#the Mystical city of God

[stjohncapistrano67]

A renaissance era Catholic religious art image of Blessed Maria of Agreda or Maria of Jesus, the author of the book: The Mystical City of God. I don't know who the artist is.

[assassin1513]

🔻🔺🖤Hades🖤🔺🔻

[lwiann]

Still so baffling to me how you cant completely ally with gortash as durge with all that history. For a game that lets you do some truly heinous things.

[rhynehoward]

©️ stephen gosling

[glowingplant]

so if i wanted to get gold firecracker adventure on my f2p account (still EU) would anyone be willing to drive me around in a siege turtle to help me get it

[tornado1992]

No one knows where Sonic lives.

Even in his so called world renowed hero status, there’s way too little that the general public knows about Sonic The Hedgehog, sure, they know what his favorite food is, they know the names of his friends, and they know when his birthday is, but they don’t know where is he from, how is he so fast, or what is his reason to fight.

They know about most of the times he has saved the world, but they don’t know why his shoes don’t get burned by his speed, they know he can turn into a god-like glowy golden being, but they don’t know how exactly the magical jewels that do that work, they know he’s unstoppable, but they don’t know why.

Most people don’t care that much about that kind of information, even if he’s a hero, that’s his own business, even heroes need privacy; but then there’s the curiosity, the enigma, the mystery, most of those questions will be left without a solid answer, but there’s a few that should have definitive one.

Where does someone who can run around the whole globe in a matter of hours live? There’s a lot of theories.

Sonic has enough fame to have several fan clubs all around the world, and between all those fan clubs there’s been a lingering interest in the enigma of where does sonic live, between all the other questions this one is the one that gets the most possible answers, considering factors like his speed, his well known crave for adventure, his love for nature, all of it could make the difference between the right answer and the wrong answer.

At certain point, the curiosity reaches to more general public apart from the fanatism prone, and when in opportunity to talk to him, a lot of people start asking him the same question: “where do you live?” the answers all equal and all different at the same time “right here in the same world as you” “it varies from time to time” “I don’t think you could visit me”

The vagueness, the confusing contradictions, the evasion of the subject; he’s doing this on purpose. They might not know a lot about the blue speedster, but now this sole data needs to be known.

They start asking Sonic’s acquaintances instead of the hedgehog himself, they know they’re not getting an answer out of him at this point, and if anyone could have one, his friends should know it. Turns out that they don’t know.

Most of his friends being more annoyed with the fact that not even they know where he lives than about the people sticking their noses to his friend’s business was a surprise to the masses, and underwhelming, backtracking, frustrating surprise.

There’s an anonymous user online who affirms that not even the hedgehog’s arch nemesis knows where Sonic lives. Reliable sources support the statement.

The waters of nonsense gossip calm down after some time, but the question still remains, left to be more of general curiosity than lingering mystery.

A random day in a random town, a news program happens to be live outside when the speedster passes by and stops to smell the flowers around the area, the reporters ask him for a small interview, he says they have till he finishes picking up enough flowers for a crown.

They ask the same question everyone has asked for quite some time, just a different word, “Sonic, where is your home?”

Apparently the accidental rephrasing change is what finally gets it, as the speedster just says “right now? should be at mystic ruins”

He runs off immediately, the reporters left speechless, the program still on air on TV’s and the web, and the world going wild.

They finally got a straight, solid, specific answer. “That can’t be true” “but it can” “it’s logical” “it’s not” “he must’ve been joking” “he sounded serious” and more and more discussions take place around that single interview, the fan clubs are theorizing again, the general public is now more curious, and the official news from all over the globe need to confirm this by themselves.

So they ask again.

A full week later, a different city in a different country, different news reporters don’t even bother to ask him for an interview, they just run to him the moment they see the blue blur pass by and ask him again “Sonic, where is your home?!” He yells his answer without stopping:

“Last time I checked was in Central City”.

“It’s a contradiction” “then he was joking before” “he might change where he lives weekly” “we need more proof” “that was way too specific again”.

A different continent, two days later, a group of kids manage to record him when he greets them from the other side of a mountain, they ask “Where is your home?!” He yells back “I’m not sure at the moment!”

The confusion only grows, now no one knows if he’s genuinely giving true answers or full ass lying, it would be logical for him to do either. The curiosity becomes a mystery again, and people are legitimately trying to track all the locations he has mentioned to find out what is this all about. Some people even try to track him down. They try.

A whole month later, there’s a celebration near sunset city, a commemoration of some sorts, there’s been a lot of battles in way too little time so people just try to think about the party rather than the motive for it. Sonic attends the celebration along some of his friends.

A local news channel manages to reach him at the chili dog stand where he is waiting for his food while talking to the two tailed fox everyone knows is his best friend. They don’t mean to interrupt, but these opportunities are limited.

They ask the same question, the same word change that they know works: “Sonic, where is your home?”

The blue blur hangs an arm around the kit’s shoulder in a half hug as he grins widely, he says loudly: “right now, it’s right here!”

This time his home was with him.

[utterlyazriel]

love will unravel me (so please keep your hands held tight)

sorry if ur seeing this twice !! i am a finicky gal and was tooo sad it didn't appear in the tags so forgive me for the repost <3 it's good ol' hurt/comfort

It's unnerving.

To know something is somehow... wrong and yet, not be able to put your finger on it. Something being off.

There had been something off since your return from the Illyrian Mountains. Like a scar you hadn't ever remembered getting, like a lump in your bed that hadn't been there before.

You had returned to the Night Court only the night before, far later than expected. It had been near twilight, yourself kept late in the war-camps dealing with the unpleasant likes of Lord Devlon. All you wanted to do was to crawl into your waiting bed.

But your bed wasn't empty.

The perfect shape of your mate, tucked beneath the blankets, is one you could recognize in the dark. Even then, you had felt the strange difference — a tickle along the nape of your neck, enough to make you shiver.

Drained of your energy, you carelessly ignore it. Chalk it up to the bad feeling you got every time you went back to those gods forsaken war-camps.

Beyond their terrible ways and nearly tyrannical leaders, your own mate's history there was enough to make you want to burn it to the ground. To scorch and salt the Earth so nothing could grow there for a hundred years as proof of the pain.

So, feeling weary, you crawl into your bed. Your eyes find Azriel sleeping beside you, silent as always, and you trace the delicate features of his face in the dark. Even in his sleep, his shadows, lazy and slow, greet you as a slumber begins to wash over you. The lull of dreams comes quick.

As does morning. But come morning, Azriel isn't there.

Not the most unexpected thing; there were early morning trainings frequently enough. However, Azriel loathed each time you were sent to monitor over those war-camps. He bristled silently each time you left and rejoiced in that quiet, tender way he did best when you came back home to him. A mission in Illyria usually guaranteed a morning in bed with your lover.

Today, the sheets are cold.

You frown as you push yourself up, the sheets pooling at your waist. Faintly, at the back of your neck, you feel it once again. The tickle. Frown deepening, you reached your hand up to scratch at the back of your neck absentmindedly. Your eyes fall on the door.

Like a mystical tug, you feel compelled to search for the Shadowsinger — slipping out of bed silently, the tiled floor is warm from the morning sun beneath your feet. You pull the door open an inch, wondering just where your mate has ambled off to this morning.

As you step through the door, drawn by your mysterious compulsion, you don't turn back to check behind you.

And even if you had, your eyes would glaze over the large Illyrian, still bundled up in your sheets, turning over in his sleep.

—

You find Azriel out on the balcony, not in training as you had suspected.

He's facing out towards the city, his hands braced on the marble, his strong wings held proudly behind him. Interestingly, his shadows have forgone him this morning. Not one of them is in sight. You sidle up to him, feeling more yourself already just seeing him.

"Abandoning me in bed this morning?" You begin, playfully. You reach out to loop a hand through his arm. "I thought you had promised me—"

Your words come to an abrupt halt as Azriel shifts before you can touch him, his arm pulled out of reach.

In fact, as he notices your presence and turns to you, he takes an entire step backward. His handsome face screws up, a frown set on his brow.

"Don't." He says severely.

Your chest pangs with hurt. Your eyebrows crowd together in your confusion, concern beginning to melt into your blood.

"Az?" You say tentatively. You want to step closer to him, to cradle his face in your hands like you do whenever he has that crushed expression on — but a greater part of you fears he may retreat from you again.

"Don't call me that." He say, voice lower. His head dips, turned away from you to hide his face. Your concern swells, a thousand alarms ringing inside your mind. The back of your neck tickles again.

"Azriel," You try again desperately, fighting to keep your voice even. "What happened? What's going on?"

Confusion paints every thought in your mind as it whirls and searches, hunting desperately for the cause of your mate's sudden iciness. Was it something you had done? Was it taking another mission to a place you knew he so despised you going to?

The Fae before you doesn't say a word.

"Azriel," His name comes out a plea, unable to help yourself. It only scratches deeper into your soul when he maneuvers again, quicker than you, purposefully evading your touch.

"Stop." He instructs, the word nearly a growl. His voice is alike to the bark he uses for talking down to unruly war-camp Lords. It's nothing like the soft, sweet tone you're so accustomed to. It makes his words sting even more. "Your touch disgusts me."

You reel back at his words, a sharp inhale shooting to your lungs. What? You could feel your mouth opening and closing, no words coming to fruition. Behind your eyes, you can feel the itch beginning. You will your tears away, confusion still the dominant emotion swirling inside.

"I—" You stammer. "I don't understand."

Azriel snorts, unamused. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, looking more intimidating than usual as he draws to his full height. He keeps his eyes on the ground but the expression on his face looks... bored.

"I've had a revelation."

Another ache resounds through your chest. Why is he being so cryptic? Since when... had disgust been something Azriel had ever associated with you? You shiver at the prickle that rolls down your neck. It's as though you had gone to bed and your mate had been switched in the night.

"Az, you're scaring—"

"Stop calling me that." He snarls, interrupting you. You jolt in surprise, your feet taking a step back. With the way he's leering over you, a hint of anger —anger you've never seen directed at you before— creeping into his face, something akin to fear grows within you.

Azriel is stronger than you and far more deadly. A fact that usually provides comfort, for the first time, only grows your unease.

"Don't you want to hear my revelation?" He asks, his growl barely reined in. He smiles down at you but it's not soft in the way you know. It's cruel.

You take a step back. Something is wrong— terribly, entirely and utterly wrong with the love of your life. Panic begins to bubble up, like waters rising in a sinking ship.

You need to find someone else. You need Cassian, need Rhys, need anyone else here to help because you are the worst person to help. Every word he says cuts deep to bone. You can feel your heart bleeding within your chest.

It has to be a trick.

That was all you could think. Your mind was stumbling over the sentence over and over, almost delirious in how it clung to the thought tightly. It must, it must —you hoped it was. Begged it to be.

You take another step back, ready to dash through the house and call for help — but Azriel takes another step toward you. Your fear spikes, looking up his snarled face, the power within him radiating off in waves.

"I came to realise that I don't—"

"—y/n?"

A voice cuts in. There's someone else on the balcony with you. Thank the Mother, you think to yourself, whipping around to find Cassian in the doorway. He's got a furrow in his brown, concern written all over his expression.

"Cassian," You breath his name in a sigh of relief. You step back again, hyper aware of how Azriel seems to take the exact same amount of steps as you, following you to the door. Your panic flares away, your breaths coming fast and short.

"Cassian, thank gods—" You begin.

"What's happening?" He interrupts urgently. His eyes are on you alone, never flickering across to Azriel out on the balcony. "Why are you— did you have another nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" You repeat, eyes wide as you stare at him in concerned bewilderment.

You're about to point out the very large intimidating Male staring you both down when Azriel speaks again.

"I said," He drawls out the word and your head snaps back to look at him. You fail to notice that Cassian doesn't even turn at all.

"I've had a revelation, my dear."

It all sounds so terribly sarcastic, such a far cry from your stoic, sincere mate. You cringe, already feeling how his next words will be made cut you down.

"I don't want you anymore."

"—what can you see?—" Cassian's voice speaks from beside you, fuzzy and out of focus. You stare at Azriel, your heart beginning to hum and fizzle, a thousand fissures breaking upon the surface.

An anguish so deep in your bones rattles through your body — and across the House of Wind, your real mate wakes up with a gasp at the feel of it.

"What?" You croak, unable to tear your eyes away from Azriel.

You can feel Cassian's hands on your shoulder, shaking you, but you can't— you won't look away. Something deep within you compels you to watch him break your heart and shred your soul. The back of your neck singes with heat.

"—What is it you're seeing?!—" Cassian's voice dips in and out. His hand sweeps your hair back, looking for any ailments causing this. He finds it in an instant. "Holy Cauldron, your neck. Oh, that's so not good. Rhys!"

He bellows for the Highlord right as Azriel, the real Azriel, bursts in through the door — following the taut agonizing pain in his chest, that connects you two together. His eyes snag on you and Cassian, out on the balcony, and his brother turns to him but you do not.

"Azriel," Cassian warns. "It's a Vesania Sigil."

Azriel pays him no heed, even as the words echo through him with a darkened dread. His stomach turns, bile threatening.

A Vesania Sigil— his knees nearly threaten to buckle beneath him.

A Vesania Sigil is a sinister curse, placed on people to drive them to the brink of insanity, minds scrambled to exhaustion.

In all the times Azriel has seen them in his long lifetime... they have all been on dead Fae, driven to the point of taking their own life. His shadows burst into a frenzied storm.

Your eyes are fixed somewhere out of the balcony, a glaze to them that tells Azriel you're seeing something different than he can. Softly, as gently as he can, he strides out and Cassian steps back to let him. Azriel steps down onto the balcony beside you, slowly, delicately reaching out to touch you.

You startle, head snapping around to see who's touched you. Except when you drag your gaze up and meet his face, you flinch hard. Azriel feels misery twist deep into his heart, some buried fear within him coming true before his eyes.

You take a step back, stumbling as you do. Then your head turns back out to the balcony—then back to him, back and forth.

"W—What?" You stammer out.

It takes Azriel only one second to realise why, and to feel the agony as he does; you're seeing double.

When you had said he's everything to you, you had truly meant it. He is both your greatest love and... your greatest fear.

Azriel can feel Rhys' arrival somewhere behind him, can even hear Cassian's concerned voice filling him in but his entire focus is locked onto you. You've stumbled back again, falling painfully on your backside, barely catching yourself on your hands but something— someone on the balcony keeps frightening you.

Something in Azriel screams; how can he fight an enemy he cannot see or touch?

He's on his knees before you in an instant. You're beginning to tremble, silent tears on your cheeks and Azriel's heart wails as you look upon him with a face for a fear. He can't tell what you're seeing but he just needs you to see him.

"My love," He says, voice quiet as to not spook you. You whimper at his words and something shrivels up inside Azriel's chest. He continues, noting how your eyes flick rapidly between his face and something over his shoulder. You shuffle back, too hesitant to trust him.

"My love, my moon," He murmurs, gently reaching out for you. His shadows zip forward, soothing along your skin. You flinch back again but Azriel holds strong, nudging forward until he's touching your skin.

You wince and screw your eyes closed and Azriel can feel the fear, the tormented pain that pours down the bond. He can see it now, this close, the seal that's burning against the skin of your neck. A fiercely protectiveness anger burns in his gut and he vows to tear apart whoever did this to you, limb by limb.

"I don't know what you can see," He say, soft as he can. He lifts his other hand and cradles the other side of your face. Your eyes peek open. "But it's not true. None of it."

Your lips are quivering, lashes sparkling with how they catch your tears. Azriel feels sick to his stomach again; he could do a thousand battles with countless weapons but this is something he's entirely powerless against.

"Azriel," Rhys speaks up from behind, voice cautious. Azriel ignores him, his thumbs stroking softly over your face.

"It's not real." He says with more urgency. Your eyes dart over his shoulder again and a whimper slips out your throat, your body tensing. Real, raw pain scratches it's way down the bond.

"Azriel, I can get it off her." Rhys voice again. "You just need to keep her still."

Azriel nods, but doesn't turn, doesn't take his eyes off you for a single moment. His heart squeezes and cracks, a thousand shards littered through his ribcage when you finally speak. Your glassy eyes have lost a little of their glaze, fixed on your mate in front of you with a desperate plea.

"He—" You begin, sucking in a harsh breath. Your breathing is too fast, your heartbeat too. "It- it fucking—it looks just like you."

"It's not." Azriel assures in an instant. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours, trying to be the picture of calm for you even as his heart warbles in agony at your pain. "It's not me."

Your eyes shift over his shoulder again and Azriel moves this time, blocking your view. "Don't. Keep your eyes on me. Look at me."

Silently, Rhys kneels at your side, his violet eyes blazing where they’re fixed on your neck. Undoubtedly, this was not such a personal attack but something to harm the inner circle. As darkness begins to swirl from Rhys' fingers, orbiting the sigil, you begin crying again, fresh tears spilling down your chests as little gasps wrack your frame.

"It—" You gasp, suddenly focusing desperately on Azriel now that you know who's who. "It— gods, it sounds so much like you."

"It might, but it isn't me." Azriel promises. He aches when your hands suddenly shoot up, eyes screwed shut as you clamp your hands down over your ears — like whatever you could hear was causing you physical pain. Rhys mutters something under his breath, his hands still working.

"Eyes on me.” Azriel urges, knowing you can hear him. You whimper and pitch forward, forehead bowing to your knees. His hands fall away as your head begins to give tiny shakes, side to side. His shadows swarm your shoulders, unsure how to help.

“Don’t—“ For the first time, Azriel’s voice falters with a wobble. He tries not to think of the countless warriors who have fallen beneath a sigil this strong and mentally roars at Rhys to move faster. “Listen to me, my love. Listen, listen to my voice, please.”

Your breathes are ragged, staggering inhales as you press your head between your knees. You entire body shakes and Azriel dares to steal a glimpse at the back of your neck — the intricate rune imprinted on your skin shimmering black as it slowly seals.

"Keep," Rhys grits out, his concentration still focused on his power. "her still."

Azriel's hands dart out, already apologising at how he has to force your head out of hiding. You gasp and sob, pulling back to resist but Azriel holds tight, his hands holding your face as tenderly as he can.

He pushes forward, crowding in, until his forehead rests against yours. He summons everything he can within himself, every ounce of devotion he holds for you and send its down the thread in his chest til everything burns white hot.

"Look at me, my love. Show me your eyes. Listen to my voice." Once the silent stoic type, Azriel lets everything that comes to mind fall out his mouth.

Your eyes crease open, flush with tears, and you shudder against him but Azriel feels it. The push back. The press of your skin against his, trying to get closer, trying to get to safety. Rhys curses for a moment, his dark magic still swirling and Azriel resists every urge to howl at him to hurry.

"Tellmetellmetellmetellme," You chant in a whisper, half delirious. You're flicking between his hazel eyes, your hands still half over your ears, body still wracked with quivers.

Tell me. Azriel's soul feels marred at the reveal of what is taunting you and he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, drawing your attention to him.

"I love you," He says, voice sounding close to wrecked. "I love you and you're mine. I'm yours and you're mine."

You shudder violently, eyes crushing closed, right as Rhys pulls away with an exhausted sigh. It's gone. Azriel hears Rhys' voice in his mind but it's not even needed — not with the way you suddenly slump forward into him, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"It's okay, it's gone," Azriel murmurs lowly, gathering you up in his arms as much as he can. He can feel your body shaking against him, sobs still forcing their way up your throat. His wings wrap around you, an inky cocoon of safety, sealing you off from the world.

"It's gone," He repeats, his arms circling around you. He can feel the pitter-patter of your rabbiting heart, feel the remains of fear that hang around your system. Every cell in his body yearns at this injustice, the fabric of the mating bond sending his protectiveness into overdrive. But more than the urge to hunt and maim whoever harmed you is the overwhelming need to make sure you're safe.

"You're safe now, I swear. It wasn't real." His assurances continue softly, his body instinctively beginning a slow rock to soothe you. You sobs slow to cries, your hands twisted tightly into his sleep-shirt. "I love you. I love you."

By the time your breathing evens out and your hiccuping cries slow, it's some time later. Your face has been buried in Azriel's chest and when you finally dig it out, Azriel's heart disintegrates once more at your blotty skin, your tired eyes.

You don't even have to ask.

"Vesania Sigil." He says quietly, hazel eyes burning into your face.

You can feel his writhing worry through the bond, like a caged tiger, fiery hot and licking at your heels. You give a little sniffle. Open your mouth to speak and find not one word in your throat.

Azriel's moving deftly before you can think, his strong arm looping beneath your knees to scoop up you against his chest. You let yourself be coddled, thankful to the way he curls himself around you entirely, wings hiding your view — only a flash on the ceiling to be seen. You're not sure you can face the others just yet.

The door your bedroom opens as he nears and Azriel kneels on the edge of the bed, his strong thighs maneuvering you both up til he's rested up against the headboard. Pure exhaustion like nothing you've felt before creeps up from within you.

Yet even so, you feel your heart twinge. It's been chafed raw today. Your hands slither and squirm, til they're wrapped tight around Azriel's middle and he hums protectively, his wing draping over you like a blanket.

For a moment, there is only weary, tired silence.

"Tell me?" You ask in a whisper, your voice so, so small. Azriel aches at the pain in your voice, sending every assurance down the golden thread between you.

"You're mine," He says, voice hushed and yet doused in his love.

"I'm yours." You echo, voice a little stronger than before. He can feel the way you tug on the bond, as if checking its still secure— still unbreakable. "And you're mine?"

Azriel folds himself even closer and tugs back on the bond strongly. His scarred hand glides up to bury itself in your hair, massaging slow and sweet. His nose nuzzles in against your hairline, his lips pressing a kiss wherever they find skin.

"And I'm yours." He agrees.

[iwassupremacy]

You asked for it: Aemond Targaryen from HOTD fucking you on the beach, the only thing between you and the city being Vhagar, and Aemond having an implied dragon kink. (As in, doing the tango either on a dragon, or within sight of a dragon, or while riding a dragon.)

Absolutely LOVED the idea!!! I really really hope the wait was worth it lol… I really enjoyed writing this!

You never imagined it to be this…exciting.

You were laying on your back on the sand and it quite literally got everywhere. But you couldn’t care less with Aemond being on top of you, his cock stretching you deliciously.

“My love~ hah” you whispered in his ear. He kept staring in the far distance while rhythmically fucking you, not paying any attention to your quivering figure.

“Aemond~ please” you tried again, this time louder, moaning in the process and pulling at his longe hair.

“Husband~ please look at me~ oh goods” suddenly he moved back, harshly turning you around. “Look at her.” He growled in your ear.

That’s when you saw her. Vhagar staring down at you. She was so far away you were sure she couldn’t see you due to her age, but even though there was an extreme distance between her and you, you could still see her very clearly.

“Gorgeous, right? Your cunt keeps clenching me so tight now I almost think you get pleasure from her watching us.”

You were a whimpering mess by now, your juices covering your thighs, and your husbands cock and even pelvis, giving the sand the perfect opportunity to stick to you.

He was fucking you from behind now, harsch, fast and ruthless. His hand in your hair, pulling your head up, making your scull burn.

“Do not dare to look away, wife.” Aemond whispered right in your ear, his voice hoarse and breath hitting your face.

He himself was torn between looking at his dragon and the recoil of your ass every time he buried his cock deep inside of your cunt.

“Aemond~ Aemond~” you kept blabbering and calling his name. You were moaning and your eyes were hooded, sometimes rolling in the back of your head from all the pleasure, but you still couldn’t stop looking at the mystical creature in your sight

Vhagar was huge. She was so far away, it shouldn’t be physically possible to still see her so clearly m. But you did.

With all your strength you pushed your upper body up to look behind you, spotting your husband in awe.

That’s when his eye hit you, eyebrows furrowed. “Hah~ next time I shall take you right next to her.”

Your cunt gushed at his words, your imagination running wild. Vhagar was obviously big enough for two to ride.

So you voiced your thoughts with shaking breath. “Perhaps~ next time you shall have me~ gods be g- good” you were interrupted by your own moan coming from your husband’s fingers circling your pearl.

“As I was saying~ p-perhaps next time you shall have me~ mhm~ right on top of her. R-riding in the open air.”

From there on it all came crushing down quite hard and fast. Aemond growled at the thought of that, his hips stuttering but never stopping l, such as his fast rubbing hand, making the two of you cum just minutes later.

“F-fuuck! Got me right there.” He chuckled. You were laying on your back again now, looking at him through love sick eyes.

“I am ready for round two, are you?”

[spindrifters]

my nana died yesterday. she was 94, and beautiful. the boys at her university used to call her champagne. she was a leo. an actress. a youth counselor. a labor union organizer. a mystic. very much the main event. she got to live a long and fantastic life, and I will miss her so, so much.

but I want to talk about something.

my nana had a difficult relationship with jews. not her own judaism. other american jews.

she was sephardi in ashkenormative america to begin with, already had serious beef to start. the ashki temple in her city refused to bury her father in the only jewish graveyard because he wasn't a member. she was a microminority within a minority that had no grace at the time for her.

it didn't help that she was born in the 1920s and watched over the course of the 20th century and the aftermath of the horrors of the shoah as zionism went from an unpopular fringe movement to something that took over and corrupted the establishment of her faith. my nana was a staunch and vocal antizionist, like her parents before her.

it isn't lost on me, the irony of her maiden name.

israel.

something that long predates the establishment of the settler colonial state in palestine. it was never meant to be what it's become. did you know that jews didn't used to have last names? we had patronyms. christians forced us to take their idea of surnames around the 17th century. most ashkenazim picked their trades. gold or silver or cohen. for sephardim, it was popular to go with where they lived at the time or where they had once had roots. mitrani and lousada and taranto. maybe it was so they could find each other in the diaspora.

but my ancestors took it a step further. they chose to go with israel. the name of that diaspora. the unifying tribal name, that needs no physical land to identify itself. it means one who wrestles with god. it was something beautiful, once. like my nana. for her sake, I hope one day it could be again.

may her memory be a revolution.

[stjohncapistrano67]

The importance of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the Her Son's Salvific Plan. The Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The fifth Glorious Mystery of the Most Holy Rosary. Renaissance Catholic religious art. Resources: 1. St. Louis de Montfort's books; 1. The Secret of the Rosary. 2. The Secret of Mary 3. True Devotion to Mary. St. John Eudes's; The Admirable Heart of Mary. 3. St. Alphonsus Liguori's; The Glories of Mary; and Venerable Mary of Agreda's; The Mystical City of God.

[evermore-grimoire]

The Evermore Grimoire: Greek Mythology

Hecate (Ἑκάτη meaning ‘Worker from Afar’) was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts and necromancy in Greek mythology. She was the only child of the Titanes Perses (god of destruction) and Asteria (goddess of shooting stars) from whom she received her power over heaven, earth, and the sea. Hecate assisted Demeter (goddess of the grain) in her search for her daughter Persephone (goddess of spring), by guiding her through the night with flaming torches. After the mother-daughter reunion she became Persephone's minister and companion in Hades (the Underworld). Hecate was associated with the cypress tree which symbolised the Underworld and death in the old myths. She was also the goddess of borders and doorways, both physical and mystical. Dogs were also sacred to her, and thus she was associated with protection. When Phillip of Macedon besieged Byzantium, the Byzantines heard dogs in the street barking at the approach of his army. The Byzantines and Athenians defended the city successfully and such success was attributed to Hecate. In gratitude, the Byzantines erected a statue of the goddess.

artwork by IrenHorrors

[sea-buns]

Oh my god, the parallels that we are walking into the Bells Hells reunion with.

Team Wildemount went shopping. They formed close bonds to each other. They saved an ancient mystical creature and an entire city with the power of friendship and kindness and mercy. They all survived. They’re all committed to seeing this fight through. The people of this group who started a threesome and a robomance have no middle ground in that venn diagram. They are a literal pyramid built out of love and trust.

Team Issylra clothed themselves in the remains of a betrayal. They destroyed a temple of the gods. They saved a town through death and violence. No two people walked out of that fight feeling the same about its outcome. They had stressful debates questioning what could possibly be worth all this, nightly. They had an enemy in their midst the entire time. They’re returning to their family with one temporary companion.

We’re looking at a group who’s spent their entire time getting to know a living miracle of the Dawnfather, learning about Ludinus’ connection to the Matron of Ravens, the long list of horrors he’s committed. All who are about to reconvene with the people who helped tear down a temple of the Dawnfather, who killed his followers, who watched one of his angels turn to dust, who are returning with a believer of the Matron.

One group will be bubbly, and clean, and hopeful. And the other will arrive looking worse than they did at the end of the world. Dirty, and clouded, and sad.

Both of them have come to the conclusion that this is war. They’ve resolved to do anything to return to their people and keep it that way. To finish what they started. But the paths they went down to get here are on two wildly differing ends of the spectrum. Ethics and principles that will no doubt clash many times the further down this road they go.

[kingsmakers]

Empire Now: Chapter 1

Read it here: AO3

Update banner by @juliaswickcrs

Maelora Targaryen has always lived in the shadow of her twin sister, Rhaenyra. With dark hair and no dragon, whispers circulate about how Targaryen the younger princess really is. When she is betrothed to Gwayne Hightower, Maelora is indignant; the pair cannot stand one another. Yet it will be in Oldtown, a city of fractured magic and ancient gods, where Maelora will discover herself. For Rhaenyra may be made of fire, but Maelora is built from blood.

“You must not be cross with your sister, dearest.” Aemma glanced over at her daughter, who had reclined in a chair beside her mother’s and picked irritably at her stitching. Not as sloppy as Rhaenyra’s, but far less perfect than Alicent’s. Mediocre, as all things tended to be when it came to Maelora. “I’m not.” Maelora’s response was curt. It was certainly not Rhaenyra’s fault that she was the older twin, nor that she had claimed a dragon. Yet the facts did not stop the sour swirl of jealousy that simmered in the pit of Maelora’s stomach. To their father Viserys, she may as well be invisible.

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[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Okay but now I feel compelled to wonder, in that fun AU of CC and Marilyn being Captain and Mary Marvel, what their lives as heroes would be like

Like, villains are the same for the most part with probable lack of antagonism with Sivana, he’s the dude who hired them for the dog in the first place with the public intent of a historical attraction at a park and on the side of the bus he’s campaigning for mayor. Other than that, villains seem to be the same from the brief moments we see.

They stay out of the limelight, they prioritize keeping their identities hidden for the sake of Billy and Mary’s saftey and childhoods, and they take their duties seriously.

But what’s tingling at the brain right now is how they’d interact with the rest of the world of DC, heroes and teams and whatnot, outside of Fawcett and the menagerie of characters there. We know CC accidentally stumbled onto some daring scene with Spy Smasher and the bunch (no joke, time was funky in Fawcett and CC was alive at that time) but I’d love to see him with other heroes

Like, say he fills the normal roles in comics Billy would’ve, joins JLI and, like his son, tries calling the other heroes out for acting like bigger juveniles than his actual kids and ditches bc apparently the people who save the world on the regular cant not try and fist fight the other every few hours. He’s on and off some team, focusing on his city and his family more and more, pops in for bigger fights when they occur but is mostly hometown based and handles his own issues.

Of newer stuff, I turn to YJ’s tv show for another idea. Aka, CC also being a chaperone for the Team at the same time Billy comes in but with a twist, turns out his kids have a percolation for magic and have been getting the hang of some spells so they’re joining the Team too while CC is on chaperone duty. So leads Billy and Mary’s attempt at a slow entrance into heroism that immediately backfires when they get captured, cue heartwarming scene of dad hugging his kids after a dangerous situation that follows him tearing the base apart looking for them. True dad fashion and all that. What becomes complicated is the World Without Grown Ups plot, in which I say have Billy and his had pre-the plot agree that Billy can have Shazam powers for super big emergencies and Billy definitely counts all adults disappearing as an emergency. Cue once more the fun father son bonding of Billy looking just like his old man with Shazam powers.

Onto Marilyn, who unfortunately doesn’t seem to have more beyond “clever” and “good mom” from comics, but she’s got her hutzpah and would probably be as active a hero as CC while still prioritizing her life and family over heroism. The whole Shazam thing is definitely more a job than it is what kind of person she is, she’s an archeologist and likes that profession more than she likes worrying about everyone else. She’s definitely more no nonsense and, if there’s a difference, she’d probably prefer the more grounded crime fighting than the mystical shenanigans CC would do in her stead. Billy and Mary end up closer to her in quality time since that focus of crime fighting keeps her grounded.

Also, the general vibes of the Captain Marvel tropes. Such as the identity shenanigans.

It is a fun thing of fanfic that, since his civilian identity is very vulnerable and people like their identity plots, Billy has his questioned or revealed a lot. Add in CC as Marvel instead and it flips a bit to be a man who is well known in his home city whose entire family, non-powered children included, could easily become targets if anyone knew who he was. And he’s deliberately secretive about it for that purpose, he’s protecting his children with his wife. So, perspective, there’s a new hero who comes in with a hero partner who is also their life partner. They have the power of actual gods and titans, they don’t explain anything past some nebulous Wizard they can’t name as to how they got their powers, they are very hush-hush on their normal lives but everyone knows they have to have one. It’s hard to contact them, you don’t know they’re working or traveling or with their kids because you don’t know they do work or that they have kids, so you worry what they’re up to for what seems to be every hour they aren’t begrudgingly saving the world with the rest of the heroes. You catch them talking to the other but the minute they hear you they clam up and change everything about how they were just a second ago, you could swear they were talking about digs or gods or bringing someone home but you don’t know anything because you don’t know them.

Cue the mistrust, the reveals, how it all goes wrong and someone gets hurt, be it the other when they don’t have their powers or their kids and suddenly you’ve pissed off the man who loves his family so much he was tearing the multiverse open to try and keep the timeline going where they were all alive and happy together and the woman who loves those kids just as much. Or, say that reveal had villains get both of the Batsons, and now those heroes have to look those orphans in the eye and beg forgiveness, and when fate still demands its heroes out comes two new ones that make it seem like the whole Batson sham was fake and no way Marilyn and CC were the Marvels, the marvels are still flying around after they’ve gone and gotten dead and buried. Cue those heroes looking at the new Captain and Mary Marvel, knowing it’s the kids they accidentally made orphans wearing the faces of the friends they betrayed.