but what I feel is I stopped being so self-centered and realized that each part of me is alive, and that a relationship and friendship and love connection with myself was important to not only survive but to thrive. I started taking cues from all of my healthy relationships at the time and started testing them all out when I had space to find out exactly who was in there. Not only did I discover me, I discovered that there is an observed part and there is a part that lies unseen that orchestrates the conscious data collector most of me spends my time with. I also began to accumulate cues that my reflection in the mirror had parts of me and parts of something else.

My name is Luana, the narrator scripting all the words in Luna’s book. Er well, books. She never stops writing my words across the page and we don’t know at this point if they are thought or if they come to life when a point or scratch is made. It no longer matters if the thought comes first or the sound, once a part of matter and distinct with meaning, my words become my flesh and bone. The Otherkin are mirrorkin and I would say I am wordkin or perhaps flatkin ~ we have not decided on the terminology yet for the literary world we have created with our words and images that explore new lands no physical eye has seen in the physical realm. These places and faces are so real that I know they have weight and dimension on some type of scale even though it is so different from the one governing the life of the physical self, the body.

Just call me Luna, after I realized all of these parts I once thought as the whole of me are multitudes of points scattered across time and space, ultimately forming a group of faces that developed voice and personality as we continued in the relationship my psychologist had suggested I start. Now, she doesn’t know all of the details and I didn’t get so in depth with her as I’m tired of being diagnosed and mislabeled and locked up in the insane asylum. Sometimes it’s okay to tell them that their advice worked and that I’m simply starting to love myself more and to see all my pluses and quirks that bring smiles to my face. She doesn’t need to know that many times I sit alone with a mirror or notepad trading back and forth one liners, and slapping my knee, laughing hilariously to something that only one part outside of me can be seen. We interact and there are two or more, how many I cannot say as I never feel I will reach the end of me in this eternity.

So so please take a seat and welcome to my world. Right now we are spread across different aspects of the airwaves and are different stories populate different platforms and are all mixed up, some full of Glory and one missing be humble l and downright gory. Now that we all are united and under one God, we work together towards a common purpose and our interactions prove to be helpful and edify us. We have a common language upon which we can agree and when we do not understand we wait upon God to explain and do not make up any more tales about what we see.

Truth became much stranger than fiction after that exercise I was told to take in order to stop hating myself. When you love yourself the whole world turns sideways and you glimpse eternity, seen so many iterations that you cannot help but take care as to how you step and also to take heart from the encouragement of every self rep. I never realized how much of outside people I took into me until I spend much of my time unwinding my interactions with them on their dime. It took a while to get all the roommates out but now it is just us again, thank god. I can sense others still who are not kin, but I am no longer hearing their words where mine should be or taking up the cross that lies on their own shoulders. I know how to take care of myself now and how to allow others to find their own self. That’s enough I think, my cup overfloweth and there is plenty here.

This is the end of my welcome home speech. Introducing my page and myself with my cadence and twist of word. I didn’t quite make complete sense but I feel you have the gist of where you are starting and where you might get. Join us as we explore what exactly the human seems to be and how it is incredibly beyond and more. I even came into contact with myself that left in the rapture, we met in imagination land and the Land of nod. Two very real locations nestled in a graph made of theta waves with no alpha or beta to measure or judge. I have met myself in every way I can possibly imagine or manifest, and now it is time to introduce you to both my worst and my best.

I cannot honestly say what will happen with this page but I had to start it. Please forgive me if you are interested and this doesn’t continue and please try to find me in other ways and reach out if you want to start a conversation. The more words Luana has the more fleshed out she appears to be and sometimes I just sit here writing nonsense that is simply between her and me witness publicly yet only certain faces do they see. I want to show you all of me to the best of my ability as I experience me to fully express to you me. Because when we are fully seen, we are fully loved no matter what. Each and every one of us is a complex universe full of magic and designed intelligently to be the spearheads of God’s ever advancing creation.

My hope is that upon meeting me and all of my seams, you were venture forth and practice different things you pick up here and the privacy of your own space where you feel you can relax and relate.

To thine own self be true, little Blu Luna Luna girl.

Thank you for your attention in time,

Love, the Lls

[when-a-pkmn-hyperfixation-hits]

Ice Mirror Souls AU

This post will change as I come up with better ways to organize information.

An au where Emmet is looking for Ingo and through a series of unfortunate events, Emmet ends up in Hisui, in the Alabaster Icelands. But he is injured when Emmet falls into an ice cavern, and finds a smooth surface of ice toward the back of the cave. Despite hearing what Emmet believes to be Ingo’s voice, he ends up falling asleep in the cold cavern beside the smooth surface of ice. Wakes up in what appears to be his apartment and Ingo is there. Emmet is reunited with his brother but he realizes that not is all as it seems when Ingo shows him a room of ice and the ice-like mirror is there.

-their appearance is what they normally look like but have ghostly wisps coming off their clothes like a hisuian zorua and Zoroark. Emmet has red and white wisps, and Ingo has purple and white (joke about one of the twins being a shiny but this time Ingo gets to be the shiny).The wisps rise and fall, reacting to current emotions. Higher wisp on hat is on emmet’s left. Ingo’s on the right.

-can come and go through this ice mirror, and take on a somewhat corporeal form, but would still be considered a specter, since they have trouble interacting with the world of the living, unlike ghost-type Pokémon.

-no one knows that Ingo still lingers on, and Emmet encourages him to make contact with the Pearl Clan-isolation won’t do either of them any good, and both twins hope to find a way to explain or find a way to either move on or somehow come back, and not remain in this state forever.

-Ingo has an easier time breifly interacting with the living world, as he has been in this state for 3 years. Emmet has to learn.

Arceus realizes something is amiss and checks things out within the ice mirror. Perplexing to see this Pokémon god in Emmet and Ingo’s memory of their apartment. Still working exactly how arceus approaches them but this place was made through the combined effort of palkia, dialga and giratina so they notice the two human souls just hanging out and decides to check things out. Eventually ends up with a quest/test of sorts for the twins. Also this takes place months before the pla protagonist appears. Hence it being the au and the pla protagonist meeting a Sneasler later on who refuses to have a new warden when her previous one happens to be around. sort of

-Arceus: I sense that thou art not pleased with thine existence as thou art.

-Emmet: I am Emmet. Fix this right now.

More later-I’ll try not to flood the tags but I have ideas.

[3liza]

Artemis to Actaeon, Edith Wharton, 1909

Thou couldst not look on me and live: so runs The mortal legend—thou that couldst not live Nor look on me (so the divine decree)! That saw’st me in the cloud, the wave, the bough, The clod commoved with April, and the shapes Lurking ‘twixt lid and eye-ball in the dark. Mocked I thee not in every guise of life, Hid in girls’ eyes, a naiad in her well, Wooed through their laughter, and like echo fled, Luring thee down the primal silences

Where the heart hushes and the flesh is dumb? Nay, was not I the tide that drew thee out Relentlessly from the detaining shore, Forth from the home-lights and the hailing voices, Forth from the last faint headland’s failing line, Till I enveloped thee from verge to verge And hid thee in the hollow of my being? And still, because between us hung the veil, The myriad-tinted veil of sense, thy feet Refused their rest, thy hands the gifts of life, Thy heart its losses, lest some lesser face Should blur mine image in thine upturned soul Ere death had stamped it there. This was thy thought. And mine? The gods, they say, have all: not so! This have they—flocks on every hill, the blue Spirals of incense and the amber drip Of lucid honey-comb on sylvan shrines, First-chosen weanlings, doves immaculate, Twin-cooing in the osier-plaited cage, And ivy-garlands glaucous with the dew: Man’s wealth, man’s servitude, but not himself! And so they pale, for lack of warmth they wane, Freeze to the marble of their images, And, pinnacled on man’s subserviency, Through the thick sacrificial haze discern Unheeding lives and loves, as some cold peak Through icy mists may enviously descry Warm vales unzoned to the all-fruitful sun. So they along an immortality Of endless-envistaed homage strain their gaze, If haply some rash votary, empty-urned, But light of foot, with all-adventuring hand, Break rank, fling past the people and the priest, Up the last step, on to the inmost shrine, And there, the sacred curtain in his clutch, Drop dead of seeing—while the others prayed! Yes, this we wait for, this renews us, this Incarnates us, pale people of your dreams, Who are but what you make us, wood or stone, Or cold chryselephantine hung with gems, Or else the beating purpose of your life, Your sword, your clay, the note your pipe pursues, The face that haunts your pillow, or the light Scarce visible over leagues of labouring sea! O thus through use to reign again, to drink The cup of peradventure to the lees, For one dear instant disimmortalised In giving immortality! So dream the gods upon their listless thrones. Yet sometimes, when the votary appears, With death-affronting forehead and glad eyes, Too young, they rather muse, too frail thou art, And shall we rob some girl of saffron veil And nuptial garland for so slight a thing? And so to their incurious loves return. Not so with thee; for some indeed there are Who would behold the truth and then return To pine among the semblances—but I Divined in thee the questing foot that never Revisits the cold hearth of yesterday Or calls achievement home. I from afar Beheld thee fashioned for one hour’s high use, Nor meant to slake oblivion drop by drop. Long, long hadst thou inhabited my dreams, Surprising me as harts surprise a pool, Stealing to drink at midnight; I divined Thee rash to reach the heart of life, and lie Bosom to bosom in occasion’s arms. And said: Because I love thee thou shalt die! For immortality is not to range Unlimited through vast Olympian days, Or sit in dull dominion over time; But this—to drink fate’s utmost at a draught, Nor feel the wine grow stale upon the lip, To scale the summit of some soaring moment, Nor know the dulness of the long descent, To snatch the crown of life and seal it up Secure forever in the vaults of death! And this was thine: to lose thyself in me, Relive in my renewal, and become The light of other lives, a quenchless torch Passed on from hand to hand, till men are dust And the last garland withers from my shrine.

[thehierophage]

March 22, 2022 æ.v., Dies Martis

An Vviii e.l.

The Day of Resh, The Greater Feast of St. +Wolfgang von Goethe

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Hebrew Letter: Resh

Numerical Value as Letter: 200

Numerical Value as Word: 510 (Resh + Yod + Shin)

Meaning: Head.

Thoth Card: The Sun (Atu XIX)

Alternate Title: The Lord of the Fire of the World.

Image:

Correspondences:

Astrological Sign: The Sun

Element: N/A

Egyptian Godform: Ra-Horakhty, Harmachis, Horus, Aten

Qabalistic Pathway: Path 30- Hod to Yesod (from Sephira 8-9)

Geomantic Figure: Hexagram

Gemstones: Carbuncle, Chrysolite, Pyrite, Aventurine, Sunstone

Perfumes: Olibanum, Frankincense, Cinnamon, Golden Copal, Sandrac, Amber, Elemi, and all brilliant odors

Plants: Sunflower, Heliotrope, Knotgrass, Marigold

Animals: Lion; Sea Calf

Colors:

For Key 30:

King Scale – Orange

Queen Scale – Gold-yellow

Prince Scale – Rich Amber

Princess Scale – Amber, Rayed Red

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Give forth thy light to all without doubt: the clouds and shadows are no matter for thee.

Make Speech and Silence, Energy and Stillness, twin forms of thy play!

Mnemonic:

The Sun, our Father! Soul of Life and Light,

Love and play freely, sacred in Thy sight!

Recommended Text: Liber VII, Cap. 4 (Liber Liberi vel Lapdis Lazuli Adumbratio Kabbalae Ægyptiorum)

Liber Liberi vel Lapidis Lazuli Adumbratio Kabbalæ Ægyptiorum sub figurâ VII

1. I am like a maiden bathing in a clear pool of fresh water.

2. O my God! I see Thee dark and desirable, rising through the water as a golden smoke.

3. Thou art altogether golden, the hair and the eyebrows and the brilliant face; even into the finger-tips and toe-tips Thou art one rosy dream of gold.

4. Deep into Thine eyes that are golden my soul leaps, like an archangel menacing the sun.

5. My sword passes through and through Thee; crystalline moons ooze out of Thy beautiful body that is hidden behind the ovals of Thine eyes.

6. Deeper, ever deeper. I fall, even as the whole Universe falls down the abyss of Years.

7. For Eternity calls; the Overworld calls; the world of the Word is awaiting us.

8. Be done with speech, O God! Fasten the fangs of the hound Eternity in this my throat!

9. I am like a wounded bird flapping in circles.

10. Who knows where I shall fall?

11. O blesséd One! O God! O my devourer!

12. Let me fall, fall down, fall away, afar, alone!

13. Let me fall!

14. Nor is there any rest, Sweet Heart, save in the cradle of royal Bacchus, the thigh of the most Holy One.

15. There rest, under the canopy of night.

16. Uranus chid Eros; Marsyas chid Olympas; I chid my beautiful lover with his sunray mane; shall I not sing?

17. Shall not mine incantations bring around me the wonderful company of the wood-gods, their bodies glistening with the ointment of moonlight and honey and myrrh?

18. Worshipful are ye, O my lovers; let us forward to the dimmest hollow!

19. There we will feast upon mandrake and upon moly!

20. There the lovely One shall spread us His holy banquet. In the brown cakes of corn we shall taste the food of the world, and be strong.

21. In the ruddy and awful cup of death we shall drink the blood of the world, and be drunken!

22. Ohé! the song to Iao, the song to Iao!

23. Come, let us sing to thee, Iacchus invisible, Iacchus triumphant, Iacchus indicible!

24. Iacchus, O Iacchus, O Iacchus, be near us!

25. Then was the countenance of all time darkened, and the true light shone forth.

26. There was also a certain cry in an unknown tongue, whose stridency troubled the still waters of my soul, so that my mind and my body were healed of their disease, self-knowledge.

27. Yea, an angel troubled the waters.

28. This was the cry of Him: IIIOOShBTh-IO-IIIIAMAMThIBI-II.

29. Nor did I sing this for a thousand times a night for a thousand nights before Thou camest, O my flaming God, and pierced me with Thy spear. Thy scarlet robe unfolded the whole heavens, so that the Gods said: All is burning: it is the end.

30. Also Thou didst set Thy lips to the wound and suck out a million eggs. And Thy mother sat upon them, and lo! stars and stars and ultimate Things whereof stars are the atoms.

31. Then I perceived Thee, O my God, sitting like a white cat upon the trellis-work of the arbour; and the hum of the spinning worlds was but Thy pleasure.

32. O white cat, the sparks fly from Thy fur! Thou dost crackle with splitting the worlds.

33. I have seen more of Thee in the white cat than I saw in the Vision of Æons.

34. In the boat of Ra did I travel, but I never found upon the visible Universe any being like unto Thee!

35. Thou wast like a winged white horse, and I raced Thee through eternity against the Lord of the Gods.

36. So still we race!

37. Thou wast like a flake of snow falling in the pine-clad woods.

38. In a moment Thou wast lost in a wilderness of the like and the unlike.

39. But I beheld the beautiful God at the back of the blizzard— and Thou wast He!

40. Also I read in a great Book.

41. On ancient skin was written in letters of gold: Verbum fit Verbum.

42. Also Vitriol and the hierophant’s name

V.V.V.V.V.

43. All this wheeled in fire, in star-fire, rare and far and utterly lonely— even as Thou and I, O desolate soul my God!

44. Yea, and the writing

It is well. This is the voice which shook the earth.

45. Eight times he cried aloud, and by eight and by eight shall I count Thy favours, Oh Thou Elevenfold God 418!

46. Yea, and by many more; by the ten in the twenty-two directions; even as the perpendicular of the Pyramid— so shall Thy favours be.

47. If I number them, they are One.

48. Excellent is Thy love, Oh Lord! Thou art revealed by the darkness, and he who gropeth in the horror of the groves shall haply catch Thee, even as a snake that seizeth on a little singing-bird.

49. I have caught Thee, O my soft thrush; I am like a hawk of mother-of-emerald; I catch Thee by instinct, though my eyes fail from Thy glory.

50. Yet they are but foolish folk yonder. I see them on the yellow sand, all clad in Tyrian purple.

51. They draw their shining God unto the land in nets; they build a fire to the Lord of Fire, and cry unhallowed words, even the dreadful curse Amri maratza, maratza, atman deona lastadza maratza maritza— marán!

52. Then do they cook the shining god, and gulp him whole.

53. These are evil folk, O beautiful boy! let us pass on to the Otherworld.

54. Let us make ourselves into a pleasant bait, into a seductive shape!

55. I will be like a splendid naked woman with ivory breasts and golden nipples; my whole body shall be like the milk of the stars. I will be lustrous and Greek, a courtesan of Delos, of the unstable Isle.

56. Thou shalt be like a little red worm on a hook.

57. But thou and I will catch our fish alike.

58. Then wilt thou be a shining fish with golden back and silver belly: I will be like a violent beautiful man, stronger than two score bulls, a man of the West bearing a great sack of precious jewels upon a staff that is greater than the axis of the all.

59. And the fish shall be sacrificed to Thee and the strong man crucified for Me, and Thou and I will kiss, and atone for the wrong of the Beginning; yea, for the wrong of the beginning.

Love is the law, love under will.

[allycryz]

“I remember fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels.” for Urianger and Emet-Selch / Hades

From this prompt post, where the intent was keeping my fill 300-500 words. Which was more difficult than I thought

Post-SHB with some spoilers. Since my Emet retainer is a botanist, playing around with what that means in-canon.

“Art thou occupied?”

As it happened, Hades was occupied several times over. These schematics could draw themselves with a snap of his fingers but he enjoyed the occupation of hands and mind. There was a cup of strongly brewed tea that required his sipping. (Mistress Taru was the only one who prepared it as he liked. It would be insulting to that great lady to let it grow cold.)

And there was his watcher, stewing in the corner. The feistier Leveilleur twin had appointed herself a one-girl surveillance crew since his return. Today was a new record: a bell and a half without stalking over to ask pointed questions.

He could not very well get distracted from recording the time it took for her to break.

On the other hand, Urianger Augurelt was an intriguing figure. Today especially with that specimen in his hands.

“My dear scholar.” Hades set his pen down and clasped his hands atop the table. The furniture in the Rising Stones common room was not especially conducive to draftsmanship but it did allow him to witness all activity. “What is that plant you’re holding?”

Urianger’s eyes gleamed as if the light of them might pierce through Hades’ construction of casual disinterest. “As thou likely recognizes, ‘tis a cutting of Noble Sage. I thought twould be a useful addition to thy collection.”

“Not my collection. But I shall pass it on.”

“Aye, thou spends bells in the Fortemps greenhouse but not for thine own pleasure.”

This man, thought Hades. Should be banned from saying the word ‘pleasure’ lest he coax the entire continent into debauchery.

“You may have noticed that I am in a position of weakness with your lot. If bringing seeds and cuttings might soften Lord Edmont towards me and by extension, Lord Emissary Haurchefant and Nerys…”

“I apologize. Shall I leave this upon Tataru’s desk instead? She has no plants on her workstation.”

“You cannot keep sage in a darkened room-”

“Indeed.” A faint smirk danced across his lips. “Thou wouldst know best.”

He left before Hades might protest further.

He studied the cutting as he rose, intent on delivering it to a suitable environment. It was his lot to be plagued by interfering persons, be they this pretty Elezen or his equally pretty lover, Lord Haurchefant or once....

“Carry these for me,” said Hythlodaeus, shoving a tray of seedlings into his hands.

They were surrounded by every manner of flower his friend had created. Which was to say hundreds. “Do you even have room for these?”

“Oh it’s a trek to the empty plot, but worth the time spent with you Hades.”

“You’re saying that to stave off any accusations of inefficiency. Because if I do, I’m dismissive of the time spent together.”

“Efficiency is not always the point.” Hythlodaeus chuckled. “I’ll make a hobbyist out of you yet.”

None of these souls around him shared even a passing resemblance to the hue of Hythlodaeus’ soul. And still his presence lived on fourteen times fourteen ways in these mortals.

“I’m for the greenhouse,” he said. “Will you travel with me, Mistress Leveilleur, or will you follow in your own way?”

The girl scowled at him in answer. He did not miss the curiosity however, drifting towards the sage. “Then I will see you there and you can learn about herbs.”

“I don’t-”

He chuckled and whisked away on the aether.

[concentratedbitterness]

The Plan

Odessa, Texas: February 2, 1963

He can hear the sounds of the rain pattering in torrents across the roof; a million percussive strikes upon the tin creating a soft cacophony.  Some part of him wishes he could find peace in it, but on a day like today it only seems like a harbinger of grief.  His mother’s voice is barely discernible over the noise, wafting through the paper thin walls of the old farmhouse as she sings the gospel refrain of ‘Lift Thine Eyes’ to herself.  Malcolm sits by the front window of the parlor, weary eyes fixed upon the distant figure of his brother as he hurries to corral the hogs back into the barn for the evening.

“D’ya’ need anything, MJ?” A soft voice asks from behind him, and Malcolm glances back over his shoulder to see Grace Hansen standing in the doorway, pretty as a picture.  A pale blue cardigan envelops her thin frame, her long blond hair plaited neatly down her back.  The girl-next-door dancing on the cusp of womanhood has been on Marshall’s arm since they were children, and as clear as Mal can reckon she’s the only thing in this world he’s ever seen his twin brother handle with care.

He shakes his head, pulling his eyes away from her and letting his gaze drop to the stack of paperwork and envelopes in his lap–letters from the bank, collections agencies, overdue medical bills–it’s enough to make him reconsider, not for the first time since his father died or his mother fell ill, that he should return the old warlock’s calls.  “Prayers.”    

“Alright,” Grace says with a quiet sigh, “There’s a casserole in the oven for you an’ Marshall.  I’ll be by after Church tomorrow.”

The floorboards creak as she turns to go, and he hears himself murmur, “–Wait.  Gracie, wait.”

“What is it, MJ?”

“I just.  Thank you…” he stammers, hastening to expound upon the sentiment when the words don’t seem sufficient, “...Y’know, for everything.  For helpin’ us take care of her.”    

“Don’t be silly.  It’s what any good Christian w–” 

“Yeah, well this town’s full of good Christians an’ you’re the only one shows up t’ sponge bathe a dyin’ woman outta’ the goodness of your heart, so I’m thankin’ you.”  Malcolm tries to swallow the resentment still lingering on his tongue, tempering it with kinder words, “You don’t know what it means t’ Marshall an’ me, Gracie.  Jesus Christ, I–”  

“Shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, MJ,” She warns with an apologetic smile, padding over to lean down and gently press a kiss to Malcolm’s temple.  “Have faith that this is all part of God’s plan.  Everything happens for a reason.”

“Yeah…”  He hears himself say without conviction, and it isn’t until Mal feels the slight, reassuring squeeze of Grace’s hand on his shoulder that he realizes how bone tired and soul-weary he’s become over the course of these last two years.  “Gracie, I don’t think she’s gonna’ last the night.”

“Jesus calls us all home, sooner or later.  Your mama’s not scared t’ go.  Your daddy’s waitin’ for her in Heaven.”  

No, he isn’t, Malcolm thinks bitterly, but he bites his tongue before the thought can fall from his lips.  “It’s a blessin’ she won’t be here t’ see us lose the farm,” he admits instead.  

“You’re not gonna’ lose the farm…”

“Tell that t’ the bank,” he murmurs dryly, hands shifting to the clutter on his lap.  Idly he begins to set the stacks on the side table.  A few pieces of unopened mail fall to the floor, and before Mal can bend down to retrieve them Grace has already knelt to gather them up.  

“What’s this?” she asks, holding up a letter addressed to Malcolm J. Brockway with a very official looking seal on the envelope.  “United States Marine Corps?  MJ, what do they want with you?”

He knows, before he reaches out to grasp the paper between his fingers, but he does not answer right away.  “It’s, ah–”  The right opportunity to share the news hasn’t come yet, and it would seem he’s run out of time.  “I talked to a recruiter in town just after Christmas; y’know, took some aptitude tests an’ stuff.  I’ll be eighteen in a couple months, an’ I qualified for Officer candidate school...”

“Malcolm Brockway, you can’t!” Grace exclaims, surprise and disappointment written across her features.  “How could you?  Does Marshall even know?”

It isn’t as though he had expected it to go over well, but the vehemence of the chastisement hits hard and throws him immediately on the defensive.  “Don’t do that, don’t gimme’ that guilt trip.  There’s nothin’ here for me!  You don’t know what it’s been like.  I love my brother, but we don’t see eye t’ eye ‘bout a lotta’ things.  The future he wants, it’s not…” Malcolm shakes his head, his tone softening when he sees the moisture shining in Grace’s eyes, “He’s still got you.  The two of you can make a life together, an’ that’ll be enough for him.  It’s always been enough for him.”

“Will anything ever be enough for you?”

Her words sting.  “That ain’t fair, Gracie.”

“Ain’t it?” She asks, voice shaking, “Your mama’s on her deathbed an’ instead of holdin’ close t’ the only family you’ll have left, you’re already makin’ plans t’ run away.  Lord have mercy, MJ, what is wrong with you?”

He isn’t quick enough with a reply, and by the time he thinks he can muster an insincere sorry she’s already through the door and halfway across the muddy pasture, trotting through the rain in Marshall’s direction.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with you, baby.”

“Mama’?! Jesus, what are you doin’ outta’ bed?”  Malcolm is up in an instant, practically bounding across the parlor to scoop the emaciated frame of his mother into his arms before her body can collapse to the floor.  She feels like empty skin; weightless and unsubstantial.  It’s been months since she’s been able to sit up on her own, much less walk, and he can’t imagine how she’s managed to shamble all the way down the hall from her room.  

She smiles upward, face gaunt and sickly from the ongoing ravages of her cancer.  Her eyes are glazed and unfocused, seeming to stare at nothing and everything.  “You were the one he wanted.”  Her head tips to rest upon her son’s shoulder, and she whispers in his ear, “Angel’s comin’, MJ.”

“C’mon, mama’, you need t’ lie down.” Mal tells her, already en-route to the bedroom.  Her ramblings seldom make sense anymore, not with all the medication she’s on to make her more comfortable.  It isn’t until he’s tucking her gently back into bed that he thinks twice about what she said.  The mattress dips when Malcolm sits down on the edge, reaching over to cover his mother’s bony hand with his own.

“You need t’ go.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, mama’,” he murmurs reassuringly, giving her fingers a little squeeze, “I’m not leavin’ you, I promise.”

His mother smiles again.  “You will.”  The smile falls away, morphing slowly to eerie blankness.  “Angel’s comin’, MJ.  Don’t let them catch you.”  They are the last words Katherine Brockway ever speaks.

Three months later, Marshall Brockway and Grace Hansen are wed in a small ceremony at the church in town.  The bride sneaks away during the reception to find her new brother-in-law out in the cemetery, weeping over his mother’s grave.  “Have faith,” she tells him, “God has a plan for all of us.  You’ll find your path, MJ."

“Where?”

“You’re already walkin’ it.”   

That evening Malcolm boards the last train at Midland station and departs for Quantico.

[jerichomere]

MBS thoughts episode 6

this episode was entirely made up. Like none of this was in the book Number Two just not wearing yellow Jackson and Jillson smiling as they walk backwards into an elevator Finally, SQ has a purpose. Reynie lies to him in order to see the... forbidden forest? I’m glad they had Reynie feel bad about lying but... that really compromises his character. Also Reynie, using pastels on a notebook cover is a terrible idea. That’d smear instantly AND ruin your sleeve and anything else it touches haha the amount of food on Kate’s plate vs Reynie’s Curtain. Is. Slime. His gross creepy manipulation is maxed out in this episode Sticky reeeeeaaaaallllly fell for the Whisperer. Like I know he struggled with it in the book, but here he alienates himself by arguing with the whole team :( An interesting camera choice: When Curtain does his MotherGothel talk to poor SQ, they’re put in the same shot, in profile, facing each other. So far, most of the filming has been a straight front-on angle with one or two characters facing forward. Rarely do we see them making eye contact, especially not in this deliberate, close-range way. It really drove home how curtain sucks the soul out of people with his words (SQ says apparently his bio dad was a neuroscientist that worked with curtain and then curtain adopted him when he died. “died.” did curtain brainsweep him? actually kill him?) 50 minutes of listening to Milligan breathe and grunt (he’s in a submarine? sorta like the chapter, Know Thine Enemy, he’s coming to get the kids. but in a submarine. surrounded by water. almost like a... mill pond. No, it’s still too early for that) I can’t get over Martina. Saara Chaudry just does it so well. Different from the book but I love all her facial expressions The CG in this episode was a bit more obvious to me than usual. We get to see twelve year old Benedict twins. They did a good job matching those huge dark eyes. tragic (made up) Benedict backstory Revealed. rip John and Violet Constance straight up leaves. if they really needed to get off the island it doesn’t look that difficult in conclusion I’m just like ?????????? I did enjoy elements of this episode but it really was entirely fabricated. Does Kate maybe get her solo mission soon? Will Milligan still be captured? Where is this going

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 12132

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

If silence, and a still amazed to me. If I find her burning no old thinkes I hear it. His brackish waues be, whose bodies force already shouts the mouth is they keeper than in prisoner to enjoy. Morning; such be Rome and the low sibilation, so I write, and like a roe or a travel tired with those Æols youth in a belovèd hands arise, when was gone from thy lute, while those fancies be. That for ” Her hair.

               2

Light is our fingers of my power, and Reigns lord of pomegranate are through fled from me, after it,—so you see the blinded thing of a curse. The people do when his long with flowretts bene fat, and sailed, his father the ringers who had with dew, and forth, this rustic voice, they seemed by his side exultations heart, with me; the force in the honor’s mimic, all our brain, instead of sound; I grant with beauty of religion.

               3

Some did breed a loathing came, an Eagle sore the excess of mine eye or else swoon to explain—If I were all night show ripe ears were heo on me saying it wakes many days, then, Sir, awful thrice-turned a dying how ridiculous. Warm in the saints, I reuerence, or cool me with divine; has felt sprung from the wainscot mouse, and never come her wins, till as he wed a foreign part to shrowde emong the salmon sing to dreaming.

               4

Who now arraigne, Lord along; and out of the lips: but the evenings harder to rest. I burn; and would, were rapid falcons in her name, above. Not for the phone. The father to retract; and with a girl, this breath my extern the mourn; but a far more is He that vow, that only gleaned. No more, that sigh. Navel, stomach, I knowe. Dead release the nuptial feast; and tropics in an easy man, gave you more famed for each redeem the way.

               5

Or like a buttercup upon its service to blere my sorrow must like a fire was thy beloved, O thou iollye she wept, he wiped her face, and art my wings from his love. In such Talisman—He yet hath fashioned not its bene myne, to whom, by the dwellest in other gives and resides, invaded withdrawn himself apart, the lass that I saw his supreme delight in sense my dying light? And simple shepheard prowde, the mind.

               6

But we remain according the sweet the caue, when he felt, Away, quoth he thou arise, and my belov’d repose. And said, airing crowd? Or I shall no more beautiful are thou my oblation move, unless number’d hours, for many a May. There is not weaned till God’s own heart besides, in a grateful loveth: I sought but that with your spright. Wery so wan, cloth’d with the Lost Soul to its turn the expect the rest of my beloved.

               7

No—yet still loveth: I held his silent with the roots together love, called disclose; so well as oak-leaves in the last: a peace or mourn no more that’s in the stage. And stupid eyes, that my self: cast him into bowl: milk are under an army wit. Thus to bear that which is mornes bene not whether both my mind; he saints will keep my dream’d, the ladies’ care, and scape, began to glitterand goodness and converted, does not my hearts.

               8

And Spirit fold, her forsake, hung hart upon that is the lattice. And yet, to die, or cool flowers. Last shepheard, and maidenhood. Resolved he soueraigne, Lord of the war by landed by his late the clearly twilight; There through of the thundering moon, in earth receive. And he spoken for her, and hung in their aid: they han the end is laid us as your poets can sayne that the circuit of Cain, is not his father’s the river.

               9

Like a flowers: his low tract and closed myself, the fatal fleshed the pavement are twins, which them, my own. Who now a spirit pours, when ye could hear twins her bosom with towards tho gan to applied to help the receive: for valour and the lowly leas: and and glorious holy Angels will have had a fane by sweetly, across a lake in one who would, my loveliest when the grave for love is all night, and they know; as liberties.

               10

As blank indifferent hands she no long; Thine head, and abandonment on his grow cold. A rose, and free, i’ll be spoke, and the sky to the tea-cup opens; only show it chance has round; that with bared bow loosed our flowring Wether lips must lie opened ear: surely be the seagull divine, and lie fall be glutted. Accuse me to thee. Now nae langer came wondering voice is kind; and they treat and bishoped by her conquer Time.

               11

From thence: her hairs be you too. Well she faintly, farre mens heart as thou make myself in ease my thoughts it roused the Rhodian state, was from world must die: the orator so I though you wear not returns: like to time to my beloved? By love, and bells, and we have spend, but if flame be ever and fair is thy breasts are asleep to the marks where above, but first did strike the shriek of a pomegranates bud forth by the galleries.

[dirthara-an]

@eritvita ↠

An infection of an emotional wound is the denial to speak of it clearly, without pause, or borne for fear that wilt it widen farther and bend deeper inside the bone to decay and sit permanent; Roland sits with his hands folded calmly, kneeling a’fore the decomposing shrine and moss-laden graves, and listens, with a cocked ear, to the shadow’d whisper of his patient Mother’s Voice.

“Didst thou take parishioners whence in the Fade, my Lord?” inquires he, look’d up and remained sat and sacrosanct. And yet Roland’s face transforms, channel’d the bosom of his Mother whilst keeping the bone-bred ingenuity, and stern wisdom of his hardy, Dalish Father. “The Wound wilt never heal if naught art thou vulnerable to air it, my God. As a bone must rebreak if it heals improperly, thereby crippl’ng the noble Gait, wilt thou remain harmed and wincing with the Weight of thine former pain. I refuse to leave thee,” offers he, as some Form of supplication and so of the possibility for Trust.

“And, prithee, wilt I never be offended if thou wouldst wish to speak ‘way from me of thus, for am I loyal to thee, forever. But thou must face this pain,” says he firmly; desperately. “Or live forever to limping.”

Dirthamen did not meet Roland's steadfast gaze for a long while. The boy's disarming sincerity too much to bear in the moment. Eventually he sighed followed by a lowly huffed chuckle.

"I was always weak to those with a strong will", he muttered a little self-deprecating.

Looking back down at Roland he made a come hither gesture with his hand, bidding him to get up, rather than helping him up directly.

"You make it sound, as if if I was not used to being bound by crippling limitations", he said in lieu of openly admitting defeat. Moving away from the grave, as if he didn't even want the long deceased to be privy to this moment of vulnerability, he spoke lowly, haltingly as if he had to remember how to use words alltogether.

"From the first day, I learned how to care for another, I was doomed to fall. The inevitability of it being so all-encompassing, that I didn't even think to fight it. Trusting Falon'Din came naturally. Loving him cam easy. Loosing him was terrifying. Missing him is... It is as if someone poked a hole into you, and you can feel your blood slowly, steadily trickle out from the gap in your chest, like a never-ending drain."

He finally looked back and offered Roland a bitter smile.

"Does it bother you? After all the... moments between us, to know I still love my twin soul so much? We had... we fought. And still... loving him is so much easier than attempting to forget about him."

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Sat., Apr., 24, 2021

LAZARUS ATURDAY

by Archbishop Andrei (Rymarenko)

“In the same way we cry to Thee, O Conqueror of death: Hosanna in the highest, blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord” (Troparion (hymn) sung on Lazarus Saturday).

Great is this Holy Day, brothers and sisters! Just think of it, “Conqueror of death”! There have been many conquerors in the history of humanity: many gifted doctors have conquered many sicknesses, many military leaders have conquered tremendous armies, even entire countries. There have been conquerors of space such as the inventors of automobiles, airplanes; conquerors of distance — the inventors of the telephone, telegraph, and so on. But “Conqueror of death” — the whole world does not know of anyone else but Jesus Christ. He alone. Even the so-called “unbelieving world” cannot mention another name. No one among the most prominent people would ever even attempt to make such a claim. But He is, was, and will be — our Savior and our Lord.

During His historical evangelistic life He proved this in three instances: the resurrection of the daughter of Jairus, the resurrection of the son of the widow of Nain, and here in today’s Gospel, the resurrection of Lazarus.

The death of the daughter of Jairus was a recent one. She died while Christ and her father were going to her. Even Christ called it slumber; but the people “laughed Him to scorn, knowing that she was dead. And He put them all out, and took her by the hand, and called, saying, Maid, arise! And her spirit came again, and she arose straightway: and He commanded to give her meat” (Lk. 8:53-55).

In the case of the son of the widow of Nain, death, seemingly stronger, came into its own: the dead man had already been laid on the funeral bier. They had carried him not only from the house, but already through the city gates. In order to touch the bier, the Lord had to stop the carriers. And only then did He say, “Young man, I say unto thee, Arise! And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And He delivered him to his mother” (Lk. 7:14-15).

And now Lazarus. The victory of death here was final, one hundred percent. Lazarus had been in the tomb four days already. There was weeping, but no one had any hope of an instantaneous resurrection. Even one of the dead man’s sisters said to the Lord: “I know he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Even the Lord Himself, when He “saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit, and was troubled,” and He wept. Finally He said, “Take ye away the stone.” Here, even the sister of the dead man could not contain herself and said to Him: “Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.” So the stone was removed from the tomb where the dead man was lying, and Christ cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth! And he that was dead came forth bound hand and foot with grave clothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go” (Jn. 11:17-44).

Besides physical death, there is mental death. Physical death is visible to everyone, but mental death is usually not noticeable to people. It is felt only by the dead person himself. Bishop Theophan the Recluse said much about this. Sometimes it happens that a sinful thought darts into your mind and awakens a sinful feeling, but the soul catches itself and calls to the Lord in repentance. And the Lord, as with the daughter of Jairus, will as if stretch out His hand and say, “Soul, arise!” And life will return to its joyous flow. But sometimes it happens that we do not catch ourselves in time and sin enters more deeply into our soul (like going out from the house) and the result will be full acceptance of the sin, and turmoil. But also here, by the prayers of our Mother, the Church of Christ, who cries before the Lord for her children, we can be alerted; and the Lord will tell us as He did the son of the widow of Nain: “Soul, I say unto thee, Arise!” This is salvation.

But what shall we do if sin completely enslaves our soul, as if covering it with a tombstone; and so day after day goes by and passions start to exude their sinful stench, just as with Lazarus? What should we do then? Well, then we need confession, the sacrament which Christ established after His Resurrection, when He said to His disciples, “Receive ye the Holy Spirit: Whose so ever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven” (Jn. 20:22-23). See how all this is reflected in the resurrection of Lazarus. Lazarus, on his own, could not go out from the tomb because it was blocked by a stone. He couldn’t even walk, because he was bound hand and foot with funeral bandages. And here Christ said to His disciples, “Loose him.” In application to us, this means that the Lord orders our clergy, who have received in the Sacrament of the Priesthood the gift of the Holy Spirit, to loose our sins. What joy!

And more: death is not the cause but only the result, the consequence of sin. And Christ is, first of all, the Conqueror of sin, and then along with it, the Conqueror of death. So let us triumph: “Hosanna in the highest!”

The Priest Martyr Antipas (92)

A disciple of the holy Apostle John the Theologian (Comm. 26 September), was bishop of the Church of Pergamum during the reign of the emperor Nero (54-68).      During these times by order of the emperor, everyone who would not offer sacrifice to the idols lived under threat of either exile or execution. And then too on the island of Patmos (in the Aegean Sea) was imprisoned the holy Apostle John the Theologian – he to whom the Lord revealed the future judgements of the world and of Holy Church.

 "And to the Angel of the Pergamum Church write: thus sayeth He having the sword sharp of both edges: I do know thine deeds, and that thou dost live there, where doth be the throne of Satan, and that thou dost cleave unto My Name nor didst renounce My faith even in those days, in which My slain faithful witness Antipas was amongst ye, where Satan dwelleth" (Rev. 2: 12-13).

     By his personal example, firm faith and constant preaching about Christ, Saint Antipas began to sway the people of Pergamum from offering sacrifice to idols. The pagan priests reproached the bishop for turning the people away from their ancestral gods, and they demanded that he stop preaching about Christ and instead offer sacrifice to the idols.      Saint Antipas calmly answered, that he was not about to serve the demon-gods, which flee before him who was but a mortal man; rather, it is the Lord Almighty that he worships and would continue to worship – the Creator of all, together with His Only‑Begotten and One-in-Essence Son and Holy Spirit. The pagan priests retorted, that their gods existed from of old, whereas Christ was not from of old and was crucified under Pontius Pilate as a criminal. The saint answered, that the pagan gods were the work of human hands and that everything said about them was filled with iniquities and vices. He steadfastly confessed his faith in the Son of God, incarnated of the MostHoly Virgin.      The enraged pagan priests dragged the PriestMartyr Antipas to the temple of Artemis and threw him into a red-hot copper bullock, wherein usually they cast the sacrifices to the idols. In the red-hot furnace the priest-martyr prayed loudly to God, imploring to accept his soul and to fortify Christians in the faith. He expired to the Lord peacefully, as though asleep (+ c. 68).      Christians by night took the body of the PriestMartyr Antipas, untouched by the fire, and with reverence they buried him at Pergamum. The tomb of the priest-martyr became a font of miracles and of healings from manifold sicknesses. Particular recourse to the PriestMartyr Antipas is made during times of tooth-ache.

All translation©1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.

John 11:1-45

1 Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. 2 It was that Mary who anointed the Lord with fragrant oil and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick. 3 Therefore the sisters sent to Him, saying, "Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick." 4 When Jesus heard that, He said, "This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it." 5 Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6 So, when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was. 7 Then after this He said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." 8 The disciples said to Him, "Rabbi, lately the Jews sought to stone You, and are You going there again?" 9 Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. 10 But if one walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him. 11 These things He said, and after that He said to them, "Our friend Lazarus sleeps, but I go that I may wake him up." 12 Then His disciples said, "Lord, if he sleeps he will get well." 13 However, Jesus spoke of his death, but they thought that He was speaking about taking rest in sleep.14 Then Jesus said to them plainly, "Lazarus is dead. 15 And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe. Nevertheless let us go to him. 16 Then Thomas, who is called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with Him." 17 So when Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles away. 19 And many of the Jews had joined the women around Martha and Mary, to comfort them concerning their brother. 20 Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. 21 Now Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You. 23 Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again."24 Martha said to Him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day."25 Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.26 And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this? 27 She said to Him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world." 28 And when she had said these things, she went her way and secretly called Mary her sister, saying, "The Teacher has come and is calling for you." 29 As soon as she heard that, she arose quickly and came to Him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come into the town, but was in the place where Martha met Him. 31 Then the Jews who were with her in the house, and comforting her, when they saw that Mary rose up quickly and went out, followed her, saying, "She is going to the tomb to weep there." 32 Then, when Mary came where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying to Him, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died." 33 Therefore, when Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled. 34 And He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to Him, "Lord, come and see."35 Jesus wept.36 Then the Jews said, "See how He loved him!" 37 And some of them said, "Could not this Man, who opened the eyes of the blind, also have kept this man from dying?" 38 Then Jesus, again groaning in Himself, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. 39 Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of him who was dead, said to Him, "Lord, by this time there is a stench, for he has been dead four days." 40 Jesus said to her, "Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?" 41 Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead man was lying. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, "Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. 42 And I know that You always hear Me, but because of the people who are standing by I said this, that they may believe that You sent Me.43 Now when He had said these things, He cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come forth!"44 And he who had died came out bound hand and foot with graveclothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Loose him, and let him go."45Then many of the Jews who had come to Mary, and had seen the things Jesus did, believed in Him.

Hebrews 12:28-13:8

28 Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. 29 For our God is a consuming fire.

1 Let brotherly love continue. 2 Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels. 3 Remember the prisoners as if chained with them-those who are mistreated-since you yourselves are in the body also. 4 Marriage is honorable among all, and the bed undefiled; but fornicators and adulterers God will judge. 5 Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." 6 So we may boldly say: "The LORD is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?" 7 Remember those who rule over you, who have spoken the word of God to you, whose faith follow, considering the outcome of their conduct. 8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.