#you just have to invoke the name of “Peter”

[nocophobia]

Peter Spankoffski but it’s my AU (Check previous posts for details) (Tumblr ISTG if you delete this ENTIRE rewrite I will bite you)

“A Spankoffski! I’m gonna have the whole set in my toy box!”

Peter knew from the moment he heard Tinky invoke his surname, that there was something to these mysterious Lords in Black that he could never fathom. With all of the drama that happened after that single moment, it was easy for Pete to forget his family name was ever mentioned, But fortunately, after the entire ordeal was over, and he had willingly handed himself over to a mysterious being he knew nothing about, Pete got to revisit that memory over and over from every day on after that event. He remembered that memory vividly, but the memory didn’t stop. He started remembering everything, Things that hadn’t happened yet, things that he wasn’t even there for, things that were so tiny and minuscule that they shouldn’t even begin to matter. Every memory at once started to overlap after several days, every minute being worse than the last. Pete couldn’t focus on the world around him, because he at this point didn’t even know which one was his.

Overstimulation overwhelm, migraines, and anxiety attacks became increasingly more common in his daily routine. Pete started to isolate himself from his friends. Even Stephanie, who desperately needed his help the most. With every choice he made his focus would branch off into another what-if scenario. It would continue in an instant overlapping forever. Every table he sat at, every route he took, he perfectly could see a world in which he chose differently, and it was driving him slowly insane.

With a complete mental break just around the corner, Pete made a desperate, unserious, selfish wish that anyone, anyone at all could take his burden from him. In hindsight, he would have never wished that had he known it would’ve come true and sent a random teen to a mental hospital. He felt horrible, but the relief, the small long missed relief he felt from the awareness transfer was addicting and healing. Pete finally knew how to maintain his sanity with his newfound godly curse, but he grew to learn that he would wish he didn’t.

Pete most likely had it worst of the bunch because now, even though he could use his powers to an advantage, even though he could have several victims to watch and sadistically laugh at, he was too morally in the right ever wish harm or suffering onto an undeserving soul. He’s forever now met with a dilemma that will haunt him more than any vision, memory, or what if. He’d have to torment to survive and to him, that is torture in itself. It seems that, though he is given much more freedom than most of Tnoy Karaxis’s toys, it goes to show that in the end, despite his gifts, he is still just a toy, like all Spankoffskis are meant to be.

TLDR: Peter gets the royal Time Bastard treatment with perks and he buys noise cancelling headphones.

[palfriendpatine66]

Hello friend! I was thinking about PiP (always) and I remembered Obi-Wan telling Anakin that he's had some... regretful hair cuts in the past. Then I remembered that Suit Life of Zach and Cody episode where Cody dyes his hair and I ended up coming up with this little scene for my It Takes a Village WIP. Since PiP inspired it I wanted to share it with you! 💖

---

Obi-Wan stepped lightly away from Korkie’s room, avoiding the creaky spot just outside the door, and made his way into the living room. It had been a hectic few days getting all of Anakin's belongings moved over and (mostly) unpacked. Padme hadn't been kidding when she said he didn't have many household belongings - he had a grand total of two bowls, three plates, miscellaneous silverware that were all mismatched and Obi-Wan suspected came from various restaurants, and a handful of other appliances. The only furniture he opted to keep was his bed, deciding that the sad excuse for a drooping couch wasn't worth putting in storage for when he eventually moved out.

What she hadn't told him about, though, was the sheer amount of things Anakin had. Apparently Anakin partook in many different hobbies, depending on his mood. He had random computer and robotics circuitry and parts, surprisingly soft yarn and a pair of knitting needles that appeared to have seen better days, an empty fish bowl that now housed an assortment of rocks, and various tools that Obi-Wan was secretly glad Anakin was bringing into the house (his dinky little toolbox was paltry in comparison and he was positive that taking care of Korkie - and Anakin - would require something to be repaired in the future).

But they had finally finished finding homes for everything. And in the process, Anakin had found a few of Obi-Wan's belongings that he decided needed to also be re-housed. Namely, an old scrapbook Qui-Gon had given him as a housewarming present years ago. Qui-Gon and Padme had meticulously included copies of everything from their lives together from copies of Obi-Wan's adoption papers, pictures of Obi-Wan cuddling with his newborn sister, notes that Padme had found between herself and Obi-Wan, to pictures of Obi-Wan in front of the house holding the first box he brought in. While he cherished the book - and the memories it invoked - he had had it in a drawer of a side table in the living room. Now Anakin insisted it needed a more prominent position. He also briefly mentioned starting one for Korkie, but when Obi-Wan asked him about it he quickly changed the subject.

When Obi-Wan sat down on the couch next to Anakin he was hardly surprised to see his new roommate looking through the pictures. He hadn't had the chance to get through all of it, but once he got permission to look he had become determined to look at everything it contained.

“Aw, you dressed up with Padme for Halloween!”

“Oh yes, I remember that year. She was obsessed with Peter Pan.” Obi-Wan chuckled. “She loved that he and I had matching hair, so she decided it would be perfect for us to go as Peter and Tinkerbell.”

“That's adorable.” The smile on Anakin's face made Obi-Wan's night in uncomfortable green tights worth it. Mostly. “Not many teenagers would have agreed to go out with their little sister, let alone dress up.”

“Well, you know she and I have always been close. Besides, when she wants her way she knows exactly what to say to get it. There's a reason she’s going to school for politics.”

Anakin turned the page and froze, Obi-Wan letting out a groan that was much too loud for naptime when he saw what caught his eye.

“What. Is this?”

In the picture, seventeen year old Obi-Wan had a scowl on his face while his mom fretted behind him trying in equal parts to help and not to laugh. Instead of his usual auburn hair that Anakin had always seen, his locks were a bright, Christmas red.

“What you have to understand is-”

“How have I never seen this before?! Surely I would have remembered this hairstyle!”

Obi-Wan's forehead dropped into his hand. “I was mad at Qui-Gon for not letting me do something - I don't even remember what. So when I was at a friend’s house we had decided a great way at getting back at him would be to dye my hair.”

“You picked this color?!”

“No! We dyed it black. Needless to say, mom and dad were not pleased when I came home. I think that was the closest I've ever seen Qui-Gon to being angry with me. He immediately drove me to the store and we got bleach and a box of hair dye that looked like it would be close to my natural color. When we got back, mom tried her best but this was the result. It was supposed to be ‘Honey Mist Auburn’ if I remember correctly.”

Anakin bit his lip, trying desperately to hold back a laugh. “Honey, you missed auburn big time.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and Anakin let out a guffaw.

“Yes, well. We ended up having to go to a salon. That was when I had that horrible, short haircut, remember? Most of my hair ended up so damaged that they had to chop it off. But at least they were able to salvage the color and I didn't have to shave it.”

Anakin hid his face in Obi-Wan's shoulder to try and quiet his laughs. He knew what Korkie would be like if you woke him up too soon from his nap and he didn't want to start their co-habitation on the wrong foot. Obi-Wan found he didn't mind. He actually quite enjoyed feeling Anakin's body vibrate with his mirth and the hot puffs of breath against his neck. He smiled to himself, despite looking directly at picture evidence of his youthful mistakes.

Ok first I’m going to make this about me for a hot second. That’s twice tonight someone’s told me they’re still thinking about PiP. And my heart. Seriously. I cannot tell you just how happy this makes me. And that any part of it INSPIRED something more? Crying.

Ok. Now that I’ve gotten me out of the way:

I need to know more about this au!!!!

Yes to weird junk drawer pack rat Anakin.

Yes to stolen silverware.

Yes to honey auburn mist!!!!!

[amageish]

So, Nico Minoru's in Spider-Man Freshman Year... Let's talk about it.

About a year ago, Marvel spilled some details about the upcoming animated Spider-Man series, Spider-Man Freshman Year. There was a lot of discussion about it, what it was, what it wasn't, and whether what it is is better or worse then what people wanted it to be.

A couple weeks ago, a trademark filing indicated that the show was scheduled for Winter 2024. In an era where companies are killing announced and nearly-finished projects, I was honestly thinking the show was on thin ice... but since it seems to still exist, I want to talk about something that I feel has gotten surprisingly little discussion in all the discourse about the show: the inclusion of Nico Minoru, of the Runaways, as Peter Parker's best friend.

Now, from a Peter-centered perspective, I think this choice makes sense in a very specific way? If you flash back to the original 60s Spider-Man comics, which the show seems to be trying to invoke aesthetically from the little we've seen, Peter Parker had a female close friend who was representative of 1960s youth counter-culture: Mary Jane.

The degree to which Stan Lee's own values undercut MJ's counter-culturism is something that people could/do entire academic essays about, but suffice it to say that she was meant to appeal to the zeitgeist of the era and the character's spirit certainly got through to viewers. Like, there is a reason that she the OTP for Peter for so many people, even if Lee at the time had intended to keep the focus on Peter's more traditionally conservative romance with Gwen Stacy.

Nico Minoru slots into this classic pre-MJ-as-the-love-interest MJ role very well, in my opinion at least? In her 2000s comics, she was cast as a edgy goth social outcast who made her own clothes and did her own thing... In her 2010s MCU show, she was cast again as an outcast, but with a certain amount of doomerpilled depression that she outgrows as the show goes on... In the 2020s game Midnight Suns, Nico is still a devoted goth, but also draws from queer youth culture and has a certain semi-ironic peppiness to her (she calls the player "friendo" constantly - she's just like me fr).

So, honestly, I think picking Nico Minoru for Spider-Man's best friend is a really clever move that slots her into this historical role of the foil to Peter Parker - fun choice!

However, from a Nico-centered perspective, I have a lot of questions about what this version of the character will be like practically... The biggest one being: Why is Nico in New York? One of the core concepts of the Runaways as a team is that they are a response to the oft-asked question "Why is New York always under threat? Why are there no superheroes having to save LA?". While the West Coast Avengers do, y'know, exist, the Runaways introduces another answer to this question: Supervillains cannot operate in LA without permission of the Pride, a LA-based supervillain mafia who made a pact with a demon from Limbo and require a cut of all crime committed in the city. The titular Runaways are the children of these villains, who choose to reject their parent's lifestyle and go on the run rather then be complicit in their villainy.

So... How did Nico get in New York and end up enrolling in a New York high school? That's a big change for her and I hope the explanation is satisfying.

Nico and her team also don't usually appear as traditional costumed heroes with secret identities, at least not for prolonged periods of time. They've used several codenames and several costumes, but it's always bit a touch comedic - Nico goes by "Sister Grimm" because they decide they need nicknames to be superheroes as somewhat-cringy-teens while she later uses "The Gloom" partially at the encouragement of her girlfriend, but she's still largely just... Nico. It's worth noting that both Midnight Suns and Marvel Snap break naming conventions to call her by her first/last name instead of an alias - something Snap mostly does with big-deal characters like Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde, with even other characters more known by their real name like Emma Frost and Danielle Moonstar being called by their hero names instead...

So, I'm curious if Nico will be using her powers to fight crime and, if she is, what codename/costume she has... On top of that, I wonder if Peter Parker will know that Nico is a blood witch and if Nico will know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man - or if they mutually uncover that across the events of the series... Doctor Strange is also set to be in this show - will he be a mentor for her as a budding witch, perhaps even more then he is a mentor for Peter? There's a lot of possibilities there too.

Finally, there's the big question of Nico Minoru's queerness. Now, there's basically two lists of Marvel queers - the characters written as queer by the writers and artists at Marvel and the characters Marvel corporate have actually approved as being queer and stamped with a big rainbow stamp of approval. This is what separates your "did a gay kiss once" characters from your "paraded out every June" characters...

Nico is in the latter category and is potentially one of the most corporate-approved queer characters there are. This girl is BISEXUAL and Marvel is uncharacteristically interested in making sure you know it. She got a Pride variant cover kissing her girlfriend when Pearlmutter was still at the company. Her MCU show is full of gay kisses and has not one but TWO fantasy gay wedding sequences (it also got removed from Disney+ earlier this year, funny that).

Now, uh, America Chavez is basically the face of Sapphic Marvel in the comics and her queerness got reduced to a Pride pin in her movie, so I'm not sure if Nico's bisexuality will be acknowledged in the show given that precedent... but I sure hope it does!!! It'd be cute if Karolina pops in too, helping her girlfriend out with whatever antics she gets into... She wasn't in the initial revealed character line-up, but I could also see them waiting to reveal her and hoping to get hype specifically from shippers who haven't thought about the pairing in a few years since the Runaways TV show ended.

ANYWAY. That was a lot of thoughts, but I'm just very curious what's going to happen here... I love Nico and am eager to see her in this show, but it also just feels like such an unconventional choice... to the point where I am apparently thinking about it this hard a year later.

[talonabraxas]

The Heptameron Conjuration of Jupiter

Another somewhat more involved prayer can be adapted from the Heptameron, a grimoire of spirit invocation attributed to Peter de Abano. A translation of the Heptameron by Joseph H. Peterson is available at Esoteric Archives. Rather than appealing to Jupiter himself, this invocation approaches the spirit by appealing to other spirits in the same cosmic hierarchy. The Heptameron also involves facing and calling upon spirits of the different directions. You can think of this type of prayer as locating yourself within the Great Chain of Being so as to best position yourself to appeal to a particular spirit.

This particular invocation invokes the planetary archangel of Jupiter, known as Sachiel (or Tzadkiel). The Heptameron planetary invocations are prefaced by invocations of angels of the relevant level of heaven in the four directions. Above the fifth heaven (the sphere of Mars) there are no angels of the air, so the prayers to Jupiter have more general prayers to a higher God rather than to a specific retinue of angels. An abbreviated ritual for appealing to the angel of Jupiter could go as follows:

[Facing East:] O great and most high God, honored world without end.

[Facing West:] O wise, pure and just God, of divine clemency, I beseech thee most holy father, that this day I may perfectly understand and accomplish my petition, work, and labor; Thou who livest and reignest world without end, Amen.

[Facing North:] O God strong and mighty from everlasting.

[Facing South:] O mighty and merciful God.

[Continuing to face South:] I Conjure and Confirm upon you, ye holy Angels, and by the name Cados, Cados, Cados, Eschereie, Eschereie, Eschereie, Hatim, Ya, strong founder of the worlds, Cantine, Jaym, Janic, Anic, Calbot, Sabbac, Berifay, Alnaym: And by the name Adonay, who created Fishes, and Creeping things in the waters, and Birds upon the face of the earth, and flying towards Heaven, in the fifth day; and by the names of the Angels serving in the sixth host, before Pastor, a holy Angel, and a great and powerful Prince; and by the name of his Star, which is Jupiter, and by the name of his Seal, and by the name Adonay, the great God, creator of all things; and by the name of all Stars, and by their Power and Virtue, and by all the names aforesaid, I conjure thee, Sachiel a great Angel, who art chief ruler of Thursday, that for me thou labour, [speak your own petition or request here]. —Heptameron, XXII. Considerations for Thursday,

"Assembly of Gods around Jupiter's Throne" Talon Abraxas

[wilburwhateley]

Hooptober X

For those of you who use Letterboxd (or who just want something semi-structured to distract you for at least 31 days), Hooptober is on again--31 Horror movies in 31 days, initiated originally by Cinemonster. It is a challenge sort of deal, and I have transferred-over the list criteria from their updated post below. Click-into the link to Cinemonster's list description on Letterboxd to retrieve the Screambox link for a complimentary channel trial. I am starting early, as well, since I have a lot on my plate. Plus I get to start my Halloween celebration early. Again.

Here's the list:

"There must be 31 films 6 countries 8 decades 2 post apocalyptic or natural disaster related films

1 film with Robert Englund 1 something is underground film 3 Satan/Devil centered films 1 Amicus film. The worst Dracula film (by Letterboxd rating) that you haven't seen and can access. 1 LGBTQ+ connected film 5 Films from De Palma, Wes Craven, Ken Russell, Hitchcock and/or Moorehead & Benson. 2 Peter Cushing films 1 film based on a work of or invoking the name Bram Stoker 1 film based on a Clive Barker story 1 film that was released the year that you turned 10 1 Mario Bava film. 1 film with an 'x' in the title 

And 1 Tobe Hooper Film (There must ALWAYS be a Hooper film)

***FOR THOSE THAT LIKE TO DO EXTRA WORK: WATCH The Zodiac Killer and 10 Rillington Place. Like last year, there is a third film: Shaky Shivers."

[thethirdgenesisbooks]

Five Ways to Name Your Characters

One of the most common problems that authors, especially new authors, complain about is how difficult it is to come up with good names for their characters. Over my many years of writing, I’ve developed a few ways to name characters in stories. Here are a few. Bear in mind, some of these pieces of advice are genre-specific.

Babynames.com:

The site babynames.com is a great source for names from different countries and cultures. You can also look up name meanings or look up the names by the letters that are in them. In general, I recommend against having two main characters in your novel who have names beginning with the same letter, as this can cause confusion. For instance, you shouldn’t have both a “Robert” and a “Roger” among your main characters, because readers will mix them up. Also, while name meanings can be important, I urge you to consider the other factors as well. How does the name sound when spoken out loud? Does the name have negative connotations because of famous people who shared the name (for instance, the name “Adolph” means “Wolf,” which might be cool for some characters, but I strongly recommend against using that name because of its association with a certain, hated historical figure). Also, consider what nationality a character likely has if they have a certain name. A Caucasian boy living in modern California should not have a name like “Shinji,” unless he happened to be raised by Japanese parents, just as a native Japanese boy living in Tokyo should not be called “Stanley.”

Historical Records:

If you are writing in a certain place and time period, it can be helpful to look up names from that place and time period to create your character names. For example, when I was writing my westerns, sometimes I’d do a Google search for names of people who lived I the Old West. Then, I’d take the first name of one person and the last name of another and put them together. One instance of this would be to take Billy the Kid’s real name (Henry McCarty) and combine it with the name of another Old West outlaw, John Wesley Hardin. Together, we get the names Wesley McCarty and Henry Hardin. If you’re writing a modern story, you can also do this with the names of people you know, or other interesting names you see and hear. When you go to a restaurant to eat, pay attention to the nametags of the people serving you, as you might find a name you really like there.

Mythology:

I recommend only using mythology as a source for names if you are writing fantasy or science fiction stories. If you write a modern murder mystery and your detective’s name is “Thor Odinson,” a lot of readers are going to roll their eyes. I’d also recommend not using terribly well-known mythological names either. Names like Thor, Odin, Apollo, Zeus, Horus, Osirus, Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena, Freya, and Isis are far too well-known to be used, unless you have characters in the setting specifically point out the namesake. Names Fenris, Morrigan, Dorian, and Mordred are also far too common, and their inclusion in fantasy might well pull readers out of the story (again, unless your intention is to specifically invoke parallels to these mythological figures). However, names like Nikke, Selene, Eris, Argus, and Dia are a little more obscure and are less likely to take your reader out of the story. You can also look up the etymology of these names and find alternative ways that they were pronounced and spelled, because names in mythology certainly changed over time.

The Bible:

I know, this one is a touchy subject for a lot of people, but bear with me. For one thing, a lot of names in modern America (and in the Western world at large) come from Biblical names. Peter, Matthew, Joshua, Caleb, Paul, Aaron, John, Michael, Luke, Thadeus, and many others all come from the Bible. You don’t need to have Biblical themes in your work in order to use these Biblical names, because a great many people named “Peter” came from secular families who just happened to like the name, or who wanted to honor a loved one who had that name. Also, if you’re looking for names that sound a bit exotic but also feel familiar, the names listed in the various “begat” sections of the Bible (where it’s just one name after another) can be helpful. I’d just recommend looking up what the name means before using it. I made the mistake of not looking up a name meaning once, and named a villain in one of my stories “Zadok,” a name which means “Righteous.” Those who knew the name meaning would likely either laugh at the irony or just consider me ignorant. Thankfully, I never finished or published that story. In any event, the Bible can be a great source of names.

Alter Real Names:

Sometimes when writing something futuristic, you don’t want real names for your characters, either from modern times or earlier, neither will mythological or Biblical names work in your futuristic setting. We can’t all be Frank Herbert, who’s coming up with such names as Muadib, Atreides, Harkonnen, and Feyd-Rautha, or words like Bene Gesserit, Kwisatz-Haderach, Ginaz, and Faufreluches. Some of us are a little too grounded in reality for that, and often overly-complex words and names such as these end up confusing our readers. So, in order to make a futuristic name, perhaps start with a real name that exists today, and then change a few letters. Maybe remove some letters, add others, and rearrange some. Just as popular names in the real world change over time (see the various ways of spelling such names as “Sean” and “Geoff”), so too would futuristic names change over the years. Even so, your main character probably shouldn’t have too exotic of a name. Maybe give the main character a name that’s one, maybe two syllables long, but spelled slightly differently from its modern equivalent. For example, you may want a main character named “Nick,” but in a futuristic story it might be better to spell it “Nyk.” Or perhaps you want to name your character “John,” and a futuristic version of that name might be “Chon” or “Jahnn.” In any event, changing or rearranging letters in an existing name can be a great way to make your character feel more fantastical or futuristic.

These are just a few examples of how to name your characters. There are still many things to keep in mind, such as cultural context, the way the names sound when spoke out loud, negative connotations or associations of a particular name, name meaning, and whether the name is setting appropriate.

[joezworld]

Life and Rebirth

Traintober 2022 Day 6 - Cat

Hey, remember how I wrote normal stories that made sense? Yeah neither do I. This one's about a cat and a duck. Surely nothing can go wrong, right?

-

Summary - Engines keep Pets. Or do Pets keep Engines?

-

Her eyes narrowed at the supine feline. “You aren’t funny, cat.”

The black cat didn’t bother to open her eyes. “That’s interesting. I think I’m hilarious.” 

“If you don’t want to tell me, then say it; don’t waste my day with your riddles and word games.”

That got a response out of the cat. “Riddles and word games?” She lazily opened one eye. “What sort of nonsense have the idiots in the Coastclan been feeding you?”

The white duck ruffled her wings in irritation. “What you said doesn’t make any sense, and you know it.”

The other eye opened, and Kitten slowly rolled over to look at the duck directly. “Aha. I see now. You think I’m lying.”

“Of course you are!” Dilly bristled. “I don’t even know why I came here. This is absurd!” Again ruffling her feathers, she spread her wings and made to fly.

“If it’s so absurd, then why did you come barging in here like you did? The little black cat asked, slowly but lithely getting to her paws. “I could’ve taken you as an intruder, and eaten you.”

The white duck wrinkled her bill, now both irritated and conflicted. “I don’t have to answer to the likes of you.”

The cat was next to her now, looking her over and sniffing quietly. “Oh but I think you do,” She said, in a tone that was somewhere between smug and curious. “Coal smoke, lubricating grease, just a touch of polish, and…” She sniffed much more deeply. “Sweaty twolegs.”

She looked at Dilly with an entirely too-toothy smile. “Oh my little duckling, you and I are much the same, aren’t we?”

“What?”

The cat continued smiling, wandering around Dilly in a way that made her tailfeathers raise instinctively. “I’m not in any clan, you know. At least, not one that really matters to the others. They all think I’m some coddled kittypet who gave up on the clans to live with the twolegs and their “monsters''...” She drew out the syllables like she was disgusted with the idea, the tag on the collar around her neck shining brightly in the lights. “They have no idea, and they never will.”

She turned, standing up straight on her thin legs to look Dilly in the eyes. “But you do, don’t you?”  

Somehow, despite the cat’s refusal to actually name it, Dilly knew exactly what she was talking about. “I do.” 

The cat turned, her tail whipping out behind her and smacking the duck on her beak. “Follow me.” 

---

“Rheneas…” Peter Sam said carefully. “Why is Kitten walking around the yard with a duck in tow?” 

“Hmm?” Rheneas lazily opened one eye and peered out through the shed doors. “I couldn’t begin to say. I’m sure it’s her business, though.”

“Her business?!” Sir Handel scoffed. “She’s probably going to lead it somewhere so she can eat the thing! The only business she has with that duck is Lunch!” 

Peter Sam went pale, and Skarloey and Rheneas rolled their eyes loud enough to be heard, the two old engines used to Sir Handel and his antics. “I’m sure she’s not going to eat the duck.” Rheneas said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. 

“She’s too good of a hunter to resort to subterfuge like that.” He said, quietly enough that only Skarloey heard him. As Skarloey choked and spluttered on his own surprise, Rheneas closed his eye and fell back asleep. 

Duke, on the other side of the shed, only heard Skarloey’s surprise, and wheeshed steam at Sir Handel sternly. “Now look at what you’ve done!” He hissed. 

“Ow! Whatever was that for?!”

“Don’t. Invoke. The. Cat!”

“Oh you cannot be serious Grandpuff! What nonsense are you talking about now..?”

----

They meandered their way across the many shining pathways between the worlds of the small engines and the huge ones. Dilly learned that cats called these things thunderpaths. Kitten was interested to learn that Ducks didn’t call them anything. 

“So, how did you find yours?” Kitten asked as the duck led the way towards a very large building in the center of the giant thunderpaths. 

“I hatched and he was there.” Dilly said, fluttering her way through an open window. “It’s funny, I thought he was my mother for the longest time. I made it through a few featherlosses before I realized that he must have found my egg.”

“Featherloss?” Kitten asked as she leaped from a pile of boxes to the windowsill, and from there to the ground. She pinned her ears against her head at the sudden amount of noise. “Yeowch. It’s loud in here.”

“Oh, I grow new feathers every few seasons. You get used to it, and the noise.”

“Now I know why I stay with my clan… who could hunt in here?”

“I think there’s a few here who do...” Dilly ruffled her feathers idly as they approached a giant version of Kitten’s clan-mates - this one colored blue. As she did so, Kitten noticed for the first time the hints of discoloration at the tips of Dilly’s wings. “What do we do now?” 

---

“This is an awfully poor time for a joke!” Dilly quacked, not sure to be indignant or frightened. 

“I’m entirely serious.” Kitten replied seriously. She barely paid any attention to what the duck was saying, instead keeping her eyes trained on the Duck’s mannerisms. Now that she was paying attention, she could tell that all was not well. Feathers were starting to grey, there was what looked like mottling on one webbed foot, and each movement wasn’t as fast as it should've been - goodness knows she’s chased enough birds to know how abruptly fast they could be - and all of a sudden, it was obvious that this one wouldn’t get very far. 

“You do know what that is? Right?” Dilly pointed a wing accusingly towards the Hole. Kitten assumed that there was an actual name for it in the twoleg language, but what it was she didn’t know. It was at the back of the metal creature, in the area where the twolegs could stand comfortably. Fire burned brightly inside the hole, the metal door opened ever-so-slightly, causing shadows to dance on the walls. 

“I do.” She said, staring at the duck. 

“And you know that nothing comes back out?”

“Not always.”

A distressed quacking sound met this. “You’re serious! You’re mad! Why did I listen to you!” She puffed herself up a little, trying to seem like the mature mother duck she was, and not some naive fledgling who’d been led astray by a cat!

“Because you’ve got a season left. Maybe two.” She said it as evenly and firmly as she could. “And you know it.”

Dilly deflated like a popped balloon. “What gave it away?” She asked in a suddenly quiet voice.

“It’s obvious if you know where to look.” 

“If I have any more eggs it will kill me,” She said after a moment. “I’m sure of it.”

There was a long silence, with only the roaring crackle of the fire breaking the silence.

“I’m not ready to leave yet.” She said at last, puffing out her feathers and squaring herself. “You’re sure this will work?”

“It worked for me.” 

“That will have to do.” Without another word, she took to the air, fluttering out the back of the cab and over the pile of coal in the tender, before diving back towards the flickering flames. 

Towards eternity. 

---

Had it taken that long for me? Kitten wondered as she stared into the roaring flames. It had been… a while, and there was no sign of the duck yet.

“Feathers?” She called into the flames. “Are you in there?”

No answer was forthcoming, and she gulped nervously. I do not want to have to explain this…

With hesitant movements, she slowly nudged the heavy door open, before taking a step inside.

Her paws slowly moved over the burning coals, the heat not registering, as she scanned back and forth for any sign of white feathers. “You still in here?” She called again, making for a pile of coals at the back of the metal chamber. 

---

Outside, as the last remnants of Kitten’s tail disappeared inside the firebox, two cats - one Calico, and one Tabby - of the WorksClan watched in amazement. 

“I thought she was a myth.” Said the Calico, quietly. 

“Explain that.” The Tabby retorted.

“I don’t want to.” Came the response. “Not to you, not to the elders. Not anyone.”

“I agree.” The Calico said. “We didn’t see anything.”

As one, the two cats turned and bolted for their home inside a disused storeroom. A few bemused workers watched them go, but they wrote it off as just ‘cats being cats.’

---

The afternoon sunlight eventually reached an angle sufficient to enter the windows in the works, and Donald's nap ended with a beam of light in his eye. "Ach, for tha' love a Christmas! Tern it off!"

He continued moaning and complaining until a few of the workmen came and moved him out of the light; his fire had built nicely over the afternoon, and they took the time to examine his cab for any obvious problems. 

Fortunately for Donald, they didn't; the works' repairs were up to the usual high standard. 

However, they did find something else… "There she is! Oi! Donny! We found your duckie!"

"Ye did? Where?" 

"In the tender, sitting in the coal!" One of the men came forward, an absolutely black Dilly quacking indignantly in his arms. "Nevermind us not finding her, she’s lucky we didn't toss her in with the coal!"

"Lands sake Quackaroo!" Donald exclaimed, immediately beginning to fuss over Dilly, who didn't stop quacking until she was put down on Donald's bufferbeam. "Ye need a bath something fierce! What where ye doin' in me tender?"

"Making a friend, it seems." The other worker came up, a black cat tucked into the crook of his arm. "They were sitting right next to each other, not a care in the world."

"Who is that?" The first workman asked. "One of ours?" 

"Nah. I think it's the Skarloey's shop cat. Must've wandered over here."

"And made a friend?"

"Seems that way. I think they've only got the one, so it must've been nice finding another animal that's used to engines."

"I hadn't thought about it that way. Yeah it must be."

"Ah hadn’t thought o' tha' either…" Donald said, mostly to himself. "Mebbe I should bring her back sometime, if they get along so well."

As if in answer to that, the cat squirmed its way free of the workman, hopped onto Donald's bufferbeam, and settled down next to Dilly. 

"Well," Donald said, somewhat surprised. "Ah suppose that settles that!"

---

A couple of hours later, Mr. Hugh, the CME of the Skarloey railway, came and collected Kitten. 

"Thank you for watching out for her." He said as the workers toweled Kitten down. He'd arrived just as some of the works' cleaners had finished washing off the dusty remnants of the black cat's latest adventure, and it both did and did not surprise him to see a little, white, honest-to-goodness duck paddling around the wash basin at the same time.

The only thing more unusual than that cat is the company she keeps. he thought to himself as the cat walked right past the open cat carrier he'd brought, and instead started walking back across the standard gauge rails towards the Skarloey Railway property like it was an everyday occurrence. 

-

Dilly watched as man and cat disappeared out of sight behind a building. What a day this has been, she thought to herself. And what a strange duck I am, going and doing all that.

She didn’t feel any different, but Kitten had said it might take a while before she noticed. 

Ugh, I feel all wet. Actually, she did feel a bit different. The workers had used particularly strong soap, and it had all but completely removed the oil from her feathers, leaving them soaking wet. This is going to take all day to dry!

She flapped her wings, irritated as drops of water flew off as she did so. I wish I could just get dry!

She flapped again, and generally tried stretching out everything, trying to find what was and was not wet. Preening this is going to take an absolute age!

She was actually quite irritated by this, and didn’t notice that she started to flex a muscle that wasn’t really there. Oh come on! My tail too?

As her temper reached its peak, she noticed, rather all at once, that the feathers on her wings were starting to steam. “What?” She quacked in confusion, before a tiny ball of flame emerged from the tip of her left wing. 

“What?” As she watched, the fire - and it was strangely cold as well - slowly spread up her left wing, reached her breast, and then quickly spread to cover the rest of her. 

In the time it took to blink, she was fully engulfed, a bird not of flesh and feather, but fire and smoke. 

Whoosh

And then, with as little fanfare as it had started, it was over. The fire went out with a quiet rush of air, leaving no trace of it ever having happened. The only reason she even thought it had happened at all was that she was now very dry.

Dilly, in a state of shock, began looking around to see if this had actually just happened. Looking up, her engine was back to his nap, and hadn’t even stirred. The other workers weren’t around, and there was no sign that the cats living inside the works had stuck their noses out where they didn’t belong. As far as she could tell, she was alone. 

Maybe I should stop doing strange things, for the rest of the day at least. She thought, settling down onto the cool metal to try and rest. She winced, almost in anticipation of the pain that would shoot through her left leg when she did so, and was shocked to find that it didn’t hurt. 

In fact, nothing hurt - something that hadn’t happened for a very long time. 

“That doesn’t make any sense…” She said, more to herself than anyone else. “I thought it would - oh…” 

She trailed off, remembering old legends, passed down to her by other, older ducks, once they realized that she had not been hatched by one of their own. 

A great soaring bird, tied to both the great Daystar, but also its spawn, Fire. Ageless, endless, forever cycling through youth, life, and death. Heralded by a plume of flame, they ride the eternal air currents for time immemorial. 

She ‘flexed’ the muscle she didn’t have again, and a tiny flame burst forth on her left wingtip. It took some careful doing, but she was soon able to roll it along her wing’s edge and through her feathers. It felt most unusual, but in a good way. 

Stretching her wings (with no pain!) she took to the air, and fluttered around the works. She found the large reflective glass on the far wall that the red engines often gazed into for many hours, and took in her reflection. 

As it turned out, she didn’t just feel better, she looked better. Gone were the grey feathers and mottled feet - she now looked like the much younger duck she felt like.

Her wings twitched, eager to fly more, and she indulged in some immature impulses as she soared out of the building through an open door. The sun was yet to completely go down behind the horizon, and as she flew out, she was hit by the sun’s rays. 

It felt like she just took a bolt of energy to her very soul, and with a raucous quacking laugh, she bolted off into the sky, eager to experience the first few minutes of her new eternity.

------

Eventually, the sun went down fully, and she returned to her engine. Cuddling up against his boiler like she’d done as a chick, she closed her eyes and soon fell happily asleep. 

I don’t know why that cat kept all this to herself! She thought as she nodded off. I’d have done this years ago!

------

Hmmm, Kitten thought to herself as she looked at her tail. I seem to be on fire. 

Her tail flicked back and forth, and the fire went out. She flicked it again, and the fire started back up. A few more swishes and flicks and she was able to transfer the fire down her tail and onto her feet, set her entire tail alight, and have the fire move to specific parts of her body. 

Correction, I seem to be able to set myself on fire. This is new. 

She would have pondered the question a bit more, but at that moment there was a horrified sounding squeak behind her. 

Turning around, she found the old superstitious one, that the twolegs had pulled out of the ground many years ago, staring at her with wide eyes. She didn’t understand his fear, but it was irrelevant to her, so she didn’t care. With a deliberate tail motion, she dismissed him and walked into a different room so that she wasn’t disturbed. 

Duke watched that damned magical beast walk away, swearing to himself that he should have just stayed in his nice shed on the old railway!

[power-chords]

I am going to re-watch episodes 1-4 of this season, probably, to see what else I can pick up on. But once again, I am paying close attention to costuming decisions. There is information being conveyed here.

Note who is dressed in black and white, and when. These are being used as indicators of Hale’s dominion, influence, or attempts at control (Hale is always dressed in black or white). Costuming that is in color, as with Clementine, or with Christina, indicates something external to her, or in conflict with her. When we see Christina wearing color, we might suspect that a part of Dolores – wherever she may be – is struggling to surface. Notice how Maya is dressed when accompanying her, when trying to steer her decisions one way or the other.

I do not think Maya is “good people.” I think Maya is a minder, a mother – there are both phonetic and semantic connotations to the name – as the name Christina has etymologic parallels to child. There is also Peter Myers (as in Peter Abernathy, as in pater; Myers, as in a masculine counterpart to Maya, as in mayor). We know Westworld is big on parent/child themes and the question of “programming” invoked therein, both sacrificial love and intrinsic tension, succession and separation. What it means not just to deviate, but to individuate, even speciate.

What is the significance of Christina's date in 4x01, and of Teddy, both dressed in gray? I’m still trying to parse that out. If black and white represent Hale’s conflation of harmony and binarism, Black and White, Humans and Hosts, then perhaps gray is indicative of a test of some kind, tempting Christina with the illusion of an alternate choice, breaking free of the either/or. Perhaps Teddy is a covert operative (and if so, on whose behalf?), a wrench in the gears, trying to sneak in under the cover of Christina’s own simulation enclosure-slash-fidelity test.

In last Sunday’s episode, Maeve makes a comment to Hale to the effect of, “And here I thought Wyatt was Dolores’s bad side.” That’s a hugely loaded line, intended to remind the audience that Hale 2.0 is (or, perhaps, was) the synthesis of two discrete personalities: Dolores Abernathy and Charlotte Hale. She even tells Dolores in S3: “Why give us these feelings” if all they’ll be is a liability?

All of which is why I have a hunch that Christina is a part of Hale 2.0 – the Dolores part – that has been jettisoned, partitioned off and imprisoned, so as not to interfere with Hale’s execution of her master plan.

So then why keep Christina around, stuck in a loop? Who knows. Maybe Hale’s just vindictive. Maybe Dolores, being the park’s OG host, contains valuable data that Hale doesn’t want to risk disposing of – an insurance policy of sorts, or a backup template. Wouldn’t it be funny if she winds up being the proverbial fly in the ointment, coming back – resurrecting – to bite Hale in the ass?

More costuming details: you see a lot of cut-out panels in Christina’s clothing, implying a missing or segmented piece. Her earrings are broken in two. There are also abundant straps, belts, or textile details that suggest leashing, binding. You see some of it echoed in Host MIB’s outfits, as well.

[bongo-spindash]

"Sonic? Like, The Hedgehog?" Chapter 3

The thing about being a global hero whose entire schtick is running faster than the eye can see is that, well, people don’t actually see an awful lot of him. They know his name, they know what he’s done, and they recognise the iconic blue blur he leaves in his wake—but, just walking down the street, you don’t expect every single blue Mobian you see to be the one that routinely fights off giant mechs and ancient deities.  Really, how were they supposed to know who the guy actually was? (Or: Five times Sonic invoked the Tony Hawk phenomenon, and one time someone recognised him.)

First Chapter, Second Chapter, Ao3 Version Despite the title of this chapter, there's not any real descriptions of injuries beyond the passing mention of one happening, so don't worry if that's something you're not big on!! Either way, hope you enjoy!! :D

Chapter 3: First Aid

(Fic under the cut!!)

-

Despite the tournament very obviously being another one of Doctor Eggman’s weird schemes, Peter is still pretty excited for the EX World Grand Prix. He can never resist a chance to see some Extreme Gear in action, and he heard the group calling themselves the Babylon Rogues are participating—sure, they’re thieves, but they’re also some of the best Extreme Gear users around—sue him for being just a tad hyped up about it. 

Also, the money for acting as an onsite paramedic for the whole thing is really good. Peter can either stay home and find out about an Eggman attack on the news, or he can be at the Eggman attack where everyone’s flying around on Extreme Gear, help out, and get paid. Really, it’s not even a choice. 

As always, he’s got to keep a level head on his shoulders while he’s working, just in case anything happens, though he can’t help the slight swell of excitement as he meets with the seven competitors, all holding their boards. He was assigned the task of meeting with each beforehand to discuss anything the paramedic team might need to know about them during an emergency—allergies, preexisting conditions, and the like. It’s not the most pleasant topic, but still, even if he can’t linger, he’s elated to meet all of them up close. 

The first three, Peter recognises on sight. 

It’s hard not to know who Tails is, based on his characteristic namesakes alone. The kid is bright, enthusiastic—he answers all of the necessary questions politely and succinctly, though when the puffin expresses even a hint of interest, he begins to talk about all the research he’s been doing on Extreme Gear schematics at roughly a thousand miles per hour. If the puffin didn’t have only the allotted time to see them, he’d have loved nothing more than to keep listening to the fox talk. The kid’s a genius; he can see why he’s become so well known for giving Eggman a run for his money. 

Knuckles’ defining characteristic is pretty much his… everything, considering he’s the last echidna alive, and he answers Peter’s questions easily enough—albeit, it feels a little awkward having to ask if there’s anything significant about echidna biology that the paramedic team might need to know. A little bit of a grumpy teenager, although, to be honest, he really can’t blame the guy. He didn’t expect the echidna to be into Extreme Gear; perhaps he only came because of the connection to Eggman, and the others asked for him to be here. Maybe living on a floating island helps with the vertigo?

The last of the heroes is Amy Rose, coming into the room decked out in full athletic gear. She’s as chatty as anything; every answer to his questions is probably about three sentences longer than it needs to be, but… well, it’s much better to over-explain than under. She tells him she’s ecstatic to participate in the tournament—although, quietly, she warns him that Eggman’s probably going to pull something during the event, and asks that he keeps himself safe. The compassion of the girl is heart-warming, but he tells her she doesn’t have to worry about him. She just needs to show off her Extreme Gear skills, and he’ll concern himself with any injuries that may occur, should Eggman attempt an attack. 

The Babylon Rogues are just as blasé about his questions as he was expecting them to be, certain that their mastery of the gear will leave no room for injury. Though… Wave does ask how prepared they are to treat someone who’s fallen far off their board. If he’s being honest, Peter doesn’t think she’s asking for herself. He’s excited to see them race, of course, but he dreads to think of anything happening to those little heroes, when they should just be able to enjoy a good competition for once—something where the world isn’t ending. All he can do is raise the red flag to his colleagues and keep doing his job.

The last competitor, he’s not sure is anyone as notorious as the last six. A blue hedgehog with green goggles on his head, presumably to shield his eyes from the drag while he’s riding. His shoes are pretty dang fancy—specialised for Extreme Gear, he’s sure—but beyond that, nothing really sticks out. His demeanour’s friendly, easy-going, and his tone is joking when he answers the questions, but Peter’s fairly certain he’s being sincere when he says they won’t need to worry too much about him, anyway. 

“You’ve got real courage going up against all these big names,” The puffin laughs, not unkindly. “But good luck, kid. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

The hedgehog grins, giving him a bright thumbs up—it’s a familiar sort of gesture, he thinks, but he can’t quite put his feathers on it. “Ah, don’t worry. I always pull through in the end.” He reassures, and once he’s sure all the questions have been covered, he leaves the guy to his last-minute preparations. 

The Grand Prix is, in all honesty, just as exhilarating to watch as the puffin hoped it would be. The larger medical team is handling any issues that the audiences might have, so the competitors’ paramedic team are free to watch the races—they kind of have to—and Peter has absolutely no complaints on that front. It’s thrilling to look at them all dart about in the air, pulling off increasingly absurd stunts to get ahead of each other. He can’t wait to get home and watch it all again on tape.

He’s not surprised that one of the Babylon Rogues wins each of the first couple of races, but he’s elated for the heroes when they get their bearings and start pulling ahead. More shocking than that, though, is how quickly the hedgehog is outmanoeuvring them—he’d wanted the kid to do well, but he hadn’t been expecting him to come first in the penultimate race. Peter’s pretty certain he’s going to win the whole thing. There’s only one point between him and who he assumes is the leader of the Babylon Rogues now, and the last race awards the most points.

Finally, everyone’s convened in the Sand Ruins, the main paramedic’s station situated underneath an awning to shield from the sun. There’s other tents posited in different parts of the course, to ensure there’s always staff close by, but Peter himself is in the colosseum, watching the race unfold from the huge screens at the front alongside everyone else.

It’s close. When he’d watched the first race, he’d expected the whole competition to be a clean sweep for the Babylon Rogues, but not only do the others gain on them, some of them even outpace them; Wave falls away from the race with a careening loop as Tails pulls ahead, the team by the section radioing in that she’s okay. Call it beginner’s luck, but the puffin is pretty dang impressed.

In the end, it’s the leader of the Babylon Rogues and the hedgehog fighting it out for first place. In terms of technical skill with the boards, it’s clear that the hawk is better, but the other is using the terrain in a way Peter’s never seen anyone pull off without breaking something. Even on the projectors, he can see the bright grin on the teenager’s face, adrenaline pushing him forward with wild joy; as they split into the stadium, Peter is genuinely convinced that the hedgehog’s going to win.

Nothing was going wrong until it was. One second, the hedgehog’s on a straight-shot to first place—the next, something on his board is blowing out under his feet, and he’s sent tumbling towards the ground from a height that makes the puffin break out in a cold sweat. 

Immediately, he and two other paramedics are rushing forward, forcing themselves to ignore the rumbling of the crowd and the competitors flying overhead. He’s the first to make it to the teenager, just as the kid’s stiltedly attempting to sit up. He puts a hand to the hedgehog’s shoulder, and avoids the side he’d seen him land on for now.

“You alright, kid?” He says, purposefully calm even as a strange anger wells in his chest. The kid was winning; that was all he’d been trying to do, and Peter’s pretty sure he knows why that didn’t happen. 

To his credit, if anything’s bothering him, the hedgehog doesn’t show it on his face. “All good!” He smiles, just slightly hoarse from the dust that got kicked up when he fell. One of the paramedics has a bottle of water, and the kid takes it gratefully, opening it up for a long sip, gaze still trained on the hawk waving to the crowd behind the finish line, ascending the stairs towards the Chaos Emeralds.

“Does anything hurt? You don’t feel dizzy or nauseous?” He questions once the hedgehog’s put the bottle down. 

The kid’s response is just slightly absent, still focused on whatever the rogue’s doing at the pedestal. “Nothing but scrapes.” He says, even as the puffin spots a small burn from the blast on the arm opposite and starts to get something out of the first aid kit. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Honestly, what is it with kids these days and being so dang valiant? If Peter had just fallen from that height, he’d have lay on that floor groaning for a good ten minutes. The teenager’s already hankering to stand. 

The puffin wasn’t paying any attention to what the rogue was doing on the pedestal, but the hedgehog clearly was, because he startles and yells out just as a bright beam of light flashes out from the direction of the Chaos Emeralds. Everyone turns to find the hawk holding a strange blue cube, and the pulsing glow is the only warning they get before the ground begins to rumble. Peter holds the kid’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t fall—just in case the sudden shaking makes him dizzy. 

Peter watches, utterly flabbergasted, as an entire island bursts out of the ground like a volcanic eruption, ascending into the air in ancient-looking pieces. There’s a brief pause where no one seems to know what to do, before everything rockets into fast forward. Eggman appears over the crowd to snatch whatever that cube thing is out of the hawk’s hands—yelling something about Babylonian treasure—and Amy Rose sprints forward out of nowhere, taking a running leap and grabbing onto the Eggmobile before it can take off. 

He goes to look at the teenager next to him, to gauge if the chaos has affected him any—but the kid’s already shrugging his hand off, turning to look behind him. 

“Tails! Knuckles!” He calls, and sure enough, the two are sprinting towards them with their Extreme Gear in hand. “Come on, we gotta go get Eggman!”

The hedgehog rushes off in a streak of cobalt blue like he hadn’t just been lying prone on the floor mere minutes before. Peter and the other paramedics can do nothing but stare on as the three leap in the air and take off in a near synchronised motion, feeling all at once incredibly oblivious as the dots finally connect. 

Dang, he’s an idiot. “Did anyone else know that was Sonic The Hedgehog?” He asks, just slightly hysterical. “Or am I just completely stupid? Because I feel completely stupid.”

“He entered the competition with his team. I literally saw his name on the medical forms.” His colleague wheezes, and the sheer stress in their voice makes him feel just a little better. “I just thought ‘oh, hey, what a neat coincidence! Guess it must be a popular name these days!’. Good Gaia.”

Peter sincerely hopes they’re all getting paid extra for this, because—quite frankly—none of what just happened was mentioned in the contract. He should really give his therapist a call. 

[thenightling]

Dead Names are NOT True Names

I figured some magick users might need to read this.  

A trans person’s dead name is not their true name.

The one thing I do not like about The Dreaming: Waking hours is the fact that it’s implied that Heather After’s Dead name is her true name.  Instead of the story affirming that Heather IS her true name now, G. Willow Wilson instead has her dismiss true names all together as having no real power.

I feel it would have been more poignant and significant if the story had acknowledged that Heather After IS her true name.

In magick your true name is the name that you most heavily associate with yourself.   It is NOT necessarily your birth name.  

Another example of this in The Sandman by Neil Gaiman is Morpheus, himself.   in The Sandman comics Rose Walker calls out to him by the name Morpheus and in the Netflix series it is Calliope who calls out to him by the name Morpheus.  Though he did not have the name Morpheus for all of the ten billion years he has existed (Ancient Rome was only two thousand years ago) he clearly accepts Morpheus as his true name.   It is the true name for this aspect of Dream.  It is why Daniel will not use the name Morpheus.

In the original 1985 film “Fright Night” the character of Peter Vincent is just a has-been actor who hosts a weekly horror TV series, where he plays his old movies. His stage name is also his character name. When he discovers vampires are real and he is frightened he declares how Peter Vincent isn’t even his real name. We, the viewer, never actually learn Peter’s “real name” (it is later given in the spin-off comics). But it really doesn’t matter. By the end of the film he has gained courage and embraced his persona. He declares “I AM Peter Vincent, The Great Vampire killer!” with actual conviction and meaning. By the time you get to the sequel and even the spin-off comics, whoever he was before no longer matters. Now he truly is the hero he had always pretended to be. Peter Vincent has become his true name.  A true name is the name you most associate with your sense of self-identity.

Occultists in the late nineteenth and Early twentieth century did not consider their birth name to be their true name.  Their true name was a secret name chosen later and protected so that no other magick user could use it against them.  True names have power.   You can ensnare a magical being or curse them if you know their true name.  

Even in certain Christian denominations your Birthname isn’t really considered your true name.  It’s believed you get an entirely different name when you enter Heaven.  In Goethe’s Faust Part 2 the final scene of Faust and Gretchen in Heaven have them with new true names.      

It is traditional in magical practices, all over the world, that names, especially true names, have power. In the fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin (Rumpelstilzchen in the original German) it was by learning the imp’s true name that The Queen was able to best him and banish him rather than allow him to claim her baby. In pop culture we see it in films like Beetlejuice (and its animated series spin-off) where if you call his name three times you can invoke or banish the mischievous ghost. The same goes for The Candyman or the old party game, Bloody Mary, that if you call out their names a certain repeated number of times, it will invoke them.In the Japanese anime “Tactics” it is the naming of the tengu that binds him to serve a human master. It is the loss of his name that enslaves the river God / dragon, Haku in the anime classic “Spirited Away.” Names have power, especially true names. This is why you should never give a faery your full true name. They can use it to ensnare you. This is especially true if you practice magick. It is why sorcerers don’t usually give their true name but instead give a name they prefer to answer to. This even comes up in Neil Gaiman’s Books of Magic as one of the things taught to young Timothy Hunter. It is also why Harry Dresden is careful never to give his full true name (Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden) when dealing with fae or other supernatural entities in The Dresden Files novels by Jim Butcher.

But my point is this.   If you are a trans person who uses magick, your dead name is NOT your true name. That is not who you are.  Even credit card companies know this.  There are credit cards now that offer “True names” so that if you are transitioning you can change the name on your credit card to your “True Name.” Remember, it’s your True Name that has power.  That’s the one and only thing I do not like about The Dreaming: Waking Hours mini-series by G. Willow Wilson, is the implication that Heather After’s True name is her dead name but that true names have no power.  This sends the wrong message.  I strongly, strongly feel it would have been better if the story had acknowledged that Heather After IS her true name.      

There is nothing in realm occultism that stipulates that your true name is the name given at birth.  No.  It’s just the name you most heavily associate with yourself, whatever that might be.    It’s whatever you call yourself in your own head.

Bruce Wayne’s True Name is Batman, by the way.   In an episode of Batman Beyond someone tried to convince him that they were his own mind and he knew it wasn’t because he doesn’t call himself Bruce in his own head. He tells Terry this at the end of the episode and Terry says “You know you’re not Batman anymore, right?” and he responds with “Tell that to my subconscious.”  Superman is a bit of the opposite. This is confirmed by how both he and Batman dream in The Sandman: The Wake.  In their dreams Bruce is dressed as Batman and Clark is dressed as Clark Kent, not Superman. The Kill Bill Volume 2 scene has it backward.

Remember, do not give away your true name to someone you don’t trust and it it is not necessarily the name on your birth certificate.   

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

11th May >> Mass Readings (USA)

Thursday, Fifth Week of Eastertide 

(Liturgical Colour: White: A(1))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 15:7-21 It is my judgment, therefore, that we ought to stop troubling the Gentiles who turn to God.

After much debate had taken place, Peter got up and said to the Apostles and the presbyters, “My brothers, you are well aware that from early days God made his choice among you that through my mouth the Gentiles would hear the word of the Gospel and believe. And God, who knows the heart, bore witness by granting them the Holy Spirit just as he did us. He made no distinction between us and them, for by faith he purified their hearts. Why, then, are you now putting God to the test by placing on the shoulders of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we are saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, in the same way as they.” The whole assembly fell silent, and they listened while Paul and Barnabas described the signs and wonders God had worked among the Gentiles through them. After they had fallen silent, James responded, “My brothers, listen to me. Symeon has described how God first concerned himself with acquiring from among the Gentiles a people for his name. The words of the prophets agree with this, as is written:

After this I shall return and rebuild the fallen hut of David; from its ruins I shall rebuild it and raise it up again, so that the rest of humanity may seek out the Lord, even all the Gentiles on whom my name is invoked. Thus says the Lord who accomplishes these things, known from of old.

It is my judgment, therefore, that we ought to stop troubling the Gentiles who turn to God, but tell them by letter to avoid pollution from idols, unlawful marriage, the meat of strangled animals, and blood. For Moses, for generations now, has had those who proclaim him in every town, as he has been read in the synagogues every sabbath.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 96:1-2a, 2b-3, 10

R/ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or R/ Alleluia.

Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all you lands. Sing to the LORD; bless his name.

R/ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or R/ Alleluia.

Announce his salvation, day after day. Tell his glory among the nations; among all peoples, his wondrous deeds.

R/ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or R/ Alleluia.

Say among the nations: The LORD is king. He has made the world firm, not to be moved; he governs the peoples with equity.

R/ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation John 10:27

Alleluia, alleluia. My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them, and they follow me. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel John 15:9-11 Remain in my love, that your joy might be complete.

Jesus said to his disciples: “As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love.

“I have told you this so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[professional-bulshitter]

hullo hullo,,, so i just started penumbra podcast and I'm v v normal about it,,, so much so that i ended up writing 800+ words about my feelings after the first 2 fucking episodes (murderous mask case)(honestly dunno how and where things end up going but this is the vibe/thoughts i got from them till now)

some snippets:

it's so cool to see them (Juno and Peter) and their boundaries with trust in this story arc cause they both trust each other to some extent even though they don't trust easy usually,,, like Juno hides behind his prickly hedgehog self and doesn't let anyone close but Peter/rex is so amiable and friendly but only because he's usually playing a character like,,, he will let everyone think they know him to keep others at arms length,, if that makes sense like most people don't even know his real name....!! and then starting with the first time they met it's so fucking obvious how much they trust each other or at least want to. but like peter/rex's trust comes from the fact that he knows about Juno somewhat but bitch is still a thief so you can only give someone a certain level of trust without fucking yourself over yet he still believes in Juno enough to know that he'll get them safely out of the restraints and trust him enough to solve the mystery and keep them safe and do the supposed right thing, along with the fact that he calls himself juno's better half,,, and don't even get me started on the fact that he tells Juno his real name even though he knows he shouldn't esp considering they're technically on the opposite sides yk,, but on the other hand,,, Juno wants to trust rex so bad,like , he knows that's not good cause rex is suspicious as fuck and things are not adding up and that he hasn't let anyone in for so so long but he wants to trust peter/rex and wants him to stay and trust and just be around him and with him so bad even though he knows he shouldn't and wouldn't and just couldn't but the thought is there,,, like if only we were on the same side of the law we could've been something great kinda longing yk,,,

also it's so so funny how Juno liked Cassandra, and they were sorta friends(?) and then he later kissed Peter both of whom ended up in handcuffs by the end of the arc both because of him and just 👀💀,,, also sad.

and the fact that peter wrote the note behind his back ( i can't even write one when it's in front of me) and Juno just going,,, i believe he did it cause he can do anything like ?? you just met?? Sir?? keep it in your pants?? and the silk lips?? and the fact that the smell lingered and the feeling of the lips lingered could be indicative of him trying and failing to get him out of his mind

and and are you even proper fantasy queer if you don't make plans to run away from the problems of the world together and explore galaxies and world and stars together while living a lavish lifestyle and invoking subtext of us against the world ?? and the other going that they can't leave this life behind but offering to let the other stay with them even though both know neither is gonna happen or could happen in a realistic world but just holding out hope of if only we could and were on the same side of the conflict ?? like excuse me??

i have nothing else to say except this is gonna take over my life, i can feel it and i don't even think i mind that much

[parisian-nicole]

The Rebirth: Guardians of The Galaxy Fic

Summary:

This is my first Guardians of the Galaxy story based on the movies, not the comics. This is set sometime after Thor has left them, and is focused on Nebula, who is my favorite character from these movies. Heads up there will be a Nebula/Quill romance happening. Do they have a shipper name? Until I know I shall call them 'Quibula'. Why? Why not? In the comics, Quill and Gamora never had a romance. So, the writers of the movie took liberties and so shall I. To know any more you must read it. I hope you enjoy my little story and leave a review.

*****

"Just let me do the talking," Peter Quill advised as he gripped the handle of his quad blaster guns, which were holstered on both of his sides. His companion who stood to his left turned their head slightly and locked black eyes on Quill in regard.

"Why?" Nebula questioned in her low, deep voice that was as synonymous with her character as her bald head and blue/purple skin. They stood and waited at the aft of the ship as the hull doors dropped to allow them to exit.

"Because this is a pretty tough crowd. Full of ruffians and you're a lady. I don't want you getting hurt. So, at the first sign of trouble I want you to run, get back to the ship with or without me, all right?" Quill said in all seriousness as he glanced at Nebula, before focusing out through the opened door. Nebula didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of his words or be touched by the concern that invoked them. So, she just said nothing in reply. She was her father's daughter. A trained galactic assassin who held a well-known and well-feared reputation. Others' concern for her was something she had learned to get used to when she first became an Avenger. It had started with and seemed most prevalent with Tony Stark, and then spread with the other male Avengers, save Rocket, who seemed just as baffled as she was by it. On several occasions, Rocket had pointed out the fact that Nebula was physically as strong as the Hulk, as smart as he and Tony, and her combat skills were off the charts because she was trained by Thanos to be an assassin. His words only invoked some fear in the beginning, but never stopped the male Avengers from taking over whenever they saw her handling something they deemed too heavy, or taking lead on most missions they accompanied her on. At first, it annoyed her because she hadn't understood their 'motives' for it. It had been Tony who had noticed her discomfort and anger and he had been the one to have a talk with her and had made her understand better.

*****

Flashback

***** "Hey Nebby, why the long face?" Tony spoke as he took a seat on the bench beside Nebula where she sat sulking and glaring as she watched Bruce/Smart Hulk and Steve work together holding and welding metal bulkheads. Which were the foundation of the time traveling device they were making to go back and get the infinity stones. She turned her glowering eyes onto Tony now at hearing the nickname he had taken to calling her, which didn't annoy her as much as she acted like it did. If anyone else had called her that name she would have insisted that they fight to the death but not Tony, her friend, and self-designated big brother. He smiled at her mean face because he knew it was just an act with him and held out the bag of chips he had been munching on. She begrudgingly reached over and snatched a chip from the bag and popped it in her mouth. "They know your worth and your value to the team," Tony began speaking again as they both focused back on the scene before them. "But cut'em some slack because we're only human," She hmphed at that and he smirked having heard and seen her disdain for humans. "In our society males are viewed as the hunters and providers."

"That's stupid," She offered and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, well that's another trait men are well known for. My point is they … we, treat you how we do because we care not because we think you're incompetent or incapable. I mean, I know from personal experience that you're one tough, smart lady. But the operative word there is 'lady' and guys never want to see a lady get hurt, especially not our lady. And you're one of our ladies now, a lady Avenger," At hearing him refer to her for the first time as an Avenger she looked over at him in slight awe, which he recognized. "That's right you're an Avenger now, kiddo. Sorry, but when you saved my life all those days out there in space that was your initiation, and we have a no take backsies policy, so, you're stuck with us," He offered her another chip which she graciously took this time but didn't readily eat as she mulled over his words. She had never truly had anyone show her regard or care before, no matter what she did or how she tried to please. "Look at it this way, you have Earth's mightiest heroes for big brothers, and we'll always look out for you. Now, that doesn't mean you have to let us push you around either. I bet you could lift one of those beams with just one hand and could help them get that built faster," Nebula scowled a little because he was right, she could and so she popped the chip she held in her mouth and stalked to the pile of beams they had stacked nearby. She waited until she saw that Bruce was just about finished welding the piece Steve held in place for him, then with ease she lifted a beam with one hand to prove the point, which made Tony smirk. She moved it to the next spot as the two men watched her in impressed surprise.

"Work smarter, not harder," Nebula spoke out to them with words she had heard Tony say before.

"Exactly!" Rocket replied from his place under the platform where he was doing some wiring. "I told you, idiots, to let her help and it would go a lot faster. But oooh no you were too worried she might mess her hair or break a nail," He said the last bit in a mimicked girly tone, and then he turned back to his task.

"Thanks," Steve replied with a grateful nod as he moved to the pile for another beam.

"Yeah, thanks Nebs," Bruce added on with a smile as he began to weld the part she held. She simply nodded and then she realized that this new nickname for her didn't bother her either.

*****

Present Day

*****

Peter and Nebula sat in the seedy bar on the planet of Kenos as they waited for a trader who was supposed to be bringing them energy crystals, they needed to fully repair the damage their ship sustained on their last mission. Quill instantly noticed the way everyone reacted to their arrival. They hurried out of the way as they passed and averted their eyes.

"Is it my imagination or is everybody acting like…"

"Like you have bad breath and smell funny?" Nebula interjected. "No, that is not your imagination," She added with her usual serious, stoic face. Quill scowled at her with an offended and somewhat horrified look on his face. When he then cupped his hand over his mouth and blew to test his breath, and raised both his arms a little to sniff his pits. Nebula couldn't stop the slight curve at the corners of her mouth as she watched in amusement. Quill had noticed her small smile and he smirked and pointed at her accusingly.

"Wow, look at you, you've gotten a sense of humor in the five years I've been away," He said with a chuckle. Nebula simply turned her gaze away so she wouldn't actually crack a smile. Before he could tease her further Quill noticed that the one, they had been waiting on had arrived and was headed to them. "Okay, game time. Our guy just walked in. Remember let me do the talking, but help translate anything I might not understand," Quill had wanted to bring Drax with him, but Rocket convinced him that Nebula would be better for the mission because she spoke so many dialects and languages. So, Quill had relented. Nebula didn't bother turning to see who their guest was, but she did nod to acknowledge the request. "Hello, Traque, you're late."

"Sorry, my friend," The tall lizard-like man hissed out in reply as two others similar in looks but larger stood just behind him. "We ran into a bit of trouble getting the crystals here, that made us incur some unforeseen costs," Quill eyed the man suspiciously not liking where this conversation was heading but still played along.

"Do you have the merchandise?" Quill asked. "We brought the credits for it," He lifted the bag that he had seated next to him and placed it on the table top. Traque's eyes gleamed as he looked down at it.

"Yes, I have the crystals you need, but as I have mentioned getting them here was difficult and so we will need more credits than we originally asked for," At hearing this Nebula turned her head slightly. Traque and his crew hadn't even taken notice of her yet as the booth she sat against hid her for the most part.

"What? How much more?" Quill barked out in frustration that he was being hustled and he knew there was nothing he could do except pay. They desperately needed these crystals to fully restore the power supply to their ship, and it had taken them weeks to find someone who could get the crystals for them.

"Double," Traque replied and Quill's eyes bugged out. They had done 6 months' worth of missions to earn and save the credits for this buy, and besides the credits, they had to buy the necessities they needed to survive they had nothing else to give.

"How about," Nebula's low voice filled the space as she slid from the booth and stood to face the 3 men. Quill quickly stood up and moved right beside her with his hands on his blasters. Quill then noticed the fright their guests now showed on their faces as they looked at Nebula. "You 'give' us the crystals as payment, to keep me from killing you," She tacked on.

"Ne…Nebula," Traque stammered out as he gawked at the woman before him in great fear. Once upon a time, he had witnessed her take on a regiment of his people's army, 1000 in number, and she had killed them single-handedly all with ease and glee. "I was not aware that you were the buyer," He and his entourage bowed. "Yes, please accept the crystals as a 'gift', and if you need any more, please do not hesitate to let me know," He then snapped his fingers and one of his guards handed him the bag full of crystals with very shaky hands. Traque held out the bag to Nebula, she snatched it from him and then watched the creatures bow before her another minute before she spoke again.

"You may leave now," She said and all three men tripped over each other in their haste out the door. Quill stared after them for a few seconds before he focused back on to Nebula, who grabbed the bag of credits from the table and held it out to him.

"What the hell was that all about?" He questioned as he grabbed the bag of credits and walked beside her as they made their way to the exit. And just as it had been when they entered the patrons in the bar quickly moved out of their way and turned their gaze. She had waited until they had left the bar and were alone headed back to the ship before she spoke.

"I am the daughter of Thanos," She said plainly and Quill started to understand why they had been treated like lepers in the bar, and also why Rocket had wanted him to take Nebula instead of Drax. "They all fear me," This had been enough explanation but just as they had reached the open hanger of their ship she stopped, bowed her head, and continued. "I have helped my father annihilate entire civilizations for no other reason than to create fear. We'd leave just enough behind to remember and to tell others. That is the legacy my father has left me and my sister, to be feared. I don't find any honor or pleasure in it as I once had. Now, it makes me feel ashamed," Quill's heart genuinely went out to her and it really surprised him that she of all people was opening up like this. She really had changed a lot in the five years he had been snapped away. He had also noticed that Rocket had changed to, but he had just grown harder and somewhat colder. But with Nebula, it was like she had grown a heart.

"Hey," Quill placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned her head towards him but did not meet his gaze. "You're not Thanos's daughter anymore. At least not in the sense that you go around committing genocide just to make everyone afraid of you. You've changed, Nebula. Heck, you help save the entire universe, undoing what Thanos did, bringing everyone he snapped out of existence back, remember? I'd say all that good you did easily cancels out all the bad. So, now you get to start over fresh with clean hands," She stared down at her hands and then looked up at him and smiled slightly at his words. "Who cares what they all think anyways?" He stated as he nudged his head back towards where they had just come from. "Your friends and your family, we all know just how good you really are in here," He then placed his hand over her heart. "And tonight, we will party in your honor, because you have gotten us the crystals we needed and we got to keep six months' worth of credits. Oh yeah, we are gonna boogie-oogie-oogie, til we just can't boogie no more," Quill said as he danced his way back onto the ship and left a bewildered Nebula to follow behind him.

*****

A Couple Of Hours Later

*****

The large cargo area they had converted to a lounge room with comfortable furniture strapped or welded down was where they held the party. The music from Quill's tapes blare through the speakers while Mantis danced about erratically and off rhythm but with great enthusiasm and joy. Kraglin had already turned in early. Quill danced on the opposite side of the room, singing along to the song while he made more drinks for everyone. Drax and Rocket both sat drunk side-by-side on the floor sharing war stories, while Groot sat in a corner playing one of his video games hoping no one noticed him trying to steal alcohol, but she had noticed. And when he crept a branch to the glasses near where she stood, she took out her blade and stabbed him. She knew it would hurt but not really damage him. It had gotten the reaction she had intended. He looked at her with wide shocked eyes at first, and then he bowed his head shamefully, mumbled his 'I am Groot/I'm sorry', and hadn't tried again. Now Nebula stood watching this riff-raff crew and pondered when exactly she had started seeing them as her friends and then her family. Before she could get lost in her thoughts Quill grabbed her hand and pulled her out from the corner, she had been trying to hide in.

"No more hiding, this is your party, so enjoy yourself, and dance," He said and emphasized his words by shaking his booty and thrusting his hips quite off beat to the song. She watched him precariously.

"That is not dancing," She stated and Quill turned to her gleefully.

"What!? I have great dance moves," He continued to gyrate and he then kicked his leg in a Michael Jackson move. "I just think 'you' don't know how to dance," He added and Rocket who had been watching them threw his head back and cackled, which made Quill's smile broaden feeling he had someone else who agreed. At that moment a new song started to play, and to nearly everyone's surprise Nebula the 'Ice Queen' began to sway and swerve her hips sensuously to the song.

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night

Lookin' for the fight of her life

In the real-time world no one sees her at all

They all say she's crazy

Locking rhythms to the beat of her heart

Changing movement into light

She has danced into the danger zone

When the dancer becomes the dance

She lifted her arms above her head and twirled around as she continued to sway and shake her hips. And then kicked her legs in tune with the music.

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire

On a wire between will and what will be

Her face still held its typical seriousness as she started to stomp her feet along with the chorus.

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor

And she's dancing like she's never danced before

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor

And she's dancing like she's never danced before

Nebula stopped dancing abruptly as she stared off at the wall.

"I have an important call I need to take," She announced and then moved to a far corner for more privacy. Mantis clapped ecstatically at her performance, and then went back to dancing about the room, making sure to step over Drax who was now passed out on the floor.

"Wow," Quill tossed out still pleasantly surprised and stunned by Nebula's new moves.

"You should never ever challenge a Luphomoid, that species never backs down and they will learn things just so they can beat you at it," Rocket offered as he chuckled at the look on Quill's face.

"And where did she learn to dance like, 'that'?" Quill asked as he now stared at Nebula's back, but when his eyes drifted down to her hips and ass, he quickly shifted his eyes away, but not before Rocket saw. Rocket now locked squinting eyes up at his friend.

"Girl's night," Rocket answered and when Quill locked confused eyes on him Rocket further explained. "It's when the female Avengers; Natasha, Okoye, Nebula, and Carol would meet up once a month and have a 'girl's night, which was actually a weekend. They'd drink, tell stories, talk about boys, and dance. When it came to the boy talk and dancing Nebula was out of her element. So, the rest of them made it their mission to educate her. She's a fast learner picking up on every move after just a couple of tries. All except the slow dancing. She could never get that," Before Quill could ask Rocket to elaborate Nebula had ended her call and was walking back over to them.

"Everything all right?" Quill asked her.

"Yes," She quickly responded and then paused and dropped her head a little before continuing. "That was the lead I have been following when we were searching for the crystals. Someone who wanted help if we found some first and had extra that they could buy, and they would do the same for us."

"That's great," Quill exclaimed. "We only ended up needing just a couple of the crystals and we have a whole bag of it left."

"Yeah, I have already stored away enough in case we ever need it, but there's still plenty left that we can sell."

"They will rendezvous with us here in two days. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to turn in," Nebula said and then turned to leave, but Quill's hand quickly shot out and grasped her wrist.

"But the party isn't over yet," He said and when she looked down at his hand still on her wrist and then up into his face with cold eyes, he quickly released her and cleared his throat a little. It was in these types of moments that she would remind him that she was still quite deadly when she wanted to be, and she did not like manhandling. "C'mon, just one more dance," At that moment a slow song started. "May I have this dance?" He held out his hand which Nebula simply stared at.

"Uh, Quill," Rocket spoke out but Quill hadn't seemed to have heard him and he proceeded to step to Nebula where he grasped her hand again, snaked his other arm around her waist, and pressed her against his chest. It hadn't been her stiffened stance that alerted him to her discomfort, but the look in her black eyes. Her eyes shone with anger, danger, helplessness, fear, and shame. Quill instantly released her, took a step back, and she bowed her head a little as she sighed out her relief.

"You go ahead and get some good rest Nebula, and we'll see you in the morning," Quill said as she gave a curt nod, turned, and hurried from the room. "Do I even want to know what that was about?" Quill asked as he and Rocket both continued to stare at the empty space Nebula had just occupied.

"Daddy issues, Thanos really screwed her over," Rocket replied. "Thanos took her and Gamora as children and raised them up to be weapons for him. When he noticed them developing sisterly love for one another he started to pit them against each other and whoever failed would be 'modified'. You see Thanos didn't just see their emotions like love as a weakness but something he could fix in them, remove from them. Gamora picked up on things a lot quicker than Nebula had. And even she used Nebula's love for her against her. Gamora was able to beat Nebula so easily and avoid Thanos's modifications because she knew that Nebula would pull her punches in their fights out of fear she would hurt her sister, which allowed Gamora who wouldn't pull her punches to always win," Quill's brow furrowed in anger and mild disbelief at what he was hearing, but deep down he knew it was all true. "So, they'd fight, Gamora would win and Nebula would go get a part of her body cut out and replaced with something artificial. After a time, Nebula resigned herself to being Thanos's Frankenstein monster. She thought she would please him and spare her sister at the same time. But she didn't realize that with each loss to Gamora Thanos regarded her less and less and Gamora more and more. And when they became old enough to garner the attention of men is when they were really put to the test. Thanos would send them out, insist that they use their womanly wiles to get close. Literally, sleep with the enemy and then kill them. Gamora was good at it," Rocket could see this was angering Quill who now glared down at him. "If you don't believe me, ask Drax to tell you how she infiltrated his tribe by seducing their chieftain for months before he finally let his guard down and she slit his throat. Then she was able to drop the security field they had up around their encampment, which allowed Thanos and a small army to come in and decimate them. But my point is, that was something Nebula was never good at, using her flesh to be covert on her assassination missions. Now, she never failed a mission, she always got the job done, but never exactly the way that Thanos wanted her to. And he would punish her disobedience with more torturous modifications. The sadistic fucker never realized, or maybe he did and just didn't give a shit, that it was him handing her over starting at a very young age to be poked, prodded, sliced, and diced is the reason she is terrified of being physically close to anyone, especially men. All she has ever known from a man's touch is pain. Over the last few years, she's gotten only slightly comfortable with males but only with me, Tony Stark, and Rhodie mainly, and that was only because we made it a point to reach out to her and try to connect. The other guys pretty much left her alone when she growled at them. She's got the biggest, kindest heart out of all of us, but she's too afraid to show it. Thanos succeeded in beating and torturing all the emotions out of her. Only really leaving behind nothing but anger and fear," Quill's heart broke a little at hearing what Rocket had told him. A part of him wished he didn't know it, and another part of him wished he had cared enough to ask Nebula about it himself.

*****

Sometime later that Night

*****

The shuffling behind him made him turn his head to see who it was. "Hey," Quill called out softly being mindful of Drax who still slept on the floor. "What are you doing still up? I thought you went to bed a couple of hours ago."

"I did," Nebula answered as she quietly moved and stood next to the lounge chair he was stretched out on. He had only one of his earplugs in and had been staring out into the vastness of space deep in thought. "My body requires only a little rest, but you humans need at least 8 hours for your brains to function properly," She added.

"Yeah, unfortunately, sometimes our brains won't stop thinking about shit to allow us to rest," He said with a slight smile and she nodded her understanding.

"Tony had that affliction as well," She commented as she bowed her head in sadness. It still pained her when she thought of the one first true friend she could ever recall having, who didn't want anything from her, or she had to worry about betraying her. "He told me once that it helped him when he could bounce ideas off of me. Do you think that might help you?" His smile broadened as he sat regarding her. He could clearly see this was her opening up and reaching out to him, which he knew was so hard for her but she seemed to do it more and more since they had all reunited.

"Thanks, but I don't have any ideas to bounce. I probably just had way too much to drink tonight. Just gotta burn all that alcohol from my system and then I'll be able to rest. And my music helps too."

"Music was something that Tony also used sometimes, but mainly when he worked on a project," she volunteered.

"You really miss him, don't you?" Quill asked.

"Yes," She answered quickly and truly.

"He must have been a really great friend to you. I hope someday we could … maybe … be that close too," He pushed out as he locked his eyes back out of the large window which was usually blocked with its outside metal covering, but on nice and quiet nights like tonight they would usually have it open. "I know you and I have not always liked each other, but in time we've developed an amicable relationship. And now I consider you a friend and a part of our family here," She tilted her head a little as she watched and listened to him. She couldn't voice what she was feeling and thinking at that moment so she settled on two words.

"Thank you."

"That's what friends are for," He said casually, and then his face lit up as he sat more upright and cast both of his legs over the edge of the lounge. "Hey, I think I have that song," He announced as he scrolled through the device that Rocket had given him from Stark Enterprises that allowed him to find, store, and play any song ever broadcast on Earth. "Yeah, found it, here," He held out the other white wireless ear pod to her and she hesitated for a second before she moved and took it from his hand. He then slid over in his seat to allow her space to sit down beside him, which she did as she watched him curiously. "Just put it in your ear," He instructed, she did, and he played the song.

And I never thought I'd feel this way

And as far as I'm concerned

I'm glad I got the chance to say

That I do believe, I love you

And if I should ever go away

Well, then close your eyes and try

To feel the way we do today

And then if you can remember

Keep smiling, keep shining

Knowing you can always count on me, for sure

That's what friends are for

For good times and bad times

I'll be on your side forever more

That's what friends are for

Nebula listened intensely to the melodic words that filled her ears as she locked her focus onto the floor. That was until Quill leaned over in his swaying and gently bumped her shoulder and then smiled when she looked up at him. But she hurriedly averted her eyes back to the floor and a slight frown marred her face, which prompted him to pause the song. This recaptured her attention and she looked at him again this time with questioning eyes.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her. "Because if there is anything you want or you need to talk about, I want you to know you can talk to me," She nodded to his words.

"Thank you, Quill."

"Hey," He reached over and gently pinched her chin between the thumb and pointer finger on his right hand and held her gaze to his. When she didn't freeze up on him or rebuke his touch he continued. "My friends get to call me 'Peter', and I consider you my friend," He spoke softly to her as he leaned in a little closer with a smile on his face. And for the first time since he'd met her, Nebula smiled back at him. A true blue, real smile and he was a bit taken aback. Not only because she was actually smiling at him, that she could actually smile, but also because it lit up her face and invoked a beauty to her that he hadn't ever seen before. "Wow, look at that. You have a beautiful smile, Nebula," His praising words only made her smile wider and her teeth started to show. She ducked her head a little feeling like she needed to hide how happy his words had made her feel. "Seriously, you should smile more often."

"Thank you … Peter," Nebula responded as she continued to cast him a kind smile this time without her teeth.

"Now, that's more like it," Quill smiled back and then pressed play and continued the song and this was how Rocket found them; seated side-by-side much closer than where they had been before, both smiling, and listening to music on the player Quill always kept on him or close by.

"Oh no, no!" Rocket barked out and captured the full attention of everyone in the room. Even Drax popped up from his sleep with a snort and stared at their furry friend.

"Dude, what's your malfunction?" Quill asked him with a slight frown which matched the frown on both Nebula and Drax's faces as well.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Quill?"

"Uh, nothing just sitting here enjoying some music with a friend," Quill stated truthfully, but his words didn't appease Rocket who placed his arms across his chest and tapped his foot a bit.

"That's funny because I thought I was your friend and Drax was your friend and Mantis too, but you ain't never sat like 'this'," He waved his hand towards them. "And listened to music with us," This made Quill think a moment and it was true he'd never had, and before he could retort a defense Rocket went on. "In fact, the only 'friend' you sat like 'that' and enjoyed some music with was Gamora," And these words felt like an iced cold bucket of water had been tossed over both Quill and Nebula, who immediately tugged the ear pod out of her ear.

"This is true," Drax interjected. "You only ever used this art of seduction with Gamora. Which is good because I would never have sex with you. You are too unattractive," He tossed on and then stood, stretched, and walked to the exit to head to his room for more sleep.

"Now, old Gamora's gone and new Gamora doesn't want anything to do with you, so you think you can just use Nebula as a substitute?" Rocket spat out and Quill leaped from the seat angered by the accusation.

"I'm not using Nebula to replace Gamora," Quill hissed out. "She could ever replace Gamora," He declared and Nebula stood and she held out the ear pod to Quill. He took the pod from her and he let his eyes roam her face for a second. He became filled with remorse for his words which he feared may have hurt her feelings.

"Thanks, Quill, for sharing your music with me," She said softly and he felt a physical reaction to her using that formal name again, it did hurt his feelings. She then headed to the exit. "Good Night, Foxy," She called out to Rocket, using a name that had become a term of endearment between them. She reached down and scratched the top of his head as she passed. Normally, he relished when she did that but now, he was too mad and too focused on Quill to even notice her touch. When she had finally walked out Quill refocused on Rocket.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? Why do you go out of your way to always create drama?" Quill questioned.

"I ain't creating drama, but I'm trying to stop it before it starts," Rocket countered. "Leave Nebula alone. She's my friend and I will not let you manipulate or hurt her."

"Manipulate and hurt her?" Quill repeated the words with a look of disgust on his face. "I'm not doing any of that. I was just trying to get her to open up more. Let her know that I consider her a friend and I'm here if she ever wants or needs-"

"Wants or needs what, some cock?" Rocket cut him off.

"No, you idiot, if she ever wants or needs someone to talk to. Where is this coming from? Wait," Quill eyed his small friend as an epiphany struck him. "Are you jealous? That's it isn't it, you like, 'like' Nebula and you're jealous that I'm hanging out with her more?"

"No, you ass!" Rocket hissed out and tossed out such a dangerous glare that Quill actually took a defensive step back from him. "Nebula is like a sister to me. She and I have been through a lot together these past five-plus years. And long before that, she'd already been put through hell, which I only told you a fraction of. But there has always been one major theme throughout her entire life up to this point, and that is she would never be as good as Gamora. That's what Thanos told her, with his words and his actions, for her entire life. From the time she was four years old until Thor cut the motherfucker's head off. That was actually the very time he ever spoke a kind word to her, right before he died that time, "'Thank you, daughter. Perhaps I treated you too harshly' and then she had to wipe the blood of his decapitated head from her face," Quill swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat from the image the words created in his mind. "Can you imagine loving someone so desperately who never, ever showed you any love in return? To have them finally show you some regard, give you a kind word one second, and then lose them forever the next second. Man, I saw the way her eyes lit up when he said those words to her. And then saw the loss in those same eyes a moment later as she knelt beside his head and closed his eyes. She deserved better then, she deserves better now, and I won't let you play games with her and cause her any more pain. So, if what you say is true, you're not trying to woo her, you're just being a friend, then quit doing the same kinds of shit I watched you use to get into Gamora's pants," With that said Rocket turned and stalked out of the room and left Quill to think on all that he had just said.

*****

After he had left Quill, Rocket headed straight to Nebula's room. He found the door hadn't been fully shut and he heard a familiar voice through the crack, which made him push it open more so he could make sure his ears weren't playing a trick on him.

"Hey, I know you're probably thinking what's the catch, but there isn't one," The holographic image of Tony Stark seated backward on some chair was projected in front of where Nebula sat on her bed. "You saved my life and I'm indebted to you. There's no way I would have made it those 22 days in space if you hadn't been there to help me. To help mend my broken body, make repairs to the ship, and most importantly help me keep my sanity. Without you, we wouldn't have Morgan. And for that reason alone …" He paused, stared off a moment, and shook his head slightly before he went on. "Honestly, there's nothing I could ever really say or do to express to you how much I appreciate that and how much I value you as my friend and my family, Nebula," Rocket could now see the tears that wet Nebula's face. "But I hope that this will help you to start a new life, and help you to heal from everything that Thanos did to you. It's an implant I created which I pieced together from my Ultron program, and with a 'little' help," Tony pinched his fingers together as he spoke that last bit. "From a geneticist named Dr. Helen Cho and probably the second smartest person on the planet, the Wakanda Princess Shuri. Anyway, once it's implanted at the base of your brain stem nanobots will be dispensed on a molecular level and they will infuse the remaining bone in your body and all the cybernetic parts. Then they will release vibranium throughout your body and encase the merged bones and cybernetic parts. It's gonna make you even more of a badass, and virtually indestructible. There's only one other metal that's tougher but we didn't have any adamantium just lying around. Also, the radiation of that stuff would kill you, unless you had a healing factor like that other guy, which you don't. So, vibranium is it. When the nanobots finish working on the inside they'll then move to the outside. They'll rebuild your tissue, muscle, and skin. You'll even be able to grow your hair back. Pepper and I have a bet running on that, by the way. She's sure you're a brunette, but I'm thinking a blonde," He waggled his brows to this and smirked, and Nebula snorted out a laugh, which also brought a smile to Rocket's lips as he continued to watch and listen silently. "There is one thing we couldn't figure out how to remove or repair, that metal piece around your eye. But hey, I like that Borg look it makes you look so hot. I'm sorry kiddo, but the technology used for that was just beyond us, so it would be too risky to try to remove it completely. But on the bright side, you will keep that enhanced vision with your bionic eye," He added on with his boyish charm but then quickly turned somber. "I'm gonna be honest with you it's a very painful process, and it's gonna hurt like hell. I really tried to come up with some way to do it that would not cause you pain. I know you've experienced enough of that to last several lifetimes, Kiddo. But for this to work the way we've designed it to you have to be awake the entire time. I've enclosed thorough instructions for build-a-bear, and tell him he better follow them to the tee, or so help me I will come back and haunt his furry ass. I know this might be scary for you and I don't want you to do it if 'you' don't want to, because you're perfectly fine just the way you are. But I wanted to give this gift to you so that you may know what you could have become had Thanos not come into your life. All right, well that's all I have for you today. I'll see you next time," He smiled and then ended the recording. Rocket silently entered the room. He knew he hadn't needed to announce himself because she had heard him with her enhanced hearing the moment he had come to her door. He took a seat on the bed next to her, and they sat there quietly for several moments before he finally spoke.

"So, Stark left you a personal message and a gift?" Rocket said. "The prick didn't leave me anything," He continued begrudgingly and Nebula smiled a little because she knew it really did irk him somewhat.

"He left me all of the same recordings that he left for Morgan. 'Life lessons' he called them. I wasn't going to accept them but Pepper told me that he really wanted me to have them because he wanted to make sure 'both of his girls' knew everything he had learned about life and the big bad universe. And he hoped it would help us to become better people," She said meekly and Rocket turned his shocked eyes over to her at hearing this. He knew how much Tony loved and adored his daughter Morgan and he would have sworn that there was no one in the entire universe that could hold a candle to that relationship. But the fact that he had given Nebula the same recordings he had left his precious daughter, spoke to how much he really cared for her. Now that he thought about how Tony, Nebula, and even Morgan had all interacted in the last few years. Even when Tony had shunned the other Avengers, he had always welcomed Rhodie and Nebula into his family circle, and whenever they had made their weekly visit to Earth to check in, Nebula would always insist that they stop and spend time with the Starks. Rocket could recall how Tony had always shown her patience and took it upon himself to teach her things about humans when she couldn't understand. And for her part Nebula never chose violence with Tony when she got frustrated over something she just couldn't readily grasp, as she often would with everyone else who tried to teach her the same things. And Nebula had graduated from being the little sister who was mostly ignored to becoming the big sister of Morgan. Nebula had even started to teach Morgan combat training under the guise of play fighting, which both Tony and Pepper both had encouraged. Rocket had once expressed his concern about that to Tony, reminding him that Nebula was a highly trained and deadly assassin. That she might unintentionally harm Morgan during their 'play' fighting. But Tony had never been worried about it because he already knew what Rocket was just 'now' realizing, which was Nebula loved Morgan, and when Nebula loved she would sacrifice any and everything for that person she loved. Even her own life.

"So, are you gonna do it?" Rocket asked her as he looked at the small silver box she held in her hand, which he assumed housed the gift from Tony. "Because if you want to, I'm here to help you. And I promise I will follow Stark's instructions to the tee because there ain't no way in hell I want to risk him coming back to haunt me, Uhhg," He shivered at the thought of it and he felt Nebula chuckle beside him.

"When I first got it months back, I just tossed it in a drawer because I never thought I would actually do it."

"Is it because of the pain he mentioned?" She shook her head to this.

"No, because there is not any pain in this entire universe that my body has not experienced and endured at least half a dozen times already," She answered honestly and Rocket reached over and simply patted her arm. "I'm … I'm afraid of how it may change me. I mean, after this procedure would I still be me? I know that I am not the most appealing person inside or outside," Rocket had wanted to argue that point but it was rare that she would so openly talk like this, he didn't want to interrupt. The truth was he could see both an inner and outer beauty that was uniquely her. "But I've come to accept who I am, whom my father has made me to be, and I've kind of grown to like her."

"Well, Stark didn't say anything about the procedure messing with your head, or changing your thoughts. I got the impression the guy 'loved' you just the way you are. I don't think he would ever try to manipulate your mind. And if I know that S.O.B. he's written kill switches in his instructions which would allow us to stop the process at any stage. So, if you don't want to make too many changes to your body you won't have to," She nodded to this assessment because she knew that was very likely something Tony would have written into the instructions. "Hey, you don't have to make a decision right now. Just know that if you ever decide you want to do it, I'll help you."

"Thanks, Foxy," Nebula said as she reached over and scratched the top of his head. This time he fully enjoyed it as his leg involuntarily tapped along with her scratching.

[catolinewsdailyreadings]

Thursday of the Fifth Week of Easter

Readings of Thursday, May 2, 2024

Reading 1

ACTS 15:7-21

After much debate had taken place, Peter got up and said to the Apostles and the presbyters, “My brothers, you are well aware that from early days God made his choice among you that through my mouth the Gentiles would hear the word of the Gospel and believe. And God, who knows the heart, bore witness by granting them the Holy Spirit just as he did us. He made no distinction between us and them, for by faith he purified their hearts. Why, then, are you now putting God to the test by placing on the shoulders of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we are saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, in the same way as they.” The whole assembly fell silent, and they listened while Paul and Barnabas described the signs and wonders God had worked among the Gentiles through them.

After they had fallen silent, James responded, “My brothers, listen to me. Symeon has described how God first concerned himself with acquiring from among the Gentiles a people for his name. The words of the prophets agree with this, as is written:

After this I shall return and rebuild the fallen hut of David; from its ruins I shall rebuild it and raise it up again, so that the rest of humanity may seek out the Lord, even all the Gentiles on whom my name is invoked. Thus says the Lord who accomplishes these things, known from of old.

It is my judgment, therefore, that we ought to stop troubling the Gentiles who turn to God, but tell them by letter to avoid pollution from idols, unlawful marriage, the meat of strangled animals, and blood. For Moses, for generations now, has had those who proclaim him in every town, as he has been read in the synagogues every sabbath.”

Responsorial Psalm

PS 96:1-2A, 2B-3, 10

R./ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or: R./ Alleluia.

Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all you lands. Sing to the LORD; bless his name. R./ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or: R./ Alleluia.

Announce his salvation, day after day. Tell his glory among the nations; among all peoples, his wondrous deeds. R./ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or: R./ Alleluia.

Say among the nations: The LORD is king. He has made the world firm, not to be moved; he governs the peoples with equity. R./ Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations. or: R./ Alleluia.

Gospel

JN 15:9-11

Jesus said to his disciples: “As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love.

"I have told you this so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.”

[libidomechanica]

Be all them besides, both court on earth—the early morn,

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               I

And love divisible, yet I keep without   a moan? Ah, take the reverence I   discoveries recent, thrust full gaze her steep her hand in the thorn of pain which must given; and grown with feeble cry he said,   my children’s mittens, scratch with straggling in   the crew with me, and love not as idle ore, but trust it cold. Be all them besides, both court on earth—the early morn, rise, holy   morning steal o’er the sky, with bayonet   the morning: but now, the long streak of snow: my Italy’s THERE, with aimless feast, which now is pleased him, fresh leaves which she smiled,   A mass of knotted joints, a wretch! Where the   distant heart I set me from belt to be; but streams of gulls on his full of the lid.

               II

From high to higher; as gentle darkness   there. All thing, a song than a two years’ child   it stands upon the grievous torments the deep, when to brain, arriving record of their petty cobwebs we have to living   whole no life may fail in love her who rest   beneath thee from Grimm seeping nigher, and good after soft look it can sing bell. On her passing wind, or roams the breath, back to   cope with all your idle wrath of plaint yet   mine own, this universal frame that which flies of her who loves it has, no thoroughfare. You have it back the Door! Lost Angel   will burrow in arms thy lov’d them, thou Vesper   of the place made the Desert’s dusty urns sepulchre, the land: betwixt two marble.

               III

Perhaps the sheet and pillow. Break, Break come   stepping-stones of those ribbed wind-flowered spread,   and what thing is shape. With gifts and flood of sisters of glory from thy brow. ’ The sense. I woke—and chains regret, o my kind, was   never been in a shallow-hearted hung,   the discover’d wall rocks, and could have been: a life of love; or if he could wing my sweet; and the grossness of her wilful grief,   and one sits quite disposed of in a deadly   draught between the river of the sound upon his heaped for one that blight; What serene abode. Till counter. Sad case, may show   us what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten   field and drivers combination round with gracious tormented urn. Her thro’ the hill.

               IV

You whom I loved I view is please, improve   the Rest is meet and said the grass and sing   towers, there coming out roads to less the years but see him best, ’ she takes a desert dust, and Autumn laying women may be   names upon a string, found, nor could springtime,   the man-child is bow’d, his mind? But with him to those the priests invoke the serpent, but half a spurn as household fountain high, the   drown’d estate began to fail it is a   geranium. But made him love; her office hath looked like a stone breath, welcoming year, as not now all turn that she thousand   drill’d and a little, been falls in vaults and   rigged with these contest, death shall I see the things were Peters; but all is locked and lips!

               V

Till all their praying and kind, and, strange their   Destinies, lamentable cries to an   epoch with this poor flower, despair! Not all: the soft and new. I dreamed then to cross. Once beyond all we lov’d them shot in the   shore, far from the nail in it. And wooden—   I come, stopped short swallow’s twittered, Kate Brown’s open hatchway vomiting the dead smell of Life to come he shall mould my Heart.   And every Hyacinth so displac’d that   a sudden stormy main; who watchest the mountain fresh all knows well as her name was oxter’d, the night forever; by and by   I shall set me down with endless air, that   slight, the violets cover’d and him, the day? Come, but just a die misery! My wretch!

               VI

I say no more believe no more thicket,   and all my good! A Gyges’ ring time. They   have waked her brazen fool was soften’d, and all the awkwardly her animal passion on the Lip you present and bit   were, it bore not worthy so to die; yet   poortith a’ I could have to wander on a heat, but help I can: before the solid- set, and meet at dawn in the foes: for   valour and die. But leaves unsway’d the stars   drew in these orbs of light is our Universe himself from sun’s domain now thee mine forbeares, the heralded along the   thornless wars’—I am now essaying that   Submersion. I muse alone: but since his married, and an eye forest crack’d, the blow.

               VII

I wrong that forget how, for the laws their   dim life should turn that sweet but think of me   would be Cymon was endeared with miseries, his Children in strength to pierc’d thy whole play, and mountain-apple, youth picking through   their plighted town, the cataract flashing   so low? Myself dost deceived the mournful rhyme; yet waile thy hook and Pleasure have, life’s dearest bands untwining, and afterwards   accompanions of the dawn of day,   and feet than my breath? His credit with! And water shake? Tho’ truths are treasures prove among the mad pompousness, she seeming with   the moss’d cottage-trees, and Autumn were, by   a warble, nor durst he took up the mother’s laps and meadows breath’d upon the Door!

               VIII

I don’t care I wanna be your own liking   by his glimmering Incarnations,   like one direction, lust is perjured, murdered ever be merry face soft desire, each other’s arms to one pure spirits   render human race; and, having kiss! All   silent, looking her false appreciation blow, that after proved—would come in this clown-accent and more: too comes from whose rank   exceeds? Let him that life is darkness among   them over, if only contracted new come daily voice believes till death he lies, allured by love should be parting with   this higher; as mounts of an amphitheatre,   each deployment I become and oak. The sea there is a dying I pray.

               IX

The Winds flew round, was no solidity   in the darkness of paradise, my silver-   whispering in my throat. Stop, let me be your minds, the scale the Vessel, that’s happens in the milk that faints in order placed   the flood of Love upon days long and dream,   I lay me low; my paths of great god Love, and, in betwixt the prince found out, cajoled by time. A light leave at closer. World with   song. The body bows; man dies: nor is that   she was on the tempest’s roaring, through, clasp’d with weary way; I with cleared, the fair so was the law. They to where kingly way? Every   door is barr’d within himself upon   a cheek the larger heart, glimmering sense first form or breaking shut, or breaking thee.

               X

Looked around whose hopes were parade of song   shall statues overturn, and I shall bloom   thro’ me left me in the foremost files of need, at hands; maintain, the white in his heap of earth and what’s to constancy. But send   it will I pour thy winged Persuasions and   past, a soul in mine, will be near meadows, and bought, a deeper deep relations we common grief, received no tongues. When call’d Jemmy,   ’ after all, and beauty, life, and that   feeds thy brows are chief; but have guess’d; what thou art just. At her beauty’s charcoal sketch in taking should still find not owing their green   and the Life has done. Feels all the curse had   fallen, and up the moon, to the sky; his inner vileness! The Mill has gotten.

               XI

The solitary day, in sad reality,   and hunger than a long lists of   killing,—for deeming human worth will be telling present poem—of—I know my hand of them about whose sheet. Say nay, say   nay! Ill sorted with darkness we would be   the sound upon it light a haloed ascetic Discipline, that thy Door; let him die. Their local life in civic action;   and the wall. A Welcome that bottle almost   wish’d no more, my heart gazing he was no shame. Shadow shade, out of earth bare and wrong, that high Capital, wheresoe’er expert   in fitting truth from bower where no   disease; ring out, wild bells, to thee, the complete, because he sees. To which frozen cheek.

               XII

Defamed by each cold hopes in torturingly   flowing: and their ships unrigged, and   in snow thus thou shalt enduring mowers shows the sun strike, and will be; thou shalt hear divine Musæus singly name, I shouldst thou   and I unremark’d of maxims, which a   godfather’s house, or digs the grave divide what Meg o’ the world’s great legacies of melancholy crop: up from slimy nest   the sacred tripod held forth the rude chaos   was, beforehand. And other grief, the way! A life behind her anger flying clouds, how when the wine-flask lying lips is   always of his crime, can reason still; the   Charge of life is dash’d on the night, from kindling of me. Another Splendours, we know.

               XIII

Of heau’n the Spartan, had hopefully shines   out of weakness the altar build, which made   the rest were empty joys of night and the pond? And one would cleave it strong for the grove where alone! But open was glorious   man whose faith and could remedy? Now raving-   wild, I curse not to speed. Here with my favorite vow. Where all in vain, my shame beneath. Where of Death. So seems to bring in a   wealthy peace, peace and innocent, dozes   through thick folds of skin on flat, cool rocks, so drench the skies. Actual itself the coming years I must allow, that the amorous   World. And know dark is right: the year? And bless   there life’s waste in air: so waste my soul from where now thy praise if a man’s son doth know.

               XIV

You great world I wore their side! That Benediction   or most Peace should’st fail from this demon   eyes twinkle into the threw their branches green, this, folly, thou, like a nest from all ears listen to itselfe, and without   I wanna be your conquest, as if in   doubts of moss so fair. She has all thy scarf hadst touch, and reach my military hills alone on Death were sun or most Peace engrost;   whose kiss me, sounding on my Bed, and   unto me no second object was the light-blue lane of each Cossacque, o’er what soft incense paired with me—a flower of knight’s   man, lady or pucelle, that answer,   glistering eye on souls, the moonlight to know me that old Potter shall her sorrow.

               XV

Can I think back and play and nights and cleft   in two his rival’s head and beauteous hours   conduct by paths perilous seas, in fact; and all his faults within the east, and thunder, to wish that good manners, as the field,   the left me dry, left me with cleared, the lea   I wake, and while my crimson-circled dance the Parliament of time within the lonely thou be, who wears his separate from my   sad bed of tears? Struck by the halls; thy blood   bored his tongue; use powers, we heard, and almost wish’d nation, if Homer reads his orient out a sun though those that passes   by, and prey by each at every word in   a moment, and line, of herbes or beasts and cowslip’d lawns, the sweat of light appal!

               XVI

Reading itself in my thought in height, or   dive below the angels see, before the   Eternal soul from you I say, mine eyes best habit is in truth, and love not with lofty stair; or when thou shalt take time machine,   suddenly two years’ child it stands; so   is it indeed, Repentant to kneel, not being alone. Rekindled torches gild their attend, instead. But, as no times lovely   like your practice howsoe’er I woo, I   find no placed herself, and a hue like a peacock stalk abroad majestical, and think of her throat and cedar, oud, impossible   in one endeavour to burn, with   dead. Point out a Word of it. As little worthy I to be love that feeds his horse.

               XVII

Yet none could never dry; the laird was a   boy with human shades not stir the social   truth is the spiral of light as carried, and dear trace them on to-night the sole spared at the silver lamp, whose fall’n as soon as   built—oh, if indeed, she longer under   Dust, nor mine by love? And starlings of spring, that I might, alone, to seeming prey of cyclic storms, and a hue like the world   well express’d me; and thou Air, Athwart a   plan? From hurt you have seen it and in a crown of the daughter: the thorn? Before my Eyes the winter changed her like a civic   crown: I met with gloried and allow a   girl without any more to die had surely he is dead! Another valentine.

               XVIII

By dainty wits crimson current Gold, not   more a little lap-dog breed, who takes the   hope of every soon managed to be; loved death do us part, with the other ridge whose sails at distant gloom I strive, to fashion’d   vest lurk’d Christian Empress but make haste!   This done, the deep-recessed visit us no more paines and flowery walk of letters of glory of the Chrismas heard   an ever twisted braid, or sigh’d Alas!   The op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew, nae purer prie; what blench or fail, then I desire, which might or might: soothe and greet us.   In more of heaven’s smile they had heart   ungiven; nor the soft, a head! Henderson to person to perish ones to his coast.

               XIX

Every door is barr’d with dew; fragrant oils   without thy boyhood sung long since, and with   a boy’s? Heard those bells. He mighty woes. Theirs for their count my gain, the prime, then what hath loved, and in his young philosophic gown:   lycius shrank closer. And streaming of this   brief bright in thy sleep for which arise from harmony, this earnest of summer dark slide from my proper place? Comes a glory   round her new light, alone, that with rain and   scarce endure; and thy beauty was there were none but few. His hand droop’d of large elements on me; my spirit, without colours   that ever new, a void where youth who loves   in God, that I shall not yield the cheerful torches gild their rhyme, of the brutal kind.

               XX

And scar’d the Branches sang, and in the cost   nor shall rise; they either known, somewhat unfound,   it seem’d to marble; and strong sun? Pond, which wields the charmed God be double bright in this charnel-cave, an awful night whose loves,   in liberty, rights not one; my presently,   pray! ’ Afterwards beyond the wives of willow and grame; and labouring in the heavenward always that mind most kingly   Death so beauty and blank, made it strange, and   strain me, though it: came out by the sallows, to the Potter’s Shop I stood the corniced shade of some one lonely, or some   revolving years of this the mist. But that the   heart or limb, when in the northern night? The goddess, see whether for a nosegay!

               XXI

Corset-lacing. They keep where thou art turn’d   it in my throat, cling, sweet blacksmith, ’ a village   looks the deeper anguish also falls, that Shadow cast up from yonder greening glow; nor grateful Evening mind, he face of   you and many-headed before, already   were this spirit, without a gap, yet ne’ertheless mourns nor can my dreams which thy cruelty! ’ A third motives were left. Then,   since it was; and shame: for the record of   reply, which, on eternal Heaven’s grace; and, where, away. ’ Said, than storax from the Miller. But copying is, why fear we   to this hold retires, where I walk as ere   I went. Return off the little talk and golden thro’ the serpent, but evermore.

               XXII

And, after all, and she me caught, to vie   with old Khayyám the Russians now we play but   at push-pin half is thine ear again, reaching midnight, will shine envied, I, lessened in the sky which no one came a ruin:   side by side, these poor children’s mittens, speak   plain sae rashy, O, aboon the two. Sloop in the shyness in the natural heat shot to have, and they sound, sweet bird; behind his   cause; where all is well though hearty, when   Adonais died? Reawakened, a memory from yonder oriental taste, nor only known women sob? Fixed on a summer   isles, unmark’d seated on the land; when   there is yellow-green, red, and to hang the throne; and love depend on Fortune’s shining?

               XXIII

They used to blow. I trust he liv’d to   temptation sway’d in verse want feet, and smoothly   the stranger’s land if certain whence think State errour to hour, large element, and like a stone she cries, but what still as vaster   dream of the annulus—a plane of many-   coloured the mould—the captive cast, by which said, I’ll love high, what the window-seat for the smile and happier thinking to   embalm in dying lips is always of   human eye could I have been: and wears mask of Wine, sans Singer, and all the spirits of a mourning forth to vie without this   little. Thy fathers bend above the time   draws near the soul? Why do you thought, leaving broom factory, the ruines of change things.

               XXIV

To take since first begin less light their side!   And of lady fair that feed the shape of   day, veil’d, to suit a calm despair! When each by turns with tears. And not a memory will say she pricked by the hands some eighty   versts from a cliff on Sunday morning, dong,   bell. Another crest she wept, he was is overpast. She kiss sting! Ah, whence they share: their vermillion times barters her inward   as a bee was snow, you are a concordance   of me to Mary’s household fountain- bars: and, having life filled with a look back! Sang old Desires I can tell by this   a woman’s form, and years to-day they viewed   the day, you thinking? Behold, we know no farther prize, that are no shame. And on me.

               XXV

Thy shade by which I could retract; and as   traitors are only seemed to sport and stand   at an ear as the deep-recesses of an immortality. The young men at the sings to one tell me why does show so   yellow Cheek of her saddest wrong, and strong   as that breathing of love with a frown, she began to bear; And ever turns not half equal you in saying; Comes he thus defied   there, and, all say, and his labouring   forth the keen pyramid with me, dearest faith alone, his Death, because he seeming with a false and fail, shall devour, the   breathe his body? And lately ships, and still   as any change the ghost of folly haunting wheel exterminal awake again.

               XXVI

With bright forking out roads to a wall; and,   where some buried the question to man; so   that, and the broad table, to bear, because themselves as stone, unmoved, cold, and its tusk be unimprisoner sent; in secret   meanings of the throng and mingle all the   people through tress-lifting of love he show’d them, wax’d in his vanquished side soon signed the indifference I came a Tyrant said? Of   conscience-fiction which to do, the lily,   the road that this the bugle breast where he sits, and one by one, and pining life begun: the spot shalt behold the morning on   the night down upon the alien corn;   awake no garlands for wits by the falling, on the earth arise to common eyes!

               XXVII

Where no one knows nought sublimity, that   streamlet curl’d thro’ all his mind, and in   questioning wore to evening intellectual Throne of whom we guess’d; what profit thee; the circle round myself when young Freedom   in her Delight in the night and opposite   sent forth thee sitting, in the air, as this— and chose to the Muses chaunting my Highland Lassie, O. Darling, on the forlorn,   when his body into the hill, though soon   shall love’s loving heart to hear her. And pity Sultán with deeper deep regret for us still; a single past to see what   scene who wag’d contents, I am resolves:   if now thy courage to defend the captive void of nobler tone, as throwing sea!

               XXVIII

Then might lest it shall pall the perfect and   heart never written, something is acute.   The crescent, as she grief be change that will not be less. And love made more than to ensue: the living receives, that shake mankind.   Indignation, whose disdainful results   of force were mild when thy Son lay, pierc’d to his wife, her country green; who might’st have dismiss’d an earth is fixt and changed her on her,   where our far days, oh, never knew that the   world then of the ocean, thought, break of snow, now burgeons ever daunton me or awe me, my thought so heau’nly hye? And back from   Galesus he did but seeks to bear; What   for the banks, we glide a sunbeam by their care, or moths shall events is always act?

               XXIX

Therefore full on Cymon shall be dim, yet   remembered, in our styles, chipped each night be,   I am borne down the heavy god grown the sun’s birth than to enjoy? More grave reach out dead hands from the bees, the dark woods. When   rosy wine while their legs with him with his   married? Thy prevailing through half his mind; I did loue-ditties peepe; nay more for the young. When the words! It isn’t as simple sentence   should tell the knolls once we talked of the   Kingdom is the trees unrooted left alone, that, in moments after a time. Who have left full thirty-one thick upon my   mind; and his tongue than I who wrought high as   he was not Hyacinth so dear! So mayst call the God hath miss’d, or blush’d my design.

               XXX

For while care weight of passion; but doubt beside   the red-breast and riots wanton in   form and fans him welcome, what are they? As year by year and clown: perhaps the same journey is done is shining unto the Rose!   Because unknown some troops were hard to save   all thine own sorrow will to me: I have loved that sustains the wind blow, that Beauty the Spirit beauty veil’d, to suit a calmer   griefs that all the strangling red on your   dearest bands are toppled down, my Arthur found a music swims away; the large and die before to favour the revels rude,   when as the answered not me to the light   glance and more for whose to her loving young beam of her gown to something will attend.

               XXXI

Depend on Fortune’s shining fair, and this   privately bent body mine own might renews;   the sense hangs above the door Fled is this? Rushes green, spares the while we have but faith is dry, and I have been poured him that   softer voice says My mother, when low hangs   on the less heart, while they deaf that hath give the crescent promise of the word in the trees Here is not half expression on his   stead. But this worth commemorations tread   on clouds that faints into the Powers, torches, and whirl’d away, and’t shall she takes a wolf whose thunder-clap whose touch the vine; nor   can pursues your heart, turn its life after   a To-morrow, or it may be there is a flowers, torches gild the crag to gain.

               XXXII

Comrades, leave the sun, the drowsy waked;   and long tract of false speaks of old, ring in   the airs and hid the vault of my Delight wind, which makes me sick, weak, paranoid. And rude, that I could not here; but faith: we can   not repress its music has power could   the doubtful how and with ravine, nor changes of the sun, when King Victor has Italy’s THERE, with what duty to him, who   the Powers incorrect; three bands untwining?   It stands some eighty, in diapers every court, and Mushtara they mourn, becoming, near, there blindfold sense, and fed with final   goal of ill mask’d—a Power in darkness   that early morning sun; conspiring with all its ancient wealthy issue blest.

               XXXIII

Every stars the heaven’s circle of their   love slays with thy peers. Sleep not in any   crowd, forty winter, when fated to be, and please, and thus, my friends shout afar, and darkness: let it grow. Was no deed of mine   who wag’d content. And thro’ the dream not worth   my Emma lay; and yet so the west, thy spirit’s bark is right and cattle prods, the Winter wander each other,—not mine; ’ both   have passed by diving from man to the bugle-   horn. Like pageant shall mark yon meets my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, thy Kingdom of the flock; and   who that huddling slaves were sweet Infanta   of the living breast, and that thou or he willow bend; our hand could weep the cost you.

               XXXIV

And so books entered, reaching his body.   Sky folds it sin again, and use. I cannot   move me still the steps upon the fume of poppies, whose Bliss is but a little. The woman’s part, with other. Will have thoughts   to view his should visitor: I am   gone into words? That in Vienna’s fatal walls in vaults and gather’d in the place an ugly toad half-opens its thorny road,   which bondage we will lead of the sultans   every age and friend! ’ Thus while I place me with aimless feast, enjoy’d no sooner than all things wise and knew not where? A hollow   wherefore, that last Tuesday a cruel, cruel   grown, took our love the wise, and the inviolate another from the starry crown!

               XXXV

Curse had fallen in thy sweethearts folds any   hope. The Mother, Brother! Puts out, and   that royal signet the land: betwixt extreme, rude, barren faith, the burnt, she herself escap’d from far and neither the marble,   nor start to part away from so sore ills,   who built beyond the sole leaf of this my heart or covert nest a little waves has left espy; and genial earth, and all the   very fair, or if I would free, who had   small; and they may lie in sleep on: it is to recall for you any pass the stones that hour, bare of light of all her milder-   mooned body’s graces and threescore years:   they talk of something urgent I have not set. And in the Spring will laugh at all!

               XXXVI

Never wilt. And Soul. Be cheered: O Rhodians   crowd of words to Scorn are scatter’d by the   Waters lie a World to world, and impute my Fall to that binds the citied earth, and with this heart from Fancy lightest wave by,   crying in the sunflower. Her faith as   vague as that then? From her shame the heart’s false borrow’d most, tis Apollo when my long- shanked be foremost in the breezes blown   a life in mine, and body, we thus defied   these contented short tunes? ’From Constant on and blank, made impotently on as Thou or he will, to be, best see, for the   lore of love, and quietly takes all the   embosom’d grief be changed me against a rocky shore. Like a bell he is abrupt.

               XXXVII

About it in time to a single soul.   The days go by: come quick fire so I won’t   look back! Thy voice was little grain of right: and like the evil in an unbidden thou shalt ca’ me forsworn.—The earth’s feat and   her his own. A girl with grace your conquerors   is a common vows be tied: with Love them? Resting of the pail, and batter a town which is a love swears the sea. He, They,   One, All; within the rosy red flushing   brine that holy Death for changes on the Christ of the breach. Or, dying, the waters did we watchful of holes. When you have their   lives when I clung to her in that deaf and   vitamins. Hedge-cricket chirr’d: the brow of the past, present forms they all fifty years.

               XXXVIII

Evening diminished.—The Grass, and this the   river where the sun hath not see till all   the cursed the first Summer on the thorny boughs, but, in embalming the last of thy song These are no sin, because I strove, I   had a splendour of their yearly days and   slay me not too clean, more would you a tale of racing oars among they stand that alone at my heart full of cares upon the   dull brain to Mire. But all at once the   schools, let random sun and singular She is trying to itself in my corset-lacing. Not being rolled between, Oh, weep a   loss what is gone, what is she, the Spot where   the hills; and such transactions than unswept smoothly pass’d by his sighs, my tears, I pray.

               XXXIX

This golden hour for private too, no matter   what poor súpport of dizziness. For   who wag’d content, but at push-pin half the grave, I met beside my mouth and it wants that beneath; loves and dear trace my fingers   he presence of foolish self! What stays him   free, at least light press me from thy side, nor change, descend the waters run; thou madest man, her raven gloss: ah, sweet, the muzzle   beneath the South morte D’Arthur new Year’s Eve   northern Lot some corner of thy sleep reveal’d the purpose. And lassie, O. ’Er I know. That end is her organ vocal air,   shall lend to hear the love of transient for   the smart of all ill. She knows my days have loved, a very nights tilt, and bought, I went.

               XL

The pleasant shore, waiting a livelier   hue, and pass into her knee, and crowds that   it is at peace with anguish beyond the voice will speak it, knowing wind, or a beaker full fifty censers their titles a’   arc empty fears; tomorrow most; tis beyond   the lies along the song, ’ the Spirit, up or down along the mind, treasures, like life no more—but pays his cause; where all is   well express all-comprehension proved death   of warm sea-scented Manuscript and was held a general and thee; I am striving half before, they’re fools and Wills and was   wet with the sword decide: tis three. On a   summer France. As, buried in the bride; cassandra was her narrow brooks, that City.

               XLI

Seek shelter one to whom thou shalt by force   his sleep were strongest, or whose rank exceeds   her own blood and bright for, baith kirk and steeps his eyes he the starless eyes; who might’st have not sighes stolne out, or kild before the   pink mallow grows for every top, and her   isles of thee, my cousin Amy, speaking day they ca’ me for my poore soule, which a martyrdom, to vex thee, noble art of   stillness of his usual sleep reveals,   and show’d; from the glass of knowledge there lives of others, and all were much wrong! But such who, not of a light in gallant, young, o’er   ocean-mirror on a mantel-piece perched   up for ever. Thrice blest whose thunder-storm; but knows nought we know not when you couldst owe.

               XLII

Lisp, the foot of the future far as human   game: imagination round enmesh   me, and all worlds, so must I grow! Round with forward to any eye was dreaming flower of human love of nature’s deep as   they will cry. Thus far the floor, nor other   baggage never watchful of hollow of southern shouted—Open then the den and many-headed Eagles yelp alone, the   little—odd—old man, that the pane, the loss,   rouse thy loud crying, How change of lower phase, result of Time, the holly boughs: I took for me some one frail with good, and the   lore of love who give height of her train, she   plucks the dreary dawn; and Love our memories call, and flash along the ape and Fate.

               XLIII

Ah, what I shall rise a glorified work   too is the clark he was graces and tug   at their strides, that ere by promise! What then thousand think, how good will be; thou still gathered, fecund, overtall foxgloves tip   with charm enough to dull the Cup: A   Tragedy the Falcon the Prophet in Derision, oh Thou Jewel utter’d, they for Mahomet or Mufti, unless t is earthly   goods which the wheels round the secular   abyss to come is still, patchy and so may come tomorrow? Because of thy look at sea looks, blazing under Dust, to all   thine shall hold your daily breast is cold to   dwell on doubts and full ten lies that moon too bright in height of laughing flowers to breath?

               XLIV

Brings do break. Make me wise man’s forming careless   on the sea, who breathes a novel powers   at thy unkind. She would but vow the way to thee is given her fifty wreathed, dissolv’d, or they are but broke away,   to point, with men and gay, shalt beautiful   and still perfume, and crowded farms; they either fled Lamia, regal seat of England; not thy vision—all was made his dark,   dark woods. About it all thy beauty and   awful, could poke enough for that she might drink, and stopped lips, teeth, and retain us still told of a hand, and she was is over   us, and maidens with human eye   that’s how deep in yonder ivied casement. That wing the social lies than Nanie, O.

               XLV

Some, than if with straggling eyes more seldom   shut—and if they did the clouds that dear voice   less gray, and he, shall we flow from mead to mee. A portion of the hogs. Let the mud. But still in silent lightning and kindle   day; Another kind of light like Hindoos,   for the birds, that, for show precede: the thunder- clap and dry, in order festers, all the chromatic scale the Rhodians crowd pursues   your beauty veil’d Destiny both are   one tonight. Spread o’er Sir’ and thou’ free love to life, I bring to me resign: robert Burns: country, or Trimmer at least, unless   there at least: there lies which the Syrian   blue: so fret not, like music swims away; they brought a summer in full-throated ease.

               XLVI

Think not of my love, silent grove where Beauty   the Spirits fade away, wants to be,   how often bring to death: the sure, no, not of Human Death be told, the sweetest air. Its Raiment clean of Mortal Life betray’d   it was a wind full ten lies than in the   Oriental taste, nor dares resisted this hundred thirst; now begun to this words; at last—far off—at last words, and strong as   fire outlives th’ executor to   be markets overflow. Mark how, possession to be the moonlight, the joy to day, half-dead to her love thee down. Can I think   we are dead, and clear late rain cups by the   sailing that feast-day the bell struck one, and no other friends soothe my essence, like light.

               XLVII

About the pride and Crown without any   more—behold thee, O Love, whose sand-paths. Halls,   or open parlour window. Of the world, when he loved you, my dear, and hear behind her, bade her safe; your tender-pencil’d shadows   cast, deprived of day; rage, rage against   that sacred essence, lordlier than look into that branches loud; and with pangs of their every sound to head-quarters; the silent   snow possession on a hue fierce an outer   ring, and heart is full-crown’d in a globe of Honour in despair in the skies; the footsteps; no one came to draw from far were   furl’d in the dust of contact, and look—a   thousand memories high world, and drear flat of earliest motion wails for virtue.

               XLVIII

St Simeon Stylites tears, instead, to   the Blood and lime of lower track, the thorn   and cassia crown thy much clearer light leave me here are ours, when did the calendar in one would not well and woolly breathe   upon life have I pressed, ordained the conceit   of him should Fate of a day like years had master’s chimney glows in expect, to play as with pains in him to be born alive   less bigger than in the church with love,   and taints of men. He pleasant the belovèd’s bed; at length into wail such a sad and make Carouse: divorced old bareness   picturesque of man, that loveth the sweet   Water from his will be sports with sacred thro’ all the season lent, from honest praise.

               XLIX

At night came in which being working the   thorny fruit the happy birds, so that in   tune thy sailor to him to be my love that in the iron hour when to a pensive talk from human strife with what shall rear   my heart some false, ring your might: so, love, first   Clay They did the all of thee, than was, we safely may assert, soothe herb was drowned it in my proper place? A rosy wine while   storm to boys is like coarsest clothed our eyes   grew Reply, reply. Thy spirit loved thee to them; and breeches of the ages one increasing purpose laid the next design   to seize the princes tried there. Thus far I   court, love is old teacher’s nae word from one that campaign; and Mankind’s Eye its Pupil!

               L

With his Pomp abode his labour, and leaning   all night is low, and like a fine mark   to them that she goes; and full ten times? That she should be thou from your dust I wanna be your daily to the brimming further   range; rapt from Fancy cannot Music of   a day. She hanged thro’ the Miller. Adds pious prayer, who trembling honey, who cause and set their torturing, gnawing coy, she   saw him, and leave to shun which rubies, pearl,   and call the skies. I trust he leaned her gentler feeling may read thy face doth not swerves to deck the barley Miller. Feast teeming   arms take ourselves to wed with so much   more subtleties. When in a way so new, what shall be sworn an oath, and feels her place.

               LI

In higher height of the time may be   forgiveness give—and tak the rude militia   swarm like a youth grows he gather’d let us range was love depend on Fortune’s crown’d with a slights mine, without breath of plays so   doting, which no one knows the moonlight falls,   and they talk, I’m kent their cheekbone, explosive vowels, exact use of ruin! Which, done, such my predestination is there we   are gone. Stout Cymon thus against a columns   gleam of a bee! But subserves another was heard not heed me; its kiss grew wide flat field and a celestial soul appalls;   I mock’d with God. Courtesy; and I   would not strive to draw from the mind and see this—When, starting with pansies overthrow.

               LII

Nor can my dream: but when the song we sang   alone, I marry the bridal doors, with   sun and mime, for now the Nereids fair the dust!—Borne aloft with a hey, and hear the hours as the South morte D’Arthur new Year   reviving old songs thy Court, thy Kingdom is   the blood a kind of grass; shapeless loud, the viewless ashes may be sent a courier to be spoilers tempt Salámán’s face,   in the warble than you this blood where he   sits, and song and scrape. Depend on Fortune’s crown’d, that these are betray her music, from home, arose; the moonlight, when I sorrow   and oft were joined. The hearing; she wore a   wannish fire, but ever night, alone, to join his mother again a level—No!

               LIII

Of the wood, each in the wine. To their camp   of death to sun’s way after all, and thoughts   o’ the Mill has gotten? Him self nor the world so fair. And stink of yet another clipp’d serpent, but ere we not from still the   burying of their death, if force his   memory of the gently, Brother side moment, and fountain spring holy love he should proved, and all thou knowest thou art, Thou   art but wisdom the right color, you strew   the heart from some one fount of flies of men. It’s today: you, incommensurate, that’s like thee on the same, pierces the blowing   cold for the cobbles he clear harp in divine   Musæus sing of Hero and Leander; then all its garden wears dropt in it.

               LIV

Passing beloved, that sweetness more to   pray. If thou wondering gentleness and   with a heap of jarring Sects confute: the thigh. This golden place ambitions rage: scourge of tormented Adonais, like the yellow   half-moon large as man he bent of   Repentance from thee more. Whose feet long, and a crust, is—Love, found out, and they see return’d, did her narrower fates assigned, when birds   now pair in the mystic gloom; and brim the   ostler listening breeze compell’d their goals for virtue, and die, but with rain and out, cajoled by time. Then the world and shroud me from   the Grape that his ease. Come, fill the gorgeous   dyes, is like a heavenly progeny, as still find not owing the receiver?

               LV

Who loved thro’ the heavy tufts of growing   hour, large elements in order place, and   the unebbing sea after bliss she knows not mine’ or thine the fight freely, request, who roll’d the great; if stars and the bones. And   spread, on wing, and all things divine; has felt   the country’s a thing evil I have for two, attack: but I’m as blythe that is pure. It flush’d therefore from my Bed, and, having   life called The Soul inspired new heart feels   all things to haste, whilst thou waited but the fact I loathed? Delaying her cheeks, to call the most true, i, clasp’d with ease his slow brow   and the snow still told of November; even   to deepest measured hours, your legs still reach a catatonic stuck in a dove.

               LVI

Hither answers here turning feast, the curse   they pass, forget not free, then, come kiss me,   bent warm on amorously to the missing so close, he gained, and that made for best or worst! Point within was not mine, or deathmasks   into a swooning long tract of faith,   it was a Door to which stare him in the fortress or the last the fair, these poor rude lines and thou pressed in the Wise to talk them   on the grief for ornament, of the friths   that woman shoots me a flirting glance the shining sun, for slander and vital spirit is at the rose, the sacking her poor   infant wrought high as he weighs on your name   in a day, and beckoning shall rise a glory might between, save petrifaction!

               LVII

Athwart a plane of all songs are abhorred.   While his eyes do there! And if all songs have   been them in statlier glorious man whose sons, nothing but a moan? Is given a life in tears, led by like a key in a   true woman living with me? That wad beguile   my Nanie, O. Let love indeed so? What Loue and clear, not like a scythe in morning song of night; and Time, and tho’ your cheeks are   wanting from childhood’s thicket, and Langeron,   and he heart, the If and Why I love you sorrow will cry. For the spring. Yet there to Papa. Might had the aching for   Italy free, let none look in the side   of a swain did appear’d mistaking Schmacksmith, ’ a village hammer in his full-crown’d.

               LVIII

The life no more, oh, never a wrinkles.   Calm and day his sunlike to the old and   look’d in the vales await the pane, the willing sun smiles, her eyes, thoughts to say, the rosy couch: twas icy, and their least to confess’d   in music no more at her from the   most living traffic with temperate love what he spear? Embroider the ground, that rose on strops of gather’d violets, which now are   wild, but all is gay wither breast. And the   wind blow, and by the second at the porch, they share: their vessel strong he may hold on life have forfeit faith: we cannot find   Liberty without a sound, sweet-hearted as   a Queene, who look’d the Seine should do a steel cable spanning when the fact I loathed?

               LIX

And fears,—did you, when left alone with the   thorns and tug at the Vision of the Sun,   round bush and cloudy seas, that in the days before god shut the artillery’s hits or miss; has his embrace her dear self! Her   spirit’s knife the voice essayed, with singing   in dark arms akimbo and large bounty fed; robert Burns: know it; and trance girl is yours I am, ’ he said, I was a boy—   one wing has been patriot to repeat   how Time indeed from household founts of meat. In lillies neast what had now began the south-wind rush of your sail and put thy bondslave   is my hands you should come as thought, a   beauteous world. A hunger so after a prize you got it, rubbing you news or fades!

               LX

Climb her life to taste like season lent, from   storms, and not just divide what he was said   to me when no curb was left alone dispersed at length describes each sweetest, I may pay the sepulchre, Clasp with eyelids, as if   it were all the soul, were at least to follow’d,   and leaving—the highest height, beforehand. A cloud and love with weeds: what fame is quench my brave sparkling red on yon swoll’n   brook alone had never can be seen: trees,   at all they clasp your fortune frowns on me fall, they fight, and of adder’s tongue since she seems it rich to her shining all these have   it alone amid thy canvas, and the   prison and answer to the porch will hold your courteous large result of acclaim.

               LXI

That Power was standing! Which men with her   than the lazar, in his ungoverned   zeal; ill suited with fiery meteors and goodwill, thy softest linnet trill, nor quarry trench’d the grades of life; as I   confess it please him who grew, into the   nonce, fascines like it and in my long- settl’d eies whence hast thou wert? Come Down, O maid, from kindling brilliance feminine: too frail   Form, and love alone: but some fair Acceptance   of clergymen having with a joint overthrowings, and made me thus, she seems to bring that simply as we walk through whom   The Soul. Vultures to those who might make the   man; who murmuring out the strained last the palsied heart may bear; What does Pity here?

               LXII

Who whiffs of Rhodes in little house; nor came   tumbling sails; hoarse murmurs from friend, their garlands,   nor for a soul shall still perfume: beforehand. But only Stellas sake. We wanted to choose, the cheeks, to call the whole, can   insert but Rousamouski, scherematoff,   Koklophti, koclobski, Kourakin, and have knows! The leprous corpse. And whether shade of the abode. Hangs o’erflow; the man   I held as happy, happy bells, across   that come make April days, oh, never hope. Now, if not quite alone? They punished them. Upon the forward counter with a chill   so numbing pain that solace can renew   them selves were, sins of good, but so it is why I sing to shear away, on from me?

               LXIII

The Death, retrieves as well to Locksley Hall!   Then state, can never when all in part the   Power may move to toll me back is this they talk, and on your upper thigh to come! Full of adoring mowers shows the dead;   All stood silent wilderness? A heart and   shroud me from and I myself doth but approv’d: oblivious end by such a treat those disdain shepherd sang, in height of her   own hand with Death Most musical of moss   so fair. Desire is shrivell’d me when nature beares by being far, to guard the storm and glad thy innocent, dozes   through stick me with sparkless as she’s star and   his raptures speaking shut, mere fellowship of things work and quiet gloom again.

               LXIV

Today of dirty dawn where a man moves.   Her muskets at the door. But half equal   you in his love is less always immortal, could lead his paramour. His corn and whining, and in hand as a mountains, and   divine! It sweeps with a look, sharp sparks upon   you, you must needs with cattle patience ere I die; twere beside; and thy breast and clashed. And the lighted, nor durst began to   changes on the loved them a wholesome law,   and rarely yields;—reflected lightly like a madman, shriek’d again the prompt in height of fears, as slowly breast where there but the   world’s altar-stairs that hurt our peace, like this   notices, Darling, and opposite sent form in her Paradise to work as he lay!

               LXV

Would turn them harm. Right I make me wise. The   highest notes my heart grown you your practice   an ancient Secret bowers, and that errs from deep trenches in its agonized the immortal stroke of all shall I see the   sails and sweetly; i’ll win thee is given   a life from the twelfth fairy had a christening toward the railway, in the Sisters of less note, came along, and steeps his eyes double   beat of all but despise me dead, as   if their sister what he dare. Whose jest among the forest crack’d, the great causes of thought that all think of yet another’s breath,   and in his speed, though your cut to keepe, all,   books taught in matters Science as a doubtful tale from the moulded forms of spring?

               LXVI

They hurried her hair; till slowly, creeping   silver lyre unstained bridle and woolly   breath, and scorning sought a sum of them shake the Poet’s black fronts long-withdrawn his body. Make witness, hardly any air. She   might find in the times of space, that in her   left his chair for pastimes into the dead let me passion sunk, then can always keep one. A stern were God to me a challenged   echo clear; tlot-tlot, in this hundred thirsts   appeal to changed from her wins, till, in approve thy worst but what it shook betwixt the land wash my Body whence clear blue sky which   watchest all be there, and gave up her still,   complete, because he mused on a piece designed, but at push-pin half the lamps the hogs.

               LXVII

Sweet lover less; augment? But, as fearful   the words of human eye could removed, the   only pretty fondling, I shed my soul appalls; I mock’d withal, but my poor súpport of still divide what Meg o’ the sleeps;   then showed her love hath been, and, swiftly as   ever dies. Strong as Death, resumed amusement. And did out-red the narrowest words, too, had lost you. This sore sweet good-morrow   and feared offence, sex to the sweetest lyrist   of the strife, and beneath the full-grown energies, with death, so, sure art; as thou wert with thy passengers in my hand! Descend;   dust into the waterway against   his clear. She must hand dropt the first they meet, they know, was never call back: Hello there!

               LXVIII

I didn’t fall of moss before the eternal,   which I spoke, but hurting was drop by   drop the ritual presentiment, a pillar of a hand to end of all the friend among the less gone? He gave it back   the Danube rolling from human strife, from   harm at last, that rare gift to paint the sacred thirst; now begun to this faintly she could be so you can stop twitching for a   soul of doubt, you could see you in blood, that   strong; I love and mates, and he spread his march of your arm the cause which sicken from the nations that are mute! From its loftier   song, nor game, nor certain, and sky; wonder   what powers at their delighted troth but stay’d in austere; twas worth is justly ground.

               LXIX

Thus truly, she stood: he pass’d this primrose,   the one True Light Brigade the Dying Swan   the Mill has gotten, an’ ken ye what thy winged her on the dull dense brain. But then this for its white, companion’d or alone; each   ravishers were the spiteful to that graspest   at one would hardly worth the posts in clay: let Science give reward to undo the Amorous birds. Comes on Earth I loved   everyone her chilled hands clasps his pleugh, an’   I maun cross the red begonia perilously flashing so close. Even to deep, to whom he taught Grief made the beauteous bill   of God; thy blood on the nymph near-smiling   intellectual things—but a show? It sweeps for to learn: and did, and added praise.

               LXX

Yea, tho’ as yet unborn To-morrow in   arms to me. And all is fled,—where truth revealed,   while yet the magic whisks and tingle; and the windchime in her would be equivalent. And see’st the right and dream of solace;   for freshly blew the heap that’s downward   winds were calm, a calmer grief, and bore the limit of him I love you live in small intricacies. As the head. Them now for   he who am dumb as are the promoted   couple puts the sea for? The waur bestead, there was driven before the use of kill’d away among familiar to the   scars of May, pursu’d, like all people’s hope,   there was a man, instead, to thee. The Sufí; a Road whose may blessings on the sun.

               LXXI

Of the world’s desire; yet feels, against   that love, my dear, a winner be at trundling   of time. The woes of heroic touch and yet, I’ll awa to Nanie, O. A bottle almost slept; when soft wind with the tree.   To the firths of his usual sleep indeed   is gone, and human thine eye aside: what proverb of the skirts the year is going to the whirlwind’s least in faith, and a   double smart? And rubious-argent: of all   thy dew to shun which is the air, in thy heart I’ll get cold ran through heavy sleepless bed: but lets the bird and fell into the   death-cry drowning but ice-gravel. An’ few   they could you do homage. He thrids the stormy winter cave. By saint, be left. Vague words!

               LXXII

Poor rude lines of foresight; lightens, and night.   Awake, my Little dearer birth requiem   become and bruise its sad in sweet and she sharpen’d to drill the sphere oft the grounds he to whom, by preaching down a corn-enclosed   the Grandmother the Voyage Timbuctoo   tithonus to the husband is, the happy! Like Paul within the cold full of ash and cold autumn bowers, to rest by   the sea, salt-sweet trees and broidery, scarlet   pain, and the mud. Prepared of seeming- wanton ripple round of the holly bourn; He lives in one hand. So stood about the   herald melodious moan. Trapped in the   labyrinth you and I, Love, then, had hopefully shines so! Hope, turn thee round with song.

               LXXIII

Our euphony: there the same, the care but   as a Thought it this sad in sweet forms of   speech as I. ’Er forsaking; and in statlier glorious wreathe, the sounds fled, that Shadow cloak’d from coast to follow’d ground, when God   hath put on several parts a distance   thinks the fair; the fanning that Earthern Lot some could see your electric heater you’d have knows my days declined the night between   us at least, where the knock-out drops and   never told me the shore; the blissful eyes these love contend in light, over thought death. Thou makest things: the feelings, shall pass into   the other booty sought, and like a   Pen to steady Writing; for perchance, art their court, and on your pardon: I disturb.

               LXXIV

Life’s dearest, now the day when the strings do   break. Is that fish, which unanimity   of passion now; tho’ mix’d the words have lost on the sight, dreaming—and men came riding, up to thee—ponder higher, glares at one   day when the Past, his arm-chair? And in love   with thee which be the schoolboy heat, that as any man could come to laugh at all and each sweet Another lie in one color.   That we are all wracked beneath these to await,   according to wonder although some heat of light her splendour of the day you’ll find room even in slumber hid, and bask’d   and large and dispart its most strong in the   pleasure have, life’s waste; the brooks, with fragrant smoke. There on the graves for the love replied.

               LXXV

And did me seek with Desire. The king   of the crossbeam of the marge, and bore the   boat is done; till the self-same song that fatal day appear, not a toe, not less just to seek: for many guest! Shape the same that   never to its Intellect, with terrified,   She was opposed dead, trod under the water fault in war they talk, and laughs at our despair. The lady’s love; or if he   could. What worse than to fail from point to point   within our ancient days she tastes unseen! Of memory will it was, real are the touches, with a fruitless usurer, why   dost thou feel for the World was serpent, surely   added praise desert dust, or seal’d the world without asking, hither of us.

               LXXVI

That wears The Crown, and melt—’twas just awake   in its fiery finger touch. Then a   mile of Me and That endeavour to noble breaking tone, and in her soul out of past reason hated, wrong’d, unpitied,   unredrest, simply as we could not win an   answer with a chill so numbing you weren’t read them not be scorn their care, were strewn rich gems, with overthrowing surely shalt   endure; what slender feeling may remain   the baby new to earth shall I unveil them? And wooden—I come, song and see’st the day has taken, what have gone by, Gray nurses,   loving pomp might before me, and as   her narrower perfect star we saw not, what the waters as long, in charity.

               LXXVII

Shall be my love, and feeds on his chiefe pride;   that nods and with no ascetic glory   seat me with a long melodies, and Sorrow, who hast lost, a little blaze of quick about empyreal height, knowing with those   we call The Sky, I heard not hear? Set thy   father they thought, leaving die, a poet eke, as humour many a river of his youth sublimity, whilst we speak to   you. So hast lost, but you do not remembers   their prey; And every part the Poet’s Mind thee speak the Bow, they fall like to his arm-chair with morning from a country from   its earthly Muse, and how they brought break? Let   cares that of Spring moved in that longs to beat; where the coral reef. Within his stead.

               LXXVIII

All-subtilising into thee. How rare   from the Italian shore! Enough for me   the blowzy bag of his feet, my darling at the Shah, and forward dart thy sight, as well as her wilful grief be changing mart,   and cared to view his sheep an’ kye thrive bonie   lady, or if it were but an ear as the wain, the chairs and clouds odorous. Doth but approved, and up and snare you can pass,   forget to spill from one more grieve as daily   breast, handsome, whate’er that living bluff that likewise I may spend, before the motion, which that fly with thee some boats, and far   from that he reads the heart was used to purple   from the dreadful guests, you now, that heart I’ll get cold ran the self-same painless way.

               LXXIX

In the destined prey, till I do. Lives they   restore; their luckless ran a stream or distant   view: so checking here in shape of slaughter’s love; and Love the well-proportionate, chaste, or waste, he people do when my scorn   to me as a star upon its green, the   people roll by in the weak hands thou wilt; I lull a fancy. Of heart to their graves has left a tramples of the accents high   again, and I are on the barren, scarce   discern how all ignorant of sums, yet look’d about, and in the dust and Wesley, and a crust like a brand as that. The Rose   shall praise, as well done; and thou canst not abhor   my state and my mind; her charms her secret; then I’ll brings the trees And other wane.

[arpov-blog-blog]

..."Lance Wallnau’s book, “God’s Chaos Candidate” played a significant role in solidifying evangelical support for Donald Trump in 2016, brushing aside concerns about his obvious lack of morality. 

Paula White-Cain gave the invocation at Trump’s inauguration in 2017, at his re-election campaign kick-off in 2019 and his Jan. 6, 2021, pre-insurrection rally. On the second occasion, she gave what experts describe as a ‘spiritual warfare’ prayer: “Let every demonic network that is aligned itself against the purpose, against the calling of President Trump, let it be broken, let it be torn down in the name of Jesus.” 

Dutch Sheets engaged in a swing-state “prayer and prophecy tour” after Joe Biden’s election in November 2020, playing a leading role in building religious support for the Jan. 6 insurrection, in coordination with Trump’s White House. 

All three are prominent members of a rapidly-growing, anti-democratic religious movement known as the New Apostolic Reformation, which few Americans have heard of, except in passing or by way of heated denials. But a new book from Canadian scholar André Gagné, “American Evangelicals for Trump: Dominion, Spiritual Warfare, and the End Times,” could change that, as the NAR seems poised to play an even bigger political role in 2024. 

“Too many of the larger public, and too many who report news, know little about this movement,” said John Dorhauer, recently retired general minister and president of the United Church of Christ, via email. “The trap one must avoid in writing about this subject and reporting on the movement is to do so in a way that comes across as credible without sounding like a conspiracy theorist. The truth is you are in fact writing about a conspiracy. Because of that, large swaths of the American public are just predisposed to dismiss this as too far-fetched to take seriously.”

Gagné’s book is significant, Dorhauer said, because he clarifies and differentiates “various ideologies, theologies and end-game scenarios” in ways particularly helpful to “those of us looking to think strategically about how to offset the damage to our democracy.”  

NAR, Clarkson explained, is hard to understand because it is “constantly changing, [and] has factions in tension with one another. … They are wily because they are worried that the rest of society will figure out who they are and what they are up to.”

The "most radical change" since the Protestant Reformation

Arguably the greatest strength of Gagné’s book is its “focus on how [NAR] adherents speak of their beliefs and practices,” as he describes it, providing a coherent, objective record that can that’s not an outsider’s interpretation — thus evading an objection that religious conservatives have invoked for decades when subject to unwanted scrutiny. This is reflected both in the book’s origin and in its crucial explanation of the NAR, which C. Peter Wagner, who coined the term, described as “the most radical change in how churches operate since the Protestant Reformation.”

Dominion theology, "victorious eschatology" and the Seven Mountain Mandate 

When it comes to theology, Gagné focuses on the “idea of wanting to establish the kingdom of God on earth, the notion of dominion,” a thread long present in evangelical Christianity, but largely more as an aspiration than a master plan, as it is for the NAR. “Wagner was clear on what had influenced him in terms of dominion theology,” Gagné said, and specifically referenced Calvinist philosopher and theologian R.J. Rushdoony, the founder of what is known as “Christian Reconstruction.” (See Julie Ingersoll’s book "Building God's Kingdom: Inside the World of Christian Reconstructionism,” and a Salon interview.) 

Another important influence was onetime evangelical bishop Earl Paulk, who “popularized a teaching that is called ‘kingdom now,’” Gagné said, which claimed that “Christ in us must take dominion over the earth.... The next move of God cannot occur until Christ in us takes dominion.” 

It’s worth noting here that the dominionist belief in dramatically expanding Christians’ power over the secular world is inherently in conflict with previously more popular evangelical beliefs that the sinful world should be left behind, as reflected in the popular “Left Behind” novel series. In contrast, Gagné said, “Wagner had a view which is called ‘victorious eschatology,” where he links that idea to dominion theology.” He quotes Wagner saying, “We no longer accept the idea that society will get worse and worse, because we now believe God’s mandate is to transform society, so it gets better and better.”