#and my deeds as I please. May my freedom be my only ruler. May my ink be thinned with wine. By boot and bag blaze bottle and blade.

[probably-haven]

Hello!

So I’m the anon who asked for more Archon War Venti headcanons and I just loved it! I really like reading your headcanons cuz some of them are similar to mine but mostly are headcanons that I didn’t think of so it really is nice to read and see your thoughts about Venti!

I feel like as if I’m asking too much but could you keep doing these types of headcanons? Like it doesn’t have to be Archon War headcanons but like some headcanons about Venti’s relationship with the Ragnvindrs and Gunnhildrs. Because the first Gunnhildr was the first one who prayed to Barbatos and the first Ragnvindr was his friend who left but came back and I really wanna hear your thoughts on that!

And I’ve decided to get off anon cuz you just replied to my texts and I wasn’t expecting that so I’ve got a short confidence boost that I am completely taking advantage of! And thanks for the advice! or uhh comment? observation? I’m not entirely sure but thank you for that! I’ve heard that be said to me a few times and I have been trying to be more, uhh, assertive so thanks for that!

rfouierjkhfkecs i actually came across information on Gunnhildr and the "Red-haired warrior" yesterday when i was doing more research into the rebellion against Decarabian and I was like "wow this would be really fucking fun to research and theorize on, but its too specific/niche to include unprompted no matter how much i want to" but bestie you prompted, and im literally so happy right now because I didn't think I'd ever really get the chance to post about them!

also lmao yeah, i tend to try and reply to as much as I can, since it's a good feeling when someone does and all. but yeah, no problem! I’m glad you felt confident enough to reveal XD. 

This may be structured a bit more like analysis/theory/just citing canon things at first before it gets into a more headcanony format.

ehe i have so much free reign on this it's lovely

More Archon War Era Venti: one two three

spoilers for Venti's backstory and Diluc's(kinda, i think, just in case)

first things first, laying down some canon background because before yesterday i hadn't heard of either of them outside of that one cutscene.

the very reason Decarabian had his storm wall up in the first place was because at the time Andrius had declared war on him- and his tower, and the city of Mondstadt by extent, were basically constantly under attack by Andrius's blizzards, which since he was still alive back then, were a lot bigger and covered basically what seems to be the whole of Mondstadt outside the barrier.

This meant that people had two options. Live in the city under Decarabian's oppression, or live outside the barrier, and brave the blizzards of a warring god... which was not a good idea

but the Gunnhildr clan(not yet called that) tried- and they almost died because of it. In the midst of a blizzard, the clan chief's daughter, named Gunnhildr(which the clan would be named after later) sent out a prayer that was heard by a wandering wind spirit. And the faith of that prayer gave the spirit enough power to create a small shelter to protect them.

When her father past, she became the new leader and also a priestess. She would later lead the clan to fight Decarabian alongside four others. And basically the Gunnhildr Clan ended up as like sworn protectors of Mondstadt

-

as for the red-haired warrior, who is basically assumed to be the earliest known ancestor of the Ragnvindir clan(im gonna refer to as Ragnvindir for convenience sake, even though "Ragnvindir" is technically a different character from Vanessa's era)theres not much information on him, but heres what i have from the various wiki's

- he was a wanderer

- one of the first to use the sign of windblume to find other rebels(so he's intelligent)

- actively propped up the nameless bard so he could watch as the tower was destroyed

there's this little tidbit too from the Windblume Ode bow's description that im probably gonna talk about a considerable amount too: "Atop the ruins of the ancient tower, amidst the cheers, songs, and tears of those who had newly won their freedom. A red-haired warrior turned his back on the newborn god, hidden like a single raindrop in a tidal wave of humanity. He was first among those who passed the secret sign of Windblume, the one who wove threads of dawn throughout the long night. His name has since been lost to time, but his deeds are still remembered in song." followed later by "The fate of this clan will likely never change: they shall ever live in the darkness and bring forth the flame of dawn."

-

Now I'm going to start with the Ragnvindir(geez, why's it spelled like that tho)

My idea of his character is basically formed by a mix of Ragnvindir stereotypes and just generally analyzing text.

So what do we know about Ragnvindir's for sure? they are shady motherfuckers- or at least they rarely operate in the spotlight. also damn, these guys are more cursed than anemo vision wielders- like the only one who didn't canonically lose someone close to them was Crepus, but considering that Diluc doesn't exactly have a mom..... he probably did

so what do we know? - he was close with the nameless bard - he was intelligent - he likely operated primarily from the shadows "ever living in the darkness" - he was a wanderer - he abandoned Venti during the celebration - but his deeds were still remembered in song, so Venti and him were likely still close

now the question of the century: how will i choose to interpret "turned his back on the newborn god"? And honestly, I'm- not sure- at first i assumed he abandoned him completely- but Venti did still make sure to carry on his memory- which could just be Venti being Venti, but for the sake of sanity, this is how I'm interpreting it.

A lot of things happened to the Ragnvindir that day. He lost a friend, saw another become a god to replace the one they had conquered, and he saw his goal, his reason for being in Mondstadt, come to fruition. "see the world through my eyes" the bard had said, and the Ragnvindir had been a wanderer even before. Sure, the people had won freedom, and that was to be celebrated, but he's intelligent to recognize that people would likely see him as one of the key figures in leading the rebellion. And for him this was a solemn time, and ending to a chapter, and not being one to operate in the spotlight, the last thing he'd want is to be swept up in festivities and attention at a time like this.

It also likely didn't help that he's probably smart enough to understand the idea of "power corrupts," and seeing the wind sprite just readily accept the mantle of Archon was likely not the most comforting thing to happen in the given situation after all. But Decarabian was gone, and Andrius had ceased his blizzards, so without a word, he slipped into the crowd and left, a wanderer once more.

-

now back to Gunnhildr

she was the first to receive an anemo vision from Barbatos, no I do not take criticism on this "the power bestowed on her by Barbatos" like please, they basically said it.

It also mentions that she crowned Venti with laurels(symbol of vistory) after the battle- the book Biography of Gunnhildr additionally says "the Gunnhildr Clan will continue honoring the legacy of its ancestors and its duty to the Anemo Archon: to protect Mondstadt, the land and all who inhabit it, forever."

I really like this because it conveniently ties into my past headcanon about Venti granting visions to the people of Mondstadt and having them be the ones to erect wind barriers and defend the city in his absence.

So in the Archon War I like to imagine that the Gunnhildr clan had a lot of people who were actually granted visions and were basically in charge of protecting it from those who would attempt to ambush them.

Mondstadt essentially became known for this- the fact that the mortals within it were strong enough to fend off the force of a god without support from their own.

but regardless, Gunnhildr, as she had before, served as a priestess to Barbatos, the closest thing that Mondstadt had to a ruler, and yet she only took charge of prayer and protection.... i hate to just- equate them to their descendants- but to an extent- her role was kind of like a merge between Jean and Barbara- Except with a whole lot less structure.... i really dont want their characters to just be carbon copies of the descendants but- c'mon, the comparison was right there.

anyways besties- back to Venti so i can tie them in

The Archon War was one of the worst times for Venti in his entire life thus far. And the time immediately after Decarbian's fall, while Gunnhildr and the Ragnvindir were still alive, was the key period of time in which things could have gone very differently.

Venti is the god of freedom. That's a reoccurring theme and I think I've made that abundantly clear. But during this time, Venti was anything but free.

I've mentioned before how he would stay far from the city of Mondstadt so the shockwave of his death wouldn't reach him, should he fall.... well- Venti is new to a lot of things- godhood- humanity- war- freedom- and at this point he was trying hard to figure out how to be Mondstadt's god without becoming Decarabian, and while still being able to survive, and make sure they survived, and see the world for his friend, and carry on his friends legacy.

And this is a lot of stuff for what was once a carefree elemental being, and there were certain things that had to be done for this to happen. He couldn't just stay in Mondstadt, or he would grow weak and his people would be vulnerable to attack, but he couldn't abandon it, because despite being able to fend for themselves, there's always hat just in case. He couldn't stay in any one place outside of Mondstadt for very long or he'd be found and killed. He knew in order for Mondstadt to survive he would have to take an active role in the war, strengthen himself so he could defend Mondstadt, and thats exactly what he did.

He started by going after the less powerful gods, ones he had a chance at beating with the power he got from the Gunnhildr clan and the rest of Mond, and by wiping them out, he would grow stronger, so he kept it up- working his way up the metaphorical ladder.

but he couldn't let anyone near him either, because he knew just what would happen if he was attacked then. Were it not for Gunnhildr's prayer, the early years of the Archon War would have been without contest the loneliest time of his life, and there would be nothing he could do about it, bound by survival and his attachment to the legacy of his friend, constantly fearing for his life and going against his very nature as the god of freedom. Frankly thrust into that circumstance that early on, and having to face it alone, it's likely that Venti would have caved under the pressure and dropped his attachment to either his survival, or to his friends legacy... or just something entirely worse(isolation messes with brains) so I'm attributing the fact that he didn't do that to Gunnhildr's companionship, speaking to him and guiding him through it as he had guided her through the blizzard some time ago.

I also like to think that she's responsible for founding at least a number of the different celebrations that still happen in Mondstadt even now.

Ugh supportive warrior priestess- we stan

anyway meanwhile! we got the Ragnvindir

He hears about Venti taking part in the Archon war during his wanderings and returns to Mondstadt to check in, wary of what he might find.

Venti, who hadn't seen him since the rebellion, is elated to say the least and they do a bit of catching up because they need it

and then the conversation turns more serious, and the Ragnvindir brings up a third thing that Venti needs to hold onto- his humanity.

See, in the early years, just desperate to get a foothold on the world, Venti's first number of targets were just indiscriminately going after those he knew to be weaker than him, and the Ragnvindir points this out, saying that while it's not necessarily bad, if he keeps doing it, it won't be long until he causes his and, by extent, Mondstadt's legacy to be tainted by a reputation for slaughter, no better than any of the other bloodthirsty gods that frequented the war's fields. "Think of what the bard would do, we were both close enough to do that much"

And Venti becomes yet more caged, but recognizes that he's right, and this is another turning point, that in the coming years would keep Venti from losing himself.

also- Gunnhildr, Venti having told her about the Ragnvindir's concerns that he now shared, probably organized some kind of event (not unlike the right of part, but also, yes unlike it) that was deliberately intended and designs to serve as an excuse that Venti could chose to take to visit Mondstadt, something she know he desperately wanted to do, but wouldn't allow himself for fear of putting them in danger. But if she made it an official celebration, then it would give Venti the opportunity to visit his people again, under the guise of it being a responsibility, not having to deal with the moral implications of doing so at a time when he was already dealing with enough of those already.

Also on his travels, the Ragnvindir probably started and spread a number of rumors that could end up working in Venti's favor, not that anyone ever knew it was him of course.

basically Gunnhildr protected the people of Mondstadt and did all she could to keep everyone in as high spirits as possible, Venti included.

And as for the Ragnvindir, he took a more realistic approach, traveling and getting venti followers in far places, spreading false information about him, and just overall making sure that Venti didn't do things he'd regret.

And when they died, Venti would carry their legacy with him as well, not losing his humanity to the tide of war as he very nearly had(though he still often came close), and trying to spreading high spirits where ever he could without fail.

[the-hoarse-bard]

Maro wasn’t lying. The sanctuary was crawling with Penitus Oculatus agents when I got back. Barrels full of oil were scattered about the entryway, probably hoping to smoke out any lingering members. I dropped from my perch and took them on. The Empire’s numbers may far outstrip any, but their steel is weak, especially for the more stealth-focused parts like these bunch. They didn’t put up too much fight.

I was about to head inside when I noticed him. Poor Festus. It seems he was ambushed by the Oculatus agents when exiting the sanctuary. I also noticed the black door hanging open. Of course, how else would they have gotten inside?

After dispatching the two agents by the entrance and heading down the stairs, I came upon quite the sight. Arnbjorn tearing through at least five agents by himself. I jumped in to help, and we vanquished them, but an arrow by a straggler pierced his heart and he fell dead. For the first time I summoned the ghost of Lucien Lachance to aid me, and we fought through several more.

Gabriella and her pet spider laid dead in the next room. They seem to have gone down fighting. I wish them an undisturbed rest.

Soon after, I came upon Nazir fighting off what seemed to be the last of the agents in the sanctuary. I was able to sneak up and run the assailant through. Nazir was thankful, and the two of us rushed into the Night Mother’s room, desperate to find an escape before the whole catacomb collapsed on our heads.

As we lamented the only apparent exit having collapsed, I heard a voice in my head. It said “embrace me, listener”. In my desperation, I dove toward the coffin, and my heart nearly stopped as it closed behind me, and I felt it topple through the window behind it. In the darkness, I heard one word “sleep”, and I drifted into a dreamless rest.

I was awoken by the muffled sound of two voices. It sounded like Nazir and Babette. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad they were safe, and I felt the coffin shift. Nazir was pulling the coffin from the pool it had fallen into behind the ornate window in the Night Mother’s room. Before the doors opened, I heard the Night Mother one last time. She told me to speak to Astrid. And that Astrid was still here in the sanctuary.

Nazir helped me out of the coffin, and the three of us shared a bittersweet greeting before I told them what I had heard as they pulled me from the pool.

We searched what remained of the sanctuary, and before long we saw it. The burned corpse of Astrid, laid out in a ring of candles.

Except... Astrid was still just barely alive. She told me that she had been the one who tipped Maro off. She was the traitor. She had dragged herself here burnt to a crisp to use her own body as the Black Sacrament, and to complete the ritual, I had to kill her. She pressed a dagger into my hand, and bade me to finish her. The target she wished death was Maro himself, in vengeance for his treachery. Before I did the deed, she apologized to me for the betrayal, and admitted she had been wrong to resist the Brotherhood going back to the old ways of following the Night Mother.

I plunged the dagger into her throat, and before she went still, I swore Maro would pay. He would suffer for his traitorous ways worse than she had for hers. After the ritual was over, the Night Mother spoke to me again. She said Maro was preparing to leave from the Solitude docks, and that the contract for the death of the Emperor was still on, and sent me to find Amaund Motierre in Whiterun for his location.

Nazir, Babette, and I said some short goodbyes for the moment, and they told me to meet them at the Dawnstar Sanctuary when the contract was complete. They will have moved the Night Mother there. I embraced the both of them, and wished them safe travels. I then set off astride Shadowmere for Whiterun.

I found Motierre sitting in the back room of the Bannered Mare. He was surprised to learn that his contract would still be honored after he had heard the sanctuary had been destroyed. I pressed him for the information, and he told me that the Emperor, the real one, was aboard a ship called the Katariah, currently docked in the waters where Solitude’s bay meets the Sea of Ghosts. I thanked him hastily, and set off immediately.

I rode through the night, more determined than ever. Shadowmere was as swift as if the very hounds of Hircine were baying behind us. I stopped for nothing, no rest, no warmth. Only vengeance.

I swam from the Morthal side of the bay, and up onto the docks. I caught Maro’s attention with a small stone from the riverbed, and got him to follow me up aboard one of the unattended ships in the docks. He had brought another agent with him, but I was able to best both of them without the ruckus being picked up by the guard patrolling the dock. I saw the Katariah on the horizon and dipped back into the waters.

I swam up to the starboard of the ship, and climbed up her anchor chain into the lower deck. I took out the lone sailor in the room before he saw me. Soon, though, I was discovered. And the brawl began.

I was a whirlwind of sharp edges in the melee. I took many blows, but as I fought, the blood splashing from the Oculatus agents felt as if it was further fueling me, and I could not be felled. Among the pile of bodies, I discovered the ships captain, and snatched the quarters key from his neck. Before I headed in to see the Emperor, I decided to take a short trip above decks to take out any remaining threats to the mission.

There were a handful of sailors and Oculatus agents on the main deck. I slaughtered them all with ease, my wrath still not satisfied. As the last of them died, I felt a calm wash over me. The light of the moons was beautiful from the ships deck, and I took a moment to thank Jone and Jode for all of their gifts, and for protecting me along my path. I downed some of the traditional sugar, and it calmed my heart further. I was ready...

Before I headed back down, though, I noticed the light of the moons glinting off of something stuck into the bowsprit, and I walked up it to investigate, my curiosity piqued.

A sword, of all things. One of those odd curved ones those Alik’r men wielded. I pulled it from the wood of the bowsprit.

As I held it against the light of the moons, I felt Khenarthi’s breath swirl around me, and I felt... Powerful. As if the wind itself was nourishing me, and filling me with strength. I felt like I could topple a giant, even. As I stood there, enraptured by the feeling, I knew this strength was not from any mere enchantment. This was something else.... Something older... Something greater... And something that had been put here specifically for me to find. By who, I couldn’t say, but I offered another short grace to Jone and Jode, and stepped back below decks, my new blade in hand. I have a date with the Emperor.

As I stepped into the room, the man himself seated at his desk as if expecting me, he simply asked me one thing. To let him speak. My bloodlust has already been sated, and my mind was clear, so I let S’rendarr soften my heart and speak through me, and I told him to go ahead. We spoke at length about fate, rulers and other such things, before he said he had stalled his fate long enough, and requested one last thing of me. He requested I kill Amaund Motierre. After I had been paid, of course. I took a moment and told him I would consider such a thing. He was pleased to hear this, and he stood up, and walked over to the rightmost window behind him, and told me he was ready.

I couldn’t help but pity him, being such a toy of fate. Doubtless he has been led by the nose his entire rule, perhaps even his whole life. I hope he finds his peace and freedom in whatever afterlife he has earned. I took one last cursory look around his quarters, and slipped out onto the rearward balcony.

So much done before the moons had even set. My job here complete, I prepared myself for the icy waters and dived down. I swam to shore, and whistled for Shadowmere. There was yet one more thing to do. To honor an unfortunate old mans dying wish.

As I was drying myself from the plunge into the bay in Morhtal’s inn, I noticed that no one had yet to remove poor Lurbuk’s corpse. It was still exactly where I had left it. Had it really been so short a time? Did the inn keeper have it stuffed and kept it as a macabre attraction? I didn’t stay to ask, and simply rode on to Whiterun.

Motierre was still in the back room. I told him the contract had been completed, and he said my pay was in a dead drop he had set up in the very room we first met back in Volunruud. I thanked him, but I was able to slip some poison into his goblet. He was dead by the time I walked out the door.

The payment was in the promised location. Much more than I could have ever hoped. I loaded the pile of gold into Shadowmere’s saddlebags and set of toward Dawnstar.

Nazir and Babette greeted me inside the door with cries of welcome and congratulations. Nazir laid out a plan to restore the sanctuary with all the gold from the job. I wasn’t listening. I just trudged toward the nearest bed, collapsed, and fell asleep smiling. Finally, at last, the Dark Brotherhood felt like a family to me, and this new sanctuary would be a proper home.

[thelordstears]

I can’t possibly stop writing. I fear I’d cease to exist and crumble into ashes (And that’d suck)

“ People don't need to drop a single drop of blood from their own kind to make it in this world, but unfortunately, we call ourselves animal to excuse such animalistic acts.” - Brooke Woodwarde 

“ We are no wolves, we are no sheep, we're people. But I don't see us acting as such. We act as if we were beasts, sent here to destroy. Odin, lives in honor, we do not reflect that. There's no honor in unnecessary bloodshed. We aren't human, anymore.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ Who cares if the knights worship one Lord? For all we know there could be nothing in the skies but clouds and stars.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ This is a land of war, not a land of honor. We poisoned the garden and asked why it withered." - Brooke Woodwarde

"Your mind is not so sympathetic, your mind is the greatest torture device in your arsenal. It works against you, just as a shattered clock ticks in the wrong direction, your mind thinks all wrong, wicked deeds plague you, but once you learn to accept you're no decent human being you learn, perhaps broken never meant bad.” - Elton Sederfault

“ I have been through many a torment, many a tragedy, so much so that I believe I became one.” - Elton Sederfault

“ My heart has been torn from my chest so horrifically, you wouldn't believe what beats inside my chest. Oh it's such an ugly creature, wrought with sin and hatred, but once upon a time a love for the world. But this gem inside my chest, this beautiful diamond lost it's glimmer. And now, it's nothing but coals, and the fire shalt only burn other's." - Elton Sederfault

“ Tom is broken, in some ways. But da most beautiful of things always are. 'E's stronger den 'e could eva' know, he's me damn son, and I love 'im, and if 'e ever needed a shield against da bullet's the world sends 'is way, I'll stand in front'a him and make sure 'e knew, I's got 'is damn back, always.” - Cleopatra Peterson

“ Look, ya could act as if yer past were chains that drag ya down, or ya could realize ya hold the key, and it's a little bit 'a faith.” - Cleopatra Peterson

"Perfection is an abnormality we can't achieve, who ever says they're perfect is either a liar or extremely lost in their very own delusion.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Reality is much, much, stranger than fiction. Because what I see, it's real, perhaps not to you, but I see it, and by God, does it scare me.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Here I am, lost in a world unraveled travelling these lands, wishing I was alone. But with a plague such as mine? I ain't never alone. By God do I wish I could be lonely, for once. These voices don't leave, and with a world devoid of medicine, there ain't no cure no more.” - Cruz Santinos

“ People don't give a fuck, they'll tear into you, and say you were the one serving the platter. What's a rabbit to a wolf but a means to an end?” - Cas Holts

“ Ya know, the sun always rises but that don't mean the days always warm. There's morning dew, the frost that lays against the damn trees, and snow that cuts against your damn cheek. The sun rising don't bring warmth it just brings a little bit of damn hope.” - Cas Holts

“ Welcome, welcome, come round, gather to watch the greatest show of all time. The fall of Ellsworth Davis, the showman, the mad man, the tyrant of the circus! He's watched you all suffer, so why not make him suffer huh? Suffering leads to hatred, and hatred leads to villainy.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I watch the lion leap through the ring of fire and let his mane burn simply for my pleasure, the one whom tames the animals gets eaten alive by the wolves he though family, the strongman is crushed beneath his own weights, and the clown puts on a smile for all, but deep inside knows, a painted smile is all he could ever manage. You might as well call me P.T Barnum, because I am a cruel being, using humans as my very own freak show attraction! The elephant man would snap his own neck because all he ever wanted to do, was be normal. But no, he was a freak of nature they said! An atrocity! A circus act only to be displayed but never sympathized for! We are all freakish in nature, knowing normality is something we can't achieve.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I run the sinners circus, I let lions leap through flames and trapeze artists swing through the air with no net. And I suppose, the joke was always on me." - Ellsworth Davis

"If this is life, and all I ever was is a perpetrator of evil deeds, than give me the very thing I've given so many other's. Besides, death is the only thing that could save me.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I got some devils ta slay and some damn debts ta pay. Ya listenin', devil who broke me so? Cause if ya thought Hell was bad, let me introduce ya ta vengeance.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I coulda been a saint long 'go, but now I'm nothin' but an angry bull, ready ta charge at the matador who provoked me. Show me the color 'a red, and I'll show you a darker hue.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I'd pray ta bring back my wings, but where has prayer ever gotten me? An echo of silence and my thoughts, so right where I began.” - Dylan Huffers

“ My mother is a memory, she was a hero, maybe not in the world's eyes, but my own. I guess, we get what we fucking get and don't throw a fit. So save me, or don't. I can deal with both salvation and damnation, so long as I get peace." - Dylan Huffers

"They say fear is a survival mechanism, it keeps you alive, but from what I've seen first hand fear is no survival mechanism, it is in fact the very opposite. Fear is what gets you killed, and he who lives without it, pulls the trigger.” Redacted

“ I am a God, a dynasty, a ruler. They say all rulers fall, but here I am, opposing that rule. I could sweep down and cut anyone I please down, because I'm feared. The key to ruling a kingdom is fear, your subjects fear the consequence of their actions, whether it be death or suffering they'll never know.” Redacted

“ All you need to appease the crowd is a jacket of good deeds.” Redacted

“ If you live life in sorrow, that is no life at all, perhaps you're past is a sorrowful tale, but don't let that define your future.” - Lacey Rose

“ Family can be anyone, people you met while you held onto Hell, or people who dragged you into the light, even if you kicked, screamed and resisted. We are all of us beautiful, and we deserve the chance to know it.” - Lacey Rose

"I think the path we're given is often one to follow, and if you go astray, just listen to your heart, it'll usually lead you in the right direction. Sure, it might break every once in awhile, but who said a little love can't fix the heart? It's the only remedy known to cure a broken heart.” - Gideon Rose

“ My mother has always said, "Son, don't let the world kill ya. You're stronger than the image the world wants to paint you as." And isn't that just beautiful? You don't have to be the canvas someone has made you out to be. You hold your own brush, and though your canvas may be filled with scars, paint over them. Yes, they'll remain upon the surface, but they'll be hidden from the present, and you don't have to face them unless you're ready.” - Gideon Rose

“ You look at me as you would a homeless man, "Oh he's just another drug addict, lost to the world's poison." But alas, society has never been a caring one, they say, "Look! Look at this poor mistreated fool! Watch him suffer! It's all he can do these days!" Isn't it amusing, how we damn what we don't understand because it'd be too much of a burden to understand it?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ We're all broken these days, wishing we could fix what we can never have, but we were never given the tools, so how do you expect us to create?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ I have a daughter, but surely she couldn't be proud of me, because I'm not even proud of myself, these days. So how can another claim a lie the truth when I already know it's heresy rolling of their tongue?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ No one man can withstand the storm forever. Eventually he chokes on the rain, it scalds his flesh and lightning strikes him down because all he ever was, is another casualty of a naturality.” - Arthur Wellburn

“ Ya might as well call me young Icarus, because I've put up my defenses and I'm damn well ready ta fly into the sun ta get what I seek. I may plummet from the sky on burnin' wings and hit the damn concrete face first, but if I can find myself after all these years, I'd rather be ashes then who I ain't.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ Ya know, my life's been filled with scars that I wear on my damn sleeve, but I'm battle ready and unafraid of the god damn night. Because I've been through the dark before, and he who knows his own shadow, don't gotta fear what it'll do when the sun sinks and it ain't visible no more.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ I've learned a helluva lot in this life of mine, most of all a bullet is the only thing that'll save a sinful man from himself. A threat or a reality, either way he'll be free from his actions, and so will the world.” - Delana Whinrich

“ When you stand in the midst of the option to save the world or yourself, choose the world for God's sake, don't make the same mistake I did.” - Delana Whinrich

“ Ya know, a man once told me, it was me pulling the trigger, whilst he held a gun to my father's head. But I've come to realize, whoever holds the gun has a choice, and thus is the one letting the damn bullet fly. Perhaps I pulled the trigger and pressed the detonator, but ya know what? I'm still a damn soldier. I fight for myself, the ones I love and the freedom of a shackled world. I'm a killer, but at least I can benefit the damn world huh?" - Delana Whinrich

"The world doesn't miss anybody, it's the people who grieve, not the earth." - Delana Whinrich

"The Queen's gambit, the act of moving a pawn upon your board as a means to sacrifice him but give the opponent a disadvantage. I think if one is to proceed with the Queen's gambit, the pawn should always be oneself.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ People say God don't speak, but I think his actions speak a helluva lot louder than his words. We're still alive, and isn't that proof that he still has something in store for us? We may not have an instruction manual to fix the world, but all we need is our hearts and each other.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ I'd rather be remembered as a man who did what was right, then a man who did what would keep him kicking. Survival is about how far you'll go, but life? It's about where you cross the damn line." - Romiro Smilowitz

"I'm brave, but not in the traditional sense. I block off my emotion in a battle, because I've found all it'll do is hurt me. I've let emotion control me in life before, all it resulted in was loss of life. I'm a blank slate of empty emotion.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ Everything I am is often associated with the vultures, because death hovers around me, it's as if I'm to be picked clean of good intentions and left out to rot with nothing but an ill mind.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ This cell of myself is constricting, because I fear myself, but I won't let that fear consume me. Because if I fear myself well and truly, I can't pick up a blade and show others, I am too be feared.” - Cosmina Winchester

"The roots of my family tree are wicked, but, as am I. I hang from this blackened tree, my body three feet above ground, I swing from my very own wickedness, choking on the feeble distraught of my very own sin. I look at the hands that put me in this noose, and I recognize them, the rings and the scars, the bruises and the callouses, because by God, they're my own.” - Mike Duster

“ I'm sinful down to my very core, because I was born a monster, my father has always told me, "If ya can't sin, you can't survive." But my mother has always said, "When ya get bucked off the path, you get back on the saddle." How am I to do both? Because I fear I am the very horse who bucked me off a cliffside and careened my way towards a safer clearing.” - Mike Duster

“ How is one to breathe in existence, if she doesn't even know the definition?” - Cathletta Mason

“ The hands of my father can't touch me in death.” - Cathletta Mason

“ I'm a demon in human form, a demon princess as Zargrod would say. He's sinful to his very core, and one day, he'll be my King of scorched intentions and wicked deeds. I'll be his Queen of bloodied gown and sinful lust, because what am I to do but let this love burn me to ash?” - Cathletta Mason

“ Life don't last forever honey, but my story will." - Cathletta Mason

"I look inside my chest and find my heart is a blood moon the shade of black.” - Idian Witson

“ I have claws made of sin and bone, all they do is rip into saints, its as if I'm a cheetah, because these claws don't retract, they tear into the soil as I bound and leap through the fields to pounce on the unaware gazelle who only ever wanted to graze in the grass, but would learn it was a hunting grounds.” - Idian Witson

“ I suppose I'm out of my mind, my heart is as pitch black as the nebula and as far away from warmth as Pluto.” - Idian Witson

“ They say we're all sinners, I just wish I hadn't taken it ta a higher degree.” - Greg Metals

“ I've lived my life on the highway, the revving of engines and the roar of motorcycles. But if only I hadn't become the damn crash everyone looks upon in horror. My bones broke, my heart cracked and scattered across the damn highway, but it wasn't me who was killed by the horrific accident, by God it was other's, and by God it haunts me.” - Greg Metals

“ So raise a damn glass for the tired biker, or poison the glass and finally let 'im drop. Cheers, am I right?" - Greg Metals 

  “ Sluzmink says it's about time someone told the damn truth. So you know what? He'll find the truth isn't bloodstained, it isn't glorified sin and bone, it's me and my six shooter with nothing but my fucking rage.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Life don't gotta be bloodstained, but Sluzmink's will be.” - Vivian McDermot

“ When someone loses everything, she's free to do whatever she pleases so long as it's in sorrow. And this vengeance of mine is  a sorrowful tale. Because by the end I'll hold the broken corpse of Sluzmink fucking Jones, but I'll also hold the corpse of me.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Vengeance is a slippery slope, and I'm gonna tumble down this cliffside and take Sluzmink with me.” - Vivian Mcdermot

"You want injustice you have to get through law, and these days that wall is thin as a sheet of paper.” - Alberto Newhill

“ I've got my badge of honor and my pistol, but God, how can one man face a thousand and come out the other side of the battle alive?” - Alberto Newhill

“ One man can bury a secret, but a whole town can unbury it with integrity and will power.” - Alberto Newhill

“ The runt of the littler is the least likely to survive it's a sad fact, but true. You can't be a sheep when wolves have taken over the world, monsters hide in plain sight and I suppose I'm one of em.” - Redacted (Different one from before)

“ The street lights shine light on me only because they fear what I'd do in the dark.” - Redacted

“ A wolf in sheep's clothing is deadlier than a wolf in fur." - Redacted

"They called me sadistic killer, countess of blood, a reincarnation of Countess Bathory, the story upon the News naming me Countess of death. I'm nothing more than sin and divinity wrapped in barbed wire and glory.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ 'm so wrapped in flames it's become my dress, I twirl through this stage, embers and sparks alighting a blaze so magnificent that even the bug burning in the firepit would call it beauty.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ Most live in a single moment, and forget that their life is made of up many little moments that define who they are. We all live ruled by fate, but what if, fate, betrayed you? The roll of the dice land on snake eyes and you end up in debt, or worse, in a coffin.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ How is it I am to survive in a world that's already damned me? Am I to cast myself into the flame so another can not?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I fled from the place I found pain, but still it follows me.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I wish such cruel harms on the King, but if I were to kill him, I would in turn stab myself in the back and leave myself bleeding on his floor.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ How am I to live in the moment when all I can remember is the past?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ Forgive me, Gods, for I have sinned. And I only wish to survive so long as I have a path to follow that leads me to you." - Shandalar Belrie

"I haven't lost faith in God, only myself.” - Jack Samson

“ I brandish a pistol and a badge, but do I brandish a heart?” - Jack Samson

"Heroes aren't remembered, but that don't mean they're lost in the soils of history. A hero don't gotta go down in history, just up in flames for a good cause.” - Miella Fang

“ I'm a hero, not because I pull a trigger but because I don't. A bullet won't save someone who wishes to be better, sometimes all ya need to do is put that gun back in your damn holster and offer your hand to the broken soul in front of ya.” - Miella Fang

“ He says no one can kill the idea of him, that he'll go down in history, then I'll give him his damn wish. But to go down in history, first he's gotta go down.” - Miella Fang

"You first have to light a match to feel the flame, but who said it's gotta scald your heart? Why not let it melt instead? In love, in another's heart, in joy to be alive. Not every flame is lethal.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I used to weep because I thought love was a lost cause, but when Lillian holds my hand and tells me I'm hers, I feel truly, alive. And isn't it beautiful, to live for another while still living for yourself?” - Lorelei Metals

“ I could let my thoughts be bullets, or I could let them be flowers that'll blossom into the most beautiful and prospering ideas.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I love who I am, I've evolved so much, and.. I think my sister would be proud of that. God, how I miss her. She was always my hero, in all her tattooed bisexual glory.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I've been wild all my life, been caught in the riptide 'a all my pretty lil sins, but I had ta do those things ta stay topside the soil, so is it a crime ta wanna live? If it's a crime ta defend myself, give me a death sentence and call it justice” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I ain't the best woman, but I do try my best. I ain't no hero, never have been, I'm just a girl with a baseball bat and some elbow grease.” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I miss pops, he didn't deserve the fate 'e got. But now he's in the soil, and I suppose I got myself ta blame for that. I can spin the tale a thousand different ways, but it always ends with a bullet and tears.” - Ivy Felinmote

"I am the singular black rose in the garden.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“A gardener would cut me from his garden of silk red roses and yellow poppies because I don't fit the aura in all my darkness and thorns. Not even my petals are beautiful, they reek of death and corruption.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ But now she's a wisp in my mind, a ghost haunting the halls of my mind, because she's gone, by the Gods she's gone and there's nothing I can do to bring her back. I've looked in every spell book, prayed to every God, but you need a body to bring back the dead, and I have nothing of her but memories.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ I could step into a garden and every rose would wilt and whither away into nothing but dust. I'm such a sinful creature that even nature can't accept me. As I said, I am the singular black rose in the garden, my thorns dig into my heart and the pitch of my heart becomes dark, the flowing of my blood in my veins becomes venomous and the petals I brandish whither and wilt and turn to dust before my eyes.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

"I'm a shootin' star hurtlin' towards greatness as if it were the got damn dinosaurs. I know greatness is a relative term, but all it takes ta be a great man is ta help other's with your actions, eh?” - Church Godsel

“ I'd rather be alone with my thoughts than surrounded in people who don't know what it is ta live.” - Church Godsel

“ I'd step inta the frontlines ta save an innocent man, my father don't like bloodshed, he wonders how we made such an egregious deed honorable, but I think so long as you got good intentions with that rifle 'a yours you gotta save who you can with the bullets you got.” - Church Godsel

"I am woven in the most beautiful of horrors, and the most delusional mystique.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I met evil when I was only a child, he was my father, after all. In all his delusions and all his horrors, he was my father, and I only wish for him to see one thing. My revolver before his final moments flash before my eyes.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the boogeyman and one of the thirty six murderers you will pass in your lifetime.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I drowned myself and people expect me to be my past self. But he's dead, isn't he? That scared little boy is gone, buried somewhere deep inside the woods behind his childhood home. I could look myself in the eye, and I'd stab myself in the back just to get ahead. Perhaps this is why I bleed so heavily, because I betrayed myself in a sense. But I won't stop, there's something therapeutic about all this madness.” - Alviro Conritz

"Ya know, I thought history was cruel. And then I lived it." - Marv Callemritz

"Sometimes, the monsters are the ones we trust the most, even if we don't wanna believe it." - Mathias Gonvable

"Oh I have long since learned that when it rains, it pours heavy on your beaten and tattered soul. Hold a dollar to the sky, the wind will pick up, and take it away in one gust, the wind, blows, blows, blows, and in its wake, trouble comes, but oh it surely doesn't go, friend." - Shawn Werdelstein

"I am the dark, and where I go trouble follows, so tread lightly, this territory is protected with fangs and old scars." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Livin' in reality, it gets dark, twisted. I suppose that's the nature of all things." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Zachary ya ain't so much a God, you hold the power 'a one, there's a difference in that. The statue of a God can be toppled, a God himself can not." - Klaus Van Velk

"When the world is at it's all time low, I am at my all time high." - Klaus Van Velk

"We already were fuckin' free mate, do you fink your politicians fought for freedom? Dey fight for bloodlust and bloodlust alone. Dey fight for demselves, if dey cared bout da cause, dey'd pick up da rifle demselves." - Winfield Coleman

"I could look into my soul, but all I'd find is desolation." - Scarletta Bonewhistle

“I'd say you deserve mercy, my brother. But that'd make both of us liars." - Violetta Gursoch

"Sometimes you have to realize the only way to win, is to own a black heart." - Ares Malstone

"Blame God all ya want Wes, but c'mon, give me a lil credit." - Gunther Mirowick

"I am but a wolf, feasting on his own wool." - Drake Chains

"Salvation holds no price too heavy to pay." - Shilo Downsworth

"I've learned justice and mercy can not, and will not, live side by side. I've watched as people tried, to show mercy to the wicked, yet in turn, they shoved a blade in their back, and the cycle of evil only continued." - Shilo Dowsnworth

"The element 'a surprise will be enough ta take out more than a few soldiers. Trust me, when guns go'a blazin' and the echo of mortality falterin' starts ringin' through the damn sky, even soldiers cower." - Davy Blight

"You could call me a saint, but I'd prove you wrong for a single gold coin." - Lugarn the Shadow

"I can't call myself a hero when I've never saved a life." - Grifold Hangers

"Life will pass you by if you don't live it." - Leonard Bakers

"I found living the wild side of life will only end in a wild way. There's no peace when you're living in chaos." - Moon Crimsonburn

"We're all saints in a world that forces us to be sinners." - Terrance Possematto

"People born into a bad life will think that's what it means to live." - Sarkelus Johnson

"I've found if it is darkness you seek, it is darkness you shall find. Seek out the light between the shadows, and you'll find it." - Victor Da Ville

"In that house of God, in that holy church, all I found was darkness and secrets no one would ever wish to see in the light." - Samina Gelbrook

"We're far from Heaven, close ta Hell, burnin' in our sins as if we were nothin' more but the trees in a forest." - Fallows Diamond

"I think, in every bad situation, there's something to be learned. Don't let the people who hurt you become imbedded so deep into your skin that they become a part of you." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes life kicks ya down. Just dust yourself off, and roll your die again, based on pure statistic, one day, you'll get that twenty, and find everything you never knew you needed." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes the world is a prison and we're the convicts polluting her atmosphere in our darkness but other times the sun shines our beaten souls." - Issac Abernathy

"He may not give two fucks about the pain he's caused, but when I'm standing before him, a gun at his damn head, he'll hear me loud and fucking clear." - Brandon Killovitch

"No one guns a man down and calls it peace except for he who tells the soldier to pull the trigger." - Messiah Morrington

"Revenge is immoral. So call me unholy." - Leola Jenefine

“If your demons are silent, listen for your angels.” - Caramel Pettagrew

"I'm covered in the blood of everything I was, I'm dancing in the ashes of me, but I held the very match that lit the damn flame.” - Sostias Hoffman

“ If my footsteps lead me inta the dark, then let me light a candle ta guide the way, and if my candle snuffs may my feet lead the way, and find the light that waits at the end 'a the tunnel.” - Alonzo Graves

"Most days my demons are silent, but on the days they speak, they break the sound barrier and leave it difficult to find any peace and quiet.” - Veronica Villenwicker

"It is in my darkest hour, in the hottest flame, the coldest ice, I have found everything I thought I had lost.” - George Stinson

“ I've lost a helluva bloody lot in life, I lost my innocence when I was thirteen, my 'ome when I was sixteen, and my will ta fuckin' live at twenty god damn one.” - Saria Romiro

"If you've seen hell, in all it's unholy flame and damnation, tell me, what does the welcome sign to Evergreen's bay look like? It's rusted around the edges, it's been weathered down by time as all things. It's hell in all it's darkness.” - Remo Gonvable

“ I don't know how the world twisted and turned in such a dark direction, but if I can't find light in the day, I'll create my damn own.” - Sheila Gonvable

[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly. Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition. A/N: So, this chapter ended up being much longer than I had anticipated, so I split it into 2 chapters, but the next one will not be posted right away, it still needs some editing. Thank you all for reading and your wonderful comments! I enjoy reading them more than you know :) Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies! And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback! Rated: Explicit AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4 Ch 5 Chapter 6 The Princess is taunted by one of the many dreams she’s had since she’s been in the dungeon—a dream of the sun shining brightly over Misthaven and warming her skin. She dreams of spending a lazy afternoon just off the castle grounds, she dreams of her parents and her brother, of riding horseback through the woods or along the Misthaven beach. She dreams of freedom. Then she awakes, slowly opening her heavy-lidded eyes to the darkness and the stone walls surrounding her, which are slowly leaching the warmth from her body. The temperature in the prison is bone-chilling, she can hear the sound of rats in the distance and her hands are bound by metal cuffs as she tries to, without much success, control the chattering of her teeth. She shivers violently and shifts slightly, the chain dragging across the floor as she moves her hand over her empty stomach. She’s not sure how long she’s been here or what time of day it is. She only knows her body is aching with hunger, her lips are cracked and her mouth’s as dry as the Atacama Desert. She’s only been given a small amount of water every so often and she’s not sure how much longer she will have to endure this insufferable environment. She is supposed to be dancing for the Sultan and winning him over, not wasting away in the dungeon while he finds another maiden to warm his bed. Emma briefly toys with the idea of escaping but quickly banishes it from her mind. Even if she somehow managed to escape, she’d end up being beaten by the orders of the Valide Sultan upon the discovery of her disappearance from the dungeon. Then she’d end up back here, and her sentence would most likely be lengthened. Either that or the Valide Sultan would have her beheaded, stuffed in a sack and tossed into the sea. So, nope, there will be no escaping today. She waits instead. She waits for her uncle to discover she’s missing or for the Sultan to rescue her, though that may be a pipe dream. She closes her eyes once more to visions of the Sultan’s kind, blue eyes, his devilishly handsome face and the hope that he’ll remember her long after she dies of starvation. Emma’s eyes fall shut once more, and she tries to sleep again so she can continue her pleasant dreams and forget she’s starving in prison. ~*~ “My precious son,” Kira greets her son with a warm smile and open arms, drawing him into a hug. “Today is the day we celebrate your twenty-five years of life.” Killian smiles and wraps his arms around his mother, kissing her cheek and embracing the warmth and affection she provides. Her wrath can be deadly, but she has always had a weak spot for her children. Breaking the hug, Kira gently cups Killian’s cheeks in her hands, gazing at him with pride. “I have prepared pomp and ceremony for you this evening.” She dazzles him with her brightest smile, moving her hands to his shoulders. “Nemo has found four beautiful concubines for your entertainment.” Killian has to suppress the smile threatening his lips. He has been looking forward to this day for weeks. “Thank you, Mother.” “Of course. Only the best for my son.” A more serious expression slowly replaces her smile, and she pulls away, her eyes a bit cautious and reluctant. “I must inform you they are not sterile,” she says warily. “I know you have expressed your reluctance to find a wife, but—” Killian raises a hand to stop her. “Mother, it’s quite alright. I have done some thinking since our last conversation on this matter. You are right, I must not wait any longer. I am prepared to take a wife,” he informs her without batting an eye. His mother’s eyes light up, a smile taking over her face once again. “Oh my son, I am so happy! I was afraid you would reject the gifts or ask them to become barren.” She hugs him again, but Killian stiffens in her hold, confusion washing over his features. He gently takes her arms in his hands, pulling away from her. “Mother, I have never asked one of my concubines to take the potion that had made them barren. They were always brought to me that way, just as the eunuchs are brought to the palace already castrated.” “Yes, but you have also refused to invite a maiden to your bed if she is fruitful.” Killian frowns; he is downright insulted by the implications. “You think I would tarnish the gifts you have given me? What kind of man do you take me for?” He drops his hands, anger slowly bubbling under his skin. Kira’s eyes widen in apology. “Of course you would never do such a thing.” She waves her hand as though trying to shake off her previous statement. “I did not mean offense, my son. I would not think any less of you if you had. Please forgive my words. You are free to do with your gifts as you please, I would never dare take your freedom to choose away from you, I can only hope you will make the best decisions, but of course, you would. You are an honorable man, Killian,” she praises him with a soothing tone and a small smile. He narrows his eyes warily but supposes he cannot fault her. The Sultans before him had been less than kind to their concubines, using them only to deposit their seed, and if they were not pleased with the maidens, the Sultans would have them beaten or beheaded or they would’ve done the deed themselves. But still, Killian has yet to see a day when he would even dream of doing such a thing. To him, the women of his harem are precious gems to be protected. They are the reason the palace functions, and they bring joy to the harem. But of course, that has not always been the case. There have been women who only bring darkness and petty jealousy, but he will not tolerate it. Especially after what happened to Milah. Especially when he has chosen an angel he hopes will bear his child and become his wife. After what had happened with his first love, he will make sure to take extra precautions with Emma so no harm will come to her after he summons her this night. Killian gives in to a small simper, pleased by her statement. “Thank you, mother. I only wish to make you and father proud.” Kira’s smile widens. “Your father and I have always been very proud of you, son, that will never change.” She leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Now go and prepare to be spoiled tonight. You deserve all of the gifts you will be given.” Killian takes her hand in his, dropping a kiss to the back of it before leaving her suite. He passes through the corridor, and all of the concubines and servants stop in their tracks and make way for him, dropping their heads and folding their hands in front of them. He looks over briefly to see if Emma is among them, but to his disappointment, she is not. He continues on and tries to get through his day without thinking of her, but all of his attempts are fruitless. ~*~ There’s excitement dancing in Elsa’s eyes as she leaves the corridor after her daily chores and reaches her sister and Merida, who are embroidering outside their oda on a couch. “Guess who I just saw!” she chants, sitting next to her sister. Anna and Merida both give her a questioning look. “Well, are you going to spill, or leave us in suspense?” Anna teases with a laugh. “The Sultan just passed a moment ago,” Elsa replies with a gushing smile. Merida looks up from her task, a scowl on her face. “Why would I care? He’s a pig,” she says tartly. Elsa presses a finger to her own lips to shush Merida. “Do not speak of Our Majesty like that.” “So, tell us, did you get a peek at him?” Anna asks, much more curious than Merida. Elsa grins and nods. “I did, but only briefly. We had to bow our heads, of course, but I saw him coming from the corner of my eye. He is very handsome.” Anna arches a brow. “Really?” Elsa nods. “I just wish Emma would’ve been here to see him.” Anna agrees, a solemn expression washing over her features. “Do you know what happened to her?” Elsa’s eyes sadden. “Mother Superior said she is ill and very contagious, so we are not to see her.” Anna gasps, concern clouding her features. “Oh, I pray the doctor makes her better!” “Me too,” Elsa agrees with downcast eyes and a doleful look on her face, hoping the illness is not fatal. “I have no doubt she is sick; this place is poison,” Merida mutters spitefully, returning to her task of embroidering the material she’s working on with hostility. Before Elsa can chastise her for saying such things, the double doors fly open, causing all of the women to turn their heads as Nemo and Mother Superior emerge. “Elsa, Anna and Merida, please come forward,” Nemo calls them, clapping his hands. He looks at another concubine, who has been in training for two days, and waves her over; Elsa had heard through the grapevine he had no choice but to choose the odalisque at the last moment since Emma will not be joining them at the ceremony. “Bellina, you too.” The short, blonde woman with a bun piled atop her head joins the other three gediklis. “Tonight, you will be entertaining the Sultan. Come on, follow me.” The four women are led to the baths where they sit around the fountain to be bathed by attendants. It’s not long before Elsa can hear Bellina gloating to some other concubines sitting next to her about replacing Emma, who they refer to as the disobedient one. Anna glares at her disdainfully. “Where did she come from?” Elsa leans in to speak quietly so Bellina can’t hear her. “She’s from a small village in Neverland, called Pixie Hollow. I heard she was born from an impoverished family and ran away, allowing herself to be captured by the Lost Boys so she could live a life of luxury here in the palace.” Merida scoffs, “Who would willingly choose to be here?” The thought fills her with abhorrence. “Poor, starving peasants, I suppose,” Elsa murmurs softly. Though not she nor her sister have ever known poverty, she can’t believe anyone would willingly give up their freedom, unless they were desperate enough to do so. “I do not like her,” Anna concedes, glowering at Bellina. “I wish Emma were here instead.” “Me too,” Elsa agrees, her voice cracked with worry. “I wish we could see her, at least, to make sure she is okay.” “But Mother Superior says it’s forbidden,” Elsa reminds her. “Besides, there is no time. We have to dress and prepare for the ceremony,” she says bitterly; she had been rooting for Emma to dance flawlessly for the Sultan so she could be summoned by him. Emma has made it clear she is not interested in the Sultan, but for the past few weeks, Elsa could see the twinkle in Emma’s eyes and the smile she’d tried to hide whenever he was mentioned. “Then we shall ask again when we return from the Imperial Hall.” Anna looks at her sister, who nods in agreement. “It’s too bad Emma will not be at the ceremony.” Bellina sugarcoats her words, yet her tone is dripping with contempt, and her expression lacks the sympathy her statement claims to have, betraying her fake sincerity. “Though I suppose that’s what happens when you disobey our Valide Sultan.” She shrugs, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “Oh well, it’s better for me, the Sultan will probably summon me tonight,” she assumes presumptuously, observing the three with haughty disdain. “I hear our Master now has a thing for blondes because his former love was a brunette.” “Elsa has blonde hair too,” Anna snaps back defensively. Bellina snickers and shakes her head. “Grey hair is not blonde.” Elsa tightens her fists and forces a sarcastic smile. “I do not have grey hair, it is silver blonde,” she corrects through clenched teeth. “There’s a big difference.” Bellina shrugs. “It looks grey from where I sit.” Doing her best to maintain her normally cool composure, Elsa takes a deep breath, offering a sweet smile. “And yet I was brought here as a gedikli and you were not,” she reminds Bellina, wiping the confident smirk off the other blonde’s face. “If our Lord does summon a mere peasant like you, it’s only because he has to settle for much less since the Misthavian princess could not be there to grace his presence with her incomparable beauty.” Elsa’s expression remains calm and collective, yet she is giggling on the inside. Anna and Merida are practically squirming on either side of Elsa, trying to suppress their laughter as Bellina scowls at Elsa. The spiteful girl doesn’t say a word to the other three gediklis after that. ~*~ The Imperial Hall is domed in gold leaf, it’s walls adorned with blue and red mosaic tile and the floor made of large blocks of cream-colored marble. There are large, jewel-studded pots filled with flowers of different colors and species, all around the room, there’s a fireplace in the center, crackling with small flames and musicians playing soft music behind carved screens. Servants deliver small cakes, sherberts, candied fruits and nuts to the guests as they await the Sultan’s presence. Finally, the great gilded doors are flung open, revealing the Neverland Sultan dressed in a magnificent red and gold caftan, and wearing a gold turban upon his head. His handsome features are highlighted by a trimmed beard and a slight smile. “Behold our great Sultan Killian Khan! May he live a thousand years!” cries the announcer as Killian makes his way to his throne on the raised dais, his head concierge and soldiers following behind him and flanking the gilded throne. His mother and sister and their attendants sit up in the second level of the gallery, watching from above. Traditionally, the couches featured in the lower level of the gallery on the dais near the throne would be where the Sultan’s wives, favorite consorts and their odalisques would sit, but since Killian currently has none, the couches are empty. Today is a very important day, though, for, by the end of it, the Sultan is expected to take a potential wife to his bed with the hopes of creating the heir to the throne. The palace has hummed with the anticipation of this day for weeks leading up to it. As Killian gets settled into his throne, he has to suppress the smile threatening his lips, and instead, wears a grim expression on his face. The ceremony begins, and the doors open again, admitting a large and colorful procession. First, the personal gifts from the inhabitants of the palace, to show their dilection for their emperor, are presented on a tray by a parade of bearers—gold jewelry to add to his rather large collection, books and an elegant dinner service consisting of gold plates and jewel-studded goblets. His sister gives him a sapphire, ruby and emerald studded hand mirror with a shield-shaped glass mounted in gold, and James gives him a new set of spears and arrows for hunting. Then come the religious gifts, tokens of goodwill and expressions of piety from foreign nations; one is a lamp from Agrabah which is gold with a curled handle, a small lid and round, tapered base with a beautifully styled Arabic inscription, praying for the glory of the Sultan. The city of mystery and enchantment has also sent him several cages of exotic birds. Camelot has sent him a sword that is said to have magical powers and is inscribed with his name, Sultan Killian Khan. A neighboring Monarch wishes him well by sending him a procession of several hundred ambassadors and dozens of camels piled high with treasure. The next part of the gift giving process features items from every part of the vast Neverland Empire Killian’s father had shed blood, sweat and tears to expand. Beautifully woven rugs are presented to him, along with a silk and gold embroidered tent, a magnificent black stallion, two gorgeous white mares, a large wooden treasure chest and much more. The last of the Neverland gifts Killian receives is from the province he had governed as the prince. It’s an instrument made of brass and used for viewing distant objects. It’s typically utilized by naval officers and ship captains for navigating the oceans and seas, making it easier for them to see outward and for identifying other ships and land. It’s also used to prepare ships for pirate attacks. Additionally, there are rumors an improved model of this instrument will one day be made to gaze up toward the heavens, which delights the Sultan, for he had been an avid astronomy student as a young lad. The final part of the ceremony involves entertainment from the Sultan’s mother. Killian’s eyes twinkle in excitement, and everyone’s attention is diverted to the dancing girls who parade before the Sultan one by one, each wearing a veil around her face and dressed in a different color. Killian’s lips break into a smirk, for he’s unable to hold it back any longer. He shifts slightly; the anticipation of seeing his swan dance for him is almost too overwhelming. As the four gediklis gather around the fireplace in front of the Sultan, each woman is divested of their veil and pelisse by their attendants. One at a time, the material of the pelisse is draped around their shoulders, revealing each face and the clothing she wears underneath, which consists of pantaloons, a matching bodice, a girdle wrapped around her hips and brocade slippers on her feet. The first maiden has auburn hair and is dressed in lavender, the second maiden is a tall, silver blonde in topaz, the third is a redhead in gold. The fourth woman is the last one to be revealed, and Killian’s eyes are drawn to her, waiting in heightened anticipation. He has waited for this day ever since he’d discovered that not only was his anonymous chess opponent this golden-haired goddess but also that she was one of his birthday gifts from his mother. The last maiden is dressed in an emerald green that matches her eyes, the material embellished with golden threads, and her eyes are sparkling, though not as brightly as they had at the pool. Perhaps the dimness of the room and the light of the fireplace, compared to the bright sunlight make her eyes seem darker. Her veil is removed by her attendant, slowly revealing her face. Killian cannot wait a second longer to see her sweet smile and the other adorable features of her face. He bites his bottom lip in anticipation, his body thrumming with excitement. The veil is gone and there stands a young maiden with a brilliant smile. The four gediklis continue to dance as Killian’s smile fades. Though the blonde is pretty, her dirty blonde hair pulled up with a pearl clasp, she is not the woman who was at his pool weeks prior. She is not Emma. Killian’s fists clench in anger. Why is Emma not here?! Who dares deprive him of the most beautiful maiden in his harem?! He has to force himself to remain seated while the four gediklis move their graceful forms to the music. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe Emma will be presented later? Maybe they have saved the best for last? Yes, that has to be the reason why she is not currently present. Killian perches his chin in his hand and drags his long, ruby ring embellished fingers along the stubble of his chin as he rests his elbow on the arm of the throne. The maidens don him with their best smiles and while they are pleasing to the eye—Nemo knows his tastes quite well, after all—he longs to see his golden-haired goddess. Killian is offered some snacks, but he can’t bear to eat with his stomach in knots, not until he is graced with Emma’s presence. The evening nears its inevitable end, but Emma is still yet to be seen. Killian has grown impatient. He turns to James, who is standing by his side, and beckons him closer so Killian can whisper in his ear. “Emma is not here. Where is she?” he inquires angrily. James has a confused expression on his face as he whispers back, “I’m not sure, Your Majesty.” “Find out immediately,” Killian orders in a quiet and subtle tone. “Very well.” His concierge quickly moves across the room and disappears behind the double doors. No one blinks, their eyes focused on the dancers who try their best to gain Killian’s attention, although the girl he had mistaken for Emma seems much more determined than the others, her hips swaying seductively and her eyes locked on his, trying to hypnotize him. Killian is not impressed though. Several moments later, James enters the room and approaches the throne with a gloomy expression, sending an uneasy feeling through Killian’s gut. Nonchalantly, the concierge reclaims his stance next to the Sultan, facing towards the four maidens. He leans in, whispering softly, “Your Majesty, Nemo has informed me the maiden, Emma, is in prison for leaving the harem without your summons.” Killian’s face immediately pales. First, he is saddened and disappointed, but those feelings quickly turn into anger, hot blood bubbling under his skin. Who dare send his concubine to the dungeon without first seeking his permission?! “Who decided this?” he demands in a harsh whisper, struggling to keep his voice low. “Your mother did.” Killian sits up straight, the anger within him increasing by every passing second. He looks up in the gallery but his mother and sister are gone. “Dismiss the dancers.” James nods and excuses them from the room at the Sultan’s behest. After the women and guests filter out of the Imperial Hall, Killian leaps from his throne and storms out of the hall, marching to the harem to find Nemo. He is enraged, not only because Emma is sitting in a prison, but because his mother had sent her there! She’s the one who’d wanted him to find a wife and now that he’s finally ready and has selected one in particular, his fickle mother sends her away! “Release Emma immediately!” His roar quakes even the powerful Chief Eunuch, Nemo Nautilus. “But Your Majesty, the Valide—” “I said, release her!” Killian repeats, cutting him off. “I will deal with my mother later, but right now, I want Emma released this instant, or there will be hell to pay!” “Yes, Your Majesty.” Nemo bows to him and quickly scurries off, Killian marching behind him as the Eunuch leads the Sultan down to the dungeon. With trembling hands, Nemo retrieves the ring of keys from the girdle of his uniform and unlocks the prison door. Pulling it open, he moves aside, allowing Killian to rush inside, his eyes frantically roaming the dark prison in search of his princess. His heart sinks when he finds her laying on the cell floor in chains, all curled up. Killian dies a little inside upon seeing her. “Emma…” he whispers, his voice cracked and his eyes dark. His demeanor instantly transforms from fierce and hot-headed to gentle and soft. But why is he this torn? How can he care for someone so much after speaking with her all but one time? “Your Majesty, your mother demanded we withhold food and drink from her while she has been in prison.” A mixture of emotions rattle the Sultan—rage, fear, agony—as he drops to his knees and quickly scoops her delicate, pale form up into his arms. He presses the back of his hand to her cheek. She’s still breathing, but she’s cold to the touch and her lips are pale blue. “Unlock her from these chains,” Killian orders softly, his soul much too weak to yell any further. The Chief Eunuch does as he’s bid, unlocking the cuffs from Emma’s wrists. Killian soothes his fingers over the spot where the metal has marred her skin. His heart aches for his lovely flower, and he decides she will be cared for under his watch. ��Send Mother Superior and a doctor to my chamber, Emma will be tended to there.” Nemo nods and gets a head start, making sure all the occupants of the harem are in their odas or dormitories and the doors are shut so no one will be in Killian’s path. No one bats an eye at the orders; this is a common practice in the palace when the Sultan summons a maiden to his bed so nothing can interfere with the Master’s pleasure. Killian feels an overwhelming amount of protection for his maiden as he moves to his feet and hurries out of the dungeon, carrying Emma in his arms. He rushes through the harem to his chamber where James is waiting, his eyes widening and concern washing over him. Killian rushes past his concierge, not having the will or energy to speak to anyone at this moment. Not until he knows Emma will be okay. Gently depositing her in his canopy covered bed with her head laid back amid the pillows, his heart is bleeding as he and James work quickly to wrap Emma in blankets to warm her up. Mother Superior enters with a small basin full of water and a cloth, which Killian takes from her and delicately wipes the dirt off of his swan’s pale white face, her eyelashes resting against her cheek, leaving a smudge of black kohl on her skin. His actions toward the maiden astonish the Kalfa, for Sultans are never to be burdened with such menial tasks, but Killian is too worried about his lovely swan to care about such customs. He caresses her delicate, cold cheek with his free hand, his eyes solemn with worry and anger. How could his mother send him this precious gift and then deny him of her presence? It was as though his mother had handed him the rarest of jewels before promptly ripping it from his hands. ~*~ Emma’s eyes flutter open, and instead of peering into the darkness of the cold, damp prison, she finds herself in a warm, dry bed wrapped in blankets with worried blue eyes staring down at her. “Emma…” the Sultan speaks in a whisper, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he sits on the bed, next to her. She looks around her, confusion etched in her features. “Where am I?” “You’re in my room, love. Do not worry, I will take care of you.” His voice is soothing as he leans in and kisses her lips. She’s surprised by how tender and delicate he is. It’s only a chaste kiss, but Emma can sense the emotion behind it by the way his breath trembles against her skin, the way he doesn’t pull away immediately and stays there just relishing the moment and the feel of her lips against his. Emma’s heart flutters at his endearment. When he finally breaks the kiss, their lips cling to one another before pulling away. Emma blinks up at him, catching the wrecked and worried expression etched in the Sultan’s handsome features. He strokes her hair and looks at Nemo. “Bring her food and water.” The eunuch nods and disappears from the room, returning moments later with a bowl of hot soup, bread and a goblet of cool water on a tray. Mother Superior starts to take it, but Killian swipes it from her hands. “Leave, I will feed her myself,” he says, his voice more even and calm. “James, you may stay.” Nemo and Mother Superior bow their heads and leave the room as James waits patiently by a window. Emma can detect how concerned he is from across the room. The Sultan sets down the tray and helps Emma sit up, propping up a pillow behind her back before bringing a spoonful of soup to her lips. “Please, eat, love.” She does as she’s told and slowly draws the broth, chicken, vegetables and rice into her mouth, licking her cracked lips when she’s swallowed it. He feeds her a few more spoonfuls, and the nourishment of the soup gives her the energy to speak. “My Sultan,” Emma begins, her voice weak and raspy. “I am so sorry I have disappointed you.” “Hush, my swan, you have not disappointed me,” he assures in a soothing tone. “Your imprisonment disappoints me, you do not.” His lips crack into a small smile as he holds the bowl in one hand and moves the hair from her forehead with his other hand. “You risked your freedom and life for a game of chess with the Sultan, how can I possibly be mad at you?” Emma manages a strangled laugh. “You are very forgiving, Your Majesty, I do not deserve your kindness.” “You are right, my swan.” Emma’s features cloud with regret as her eyes avert in shame. “You deserve so much more.” Emma gazes up at him in shock. “I know of your stature, love. You are not a slave, you are a princess, and thus, I will treat you as such.” “But you are my master, I am to serve you, and instead I disobeyed the rules of your harem,” she retorts, her words holding much more strength. “But I allowed it to happen. The guards were commanded to turn away if they saw you in my study. I wanted you there. If I did not, you would not have been allowed in during your second attempt,” he assures her. Emma’s eyes widen at the realization of this. And all this time she thought she had just been sneaky and clever enough to not get caught. Emma drops her head, speaking softly. “Oh, I am sorry, My Master.” “Don’t be, princess.” He brings his hand under her chin and lifts it up delicately so he can gaze into her eyes. “I quite enjoyed our game,” he admits with a coy smile. “We shall finish when you are better.” He kisses the center of her forehead and moves his hand to her cheek, softly brushing the pad his thumb over her supple skin. “Rest and get well, my swan.” Tearing himself away from her, he turns to his concierge. “James, watch over her while she rests.” He nods his compliance. “Of course, Your Majesty.” After the Sultan leaves, her uncle rushes to her side, speaking softly. “Emma, you know I was not aware you were in the dungeon, right? Not only was I hunting with the Sultan, but even as head concierge, I am not allowed in our Master’s harem, so how could I know?” “I am aware, my uncle,” Emma assures with a frail smile. “It’s okay, I deserve much worse than a cold dark, rat-infested cell,” Emma mumbles quietly. “I shouldn’t have left the harem in the first place.” “But Emma, our Majesty is already enraptured by you,” James assures with a grin. “Do you think a Sultan would carry a maiden from the dungeon to his bed and personally feed her himself? It has never happened in the Jewel of the Realm, I can tell you that much.” Emma should feel delighted by this, but somehow she feels ashamed. “I don’t wish to be treated as a damsel, the people of the palace will see me as weak.” James shakes his head in disagreement. “Just give it time, my niece, people will see how strong you are.” He sits on the edge of the bed and kisses her forehead. “For now, you must gather that strength of yours and be prepared for the Sultan to ask you to his bed when you are well.” Emma’s eyes twinkle with hope as she looks up at her uncle. “You think he will?” James grins and draws Emma into his arms. She rests her face against his chest as he cradles the back of her head, dropping a kiss to the crown of her hair. “I don’t think so, I know so.” His words comfort her, and also the way he holds her. Emma lets her eyes fall shut, pretending for a few blissful moments that he is her father. He does not smell like her father, nor does he have the same demeanor her father possesses, but she allows the warmth he provides her and the physical resemblance to trick her into believing he is. His kind, encouraging words and the fact that he is her uncle is enough to lull her to sleep. ~*~ The Sultan storms into his mother’s suite with a fire no one has seen from Killian before. His head is spinning with anger at his mother’s tactless strategy of locking up one of his gifts without even discussing such matters with him first. Kira’s maids freeze in fear and bow their heads. “Leave me with my mother,” he demands. They quickly scamper away as Kira stands from the couch with narrowed eyes. “What is going on, my son? Why do you storm into my suite like a typhoon?” “The better question is why do you punish me so?” His mother appears to be angered by the accusation. “What are you babbling about? I prepared a ceremony for your birthday, where you were buried in gifts, tell me how is that punishment?” Killian scoffs and places his hands on his hips. “Allow me to enlighten you. One of the gifts you brought to the palace—you sent her off to prison and starved her!” Kira’s eyes explode with confusion and shock. “How did you know of the imprudent slave?!” “Because, mother, I met her while she escaped the harem.” “Then you know how disobedient she is, you should have had her whipped or beheaded! It is no wonder she thought she could get away with disobeying the rules!” “I will do no such thing to any of the jewels of my palace!” Killian vociferates loudly, cringing at the thought of bringing harm to his lovely swan. If a demon possessed him, and Killian did harm her or any of the other women in the harem, it would be for what? To prove he is a man and that no one has power over him? Killian has a very different definition of what a man is, compared to what he and the sultans before him were taught to believe. “Whatever I choose to do is my business, not yours. Do not forget your place.” Kira is enraged. “How dare you put a slave above your own mother?! This is not how you were raised!” Killian draws in a long breath to subdue his anger. His mother’s need to clash with him on the matter at hand irritates him. Like most of the Mother Sultans before her, Kira’s views on any concubine with a low status, or rather any staus, revolve around her main prerogative—to maintain her power—and Killian fears this is his mother’s way of trying to prove she not only holds the reigns of the harem, but she holds the reigns of the entire palace. Of him. “Emma is no longer to be addressed as my slave. You may be my beloved mother, but if you wish to retain my respect, you will respect my wishes,” Killian admonishes her calmly. “You will not make any decisions regarding the harem without speaking with me first.” “I am the ruler of the harem!” Kira states vehemently. “If I see a concubine breaking the rules, am I to ignore them and allow them to do as they please? How was I to know she had already caught your eye?” “If you had come to me first, rather than go behind my back, you would’ve known.” “You were hunting! Was I supposed to wait for your return?” “Yes, you should have,” he answers sharply. “I told my guards to allow her into my study.” “And again, I did not know of this. When I ordered them to bring her back to the harem, they did not dare to defy me, so how was I to know you were willingly allowing her to do as she pleased?” Killian nods. “You are right, my dear mother.” He runs a hand through his hair and slowly paces the room. Kira is surprised that he acknowledges this. “Thank you.” “No, thank you…” he mutters, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at her, “thank you for making me realize I must make it clear to everyone in the palace that Emma is my favorite.” To his delight, Kira is appalled by her son’s decision, her mouth hangs open and she’s too much in shock to argue. “She has been released and is now resting in my bed, I will have her moved to her own private apartment as soon as she is well again.” From his caftan, Killian removes a folded red handkerchief he had planned on giving to Emma during the ceremony. He hands it to his mother, and she studies it scrupulously. “After she is settled into her apartment, you are to give this to her and tell her I wish for her to join me at the eighth hour of that day, wearing an outfit I will gift her. I also wish for her to dance for me.” Kira sighs, exasperated, but agrees to it spitefully. Killian turns and heads toward the door before looking back at her once more. “Oh and one more thing.” “Yes, my son?” she asks warily. A conspiratory smile slowly creeps across his lips. “When I summon my lovely gozde to my bed, I want you to be the one to escort her to my bedchamber, and you will do so proudly, with a smile on your face.” Before Kira can open her mouth to protest, Killian dashes out the door and finds Nemo walking through the halls. “Nemo, I need a favor from you.” The Eunuch bows his head. “Anything, Your Majesty.” “As soon as Emma is well again, I want her moved to the Apartment of Favorites. I want it to be known that she is my favorite and if anyone brings any harm to her, their heads will roll, is this understood?” His tone does not allow any protest. Nemo nods. “It’s clear, Your Majesty.” “Good,” the Sultan replies calmly and walks away. Tagging: @andiirivera @courtorderedcake @teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

[tarithenurse]

On my mind, in my soul - 9

Prompt: Got three things to go by on this from Anon: “Ghost rule” (cover/translation by jubyphonic), Asgard, a necklace. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Cussing, angsting, illness, mention of death etc., family quarrels. All in all a lovely, uplifting chapter once again :P A/N: Well...I caved in and that means you get the full chapter now...let’s see how long before the requirements are met for the next. If you LIKE what you read: please reblog! Or comment? Or send me hugs? (Puppies are also accepted)

The value of a life

I guess I really can’t dodge it this time No law to pardon my crime, no clemency for this evil of mine

Of course, Heimdal had warned the All-Father. A host of Einherjar were standing ready with cuffs, chains, and golden spears the moment Loki’s feet touched solid ground. They’d been rougher than strictly necessary, shoving him to his knees before binding him with magically sealed restraints. Thor couldn’t do much to prevent it unless he wanted to make the situation worse, and besides, the brothers had promised to remain passive throughout this endeavour. Yes, breaching banishment was bound to have certain consequences.

Shoved forwards with both weapons and hard gazes at his back, Loki’s reminded of a similar scene, but this time he makes sure not to smile or talk out of turn, waiting instead till he’s right at the bottom stairs of the throne before sinking to his knees without being ordered to. Maybe it’s the sight of the fallen prince, or perhaps the fact that having Loki around always meant trouble for some one, either way a murmur ripples through the audience that has managed to gather even with the short warning.

An echoing boom of metal against stone silences the room. “Loki Laufeyson,” Odin’s voice holds a tired curiosity, “why have you returned from your banishment, knowing that the penalty might be death?”

As long as another life will be spared. Finally lifting his head to face the man he once thought of as his father, Loki feels the old resentment begging to roil inside once more. Everyone’s waiting for it, expecting him to lash out verbally with that silver tongue which has won him friends and enemies alike. Even Thor, standing next to the throne, is keeping a watchful eye on the slender figure prone on the floor.

“I accept any consequences of my transgression, All-Father,” the words taste like bile but have to be spoken clearly, “and you may do with me as you see fit…I only wish to save an innocent life.”

A few snorts of disbelief can be heard through the grand hall, still Loki keeps quiet. Green eyes locked with one of pale blue, watering with age and seeking compensation through the aid of watchful spies. Seconds pass, long as a lifetime, and already the prodigal son fears it’ll be too late. A glance to Thor is noticed and scrutinized by their father.

“So you’ve found compassion for the Midgardians now? Hmmm?” Odin’s eyepatch wobbles as the white brows lift. “Tell me then…who do you intend to save?”

“Admittedly only one for now.” Even to himself, the plea sounds hollow. “A maiden whom I unwittingly put in harms way when trying to achieve the opposite.”

“One?”

“One.”

Loki’s knees are starting to ache against the stones, tempting him to reposition ever so slightly under the scrutinizing gaze of the King. He’s had worse, endured crippling pain far beyond the discomfort he now feels, and so he remains motionless save for the eyes that return the stare unwaveringly.

“Thor?” Odin commands without shifting his attention.

The God of Thunder was not one for convoluted speech when growing up in Asgard. Although he studied as a prince should under the careful eyes of Frigga and the many tutors, the more physically inclined boy preferred to put his intellect to different uses than poring over books more than absolutely necessary. Loki used to be annoyed by it, but today…today he rejoices with each simple sentence the brother utters, detailing the events since the phone call to Stark from Loki. Even as he bluntly describes the medical situation of the woman who’s nothing but a stranger to anyone else.

Silence fills the hall when Thor has finished. Odin himself shows a sliver of surprise and has very few questions for the broad warrior before sinking into thought. Make up your mind, old man! Not a word passes Loki’s lips. He can’t risk angering the All-Father, the ruler of Asgard who protects the realm and its people viciously from outsider.

“You bargain your freedom and life in exchange for hers?”

“Yes.” No waver.

A low hum escapes Odin while he thinks. “And…even if there is nothing to be done to save her, you will accept your sentence?”

Not before she’s safe. “Yes.”

Although “no” is what I meant, I gave a “yes” and lied yet again

…   Reader’s PoV   …

The entire world is moving, tipping and spinning around you without having any impact on your stability on the slippery ice. Faintly, you remember the idea that wherever you are isn’t the real world, but how can that be? Already, you can sense the beckoning carried on the icy winds, the urge driving you on instead of letting the stickiness take you down into the dark. Hasn’t that always been the life you’ve known?

Deciding not to care about the odd jostling of the world, you carry on slowly. As you navigate through patches of greedy tendrils, you feel how they hold on tighter…pull harder. It even looks as though more of them appears and begin to invade the relative safety of the ice. No! They can’t hold you back, the musn’t. Because somewhere at the end of the path is a golden chain set with small stones and it’s calling for you.

…   Loki’s PoV   …

Odin doesn’t allow Loki to be there when [Y/N] arrives, and it’s only Thor’s shameless pleading (mixed with a bit of logic) that secures a corner view in the Healing Chambers.

By Mirmir’s head! Every curse and worrying comment is bit back in fear that the silver tongue will land Loki in trouble…or the Midgardian. It’s evident how taxing the journey has been. Each breath is laboured now, rattling the normally gorgeous chest, yet nothing seems to come off it: face sickly pale; prominent, dark veins marring the soft skin; and a fever that rages through her body with a force that fills the entire room. One glance at Thor is enough to solidify the concern.

…

Time passes slowly, each minute reflected in the glittery particles of the Soul Forge’s projection. Even the physicians, Idunn and Eir, wear grim expressions as they work their skill and magic to battle the poison eating the patient from within. Loki can barely make sense of their words, too lost in thought and consumed by a disconcerting worry that he dares not voice yet. Just let her live.

“No, we can’t, there’s not enough.” Idunn’s brows are pulled down to the nose as she examines the data hovering above the patient.

The other healer doesn’t relent. “Maybe some o–“

“Who?!”

The one word’s sharp enough for a guard to wince, his spear brushing uncomfortably near Loki who’s trying to get an idea of what the women are arguing about. A donor? Well, the options are limited, and whatever [Y/N] is in need of has to be something any healthy Asgardian must apparently possess since the physicians are discussing it at all.

“I volunteer.” Five spears realign at Loki’s calm voice.

Stalking past the exam table, Idunn takes in the ex-prince’s form properly for the first time since his arrival. “Clearly, despite your intellect, you’ve not realized that we’re referring to a full blood transfusion,” she explains curtly, “replacing all of the girl’s blood.”

“Do it.”

Brown eyes are boring into cold blues. “We’d have to verify if you’re a match.”

“Do it.”

“Using just one donor could be lethal…for the donor.”

There’s no hesitation. No waver in the answer. “Do it.”

“Brother!” For all of Loki’s sharp senses, he’d forgotten the blond, bumbling idiot of a Thunder God still was there. “You cannot do this!”

“Why not?!” Again the guard flinches. “Tell me, why I shouldn’t! My freedom, maybe my life, is forfeit either way! Let it at least be used for one good deed before your father does whatever he pleases with it.”

Thrusting his hands forward, manacles chafing against the skin, Loki presents the vulnerable insides of the elbows the best he can.

…

Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. The darkness of the marring, prominent veins is already lessening, leaving Loki to believe that he can see a healthy luster returning to [Y/N]’s delicate skin even from where he’s lying in a neighbouring Soul Forge.

“I must admit,” Odin’s voice shifts the adoptive son’s attention, “that your action moves me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

Maybe Thor wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing as he rolls slowly on his feet. Swaying. Lulling. Must keep my eyes open. It’s getting difficult already. A tiredness is invading Loki’s body as the pumps work to withdraw blood from both subjects, only pumping it into one afterwards. This is not how the Asgardian had expected it to end, complacent and filled with regrets.

“If this should be your last deed, my son, then I will remember you more fondly than I once feared I would have to.” The voice is distant, with a cotton-like quality to it as it seeps through the dimming lights.

Go ahead and judge away, I chose to be this kind of person anyway

…   Reader’s PoV   …

The dream’s fading, becoming nothing more than a fuzzy memory of desperation and a longing for something that you don’t even recall anymore save for a glittery eye of a tiger. It had been so important to reach it, but did you actually succeed in the end? Whatever it is that had been so vital, it’s not in your hand as you try to move it, fingers fumbling over soft silk and lungs filling wonderfully with clean air scented with honey. It’s like breathing life, and a tiny content sigh escapes you.

Soothing but insistent, your senses come back for full power, and despite the soft bed, it’s hard to find comfort in your body and mind: one is tingling as though every part has been asleep and is now waking with pins and needles, the other is flooded with fragmented recollections of a hand-over gone wrong. Very wrong.

You push yourself upwards against a wooden headrest with a groan, eyes blinking to stop the room around you from swimming away in a haze, and you spot a figure sitting in a chair. Broad shoulders hunched forward and elbows resting on the knees to leave the hands hanging loosely folded.

“So…you wake,” is all Thor says before getting up and leaving, ignoring your stunned reaction.

…

You’ve been bathed and dressed in a pretty yet antique-ish dress. Even fed. But no one has bothered explain to you what has happened and why you’re here in Asgard. That’s where I am, right? Following a guard in golden armour, you’re being led through impressive halls with statues, murals, and tapestries the likes of which you’ve only seen it the best museums and private collections. It’s not until the enormous double doors open that you realize you’re on your way to the throne to meet the king. Odin.

All the curiosity you’d felt is twisted into a nausea-inducing anxiety as you pass pillars and people lining the length of the room, all standing silently watching. At each carved stone reaching high above are more guards, but it’s the silently moving shadows at the walls that prevent you from breathing further than the top of the sternum and recognising Thor next to the throne does nothing to compensate. Where’s Loki? He’s got to be around somewhere, but you can’t find him and all too soon you’re at the dais and have to kneel with eyes fixed on the floor.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N].” Where does Odin know my name from? “It is imperative that you understand how seldom it is for an outsider to be brought here…let alone a simple Midgardian.” There’s a poorly veiled insult there, but this is not the time to pick a fight and you choose to nod instead. “Still…here you are.” Was that a sigh? “My adoptive son Loki came and pleaded for the best physicians to treat you in the hope your life could be saved. He came…although he had been banished from this realm…”

The king continues for much longer than you find necessary, especially focusing on the infinite benevolence of him as a king and the Asgardian prowess on pretty much every single field of science, history, and diplomacy. The few stolen glances reveal nothing to be out of the ordinary, and you presume this must be the normal way for the aging monarch to address anyone in court.

Eventually, Odin reaches the end and waits for you to express your gratitude for the lifesaving treatment he has extended to you, a pathetic human (not his actual words, but same point). Of course, you sing his and Asgard’s praises. To begin with.

“Your majesty, if I may…” You try to sound confident as you meet his eyes. Eye. “Where’s Loki? I’d like to thank him.”

Tell them who I really am, Since everything I know’s about to meet its end

[mayacatmaster]

After a hard day at the office, all Solar wants to do is put his feet up and listen to somebody “tell”(teach; preach) him what to think and how to kiss any kind of dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass.

*** *** ***

No matter of use what kind of name…. God/holy books/religion/morality/education/country-social-family-belief-system.

*** *** ***

And…:

Me driving home from work knowing I‘m only going home to eat and sleep so I

can do it all again tomorrow

*** *** ***

microcosm-motherboard Vs. macrocosm-cityscape

That moment you realize You're just a piece of data carrying information as you move through a circuit system that has been designed to siphon your spiritual energy.

*** *** ***

And if you living in the Republic of Dog …:

And because your mindset, you already….:

You've become so service-oriented to others, that you don't take the time to care about your own comfort & satisfaction & well being.  You've got to tap into the awareness of SELF, and how important that SELF that is you is.  You have to be selfish enough to go where the good-feelings are, if it's a nap, if it's the beach, if it's this friend instead of this friend. You have to pamper yourself into alignment, and before you know it, the momentum of self-love will  crescendo to a place, that one idea after another will explode in your mind, as the entire Universe will revel in your ability to be at the right place at the right  time."  Abraham-Hicks

*** *** ***

Otherwise…:

Connection doesn’t care about the laws of the land.  Your soul will be pulled to the place it belongs.  *** *** *** The Greatness Of A Nation & Its Morale Progress Can Be Judged By  The Way their children/woman/people Are Treated. Children/woman/people not slave: not tools; not slaughtered sheep and horses or obedient robot.  *** *** *** A Nation/Social/school/Home/Religion-Moral-Group Of Sheep  Will Soon Have A  Government Of  “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler). ~Edward R. Murrow  *** *** *** Especially when…: Nation of sheep.  Ruled By Wolves & Tiger.  Owned By pigs. And I follow orders like a dog. It's what made me a "man"(woman; children). *** *** *** 【Ruler】: Between th frown of the tiger and smile of the wolf the flock is perished; the ruler claims himself as kind of the law, and the priest as the representative of “God”(religion-morality-belief-system), and between these two, the bodies are destroyed and souls wither into nothing. ~Gibran *** *** *** And their moral/religion/holy books/saints/country-social-family-belief-system coding by “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler), server for “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler), don’t service for people can alignment with Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator. *** *** *** Mindset.  It's all about mindset.  From the moment you wake up, to the moment you rest your head at night. Everything is up to you.  Your emotions, your thoughts, your perceptions, your reactions.  Every moment.  *** *** *** The Matrix Is Real It Exists Inside The Minds Of The Masses Through Social Cultural Political, Educational & Religious/morality-belief-system Indoctrination *** *** *** My dear Facebook friend, are you living in Republic of Dog or Republic of Cat??? *** *** *** In Republic of Dog …: those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law. They caught all the wild children, and put them in man-made-law-zoos,  They made them do sums and wear kiss-ass shoes.  *** *** *** No matter of in a country, in a home, in a personal-belief-system. They made them kiss dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass behave and please those ruler.  Those wild children, wisdom and wildness away.  That's why there are none in the In Republic of Dog can living their life just like cat today.  *** *** *** So…: There is a grain of Gold-sand in one’s eye, Look at everything, turning upside down. *** *** *** It is same If…: There is a grain of Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law-sand in one’s heart-eye, Look at everything, Contrary to alignment with their Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator, just run in the opposite direction. *** *** *** Those wild children, wisdom and wildness away, …: So can not living their life just like cat today.  Can not feel free to be themselves,  Can not feel free to be natural, to be free, They just can be forced by those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law, And pull and push and manipulate by those dark-tyrant-ruler. *** *** *** No matter of in a country, in a home, in a personal-belief-system. No matter of in a religion/moral/country-social-education-family-belief-system. *** *** *** Mindset.  It's all about mindset.  From the moment you wake up, to the moment you rest your head at night. Everything is up to you.  Your emotions, your thoughts, your perceptions, your reactions.  Every moment.  *** *** *** And…: The ideas of pain-all pain: mental pain, spiritual pain, emotional pain, physical pain-all forms of what you call pain are the result of resistance of Your Natural Self. Pain is friction, to put it on a simple terminology.  Resisting the Natural Flow of Yourself as an aspect of the Infinite.  ~channeled by Darryl Anka [Pain]  And usually this resistance occurs when, having been brought up in the society you have been brought up in, you have been fed, and bought into, definitions of limitation. So that in trying to live out these definitions that are not necessary representative of Who You really Are, you are going against Your Grain... And going against the Grain gives you splinters. ~Bashar *** *** *** So…: If minorities prefer Republic of Dog those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law, then we advise them to go to those Republic of Dog places where that's the kiss-ass-law.  Republic of Cat does not need minorities.  Minorities need Republic of Cat, and we will not grant them special privileges, or try to change “our laws”(those can alignment with Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator) to fit their desires, no matter how loud they yell 'discrimination" —Maya Cat *** *** *** In our Republic of Cat….: To be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself ,  not in rivalry to man but in the context of her own capacity and her personality  - Indira Gandhi *** *** *** So…In our Republic of Cat….: To be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself ,  not according to those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards to living through their whole life. *** *** *** So…In our Republic of Cat….: It's OK to pretend we're Irish on St. Patrick's Day. We pretend we re GOOD on Christmas don't we? *** *** *** But…In Republic of Dog….: Those Who Do Not Think Outside The Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards Are Easily Contained. *** *** *** And…In Republic of Dog….: Those only teach/preach/indoctrinate children/woman/people kiss ass by blind obey are such hypocrites.  *** *** *** They pretend to have morals-religion-rules-box-standards, feelings and a conscience but they possess none of these.  *** *** *** Because they are not, ….: Help children/woman/people to be natural, help children/people to be free, help children/woman/people to be themselves, and never try to force anybody, pull and push and manipulate.  *** *** *** Because they are not, ….: Help children/woman/people can alignment with their “Source”(True Self; Tao) and as alignment-deliberate-creator. *** *** *** They will lie, insult, cheat, abuse and disrespect you, but in return they will expect fidelity, respect and all your time and energy spent on them.  *** *** *** They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, but you are to remain loyal children/woman/people and perfect children/woman/people according to their morals-religion-rules-box-standards at all times.  *** *** *** This isn't healthy; it's toxic and definitely not love  *** *** *** So…In Republic of Dog….: If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me. ~Angelina Jolie *** *** *** In Republic of Dog….: The world is going to judge you no matter what you do, so live your life the way you want to. *** *** *** ,, To be free of all authority, of your own and that of another is to die to everything of yesterday, so that your mind is always fresh, always young, innocent, full of vigor and passion. It is only in that state that one learns and observes.... " *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Iwona Antolak”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Otherwise…In Republic of Dog….: I am asking you Kiss my ass to prove your worthiness, I offer you my opinions that you should be kiss my ass, just because use the name tag of ...: *** *** ***  And kiss my ass it’s your inevitable fate, duty and the obligation born as a mankind. *** *** ***  And you must take this dog’s chain as a kind of naturally, take this dog’s chain for granted and said it’s the golden rule of the world! 並且把那條狗鍊子視之為理所當然、天經地義的金科玉律！ *** *** *** And if you want to know About Chiang Kai-shek, Mao Zedong, the Emperor of Japan, North Korea's leader, Adolf Hitler, Stalin, Fascism where they come from??? Well, they all come from Republic of Dog, if you know. *** *** *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ Get a notebook, call it "My Life Story", and you begin writing Chapter 1: "My Life Story Relative to “Abundance”(freedom; health; peace-joy-well being; Youth-health-beauty-vitality).." And you just fabricate a fabulous fairy tale that is pleasing to you, and you say : "This is the new me!" ~AH @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ “Student”(solar): “My...Master, why the Blind-Obey-dog007 escape from Republic of Dog come to our home?”; *** *** *** "Master"（Mr. Bean）:“Well, maybe you need direct ask him? “ *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “My dear Blind-Obey-dog007 may I ask why you escape from Republic of Dog, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Well, my dear solar, because….:  I don’t want kill another.  I don’t want steal another home.  I don’t want set fire another home .  I don’t want bomb another home.  I don’t want lie or cheat another home.  I don’t want invade another home.  …: *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “ Such behavior is so well being, so health, so good deed, so nice virtue, why you need escape from Republic of Dog, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Because disobeyed the Republic of Dog orders, so I must be die, be killed by the law of Republic of Dog, if I want to live, I must escape from Republic of Dog.” *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “ Well, what you said freak my mind , How weird it is if one humankind….  don’t want kill, don’t want steal, don’t want set fire, don’t want bomb, don’t want lie or cheat, don’t want invade another… then he must be die, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Because the ruler in our Republic of Dog said: “We”(dog) are good and “they”(cat) are bad, always!  *** *** *** So, they must be kiss our dog-ass, by blind-obey, blind-follow. *** *** *** Otherwise…: There can be no peace until they renounce their Cat-God and accept our Dog-God. *** *** *** There can be no peace until they renounce their Cat-man-made-moral-religion-belief-system and accept our Dog-man-made-moral-religion-belief-system. *** *** *** And in our Republic of Dog: Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation. ~Qscar Wilde *** *** *** So if I want be a Survivor, I must be escape from Republic of Dog.” *** *** *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ The greatest gift you can give yourself is freedom from what others think. -ABRAHAM *** *** *** The only reason that someone seeks acknowledgment approval from Someone outside of True self, is because they are not feeling it from within and they  have a "void" that they are trying to fill.  If the way you feel hinges upon anything outside of you - you're in trouble!  But if the way you feel depends only upon your connection With your  own Inner Being - over which you have absolute control - then everything in  your experience falls into adjustment. ~Abråham-Hicks  *** *** *** So…: There's no rule that says I have to live life Like everyone else. *** *** *** We do not encourage anyone to move toward anything that feels uncomfortable. If you cannot find a way to feel ease as you are beginning your investigation of anything,  we do not encourage proceeding. The emotions that you feel are your guidance indicating your Energy alignment. Proceeding in any direction that feels uncomfortable means there is contradiction in your own Energy field and that is not good for you. There is never only one path to your truth. If one path feels wrong to you, choose another. No pursuit of any knowledge is worth your own Energy misalignment. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** And…: I am so wild, sexy and crazy just like blowing wind, no form, no name, ...can not contain in any man-made-laws. *** *** *** And …: You don't really know someone until you say "NO" to them. ~Andy Garcia  *** *** *** Because…: Those Who Do Not Think Outside The Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards Are Easily Contained. *** *** *** And If…: There is a grain of Gold-sand in one’s eye, Look at everything, turning upside down. *** *** *** So it same ...If…: There is a grain of Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law-sand in one’s heart-eye, Look at everything, Contrary to alignment with their Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator, just run in the opposite direction. *** *** *** And if …: You Are Still Attached To Your Religion, Your Color, Or The Country You Were Born In, Then You Still Don't Know Who And What You Truly Are.  *** *** *** If You Believe Everything You're Told Without Question  You Are Successfully Brainwashed. *** *** *** Now…: Busy fixing shit I thought was normal behavior as a child.  Now that I'm older, I've realized it was toxic af. Now I have to reprogram my brain so I don't continue that toxic cycle.  *** *** *** So….: Rule number 1:  Fuck what they think.  *** *** *** Follow the force that is guiding the whole universe is in you.  Pledge allegiance to your "Source"(God; True Self; Tao; Logos),  everything is done! ~Huangdi Yinfujing 「觀天之道，執天之行，盡矣！」: 黃帝陰符經； *** *** *** You are never along or helpless. The force that is guiding the whole universe is in you too! *** *** *** Those who flow as "Life"(Tao; True Self; Source) flows know they need no other force. ~Lao tzu *** *** *** You have all the intelligence within you. TRUST, ALLOW and only listen to your own HEART! *** *** *** Use your own light and return to the Source of "Light"(Tao; True Self; Wisdom of Universal). This is called practicing eternity. ~Lao Tzu *** *** *** Always listen to your own heart, even if it is against what your family, society, culture of religion is telling you! *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Thanks for “ONEness” *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Because…: **It is up to you to accept those ideas that you choose to accept, and reject those that you do not.  * * You are not powerless before ideas.  * * Throw out ideas that do not suit you. ~@SethSpeaks1  *** *** ***  When shoes fit, forget foot;  when girdle fit, forget waist:  when methods fit, forget minds;  that shows the "Suitability"(alignment with "Source) of the heart (for the question). ~Zhuangzi *** *** *** Those in alignment Follow the order of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos), they Follow the way of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos), they Follow the timing of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) and they Follow the design of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos).  They are calm; They are clear;  They are real. Having arrived at the "Root"(Tao；True Self；Brahman),  They are never confused by the branches. *** *** *** The "Source"(Tao; Maat；Logos) has always been same, in ancient and modern, in east and west, in any time-space. *** *** *** The rightness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Rightness", but itself can be everyone's rightness. The order of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Order", but itself can be everyone's order. The law of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Law", but itself can be everyone's law. The goodness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Goodness", but itself can be everyone's goodness. *** *** *** The goodness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos),  can help you watching & witness your own 3D-life-movie, regard it as other people's 3D-life-movie,  can help you watching & witness your own self, regard it as other people's self, can help you get rid of painful, get sweet fruits, realized "True Self"(Tao；Brahman). *** *** ***  Too often~~~! People get caught up in how things "should be"(what parents, teachers, priests, kings, holy books said:"you should be~~~~!"),  and forget to live their lives,  and forget their "True Self"(Tao；God). *** *** *** Too often~~~! Everyone tells you what to do and what's good for you. They don't want you go find your own answers.  They want you to believe theirs. ~Socrates *** *** ***  But,~~~! If you live for people's acceptance, you will die from their rejection. *** *** ***  *Under construction*  Busy fixing shit I thought was normal behavior as a child. Now that I'm older, I've realized it was toxic af. Now i have to reprogram my brain so I don't continue that toxic cycle.  *** *** ***

[occasionalfics]

The One to Stay, 1 (Thor x Reader)

general masterlist | tots masterlist

Summary: To capture a kingdom, you wait until they’re at their lowest point. Maybe it’s not your best choice, but it’s the most strategic.

A/N: I feel like I’ve been talking a lot about this, but it’s finally here! So yeah I mentioned in at least one other post that this is gonna have a sequel and I’ve already started on that! I don’t think it’ll be quite as long (this is...almost 90 google doc pages itself), but I’ve got big plans. Warnings: mild violence, some explicit language.

Tags: @thewayilookatbacon @mysweetcookie99 @httpmcrvel (send me a message if you want to be added! please specify if you want to be added to this story, or as a global tag!)

Words: 4,196

Your father wanted Asgard. Everyone did at some point, but your father saw an opportunity and wanted you to take it for him. He was old and decrepit, sitting on a throne that he could hardly leave without assistance. You, on the other hand, were young, lively, and skilled in battle. And you were his only living heir - all others had died or been killed off, or married into thrones on other planets and inherited other kingdoms while your ancient father refused to die or be killed himself.

You weren’t particularly fond of your father, but you never let him see as much. If you were the only heir that wasn’t too impatient to wait for the throne or too stupid to die before you could inherit it yourself, you could hide your disdain for the man who helped bring you into the world. You would do what he bid, so long as it put you in his good favor. So if he said he wanted Asgard, you would give it to him.

Somehow, you convinced yourself that this meant he would willingly give you the throne, whenever he thought you were ready to take it. You’d talked yourself into believing that none of your older siblings were right for the job. That was why your father had never given the throne to them, you thought. You were different, though. You’d show him that he could trust the crown would be safe in your hands.

You often asked yourself why you didn’t simply kill your father yourself. But when you thought about doing it, you realized that it wasn’t your father that kept you from doing the deed. You were scared of the repercussions. Patricide wouldn’t be taken lightly on a small planet like yours. You wouldn’t last a week on the throne if your subjects didn’t trust you. And besides, you were the youngest of your many, many siblings. Some of your older ones died trying to kill their father - either by your father himself, his guards, or the people your father ruled over. See, he wasn’t a malevolent ruler (or he hadn’t been), just a terrible father.

Still, he wanted Asgard. And because you’d learned from the mistakes of your family, you would be the one to give it to him. Personally. He didn’t care if you brought it with the King dead or alive, which meant you had some choice in the matter.

You waited as long as you could - long enough, even, that your father had started mocking you at court. He’d started saying that you would never do as he asked, that you were disobedient and a liar. But you were being tactful, waiting for a moment of weakness to pounce. You were a highly trained Warrior Princess, but you also knew your army was small. Formidable, but low in number. So you let Hela, Goddess of Death, do most of the work for you. When she was done with, you rallied your troops and met Asgard as it stood in a single ship, its King looking out into the vast vacuum of Space, watching carefully as you came into view with an army behind you.

As you’d planned, stealing command of their ship and threatening their very lives was as easy as knocking the Gatekeeper unconscious, tying up the Trickster God, losing a few dispensable troops to the Hulk, and holding off the Valkyrie with four of your trusted swordsmen. The last two weren’t exactly easy, but you’d managed. Your personal part, however, consisted of hand-to-hand combat with a weary, weakened, one-eyed Thunder God. He got a few good shocks into you, but he underestimated you, too. You were able to catch him off guard long enough to wrap your fingers around his bulky neck and squeeze.

It didn’t bring you joy to see him - or anyone, for that matter - like that. But it was what your father wanted. It was what you needed to give him to watch him step down from the throne. You didn’t plan on killing the Thunder God King; you wanted him in your court, truth be told. You didn’t need Asgard like your father said he did, but who would it hurt by having them?

“I know you’ve suffered quite a loss, Thunder God,” you said, glaring at his ragged, though still sculpted and beautiful face. “And yet, I must take more.”

He gasped for air, his single iris blown out in what you assumed was surprise a your strength. You couldn’t blame him; you were much smaller than he was, and yet, he could not wrestle his freedom from your grip.

“But because you’ve lost so much,” you said, pulling him closer to you, “I am prepared to show some semblance of mercy.” You loosened your hold just a bit - not enough for his deprived fingers to pry you from him, but enough to allow more oxygen into his body.

“Please,” he gasped, gritting his teeth between his words. “Spare them.”

“Spare whom, Thunder God?” you asked.

He coughed before answering, “Asgard.”

A thought occurred to you, then. You glanced just over his shoulder, past your long arm and curved fingers against his golden skin. Behind him, beyond the fighting, was a large crowd huddling together, surrounded by whatever army Asgard had left to defend them. They were citizens, just like those on your planet. There were children, dirty and tiny with cuts and bruises. There were screaming women and men shielding their families from the destruction happening around them. They were people - they were Asgard.

Your father wanted Asgard, and now you had it to give to him.

You looked at the Thunder God once more, your fingers loosening more. You even let him fall to the ground, desperately pulling in air to fill his lungs once more. If you were truly evil, as you were sure he believed you were - as his people believed you were - you would’ve mocked him for being weak.

But, alas, you were the Goddess of both War and Mercy. Somehow, they went hand-in-hand, perhaps because one was often fought over life and the other spared it. So instead of mockery, you kneeled before the Thunder God, gently putting your hand on his chin before he pushed it away with a force that should have knocked you over. It didn’t. Goddess of War and all that.

“Relinquish your rule of Asgard to me, Thunder God,” you said. “They will be spared. You may be, as well. Give me Asgard, and you will all live.”

He glared at you with enough passion to burn you, if his eye could do so much. You swore you saw a flash of light give a warning in his pupil, but he said nothing of it, so neither did you.

“Odinson,” you whispered, “it gives me no pleasure to see you and your people like this. I wish we’d met under other circumstances, but that’s not the case.” You looked at his people once more, hoping he would see the gesture and know you were being sincere. “If you want your people to thrive, you will give them to me.”

He seemed to contemplate this. He looked around the ship, though he did not attempt to stand, and saw the destruction he was allowing to take place on his ship, in front of and for his Asgardian people.

“The Gatekeeper will find useful employment,” you said. “Your citizens will have more fulfilling lives than you can give them on a ship.” When he slowly turned back to you, still breathing heavily, you tilted your head and said, “I’m giving you exactly what you want, Thunder God.”

“What do you know of what I want?” he asked, practically spitting at you with the vitriol of his entire people.

You nodded, but were otherwise unphased. “Perhaps I don’t,” you said. “But as King, would you not like to see your subjects happily living normal lives? Perhaps not as refugees?”

The dark tint to his blue eye did not change. Clearly, he didn’t like what you were offering, but you knew as well as he that he had no better option except to search for a place to leave his people on his own. A solution to his wandering problem was presented, though maybe not in the way he would’ve liked. It wasn’t even the way you would’ve liked, but it was how you went about the business anyway.

“I’m cutting out much of your own work for you, Thunder God. Give them to me. Come and serve in my court-”

“As what? Jester?” he asked, still spitting.

“You’re wasting time,” you said in a flat tone. “We’ll discuss your place in all of this later, should you comply. Give me your people, and give them a chance to live.”

The Hulk picked up four of your men as if they were nothing, and threw them into a wall not too far off from the group of huddled masses. Thor watched it all, turning to see better. You slowly stood, bringing your boots to his line of attention.

“So, Thunder God,” you said. He turned back to you, and then you said, “What’ll it be?”

His glare soured, his fingers twitched with lightning, and he answered through his teeth: “Fine. I relinquish my rule of Asgard to you, Goddess of War.”

You bent at the waist, looked him straight in the eye, and smiled as you told him, “And Mercy.”

You stood before the doors to the throne room. The Thunder God, the Trickster God, the Valkyrie, and the Hulk, now subdued and bound to one another by reinforced chains, stood in a line behind you. Behind them were four armed guards you’d ordered to make sure the group followed you.

This was not the way you wanted to conduct this business. You wanted the Thunder God to trust your word, that you would be merciful - that you were the Goddess of Mercy, to begin - and that you would care for his people. He’d gotten a small peek at your own people, thriving and lively and welcoming, and yet, he was not convinced. You knew the cuffs did not help.

You bit your lip and straightened as the doors opened, then stepped lightly, one foot in front of the other, as you made your way down the aisle towards your ancient father’s throne. He sat, hunched over, glaring with his large, dark eyes. Eyes that looked nothing like yours. You hoped the Thunder God saw that, at least.

“Father,” you said with a bow. “I bring you Thor and Loki Odinsons, the King and Prince of Asgard, as well as their court.”

“Small court,” your father muttered.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you said, mostly ignoring the comment. “But then, Asgard does not require a large court now.”

“There is no Asgard, girl,” your father said.

You smiled at him. “If by that, you mean that Asgard is here now, you are correct.” You turned on your heel, pulled the key to the Thunder God’s cuffs from a pocket on your thigh, and rushed to uncuff him. As you fiddled with the metal, you used your limited abilities to throw your voice at him, whispering, “You must please him if you wish to see Asgard thrive.”

He glared over his shoulder, his expression half-enraged and half-surprised. You weren’t close enough to whisper so clearly to only him, and he knew it. But if you’d leaned in, he would have squirmed, and you wouldn’t have blamed him. Plus, everyone in the room would’ve seen - not excluding your father, who glared even as you took the cuffs off and came back around to stand in front again.

“Your Grace, I’ve done as you bid me. I’ve brought you Asgard, as it stands.” You put a hand back just enough to wave the Thunder God on. He seemed to at least pick up on the gesture, and came to stand beside you, his arms crossed against his broad chest now.

“You’ve brought me a broken, lost people, Daughter,” your father said, his voice gravelly and sparse. Still, somehow, he filled the room with his command. “You brought me refugees.”

“My people were promised peaceful shelter,” Thor said from beside you.

You froze, tensing up in what could only be described as a completely noticeable move.

Your father looked from you to the Thunder God and asked, “Oh? Tell me, Odinson, under what terms?”

Thor threw you a sidelong glance, never changing his position as his brows furrowed. “That I must surrender them to you, as well as, I assume, the title of King of Asgard.”

Your father gave a single loud chuckle and shook his head. He shut his eyes, dropped his head a few inches, and continued to laugh. Thor turned his gaze to you, a question lingering in his single blue eye. You were still frozen in place, practically unable to meet his stare in the presence of your father this way.

“That title means nothing,” your father said. He’d glanced back at you by then, and his laughter had died. “I told you to bring me Asgard a year ago, Daughter, and you pilfered your troops, time, and my patience.”

“I was waiting for an opportune moment-”

“You were waiting for a Golden Invitation, I understand,” he said, holding a hand up. He nodded, but you didn’t trust the gesture. You knew your father too well to think he wasn’t about to snap. “But as your King, my command is your Golden Invitation. You let Asgard go in its prime, and now it means nothing to me.”

“Odin was still in power a year ago,” you said, standing taller in defense of yourself. “Of course I wouldn’t have been able to claim Asgard for you!”

“Um, actually,” you heard from behind you.

You turned around to see that Loki had leaned forward to speak to you, but he wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise.

“Silence!” your father yelled, now glaring the light out of the Trickster God’s eyes.

Loki stood with his mouth hanging open, staring back at your father. You turned around again, letting some thick strands of hair fall in your face to hide behind. You felt your face go cold in a nervous flush, and you balled your fists to try to get ahold of yourself.

“My father was in Norway a year ago,” Thor said, his voice just as demanding of your attention as your father’s. “My brother had sent him, unwillingly, to Midgard, where he died.”

Your father seemed to contemplate that information. He watched Thor carefully, the way he watched anyone accused of treason, on the occasion he was required to act as judge and jury. “So then, Odinson, who ruled Asgard in the interim?” he asked.

“I did,” Loki said, and when you turned back to him, he was standing tall once more. “I disguised myself as Odin and ruled in his stead.”

Your father seemed to smirk - or he conjured what could only be called a smirk on his wrinkled, ancient face, and gave another small chuckle. “Clever,” he muttered. “But that means my Daughter should have invaded much earlier than she did, as I’ve been saying.” His stare made its way back to you, and you had to fight your instincts to keep from backing down.

“To be fair,” Loki continued, “most of Asgard didn’t know I’d taken over. I’m quite a good impersonator, if I do say so myself.”

Thor turned around and hushed his brother, then faced your father once more. “I ended his rouse just before Odin ascended to Valhalla. And, as his heir, I am King.”

Your father sat forward in his throne, pushing himself slowly to the edge of the seat as he continued to lean out. You thought he might stand, but he didn’t. He glared, his eyes so bright you thought he might ignite Thor’s tunic, despite it being thick leather. “You are King of nothing, Odinson,” he said. “King of Travelers, Refugees, and Tricksters.”

Thor dropped his arms to his sides. You could just barely see the redness in his neck rise, but you didn’t dare focus on him entirely. Your father was just as sly as Loki fancied himself, you knew. You had to keep your eyes on him for your plan to work.

“Your Kingdom is no good to me,” your father spat. “My Daughter has offered services she has no place in giving. She is far too late on delivering what’s been asked of her, and her word means nothing.”

You were tired of hearing him speak, but you knew all too well what would happen if you stepped forward and tried to stop him. He’d likely disintegrate you, or something along those lines. You’d seen it happen before, to a brother you hardly knew. Being a ruler for so long meant your father would tolerate absolutely no derision or discord.

You bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood, but stood your ground anyway.

“What would you make of us, then?” Thor asked, his body like a boulder as he stood tall and heated beside you.

Your father smirked, pushed himself back into his seat, and shrugged. “You are not many,” he said. Your eyes widened before he went on with: “It won’t be hard for us to rid ourselves of the Asgardian trash.”

Thor lunged, and immediately four guards pounced on him, holding him back with all their might. His fingers glowed, as did his eye, with the might of the lightning he wielded. You shook your head, your heart racing now. Maybe you couldn’t go up against your father yourself, but you could at least try to follow through on your promises to Thor.

“Father, please,” you yelled, moving around the guards to approach the throne. More guards pushed past the crowd around you, but they stayed back. “These people are without home. They are scholars and merchants and soldiers. They contribute to society - but they need a society to thrive in. How could you turn your back on them?”

Even sitting, he seemed to tower over you, as if he’d made himself larger in an instant. “I am not turning my back on them,” he said. “I’m turning my back on you. After all, you brought the rabble in.” He looked at Thor as he said, “Perhaps I should dispose of you, too, Daughter. You’ve proven to be...quite ineffective.”

You’d heard him say something to that effect to a sister of yours decades before. She disappeared in the night, only to turn up in the sewers a week later, her neck slashed and many of her bones broken needlessly.

You took a step back and desperately grabbed for anything that might save you. “Your Grace,” you said. “What if…” You looked over your shoulder and saw you’d moved back closer to Thor than you’d meant. He was still bound by the guards, his face a hard stone of rage as he looked from you to your father. You hadn’t brought him here for this. You’d wanted to offer him peace - to offer his people a chance to live. You’d wanted him to join the court… And that might be the thought that saved you.

“What if the Odinsons joined our court,” you said, turning back to your father.

He rose an eyebrow at you, but not in any sign malice. “What benefit does that offer me?” he asked.

“It gives you command of their armies, who defeated Hela and escaped Ragnarök,” you said. You stepped forward once more, a sudden surge of courage overtaking you with your next words. “It gives you what you asked for: you rule Asgard if the King and Prince hold positions equal to mine. And,” you stopped just before the first step to his dias, smiling now, though you did admit to yourself that it felt odd. “The Nine Realms will see you as the King that accepted the downtrodden people of Asgard into his keeping. You’ll be revered for your generosity and feared for your military prowess. Is that not what you were seeking when you gave me the quest to bring you Asgard in the first place?”

He propped himself on one elbow and seemed to think. The room went silent - even Thor stopped thrashing in the grasp of the guards as your father contemplated. He took his sweet time, and during that span, you made a mental note to meet with the new Asgardian members of the court in absolute secret later.

You had plans, and your father was giving you time to work them out, even if he didn’t know it. Maybe he did. Maybe he expected you to plot against him. You were going to have to be compliant and stealthy. You needed spies and resources, secret means of communications and-

He nodded. “The Asgardian refugees may stay, if their King relinquishes his power to me by joining my court. I’ll decide how much power to attribute to him over time,” your father said. You heard Thor grunt behind you, and the armor of the guards rustle, but you refused to turn until your father dismissed you. There had to be a catch, you knew. There was always a catch. “Until such time, however,” he said, looking down at you. “You, Daughter, are responsible for our new...guests. Their actions will reflect on you. Is that understood?”

Without hesitation, you said, “Yes. Thank you, Your Grace.”

Before anyone else could offer reasonable doubt or voice their discontent, your father waved you off. “Go. I have important matters to attend to.”

You bowed once again, then turned and ushered the guards to bring your new party back into the corridor. When everyone had exited the throne room and the doors were shut behind you, you turned to one of the guards and said, “Ready my suite. I’ll be hosting our new guests indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely,” you heard Loki mumble.

You looked at him - no, glared at him, then nodded to the guard. He gave orders to the other guards, and then they left you in the hall with just your new Asgardian responsibility.

When you were sure you were as alone as you would get in an open corridor, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the keys to the cuffs three out of four of them were still wearing. You held them out to Thor, who was still red-faced and looked indignantly at you. You waved the keys at him and said, “Release them.”

“I’m not your lackey, girl,” he spat.

You deserved that, and for a second, you just stared at him. But then you sighed, pulled on one of his hands, and put the key in his palm before he had the chance to wretch away from you. “You’re right, Thunder God. You’re my guests, but I get the feeling not a single one of you trust that I’ll actually free you.”

“You’re just scared we’ll beat your ass to a bloody pulp,” the Valkyrie said. Her brows were furrowed into a deep crevice in the center of her forehead.

Thor seemed to ignore her, first going to the Midgardian Hulk to undo his cuffs.

You shrugged. “Perhaps,” you said. “But the thing is...you need me.”

The not-green Hulk threw his head back and laughed. “Right! Good one,” he said. He tapped Thor on the shoulder and said, “This girl’s crazy and hilarious.”

You stared at him as he moved, watching as Thor shrugged the hand from his shoulder before going to the Valkyrie to undo her cuffs next. “I’m...not joking,” you said, placing your hands on your hips subconsciously.

“The thing is, you need us too,” Loki said. He held his hands out for Thor expectantly, but he stared right at you.

“I do,” you said. “In more ways than you know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Thor asked. “And how are we to trust the woman who attacked us in our most desperate hour?”

“We don’t even know her name,” the Hulk said.

“(Y/N),” you offered, glancing at his fleshy, remarkably not-green appearance. Then you focused back on Thor as he came back to stand between you and his cohort. You admired that of him, even if you’d never say so. He protected them when, clearly, they could do the job themselves - after all, they’d all survived Hela. They could survive your father, too, especially if they trusted you. But that would take work. Lots of work.

“You haven’t answer either of my questions,” Thor said. Despite having one eye, his glare was the most intense.

“Not by omission, Thunder God,” you said. “This hallway is not the ideal place for introductions.”

“It never is,” Loki muttered, as if you were meant to understand that. It didn’t seem important, so you let the comment go.

“Is anyone hungry?” you asked.

“Starving,” the Hulk said.

“I’m not eating anything she doesn’t eat first,” the Valkyrie said.

You smirked. “That’s fair. Now, come. Let me show you your new home. First meal’s on me.”

[dfroza]

the body has become the Temple of the Spirit of our Creator

and we carry this treasure of Light in our ordinary selves, becoming weathered & worn on the outside, yet continually renewed deep within.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 6th chapter of the Letter of First Corinthians where Paul begins with stating his case of resolving disputes among believers and concludes with the topic of sex:

Furthermore, how dare you take a fellow believer to court! It is wrong to drag him before the unrighteous to settle a legal dispute. Isn’t it better to take him before God’s holy believers to settle the matter? Don’t you realize that we, the holy ones, will judge the universe? If the unbelieving world is under your jurisdiction, you should be fully competent to settle these trivial lawsuits among yourselves. For surely you know that we will one day judge angels, let alone these everyday matters. Don’t you realize that you are bringing your issues before civil judges appointed by people who have no standing within the church? What a shame that there is not one within the church who has the spirit of wisdom who could arbitrate these disputes and reconcile the offended parties! It’s not right for a believer to sue a fellow believer—and especially to bring it before the unbelievers.

Don’t you realize that when you drag another believer into court you’re providing the evidence that you are already defeated? Wouldn’t it be better to accept the fact that someone is trying to cheat and take advantage of you, and simply choose the high road? At times it is better to just accept injustice and even to let someone take advantage of you, rather than to expose our conflicts publicly before unbelievers. But instead you keep cheating and doing wrong to your brothers and sisters, and then request that unbelievers render their judgment!

Surely you must know that people who practice evil cannot possess God’s kingdom realm. Stop being deceived! People who continue to engage in sexual immorality, idolatry, adultery, sexual perversion, homosexuality, fraud, greed, drunkenness, verbal abuse, or extortion—these will not inherit God’s kingdom realm. It’s true that some of you once lived in those lifestyles, but now you have been purified from sin, made holy, and given a perfect standing before God—all because of the power of the name of the Lord Jesus, the Messiah, and through our union with the Spirit of our God.

It’s true that our freedom allows us to do anything, but that doesn’t mean that everything we do is good for us. I’m free to do as I choose, but I choose to never be enslaved to anything. Some have said, “I eat to live and I live to eat!” But God will do away with it all. The body was not created for illicit sex, but to serve and worship our Lord Jesus, who can fill the body with himself.

Now the God who raised up our Lord from the grave will awaken and raise us up through his mighty power!

Don’t you know that your bodies belong to Christ as his body parts? Should one presume to take the members of Christ’s body and make them into members of a harlot? Absolutely not! Aren’t you aware of the fact that when anyone sleeps with a prostitute he becomes a part of her, and she becomes a part of him? For it has been declared:

The two become a single body.

But the one who joins himself to the Lord is mingled into one spirit with him. This is why you must keep running away from sexual immorality. For every other sin a person commits is external to the body, but immorality involves sinning against your own body.

Have you forgotten that your body is now the sacred temple of the Spirit of Holiness, who lives in you? You don’t belong to yourself any longer, for the gift of God, the Holy Spirit, lives inside your sanctuary. You were God’s expensive purchase, paid for with tears of blood, so by all means, then, use your body to bring glory to God!

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 6 (The Passion Translation)

to be accompanied by these lines from The Message:

There’s more to sex than mere skin on skin. Sex is as much spiritual mystery as physical fact. As written in Scripture, “The two become one.” Since we want to become spiritually one with the Master, we must not pursue the kind of sex that avoids commitment and intimacy, leaving us more lonely than ever—the kind of sex that can never “become one.” There is a sense in which sexual sins are different from all others. In sexual sin we violate the sacredness of our own bodies, these bodies that were made for God-given and God-modeled love, for “becoming one” with another. Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 6:16-20 (The Message)

our Creator designed sex and the human body made in the gender of both male & female which takes shape at the genesis spark of conception in the womb. sex forms two bodies into “One” body which is actually the marital bond of husband & wife and this is the only “safe” sex on earth, being a sacred bond of intimacy shared that is meant to remain faithful for a whole lifetime.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 41st chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah where God speaks of restoring his people and also speaking against idols of metal that some trust in:

Eternal One: Keep quiet and listen to Me, lands along the seacoast;

give the people of the nations a chance to regain their strength.

Let them come close, all together, to speak their minds and present their case;

let’s consider the facts and make a judgment.

Who brought up this eastern hero? Who called up his justice service?

He lays nations at his feet and makes an end of their kings.

With a thrust of his sword and the bend of his bow,

this hero turns kings and their armies into dust.

With agility and speed unmatched, he chases them down

and is himself unscathed, even though he is passing over unfamiliar land.

Who has performed these deeds and accomplished this purpose?

Who calls each generation into being from the first on down?

It is I, the Eternal One your God.

I am the first.

And to the very last, I am the One.

The lands along the seacoast have seen and are scared.

The ends of earth take to shaking and yet still they draw near.

They try to bolster each other up saying,

“Have courage, brother, have courage!”

Recognizing their mutual dependence, the artisan encourages the goldsmith;

the one who hammers the metal emboldens the one who welds,

Saying, “Looks good! Fine job!” and fastens the idols together with nails,

making it stand firm and stable.

Eternal One: But you, My servant, Israel,

Jacob whom I have chosen and descendant of My friend, Abraham,

I have reached to wherever you are in the farthest corners of earth,

and the most hidden places therein.

I have called to you and said, “You are my servant.

I have chosen you, not thrown you away!”

So don’t be afraid. I am here, with you;

don’t be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, help you.

I am here with My right hand to make right and to hold you up.

Look, everyone who hated you and sought to do you wrong

will be embarrassed and confused.

Whoever challenged you with hot-headed bluster

will become as if they never were, and nevermore will be.

You may go looking for them, but you won’t find them;

because those who tried to fight with you will become as if they never were.

After all, it is I, the Eternal One your God,

who has hold of your right hand,

Who whispers in your ear, “Don’t be afraid. I will help you.”

So don’t be afraid, Jacob, though you are nothing but a worm.

People of Israel, you little bug, you have nothing to fear.

Eternal One: I will help you. I am One who saves you,

the Holy One of Israel.

I will turn you into a formidable threshing sledge

with brand new sharp blades that will mow down entire mountains

and turn the hills into chaff.

You will separate value from waste, and a great wind

and a strong storm will take away what is useless and unimportant.

You will take joy in the Eternal.

You will glow with pride in the Holy One of Israel.

And when people thirst, when those poor souls with parched tongues

look in vain for something to drink,

I, the Eternal, the God of Israel, won’t leave them to suffer. I will respond

By making the hard, brown hills sparkle with streams of fresh water

and causing valleys to come alive with springs.

I will see that gentle pools wait on the desert floor for the weary traveler,

and great fountains bubble up from dry ground;

In the desert, I will plant cedars, woody acacias,

myrtles, and olive trees.

I will establish great cypresses to flourish in the desert places,

plant oaks and pine trees side by side.

They’ll see all this and understand. They’ll ponder together

and come to know that it is the power of the Eternal One that produced this.

They will know that the Holy One of Israel created it.

Eternal One: Present your case. Lay out your arguments

and call your witnesses to appear before the King of Jacob.

Come on and bring your idols. Now tell us what is to come,

and while you’re at it, tell us what happened before.

Can you explain to us so that we, too, may understand?

Go ahead, tell us what the future holds.

Surely you can, if you are truly gods. Do good, or do bad.

Just do something—anything—to amaze or frighten us.

Sure enough, you are not gods; you are nothing at all.

You have nothing to show for your work or yourselves.

Fools! Only fools would choose you to be their god. Detestable.

Eternal One: I, the Lord, I have called up for service

one from the north, and he comes from the rising sun

and he will invoke My name.

He will render rulers like mud under his shoes,

trampling them down like so much clay.

Did any of you gods tell us about this long ago, so we would know?

Did any of you indicate to us that we might agree, “He is right”?

No, no one told us. No one made an announcement, and no one hears what you say.

I was the first to say to Zion, “Look, here they are!”

I sent a messenger to announce the good news to Jerusalem.

But I am looking, and there isn’t anyone.

I have asked around, and no one knows, no one can tell Me.

See here, all of these so-called gods are false;

their works are nothing;

These cast-metal images are like wind, sheer emptiness.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 41 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, july 19 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that takes a look at divine hope:

Shalom chaverim. This week we will study parashat Vaetchanan (Deut. 3:23-7:11), a rich Torah portion that includes some of the most foundational texts of the Jewish Scriptures, including the Ten Commandments, the Shema (the duty to love God and study His Torah), as well as the commandments of tefillin and mezuzot. In addition, in this portion Moses predicted the worldwide exile and the eventual redemption of the Jewish people in acharit hayamim (the prophesied "End of Days").

We always read this Torah portion on the Sabbath that follows the fast of Tishah B'Av, called Shabbat Nachamu (שבת נחמו), the "Sabbath of Comfort," since the haftarah speaks about God's future consolation in the coming kingdom of God ("Comfort, O comfort, my people [Isa. 40:1]). With the advent of this special Sabbath, we have just seven weeks to prepare for the new year (i.e, Yom Teruah or “Rosh Hashanah”) and the High Holidays - a “jubilee” season that heralds the return of Yeshua... In addition to our Torah readings, on the 15th day of the month of Av we observe chag ha-ahavah (חַג הָאַהֲבָה), or "the holiday of love." Since it marks the "last" festival of the Jewish year, prophetically the 15th of Av (called Tu B’Av) pictures our marriage to the Lamb of God (Seh Elohim), the LORD Yeshua our beloved Messiah. On a soon-coming day those who belong to the LORD and are faithful to follow His ways will be blessed with the unspeakable joy of an eternally intimate relationship with Him. This is heaven itself - to be in the Presence of the LORD and to be regarded as His beloved (Rev. 19:6-9). Maranatha. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.19.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 19, 2021

When the Foundations Are Destroyed

“If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (Psalm 11:3)

The word here for “foundations” is not the usual word for, say, a building foundation. Used rarely, a better translation of this word would be “purpose,” or “basis.” The fear expressed is not that the foundations of our faith might be undermined but that we might lose our sense of purpose.

In the context of the psalm, David was in danger of becoming demoralized by the pressures of wicked desires and evil ambitions all around him, and Christians surely have the same problem today. Why should we try to maintain high standards of doctrinal integrity and moral purity when the people around us—even most Christians—seem to be occupied mostly with materialistic ambition and pursuit of pleasure? If we allow the devil to undermine the very purposes God has for our lives, wandering away from His will in favor of some temporal interest, then why even continue with a pretense of Christian living?

David’s solution was simply to remind himself that “the LORD is in his holy temple, the LORD’s throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men” (v. 4). He may allow the righteous to be tried for a season, but we must not forget that “the righteous LORD loveth righteousness” (v. 7) and that “the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth” (v. 5).

When we are tempted to wonder whether it is really worth all the effort, and when our very foundation and purpose for living seems to be crumbling, we should remember that our God is Creator, Sustainer, and Judge of all—that He still is on His throne, and that we who belong to Him have been “predestinated according to the purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will” (Ephesians 1:11). HMM

[seekfirstme]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2020. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.net

Meditation: What do you do when someone you love very dearly and miss very much has been gone a very long time but promises to return soon? Do you ignore their absence, or do you anticipate their return and send them messages to let them know how much you long to be with them again? Jesus' parable about the long-expected return of the Master to his household brings this point home.

Parable of the watchful servants waiting for the master's return

Wealthy landowners often left their estates in the hands of their trustworthy servants and stewards. This gave them freedom to travel, trade, and expand their business ventures. They expected loyalty and hard work from their servants and rewarded them accordingly. Dutiful servants would eagerly anticipate their master's return by keeping the house and estate in good order. Jesus doesn't tell us in his parable whether the servants were ready to receive the unexpected return of their master. Were these servants excited or anxious about their master's return? The watchful servants, no doubt, looked forward to the future because they knew their master would be pleased and would reward them for their vigilance and hard work. Disaster and reprisal, however, awaited those who were unprepared because of carelessness or laziness.

Watching with hopeful expectation and vigilance for Christ's return

When we expect some very important event to happen, we often wait for it with excited anticipation. The Lord Jesus expects us to watch in great anticipation for the most important event of all - his return in glory at the end of this present age! The Old Testament prophets foretold the coming of the Lord when he shall judge between the nations and decide for many peoples (Isaiah 2:5).

The Advent season reminds us that we are living in the end times. The end times begin with the first coming of Christ (when the Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us - John 1:14) and it culminates in Christ's second coming on the Day of Judgment and vindication for his people. Jesus spoke of his return in glory at the close of the ages as an indisputable fact and predetermined act which he will perform as the Judge and Ruler of all peoples, nations, and individuals who ever lived on the earth.

"May your kingdom come!"

While the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ is for certain, the time of his appearance is not yet disclosed. The Lord's day of visitation and judgment will come swiftly and unexpectedly. Jesus warns his listeners to not be caught off guard when that day arrives. It will surely come in God's good time! The Lord invites us to pray for the coming of his kingdom into our present lives and future as well. Jesus taught his disciples to pray - "may your kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in heaven" (Matthew 6:10). Do you earnestly pray for the coming of God's kingdom - both now and at the end of the world?

The Lord will reward those who wait for him

The prophet Isaiah tells us that God will surely reward those who wait for his visitation: "From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who works for those who wait for him" (Isaiah 64:4). Our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, has entrusted us with his gifts and graces (his abundant favors and blessings). He expects us to make good use of the gifts and resources he gives us for his glory and for the benefit of helping and blessing others as well. He does not want us to use the present time we have here on earth in idleness or wasted living. He has work for us to do - loving, honoring,and serving him and loving, honoring, and serving our families, neighbors, and communities as well.

How do we watch and wait for the Lord's coming?

How does the Lord want us to be watchful and vigilant for his return? The kind of watching the Lord has in mind is not a passive "wait and see what happens" approach to life. The Lord urges us to vigilance and to active prayer that his "kingdom may come" and his "will be done on earth as it is in heaven". We are not only to watch for Christ, but to watch with Christ. The Lord wants us to have our hearts and minds fixed on him and his word. He wants us to be ready for his action and work of grace in our lives and in our world. Those who "wait" for the Lord will not be disappointed. He will surely come with his grace and saving help. Do you watch for the Lord's action in your life with expectant faith and with joyful hope?

The season of Advent is a time for rousing our minds and hearts for the Lord's coming. As his servants we watch for his will - continually seeking him. We watch for his word and his power - that he may act now to save and to deliver. And we watch for his visitation - he will surely come again! Servants of the Lord rouse yourselves! Be vigilant, be alert, be "watchmen" for the Lord pointing the way for his coming.

"Lord Jesus, awaken my heart and mind to receive your word and to prepare for your coming again. Free me from complacency, from the grip of sin and worldliness, and from attachments to things which pass away. May I always be eager to receive your word and be ready to meet you when you come again."

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2020.

WAITING AND WATCHING

“What I say to you, I say to all: Be on guard!” ––Mark 13:37

Welcome to Advent. Christmas is near! Advent is a time of preparation for the coming of the Lord. We begin a new liturgical year with anticipation and hope. This sounds encouraging, but “we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean men, all our good deeds are like polluted rags” (Is 64:4-5). It hurts to look in the mirror!

Fortunately, God refuses to abandon His wounded children. “Yet, O Lord, You are our Father; we are the clay and You the potter: we are all the work of Your hands” (Is 64:7). If we are repentant and open to His grace, interior renovation follows. In this reconstruction project, we also have heavenly helpers. St. Paul prays, “I continually thank my God for you because of the favor He has bestowed on you in Christ Jesus” (1 Cor 1:4).

Therefore, our duty isn’t to agonize over sin or become self-loathing. Rather, God directs us to focus on our “own task” (Mk 13:34). This allows us to take a deep breath and fulfill our unique role — and stop trying to be something we are not. The Body of Christ functions best when each member exercises his or her own God-given gifts. We then allow the Holy Spirit to mold us into virtuous disciples.

Now we’re better prepared for Christ’s coming: both His coming as a Babe in Bethlehem and His return at the end of time. “Be constantly on the watch! Stay awake! You do not know when the appointed time will come” (Mk 13:33).

Prayer:  Father, make Advent my season of transformation.

Promise:  “He will strengthen you to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.” ––1 Cor 1:8

Praise:  “The One Who gives this testimony says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon!’ Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rv 22:20)

Reference:  (This teaching was submitted by a member of our editorial team.)

Rescript:  "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for One Bread, One Body covering the period from October 1, 2020 through November 30, 2020. Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio February 25, 2020"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

[tpanan]

My Sunday Daily Blessings

November 29, 2020

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the  LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........                                                                                                                                                              

First Sunday of Advent (Catholic Observance) Lectionary: 2

First Reading: Isaiah 63: 16b-17, 19b; 64: 2-7

You, LORD, are our father, our redeemer you are named forever. Why do you let us wander, O LORD, from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not?

Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage. Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from of old. No ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him. Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in our ways! Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean people, all our good deeds are like polluted rags; we have all withered like leaves, and our guilt carries us away like the wind. There is none who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to cling to you; for you have hidden your face from us and have delivered us up to our guilt. Yet, O LORD, you are our father; we are the clay and you the potter: we are all the work of your hands.

Responsorial Psalm:  Psalm 80: 2-3, 15-16, 18-19

"Lord, make us turn to you; let us see your face and we shall be saved."

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1: 3-9

Brothers and sisters: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always on your account for the grace of God bestowed on you in Christ Jesus, that in him you were enriched in every way, with all discourse and all knowledge, as the testimony to Christ was confirmed among you, so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ.

He will keep you firm to the end, irreproachable on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Verse before the Gospel: Psalm 85: 8

R. Alleluia, Alleluia.

"Show us Lord, your love; and grant us your salvation."

R. Alleluia, Alleluia.

**Gospel:  Mark 13: 33-37

Jesus said to his disciples: “Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. It is like a man traveling abroad. He leaves home and places his servants in charge, each with his own work, and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch. Watch, therefore; you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming, whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning. May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’”

*Meditation:  

Do you allow the love of Christ, who is your Lord and King, to rule in your heart? Augustine of Hippo (354-430 A.D.) said, "Essentially, there are two kinds of people, because there are two kinds of love. One is holy, the other is selfish. One is subject to God; the other endeavors to equal Him." Jesus came not only to fulfill the law of righteousness (Leviticus 19), but to transform it through his unconditional love and mercy towards us.

The Lord Jesus proved his love for us by offering up his life on the cross as the atoning sacrifice for our sins. His death brings freedom and life for us - freedom from fear, selfishness, and greed - and new abundant life in the Holy Spirit who fills our hearts with the love of God (Romans 5:5). Do you allow God's love to purify your heart and transform your mind to think, act, and love others as the Lord Jesus has taught through word and example?

The lesson of separating goats and sheep at the end of the day Jesus' description of the "Son of Man", a Messianic title which points to the coming of God's anointed Ruler and Judge over the earth (John 5:26-29, Daniel 7:13ff), and his parable about the separation of goats and sheep must have startled his audience. What does the separation of goats and sheep have to do with the Day of God's Judgement over the earth? In arid dry lands such as Palestine, goats and sheep often grazed together during the day because green pasture was sparse. At nightfall, when the shepherd brought the sheep and goats to their place of rest, he separated them into two groups. Goats by temperament are aggressive, domineering, restless, and territorial. They butt heads with their horns whenever they think someone is intruding on their space.

Goats came to symbolize evil and the expression "scape-goat" become a common expression for someone bearing blame or guilt for others. (See Leviticus 26:20-22 for a description of the ritual expulsion of a sin-bearing goat on the Day of Atonement.) Jesus took our guilt and sins upon himself and nailed them to the cross. He payed the price to set us free from sin and death. Our choice is either to follow and obey him as our Lord and Savior or to be our own master and go our own separate way apart from God's way of truth and righteousness (moral goodness).

We cannot remain neutral or indifferent to the commands of Christ. If we do not repent of our wrongdoing (our sins and offenses against God and neighbor) and obey the Gospel we cannot be disciples of the Lord Jesus nor inherit his kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy. Separation of the good from the bad is inevitable because one way leads to sin, rebellion, and death and the other way leads to purification, peace, and everlasting life with God.

Love of God frees us from inordinate love of self The parable of the goats and sheep has a similar endpoint as the parable of the rich man who refused to give any help to the poor man Lazarus who begged daily at the rich man's doorstep (Luke 16:19-31). Although Lazarus was poor and lacked what he needed, he nonetheless put his hope in God and the promise of everlasting life in God's kingdom. The rich man was a lover of wealth rather than a lover of God and neighbor. When Lazarus died he was carried by the angels to Abraham's bosom to receive his reward in heaven. When the rich man died his fortunes were reversed and he was cast into the unquenchable fires of hell to receive his just desserts. The parable emphasizes the great chasm and wall of separation between the former rich man held now bound as a poor and miserable prisoner in hell and Lazarus clothed in royal garments feasting at God's banquet table in the kingdom of heaven.

The day of God's righteous judgment will disclose which kind of love we chose in this present life - a holy unselfish love directed to God and to the welfare of our neighbor or a disordered and selfish love that puts oneself above God and the good of our neighbor.

When Martin of Tours (316-397 AD), a young Roman soldier who had been reluctant to fully commit his life to Christ and be baptized as a Christian, met a poor beggar on the road who had no clothes to warm himself in the freezing cold, Martin took pity on him. He immediately got off his horse and cut his cloak in two and then gave half to the stranger. That night Martin dreamt he saw a vision of Jesus in heaven robed in a torn cloak just like the one he gave away that day to the beggar. One of the angels next to Jesus asked, "Master, why do you wear that battered cloak?" Jesus replied, "My servant Martin gave it to me." Martin's disciple and biographer Sulpicius Severus states that as a consequence of this vision "Martin flew to be baptized" to give his life fully to Christ as a member of his people - the body of Christ on earth and the communion of saints and angels in heaven.

Augustine of Hippo (354-430 A.D.) wrote, "Christ is at once above and below - above in Himself, below in his people. Fear Christ above, and recognize him below. Here he is poor, with and in the poor; there he is rich, with and in God. Have Christ above bestowing his bounty; recognize him here in his need" (excerpt from Sermon 123, 44).

On the day of judgment Jesus will ask "whom did you love"? When the Lord Jesus comes again as Judge and Ruler over all, he will call each one of us to stand before his seat of judgment to answer the question - who did you love and put first in this life? Inordinate love of self crowds out love of God and love of neighbor. Those who put their faith in Jesus Christ and follow his way of love and righteousness will not be disappointed. They will receive the just reward - life and peace with God in his everlasting kingdom.

If we entrust our lives to the Lord Jesus today, and allow his Holy Spirit to purify our hearts and minds, then he will give us the grace, strength, and freedom to walk and live each day in the power of his merciful love and goodness. Let us entrust our lives into the hands of the merciful Savior who gave his life for us. And let us ask the Lord Jesus to increase our faith, strengthen our hope, and enkindle in us the fire of his merciful love and compassion for all.

Lord Jesus, be the Master and Ruler of my life. May your love rule in my heart that I may only think, act, and speak with charity and good will for all.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, Copyright © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain © 1968, 1981, 1997, International Committee on English in the Liturgy, Inc. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source at dailyscripture.servantsoftheword.org 

[renlyisright]

Season 8 Episode 4 - ...And What Comes After

Turns out that the great price you get for saving the world is for the word to continue just like it was. I’m not sure if this is a positive message, but remembering what Ramsay said about the happy endings, it may have been the best thing to hope for.

It’s snowing here. The winter is upon us once again. Good thing that here it doesn’t mean mythological monsters coming with the cold.

In Westeros the monsters have been defeated, and the entire world is no longer under existential threat. Time to mourn the dead and celebrate.

Last time I didn’t say anything about Jorah Mormont’s death. The post was running long, and I didn’t want to write an eulogy because I wasn’t sure that he actually died. I have been wrong before. For example, Ghost did survive. If we saw him running back from the Dead I missed it, and so declared him dead too early. Turns out he actually was just out of the frame the whole time.

But Jorah. He had a backstory of having a bad marriage and ending up selling slaves (”Things we do for love”), and getting banished from Westeros by Ned Stark. All of that was in the backstory, told by him telling his story (and other characters mentioning the slaver part). Since it hasn’t come up much since the story was first told, it hasn’t been on my mind when watching the character. Jaime did his worst deeds right on screen, Jorah’s bad stuff was in his backstory.

Okay, there was that time he came to Daenerys’ service originally just to sell her to Robert for a pardon, but he regretted it immediately once the first assassin arrived, and has served only her since. He kidnapped Tyrion, with whom he had no personal grievance (until he had spent long enough listening to him), but wanted to buy a pardon from Daenerys by offering her someone threatening her crown. Ooh, nice parallel. And another: Again he was taking someone’s freedom to get something for a woman he loved. Then he ended up as a slave himself. Maybe the people he sold ended up in a similar situation. After that he was out on the fields searching for Daenerys, and after that searching for a cure for grayscale, so we didn’t get any comment from him about abolishing slavery that would have mentioned his backstory, and him having taken part of benefitting from the bad system they were removing.

But his slaving days were all in the backstory, and after seasons full of events that are themselves hard to keep track of (who was whose ally back then? Who betrayed whom? Did these two meet before and what did they say?), the events that happened long before the first episode seem less relevant. Daenerys has allied herself with every family that was part of Robert’s rebellion, except the Baratheons themselves, who are no more. Even the one Lannister who actually killed her father is now in her in-group. The historical reasons don’t matter narratively anymore, the important stuff is what people have done on screen.

After the smelly funeral and Jon’s speech of everybody having set aside their differences, it’s time for the afterparty. People drink, eat, love and Daenerys gives out titles she doesn’t have yet. I said that Baratheons are no more, but Daenerys gives the name to Gendry, and names him the lawful son of Robert Baratheon. If the “true heir”-hullabaloo of Jon and Daenerys doesn’t end up being a big enough mess, there’s that line back in business now as well.

Davos speaks with my mouth and complains to Tyrion about the Lord of Light. He told them to do what he said, they fought and died, and died, and finally won, and what now? Melisandre died as well and now he’s quiet. How do they know he didn’t plan everything this way and now Cersei has an easier job of killing them all? “I don’t imagine thinking about that subject will leave you any happier than before”, Tyrion answers. And I think that’s my cue to drop the subject too.

The first half hour is the celebration. The war is not over, but here and now, they are alive. The last episode is unlikely to end with even this sort of good feeling, or with this much time to spare for small moments, so better celebrate now. Some don’t get what they want, both Tormund and Gendry get their courting rejected, and Daenerys feels like an outsider, and that her queenship in Westeros has been poisoned by Jon’s revelation.

She wants him to promise that he’ll never tell anyone, and have Samwell and Bran promise it too. But Jon feels like he owes the truth to Sansa and Arya.

Why?

Like, I do like honesty, but at this point telling the truth benefits them absolutely nada, if you don’t want anyone to start thinking game-of-throney, and Jon absolutely doesn’t. If he continues to be Jon Snow, and marries Daenerys, and so gives her the public relation benefits of being married to the saviour of the North and leaves the ruling of the North to the Starks, who will be good allies because of Jon… what benefit is there in telling Sansa or Arya about his parents? Bran can tell them that he saw the past and Lyanna and Rhaegon actually loved each other, and never mention any baby which nobody knows about. Lying by omission can be done if someone’s hat is really ugly, and especially if saying it aloud could start another civil war.

So Jon goes and says it aloud. But before it he sworns them to secrecy. Which lasts for five minutes, and before the end of the episode Tyrion and Varys know about it as well, and start game-of-throneing the situation. Nice job, Jon.

The morning after the celebration, there’s a hungover war council. The list of casualties includes half of everyone. That actually sounds small, considering how small the last pockets of resistance were at the end of the battle.

News from afar tells that Yara succeeded and has taken command of the Iron Islands. No idea how, but Euron coming back after a long absence, only to spend his kingly time on Cersei’s lap and fighting her wars must have been one rallying point. It’s not like Yara has a much better track record, but if you raise your butt, your seat gets taken, that’s the rule.

And Dorne’s new prince has re-allied Dorne with Daenerys. Maybe this time they’ll actually come to battle. I doubt it, there’s no time and who is this “New Prince of Dorne” anyway?

The plan is to siege King’s Landing and tell the people that once Cersei is out, nothing bad will happen to them. Missandei’s point that they’ll get sympathy points for saving the world gets shot down, as people won’t believe them and Cersei can turn the tall-tales against them. Sure the maesters will believe once enough of them see the battlegrounds. There will likely be scientific expeditions to study everything about the battle, the Wall and the enemy, but to the good people of King’s Landing, what does it matter?

Or more importantly, the bannermen. If enough of them call it quits, Cersei’s rule ends there. But when she blew up the sept, they rewarded her with the throne, so I’m not putting much faith there.

The plans are made, Jon’s secret revealed and the army leaves soon. Before that, Tyrion and Jaime get a visitor. Bronn has come all the way up north to see them. He gives out a rant of how he has served the Lannisters, who promise a lot, sure, but that’s all he gets, promises and empty titles. I enjoy this Bronn, more of him please. No nonsense, no listening to “power resides where people think it resides”-speeches, in a couple of minutes he gets them to promise him the Reach. Another Lannister promise of course, their reputation for paying their debts has been overblown. I especially liked Bronn’s point about how the great houses all started with someone who was good at killing. “Kill a few hundred, they make you a lord. Kill a few thousand, they make you a king”. Having Bronn in the Tyrells’ old place would be sad, I’m not that sure how good he would be in the actual ruling, but at this point it’s whatever. Will they even live long enough for that to matter?

Arya and the Hound leave on their own, they both have “unfinished business” in the capital. The Hound is going to duel the Mountain, and Arya will try to take out Cersei. Which makes me realize: The allied side has a Faceless assassin, who has already managed to wreck the Frey house. Seems like the easiest option to remove Cersei without having to dig her out of the Red Keep. Arya could even play-act Cersei afterwards and forfeit the throne peacefully. Seems easy enough for her, why not try that first before attacking?

Because only she and Sansa know that she can do that. And they know how to keep secrets better than Jon.

Sansa and Tyrion have a talk. Sansa doesn’t trust Daenerys, but she doesn’t trust anyone that much these days. And she knows that Daenerys knows that Jon may be a problem for her claim. Sure they may wuuv each other, but in Sansa’s experience, that hasn’t stopped anyone from doing awful things. So she lets Tyrion on the secret. To have him notice in time if Daenerys wants to deal with the problematic claim with force? Or to have the idea of Jon being the better choice for a ruler, more electable, to simmer in Daenerys’ court member’s minds? That ends up happening, so points to her if that was her goal.

Daenerys’ coalition is so wide that it has problems keeping itself steady long enough to get a hit on Cersei. Cersei’s side doesn’t have that problem, it’s just promising the spoils of war left and right.

Farewells. Tormund says that he’s going to take the wildlings back beyond the Wall. “They need room to wander”, he says, and there’s a lot of free real estate there now. Jon asks him to take Ghost with him. So Ghost actually got the end I hoped for him; he’ll live out there in the wild, just out of frame. I’m happy.

As it’s very unlikely that the action will come back North anymore, this is the end of the show for the wildlings. Many, many, many of them are dead, but the people known as wildlings survive to populate their lands again, because of a) the gathering up that Mance led, and b) the trust they had when Jon came to offer alliance. Without either, Beyond the Wall would be a very quiet place now. Hopefully they, the Night’s Watch and the North continue to have friendly terms in the future, it would make the Night’s Watch’s job much easier.

Farewells to Sam and Gilly too. It’s not impossible that they’ll show up closer to the action later, people move fast these days, but this seems like a happy end for them too… Argh, what am I doing, I’m foolishly lowering my guard. That’s just when the alien hiding in the shuttle makes a jump scare. 

Still two more episodes, then they and I can be at peace.

Speaking of sudden jump scares, Rhaegal gets hit with one just when entering the Dragonstone air space. While Daenerys was off saving the world, Euron has been busy mass-producing the black arrow throwers. Now his whole fleet has them, and as will be seen soon the King’s Landing has been filled with them too. So just as Daenerys predicted, Cersei spent the truce getting prepared for round two.

After the last episode, I wondered that, if the White Walkers appeared now in the 21st century, they would be easy enough to handle with modern technology and weaponry. Mass-produce obsidian-tipped bullets, and the whole army of the dead is gone before it gets a start. Or just bomb them. The dead didn’t know how to use any weapon more complicated than a sword. Like the Elves of Discworld, in the industrial revolution they are out of time. Would the same end result happen to dragons, if they arrived on Westeros a thousand years later?

Back to the episode. Rhaegal, who survived fighting the Dead, including another dragon, gets shot down unceremoniously. Pulling out a victory will not be that easy after all. As long as the enemy has Euron, who can apparently do just about whatever.

His ballistas seem to work by magic, as not only can they pierce a dragon’s hide, but also hit with the power of powder-powered cannons in ship-to-ship fight. Anyway, he gets away with destroying the fleet. Tyrion jumps to water, a mast falls on top of the camera and everything goes dark.

If this was the end of the episode, it would already have been a regular-length one (55 minutes at this point), but no, we are not ready yet. The survivors get to the shore, Varys and Tyrion included, but Missandei is captured.

She is brought to the capital, and oh hi, Cersei, long time no see. Cersei has opened the gates of the Red Keep for the good people of King’s Landing, so Daenerys can’t just melt the castle down. She is also going to go with her and Jaime’s child being actually hers and Euron’s. “XX Lannister, of golden hair…”

Rhaegal dying upped the tension, but doesn’t actually change much narratively. If Daenerys wants to burn down everything, she can do it as well with just one dragon as long as the story is on her side. The change is that there’s now proof that dragons can be killed with human weapons, and not just with Night King’s trustworthy shoulder. And that getting more dragons is now impossible, if it wasn’t before (I don’t remember their sexes, and if they were close relatives that information is lost to history).

Then it’s another round of the party game “Let’s try to talk Daenerys out of killing everybody”. Varys is very worried, and so is Tyrion. Daenerys agrees to make appropriate sounds of not wanting bloodshed and asking Cersei to surrender, but she sees no hope in it. In her mind, the only way forward now is to sack the city and dig Cersei out of the ruins of the Red Keep. If that’s the only way to remove a tyrant, then so be it.

Varys is very afraid that after all the scheming and planning he did to keep the Targaryen heirs alive and finally put one of them to the throne, he’s only found a new tyrant to replace another. To which I say that Cersei is currently the worst option and she is the one on the throne, so one problem at a time. Varys seems to be thinking that if they swapped Daenerys with Jon now, they would get more Southern lords to join them against Cersei, which Daenerys can’t do. But would Cersei forfeit the throne even in that case? No, she wouldn’t. So a siege would have to happen anyway until she is removed by force.

When Varys started the plan many years ago, why was he thinking that it would work and the Targaryen heirs would be better rulers than Robert, anyway? Because the exiled Targaryens had to beg and so would grow up more humble? Didn’t work with Viserys. Another question: Why then did he give up so easily and send the assassin when Robert ordered it, with no safeguards?

Varys’ days are numbered at this point. He has now spoken of treason aloud. Tyrion can’t possibly keep it secret from Daenerys if he’s afraid that Varys will act soon.

People keep talking like Cersei’s fall is a certainty. No matter that they just got their backsides handed to them, Tyrion, Varys and even Sansa seem to have no doubt that Daenerys will now just get more angry and bring down fire and blood on her enemies.

When Jaime realizes this, he looks into his heart, and finds Cersei there. The same woman who threatened to have him killed the last time he saw her, and actually sent an assassin after him when he did leave. And still Jaime thinks that that’s the person he wants to be with. Jenny Nicholson said once “Loving something unconditionally doesn’t mean that you love it more. You just love it sadder”.

Well, Jaime has half the continent to cross, and plenty of time to think. Maybe he should think before setting out to these long journeys.

The last debate begins, on the gates of King’s Landing. Everything is empty on this side of the walls, and the city itself gets only a short glimpse and is otherwise not seen.

Empty vista, just these royal characters talking to each other, mixing their personal dramas into a large soup. The people whose lives they are discussing are elsewhere, not seen. Earlier in the episode they were shown as little dots, pieces of play, to be moved from one place to another. 

Both sides show their Hands, but Tyrion does not find Qyburn cood talking company, and walks up to Cersei. She enjoys the chance to make him wonder if she would really shoot him there and then, but ends up not doing that. For now, killing the Dragon Queen’s dear advisor is enough cruelty for one day.

Tyrion tries to call on her self-preservation instincts, by promising safety for her and her child if she steps down. There’s no use calling on her good side, and Tyrion doesn’t. “You hate the people and they hate you”. This doesn’t work, her pride comes before self-preservation. She was ready to poison both her and Tommen when Stannis almost breached the gates, no mercy asked. She won’t ask this time either. So she has Missandei executed.

Is it just cruelty for cruelty’s sake because she feels confident? Or does she want Daenerys to attack too soon and too rashly, so her last dragon can be dropped from the sky as easily as Rhaegal was? Or does she think that the lords will rally to her when they see how Daenerys attacks cities like the Targaryen conquerors of old?

Missandei and Grey Worm made the mistake of planning for their happy end too early, rookie mistake. But I still thought that Grey Worm would end up being the one who dies, he had “one last mission before retirement” written all over him.

First Jorah, now Missandei. Rakharo vanished somewhere (if he died at some point I missed it), ser Barristan died, Daario was left behind… she has lost her closest companions from Essos. Grey Worm was never much of a talker, and Tyrion and Varys have only seen her in the conqueror mode. No one can remind her of her beginning, when her army fit into one small ship, and the whole world was against her but she still tried to find the best options.

Cersei has woken the dragon.

[ngakpakonchokdorjetsondonmystic]

The Clarifying Light: A Prophecy of the Future

The Clarifying Light: A Prophecy of the Future

from the Words of the Buddha compiled by Jamyang Khyentse Chökyi Lodrö[1]

Homage to the Three Jewels.[2]

The Blessed One taught the following text, which is of benefit during an evil age.

The range of what is called Dharma is likened to a path. Why? It is on this path that all living beings travel. That is why the Dharma is said to be like a path.

Once, when the Blessed One was seated beneath the bodhi tree, he saw all the living beings of Jambudvīpa. He saw that at the end of time, in the five-hundred-year period, an age of evil would arise. As to the thoughts and deeds of all beings, those people who encounter this text through their tenfold purity will be greatly meritorious, while those who do not encounter this text will be weak in merit and experience intense pain due to the afflictions. Human beings upon the earth will feel as if hacked apart with weapons.

Then, venerable Ānanda said to the Blessed One, "O Blessed One, since you consider human beings with compassion, please save them from this suffering."

The Blessed One said to venerable Ānanda, "I shall explain to you. I was abiding in the expanse of space. I directed my intention to view the living beings of Jambudvīpa. Listen, all of you, to my words. This Dharma text is a teaching that will be of benefit when an age of evil arises. To write it out and recite it and practise the visualization and recitation of the Great Compassionate One will swiftly purify all harmful actions and obscurations. Honouring this text with offerings of incense and flowers will bring about the happiness of all sentient beings. Writing out and reciting this text will lead to excellent rebirth throughout all future lives."

At the foot of the tree was a great lake, on the shores of which sat the emanation of Great Compassion, who had directed his magnanimity towards all living beings and was weeping intensely. The Blessed One said:

"Great Compassionate One, listen well. There is no need to weep. Listen well to what I have to say. In the tiger month of the new year I decided to go to the human realm.[3] At that time I freed all the beings of the age of evil from the ocean of suffering that is saṃsāra. They renounced all harmful action. I even guided the beings who had fallen into the hells. At that time, I spread this dharma text. Writing or reciting this text will put an end to all sickness. Any person who writes it out will benefit a whole town. Any town where it is written will benefit a whole country. The merit of human beings will increase, and negative circumstances and obstacles will be averted. It will bring release from the sufferings of the hells. It will be of benefit in both present and future lives. This is the essential path for all beings of the six classes. It is comparable to sailing in a boat across an ocean or river. Having faith in, and pure devotion towards, this text is crucial. Until Maitreya arrives in the human realm this text will yield extensive benefit. Writing out this Dharma and sharing it with others will bring boundless merit within the same lifetime and the same body. It will cause the blood-filled ocean of saṃsāra to dry up.

"By means of ten mental impurities, beings will first be overwhelmed by the afflictions. How worthy of compassion are all beings! Thereafter, second, the human realm will become a valley filled with blood. Third, although crops are planted and the land cultivated, there will be no freedom to enjoy the results.[4] Fourth, human beings will experience intense suffering. Fifth, people will lack vision while travelling on paths.[5] Sixth, cities will be overrun by carnivorous wild animals. Seventh, buildings within countries will lie empty.[6] Eighth, carnivorous wild animals will be seen wandering about aimlessly.[7] Ninth, although a few people will remain they will not dare to stay. Tenth, hungry ghosts and harmful spirits will appear, roaming through cities. This is what will come to pass based on the ten impurities.

"People will lack respect for one another and appear to praise themselves while disparaging others. There are four classes in human society: rulers, merchants, labourers and priests.[8] If they all have confidence in and reverence for this text the age will be one of fortune."

The Blessed One said, "Those who distrust this text will mislead one another and fall into the hell of ultimate torment (avīci). They will not hear the Dharma, and their cries of anguish will be heard throughout heaven and earth. An age of epidemics will dawn.[9] To write down or recite this dharma text immediately upon hearing it will overcome all epidemics and famine. It will bring excellent rebirth.

"There are seven forms of suffering in this world:[10] first, there is the suffering of heat and cold in the hells; second, the suffering of hunger and thirst among the pretas; third, the suffering of ignorance and confusion among animals;[11] fourth, the suffering of birth, old age, sickness and death, as well as lack of freedom, poverty and adherence to wrong views among human beings;[12] fifth, the suffering of hostility and conflict among the asuras;[13] sixth, the suffering of death, transmigration and downfall among the gods;[14] and seventh, the suffering of the bardo of becoming. Having confidence in this text, which is of benefit in these circumstances, will cause all wishes to be fulfilled and all disease to be eliminated. It will bring the excellent fortune of a bygone age.

"You might wonder why this is so. In a male Fire Horse year, a meteor the size of a large rock[15] will fall from the expanse of space and land on the shore of a large body of water.[16] When that meteorite cracks open, this text will emerge from it. It will then be crucially important for this dharma text to be passed on from one person to another and not kept hidden or secret. This is not intended for only one or two individuals; it has been set down for the sake of all sentient beings. May all the sufferings of saṃsāra come to an end!

"In future, at the end of the five-hundred-year period, When the teachings of the Buddha are in decline, When the discipline of monks has deteriorated, When minds are occupied with negative thoughts, When people feast on broken pledges and misdeeds, When they engage in the ten unwholesome actions, When mantra practitioners recite evil spells, When the five poisons are nurtured deep within, When people misbehave physically and verbally, When dharma teaching is in terminal decline, When bird feathers develop on hillsides,[17] When wood is kept in an iron case,[18] When people commit wicked deeds, All these actions, faults and defects[19] Will surely herald a fearful time of crisis. This text that dispels the conditions of an evil age Must be written out or recited immediately upon sight— Have no doubt that this will avert the evils of the age. It is enough to inquire whether or not this is true. Let us speak and express only truth. All those who claim that this is untrue Will be struck by the symptoms of disease From the tips of the hair on their head Down to the very tips of their toes."

When the Blessed One had said this, the Great Compassionate One, Maitreya, Ānanda, and the whole world with its human beings, asuras and gandharvas rejoiced and praised the speech of the Blessed One.

Then the Blessed One extended his right hand, beautifully adorned with the marks and signs, and touched it to the ground, thereby subjugating evil demonic forces together with their retinues. One must train in this transcendent perfection of wisdom, which brings inconceivable joy and mental wellbeing and which subjugates and pacifies illness and demonic forces. Then the Blessed One entered the Ganges-like meditative absorption[20] and spoke this text which summarizes all the excellent teachings of the sūtras.

Ānanda then addressed the Blessed One once again: "Blessed One, this Dharma that you have taught is for the purpose of averting obstacles and negative circumstances in saṃsāra. In the male Earth Monkey year an epidemic will occur, and it will be crucial to have a profound means of addressing it. If beings should doubt the truth of this and lack confidence in this text, neglecting it out of indifference so that it cannot spread,[21] this will only delight the demonic forces. But for this text to be copied and trusted will bring much happiness. This dharma text will bring relief."

The Blessed One replied:[22]

"Good, good. That is exceedingly good. This is to be taught everywhere from early on, And an excellent wealth of virtue will result. Merit and qualities will fully unfold. All the perfect buddhas have spoken thus. Nanda, Upananda, and the rest of you, Exert yourselves in this, which is beneficial to beings. In future, at the end of time, The virtue of this will be beyond imagining. For anyone who has faith in this All wishes will be fulfilled, Obstacles and adversity will be banished. A person with faith in the Buddha's teachings Should make offerings with incense and flowers."

Then the protector Maitreya looked out from the expanse of space and saw that human beings were shedding tears of blood. He went before the Blessed One and said, "Blessed One, I beseech you to impart a Dharma for the future that conveys its message in few words but holds great blessings."

The Blessed One replied:

"Maitreya, that is excellent. Listen to this speech of mine. It is imparted for the sake of all beings Including the likes of Brahmā and Śakra. In order to benefit all living beings I have verbally communicated this message. It is to be respected and diligently applied, As it will bring an abundance of virtue.

"Later, in the first month of autumn during the male Fire Horse year and in the male Earth Monkey year, evil people who lack faith in this text will meet their deaths. Those people who copy or recite this text will lead long lives, enjoy good health and gain much merit. All the harmful forces of this evil age will come to roam about the towns. Invisible to human beings, they will pass through uncertain places while remaining hidden. At that time the blessings of this dharma text will cause all spirits, evil forces and harmful influences to shudder and flee. It is vital that this text be disseminated throughout every land. Do not consider it untrue or harbour doubt.

"For those who lack faith in this Dharma taught by the wise and venerable Buddha, Sugata, knower of the world, guide and tamer of beings, unsurpassed teacher of gods and men, awakened and transcendent conqueror, a great earthquake will occur in a Fire Horse year. The crisis that arises at this time will intensify in a female Fire Sheep year, and some people will contract diseases due to defilement (grib) and die.[23] Some will die on roads, and some will die in landslides.[24]

"In a male Earth Monkey year there will be terrifying floods. In the summer, sickness brought on by famine will cause loss of life. At that time, harmful spirits will overrun the land. Copying and reciting this teaching will afford protection against harmful influences and obstacle-makers.

"In a female Earth Bird year it will be crucially important to avoid harming others, to refrain from consuming flesh or blood, and to guard one's vows.

"In a male Iron Dog year lands and cities will be overrun by tigers, leopards, bears, wolves and jackals. It will be crucial at that time to copy and recite this Dharma as a means of liberation for human beings.

"In a female Iron Sheep year[25] all sentient beings will come to lack self-control, like paper blown about in the wind or like a great lake that surges and overflows. At that time those people who lack faith in this text will die."

Then the Blessed One said to the Great Compassionate One:

"In a year of the Mouse the melodious sound of Dharma will emanate from the expanse of space. If one were then to copy or recite this text which radiates throughout all four cardinal and eight intermediate directions with the power and strength of the buddhas' blessings, like the light of the sun and moon, it would bring benefit until Maitreya arrives. Such is the potential of this text.

"If this is copied or recited aloud It will bring mountainous merit. In a palace upon Mount Potala Resides the emanation of buddha speech Surrounded by a retinue of bodhisattvas. Above, below and in each of the ten directions— Beings everywhere he leads to happiness.

"Moreover, the Great Compassionate One considered all human beings with compassion and disseminated this text[26] for the sake of sentient beings. When it is doubted and considered untrue, then in the first and middle months of summer an epidemic will arise. People will fall sick in the morning and die in the evening.[27] At that time, as the age of crisis unfolds, plants and forests will be hacked and hewn, rocky mountains will crumble from their base, and the earth will tremble and quake, as if incapable of remaining still. No more than one in ten people will survive. Do not think this untrue, for it is the word of the Blessed One.[28] How worthy of compassion are all beings!

"Then, in a female Fire Sheep year and male Earth Monkey year the evil 'five-hundred-year' period will dawn. Conflict will arise from all around—the four cardinal and eight intermediate directions. Human beings will quarrel and fight among themselves.[29] This is a Dharma that liberates from the ravages of time. To copy and recite it upon first sight will overcome conflict. This text, which brings wellbeing if copied or recited, will bring boundless virtue and liberate from every fear and concern.

"This dharma text is not for only one or two individuals; it was composed for the sake of all sentient beings. If this dharma text is distributed throughout every land in all directions human beings will enjoy excellent happiness and wellbeing. Through an abundance of virtue,[30] the sufferings of sentient beings will end.

"Unless this text is diligently recollected for five or six months, an age of epidemics will dawn. Some will die from fever; some will die from colds; some will go lose their sanity and die;[31] some will die from a sickness of the throat;[32] some will die from a sickness of the heart; some will experience intestinal pain and then die; some will die from sickness of the liver. There is a remedy for these harmful spirits and sicknesses.[33]

"Sons and daughters of noble family should keep on their bodies this text which guards against and remedies these forms of sickness and harmful influence. The mantra that guards against, and liberates from, all divine spirits, nāga spirits, elemental spirits and epidemics—Emaho, p'en no p'en no svāhā—[34] should be worn by males on their right side and by females on their left. Doing so will liberate from all epidemics and bring excellent rebirth. There is no doubt that copying, reciting and having faith in this will bring freedom from the blood-filled ocean of suffering that is saṃsāra.

How worthy of compassion are all the people between heaven and earth![35] May all the sicknesses that cause untimely death among human beings be utterly pacified! May beings come to have the excellence of bygone ages! May they come to possess merit beyond measure.

For beings who lack faith in this dharma text there will be no time of liberation.[36] Towns will be overrun by various forms of harmful spirits. At that time the cries of people will fill the air and resound across the earth.[37] Although there will be nutritious fruit and grain, everyone will lack the power to consume it. The whole population will eat demonic food.[38]

Then, the Great Compassionate One, noble Avalokiteśvara, spoke the following[39] so that beings might arouse compassion in their minds: "Blessed One, I pray that you may infuse this text with your blessings. Consecrate it with magnetising powers, I pray."

Then the Blessed One said, "If this text is venerated with faith and devotion evil times will come to an end. It will bring the boundless merit of freedom from every form of contagious disease. Let all human beings on this earth be freed from the conflict, disease and misery of an evil age and gain all the excellence of a bygone era.[40]

"In accordance with this aspiration for the sake of virtue,[41] and especially if this is recited during both the horse month[42] and rabbit month[43] it will bring unimaginable beneficial qualities. People who copy and recite this text will enjoy long lives, good health and happiness.[44] Partially copying the text will pacify all the causes of harm in an age of evil.

This circulated once during a past Dragon year.[45] It was apparently unable to spread throughout the world. This is how the evil age first took hold. Later, the text was circulated in a male Fire Horse year.

This dharma text is the means of averting evil times. Unless it can spread throughout all lands, crops will be ruined by blight, hail and frost, leading to famine. An epidemic of unrecognisable sickness will emerge bringing pain and misery. There is no doubt that copying or reciting this will bring liberation from all suffering.

Until the victorious protector Maitreya arrives in this world, this dharma text serves as a refuge to beings. For those with faith in it and devotion for it let it cleanse and purify all harmful actions, obscurations and habitual tendencies. May harvests be forever excellent! May virtue be abundant! May this be a gem-like source of all that is wished for and required![46] May everything throughout all these lands be auspicious! May every place become resplendent! With sickness, famine and warfare utterly overcome, may rains bring excellent harvests and may all wishes be spontaneously fulfilled! With wealth and prosperity extending throughout the land, may the Wheel of Dharma turn and forever remain secure.

When the Blessed One had said this, the Great Compassionate One, Maitreya, Ānanda, and the whole world including gods, asuras and gandharvas rejoiced and praised the speech of the Blessed One.

This concludes The Clarifying Light: A Prophecy of the Future.[47]

| Translated by Adam Pearcey 2020, with the generous support of the Khyentse Foundation and Terton Sogyal Trust, and with the gracious assistance of Alak Zenkar Rinpoche.

[ecoamerica]

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Tzica and Tzoren

Herald to the Dragon, Magistrate of the Duchess, Seneschal to Her Will. Friend.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Then be prepared for life to knock over your pitcher and break all your glasses. 

Tzica and Tzoren were a pair of NPCs I used in a game a few years back, one I’d refer to as River Kingdom Rambles. I liked them. She didn’t come to a very nice fate, but that’s just how things go when you let your precious NPCs intersect with your Players. 

When they first met with her (rescued her,) she and her brother were escaped slaves, ‘living’ in the half-flooded bilge of a small pirate ship. Escaped slaves being returned to their owners.  A little geography might be necessary. 

You see that river just north of Loric Fells? Below the ‘M’ in River Kingdoms? That was the river this scummy band of freshwater pirates sailed. The two tieflings had escaped from Numeria beforehand. They’d made it to the River Kingdoms, tasted real freedom, then gotten abducted by pirates who may have been contracted by their previous owner and sent to retrieve them, or may have just figured a pair of escaped slaves would be easy money. Doesn’t really matter; their return voyage got interrupted by the PCs and a whole lot of violence.

Now from the player’s perspective, what you’re encountering is a pair of sodden, bedraggled tieflings who don’t look related to each other outside of, you know, tiefling, emerging from the stinking, fetid bilge of a river brig. Both of them look half-starved and mistreated. The guy’s a bit bigger, and he eyes you up with the wariness of someone who considers ‘good luck’ to be inherently suspect. The gal is a little shorter, a little younger, looks you over and smiles broadly, then goes “Ah, yes. My book. Thank you. Needed that, yes.” and takes the odd book the wizard found on the pirates and was trying to figure out. 

Over the next day or so and further interaction (It’s been a few years; I think they were using the pirate ship to head down river. Likewise, her words are definitely not exact quotes, but approximations.) they determine a couple things; the tieflings are, naturally, pretty grateful for having been rescued; life didn’t look too great where they were headed. She, Tzica, smiles a lot, speaks peculiarly broken common, speaks a lot, and seems to lie or exaggerate or just embellish constantly and habitually. She’s a sorceress of some kind (Pathfinder. I’ll save my bitching about the system for some other post) and generally a pleasant but odd individual. Her ‘brother’(?) is mute, seems intelligent but doesn’t seem to know common, and is fairly protective- but can’t understand her any better than you, so...? She says he’s fine, he was born that way, then amends the next day that, no, he was injured trying to save her, then rescinds, no, he’s just very shy. She was grinning that time, she’s probably joking? Whatever. Not much she can repay you with- her ‘spellbook’ isn’t, though it’s clearly gimmicked to look like one. Presumably so that if someone wants to disarm the “wizard” she might be able to convince them that they can do it by taking away her spellbook. 

There, an odd, quirky character, just strange enough to be memorable despite being the beneficiary of one of their good deeds, and that’s about it. Well, that’s fine. Not everyone needs to be more important than that- but oh, she was. To begin with though, where did she come from? Well, of course all NPCs have somewhat ephemeral backstory before encountering the PCs, but the broad strokes I had in mind were;

Slaves born in Numeria, owned by a magos of the Technic League.

(Millenia back a “star” exploded in the sky over Numeria and rained down in pieces. These had everything from androids to roboscorpions. The technic league are a bunch of natives of Golarion trying to gather scraps and pieces of this wondrous knowledge and power. Frequently, this takes the form of poking things until they do something. Sometimes something is useful. Sometimes something is ‘irradiate everything in a mile of here’. Very Conan the Barbarian vs Giant Roboscorpions vs The Adeptus Mechanicus)

Involved in the general unpleasantness the Technic League engaged with, usually with slaves and bizarre unintelligible magitek spaceships debris. 

Not actually siblings, but hey, tieflings, slavery, similar sob story, etc. Perfectly chaste allies/friends/as close to family as either had.

Because I’d been re-reading David Brin’s Uplift Storm Trilogy (Brightness Reef, Infinity's Shores, Heaven’s Reach), in their slavery to a high-ranking member of the Technic League, Tzica had tried to escape (or backtalked one too many times) and gotten in real trouble. Tzoren helped her escape, in exchange got punished with a partial lobotomy; he’d lost the speech center of his brain. Again, this is based on the character from the books; he can do math, he’s a trained engineer, but he can’t even think in words, much less actually use or understand them. Tzica went back for him, they managed to both get out and flee south. 

Well, Okay, That’s An Involved Backstory, But What Do They Do?

I’m so glad you asked. You see, they do come back. Much later, (maybe, four to eight months...) when the party happens to be fleeing a fey hunt with faerie riders hot on their heels, they reach salvation; a big river, a branch of the Sellen river. The boundary of the forest, the limit of the fey domain. They dive in and start swimming for the passing ship they see... and someone on board recognizes them. Waves, orders the ship to stop, and gets sailors to throw them a rope and help them up, all while the faeries mill on the shore, unable to chase them beyond the bounds of their realm. Who is it, but...  Tzica and Tzoren, dragonslayers!

No, not yet. But the main ‘background’ to the campaign involved a dragon showing up in a city state towards the north of the River Kingdoms (whose king ruler had mysteriously vanished recently while travelling) and declaring herself Queen of the Realm. “Any objections?” the dragon asked pleasantly, daring people to raise their hands... But the long and short of it was that there were secret calls for heroes to come, for dragonslayers to arise from obscurity and save the  world city duchy. Well, what does that have to do with a pair of ex-slaves? Tzica, it turned out, had managed to bluff free passage on the ship (towards the city in question) with claims of being great dragonslayers, answering the call and travelling to deliver the people of Wyvernmark! And when the opportunity to do a solid to some people who had done her a really good turn earlier arose, well... Can’t skip on that, can you? She was very smug and pleased about being able to return the favor. 

Of course, the PCs weren’t dummies, and looked at a single sorceress and a single fighter, apparently off to fight the BBEG being set up in the background for the whole campaign, and quietly concluded that they’d never see her again. But of course...

When they next saw her, they were actually going to Wyvernmark. City the campaign had actually started at, sans dragon queen. There’s a public execution as they arrive- a spy trying to sneak into the royal lair palace (dragons particularly dislike thieves, after all)  and it’s done by sealing him in a large brass bull, (for real, you might not want to click) and then melting that to slag in about thirty seconds with dragonbreath.

It leaves an impression. Pretty humane compared to the original, but it still leaves an impression. And then the players, who’d arrived just in time to witness that, receive personal invitations to the palace later that day...

Oh. Oh Shit.

But no- it’s not the dragon who spotted them in the crowd. It’s her right hand and number-one minion, Tzica. Tzica, who arrived in the city about as destitute as they last saw her, through sheer chutzpah and bluff managed to secure a meeting with the dragon and... hit it off. For real. She’s brave enough to talk to the dragon, to be funny and flippant while she’s doing it, wise enough to flatter and praise where necessary, willing to “act” impressed when appropriate. She’s from out of town and unlikely to betray her only ally in Wyvernmark- and hell, the idea of having to treat some tiefling, and a foreign ex-slave at that, as their equal or superior sent the local nobility into fits, a feature they both found hilarious. The red dragon kept her throne room absolutely sweltering, 120*+, because she liked fucking with the humans who came to whine at her, keeping them uncomfortable and so on- Tzica and her brother, being tieflings, had fire resistance such that they could not only tolerate such unpleasantness, but wear heavy clothing while doing so without breaking a sweat. 

So. Tzica finagled herself a position as the dragon’s seneschal. Magistrate. Personal herald and emissary, minister of the Duchess. And spotting her friends in the crowds (or perhaps being informed by servants) decided she wanted to wow her friends with her new status, and do them a solid; she invited them to dinner, introduced them to her boss, and tried to toss some work their way. That’s not quite “Thanks for saving me from captivity, torture, and death”, but it’s pretty good and the thought is in the right place.

It went over pretty badly, no lie. Two of the players... well, let’s just say Kalythierixa Vel’darathys, She of the Crimson and Carmine, Duchess of Wyvernmark and Blazing Judgement nailed two PCs. Some people don’t know when to be diplomatic, and some people would rather die than cower, flatter, or beg. 

But really, they were the most difficult players, and neither of them was the Ex-Numerian-slave PC, who Tzica was probably closest to. So, to the survivors, she repeats her efforts to throw them work; Dragon Queen wants Artifact, go and get it, you’ll be rewarded nicely for your efforts. (And privately, Abadar’s blood, I’m just trying to engage in a little remunerative kickback, why are you throwing a goddamn fit about it!)

Still, it got them out of the city for a bit, and they went questing, yea, even unto Numerian lands, found the tomb of a hero (Mesa Hack or something, I was cribbing pretty heavily off the plot of Shadow of Death- the Artifact they were after was the Elixir of Life) and came back- all the while more rankling at the fact that they were working for an evil dragon (Red, Chromatic) than grateful for the work their friend had managed to secure them. They also had real reservations about giving a heavy-duty Artifact to said evil dragon. (I think they eventually found out- Kalythierixa didn’t give a damn about the Vial, other than “hey, artifact, nifty thing for my hoard”- It was all being done as a favor to her favorite minion, maybe even friend Tzica, who thought that it could be used to cure her lobotomized brother.)

The PCs got rewarded with funds and a small fort to the south of the city- Kalythierixa even cleaned it out of hobgoblins for them. (The PCs were upset about that, which I found really weird. “No, we want to be gifted somebody else’s home and have to clean it up ourselves.”) One of the PCs was fallen nobility from Brevoy, so a small title and deed was exactly the kind of thing they’d been aiming for all along. However, he really didn’t like the dragon. I’m not sure why- my impression was that he went “Red dragon -> chromatic -> evil -> must kill”. Spindly, if you ever read this, feel free to set me straight.

Which was somewhat frustrating for me; the whole point of the campaign had been to have the players thrust into the position where they got to decide between restoring the mortal nobility or siding with the dragon. Tzica represented a major in with the dragon, and they were well placed to end up the most significant nobles in the city, with the ear of the dragon herself (and especially her seneschal). Who would dare attack a city ruled by a dragon, what games of nobility would see commoner pawns sacrificed for sport or intrigue? She wasn’t being that bad of a ruler....

 Or, they could decide that, sure, a young dragon might not be that awful now, but what if she gets bored in ten years? A century? Two? Dragons go up in CR with age, right?  What if she decides she’s tired of playing the long game in thirty years and decides to up an raze the city, hauling off everything valuable and killing everyone for the lulz? What if Tzica has nowhere near the influence on her she seems to think, what if she turns on us next?

It was supposed to be a balanced grey-on-grey choice with no particular ‘right’ (or wrong) answer; think about it, make the best guess you or your character can make, and profit from the results whichever way you turn. There was no wrong answer, and it kind of felt like they still failed, because with one player dead set on “dragon bad, kill dragon”, the amount of  weight I’d have to place on the other side of the scales to make it an actual quandary for him meant it would be a no-brainer for everyone else. 

All good things must come to an end, or if you’re an NPC, eventually the PCs show up to knock over your lemonade, smash all your dishes, and accidentally break your table in two. The party split, and a player shuffled PCs- Crafting-bitch ex-slave wizard (pregnant...) stayed behind in Wyernmark as a genteel hostage (this happened because player wanted to swap out PCs for a new one) while the party was sent to go deal with some rabble-rousing war-talk in Daggermark. Daggermark being the preeminent city of the River Kingdoms. So remember; party of four. One hates her boss, Ex-slave Wizard (Sara) here is good friends with her, and the other two died shortly after meeting the dragon. Suddenly the party has zero people who are ‘good friends’ with Tzica, and the only one who is still a buddy is NPC’d and offscreen, serving as a hostage for good behavior. (Admittedly, the dragon was aware that they had been plotting to betray her- the hostage was probably necessary.)

Despite that all, Sara the Wizard makes some good work. She is, and has always been, all about getting along with people, making friends, and trying to do right by everyone. She hangs out with her good friend Tzica (even helped Tzica cure Tzoren) and slowly ingratiates herself with the dragon- doing her best to turn the Chaotic Evil red dragon (and really, it was a kind of bemused, sedate CE to begin with) towards Neutral. Show her that the maximum wealth derives not from tyranny, but from wise, lasting rulership. Tzica had already started down this path, to be honest, but her concerns were much more limited in scope- Don’t torture. That was about the only limit she’d placed on her boss, and through her prudence in not actually ordering the prideful scaly teenager around, she’d managed to achieve it in effect without it ever being acknowledged. (Yes, brazen bulls are pretty horrible torture implements, but again, they were being used for rather swift state executions- being reduced from ‘intact human’ to ‘bubbling metal with a high carbon content in under thirty seconds isn’t exactly drawn out.)

But the party comes back oblivious to all that effort. They show up loaded for bear, throw down with their sworn liege, (Promises made to NPCs don’t count.:^)) and Wizard is indisposed during the fighting. (Player is only allowed one character at a time.) Tzica, sorceress, seneschal, herald of the dragon, fights in her defense- after all, given her public role as servant of the tyrant lizard, she’d be dead woman walking if the dragon was replaced. On top of that, the dragon is her friend. Friend. Simply through friendship and getting along, the dragon gifted her power and wealth quite literally beyond a poor slave’s imagination- And damned if she was going to let a bunch of ungrateful vagrants (even ones she didn’t want to dislike) tear down all she had and slay her best friend. 

Tzica didn’t survive that fight. Sara the Wizard’s player was playing a Paladin in that fight, who zeroed in on the caster supporting the dragon with PC levels and (quite sensibly) killed her despite Tzoren’s best efforts to do anything to stop her. It was a pretty nasty and effective build, not that I can remember it in detail beyond a stupidly high AC. 

Sara tried resurrecting her when she found out what had happened. It worked... sort of. Tzica came back... a little wrong. Or maybe that was just natural bitterness at having everything going for her in life turned upside down and shattered. What she thought had been some of her closest friends had betrayed her (Sara was married to one of the slayers, the other PC who’d been there since the start) and they’d done so by killing her actual best friend. 

She took a bone and some scales from the dragon’s body and left without looking back, seeking a way to resurrect her only friend. A lot of her charm and levity was gone; you could hardly tell her common was weird and idiosyncratic with how little she spoke. 

Tzoren, healed by his sister (but never quite so fond of the dragon as she was) loved her but felt like she’d changed a bit too much to really follow. There was no point in avenging her death when she’d been resurrected, and besides, it didn’t seem like it was her death that had made her so much colder. He moved to another city, and settled down semi-happily with another NPC; He’d just been a bodyguard, after all, servant-of-a-servant, not the chief quisling who’d served as the dragon’s enforcer himself. 

Much, much, much later, in a different campaign in a different system (but still Golarion because I’m fond of the setting), the party came across a wizened old hag busy plating a dracolich in necromantic metal. A jaded, heartless caster with a dragonbone staff, empowering a horrific undead beast that was never a pleasant creature in life much less death. With a strange rapport, always punctilious and polite, infinitely respectful of the draconic titan, but rather closer to ‘peer’ than anyone would expect a dracolich to tolerate, even if she was doing a great service for him. 

They never got her name.

[hobbitsetal]

2:18-25

Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. 19 For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly.20 For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. 21 For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. 22 He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. 23 When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. 24 He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 25 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

[this is gonna take a couple posts...but i also couldn’t break up the train of thought, so here we go.]

Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. 19 For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. [first off, most preachers i’ve heard consider “masters” of Bible times to be more-or-less equivalent to employers of today, though we’ve definitely got more freedom. it’s easy to be obedient to the good employers. it’s easy to be respectful to those who treat you with respect, dignity, good pay. but even if they’re a terrible employer and you’re searching for a job elsewhere, here we’re commanded to respect them. Peter acknowledges we may not have done anything to deserve this (”while suffering unjustly”), but that does not negate the command to be respectful. no bad-mouthing, backbiting, gossip, put-downs...in all ways, behave as if they were the perfect employer.

Matthew Henry has a good point: “The sinful misconduct of one relation does not justify the sinful behaviour of the other; the servant is bound to do his duty, though the master be sinfully froward and perverse.”

which, arguably, extends to working hard and well for that person. Colossians 3:17, i think, could be applied: “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” this is what we were redeemed for.

For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. [man’s got a good point...]

For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. [people want to be happy. they want to be successful. and we, in our humanity, feel like “happy” and “successful” do not go with “suffering.” but if we are Christians who walk boldly before God, if we can declare “I must serve God rather than man”, if our devotion to God truly sets us apart from other men, we’re going to suffer. the baker comes back to mind. last news story i heard about that family, their business was basically ruined by the fees they were required to pay. my brother’s in the Navy. he’s been singled out by some jerk of a dude, and the other men in his unit are baffled, because my brother is one of the most likable people you’re ever gonna meet. but my brother is a Christian, and the other man is not. my mother believes that’s the problem right there, that it’s a spiritual enmity.

so then, when we suffer, how are we to deal with it? how do we conduct ourselves so that we glorify God and do not sin?]

He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. 23 When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.

[first off, “neither was deceit found in his mouth.” miracles, claims of divinity, teaching that contradicted the established religious rulers of the day...and yet it was all accurate and true.  Numbers 23:19, “God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it?” Titus 1:2, “in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began...”  there’s a couple other verses, but these are enough. Jesus Christ, being the Incarnate God, cannot lie. therefore, we will never find deceit in His mouth.

but besides being a perfect human, who never sinned, and a perfectly trustworthy God, Who never lies, Christ offers us a template for how to respond to persecution.

Matthew Henry says, “Our Blessed Redeemer was perfectly holy, and so free from sin that no temptation, no provocation whatsoever, could extort from him so much as the least sinful or indecent word. [2.] Provocations to sin can never justify the commission of it. The rudeness, cruelty, and injustice of enemies, will not justify Christians in reviling and revenge; the reasons for sin can never be so great, but we have always stronger reasons to avoid it.”

(i should get Mantis, which offers like four different commentators’ perspectives...Henry is great, but “in a multitude of counselors is much wisdom,” so...)

so. we then, having even less cause than Christ to be angry with persecution, should possess our souls in patience, should remain calm, gracious, loving, should remember the purpose of our suffering is our good and God’s eternal glory.

"when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.” this just Judge being God the Father, Who is perfect in power, knowledge, and love, and will vindicate our suffering, reward our patience, and deal with our enemies according to their merits.

and being a just Judge, God shows no favoritism. He will deal with everyone exactly as they deserve...which apart from Christ is by damning them to Hell. and being a just Judge, since Christ has already paid for our sins, God will not punish us twice. He will look at us and see the perfect sacrifice of Jesus and He will welcome us into eternal joy, as beloved children.

holy smokes, y’all, that’s amazing.]

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 25 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

[DO YOU SEE WHAT GOD HAS DONE. DO YOU SEE WHAT THE TRIUNE GOD DID FOR YOUR SOUL. THAT’S INCREDIBLE.

okay. it’s not just that He wipes out our sin. He doesn’t just erase the blackboard, as it were. no, He takes out the graffiti, the filthy words, the crude images, and He replaces it with artwork that surpasses da Vinci, Picasso, Monet.  that’s the brilliant thing about the Epistles; the apostles always write “stop doing these sins. INSTEAD do these things.”  i saw a post this year about Lent, that said it’s not always about giving something up, sometimes you can focus on adding something positive in. and while i don’t celebrate Lent, i like the idea.

but it should be a both-and. for instance (speaking quite personally), i’m going to focus on being less selfish overall, and i’m going to seek opportunities to serve my family in the ways that most please each family member. for my little brother, i’m going to work on paying more attention to him when he’s rambling about stuff. (epic fail yesterday; he was ranting about Women’s Day and i told him to shut up so i could focus on theology. the irony didn’t hit till today.) for my queen mother, cooking more often and heeding her advice would be a biggie. for my handsome father, i can serve him by cleaning the kitchen so he doesn’t have to. (because my father is the kind of selfless who’ll do the dishes at 10 pm rather than roust one of his lazy children.)

and can we talk about “by His wounds you have been healed”? because that’s such an incredible contradiction. how can causing one Person pain cause other people healing? because we’re talking about spiritual injuries and spiritual death. the wages of sin is death. sin must be dealt with and paid in blood. but the blood of animals is not worth as much as man’s, and killing a fellow sinner doesn’t negate my sin. how can it? he has his own sin to account for! But the death of a Perfect Man, Who has no sin to account for...the death of God, Who is infinite...that is enough to negate the sins of the entire universe and every human who’s ever lived.

and now we are restored to our God. now we are returned to the One Who watches over us, and Who lets nothing befall us but what is good for our souls.

i just...y’all. sometimes i just honestly cannot with God.

[hackerr00t]

Ur-Fascism/Eternal Fascism by Umberto Eco

WRITTEN ON THE “NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS” ON JUNE 22, 1995

--Op commentary: Please if you are going to read just one thing today read this essay on how to recognize fascism around us in any historical time.   Thank you.--

In 1942, at the age of ten, I received the First Provincial Award of Ludi Juveniles (a voluntary, compulsory competition for young Italian Fascists—that is, for every young Italian). I elaborated with rhetorical skill on the subject “Should we die for the glory of Mussolini and the immortal destiny of Italy?” My answer was positive. I was a smart boy.

I spent two of my early years among the SS, Fascists, Republicans, and partisans shooting at one another, and I learned how to dodge bullets. It was good exercise.

In April 1945, the partisans took over in Milan. Two days later they arrived in the small town where I was living at the time. It was a moment of joy. The main square was crowded with people singing and waving flags, calling in loud voices for Mimo, the partisan leader of that area. A former maresciallo of the Carabinieri, Mimo joined the supporters of General Badoglio, Mussolini’s successor, and lost a leg during one of the first clashes with Mussolini’s remaining forces. Mimo showed up on the balcony of the city hall, pale, leaning on his crutch, and with one hand tried to calm the crowd. I was waiting for his speech because my whole childhood had been marked by the great historic speeches of Mussolini, whose most significant passages we memorized in school. Silence. Mimo spoke in a hoarse voice, barely audible. He said: “Citizens, friends. After so many painful sacrifices … here we are. Glory to those who have fallen for freedom.” And that was it. He went back inside. The crowd yelled, the partisans raised their guns and fired festive volleys. We kids hurried to pick up the shells, precious items, but I had also learned that freedom of speech means freedom from rhetoric.

A few days later I saw the first American soldiers. They were African Americans. The first Yankee I met was a black man, Joseph, who introduced me to the marvels of Dick Tracy and Li’l Abner. His comic books were brightly colored and smelled good.

One of the officers (Major or Captain Muddy) was a guest in the villa of a family whose two daughters were my schoolmates. I met him in their garden where some ladies, surrounding Captain Muddy, talked in tentative French. Captain Muddy knew some French, too. My first image of American liberators was thus—after so many palefaces in black shirts—that of a cultivated black man in a yellow-green uniform saying: “Oui, merci beaucoup, Madame, moi aussi j’aime le champagne…” Unfortunately there was no champagne, but Captain Muddy gave me my first piece of Wrigley’s Spearmint and I started chewing all day long. At night I put my wad in a water glass, so it would be fresh for the next day.

In May we heard that the war was over. Peace gave me a curious sensation. I had been told that permanent warfare was the normal condition for a young Italian. In the following months I discovered that the Resistance was not only a local phenomenon but a European one. I learned new, exciting words like réseau, maquis, armée secrète, Rote Kapelle, Warsaw ghetto. I saw the first photographs of the Holocaust, thus understanding the meaning before knowing the word. I realized what we were liberated from.

In my country today there are people who are wondering if the Resistance had a real military impact on the course of the war. For my generation this question is irrelevant: we immediately understood the moral and psychological meaning of the Resistance. For us it was a point of pride to know that we Europeans did not wait passively for liberation. And for the young Americans who were paying with their blood for our restored freedom it meant something to know that behind the firing lines there were Europeans paying their own debt in advance.

In my country today there are those who are saying that the myth of the Resistance was a Communist lie. It is true that the Communists exploited the Resistance as if it were their personal property, since they played a prime role in it; but I remember partisans with kerchiefs of different colors. Sticking close to the radio, I spent my nights—the windows closed, the blackout making the small space around the set a lone luminous halo—listening to the messages sent by the Voice of London to the partisans. They were cryptic and poetic at the same time (The sun also rises, The roses will bloom) and most of them were “messaggi per la Franchi.” Somebody whispered to me that Franchi was the leader of the most powerful clandestine network in northwestern Italy, a man of legendary courage. Franchi became my hero. Franchi (whose real name was Edgardo Sogno) was a monarchist, so strongly anti-Communist that after the war he joined very right-wing groups, and was charged with collaborating in a project for a reactionary coup d’état. Who cares? Sogno still remains the dream hero of my childhood. Liberation was a common deed for people of different colors.

In my country today there are some who say that the War of Liberation was a tragic period of division, and that all we need is national reconciliation. The memory of those terrible years should be repressed, refoulée, verdrängt. But Verdrängung causes neurosis. If reconciliation means compassion and respect for all those who fought their own war in good faith, to forgive does not mean to forget. I can even admit that Eichmann sincerely believed in his mission, but I cannot say, “OK, come back and do it again.” We are here to remember what happened and solemnly say that “They” must not do it again.

But who are They?

If we still think of the totalitarian governments that ruled Europe before the Second World War we can easily say that it would be difficult for them to reappear in the same form in different historical circumstances. If Mussolini’s fascism was based upon the idea of a charismatic ruler, on corporatism, on the utopia of the Imperial Fate of Rome, on an imperialistic will to conquer new territories, on an exacerbated nationalism, on the ideal of an entire nation regimented in black shirts, on the rejection of parliamentary democracy, on anti-Semitism, then I have no difficulty in acknowledging that today the Italian Alleanza Nazionale, born from the postwar Fascist Party, MSI, and certainly a right-wing party, has by now very little to do with the old fascism. In the same vein, even though I am much concerned about the various Nazi-like movements that have arisen here and there in Europe, including Russia, I do not think that Nazism, in its original form, is about to reappear as a nationwide movement.

Nevertheless, even though political regimes can be overthrown, and ideologies can be criticized and disowned, behind a regime and its ideology there is always a way of thinking and feeling, a group of cultural habits, of obscure instincts and unfathomable drives. Is there still another ghost stalking Europe (not to speak of other parts of the world)?

Ionesco once said that “only words count and the rest is mere chattering.” Linguistic habits are frequently important symptoms of underlying feelings. Thus it is worth asking why not only the Resistance but the Second World War was generally defined throughout the world as a struggle against fascism. If you reread Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls you will discover that Robert Jordan identifies his enemies with Fascists, even when he thinks of the Spanish Falangists. And for FDR, “The victory of the American people and their allies will be a victory against fascism and the dead hand of despotism it represents.”

During World War II, the Americans who took part in the Spanish war were called “premature anti-fascists”—meaning that fighting against Hitler in the Forties was a moral duty for every good American, but fighting against Franco too early, in the Thirties, smelled sour because it was mainly done by Communists and other leftists. … Why was an expression like fascist pig used by American radicals thirty years later to refer to a cop who did not approve of their smoking habits? Why didn’t they say: Cagoulard pig, Falangist pig, Ustashe pig, Quisling pig, Nazi pig?

Mein Kampf is a manifesto of a complete political program. Nazism had a theory of racism and of the Aryan chosen people, a precise notion of degenerate art, entartete Kunst, a philosophy of the will to power and of the Ubermensch. Nazism was decidedly anti-Christian and neo-pagan, while Stalin’s Diamat (the official version of Soviet Marxism) was blatantly materialistic and atheistic. If by totalitarianism one means a regime that subordinates every act of the individual to the state and to its ideology, then both Nazism and Stalinism were true totalitarian regimes.

Italian fascism was certainly a dictatorship, but it was not totally totalitarian, not because of its mildness but rather because of the philosophical weakness of its ideology. Contrary to common opinion, fascism in Italy had no special philosophy. The article on fascism signed by Mussolini in the Treccani Encyclopedia was written or basically inspired by Giovanni Gentile, but it reflected a late-Hegelian notion of the Absolute and Ethical State which was never fully realized by Mussolini. Mussolini did not have any philosophy: he had only rhetoric. He was a militant atheist at the beginning and later signed the Convention with the Church and welcomed the bishops who blessed the Fascist pennants. In his early anticlerical years, according to a likely legend, he once asked God, in order to prove His existence, to strike him down on the spot. Later, Mussolini always cited the name of God in his speeches, and did not mind being called the Man of Providence.

Italian fascism was the first right-wing dictatorship that took over a European country, and all similar movements later found a sort of archetype in Mussolini’s regime. Italian fascism was the first to establish a military liturgy, a folklore, even a way of dressing—far more influential, with its black shirts, than Armani, Benetton, or Versace would ever be. It was only in the Thirties that fascist movements appeared, with Mosley, in Great Britain, and in Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Greece, Yugoslavia, Spain, Portugal, Norway, and even in South America. It was Italian fascism that convinced many European liberal leaders that the new regime was carrying out interesting social reform, and that it was providing a mildly revolutionary alternative to the Communist threat.

Nevertheless, historical priority does not seem to me a sufficient reason to explain why the word fascism became a synecdoche, that is, a word that could be used for different totalitarian movements. This is not because fascism contained in itself, so to speak in their quintessential state, all the elements of any later form of totalitarianism. On the contrary, fascism had no quintessence. Fascism was a fuzzy totalitarianism, a collage of different philosophical and political ideas, a beehive of contradictions. Can one conceive of a truly totalitarian movement that was able to combine monarchy with revolution, the Royal Army with Mussolini’s personal milizia, the grant of privileges to the Church with state education extolling violence, absolute state control with a free market? The Fascist Party was born boasting that it brought a revolutionary new order; but it was financed by the most conservative among the landowners who expected from it a counter-revolution. At its beginning fascism was republican. Yet it survived for twenty years proclaiming its loyalty to the royal family, while the Duce (the unchallenged Maximal Leader) was arm-in-arm with the King, to whom he also offered the title of Emperor. But when the King fired Mussolini in 1943, the party reappeared two months later, with German support, under the standard of a “social” republic, recycling its old revolutionary script, now enriched with almost Jacobin overtones.

There was only a single Nazi architecture and a single Nazi art. If the Nazi architect was Albert Speer, there was no more room for Mies van der Rohe. Similarly, under Stalin’s rule, if Lamarck was right there was no room for Darwin. In Italy there were certainly fascist architects but close to their pseudo-Coliseums were many new buildings inspired by the modern rationalism of Gropius.

There was no fascist Zhdanov setting a strictly cultural line. In Italy there were two important art awards. The Premio Cremona was controlled by a fanatical and uncultivated Fascist, Roberto Farinacci, who encouraged art as propaganda. (I can remember paintings with such titles as Listening by Radio to the Duce’s Speech or States of Mind Created by Fascism.) The Premio Bergamo was sponsored by the cultivated and reasonably tolerant Fascist Giuseppe Bottai, who protected both the concept of art for art’s sake and the many kinds of avant-garde art that had been banned as corrupt and crypto-Communist in Germany.

The national poet was D’Annunzio, a dandy who in Germany or in Russia would have been sent to the firing squad. He was appointed as the bard of the regime because of his nationalism and his cult of heroism—which were in fact abundantly mixed up with influences of French fin de siècle decadence.

Take Futurism. One might think it would have been considered an instance of entartete Kunst, along with Expressionism, Cubism, and Surrealism. But the early Italian Futurists were nationalist; they favored Italian participation in the First World War for aesthetic reasons; they celebrated speed, violence, and risk, all of which somehow seemed to connect with the fascist cult of youth. While fascism identified itself with the Roman Empire and rediscovered rural traditions, Marinetti (who proclaimed that a car was more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace, and wanted to kill even the moonlight) was nevertheless appointed as a member of the Italian Academy, which treated moonlight with great respect.

Many of the future partisans and of the future intellectuals of the Communist Party were educated by the GUF, the fascist university students’ association, which was supposed to be the cradle of the new fascist culture. These clubs became a sort of intellectual melting pot where new ideas circulated without any real ideological control. It was not that the men of the party were tolerant of radical thinking, but few of them had the intellectual equipment to control it.

During those twenty years, the poetry of Montale and other writers associated with the group called the Ermetici was a reaction to the bombastic style of the regime, and these poets were allowed to develop their literary protest from within what was seen as their ivory tower. The mood of the Ermetici poets was exactly the reverse of the fascist cult of optimism and heroism. The regime tolerated their blatant, even though socially imperceptible, dissent because the Fascists simply did not pay attention to such arcane language.

All this does not mean that Italian fascism was tolerant. Gramsci was put in prison until his death; the opposition leaders Giacomo Matteotti and the brothers Rosselli were assassinated; the free press was abolished, the labor unions were dismantled, and political dissenters were confined on remote islands. Legislative power became a mere fiction and the executive power (which controlled the judiciary as well as the mass media) directly issued new laws, among them laws calling for preservation of the race (the formal Italian gesture of support for what became the Holocaust).

The contradictory picture I describe was not the result of tolerance but of political and ideological discombobulation. But it was a rigid discombobulation, a structured confusion. Fascism was philosophically out of joint, but emotionally it was firmly fastened to some archetypal foundations.

So we come to my second point. There was only one Nazism. We cannot label Franco’s hyper-Catholic Falangism as Nazism, since Nazism is fundamentally pagan, polytheistic, and anti-Christian. But the fascist game can be played in many forms, and the name of the game does not change. The notion of fascism is not unlike Wittgenstein’s notion of a game. A game can be either competitive or not, it can require some special skill or none, it can or cannot involve money. Games are different activities that display only some “family resemblance,” as Wittgenstein put it. Consider the following sequence:

                                          1    2    3   4

                                       abc bcd cde def

Suppose there is a series of political groups in which group one is characterized by the features abc, group two by the features bcd, and so on. Group two is similar to group one since they have two features in common; for the same reasons three is similar to two and four is similar to three. Notice that three is also similar to one (they have in common the feature c). The most curious case is presented by four, obviously similar to three and two, but with no feature in common with one. However, owing to the uninterrupted series of decreasing similarities between one and four, there remains, by a sort of illusory transitivity, a family resemblance between four and one.

Fascism became an all-purpose term because one can eliminate from a fascist regime one or more features, and it will still be recognizable as fascist. Take away imperialism from fascism and you still have Franco and Salazar. Take away colonialism and you still have the Balkan fascism of the Ustashes. Add to the Italian fascism a radical anti-capitalism (which never much fascinated Mussolini) and you have Ezra Pound. Add a cult of Celtic mythology and the Grail mysticism (completely alien to official fascism) and you have one of the most respected fascist gurus, Julius Evola.

But in spite of this fuzziness, I think it is possible to outline a list of features that are typical of what I would like to call Ur-Fascism, or Eternal Fascism. These features cannot be organized into a system; many of them contradict each other, and are also typical of other kinds of despotism or fanaticism. But it is enough that one of them be present to allow fascism to coagulate around it.

1. The first feature of Ur-Fascism is the cult of tradition. Traditionalism is of course much older than fascism. Not only was it typical of counter-revolutionary Catholic thought after the French revolution, but it was born in the late Hellenistic era, as a reaction to classical Greek rationalism. In the Mediterranean basin, people of different religions (most of them indulgently accepted by the Roman Pantheon) started dreaming of a revelation received at the dawn of human history. This revelation, according to the traditionalist mystique, had remained for a long time concealed under the veil of forgotten languages—in Egyptian hieroglyphs, in the Celtic runes, in the scrolls of the little known religions of Asia.

This new culture had to be syncretistic. Syncretism is not only, as the dictionary says, “the combination of different forms of belief or practice”; such a combination must tolerate contradictions. Each of the original messages contains a sliver of wisdom, and whenever they seem to say different or incompatible things it is only because all are alluding, allegorically, to the same primeval truth.

As a consequence, there can be no advancement of learning. Truth has been already spelled out once and for all, and we can only keep interpreting its obscure message.

One has only to look at the syllabus of every fascist movement to find the major traditionalist thinkers. The Nazi gnosis was nourished by traditionalist, syncretistic, occult elements. The most influential theoretical source of the theories of the new Italian right, Julius Evola, merged the Holy Grail with The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, alchemy with the Holy Roman and Germanic Empire. The very fact that the Italian right, in order to show its open-mindedness, recently broadened its syllabus to include works by De Maistre, Guenon, and Gramsci, is a blatant proof of syncretism.

If you browse in the shelves that, in American bookstores, are labeled as New Age, you can find there even Saint Augustine who, as far as I know, was not a fascist. But combining Saint Augustine and Stonehenge—that is a symptom of Ur-Fascism.

2. Traditionalism implies the rejection of modernism. Both Fascists and Nazis worshiped technology, while traditionalist thinkers usually reject it as a negation of traditional spiritual values. However, even though Nazism was proud of its industrial achievements, its praise of modernism was only the surface of an ideology based upon Blood and Earth (Blut und Boden). The rejection of the modern world was disguised as a rebuttal of the capitalistic way of life, but it mainly concerned the rejection of the Spirit of 1789 (and of 1776, of course). The Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, is seen as the beginning of modern depravity. In this sense Ur-Fascism can be defined as irrationalism.

3. Irrationalism also depends on the cult of action for action’s sake. Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation. Therefore culture is suspect insofar as it is identified with critical attitudes. Distrust of the intellectual world has always been a symptom of Ur-Fascism, from Goering’s alleged statement (“When I hear talk of culture I reach for my gun”) to the frequent use of such expressions as “degenerate intellectuals,” “eggheads,” “effete snobs,” “universities are a nest of reds.” The official Fascist intellectuals were mainly engaged in attacking modern culture and the liberal intelligentsia for having betrayed traditional values.

4. No syncretistic faith can withstand analytical criticism. The critical spirit makes distinctions, and to distinguish is a sign of modernism. In modern culture the scientific community praises disagreement as a way to improve knowledge. For Ur-Fascism, disagreement is treason.

5. Besides, disagreement is a sign of diversity. Ur-Fascism grows up and seeks for consensus by exploiting and exacerbating the natural fear of difference. The first appeal of a fascist or prematurely fascist movement is an appeal against the intruders. Thus Ur-Fascism is racist by definition.

6. Ur-Fascism derives from individual or social frustration. That is why one of the most typical features of the historical fascism was the appeal to a frustrated middle class, a class suffering from an economic crisis or feelings of political humiliation, and frightened by the pressure of lower social groups. In our time, when the old “proletarians” are becoming petty bourgeois (and the lumpen are largely excluded from the political scene), the fascism of tomorrow will find its audience in this new majority.

7. To people who feel deprived of a clear social identity, Ur-Fascism says that their only privilege is the most common one, to be born in the same country. This is the origin of nationalism. Besides, the only ones who can provide an identity to the nation are its enemies. Thus at the root of the Ur-Fascist psychology there is the obsession with a plot, possibly an international one. The followers must feel besieged. The easiest way to solve the plot is the appeal to xenophobia. But the plot must also come from the inside: Jews are usually the best target because they have the advantage of being at the same time inside and outside. In the US, a prominent instance of the plot obsession is to be found in Pat Robertson’s The New World Order, but, as we have recently seen, there are many others.

8. The followers must feel humiliated by the ostentatious wealth and force of their enemies. When I was a boy I was taught to think of Englishmen as the five-meal people. They ate more frequently than the poor but sober Italians. Jews are rich and help each other through a secret web of mutual assistance. However, the followers must be convinced that they can overwhelm the enemies. Thus, by a continuous shifting of rhetorical focus, the enemies are at the same time too strong and too weak. Fascist governments are condemned to lose wars because they are constitutionally incapable of objectively evaluating the force of the enemy.

9. For Ur-Fascism there is no struggle for life but, rather, life is lived for struggle. Thus pacifism is trafficking with the enemy. It is bad because life is permanent warfare. This, however, brings about an Armageddon complex. Since enemies have to be defeated, there must be a final battle, after which the movement will have control of the world. But such a “final solution” implies a further era of peace, a Golden Age, which contradicts the principle of permanent war. No fascist leader has ever succeeded in solving this predicament.

10. Elitism is a typical aspect of any reactionary ideology, insofar as it is fundamentally aristocratic, and aristocratic and militaristic elitism cruelly implies contempt for the weak. Ur-Fascism can only advocate a popular elitism. Every citizen belongs to the best people of the world, the members of the party are the best among the citizens, every citizen can (or ought to) become a member of the party. But there cannot be patricians without plebeians. In fact, the Leader, knowing that his power was not delegated to him democratically but was conquered by force, also knows that his force is based upon the weakness of the masses; they are so weak as to need and deserve a ruler. Since the group is hierarchically organized (according to a military model), every subordinate leader despises his own underlings, and each of them despises his inferiors. This reinforces the sense of mass elitism.

11. In such a perspective everybody is educated to become a hero. In every mythology the hero is an exceptional being, but in Ur-Fascist ideology, heroism is the norm. This cult of heroism is strictly linked with the cult of death. It is not by chance that a motto of the Falangists was Viva la Muerte (in English it should be translated as “Long Live Death!”). In non-fascist societies, the lay public is told that death is unpleasant but must be faced with dignity; believers are told that it is the painful way to reach a supernatural happiness. By contrast, the Ur-Fascist hero craves heroic death, advertised as the best reward for a heroic life. The Ur-Fascist hero is impatient to die. In his impatience, he more frequently sends other people to death.

12. Since both permanent war and heroism are difficult games to play, the Ur-Fascist transfers his will to power to sexual matters. This is the origin of machismo (which implies both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality). Since even sex is a difficult game to play, the Ur-Fascist hero tends to play with weapons—doing so becomes an ersatz phallic exercise.

13. Ur-Fascism is based upon a selective populism, a qualitative populism, one might say. In a democracy, the citizens have individual rights, but the citizens in their entirety have a political impact only from a quantitative point of view—one follows the decisions of the majority. For Ur-Fascism, however, individuals as individuals have no rights, and the People is conceived as a quality, a monolithic entity expressing the Common Will. Since no large quantity of human beings can have a common will, the Leader pretends to be their interpreter. Having lost their power of delegation, citizens do not act; they are only called on to play the role of the People. Thus the People is only a theatrical fiction. To have a good instance of qualitative populism we no longer need the Piazza Venezia in Rome or the Nuremberg Stadium. There is in our future a TV or Internet populism, in which the emotional response of a selected group of citizens can be presented and accepted as the Voice of the People.

Because of its qualitative populism Ur-Fascism must be against “rotten” parliamentary governments. One of the first sentences uttered by Mussolini in the Italian parliament was “I could have transformed this deaf and gloomy place into a bivouac for my maniples”—“maniples” being a subdivision of the traditional Roman legion. As a matter of fact, he immediately found better housing for his maniples, but a little later he liquidated the parliament. Wherever a politician casts doubt on the legitimacy of a parliament because it no longer represents the Voice of the People, we can smell Ur-Fascism.

14. Ur-Fascism speaks Newspeak. Newspeak was invented by Orwell, in 1984, as the official language of Ingsoc, English Socialism. But elements of Ur-Fascism are common to different forms of dictatorship. All the Nazi or Fascist schoolbooks made use of an impoverished vocabulary, and an elementary syntax, in order to limit the instruments for complex and critical reasoning. But we must be ready to identify other kinds of Newspeak, even if they take the apparently innocent form of a popular talk show.

On the morning of July 27, 1943, I was told that, according to radio reports, fascism had collapsed and Mussolini was under arrest. When my mother sent me out to buy the newspaper, I saw that the papers at the nearest newsstand had different titles. Moreover, after seeing the headlines, I realized that each newspaper said different things. I bought one of them, blindly, and read a message on the first page signed by five or six political parties—among them the Democrazia Cristiana, the Communist Party, the Socialist Party, the Partito d’Azione, and the Liberal Party.

Until then, I had believed that there was a single party in every country and that in Italy it was the Partito Nazionale Fascista. Now I was discovering that in my country several parties could exist at the same time. Since I was a clever boy, I immediately realized that so many parties could not have been born overnight, and they must have existed for some time as clandestine organizations.

The message on the front celebrated the end of the dictatorship and the return of freedom: freedom of speech, of press, of political association. These words, “freedom,” “dictatorship,” “liberty,”—I now read them for the first time in my life. I was reborn as a free Western man by virtue of these new words.

We must keep alert, so that the sense of these words will not be forgotten again. Ur-Fascism is still around us, sometimes in plainclothes. It would be so much easier, for us, if there appeared on the world scene somebody saying, “I want to reopen Auschwitz, I want the Black Shirts to parade again in the Italian squares.” Life is not that simple. Ur-Fascism can come back under the most innocent of disguises. Our duty is to uncover it and to point our finger at any of its new instances—every day, in every part of the world. Franklin Roosevelt’s words of November 4, 1938, are worth recalling: “I venture the challenging statement that if American democracy ceases to move forward as a living force, seeking day and night by peaceful means to better the lot of our citizens, fascism will grow in strength in our land.” Freedom and liberation are an unending task.

Let me finish with a poem by Franco Fortini:

Sulla spalletta del ponte Le teste degli impiccati Nell’acqua della fonte La bava degli impiccati.

Sul lastrico del mercato Le unghie dei fucilati Sull’erba secca del prato I denti dei fucilati.

Mordere l’aria mordere i sassi La nostra carne non è più d’uomini Mordere l’aria mordere i sassi Il nostro cuore non è più d’uomini.

Ma noi s’è letto negli occhi dei morti E sulla terra faremo libertà Ma l’hanno stretta i pugni dei morti La giustizia che si farà.

* * *

(On the bridge’s parapet                                                                                 The heads of the hanged                                                                                 In the flowing rivulet                                                                                      The spittle of the hanged.

On the cobbles in the market- places The fingernails of those lined up and shot On the dry grass in the open spaces The broken teeth of those lined up and shot.

Biting the air, biting the stones Our flesh is no longer human Biting the air, biting the stones Our hearts are no longer human.

But we have read into the eyes of the dead And shall bring freedom on the earth But clenched tight in the fists of the dead Lies the justice to be served.) —poem translated by Stephen Sartarelli

Copyright © by Umberto Eco

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings February 22, 2020 at 11:00PM

Psalm 148-150

Psalm 148

Praise for God’s Universal Glory

1 Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights! 2 Praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his host!

3 Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars! 4 Praise him, you highest heavens, and you waters above the heavens!

5 Let them praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created. 6 He established them forever and ever; he fixed their bounds, which cannot be passed.[a]

7 Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, 8 fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command!

9 Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! 10 Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds!

11 Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! 12 Young men and women alike, old and young together!

13 Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his glory is above earth and heaven. 14 He has raised up a horn for his people, praise for all his faithful, for the people of Israel who are close to him. Praise the Lord!

Psalm 149

Praise for God’s Goodness to Israel

1 Praise the Lord! Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the faithful. 2 Let Israel be glad in its Maker; let the children of Zion rejoice in their King. 3 Let them praise his name with dancing, making melody to him with tambourine and lyre. 4 For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with victory. 5 Let the faithful exult in glory; let them sing for joy on their couches. 6 Let the high praises of God be in their throats and two-edged swords in their hands, 7 to execute vengeance on the nations and punishment on the peoples, 8 to bind their kings with fetters and their nobles with chains of iron, 9 to execute on them the judgment decreed. This is glory for all his faithful ones. Praise the Lord!

Psalm 150

Praise for God’s Surpassing Greatness

1 Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament![b] 2 Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!

3 Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! 4 Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with strings and pipe! 5 Praise him with clanging cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals! 6 Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 148:6 Or he set a law that cannot pass away

Psalm 150:1 Or dome

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 114-115

Psalm 114

God’s Wonders at the Exodus

1 When Israel went out from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, 2 Judah became God’s[a] sanctuary, Israel his dominion.

3 The sea looked and fled; Jordan turned back. 4 The mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs.

5 Why is it, O sea, that you flee? O Jordan, that you turn back? 6 O mountains, that you skip like rams? O hills, like lambs?

7 Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, 8 who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water.

Psalm 115

The Impotence of Idols and the Greatness of God

1 Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness. 2 Why should the nations say, “Where is their God?”

3 Our God is in the heavens; he does whatever he pleases. 4 Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. 5 They have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. 6 They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. 7 They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; they make no sound in their throats. 8 Those who make them are like them; so are all who trust in them.

9 O Israel, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield. 10 O house of Aaron, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield. 11 You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield.

12 The Lord has been mindful of us; he will bless us; he will bless the house of Israel; he will bless the house of Aaron; 13 he will bless those who fear the Lord, both small and great.

14 May the Lord give you increase, both you and your children. 15 May you be blessed by the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

16 The heavens are the Lord’s heavens, but the earth he has given to human beings. 17 The dead do not praise the Lord, nor do any that go down into silence. 18 But we will bless the Lord from this time on and forevermore. Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 114:2 Heb his

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Sirach 48:1-11

Elijah

48 Then Elijah arose, a prophet like fire, and his word burned like a torch. 2 He brought a famine upon them, and by his zeal he made them few in number. 3 By the word of the Lord he shut up the heavens, and also three times brought down fire. 4 How glorious you were, Elijah, in your wondrous deeds! Whose glory is equal to yours? 5 You raised a corpse from death and from Hades, by the word of the Most High. 6 You sent kings down to destruction, and famous men, from their sickbeds. 7 You heard rebuke at Sinai and judgments of vengeance at Horeb. 8 You anointed kings to inflict retribution, and prophets to succeed you.[a] 9 You were taken up by a whirlwind of fire, in a chariot with horses of fire. 10 At the appointed time, it is written, you are destined[b] to calm the wrath of God before it breaks out in fury, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and to restore the tribes of Jacob. 11 Happy are those who saw you and were adorned[c] with your love! For we also shall surely live.[d]

Footnotes:

Sirach 48:8 Heb: Gk him

Sirach 48:10 Heb: Gk are for reproofs

Sirach 48:11 Other ancient authorities read and have died

Sirach 48:11 Text and meaning of Gk uncertain

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

2 Corinthians 3:7-18

7 Now if the ministry of death, chiseled in letters on stone tablets,[a] came in glory so that the people of Israel could not gaze at Moses’ face because of the glory of his face, a glory now set aside, 8 how much more will the ministry of the Spirit come in glory? 9 For if there was glory in the ministry of condemnation, much more does the ministry of justification abound in glory! 10 Indeed, what once had glory has lost its glory because of the greater glory; 11 for if what was set aside came through glory, much more has the permanent come in glory!

12 Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness, 13 not like Moses, who put a veil over his face to keep the people of Israel from gazing at the end of the glory that[b] was being set aside. 14 But their minds were hardened. Indeed, to this very day, when they hear the reading of the old covenant, that same veil is still there, since only in Christ is it set aside. 15 Indeed, to this very day whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their minds; 16 but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. 17 Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18 And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.

Footnotes:

2 Corinthians 3:7 Gk on stones

2 Corinthians 3:13 Gk of what

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Luke 9:18-27

Peter’s Declaration about Jesus

18 Once when Jesus[a] was praying alone, with only the disciples near him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” 19 They answered, “John the Baptist; but others, Elijah; and still others, that one of the ancient prophets has arisen.” 20 He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered, “The Messiah[b] of God.”

Jesus Foretells His Death and Resurrection

21 He sternly ordered and commanded them not to tell anyone, 22 saying, “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”

23 Then he said to them all, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. 24 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it. 25 What does it profit them if they gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit themselves? 26 Those who are ashamed of me and of my words, of them the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. 27 But truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God.”

Footnotes:

Luke 9:18 Gk he

Luke 9:20 Or The Christ

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!