#sower of the wind

[cienie-isengardu]

Covers for Bramy Jasności [Gates of Light] volume 1 and 2  made by Dark Crayon

[anielska-propaganda]

Zapostowałem anielskiego (Gabriel/Razjel) ficzka, aby choć na chwilę zapomnieć, że zacząłem właśnie studia magisterskie. xdd Dziękuję bardzo @latetotheparty za przypilnowanie mnie, bym nie pisał polglishem.

Aha, fik zainspirowany artem, którego jakimś cudem nigdy tu nie wrzuciłem:

[thelastofthebookworms]

You'll find the other polls in my 'sf polls' tag / my pinned post. I also have a 'fantasy polls' tag and 'fairy tales' tag in my pinned post.

[azotowanie]

if i had a nickle for everytime a black haired and blue eyed angel appeared in media and instantly became my favourite character i would have 2 nickles which is not a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

[zarasu]

Cw depression, Binghe's depression becomes physical

***

The first months Luo Binghe is in the Endless Abyss, he's so busy fighting for his life and trying to stay sane that he wouldn't notice any changes in his body even if they did happen. Then, towards the end of his first year down there, he catches a break.

He is sitting in a cave, peeling his blood- and dirt crusted robes off of his body when he notices it. The scar right over his heart, where Shizun's sword pierced his flesh, is black.

First, he thinks it's dirt and tries to clean it as much as he can.

But it doesn't come off. Instead, as he scrubs the thin barrier of skin over it away, it breaks open and a strange, dark grey goo starts leaking out.

It doesn't look like anything that should come out of his body.

But Luo Binghe's body has changed so drastically over the last few months, has done so many things it isn't supposed to, that he can't muster up any fear for what could just be another demonic peculiarity.

He washes his robes in the green river running through the cave, cleans the grey goo off his chest and pulls his robes back on.

It keeps happening. Sometimes it heals just enough that he can go a few days without any... leakage. Then, he's in a fight and it breaks open again. Sometimes, it just builds up for too long and breaks open anyway.

Sometime during the second year, he finds the emotional capacity to be mildly concerned about it. Besides leaking, it also starts to spread. The black escapes the scar and starts to taint the skin around it in strange shapes, winding and curling like the long vines of a plant.

He begins to suspect that he has been cursed. Or maybe, one of the plants of the abyss has found its way into his skin and is now spreading inside his body. He doesn't know. Even if he did know, what could he do to stop it?

In any case, he doesn't get weaker. He can still fight and still flee and that's the most important part. And, in the privacy of his mind, he admits that sometimes, he kind of likes it. When the grey mud gushes out of his heart and stains his chest, when it runs down his arms and drips off his fingers.

No matter how he badly he gets injured, his body always heals, returning to a perfect, unblemished state.

The black scar and the way it stains him grey is the only thing that makes his outsides match how he's feeling inside.

The truth is, he doesn't try that hard to get rid of it. He gets used to it, even as it spreads further, until his chest is covered with curling black, possessively cradling him like thorny vines. He leaves a trail of grey if he doesn't keep his torso wrapped and clean.

It doesn't stop, even when he gets out of the abyss. The demons he fights and defeats don't dare mention it. Mobei-jun, when Binghe pins him to the ground and declares his victory, looks at his chest and frowns, but he drops the matter when Luo Binghe roughly pushes him away.

Then he's at Huan Hua Palace and, for once, has to truly hide his condition. He keeps his chest wrapped and vanishes now and then to change the bandages and clean up the goo. The drains of Huan Hua are flooded with grey and unbidden, Luo Binghe has to laugh.

He's reminded of women after they birth a child, desperately trying to keep the leakage contained.

Any child he fed this milk to would surely become a monster.

It was appropriate, in a way.

Then he's in Jinlan City, investigating a strange sickness. When he realises it's sowers, he knows he needs to be careful not to let them touch him. Anyone trying to treat him would pull up his long sleeve and be greeted by the sight of black, inhuman vines under his skin.

It's all manageable, all routine, until he turns around and there's Shizun.

Suddenly, he breathes in and, for the first time in a long while, feels something. It's not until the feeling brings a speck of colour with it that he realises his world has become entirely grey.

Shizun is as cold as stone towards him. His face doesn't betray any of his thoughts, he looks at Luo Binghe impassively and quietly while he talks and laughs with others.

Now more than ever, Luo Binghe feels like a child left in the middle of a large, grey sea, abandoned and forced to watch as he is disregarded.

Over the course of a few hours, the black vines creep down his legs. When he is alone in his room, he coughs and a string of grey drips out of his mouth onto the table.

He blankly stares at it for some time.

Then, he goes to confront Shen Qingqiu.

Things escalate quickly and Luo Binghe can't say he's sad about it. Finally, finally, Shen Qingqiu looks at him, shows some emotions other than disinterest on his beloved, hated face.

He chases him through Jinlan City on his sword and corners him in an alley. He knows he's frightening. He doesn't care, even when Shen Qingqiu points his sword at him.

It pierces his hand and Luo Binghe looks down, curious if it'll be blood or grey goo coming out of it.

It's red blood, surprisingly. Now that it's there, he might as well use it.

He pins Shen Qingqiu against a wall and pushes his bloody hand against his mouth, forcing the blood onto his tongue, down his throat.

Turns out his Shizun is only human, after all.

Shen Qingqiu swallows and his eyes dart around in fear. They catch on the front of Luo Binghe's robes and he abruptly stills. Luo Binghe realises that, during the hunt, the scar broke open again and stained his robes grey.

It must be a bemusing sight for Shen Qingqiu. Still, Luo Binghe doesn't expect him to care for long. He's all the more surprised when Shen Qingqiu seems to forget all about fleeing and, instead, gently grabs Binghe's wrist and guides his hand away from his mouth.

He thinks about resisting, at first, but he's becoming a little curious about what Shen Qingqiu is trying to do.

As soon as he can move, Shen Qingqiu is patting over his robes. "What is this," he asks. "Binghe, are you hurt?"

"Now, Shizun cares?" Luo Binghe laughs bitterly, but Shen Qingqiu doesn't seem to hear him. He's too busy parting Luo Binghe's robes.

He lets him. He's tired of hiding.

The black scar is uncovered, and the myriad of black vines spreading all over his body with it. They're all bleeding now, grey liquid flowing down his body in rivulets.

He looks like a broken cup, Luo Binghe thinks. Shattered and leaking everything that was inside.

"What is this," Shen Qingqiu asks, with the most horrified expression Luo Binghe has ever seen from him.

He touches the scar and his hand is immediately stained grey. He pulls it back and stares at it silently.

Luo Binghe wonders if he's disgusted.

Instead, life seems to return to his body and he suddenly grabs Luo Binghe by the shoulders. "Binghe, have you been cursed?"

He moves to touch the scar again and Luo Binghe grasps his wrist to stop him. He stains his wrist further with the touch.

"It's not a curse," he says quietly.

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him helplessly and Luo Binghe has the old, familiar thought that he is beautiful.

"What is happening to you?" he asks.

Luo Binghe is still angry, and hurt, and lost. But, right now, he finds it in himself to answer honestly. "I don't know."

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. "This isn't supposed to happen."

A laugh escapes him. None of this had been supposed to happen. Luo Binghe feels that his life has stopped being anything like it's supposed to be from the moment he was pushed into the abyss.

But Shen Qingqiu seems more distressed about this, of all things, than anything else that happened.

He grabs Luo Binghe tighter and seems to barely resist shaking him as he insistently says: "Don't worry, Binghe, we will figure this out. We will find a way to help you."

Luo Binghe stares at him silently. Maybe he should feel more about this. He tries, but he just feels cold. He doesn't know if this is real. Shen Qingqiu cast him away so easily. Why would he be concerned now?

Shen Qingqiu seems to finally realise he might as well shake a stone with how little Luo Binghe reacts. He draws back a step, suddenly looks smaller.

"Unless... That is, I know you don't like me right now. Or rather, hate me. That's alright. I promise, you can hate me as much as you want to, but you need to be healthy to do it, alright? Just, let me help you this one time. I might know someone who can help you."

Luo Binghe shakes his head in denial and Shen Qingqiu grows fierce again, his eyebrows drawing together like elegant swords. "Binghe, don't be stubborn now! I swear, you can take your revenge however you want, later, when you're better again. But right now, nothing matters more than this."

He hesitates, looks to the side and back to Luo Binghe's chest. "Please, Binghe, let me help you."

Luo Binghe is standing on an island in the middle of a large, grey sea, and he knows he has been abandoned. There is no one coming to save him, he has been forgotten.

Except now, the one who abandoned him in the first place has come back, is reaching out towards him, is offering his hand to help Luo Binghe off the island.

Luo Binghe is afraid to take that hand. He's afraid to do anything. He doesn't know if he wants to be saved anymore.

But Shen Qingqiu is still looking at him with pleading eyes and Luo Binghe's biggest weakness has always been that he has a soft heart for the people he loves.

He doesn't know if he wants to be saved but, even after everything that happened, he can't bear to disappoint Shizun.

Slowly, slowly, he reaches out and grasps Shen Qingqiu's sleeve.

Shen Qingqiu exhales sharply and pulls him off the island and into his arms.

Luo Binghe takes a breath. The air tastes like spring.

[fallingtowers]

on the planet of serpent cults, where heat lightning always flickers on the far horizon, the queen of swords roams.

a thief, a reaver, a slayer: she is all these things and more. she embraces danger like a lover, and makes a fool of fate. she knows the five secret ways into the cursed temple, where one false move means death. she does battle with skeleton warriors while the stormclouds gather and the rising wind whips the tresses of her hair, which is black as grief or bright as gold—whatever works best for you.

1929, 1932, 1939—the year of publication is irrelevant; the queen of swords is always in her prime, and never grows old or infirm. if she dies, she will die by the sword, and that will never happen as long as she has an audience, and on the planet of jungles and ziggurats the golden age of pulps never ends. she is often wounded, but there is always a hut with dried herbs hanging from the rafters and a kindhearted peasant daughter to nurse her back to health, until the wound is just another scar.

she has so many scars.

she wears a bikini of bronze scales, which is the expected outfit for a woman in her line of work, but she would have worn it even if it wasn't, because she enjoys showing off. her body is muscular and sword-marked. her girlbulge is considerable. her pupils are dilated and her teeth stained red from chewing a root she got in the silver city, where every building is a generations-old repurposed spacecraft, and all the inhabitants are telepathic, and drugs grow freely in every garden. the root improves her reflexes as well as having an aphrodisiac effect, which is a useful combination on the planet of tombs and warlords, where lascivious sorceresses lurk behind every corner.

(when she was just a boy, her entire village was put to the sword. now she scatters deathblows the way a sower scatters seeds, and plumes of blood sprout in her wake. there is nothing wrong or unhealthy about this. it's the natural order of things, on the planet of conquest and savagery.)

the queen of swords, who dances on the razor's edge, who flouts the laws of men and gods! the horse she rides is always rearing; she is always backlit by lightning; her cloak snaps in the boreal gale. vallejo, frazetta, norem—everyone who is anyone has painted her. her name is whispered in the city of knives, where thieves hide in every cellar and hounds of bone and black smoke stalk the roofs, and in the city of sails, and in the city of broken idols. they speak of her even in the city of jeweled thrones, the greatest of all the cities of men, where sleep martyrs take stimulants that keep them awake until it kills them, and sarong-clad princesses burn for her touch.

though she has visited a thousand cities, she has no home. though she has taken a thousand lovers, she has never married. she lies awake late into the night, turning her melancholies this way and that like puzzle boxes.

on the planet of dust storms and pterosaurs, where every swamp teems with lizard-men and eight-foot-tall arthropodal reavers from beyond the stars descend in dropships made of steel and crystallized honeydew, there is always another adventure. but afterwards, in the silence after the clash of steel, she leaves empty-handed. the jewels slip between her fingers, and when her latest woman asks her to stay, of course she cannot accept. there is always another adventure, another forgotten dungeon or distant beckoning city, and as long as she has an audience, the queen of swords must roam.

yes, hers is a lonely life, but look, look: as she trudges through the violet sands of the southern wastes, drops of rain begin to fall, fat and blood-warm, stirring the hot dust—and the desert blooms around her.

[pokemonunderdogtournament]

Best Gen 9 Underdog with a Signature Ability 9️⃣🪄

Round 4 - Match 2

Our Contestants:

This poll is part of an event that allows the early eliminees from the main tournament have more time in the spotlight!

[saltoftheearth5x2]

Luke 8

Over the 24 days leading up to Christmas, I'm going to be posting a chapter of Luke every day. I encourage you to read through Luke's gospel and reflect on Jesus's time here on earth. Perhaps you'll find something new.

Masterlist

Luke 8 (NIV)

The Parable of the Sower

After this, Jesus traveled about from one town and village to another, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. The Twelve were with him, 2 and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out; 3 Joanna the wife of Chuza, the manager of Herod’s household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping to support them out of their own means.

4 While a large crowd was gathering and people were coming to Jesus from town after town, he told this parable: 5 “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds ate it up. 6 Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. 7 Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. 8 Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.”

When he said this, he called out, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

9 His disciples asked him what this parable meant. 10 He said, “The knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of God has been given to you, but to others I speak in parables, so that,

“‘though seeing, they may not see;

though hearing, they may not understand.’

11 “This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God. 12 Those along the path are the ones who hear, and then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. 13 Those on the rocky ground are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away. 14 The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature. 15 But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop.

A Lamp on a Stand

16 “No one lights a lamp and hides it in a clay jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, they put it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light. 17 For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. 18 Therefore consider carefully how you listen. Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what they think they have will be taken from them.”

Jesus’ Mother and Brothers

19 Now Jesus’ mother and brothers came to see him, but they were not able to get near him because of the crowd. 20 Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you.”

21 He replied, “My mother and brothers are those who hear God’s word and put it into practice.”

Jesus Calms the Storm

22 One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” So they got into a boat and set out. 23 As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.

24 The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”

He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. 25 “Where is your faith?” he asked his disciples.

In fear and amazement they asked one another, “Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.”

Jesus Restores a Demon-Possessed Man

26 They sailed to the region of the Gerasenes, which is across the lake from Galilee. 27 When Jesus stepped ashore, he was met by a demon-possessed man from the town. For a long time this man had not worn clothes or lived in a house, but had lived in the tombs. 28 When he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell at his feet, shouting at the top of his voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don’t torture me!” 29 For Jesus had commanded the impure spirit to come out of the man. Many times it had seized him, and though he was chained hand and foot and kept under guard, he had broken his chains and had been driven by the demon into solitary places.

30 Jesus asked him, “What is your name?”

“Legion,” he replied, because many demons had gone into him. 31 And they begged Jesus repeatedly not to order them to go into the Abyss.

32 A large herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside. The demons begged Jesus to let them go into the pigs, and he gave them permission. 33 When the demons came out of the man, they went into the pigs, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

34 When those tending the pigs saw what had happened, they ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, 35 and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. 36 Those who had seen it told the people how the demon-possessed man had been cured. 37 Then all the people of the region of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them, because they were overcome with fear. So he got into the boat and left.

38 The man from whom the demons had gone out begged to go with him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, 39 “Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him.

Jesus Raises a Dead Girl and Heals a Sick Woman

40 Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. 41 Then a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house 42 because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying.

As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. 43 And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. 44 She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.

45 “Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”

46 But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.”

47 Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. 48 Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

49 While Jesus was still speaking, someone came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. “Your daughter is dead,” he said. “Don’t bother the teacher anymore.”

50 Hearing this, Jesus said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”

51 When he arrived at the house of Jairus, he did not let anyone go in with him except Peter, John and James, and the child’s father and mother. 52 Meanwhile, all the people were wailing and mourning for her. “Stop wailing,” Jesus said. “She is not dead but asleep.”

53 They laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. 54 But he took her by the hand and said, “My child, get up!” 55 Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up. Then Jesus told them to give her something to eat. 56 Her parents were astonished, but he ordered them not to tell anyone what had happened

....

All of this was taken from the Bible Gateway, which is an online Bible that you can easily search up. For those of you who do not have Bibles of your own, I encourage you to use online resources like Bible Gateway to read God's word.

Happy Holidays!

If you have any questions regarding the Christian faith, please ask me in my ask box. I am not a perfect person, but I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. We all have much more to learn, myself included. So please, do not be shy.

[queer-reader-07]

I'll help you procrastinate!

What were your favorite books as a child, and what are your favorite books now?

Also, I need book recs. Preferably fantasy or sci-fi, but I'm not opposed to other genres.

you, my friend, have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into

my favorite childhood books were definitely the Magic Treehouse books and Percy Jackson! (although i'm still a huge Rick Riordan fan to this day)

i say my number one spot is tied between The Feeling of Falling in Love by Mason Deaver (a truly beautiful YA t4t romcom that i WILL peddle until my dying breath). and Dune by Frank Herbert! (the duality of man, if you will). i've written many a long winded pieces on Dune but if you haven't read it already go do that <3

i also read a lot more nonfiction nowadays, usually feminist & liberationist literature & memoir! (and ofc my fair share of romcoms and occasional litfic... as i say this i'm realizing that aside from horror i kind of read it all 😅)

SFF book recs!! (i'll throw in some other genres at the end if you do decide to branch out 👀)

i am a HUGE Octavia Butler fan so i'm going to recommend Dawn & The Parable of the Sower

Dawn is the first in the Xenogenesis/Lilith's Brood series (and i will admit that i have yet to read the sequels, don't come for me i'm ass at finishing series). I love this novel for how it discusses what it means to be human through explorations of race and gender in the wake of an apocalyptic event. I'd also class this novel under "it's about hope if you pay attention enough" which is a huge thing for me

The Parable of the Sower is part of a duology (which i have finished!) although was meant to be a longer series, unfortunately Butler passed before finishing it. this is the book that had me going "this woman is a prophet" because of how much the events of the novel remind me of the modern day. set in the 2020s in the wake of climate and economic collapse, we follow Lauren, a teenager with hyper empathy (a condition she has due to her mom's drug use during pregnancy) as she not only works to survive in a crumbling society but also build a new future for humanity. this is another story that i believe is at its core about hope, but that specific kind of hope that can only exist because of the despair one has experienced. a hope borne out of a refusal to accept destruction as the only way forward. a hope borne out of a love for humanity.

A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers!!! this is a soft, quiet, tender story about a robot who just wants to learn what humans need. and this robot starts to learn that when it encounters a monk who just wants to be in the wilderness alone to find their true calling in life.

Babel by RF Kuang is one of those books that i will fully admit is a tad bit condescending to the reader but nonetheless i find it a great and engaging place to start when it comes to literature that explores the violent ramifications of colonialism. like yes it overexplains things that i think could've been left to subtext, but i will also point to it before i point to academia, ya know?

The Ninth Rain by Jen Williams follows a main character who is like if Indiana Jones was a Black lesbian in a fantasy world and better. i call this one "not necessarily adventure gone wrong but rather adventure became far larger and graver than you could have ever imagined." empires on the brink of collapse, a species of creatures people don't quite understand are about to return, and the ninth rain is imminent. (also part of a series i have yet to finish, im sorry!!)

Masters of Death by Olivie Blake. this one has NG vibes but is written by a markedly better person!! the godson of Death, a vampire real estate agent trying to sell a house and a ghost haunting said house (he's quite the pain in the ass if you ask her), and some really high stakes games involving the literal gods; what could possibly go wrong? (specifically recommending the audiobook for this one, it was phenomenal!) (this one is also very gay!!)

ok now i'm gonna throw some non sff at you to try to get you out of your comfort zone :)

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong is a heartwrenching memoir-esque narrative of a queer boy writing to his mother in a language he knows she cannot read. it tells the story of what it's like to be an immigrant and the child of one, of what it means to be queer in a culture that doesn't accept you. it is, at its core, a story about the urgency of survival and the anguish of love that explores how we find joy in this broken mess of a world. (i read this one in a Gender in Lit and Film class i took my freshman year of highschool for a unit on masculinity and it has 100% shaped how i view and interact with masculinity especially in regards to race)

in a similar vein but not quite i'll also recommend Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin. written in the 50s, this is a heartbreaking story to two queer men falling passionately in love only for it all to be ripped apart. i've recommended this book before alongside the lyrics to Good Luck Babe! by Chappell Roan. "you can kiss a hundred boys in bars // shoot another shot just to stop the feeling // you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling"

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett is a novel i read right around when it came out back in 2020 and i really ought to revisit. it is, in my opinion, one of the best fictional explorations of what it means to be a mixed race person in the US. Bennett explores race in the United States through two twin sisters, both biracial, one who lives her life in the town they grew up in as a Black woman and the other out west as a White woman. told throughout generations their lives become more and more intertwined (were they ever really separate?).

probably my favorite memoir of all time is A Mind Spread Out on the Ground by Alicia Elliot which explores race, gender, colonization, and more through the lens of Elliot's experience as a mixed race, First Nations Indigenous woman. the title comes from the Mohawk phrase for depression and it is with the same urgency and feeling that that phrase evokes that Elliot writes all her essays with. I particularly think of her essay titled "Half Breed: A Racial Biography in Five Parts" because its exploration of the grief only felt by being mixed or having mixed children is deeply personal to me. however, all her essays have so much depth and emotion to offer.

i'm not sure if romance novels or YA contemporary are your thing but if you're interested shoot me another ask about those, didn't include them here since those are more "you like em or you don't" imo

ok that's all for now thank you for providing me this distraction and giving me a chance to go full special interest on you <33

[daughterofhecata]

2025 Book Bingo TBR

Alright, I'll try to get through @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 book bingo next year, and I have made a list in preparation this time instead of just filling out squares as I go and then scrambling for the last fills at the end of the year.

Let's see if I can stick to it, and also fill the last empty spaces.

1. Literary Fiction: [to be decided]

I don’t currently have any on my TBR I realized, so we’ll see. Certainly keeping the recommendations of Raven Leilani’s Luster, Melissa Broder’s Milk Fed and Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar as options in here.

2. Short Story Collection: Mariana Enríquez: A Sunny Place for Shady People [org. title: Un lugar soleado para gente sombría]

A biiiit of a placeholder, maybe, taken from the reading updates of Mr Gatewaydrug; sounds interesting but idk if I’ll be able to actually get my hands on it.

3. A Sequel: Xiran Jay Zhao: Heavenly Tyrant / Luke Arnold: Whisper in the Wind

I hadn’t gotten the memo that the sequel to Iron Widow is coming out next year and now I’m excited! But we’re also getting #4 of Luke Arnold’s brilliant fantasy noir series next April, so I’ll probably get to that first. Can’t wait to find out what my boy Fetch will be up to now.

4. Childhood Favorite: Derek Landy: Skulduggery Pleasant / Peter Freund: Laura und das Geheimnis von Aventerra

I’ve been missing the old Skulduggery vibes for a while now, so I might revisit the first book. Or see how the Laura series holds up; I was pretty obsessed with that as a teen but haven’t touched it in almost fifteen years.

5. 20th Century Speculative Fiction: Diana Wynne Jones: Howls’ Moving Castle / Octavia Butler: Parable of the Sower

I’ve been meaning to read Howl for a while, maybe I’ll get around to it next year. Or I’ll read some more Octavia Butler, depending on how I like Fledgling (on my list for December).

6. Fantasy: James Oswald: The Damage Done. An Inspector McLean Novel.

Silly little crime novels are generally a personal favourite and I really like how Oswald weaves in and treats the fantasy elements of his world, so I’m looking forward to finding out what poor Tony has to suffer next – originally this book was planned for December, but got pushed back by readings for class.

7. Published Before 1950: Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice

2025 will be the year I finally read P&P, I promise.

8. Independent Publisher: [to be decided]

I got it easy here tbh, Germany has a good share of it’s own publishers, so there’s bound to be something. Ideally I’ll get my hands on the third part of Christian Handel’s Hexenwald-Chroniken, because that’s from a very small fantasy publisher and I loved the first two parts, but idk if that’ll happen yet.

9. Graphic Novel/Comic Book/Manga: Christopher Tauber: Justus Jonas – Eine Interpretation

Since we Germans massively ran away with Robert Arthur’s Three Investigators series, we don’t only have like roughly 200 books more than the American continuation (incl. Crime Busters), we also have a couple spinoffs and one of them is a beautifully dark and painful vision of their future in graphic novel form and we’re getting a sequel to that in Febuary and I can’t wait to see how much that will hurt.

10. Animal on the Cover: [to be decided]

I don’t fucking know yet, I’ll have to see what book I come across.

11. Set in a Country You Have Never Visited: Maurice Leblanc: Arsène Lupin. Das goldene Dreieck. [org. title: Le Triangle d'or]

This year I started making my way through the Arsène Lupin books in earnest and I still have a couple of those left AND I've never been to France – although I certainly aim to change that at some point, I'll definitely get to this book before I get to do that.

12. Science Fiction: Karel Čapek: R.U.R.

R.U.R. is a sci-fi play I’ve been meaning to read for a while now, because I love that both the concept of the robot and the word robot are a Czech invention (based on robota, which describes a form of forced labour). Also I loved what I’ve read of Čapek so far.

13. 2025 Debut Author: [to be decided]

Since I absolutely never keep up with things that get published, this is kinda the furthest thing from a free space for me, but I guess I’ll find something. Absolutely open to recommendations, and obviously also curious to see what other people will read for this space.

14. Memoir: Rob Halford: Confess

Rob Halford’s autobiography has been on my list for a while, I haven’t been able to get it via library so far, maybe I just have to bite the bullet and buy it.

15. Read a Zine, Make a Zine: New York’s Worst Responders. NYPD and 9/11.

I’m always interested in reading about the ways the police system is rotten to the core (I want to say, the ways in which it fails, but lbr, it’s a feature, not a bug, the system works exactly the way most cops want it to), and this has been on my list for a while. The making of a zine is another question.

16. Essay Collection: [to be decided]

If anyone has recommendations?

17. 2024 Award Winner: Cari Hunter: A Calculated Risk

Took a look around the Lamda Awards, this sounded most interesting to me as someone still a crime novel reader at heart, we’ll see if I’ll get to ths or maybe switch in something with a German award.

18. Nonfiction: Learn Something New: Ingrid Strobl: Die Angst kam erst danach

I'm cheating a bit here, since I already know quite a lot about WW2 and the Shoah, but I don't have much knowledge about the role of female resistance fighters yet, and I'm really looking forward to learning more about that. But maybe I'll swap in something about the Golden Age of Piracy or Störtebecker, if I come across something.

19. Social Justice & Activism: bell hooks: The Will to Change

What can I say. Tumblr put it on my radar and I really need to read more theory anyway.

20. Romance Novel: [to be decided]

I’ll probably take a detour through the library’s romance section at some point and chose something that sounds at least a bit appealing. Rereading You Made a Fool of Death with your Beauty for the third time in as many years probably doesn’t count, does it?

21. Read and Make a Recipe: [to be decided]

22. Horror: [to be decided]

If anyone has recommendations, please do tell!

23. Published in the Aughts: Ellen Kushner: The Privilege of the Sword

Kushner’s Riverside series is a personal favourite (well, Swordspoint and Privilege of the Sword are, I never read Fall of the Kings and don’t plan to rn), and I’ve been meaning to reread this.

24. Historical Fiction: Laurent Binet: HHhH

Putting this here as a kind of placeholder, maybe. I’d like to reread it, I think, it’s about one of my longest standing special interests, and we talked about it in class recently, because it really gets into the question of methodology re: historical fiction/writing history/historiography/etc.

25. Bookseller or Librarian Recommendation: [to be decided]

I’ll wait with this until the next time I visit my parents and get a chance to duck into my favourite bookstore, or I’ll keep it for after the move and ask at a bookshop/the library there to build rapport with my new book dealers.

[cienie-isengardu]

Lucyfer z Siewcy Wiatru // Lucifer from Sower of the Wind

[anielska-propaganda]

już mi raz zrzucili, próbujemy dalej (jeśli ktoś chce bez cenzury to let me know a podeślę!)

[catgirlforeskin]

Looks like some sowers of wind are gonna reap a whirlwind today

[saltfield]

Cerebral Cohesion

Call for me where the air is clearer,

I can't breathe, it's so heavy here.

You're the phantom in my portraits,

A secret face behind the mirror.

.

I heard it once, your sower reaps,

But is a scythe for romantic fever...

Still a shovel, equally grave,

I'm a workman, not a believer.

.

Remember when we were together?

You were the wind in my hair, my breath.

Take me back to the elder forests,

Where the nymphs taught us secret paths.

Chase the devil, rewind tape decks,

I'm a record scratched without a song,

All for the air I thought I breathed,

Was an ocean made for drowning all.

.

Here I am, as here we're standing,

Our troupe of merry partisans.

Composed of olive drab fatigues,

Where once we stood on friendly lands.

.

Now, coughing, hacking, seizing breathless,

I reach to touch your face once more,

As my blood betrays my own complexion,

I see that I was never yours.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Commentary on the Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to St. Mark – Chapter 4

St. Mark, the disciple and interpreter of St. Peter (as noted by St. Jerome.) according to what he heard from St. Peter himself, wrote at Rome a brief Gospel at the request of the Brethren (fellow Christians), about ten years after our Lord's Ascension; which when St. Peter had heard, he approved of it, and with his authority he published it to the Church to be read. Baronius and others maintain, that the original was written in Latin: but the more general opinion is that the Evangelist wrote it in Greek.

First, Christ tells parables: first, about the sower; second (v. 21), about the lamp placed upon the lampstand; third (v. 26), about the seed; fourth (v. 31), about the mustard seed. Second (v. 37), while He is sleeping a storm arises at sea; awakened by His disciples, He commands the winds and the sea and calms the storm.

And again he began to teach by the sea side; and a great multitude was gathered together unto him, so that he went up into a ship, and sat in the sea; and all the multitude was upon the land by the sea side. 2 And he taught them many things in parables, and said unto them in his doctrine: 3 Hear ye: Behold, the sower went out to sow. 4 And whilst he sowed, some fell by the way side, and the birds of the air came and ate it up. 5 And other some fell upon stony ground, where it had not much earth; and it shot up immediately, because it had no depth of earth. 6 And when the sun was risen, it was scorched; and because it had no root, it withered away. 7 And some fell among thorns; and the thorns grew up, and choked it, and it yielded no fruit. 8 And some fell upon good ground; and brought forth fruit that grew up, and increased and yielded, one thirty, another sixty, and another a hundred. 9 And he said: He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. 10 And when he was alone, the twelve that were with him asked him the parable. 11 And he said to them: To you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God: but to them that are without, all things are done in parables: 12 That seeing they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may hear, and not understand: lest at any time they should be converted, and their sins should be forgiven them. 13 And he saith to them: Are you ignorant of this parable? And how shall you know all parables? 14 He that soweth, soweth the word. 15 And these are they by the way side, where the word is sown, and as soon as they have heard, immediately Satan cometh and taketh away the word that was sown in their hearts. 16 And these likewise are they that are sown on the stony ground: who when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with joy. 17 And they have no root in themselves, but are only for a time: and then when tribulation and persecution ariseth for the word they are presently scandalized. 18 And others there are who are sown among thorns: these are they that hear the word, 19 And the cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts after other things entering in choke the word, and it is made fruitless. 20 And these are they who are sown upon the good ground, who hear the word, and receive it, and yield fruit, the one thirty, another sixty, and another a hundred. 21 And he said to them: Doth a candle come in to be put under a bushel, or under a bed? And not to be set on a candlestick? 22 For there is nothing hid, which shall not be made manifest: neither was it made secret, but that it may come abroad. 23 If any man have ears to hear, let him hear. 24 And he said to them: Take heed what you hear. In what measure you shall mete, it shall be measured to you again, and more shall be given to you.

25 For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, that also which he hath shall be taken away from him. 26 And he said: So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the earth, 27 And should sleep, and rise, night and day, and the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not. 28 For the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit, first the blade, then the ear, afterwards the full corn in the ear. 29 And when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. 30 And he said: To what shall we liken the kingdom of God? Or to what parable shall we compare it? 31 It is as a grain of mustard seed: which when it is sown in the earth, is less than all the seeds that are in the earth: 32 And when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, so that the birds of the air may dwell under the shadow thereof. 33 And with many such parables, he spoke to them the word, according as they were able to hear. 34 And without parable he did not speak unto them; but apart, he explained all things to his disciples. 35 And he saith to them that day, when evening was come: Let us pass over to the other side. 36 And sending away the multitude, they take him even as he was in the ship: and there were other ships with him. 37 And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that the ship was filled. 38 And he was in the hinder part of the ship, sleeping upon a pillow; and they awake him, and say to him: Master, doth it not concern thee that we perish? 39 And rising up, he rebuked the wind, and said to the sea: Peace, be still. And the wind ceased: and there was made a great calm. 40 And he said to them: Why are you fearful? Have you not faith yet? And they feared exceedingly: and they said one to another: Who is this (thinkest thou) that both wind and sea obey him?

Commentary: Saint Mark - Chapter 4

Verse 10. And when he was alone. In Greek καταµόνας, the Vulgate, singularis, i.e., “solitary, by Himself”. The Arabic translates it “alone, away from the crowd”; Syriac, “when He was alone.” Thus the idea of alone and “separated from others” is expressed in Latin by the word singulus, derived from sine angulo, “without angle,” because things that are solitary and alone cannot constitute an angle. From the word singulus then comes singularis, meaning solitary and alone. Hence Cicero says (Academ. quaest. lib. 4), “I omit Aristotle, who in philosophy is almost singular [without peer].” Compare Cæsar(lib. 4 de Bello Gallico): “When they saw individuals [singulares] coming (alone) off the boat, they attacked those who were hindered by baggage on horses at full gallop.” Hence, too, the psalm verse, For thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope (Ps. 4:10).

The twelve that were with him (Jesus) asked him. The Greek, Syriac and Arabic have “with the “twelve,” meaning that the seventy disciples, who, with the twelve Apostles, were followers of Jesus, asked Him what was the meaning of the parable of the sower and the seed. Thus Euthymius.

Verse 21. Doth a candle come in (i.e., is it brought into a house or a room), to be put under a bushel or under a bed? That it should be hidden under a vessel? No! but that it should be set out in public, and give light to all. By this parable Christ signified that it was not His will that the mysteries of this parable and the other doctrines of the gospel should be concealed and hidden, but rather that His disciples should unfold them at the proper time, and communicate them to others who at that time were not yet able to receive them. It was His will that they should not keep them secret, but rather publish and preach them openly. Thus S. Jerome, S. Bede, and others, and this is plain from what follows.

Verse 22. For there is nothing hid, which shall not be made manifest (Latin,manifestetur, a categorical use of the subjunctive): neither was it made secret, but that it may come abroad. This is the Greek and Latin reading. “Although the doctrine of the gospel and My deeds and words are as yet hidden and secret, I do not wish them always to remain so. At the opportune time they must be openly proclaimed by you, O My disciples, and presented and preached to all.” So SS. Jerome and Bede. This is what Christ says in Matthew 10:27, That which I tell you in the dark, speak ye in the light: and that which you hear in the ear, preach ye upon the housetops.

Verse 24. And he said to them: take heed what you hear. The meaning, says Euthymius, is, “Attend to the things which ye hear of Me, that ye may understand them, and commit them to memory, that when the proper time shall arrive ye may put them into practice and communicate them to others.” And He gives the reason: “That none of My words may escape you,” says Theophylact. Hear Bede, “He teaches us carefully to hear His words, in such manner that we should carefully digest them in our hearts, and be able to bring them forth for the hearing of others.”

In what measure you shall mete, it shall be measured to you again, and more shall be given to you. Meaning: If you widely and abundantly communicate and preach My doctrine to others, I also will abundantly impart to you far more understanding and greater wisdom, grace and glory, as a recompense and reward to you. Thus fountains, the more they pour out above, the more they receive from below.” Therefore, let teachers, catechists, preachers, etc. learn from this saying and promise of Christ, that the more pains they bestow in teaching others, the more grace and wisdom they will receive from Christ themselves, according to the words, He who soweth sparingly shall also reap sparingly: and he who soweth in blessings, i.e., bountifully, shall also reap in blessings (2 Cor. 9:6). (See commentary.)

Verse 25. For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, that also which he hath shall be taken away from him. Hath, that is, “uses,” and shows that he hath by using. For such a one hath indeed, but he who useth not a gift or grace hath it but in name only. This is what theologians say, that he who uses his grace hath it in a second act; but he who uses it not hath it only in the first act, that is, in power and possession. (See commentary on Matth. 13:12 and Matth. 25:29.) The meaning, therefore, is, to him who uses learning given him by God, by study or by imparting it to others, an increase of learning shall be given; but from him who uses not his learning, shall God take it away, as something idle and useless. For Christ here is urging the Apostles to preach the gospel diligently and fervently, promising them, if they do so, a greater influx of His wisdom and grace.

Verse 26. And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the earth. This is another parable, different from that of the sower, which precedes it (v. 3). Both, however, are derived from seed, but differently applied and explained. Moreover, by the seed, as S. Chrysostom, S. Bede and the Scholiast in Jerome’s works rightly explain, both here and in chapter 13 of Matthew, is signified evangelical doctrine; by the field, hearers; by the harvest is meant the end of the world or each one’s death.

Verse 27. And should sleep (that is to say, the man who sowed), and rise, night and day, and the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not. Some refer the words rise night and day to the seed, so that Christ, by way of explanation, would go on to say and (they understand the word and here to be διηγητικὸν [having a narrative sense], explaining what went before; they think that it can be taken to mean “that is”), the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not, “he,” meaning the sleeping man.

According to this reading, the seed cast upon the ground by the farmer sprouts and grows continuously, night and day, and even while the farmer is not thinking about it, but is resting and sleeping. Thus Bede, the Scholiast in S. Jerome and the Gloss.

More obviously, S. Chrysostom, Theophylact, Euthymius, Maldonatus, Franz Lucas, and others refer the words, rise, night and day, to the sower, and not to the seed, so that night pertains to the word sleep, day to the word rise. According to this interpretation: As the farmer who has sowed is sleeping idly in the night and, having risen, is employed in various occupations during the day, and thinks not about the seed and the field, nevertheless that seed is germinating by its own innate force, and is growing up whilst the husbandman knoweth it not. So also it puts forth first the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear. So it is likewise with the doctrine and preaching of the gospel. They were sown by Christ and His Apostles, that is, they were preached from small beginnings. But continuously, by degrees, they grew insensibly into the mature and mighty harvests of the faithful, while Christ was, as it were, unaware and sleeping in heaven, in that He permits the Jews and unbelieving nations and tyrants to rise up against His Apostles and the gospel, and persecute and kill them. It increases, I say, and propagates itself gradually, until it fills the world, when, the harvest being ripe, the corn, that is, the elect, shall be gathered into the granary of heaven, which shall take place at the end of the world on the day of judgment.

By this parable, then, is signified the power of the gospel, which by degrees has pervaded the whole world, and is converting it to itself and to Christ. Tacitly, also, it signifies that apostles and preachers of the gospel must not glory in their preaching, as though they were converting the world by it. For, as the Apostle saith, “Neither he that planteth is anything, nor he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase (1 Cor. 3:7). On the other hand, Christ intimates that preachers ought not to be downcast if they see small and tardy fruits of their preaching, because God will, by the few converted by them, gradually convert many more. So S. James, by means of seven, or, as some say, by nine, whom he converted to Christianity in Spain, converted the whole country.

Verse 28. For the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit; first the blade, then the ear, afterward the full corn in the ear. Arabic, Because the earth alone bringeth forth fruit, first the blade, and after that the ear; then the ear is filled, and when the fruit is perfect, then the sickle is applied, because it is harvest.” So likewise, by the preaching of the gospel, the Faith of Christ and His Church grew by various degrees of increase—grew, I say, both in virtues and also in its propagation throughout all regions.

Morally, expositors adapt these three expressions, blade, ear, full corn, to a three-fold increment of virtues and merits. For the earth of our heart germinates, firstly, the blade, when it conceives and begins good desires and good works within it; secondly, the ear, when it proceeds to earnest working; thirdly, the grain, when it brings its works and virtues and merits to full maturity and perfection. Thus Theophylact says, “The blade is the beginning of good; the ear is when we resist temptations; the fruit is perfect work.”

Listen to S. Gregory (hom. 15 in Ezech. and lib. 22 Moral. cap. 14), “To produce the blade is to hold the first tender beginning of good. The blade develops an ear when virtue conceived in the mind leads to proficiency in good works. The full corn fructifies in the ear when virtue becomes so proficient that it is capable of strong and perfect work.” Therefore, it is not enough for salvation, says Victor of Antioch, that we “put forth leaves by obedience, but [we must] also learn a manly fortitude and, like the stalks of corn, remain upright without minding the winds which blow us about. We must also take heed to our soul by a diligent recollection, that, like the ears, we may bear fruit, that is, show forth the perfect operation of virtue.” Christ here intimates that the Apostles, and those who work for the conversion of souls, ought to await with long-suffering the fruit and harvest of their labors, as farmers do. They ought to cherish those who are tender in the faith, and gradually lead them on to the height of virtue by teaching, admonishing and exercising them. “Let no one, therefore,” says Bede, “who is regarded as being of good purpose in the tenderness of his mind, be despised, because the fruit takes its rise from the blade, and becomes corn. Symbolically, the Scholiast in S. Chrysostom says, “The blade was in the law of nature, the ear in the law of Moses, the fruit in the gospel.”

Verse 29. And when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle. In Greek ὅταν δὲ παραδῷ ὁ καρπὸς, that is, “when indeed the fruit has brought itself forth” or when the fruit shall be produced; for fruit is here in the nominative case. Hence some translate, “when the fruit shall have come forth.” Euthymius: “when it has matured.” The Syriac has, “when it has become fat”; Arabic, “when it is perfect.” This is a Hebraism, for in Hebrew, verbs in the conjugation Hitpael have a passive meaning, or a reflex action, by which the agent receives the action in himself, so that the agent is the same as the recipient of the action. Hence some codices read, “when the fruit has produced itself.” Maldonatus explains it differently, “When the fruit, that is, the seed itself, which was the fruit of former seed, shall have brought forth, that is to say, other seed from itself.”

Verse 33. And with many such parables He spoke to them the word, according as they were able to hear. That is, insofar as they were worthy to hear, as Maldonatus says, citing Bede, Euthymius and Clement of Alexandria (lib. 1 Strom.). According to this reading, Christ spoke clearly, without parables, to the Apostles, who wanted to understand and believe, so that they might understand more and more; but to the scribes and the Jews who did not want to believe and understand, He spoke somewhat obscurely and parabolically, so that, even if they wanted, they nevertheless could not understand. More simply and plainly, Theophylact and Franz Lucas (in loco), as well as S. Chrysostom (in Matth. hom. 45) explain that Christ spoke with such, i.e., common and easy parables, which all could understand, not with abstruse examples unknown to the crowd; so that they might take in their substance, and perceive that there was something heavenly and divine lying beneath the surface, although they did not comprehend each particular. Nevertheless, by what was known of the parable they were inspired and encouraged by Christ to investigate and search out the unknown thing that lay hidden beneath it.

Verse 36. Even as he was in the ship. Meaning: The disciples took up Christ upon the deep sea, that they might cross over it with Him; Christ, I say, as He was in the ship, namely, sitting and teaching the people standing on the shore. This is plain from verse 1, for afterward (v. 38) it appears that He changed His position, sleeping in the ship. It marks the ready obedience of the disciples, and in turn Christ’s easy accommodation of Himself to their promptitude, so as to avoid the tumult of the thronging multitude. Franz Lucas interprets somewhat differently: Even as he was in the ship, he says, means “before anyone got off the ship where He was.” Hence the Syriac translates “when he was in the ship,” and the Arabic, “they took him aboard the ship.”

And there were other ships with him. It happened by the counsel of God that the many persons who were carried in those ships should be spectators and witnesses of the miracle very shortly to be wrought by Christ, namely, the calming of the tempest.

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[endlessnightlock]

Has anyone else sent in 6 “pearl” for the numbers thing?

Thank you, anon. For some reason, this is the direction my imagination went with the word "pearl."

When I was a little boy, long before it was commonly known that sometimes the wolves in sheep’s clothing were, in fact, hiding behind the Good Shepherd, my mom and dad got on a religious kick. This meant that after weeks of persistent visits, it was decided that my brothers and I would ride the church bus to The Son's Glory Congregation with Ms. Trinkett, keeping us in line and Mr. Abernathy behind the wheel while they slept in till noon. Free babysitting with a dose of the Good Book learning for added measure.

For three solid years, my brothers and I rode the church bus down Panem County's winding back roads each and every Sunday morning, save a few weekends in January or February, the worst months of the year around our parts, when the church bus would have just as soon slid clear off the mountainside with one ill-timed tap of the brakes.

Don't get me wrong. The congregation of The Son's Glory Congregation were fine people. Kind, want to fuss over us bus kids, sure to bring lots of treats to the monthly potlucks we stayed for after morning services. Even Pastor Boggs, while a little wild-eyed preaching his hell-fire and damnation services, was an alright guy away from the pulpit. Most of the messages went over my head, but some stuck. The parables Jesus told in the New Testament. The sower. The prodigal son.

The pearl of great price. The story of a man who discovered an invaluable pearl buried in a field. He gave up everything he had to make that pearl his, to love and cherish it.

On those church bus rides, I found a fiery little daughter of a coal miner who wore her hair in two long braids and sang in services with a voice that left every old timer near to crying. A girl who somehow thought I was worth sacrificing for. I haven't set foot in The Son's Glory Congregation for years and years now, but I did find my pearl of great value and she's enough for me.