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azulashengrottospiano · 9 months

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JXKNFSD HELP I’M READING THE THREAD ABOUT THE IKEVAMP OCS AND CACKLING

Beethoven at Mozart: *treats him with respect* Yes sir, thank you for all your work.

Beethoven at Napoleon: Oh, you arch-ass! You double-barrelled ass! (And yes, this is an actual, genuine quote from the real Beethoven-)

Let me tell you, when it comes to insults, Beethoven does NOT hold back. He comes out SWINGING-

When Napoleon declared himself the Emperor of France, Beethoven was outraged, saying, “So he is no more than a common mortal! Now he, too, will tread underfoot all the rights of man [and] indulge only his ambition; now he will think himself superior to all men [and] become a tyrant!”

Oh, and one more thing about Beethoven and Napoleon! Apparently, Beethoven’s younger brother, Nikolaus Johann van Beethoven, was involved with him. His brother wished to be called Johann instead of Nikolaus, which Ludwig didn’t like; he hated his father, who was an alcoholic and pushed responsibility of taking care of the family on him when he was only 16. In 1808, Johann opened a medical pharmacy in Linz, Upper Austria. When Napoleon invaded Austria in 1809 and established a base camp in Linz for wounded soldiers, Johann actually supported the French by giving them medical supplies. Helping the enemy made him a hated citizen in his hometown, but because of his support, the French gave him money and this made him rich.

When Johann bought an estate in Gneixendorf in 1819, he signed a letter to Ludwig “From your brother Johann, landowner.” Ludwig signed his reply, “From your brother Ludwig, brain owner.”

Some personal impressions about Johann were actually written down in other sources! Gerhard von Breuning said that Johann “bore no resemblance whatever to his brother Ludwig.” Another person, Count Moritz Lichnowsky said of Johann during a conversation with Ludwig, “Everyone makes a fool of him; we call him simply 'The Chevalier'. — Everybody says his only merit is that he bears your name."

And of course, I am back at it again with quotes,, all of these are from Beethoven- 🚶 I love quotes from historical figures, and I am going to pester you with them. This is a threat 🫵 /lh

Beethoven: “Anyone who tells a lie has not pure heart, and cannot make good soup.”

Beethoven, speaking to royalty: “What you are, you are by accident of birth; what I am, I am by myself. There are and will be a thousand princes; there is only one Beethoven.”

Beethoven: “Even in poverty I lived like a king for I tell you that nobility is the thing that makes a king.”

Beethoven: “I like honesty and sincerity, and I maintain that an artist should not be shabbily treated.”

Beethoven: “I shall seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me.”

Beethoven: “How glad I am to be able to roam in the wood and thicket, among trees and flowers and rocks ... in the country, every tree seems to speak to me, saying, ‘Holy! Holy’, in the woods, there is enchantment which expresses all things.”

An extract from a letter from Beethoven: “The true artist is not proud, he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal; and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun. I would, perhaps, rather come to you and your people, than to many rich folk who display inward poverty.”

Beethoven: “The world is a king, and like a king, desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is selfish and perverse — it will not submit to the mold of flattery.”

Beethoven: “It is my wish that you may have at better and freer life than I have had. Recommend virtue to your children; it alone, not money, can make them happy. I speak from experience; this was what upheld me in time of misery.”

Beethoven: “I have always reckoned myself among the greatest admirers of Mozart, and shall do so till the day of my death.”

Beethoven considered Mozart to be one of the musical immortals. When an admirer wrote to the young up-and-coming composer and even compared him to the greats, Beethoven replied, "do not rob Handel, Haydn, and Mozart of their laurel wreaths; they have earned theirs, but I am not yet entitled to one."

Also!! I'm so sorry for such a long post!! There was a lot I wanted to say 🤧

Jackdaw Anon 🐦

i feel bad because youre always writing essays in my inbox that i loev reading sm but i can only response with WOWIE and OMG TAHTS SO COOL :C i hope it doesnt bother you ^^

but all that aside, WOW beethoven sounds like a grumpy old man. but liek, the best version of a grumpy old man.

ITS SO NICE THAT HE ADMIRED MOZART SO MUCH :(((

“The true artist is not proud, he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal; and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun. I would, perhaps, rather come to you and your people, than to many rich folk who display inward poverty.”

this hits different when you write fanfic and you feel like your work will never be as pretty and eloquent as other writers wow. beethoven was so real for that omg

ITS OKAY YOUR RAMBLES CAN BE LONG THATS FINE!!! i just have trouble writing long responses so i wont write in euqal length ^^; I PROMISE ILL READ EVERYTHING THOUGH

#plus my hands are like. in constant pain oops #DONT COME FO RME MOOTS YOU KNOW THIS ALREADY #jackdaw anon <3

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super-hero-confessions · 10 months

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Here's something I found pretty interesting. I've seen plenty of Clois/Lark shippers call SuperWonder shippers misogynists or harass them and fic writers.

But I actually haven't seen them going after the SuperBats or Clex shippers even if there is blatant or misogynistic undertones (though to be fair it's pretty hard to compete with Golden and Silver Age Lois if you wanna make her look bad). Which is weird I guess?

I'm sure it's happened. I wouldn't deny the experience of it from someone. But I find it very curious as I've seen similar if not the same rhetoric at the prospect of Superman being with Maxima and other claims the like that if a story focuses on Clark moving on and moving forward, it can only be misogynistic fridging.

But with the catch "only when he moves on to another woman" (never seen this argument against him moving on with a man).

And to that I say... What the fuck? No, seriously what the fuck? The logic makes no sense as it did to begin with. If the problem is Clark "moving on" specifically with women, then he should never "move on" from Lana and never marry Lois. Everything said about accusing those shipping him with women other than Lois after a relationship with Lois can be equally said and applied to shipping him with any woman after Lana if we're to believe any of that crap.

Meaning shipping him anyone other than Lana would be misogyny that devalues Lana and makes Lois and others look bad.

You can't have it both ways. If it's misogyny, it starts after the FIRST girl. Clark's ACTUAL first choice (by virtue of becoming his wife, Lois must be his literal last, final choice, and she is for a time and that's fine). And it should be applied to any ship after the fact, not just the ones with women, whether you fear being called a homophobe or not. Where's this "bravery to defend" Lois with the men at play, huh? Do you have any idea how many fics make Clark cheat on Lois for Bruce?

A lot. It's a lot...

And even then with the arguments made it should be LANA getting the defense, not Lois.

And look, I'm a multishipper, I like all the ships in actual good and nontoxic portrayals of them, but I hate a good deal of shipping discourse and more ridiculous arguments that are used to be against ships and often more specifically against certain female characters.

Maybe the Clois shippers don't bother SuperBats or Clex shippers because the misogyny is more often against either Lana or Diana. And I don't mean fair criticism of the characters, certain portrayals or even making a minor villainess or love rival for story and drama purposes. I mean using the lady as the butt of a joke and making her unreasonably OOC in order to make the men look better and "less misogynistic" by shitting all over this woman.

And this kinda shit isn't exclusive to this part of fandom or fiction in general either but it is all equally stupid and old and especially terrible when you have people being disgusting and egging it on in real life like with the Bieber nonsense. What the fuck people, let them live.

These accusations are frequently without merit and sound a lot more like confessions. No one shipping for fun ties the value of the women in these ships to the men they are with besides the worst of the worst in the shipping and real world. The actual misogynists that love purity culture and think only men and a body count can define how much a woman is worth.

So in essence. Slut shaming.

Ya sound like some goddamn Andrew Tate Fanbois, misogynistic slut shaming and all.

If you like a ship. Fine. If you dislike a ship. Fine. But accusing others of who they are based on FICTION. That makes YOU the asshole, not the other way around.

And more people need to ship Clark Kent with Jimmy Olsen. That right there is the real OTP and who DC shoulda chose from the start. He got saved way more than Lois back in the day, and always cared for and was nice to Clark.

#confession #superman #wonder woman #lois lane #rant

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wisdomfish · 8 months

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• Reality: Jesus taught that hell is a real place where some beings will spend eternity (Matthew 23:33, 25:41; Mark 9:43). In Jesus’ teaching, hell is not figurative or symbolic; it is a real place in which real experiences take place. Jesus portrayed what hell is like with vivid imagery such as fire and darkness (Matthew 5:22; 8:8–12). • Rebellion: According to Jesus, hell is a place for those who reject God, rebelling against His kingship and refusing His grace. Jesus’ parables consistently portray people rejecting God’s invitation to fellowship, and the only alternative to fellowship with God is an eternity in hell (Matthew 22:1–14; Luke 14:15–24). Sin is a form of rebellion against God, and hell is the just punishment for sin (Matthew 5:22). The devil and his minions are the original rebels against God, and they will suffer eternally in hell, which has been prepared for them (Matthew 25:41). • Regret: Jesus does not portray hell as a pleasant place or even a neutral state. To the contrary, it is a place of torment (Mark 9:48). As the dark place outside of God’s kingdom of light, hell is full of pain and regret “There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 13:42; see also Matthew 22:13; 24:51; Luke 13:28). • Relentlessness: Based on Jesus’ teaching, hell is not temporary, but eternal. Those who suffer in hell will suffer forever. “The fire never goes out,” Jesus said (Mark 9:48, NLT; cf. Matthew 25:46). There is no exit from hell, and no respite from it or comfort in it (see Luke 16:19–31). • Reconciliation: Thankfully, there is one way to escape hell before entering. God offers us reconciliation with Him, so that we never have to experience hell. That reconciliation was made possible through the death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ. Jesus, the One who warned us about hell so often, is the One who saves us from hell. Through faith in Christ, anyone can be reconciled to God, apart from personal merit or virtue. Jesus gives the promise, “Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life” (John 5:24).

~ GotQuestions

#hell #regret #nandor the relentless #code realize #rebelliousfamily

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chatonnoir · 2 years

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It’s just very funny (derogatory) to me how fandom will dehumanize you and how people you disagree with will readily victimize themselves when they perceive you to be a “big blog” (whatever arbitrary follower threshold that is)

Someone made a post saying they envy the platform fanartists have while saying carelessly hurtful things about artists who write fanfic, implying that people only supported their fanfic because of their art, that their writing would never be the same “quality” as longtime fanfic writers, etc. People, especially fanartists who write, were naturally upset by the elitism and gatekeeping and general mean-spirited tone of the post and replied with their disagreements. Suddenly that person switches gears and starts talking about their age, even though the “““big blog”““ who replied to them was the same age. Suddenly they’re talking about how they're a “small blog” with only a few hundred followers (as if having over 500 people following you is a small amount). Suddenly they’re talking about how it was just a poorly-thought-out rant post that wasn’t supposed to be seen (as if they didn’t self-reblog it seeking validation and stating that they were “correct”) and basically insinuating that it was morally wrong of the people they’ve decided are “BNFs” to reply in disagreement with that post for those reasons. Suddenly follower counts are being brought up in every response more than the actual content of the arguments themselves, because y’all love to categorize people as just “big blog” or “small blog” and the things we do are interpreted in completely different ways based on which of those two camps you fall in to.

Just .... the irony and the cognitive dissonance in doubling down and insisting that the platform these artists have has given them an unfair advantage because of “advertising power” and saying that they wish they had that platform, while simultaneously not being able to handle the smallest amount of attention that was anything other than praise. Not to mention making a post ABOUT a specific group of people and complaining about how their popularity isn’t fair, and then self-victimizing and acting like its wrong for those very people respond to it....

And somehow it doesn’t occur to these people that if they had the kind of platform that we do that they so covet and make these posts about, they'd get even MORE backlash for making these “poorly-thought-out rant posts” on main??? Not just one but at least a DOZEN hateful anons in their inbox???? Not to mention people acting towards them the way they acted towards us in this situation, basically dehumanizing them and telling them that they can't be upset and respond to someone else's ignorant/hurtful post even if it was clearly about them/their friends/people like them because they’re a """BNF"""" and the person they’re upset with is a """"small blog uwu"""" who they’re """dogpiling""" on. You don’t GET to have a bad day and make a poorly-thought-out mean-spirited rant post and get away scot-free when you’re a ~BNF~. If you can’t handle being watched and scrutinized by thousands of people and getting even the smallest bit of negative attention for a post then ... no, you DON’T actually want our “advertising power.” Sorry to tell y’all that having a few thousand followers comes with a cost and is not just a free faceless reblog/kudos/praise farm to feed your ego.

Nevermind the way some of y’all talk like a follower base/reblogs/likes/kudos are things you’re Owed for the “quality” of your work rather than, idk, real individual people who follow creators whose creations and personalities they Personally like? Creators are not Granted followers as payment for their fanworks. Artists did not start out with a Booster Pack of 10000 followers “simply by virtue of being artists” (to quote the fun words from people complaining about this). People follow creators when they want to see more of what they post. Fandom is social, not a competition based on merit and not a business. I know some of y’all seem to think it is based on the uses of “advertising power” and “stats” I’ve been seeing, but this isn’t some pay disparity in a workplace or a competition where someone got a gold trophy and you got a bronze one because they were friends with the judges. Fandom is a community experience of sharing things with other people who you’ve found who like that thing. It’s not some grand injustice that engagement with fanfic doesn’t directly correlate to technical skill because art is so incredibly subjective. It’s entirely based on personal preferences, on what people like, on who people are friends with and who they follow because people are more inclined to read something by someone who they already know and who they know has similar tastes as them, rather than something by a random self-proclaimed “quality” fic writer whom they don’t know just bc they have “””higher quality”””” writing.

“I wish fic writers got more engagement” was just fine on its own without tacking on “it’s not fair that artists get more engagement.” When it turns in to “this person shouldn’t get more attention than me,” it’s jealousy. You can phrase it in any pretty way you want and try to spin it as an injustice but what y’all are really doing is dressing up jealousy towards artists as a hot take, comparing the engagement of two Completely different art forms, and treating fic engagement and followers as something that artists with a bigger following haven’t “earned” and that you are owed instead

#that BNF shit is still irritating me #'all the blogs that reblogged this are semi-BNFs' as if a point was made with this statement #the funniest part being that the ''''bnf artist''''' who responded was someone who we all followed because we loved her ///////fics///////#and before any geniuses try to discredit my opinions bc i'm a ~bnf artist~ like the op of that post did -#worsties i've BEEN the non-artist fic writer back when i didn't know anything abt digital art #& I've also been the artist who only got a few notes/followers bc I was drawing for dead or dying fandoms and unpopular blorbos <3 #So yes I DO know what it's like to be on the other side #and I sure didn't act like this lol

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odaclan · 2 years

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Tenka Fubu: A just war to end warfare?

There’s many interpretations for Nobunaga’s seal, Tenka Fubu 天下布武. The long-standing interpretation is that it’s a declaration of ambition of conquering the entire nation. Lately there were some that proposed a new idea that “Tenka” in medieval Japan actually only means the provinces surrounding the capital, and thus Nobunaga actually already achieved his goal.

Tenka 天下, literally translating to “under heaven”, is often used as a euphemism meaning “nation”. In medieval Japan, this was used to refer to “the seat of authority”, thus the 5 provinces around the capital, as that is where the traditional central authority is located in.

No matter what “Tenka” means, it’s his motivation that was always somewhat unclear. In the tyrannical interpretation, it was a power-hungry declaration. Some people even thought he might’ve wanted to eventually topple the emperor. When people ascribe a kind interpretation of it, typically it would be that it was for the sake of ending the warring states and achieve peace.

That latter one is what I want to discuss. I previously wrote a short post about this already, but I wanted to elaborate a bit more. This is an interpretation based on the idea that “Fubu” means to “spread (布) martiality/military might (武)”

潘党曰:‘臣闻克敌必示子孙,以无忘武功. 楚子曰:‘非尔所知也.夫文,止戈为武.

Said Pan Dang: “I heard that when conquering enemies, it must be made known to one’s descendants, so as to always remember what military merits are.”

Said the Lord of Chu: “It is not what you thought it was. What the word means, to stop (止) warfare (戈) is what makes a warrior (武)”

(From the Commentary of Zuo from the Spring and Autumn Annals, in the chapter of Duke Xuan.)

It’s a philosophical ideal based on how the word 武 is itself indeed composed of the radicals 止 and 戈. The word 戈 literally means a dagger-axe, but is sometimes used as euphemism for violence or war.

This was actually also mentioned in the article I referred to in my older post, but I opted to focus on the “seven virtues” more. The seven virtues I mentioned in the old post, as well as this philosophy on war, suggest that “fighting to end wars” is exactly the kind of meaning that Nobunaga intended for the 武 in Tenka Fubu to mean.

Nobunaga was advised about this by Takugen Sou’on 沢彦宗恩, the same person who advised him about the name “Gifu”, which was similarly also based on names found in Chinese classics. Interestingly enough, the story claims that what Takugen originally wrote was 布武天下 (Fubu Tenka), but somehow Nobunaga ended up with “Tenka Fubu” on his seal.

#tenka fubu #oda nobunaga #takugen sou'on #takugen souon

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dwellordream · 2 years

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“The Industrial Revolution created a dilemma for many Europeans who continued to remain obliged to the influences of a pious Protestantism founded on a high valuation of asceticism. Increased prosperity required justification for the use of products not previously considered essential. Such justification was especially needed for the consumption of ornamental products. Ministering to personal pleasure required some rational justification of pleasurable consumption if Protestant’s high valuation of deep piety was not to be embarrassingly debunked. Victorians were faced with the need to decide what role should be played by desire and emotion in the new society.

Ironically, however, the ideologies of ascetic Protestantism had already helped create the conditions necessary for the acceptance of hedonism long before the Victorians were faced with their dilemma. Weber’s focus on ‘asceticism’ as the foundation of capitalism underplays the later role played by personal imagination in the creation of sensuous consumption. Protestantism had in some measure already sanctioned individualism when Protestant theologians had consigned to the individual the singularly personal act of moral self-evaluation; the elimination of the priest as an intermediary (and witness of the inner conscience of the individual) had the effect of separating the world of action (governed by communal standards and judgments) and the world of personal conscience (a realm considerably open to a person’s sentimental and imaginative intervention).

Although Protestant theologians specified that there should be no contradictions between the world of action and the realm of personal sentiment, there did develop a heightened private relationship between a person and his inner sentimental self. A further justification for sentiment appeared during the eighteenth century when a ‘cult of sensibility’ mounted a considerable resistance towards the aesthetic barrenness of the governance of reason and the emotional stoicism of an aristocracy considered patently arrogant and corrupt. Sentimentality allowed a person to provide others with outward indications of the benevolence, sincerity, and compassion of his inner self despite the emotional limitations of a social dialogue based on reason and social propriety.

Anthony Ashley Cooper, Third Earl of Shaftesbury ([1714] 1964), rationalized the virtue and aesthetics of sentiments in An Inquiry Concerning Virtue and Merit: Of this even the wickedest Creature living must have a Sense. So that if there be any further meaning in this Sense of Right and Wrong; if in reality there be any Sense of this kind ... it must consist in real Antipathy or Aversion to Injustice or Wrong, and in a real Affection or Love towards Equity and Right, for its own sake, and on the account of its own natural Beauty and Worth. (42) Shaftesbury’s vindication of human goodness (and the ability to experience it as a sensory or emotional reality) stood in stark contrast to Bernard de Mandeville’s amoral rationalization of a free-market economy in which both vice and virtue led to economic benefits.

Shaftesbury’s attack on utilitarianism struck a cord in the rising middle classes. While he did not attack mercantilism, he reassured that benevolence would limit its excesses. A potent argument in favour of an innate sense of right and wrong had also been made by Adam Smith ([1759] 1982) in The Theory of the Moral Sentiments. Moral goodness had previously been rationalized in one of two ways: as a rule to be legislated or as a value that could be argued through reasonable dialogue. Neither argument took into account the possibility of an innate human moral sense. Smith, however, argued that people were born with this moral sense. Just as they possessed a natural preference for beauty and harmony, so did they sense right from wrong.

Their conscience, a faculty that went beyond the law and rational argument, informed them of the morality of their actions. And sympathy (the recognition that different persons shared a natural fellowship of sentiment) motivated humans to seek order and cooperation. Shaftesbury’s and Smith’s works had a profound (and lasting) influence on intellectual and artistic thought in England. Poets were enlisted to sing the praises of the ultimate benevolence of human nature. Sir William Jones, a member of Dr Johnson’s Literary Club, concurred with Shaftesbury’s optimistic faith in human goodness. In an essay entitled ‘On the Arts Commonly Called Imitative’ (1772), Jones called for a poetic tradition that would not content itself on imitating manners but be passionately evocative.

The underlying belief of these calls for sensibility was the certainty that the heart contained its own rational moral principles and that a return to feeling would assure the expression of innate goodness (Mullan 1988). Such abiding faith in the ennobling effects of sentiments, even the melancholic kinds, moved the anonymous writer of a 1755 essay – aptly entitled ‘Moral Weeping’ – to state:

Moral weeping is the sign of so noble a passion, that it may be questioned whether those are properly men, who never weep upon any occasion. They may pretend to be as heroical as they please, and pride themselves in a stoical insensibility; but this will never pass for virtue with the true judges of human nature. What can be more noble human than to have a tender sentimental feeling of our own and other’s [sic] misfortunes? This degree of sensibility every man ought to wish to have for his own sake, as it disposes him to, and renders him more capable of practising [sic] all the virtues that promote his own welfare and own happiness.

Widely popular when it first appeared, Henry Mackenzie’s ([1771] 1967) A Man of Feeling became the leading text of the new cult of sentimentality. Mackenzie merged sentiment and sensibility, considering them mutually reinforcing virtues. In his story, the hero, Harley, is made to suffer a series of episodes in which he remains benevolent despite the uncaring reactions of others. He helps the disadvantaged, suffers the pain of lost love, and, although he does not succeed according to worldly measures of success, he manages to remain of good heart. Mackenzie asked a profound question in his work: is unbending benevolence the mark of a virtuous man or simply the behaviour of a fool? What are to be the limits of disinterested altruistic behaviour?

If Harley was indeed not a fool, then what was to be said about those who remained unresponsive to him? Was their preoccupation with their own interests to be judged as immoral? Were they to be held accountable for not responding to Harley with a warmness of heart equal to his own? Undoubtedly, readers of varying persuasions reached those conclusions that best suited their dispositions. The call for sensibility should not predispose us to conclude that a major revolution in feeling occurred in the eighteenth century. Sentimentalism did not require self-affirmative, confrontational emotionalism.

Although some writers worried about the increasing attention paid to sentimental friendships, and wondered whether this would decrease parental influence and the unity of the family, no major intergenerational conflict occurred. The distinction between sentiments and primary emotions is an important one if we are to understand why the Victorians ended up mistrusting strong displays of emotion while maintaining a considerable respect for compassion. A sensible person had access to some of his senses if not his primal emotional repertoire. He was able and willing to shed tears and show mortification when confronted with the plight of other individuals and the discomforting aspects of a rapidly changing world.

Certainly, sentimentalism did begin reversing a process of emotional restraint that had been centuries in the making. And the cult of sensibility was supported by many mainstream writers known for their impetuous personalities (Jones 1993, Brissenden 1974). But, by and large, it did not cause an emotional uprising of the magnitude witnessed in the mid-twentieth century. Sentimentality did not successfully bridge the boundary between social rituals and a sincere benevolent morality because it remained trapped in its own web of exaggeration and artifice. In retrospect, the Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics defines sentimentality as the presence of exaggerated emotion in a situation that does not warrant such a show of sentiment (Preminger 1974).

Being a dramatized show of feeling, sensibility could not successfully provide a guarantee of sustained communal solidarity. The fact that the sentimental person was ‘demonstrating’ his sensibility (as opposed to expressing an uncontrollable primary emotion) rendered the act suspect or, at least, tinged with self-love. Eleanor Sickels (1969) similarly observes, in The Gloomy Egoist: Moods and Themes of Melancholy from Gray to Keats, that sentimentality often involved indulging in emotions for their own sake (195). Many even experienced a distinct pleasure in feeling melancholic, for their melancholy confirmed to them that they were of a gentle and innocent disposition and, consequently, unsuited to the brutal utilitarianism of an uncaring world.

Regardless of its potential egoism, many in the eighteenth century came to consider sentimentality as a mark of sincerity. A person of natural sentimentality was considered honourable and emotionally responsive to the predicaments of others. As for those given to being sentimental, they rationalized their lack of stoicism as a moral resistance against the utilitarianism of reason and the amoralism of the old stoic aristocracy (Bredvold 1962). Ironically, the justification of emotional exhibitionism as a moral quality established a credible link between Protestant ideology and the new cult of feeling. Although there was ‘pleasure in pity,’ pity itself was a moral act that was completely in keeping with the Protestant requirement of compassion (Aldridge 1949:139).

And, although sentimentalists questioned the highly rational outcomes of Protestantism, their search for purity betrayed a particularly Protestant disposition towards idealism. It is difficult for us living in a culture in which a sudden outburst of tears (especially in public) is considered a sign of ‘unresolved emotional issues’ to imagine that members of parliament in the eighteenth century were given to openly weeping to demonstrate their sincerity, especially when a favoured bill was defeated by the opposition.

The cult of sensibility accorded moral approval to people who allowed themselves to ‘indulge in all the virtuousness of sorrow’ and even ‘a pleasing kind of distress’ (Sickels 1969:103) because the alternative, emotional stoicism, became considered a sign of heartlessness. The open display of sentiments was some proof that the feeling capacities of the gentle classes had survived after centuries of restraints and controls imposed by political and ideological change, the last and least favoured of these being the rising influence of the industrialists and scientists.”

- Benet Davetian, “England and the Victorian Ethic.” in Civilty: A Cultural History

#victorian #romantic era #history #benet davetian #civility: a cultural history #english #religion #christian

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focr · 1 year

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Five R’s of Hell

• Rebellion: According to Jesus, hell is a place for those who reject God, rebelling against His kingship and refusing His grace. Jesus’ parables consistently portray people rejecting God’s invitation to fellowship, and the only alternative to fellowship with God is an eternity in hell (Matthew 22:1–14; Luke 14:15–24). Sin is a form of rebellion against God, and hell is the just punishment for sin (Matthew 5:22). The devil and his minions are the original rebels against God, and they will suffer eternally in hell, which has been prepared for them (Matthew 25:41).

• Regret: Jesus does not portray hell as a pleasant place or even a neutral state. To the contrary, it is a place of torment (Mark 9:48). As the dark place outside of God’s kingdom of light, hell is full of pain and regret “There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 13:42; see also Matthew 22:13; 24:51; Luke 13:28).

• Relentlessness: Based on Jesus’ teaching, hell is not temporary, but eternal. Those who suffer in hell will suffer forever. “The fire never goes out,” Jesus said (Mark 9:48, NLT; cf. Matthew 25:46). There is no exit from hell, and no respite from it or comfort in it (see Luke 16:19–31).

• Reconciliation: Thankfully, there is one way to escape hell before entering. God offers us reconciliation with Him, so that we never have to experience hell. That reconciliation was made possible through the death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ. Jesus, the One who warned us about hell so often, is the One who saves us from hell. Through faith in Christ, anyone can be reconciled to God, apart from personal merit or virtue. Jesus gives the promise, “Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life” (John 5:24).

~ GotQuestions

#focr #focr 42 #austin 3:16 #gotquestions.com #commentary

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a-god-in-ruins-rises · 3 years

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#i've posted a lot of stuff lately #regarding our founding fathers and their idea of government's role #so i just wanted to take a minute and consolidate it all in one post #this obviously isn't everything regarding the subject #this is just the stuff i've posted in the last few days #because there's been a lot #but the above affirms our founders' intention to create a strong central government #with an effective and energetic executive #it also affirms their disdain for both monarchy and democracy #and hereditary aristocracy as well #but their support for a more classical sense of aristocracy #which is made of people based on merit and virtue #it also explicitly shows our founders' intention of using the government to regulate commerce #so you know libertarians are just fake americans #but it also shows our founders were not only aware of the great wealth inequality #but that they thought it was bad and harmful to society and that it must be mitigated

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 7

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - This Venerable One Likes Wontons

The scorching sun was blazing.

The veranda of Life-Death Peak stretched for mile.

As a rising star among immortal cultivators, it was quite different from the other famous clans of the immortal world.

Take the most prosperous Rufeng Sect of Linyi. The main hall of the sect was called the "Six Virtues Hall", which intended to encourage disciples to be "wise, faithful, holy, righteous, benevolent, and loyal" in accordance with the six virtues. The area where the disciples live was called the "Six Behaviours Gate", which warns the disciples to practice "filial piety, friendship, harmony, marriage, responsibility, and compassion." The place where classes were taught was called "Six Arts Platform", which meant that disciples needed to be proficient in the six skills of "ritual, music, archery, riding, calligraphy, and mathematics".

All in all, its elegance was endless.

On the other hand, Life-Death Peak came from a poor background. Its names were hard to explain. "Danxin Hall" and "Platform of Righteousness and Evil" were alright. Perhaps it was because Mo Ran's father and his uncle weren't scholars and couldn't determine any better names. After a while, the names started to get more nonsensical, naming things "Xue Ya" -sounding names left and right.

Therefore, there are many plagiarised names from the underworld on Life-Death Peak. For example, the room where disciples practiced self-reflection was called Yanluo Hall.

The jade bridge connecting the resting area and the teaching area was called Naihe Bridge. The dining hall was called Mengpo Hall, the martial arts field was called Mountain of Daggers and Sea of Flames. The forbidden area of the back of the mountain is called the Ghost Room, and so on.

These weren't too bad, but there were other places simply called "This is a mountain", "This is water", "This is a pit", as well as the famous "Ahhhhh" and "Wahhhhhh" cliffs.

The elders’ dormitories naturally did not escape, and each has their own nickname.

Chu Wanning was naturally no exception. He liked peace and didn't want to live near others. His residence was built on the South Peak of Life-Death Peak, hidden in a sea of bamboo. There was a pool in front of the main hall, and the pool was red from lotus petals blocking the sunlight from reflecting off it. Because of its abundance of spiritual power, the lotus flowers were in full bloom all year round in the pool, like red clouds.

The disciples secretly called this beautiful place--

Red Lotus Hell.

When Mo Ran thought of this, he couldn't help but laugh.

Chu Wanning wore a terrifying face every single day, and the disciples who saw him thought he was the devil himself. Therefore, shouldn't the place where the devil stays be called hell?

Xue Meng interrupted his daydream: "You laugh even though you were scolded! Hurry up and eat breakfast. After eating, follow me to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil. Shizun will punish you in public today!"

Mo Ran sighed, and touched the whip mark on his face: "Hss. . . ow."

"You deserved it!"

"Hah, I wonder if Tianwen has been repaired. I hope he doesn't try it out on me again before it's fixed. Who knows what nonsense I might say."

In the face of Mo Ran's sincere concerns, Xue Meng's face flushed, and he angrily said: "If you dare to speak out indecently in public against Shizun, I'll rip your tongue out!"

Mo Ran covered his face and waved his hand faintly: "No need, no need, if Shizun ties me with willow vine again, I will end myself on the spot to prove my innocence."

When the hour came, Mo Ran was brought to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil according to customs. He looked around, and there was a deep blue sea of people below. The disciples of Life-Death Peak all wore the sect uniform; blue so dark it was almost black armour, the lion's head belt, wrist guards and the silver threads gleaming on the hems of robes.

The rising sun, below the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, the sea of armour shone.

Mo Ran kneeled on the raised platform, listening to a chief elder list off a long list of the crimes he'd committed.

"Mo Weiyu, disciple of Elder Yuheng, arrogantly disregarded teachings, disobeyed the rules of the sect, and abandoned morality. You have violated the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth mandates of this sect. As punishment, you will receive 80 strikes, copy the sect rules a hundred times and reflect in solitude for a full month. Mo Weiyu, is there anything you have to say in your defense?"

Mo Ran glanced at the white figure in the distance.

That elder was the only member of Life-Death Peak who wasn't required to wear the standard blue and silver rim robe.

Chu Wanning's robe was made of snow-white satin, an outer robe made of cloud-patterned silver silk, like he was dressed in a heavenly frost, but the person wearing it seemed far more frigid than either snow or frost. He sat quietly, far enough away that Mo Ran couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew that this person was probably completely unphased.

Mo Ran let out a deep sigh: "I have nothing to argue."

According to customary practice, the chief elder asked the disciples below: "If anyone is dissatisfied with the verdict, or has something else to say, this is the time to make such a statement."

All the disciples began to hesitate and averted their gaze.

None of them expected that the Yuheng Elder Chu Wanning would actually send his disciple to be punished publicly on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil.

To put it nicely, this person was impartial, but to word it differently, was also called a cold-blooded demon.

The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning faintly propped his chin and sat in the position. Suddenly someone shouted with amplifying technique: "Elder Yuheng, this disciple is willing to plead for leniency on behalf of Young Master Mo."

". . . Plead?"

This disciple obviously felt that since Mo Ran was the nephew of Life-Death Peak's lord, even if he had screwed up this time, his future prospects would still be bright, so he decided to take the opportunity to win Mo Ran's favour. He began to talk nonsense: "Although Junior Brother Mo is at fault, he loves his fellow students and helps the weak. Please treat consider being lenient for the sake of his kind nature!"

Obviously, he was not the only one hoping to please Junior Brother Mo.

Gradually, more and more people spoke up for Mo Ran. They threw out all sorts of arguments, it made even Mo Ran embarrassed to hear; when had he ever had "an innocent heart, pure and open-minded"? This was a disciplinary meeting, not a commendation meeting, right?

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me exterminate demons and killed deadly beasts. I would like to beg on Junior Brother Mo's behalf. His merits will offset his demerits, and I hope that Elder will lighten his punishment!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dispel my demons when I experience qi deviation. I believe Junior Brother Mo made a mistake this time and was only momentarily confused. I also ask Elder to please be lenient on Junior Brother!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once gave me an elixir to save my mother. He is a benevolent person. Please, Elder, punish him lightly!"

The last person’s remarks were based on the previous disciples', and he was at a loss for words. Seeing Chu Wanning's frozen eyes sweep over, the anxious disciple didn't hesitate to say: “Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dual cultivate--”

"Pff." Someone couldn't help laughing.

The disciple immediately blushed and retreated.

"Yuheng, calm your anger, calm your anger..." Seeing that the chief elder was not happy, he went to his side and hurriedly persuaded him.

Chu Wanning said coldly: "I have never seen such a shameless person. What is his name? Whose disciple?"

The chief elder hesitated a little, then bit the bullet and said softly, "My disciple, Yao Lian."

Chu Wanning raised his eyebrows: "Your disciple? Save face*?"

(Pronounced the same as Yao Lian's name)

The chief elder couldn't help but feel embarrassed, and his old face tried to change the subject with a red face: "He's talented at singing, and he can be useful when he receives the offerings."

Chu Wanning scoffed and turned away, not wanting to waste time talking nonsense with this shameless chief elder.

There were thousands of people on Life-Death Peak. A couple flatterers were nothing surprising.

Seeing the conviction in the faces of his sect brothers, Mo Ran himself almost trusted their words. Very impressive indeed. It turns out he wasn't the only person in this sect that knew how to concoct wild stories in broad daylight. There were many talented people here.

Chu Wanning, who had heard "Elder Yuheng, please be merciful" countless times, finally spoke to the disciples.

"Pleading for Mo Weiyu?" He paused and said, "Yes, all of you may come up."

Those people didn't know what would happen and went up tremblingly.

A golden light flashed in Chu Wanning's palm. Tianwen appeared as commanded, and wrapped around the dozens of people together with a whistle, and tied them firmly in place.

Not again!!

Mo Ran was beginning to get desperate. Just the sight of Tianwen made his legs weak. He really didn’t know where Chu Wanning got such a perverted weapon. It was a good thing he had never taken a wife in his previous life. The poor girl who would marry him, if she didn't get whipped to death, she would be questioned to death.

Chu Wanning's eyes were quite mocking. He asked one of them: "Mo Ran helped you ward off evil spirits?"

How could the disciple resist the torture of TIanwen? He immediately howled: "No! No!"

He asked another one: "Mo Ran helped you overcome your qi deviation?"

"Ah! Never! Never!"

"Mo Ran gave you an elixir?"

"Ah—! Help! No, no! I made it up! I made it up!"

Chu Wanning loosened the hold, but then raised his hand and waved the weapon fiercely, it crackling and blazing, Tianwen suddenly lashed out and hit the backs of the lying disciples.

There were screams instantly, blood splashing.

Chu Wanning's eyebrows furrowed, and he scolded: "What are you calling? Kneel down! Disciple attendant!"

"Here."

"Deliver the punishment!"

"Understood!"

As a result, instead of reaping the benefits of defending Mo Ran, each of them was beaten with ten strikes each for violating the mandate of deception, plus a bonus willow vine lash gifted by Elder Yuheng.

After nightfall, Mo Ran lay on his bed. Although he had been given medicine, his back was covered with staggered scars. He couldn't even turn himself over without almost crying from the pain. He sniffled.

He had been born, so whimpering like this made him look like a fluffy, abandoned kitten. But it was a pity that his thoughts didn't match that cute kitten image.

He gripped the bedding and bit into the sheets, imagining that this was that bastard Chu Wanning. He bit! Kicked! Stomped! Tore!

The only comfort is that Shi Mei came to visit him with a bowl of wontons. He stared at him with those gentle and pitiful eyes, and Mo Ran's tears fell even more fiercely.

He didn't care whether men were supposed to hold in their tears or not, he loved to act spoiled in front of the person he liked.

"Does it still hurt a lot? Can you sit up?" Shi Mei sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Shizun, he. . . he was too cruel. Look at your back. . . there are several wounds. Some are still bleeding."

Mo Ran's heart softened, a warmth gradually rose in his chest. His teary eyes lifted from the bedding and he blinked.

"Since Shi Mei cares about me so much, I, I'm not in too much pain anymore."

"Oh, how can it not hurt if you look like this? You know what Shizun's temperament is like, will you dare do something like this in the future?"

In the candlelight, Shi Mei looked at him a little helplessly and a little distressedly. The amorous eyes were gleaming, like warm spring water.

Mo Ran's heart moved slightly, and he cleverly said: "Never again. I swear.

"Does anyone believe your promises anymore?" Even though he said that, Shi Mei also smiled, "The wontons are getting cold, can you sit up? If you can't get up, just lie on your stomach and I will feed you."

Mo Ran had already climbed up halfway, but immediately collapsed back down when he heard this.

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Whether it was this life or his previous one, Mo Ran's favourite food was Shi Mei's handmade wontons. The dough was as thin as a cloud of smoke, and the filling was tender and moist, melting in his mouth after every bite.

Especially the soup, the milky consistency, sprinkled with green onions, tender yellow egg wisps, and topped with a spoonful of spicy chilli peppers fried with garlic. It made whoever ate it feel so warm that they would never be cold again.

Shi Mei carefully spoonfed him. While feeding him, he said: "I didn't put any chilli oil today. You're badly hurt. Spice isn't good for recovery. Just drink the broth instead."

Mo Ran stared at him and he couldn't look away. He smiled: "Spicy or not, as long as you made it, it's delicious."

"Smooth talker." Shi Mei also smiled, picking up a poached egg lying in the soup, "Here's your reward, I know you like them."

Mo Ran laughed, a small tuft of hair curling on his forehead, like a flower blooming: "Shi Mei."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name."

". . ."

The hair tuft swayed back and forth.

"Shi Mei."

Shi Mei held back a smile: "Just felt like it again?"

"Hmm, just saying your name makes me happy."

Shi Mei sat silently for a moment then gently touched his forehead: "Silly boy, do you have a fever?"

Mo Ran let out a laugh. He rolled over, looking at him sideways, his eyes bright, as if full of fine stars.

"It would be a dream if I could eat Shi Mei's wontons every day"

He truly meant it.

After Shi Mei died, Mo Ran had always wanted to try the wontons he made again, but it is what it is, and he wasn't coming back.

At that time, Chu Wanning hadn't completely broken off all relations with him. Whether it was out of guilt or something else, he didn't know, but when he saw Mo Ran knelt in front of Shi Mei's coffin in a daze, Chu Wanning went quietly to the kitchen, kneaded dough and minced the fillings, carefully folded a couple wontons. But Mo Ran saw what he was doing before he had finished. With the loss of the love of his life, Mo Ran just couldn't bear it. He felt like Chu Wanning was doing it to mock him, a botched attempt at imitating them, a deliberate insult to injury.

Shi Mei was dead. Chu Wanning could have saved him, but he refused to help. Afterwards, he wanted to replace Shi Mei and make wontons for Mo Ran instead? Did he think that this would make him happy?

He rushed into the kitchen and knocked over all the utensils. The round wontons fell out of his hands and all over the floor.

He screamed at Chu Wanning: "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of replacing him? Of making the food he used to? Shi Mei is dead, are you satisfied? Or do you have to torture your disciples until they go mad or die before you're happy? Chu Wanning! No one in this world can make those wontons anymore. You can try but you'll never be him!"

Now he was eating this bowl with such deep joy. He slowly ate them, savouring them. Although he was still smiling, his eyes were a little moist. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim, and Shi Mei couldn't see his subtle expression clearly.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shi Mei froze for a moment, and then smiled gently: "Isn't it just a bowl of wontons? No need to be so formal about it. If you like them, I will always make them for you in the future."

Mo Ran wanted to say, the thanks wasn't just for the wontons.

Thank you also, whether in the last life or in this life, for being the only one to look out for me, not caring about my origins, didn't care about the fourteen years I spent scavenging around.

Thank you, because if it weren't for the sudden thought of you, after being reborn, I'm afraid I would not be able to stop myself from killing Rong Jiu. I would've made a big mistake, and walked the same path I had before.

Fortunately, in this life, I was reborn before you die. I will definitely take good care of you. If you are sick, and that cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning is unwilling to save you, I will.

But how could he have said these words aloud?

In the end, Mo Ran just drank the soup, leaving not even a single green onion behind. He licked his lips unconsciously, his dimples prominent, and he was as cute as a very fluffy little cat.

"Will there be more tomorrow?"

Shi Mei couldn't help but shake his head: "You don't want something else? Won't you get sick of them?"

"I'll never get tired of your wontons, as long as you don't get tired of making them."

Shi Mei shook his head and smiled: "I don't know if there's enough flour left. If there's not enough, I'm afraid I can't make it. If I can't, do you think the eggs in sweet soup are alright instead? They are also one of your favourites."

"Okay, okay. As long as you make it, anything is okay."

Mo Ran's heart surged. He was so happy he could roll around in the blankets.

Look at caring Shi Mei is, Chu Wanning, you go screw yourself! I get to lie in bed with a beauty taking care of me, hehe!

Thinking of Shizun, a rush of anger mixed with the tenderness he had been feeling.

Mo Ran started to dig the bottom of the headboard with resentment again. He cursed, what Yuheng of the Night Sky, what the Beidou Immortal, it's all fucking bullshit!

Chu Wanning, just wait and see!!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese novel #chinese bl #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #2ha #2ha translation #ranwan #hyx

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radical-revolution · 3 years

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In Tibetan, "authentic presence" is wangthang, which literally means a "field of power." However, since this term refers to a human quality, we have loosely translated it here as "authentic presence." The basic idea of authentic presence is that, because you achieve some merit or virtue, therefore that virtue begins to be reflected in your being, your presence. So authentic presence is based on cause and effect. The cause of authentic presence is the merit you accumulate, and the effect is the authentic presence itself.

There is an outer or ordinary sense of authentic presence that anyone can experience. If a person is modest and decent and exertive, then he will begin to manifest some sense of good and wholesome being to those around him. The inner meaning of authentic presence, however, is connected more specifically to the path of Shambhala warriorship. Inner authentic presence comes, not just from being a decent, good person in the ordinary sense, but it is connected to the realization of primordial space, or egolessness. The cause or the virtue that brings inner authentic presence is emptying out and letting go. You have to be without clinging. Inner authentic presence comes from exchanging yourself with others, from being able to regard other people as yourself, generously and without fixation. So the inner merit that brings inner authentic presence is the experience of nonfixed mind, mind without fixation.

When you meet a person who has inner authentic presence, you find he has an overwhelming genuineness, which might be somewhat frightening because it is so true and honest and real. You experience a sense of command radiating from the person of inner authentic presence. Although that person might be a garbage collector or a taxi driver, still he or she has an uplifted quality, which magnetizes you and commands your attention. This is not just charisma. The person with inner authentic presence has worked on himself and made a thorough and proper journey. He has earned authentic presence by letting go, and by giving up personal comfort and fixed mind

—Chögyam Trungpa

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years

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Taking your slasher ice skating

Billy Lenz

Based on where he lives, I imagine Billy already knows how to skate

Take him to one of those ultra-Christmasy outdoor setups with the pretty lights and a big tree in the middle

Matching sweaters and hand-holding are required

Feed him an endless amount of candy canes and hot chocolate and watch his sugar-buzzed ass go flying like a wind up toy

Jason Voorhees

Your biggest challenge is going to be getting him to understand that it's just a few inches of ice on a solid floor and you aren't trying to trick him into the middle of a lake

Once you get past that hurdle, big boy is surprisingly graceful

People will make lots of hockey jokes about his mask, which you'll need to explain to him later

He's used to everyone finding him scary, so when you tell him that his mask made people happy, he'll get all shy and blushy

Wants to go again

(Maybe he'll wear a Santa hat over the mask next time)

Ghostface (Billy Loomis and Stu Macher)

Can you skate while your hand is on someone's ass? Billy is gonna find out.

(Related: can you skate while someone's hand is on your ass? You're gonna find out.)

Stu is weirdly, unfairly good at skating.

He'll literally skate circles around you and Billy and skate backwards whenever he passes you just to show off.

Billy shoves him into the barrier at least once (or penalty box, if you're at an indoor rink)

Expect long debates on the relative merits of icicles vs. ice skates as a murder weapon, as well as the feasibility of death by zamboni

Thomas Hewitt

Absolutely will not get on the ice

He is a good Texas boy who prefers to walk on good Texas dirt, thank you very much

He will enjoy watching you, though

Secretly afraid you're going to fall and hurt yourself, but it helps if you smile and wave at him every time you pass

Very enthusiastic about cupping your face and holding your hands to warm up your cheeks and fingers after.

Oh, you didn't ask him to? Too bad, he's doing it anyway.

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

DO NOT

This man already falls on his ass enough when wearing normal shoes on normal ground

And it's a long way down

(I had a mental image of him wiping out face-first and his mask just ricocheting off the ice like GONG and made an unholy noise)

Will 100% murder someone with a ice skate

It's a knife glued to a shoe, did you expect him NOT to?

There's a good chance the ice skate will still be attached to you when he kills someone with it

Bubba Sawyer

Is convinced the skating aid is part of the whole experience and insists on using it, even if it becomes apparent that he doesn't need it

Wears a hat with fluffy pompoms

Orders the biggest hot cocoa they have and gets whipped cream on his nose

He's having the time of his life. It's like going on a walk with you, but even more fun!

Chop Top and Nubbins are having a full-on brawl in the middle of the rink

Bo Sinclair

Absolutely sucks at skating and is really pissed about it

Refuses to use a skate aid even though he really needs it

Takes you down with him every time he falls

Eventually declares that ice skating is fuckin' stupid and also if you tell anyone about this, he'll kill you

(Side note: I think Bo would actually enjoy watching a hockey game. Bundle him up, stick a beer in his hand, and watch the stick bois body slam each other)

Vincent Sinclair

Like Thomas, he enjoys watching you skate from the sidelines

Doesn't want to try it himself because he's afraid he'll fall and break his mask

(He might give it a shot if you sneak into the rink after hours, when it's just the two of you)

He'll make little sculptures of you skating afterwards. Even if you're not that great, the figurines will have the poise and grace of an Olympic figure skater

Lester Sinclair

The best skater of the Sinclair bros by virtue of the fact that he's not afraid to fall or look like a fool

That doesn't mean he's good

My man just goes for it

Literally bouncing off the walls

He's little confused, but he's got the spirit

Wants to race and will not take "no" for an answer

Every child there thinks he's the best thing they've ever seen

Seriously, he has a devoted pack of 7-year-olds mirroring his every move by the end of the day

Bonus: Jonesy

#billy lenz #jason voorhees #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer #leatherface #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 3 years

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George Orwell, Notes on Nationalism

Somewhere or other Byron makes use of the French word longeur, and remarks in passing that though in England we happen not to have the word, we have the thing in considerable profusion. In the same way, there is a habit of mind which is now so widespread that it affects our thinking on nearly every subject, but which has not yet been given a name. As the nearest existing equivalent I have chosen the word ‘nationalism’, but it will be seen in a moment that I am not using it in quite the ordinary sense, if only because the emotion I am speaking about does not always attach itself to what is called a nation – that is, a single race or a geographical area. It can attach itself to a church or a class, or it may work in a merely negative sense, against something or other and without the need for any positive object of loyalty.

By ‘nationalism’ I mean first of all the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects and that whole blocks of millions or tens of millions of people can be confidently labelled ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But secondly – and this is much more important – I mean the habit of identifying oneself with a single nation or other unit, placing it beyond good and evil and recognizing no other duty than that of advancing its interests.

Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. Both words are normally used in so vague a way that any definition is liable to be challenged, but one must draw a distinction between them, since two different and even opposing ideas are involved. By ‘patriotism’ I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. Patriotism is of its nature defensive, both militarily and culturally. Nationalism, on the other hand, is inseparable from the desire for power. The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality. [...]

It does not necessarily mean loyalty to a government or a country, still less to one’s own country, and it is not even strictly necessary that the units in which it deals should actually exist. To name a few obvious examples, Jewry, Islam, Christendom, the Proletariat and the White Race are all of them objects of passionate nationalistic feeling: but their existence can be seriously questioned, and there is no definition of any one of them that would be universally accepted.

It is also worth emphasizing once again that nationalist feeling can be purely negative. There are, for example, Trotskyists who have become simply enemies of the U.S.S.R. without developing a corresponding loyalty to any other unit. When one grasps the implications of this, the nature of what I mean by nationalism becomes a good deal clearer. A nationalist is one who thinks solely, or mainly, in terms of competitive prestige. He may be a positive or a negative nationalist – that is, he may use his mental energy either in boosting or in denigrating – but at any rate his thoughts always turn on victories, defeats, triumphs and humiliations. He sees history, especially contemporary history, as the endless rise and decline of great power units, and every event that happens seems to him a demonstration that his own side is on the up-grade and some hated rival is on the down-grade. But finally, it is important not to confuse nationalism with mere worship of success. The nationalist does not go on the principle of simply ganging up with the strongest side. On the contrary, having picked his side, he persuades himself that it is the strongest, and is able to stick to his belief even when the facts are overwhelmingly against him. Nationalism is power hunger tempered by self-deception. Every nationalist is capable of the most flagrant dishonesty, but he is also – since he is conscious of serving something bigger than himself – unshakeably certain of being in the right.

Now that I have given this lengthy definition, I think it will be admitted that the habit of mind I am talking about is widespread among the English intelligentsia, and more widespread there than among the mass of the people. For those who feel deeply about contemporary politics, certain topics have become so infected by considerations of prestige that a genuinely rational approach to them is almost impossible. [...] And there are whole strings of kindred questions to which you can only get an honest answer from someone who is indifferent to the whole subject involved, and whose opinion on it is probably worthless in any case. Hence, partly, the remarkable failure in our time of political and military prediction. It is curious to reflect that out of all the ‘experts’ of all the schools, there was not a single one who was able to foresee so likely an event as the Russo-German Pact of 1939. And when news of the Pact broke, the most wildly divergent explanations were of it were given, and predictions were made which were falsified almost immediately, being based in nearly every case not on a study of probabilities but on a desire to make the U.S.S.R. seem good or bad, strong or weak.

Political or military commentators, like astrologers, can survive almost any mistake, because their more devoted followers do not look to them for an appraisal of the facts but for the stimulation of nationalistic loyalties. And aesthetic judgements, especially literary judgements, are often corrupted in the same way as political ones. It would be difficult for an Indian nationalist to enjoy reading Kipling or for a Conservative to see merit in Mayakovsky, and there is always a temptation to claim that any book whose tendency one disagrees with must be a bad book from a literary point of view. People of strongly nationalistic outlook often perform this sleight of hand without being conscious of dishonesty. [...]

Obviously there are considerable resemblances between political Catholicism, as exemplified by Chesterton, and Communism. So there are between either of these and for instance Scottish nationalism, Zionism, Antisemitism or Trotskyism. It would be an oversimplification to say that all forms of nationalism are the same, even in their mental atmosphere, but there are certain rules that hold good in all cases. The following are the principal characteristics of nationalist thought:

Obsession. As nearly as possible, no nationalist ever thinks, talks, or writes about anything except the superiority of his own power unit. It is difficult if not impossible for any nationalist to conceal his allegiance. The smallest slur upon his own unit, or any implied praise of a rival organization, fills him with uneasiness which he can only relieve by making some sharp retort. If the chosen unit is an actual country, such as Ireland or India, he will generally claim superiority for it not only in military power and political virtue, but in art, literature, sport, structure of the language, the physical beauty of the inhabitants, and perhaps even in climate, scenery and cooking. He will show great sensitiveness about such things as the correct display of flags, relative size of headlines and the order in which different countries are named. Nomenclature plays a very important part in nationalist thought. Countries which have won their independence or gone through a nationalist revolution usually change their names, and any country or other unit round which strong feelings revolve is likely to have several names, each of them carrying a different implication. The two sides of the Spanish Civil War had between them nine or ten names expressing different degrees of love and hatred. Some of these names (e.g. ‘Patriots’ for Franco-supporters, or ‘Loyalists’ for Government-supporters) were frankly question-begging, and there was no single one of them which the two rival factions could have agreed to use. All nationalists consider it a duty to spread their own language to the detriment of rival languages. [...] Nationalist thought often gives the impression of being tinged by belief in sympathetic magic – a belief which probably comes out in the widespread custom of burning political enemies in effigy, or using pictures of them as targets in shooting galleries.

Instability. The intensity with which they are held does not prevent nationalist loyalties from being transferable. To begin with, as I have pointed out already, they can be and often are fastened upon some foreign country. One quite commonly finds that great national leaders, or the founders of nationalist movements, do not even belong to the country they have glorified. Sometimes they are outright foreigners, or more often they come from peripheral areas where nationality is doubtful. Examples are Stalin, Hitler, Napoleon, de Valera, Disraeli, Poincaré, Beaverbrook. The Pan-German movement was in part the creation of an Englishman, Houston Chamberlain. For the past fifty or a hundred years, transferred nationalism has been a common phenomenon among literary intellectuals. With Lafcadio Hearne the transference was to Japan, with Carlyle and many others of his time to Germany, and in our own age it is usually to Russia. But the peculiarly interesting fact is that re-transference is also possible. A country or other unit which has been worshipped for years may suddenly become detestable, and some other object of affection may take its place with almost no interval. In the first version of H. G. Wells’s Outline of History, and others of his writings about that time, one finds the United States praised almost as extravagantly as Russia is praised by Communists today: yet within a few years this uncritical admiration had turned into hostility. The bigoted Communist who changes in a space of weeks, or even of days, into an equally bigoted Trotskyist is a common spectacle. In continental Europe Fascist movements were largely recruited from among Communists, and the opposite process may well happen within the next few years. What remains constant in the nationalist is his own state of mind: the object of his feelings is changeable, and may be imaginary. But for an intellectual, transference has an important function which I have already mentioned shortly in connection with Chesterton. It makes it possible for him to be much more nationalistic – more vulgar, more silly, more malignant, more dishonest – than he could ever be on behalf of his native country, or any unit of which he had real knowledge. When one sees the slavish or boastful rubbish that is written about Stalin, the Red army, etc. by fairly intelligent and sensitive people, one realizes that this is only possible because some kind of dislocation has taken place. In societies such as ours, it is unusual for anyone describable as an intellectual to feel a very deep attachment to his own country. Public opinion – that is, the section of public opinion of which he as an intellectual is aware – will not allow him to do so. Most of the people surrounding him are sceptical and disaffected, and he may adopt the same attitude from imitativeness or sheer cowardice: in that case he will have abandoned the form of nationalism that lies nearest to hand without getting any closer to a genuinely internationalist outlook. He still feels the need for a Fatherland, and it is natural to look for one somewhere abroad. Having found it, he can wallow unrestrainedly in exactly those emotions from which he believes that he has emancipated himself. God, the King, the Empire, the Union Jack – all the overthrown idols can reappear under different names, and because they are not recognized for what they are they can be worshipped with a good conscience. Transferred nationalism, like the use of scapegoats, is a way of attaining salvation without altering one’s conduct.

Indifference to Reality. All nationalists have the power of not seeing resemblances between similar sets of facts. A British Tory will defend self-determination in Europe and oppose it in India with no feeling of inconsistency. Actions are held to be good or bad, not on their own merits, but according to who does them, and there is almost no kind of outrage – torture, the use of hostages, forced labour, mass deportations, imprisonment without trial, forgery, assassination, the bombing of civilians – which does not change its moral colour when it is committed by ‘our’ side. The Liberal News Chronicle published, as an example of shocking barbarity, photographs of Russians hanged by the Germans, and then a year or two later published with warm approval almost exactly similar photographs of Germans hanged by the Russians. It is the same with historical events. [...] If one looks back over the past quarter of a century, one finds that there was hardly a single year when atrocity stories were not being reported from some part of the world: and yet in not one single case were these atrocities – in Spain, Russia, China, Hungary, Mexico, Amritsar, Smyrna – believed in and disapproved of by the English intelligentsia as a whole. Whether such deeds were reprehensible, or even whether they happened, was always decided according to political predilection. The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them. For quite six years the English admirers of Hitler contrived not to learn of the existence of Dachau and Buchenwald. And those who are loudest in denouncing the German concentration camps are often quite unaware, or only very dimly aware, that there are also concentration camps in Russia. Huge events like the Ukraine famine of 1933, involving the deaths of millions of people, have actually escaped the attention of the majority of English russophiles. Many English people have heard almost nothing about the extermination of German and Polish Jews during the present war. Their own antisemitism has caused this vast crime to bounce off their consciousness. In nationalist thought there are facts which are both true and untrue, known and unknown. A known fact may be so unbearable that it is habitually pushed aside and not allowed to enter into logical processes, or on the other hand it may enter into every calculation and yet never be admitted as a fact, even in one’s own mind. Every nationalist is haunted by the belief that the past can be altered. He spends part of his time in a fantasy world in which things happen as they should – in which, for example, the Spanish Armada was a success or the Russian Revolution was crushed in 1918 – and he will transfer fragments of this world to the history books whenever possible. Much of the propagandist writing of our time amounts to plain forgery. Material facts are suppressed, dates altered, quotations removed from their context and doctored so as to change their meaning. Events which, it is felt, ought not to have happened are left unmentioned and ultimately denied. In 1927 Chiang Kai-Shek boiled hundreds of Communists alive, and yet within ten years he had become one of the heroes of the Left. The re-alignment of world politics had brought him into the anti-Fascist camp, and so it was felt that the boiling of the Communists ‘didn’t count’, or perhaps had not happened. The primary aim of propaganda is, of course, to influence contemporary opinion, but those who rewrite history do probably believe with part of their minds that they are actually thrusting facts into the past. When one considers the elaborate forgeries that have been committed in order to show that Trotsky did not play a valuable part in the Russian civil war, it is difficult to feel that the people responsible are merely lying. More probably they feel that their own version was what happened in the sight of God, and that one is justified in rearranging the records accordingly. Indifference to objective truth is encouraged by the sealing-off of one part of the world from another, which makes it harder and harder to discover what is actually happening. There can often be a genuine doubt about the most enormous events. For example, it is impossible to calculate within millions, perhaps even tens of millions, the number of deaths caused by the present war. The calamities that are constantly being reported – battles, massacres, famines, revolutions – tend to inspire in the average person a feeling of unreality. One has no way of verifying the facts, one is not even fully certain that they have happened, and one is always presented with totally different interpretations from different sources. What were the rights and wrongs of the Warsaw rising of August 1944? Is it true about the German gas ovens in Poland? Who was really to blame for the Bengal famine? Probably the truth is discoverable, but the facts will be so dishonestly set forth in almost any newspaper that the ordinary reader can be forgiven either for swallowing lies or failing to form an opinion. The general uncertainty as to what is really happening makes it easier to cling to lunatic beliefs. Since nothing is ever quite proved or disproved, the most unmistakable fact can be impudently denied. Moreover, although endlessly brooding on power, victory, defeat, revenge, the nationalist is often somewhat uninterested in what happens in the real world. What he wants is to feel that his own unit is getting the better of some other unit, and he can more easily do this by scoring off an adversary than by examining the facts to see whether they support him. All nationalist controversy is at the debating-society level. It is always entirely inconclusive, since each contestant invariably believes himself to have won the victory. Some nationalists are not far from schizophrenia, living quite happily amid dreams of power and conquest which have no connexion with the physical world.

[...] If one harbours anywhere in one’s mind a nationalistic loyalty or hatred, certain facts, although in a sense known to be true, are inadmissible. Here are just a few examples. I list below five types of nationalist, and against each I append a fact which it is impossible for that type of nationalist to accept, even in his secret thoughts:

British Tory. Britain will come out of this war with reduced power and prestige.

Communist. If she had not been aided by Britain and America, Russia would have been defeated by Germany.

Irish Nationalist. Eire can only remain independent because of British protection.

Trotskyist. The Stalin régime is accepted by the Russian masses.

Pacifist. Those who ‘abjure’ violence can only do so because others are committing violence on their behalf.

All of these facts are grossly obvious if one’s emotions do not happen to be involved: but to the kind of person named in each case they are also intolerable, and so they have to be denied, and false theories constructed upon their denial. I come back to the astonishing failure of military prediction in the present war. It is, I think, true to say that the intelligentsia have been more wrong about the progress of the war than the common people, and that they were more swayed by partisan feelings. The average intellectual of the Left believed, for instance, that the war was lost in 1940, that the Germans were bound to overrun Egypt in 1942, that the Japanese would never be driven out of the lands they had conquered, and that the Anglo-American bombing offensive was making no impression on Germany. He could believe these things because his hatred for the British ruling class forbade him to admit that British plans could succeed. There is no limit to the follies that can be swallowed if one is under the influence of feelings of this kind. I have heard it confidently stated, for instance, that the American troops had been brought to Europe not to fight the Germans but to crush an English revolution. One has to belong to the intelligentsia to believe things like that: no ordinary man could be such a fool. [...] The point is that as soon as fear, hatred, jealousy and power worship are involved, the sense of reality becomes unhinged. And, as I have pointed out already, the sense of right and wrong becomes unhinged also. There is no crime, absolutely none, that cannot be condoned when ‘our’ side commits it. Even if one does not deny that the crime has happened, even if one knows that it is exactly the same crime as one has condemned in some other case, even if one admits in an intellectual sense that it is unjustified – still one cannot feel that it is wrong. Loyalty is involved, and so pity ceases to function.

The reason for the rise and spread of nationalism is far too big a question to be raised here. [...] It can be plausibly argued, for instance – it is even probably true – that patriotism is an inoculation against nationalism, that monarchy is a guard against dictatorship, and that organized religion is a guard against superstition. Or again, it can be argued that no unbiased outlook is possible, that all creeds and causes involve the same lies, follies, and barbarities; and this is often advanced as a reason for keeping out of politics altogether. I do not accept this argument, if only because in the modern world no one describable as an intellectual can keep out of politics in the sense of not caring about them. I think one must engage in politics – using the word in a wide sense – and that one must have preferences: that is, one must recognize that some causes are objectively better than others, even if they are advanced by equally bad means. As for the nationalistic loves and hatreds that I have spoken of, they are part of the make-up of most of us, whether we like it or not. Whether it is possible to get rid of them I do not know, but I do believe that it is possible to struggle against them, and that this is essentially a moral effort. It is a question first of all of discovering what one really is, what one’s own feelings really are, and then of making allowance for the inevitable bias. If you hate and fear Russia, if you are jealous of the wealth and power of America, if you despise Jews, if you have a sentiment of inferiority towards the British ruling class, you cannot get rid of those feelings simply by taking thought. But you can at least recognize that you have them, and prevent them from contaminating your mental processes. The emotional urges which are inescapable, and are perhaps even necessary to political action, should be able to exist side by side with an acceptance of reality. But this, I repeat, needs a moral effort, and contemporary English literature, so far as it is alive at all to the major issues of our time, shows how few of us are prepared to make it.

#George Orwell #nationalism

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ishgardianrose · 3 years

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FFXIV WRITE - Day Twenty One: Feckless

Gauvain Marcellin, age 16, stood before the Temple Knight Captain, confidence and nervousness swelling inside of him. For the first time, Gauvain had adorned the armour he had longed to wear since he was a small child. He could scarce believe he was a knight already, blazing as he had through training, his dedication, sharpness, and mental fortitude enabling him to learn efficiently and to apply his knowledge aptly. Gauvain could not wait to begin protecting the people of Ishgard, to uphold virtue and honour.

The Temple Knight Captain was sitting behind his desk, sharpening a dagger. He glanced up at Gauvain with an expression that took the young elezen by surprise. It was dark, irritated.

“What is a feckless whelp like you doing here?” the Captain said gruffly and returned his attention to his knife.

Gauvain was completely taken aback. He tried to hide his shock and confusion, but his eyes were wide and his voice cracked as it left his lips. “Forgive me, Ser?”

“You heard me, Whelp. You shouldn’t be here.”

Gauvain clenched his teeth, a scowl settling onto his face. “What!?”

“Children like you are so full of self-importance, aren’t you? Well, children shouldn’t be knighted. I do not care who your father is,” the Captain continued. He set down the whetstone and sheathed his knife then stood. “Now I have things to do, so you best go to the training grounds and work until your hands bleed.”

“I have done that for years,” Gauvain said, backing up only a half-step before rooting himself firmly to the spot.

The Captain loomed over him. Gauvain had yet to hit his full growth spurt. His armour felt too large, and suddenly he felt even smaller than he really was. The Captain’s stare was so cold, so unduly spiteful.

“Your existence is barely a blink yet, whelp. You look a child, you are a child. A child should not be given armour,” the Captain said.

“I would not have been knighted had I not proven myself worthy,” Gauvain argued, but his confidence was rapidly withering.

“Your father, Ser Lothus, he was recently injured, wasn’t he? Unable to wield a sword anymore, they say. Bad arm injury, wasn’t it?”

“Shoulder,” Gauvain said quietly.

“Being his only progeny, I’m sure he was overeager to see you continue your family line’s work,” the Captain said.

A cold sweat pricked Gauvain’s neck, confusion and dread washing over him in equal measure. “What are you saying, Ser?”

“I’m saying you are not here based on merit or worthiness. Rather, you are here based on status and the desperation of a wounded man. Perhaps you’re even here by the grace of gil. Foolish for a father to toss his son away like this,” the Captain said and put his hand on Gauvain’s shoulder. He pushed him away easily and started to walk towards the door.

Gauvain whirled, trembling with indignation. “Ser! I have never heard such accusations.”

“A child thinks he has heard it all, when really his ears are barely wet with words,” the Captain said brusquely, walking into the hallway.

Gauvain hurried after him. “I am not here because of coin or status. I earned my place!”

The Captain shook his head. “Halone hope that’s true. Or we’ll have a dead Whelp by the end of the week.”

Gauvain watched the man disappear down a stairwell. His jaw ached from how hard he gritted his teeth together, his hands shaking from the tightness of his fists. It’s not true. It’s not true. Father would never pay or throw our name around. It’s not true. I deserve to be here.

Over and over again, Gauvain reassured himself of this as the days progressed. His first week as a knight was proving endlessly taxing. The Captain looked at him like he was a stain that needed to be cleaned off his armour. He made Gauvain work with the other children who were still in training, not even as a coach or a mentor, but as if he was not yet knighted, as if he were still in training alongside them. Drill after drill that was beneath his skill level, beneath his station. It was utterly humiliating. The other knights were beginning to laugh at him. Gauvain did not know how much more he could take.

***

“Let me prove myself, Ser!” Gauvain demanded, throwing down the training sword and racing after the Captain, who was walking by swiftly.

The Captain would not even look at him.

Gauvain glared, his throat filling with sharp anger. “Ser! I am a knight. I do not deserve this humiliation!”

“You are a Whelp. Not worth my time. Not worth spilling your blood all over the stones because you’re too undertrained to stand with the rest of us,” the Captain said, not slowing. “You’re a liability, child.”

Gauvain stopped in his tracks, the rage breaking in his chest. He growled at the back of his throat. “Fight me!”

The Captain stopped. He looked at Gauvain flatly. Gauvain felt the heat of his anger burning in his face, and a swift stab of humiliation as the Captain laughed. He laughed, while the other knights stared at Gauvain.

Gauvain felt his resolve waver. But he would not back down, he couldn’t. He would never gain their respect if he cowed like the weak, talentless child they thought him to be.

“Duel me! I’ll prove myself!” Gauvain insisted, but the volume of his voice had dropped without him meaning it to, and an obvious crack made his pitch waver.

The Captain raised a brow. “Your stones haven’t even dropped, Whelp. Don’t bother asking for a fight until they do.”

Someone laughed. Gauvain’s eyes burned with frustration.

“Duel me!”

The Captain sighed and leaned down towards him threateningly. “Come on, kid. Stop shaming yourself. You aren’t worth my time.”

Gauvain refused to let himself be intimidated, refused to let his expression waver, even as a pang struck him and hopelessness began to close over him.

The Captain turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“I will accept his challenge,” a smooth, calm voice suddenly said.

A hyuran man in dragoon armour stepped forward. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, a calm and calculating gaze, and a bold bearing. Erik Hyland.

Gauvain stared in surprise. The Captain glared.

“This Whelp is beneath your station, Ser Erik,” the Captain said.

Erik Hyland smiled. “A fellow knight, beneath my station? I hardly see it as such. Halone has decreed all of us be here.”

The Captain spat. “Do as you will then.”

Erik, unaffected by the whispers behind him, looked at Gauvain with complete evenness. “Let us retrieve our sparring weapons, Ser…?”

“Gauvain Marcellin.”

“Ah, Ser Lothus’s son.”

Gauvain wasn’t sure how to read Erik’s tone. There was no hint of contempt or disregard. He seemed neutral. Maybe scrutinizing, but not apparently judgemental. Gauvain bowed and hurried to get the training weapons.

***

Sword versus spear. An uneven match. Erik had much greater reach. But Gauvain felt most comfortable with a blade in his hand. And he was certain he could handle this. Everyone was watching. He had no choice but to handle it.

Erik struck suddenly and without any hint he was even about to move. He was fast and unhesitating. Going for openings, making bold movements, leaving Gauvain little time to do more than block or dodge. It seemed Ser Erik’s vaunted reputation did not fully encapsulate his tenacity; rather, it understated his immense skill. He was known for being brave, and that courage was clear even now, in the way he advanced. His timing was impeccable.

Gauvain recalled his training. Erik was clearly looking for his weak spots, not that Gauvain had been able to make many of his own movements. But Gauvain had studied each weapon thoroughly and every stance, how to counter them, how to create openings when none were present. He rolled away quickly then sprang up, finally seeing a window. And knew just how to force it open wider.

***

In the end, Gauvain found himself on the ground, at the mercy of Erik’s spear. He breathed hard, sweat and blood trickling into his mouth. Erik pulled back then offered his hand. Gauvain took it.

“You are highly skilled. I have rarely seen anyone which such clear knowledge of technique,” Erik said. “Thank you for that long match. You wield your sword immeasurably well. Ser Gauvain.”

Gauvain smiled, relief breaking over him. He quickly rubbed the blood off his lip, and bowed to Erik. Erik bowed back.

The Temple Knight Captain uncrossed his arms and fixed Gauvain with a piercing stare. “You can join patrol tonight, provided you aren’t too weak from your match.”

Gauvain shook his head, eyes bright.

“Then get ready, Ser Whelp.”

Gauvain rushed to clean the blood and sweat and dirt off his skin. He hurried to the entrance of the Congregation, his shield on his small back, his sword at his side. Hope filled him once more.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #FFxiv #;;cellowrites #no picture today because childhood scene >:D im enjoying fleshing this boi out

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mattchase82 · 3 years

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Saint Ladislas I King of Hungary

(1031-1095)

Ladislas I was the grandson of the cousin of Saint Stephen of Hungary and the second son of his father, King Bela. It was only with sadness that as a young man he had seen his father ascend the throne, since it was by a war against his father's own brother that he did so. Bela's virtuous son would gladly have escaped the honors of royalty, but his cousin Solomon, legitimate heir, was cruel and had been driven out by Ladislas' older brother, Geiza, who after taking his place had reigned for only three years before his death. The people of Hungary knew of Ladislas's bravery in combat, his chastity, and his sobriety, above all his charity; everywhere the poor were showing the clothing and the silver he had given them from his own house. He knew many of them by name, and they had named him the pious Prince, for he had built magnificent Christian churches in a land where many still honored the pagan idols. It was with joy that the people chose Ladislas to replace his brother as King of Hungary.

He soon showed himself to be a perfect Christian king by the moderation of his judgments, his affability in receiving even the least of his vassals, his fatherly kindness to all. He restored the good laws and discipline which Saint Stephen had established, and which seem to have been obliterated by the confusion of the times. Chastity, meekness, gravity, charity, and piety were from his infancy the distinguishing traits of his character.

Avarice and ambition were his sovereign aversion, so perfectly had the maxims of the Gospel extinguished in him all propensity to those base passions. His life in the palace continued to be very austere; he was very frugal and mortified personally, but very liberal to the Church and the poor. Vanity, pleasure, or idle amusements had no share in his actions or time, because all his moments were consecrated to the exercises of religion and the duties of his station. He had only the divine will in view, and always sought God's greater honor. Generous and merciful to his enemies, he was vigorous in the defense of his country and the Church.

During his reign his kingdom was attacked by numerous neighboring peoples. Before going out to repulse them he always commanded public prayers and a fast of three days, then at the head of his armies fought and was invariably victorious with the help of God, whom he did not cease to implore. He was preparing to depart, at the request of the princes of France, Spain and England, as General-in-chief of the 300,000 recruits of the great first crusade of the Christians against the Saracens for the recovery of the Holy Land, when God called him to Himself, on July 30, 1095, at the age of fifty-four years. Miracles were numerous at his tomb, and he was canonized one hundred years later, in 1199. The same day a small child born without hands and feet was cured by the invocation of Saint Ladislas.

Reflection. The Saints filled all their moments with good works and admirable actions; and while they labored for an immortal crown, the peace of Christ, the greatest share of worldly happiness of which this life is capable, was given them without their having sought it. In their afflictions virtue afforded them the most solid comfort, pointed out the remedy, and converted their tribulations into great advantages.

Prayer to Venerate Any Saint

Saint Ladislas I: Feast Day June 27

I desire therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all men: For kings, and for all that are in high station: that we may lead a quiet and a peaceable life in all piety and chastity. For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, Who will have all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:1-4)

And another angel came, and stood before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to him much incense, that he should offer of the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar, which is before the throne of God. And the smoke of the incense of the prayers of the saints ascended up before God from the hand of the angel. (Rev. 8:3-4)

ETERNAL Father, I wish to honor St. (Name), and I give Thee thanks for all the graces Thou has bestowed upon him (her). I ask Thee to please increase grace in my soul through the merits of this saint, and I commit the end of my life to him (her) by this special prayer, so that by virtue of Thy goodness and promise, St. (Name) might be my advocate and provide whatever is needed at that hour. Amen.

PROMISE: "When you wish to honor any particular saint and give Me thanks for all the graces I have bestowed on that saint, I increase grace in your soul through the merits of that saint. When you commit the end of your life to any of the saints by special prayers, I appoint those saints to be your advocates and to provide whatever you need at that hour."-Our Lord to St. Gertrude

Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich revealed in her Visions that saints are particularly powerful on their feast days and should be invoked then.

https://sanctoral.com/en/saints/saint_ladislas_i.html

#hungary #catholicism #traditional catholic #catholic #christianity #heaven #love #jesus christ #its the truth #catholic saints #catholic faith #middle ages #jesus loves you #jesusislord #catholic prayers #warrior

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