Where does your Art lead ( you/others) ?Hear what Father Rossignoli relates in his Merveilles du Purgatoire :More Like This
A painter of great skill and otherwise exemplary life had once made a painting not at all conformable to the strict rules of Christian modesty. It was one of those paintings which, under the pretext of being works of art, are found in the best families, and the sight of which causes the loss of so many souls.
True art is an inspiration from Heaven, which elevates the soul to God; profane art, which appeals to the senses only, which presents to the eye nothing but the beauties of flesh and blood, is but an inspiration of the evil spirit ; his works, brilliant though they may be, are not works of art, and the name is falsely attributed to them. They are the infamous productions of a corrupt imagination. The artist of whom we speak had allowed himself to be misled in this point by bad example. Soon, however, renouncing this pernicious style, he confined himself t
what year is itWoah, this place is dead. Or maybe it's just because I never hang out here anymore.More Like This
Anyways, for you guys who actually want to know what my life is like at the moment, I'll just go ahead and tell you.
I've been okay I guess. I just got my diagnosis for ADHD and I am eagerly waiting for the medication. I've made many more friends than last year, (which, well, was the time where I did not have anything else than internet friends). I've studied people and seen them make good and bad choices, I've seen people smoke, drink, going to parties while I'm at home at the phone trying to comfort them after what they did at the party. I like this lifestyle though. Straight Edge, I think it's called that. I've met a few guys and have had crushes on maaaany, buuuuut unfortunately no signs have been given back to me so I've pretty much just given up on that. After all, I'm young.
Everything is rushing by. I see 12-13 year olds smoke weed and have sex and I'm here wondering what's wrong with the
Ricin Letter Sent To ObamaI'm sure most of you have heard about the ricin-laden letter that was mailed to Obama.More Like This
And if you're like me, you've probably heard or run across comments expressing regret--not that some lowlife scumbag would send such a letter, but that the letter never reached the president. Yes, some people are deplorable enough to want to see the president's life endangered.
Folks, please don't act like that!
I'm no fan of Obama, but I don't want to see the man dead. I don't want him to be assassinated. I want him indicted with war crimes, or at least impeached. I may not like the guy, but I'm not going to wish death upon him. That's simply not American. Or human.
The Last TimeIt's January, or April. I don't know the year, it's been so long, and I'm trapped beneath the earth, in this freezing and disgustingly most, dark cell. These rusted chains are grinding and slicing their way into my arms, I know I'm bleeding out but, all that's left is this silent, unforgiving nightmare of a room.More Like This
I can't escape.
My body is numb.
I can't escape.
I try to move, it's too painful, and it hurts all too much. My arms just ache and thrive in agony; there is nothing I can do to break free. I feel like I'm being watched, constantly. Strange visions cloud my mind and mess with my head, are they memories? I don't know. Loud and unflinching, I shout out,
"HEY," No answer, "ANYBODY THERE? WHERE AM I" Still no answer.
I am too weak to try again, suddenly my ears catch a sound, the sound of bone being broken and grated against steel. My stomach churns as I try not to think about it. The sound came again, this time it was followed by a horrific scream. I thought I
Vox Day Is One Sick PuppyWhen I heard about Vox Day, I was ecstatic to learn about a prominent and outspoken Christian libertarian blogger.More Like This
I have since downloaded his e-book The Irrational Atheist, which I found to be a thorough and witty critique of the New Atheists and their arguments. So I only assume that his blog posts would be equally as witty and insightful.
Then I read his blog. Turns out the man is a nutter!
You know how most leftists consider libertarians to be privileged white boys trying to desperately protect their "privilege"? Well, Vox Day would be one reason why they assume that.
For starters, Vox Day once argued that working women were more detrimental to society than rapists.
I wish I was kidding!
But that's nothing compared to what he wrote
Knowing (pt 24)More Like This
“Octavian!” Lorcan's voice bellowed through the halls and somewhere found its mark. He turned his path toward the war room.
Octavian and Fiann appeared from somewhere behind him. Octavian caught up faster, and Fiann hefted her skirts to be able to run.
“Find father,” Lorcan demanded.
His tone must have said something more than his words, for Octavian turned and disappeared through a doorway. Fiann wrapped a hand around Lorcan's bicep.
Lorcan paused, but didn't turn.
“What happened?” she asked quietly. Calmly. Too calmly, as if she knew.
“The Drasilian.” Lorcan spat the words, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Fiann dropped her skirts and pressed her hands against her mouth, also effectively releasing Lorcan's arm from her surprisingly strong grasp. “Oh, Lorcan, I am so very sorry.”
He nodded, unable to put his emotions into words, and stalked off down the hallway.
Misfortunate - Part 8Explaining FearMore Like This
“Loki doesn't strike me as the type to take prisoners,” Mr. Stark said, folding his arms. “He's more of the psychotic, kill-everything-in-my-path kind of person.”
“Look, I'm not going to argue that point.” Mostly because you were pretty sure it was true. “All I'm saying is, I was out taking pictures and this guy with an arrow and blue eyes--”
“Barton?” The woman shot across the room. She probably would have lunged at your throat, but Steve stood and put out an arm to stop her advance. “What do you know about Barton?”
Well, that was unexpected. And, for Pete's sake, did you just have a sign on your forehead that read “come at me, bro. I love a good fight”? If people wouldn't be so defensive about everything, maybe you could make some sense of what was going on. As it was, you really didn't want another fight. “I didn't realize... I mean, I didn't know you knew him.”
Misfortunate - Part 9So, the bedrooms were... a little... fine. Be honest. They were tiny. And you were pretty sure you had spotted some straps attached to the bedframe. Which, you know, was only super creepy. You could barely turn around in the bathroom (but you were thankful there was a bathroom), and the door locked from the outside. It was like these people didn't trust you.More Like This
Agent Romanoff had left you a grey tank top, a pair of sweats, and a S.H.I.E.L.D. jacket. If nothing else, at least you would be comfortable. Maybe you could talk one of the women into lending you some makeup so you could look alive again.
You had slept for a solid two hours once they dropped you off here, but now you were wide awake and thoroughly agitated. Something felt wrong about this whole thing. Terribly, terribly wrong. Maybe it was just your paranoia, or maybe you needed to ask Thor what his brother was really like.
You sprang from the mattress, fixed your disheveled hair, and reached for the doorknob.
The door sprang open
Misfortunate - Part 6A Grand EntranceMore Like This
After a few phone calls to unnamed German officials, Coulson made quick work of getting you out of there. You were on the plane and in the air without ever catching a glimpse of Loki. And you were better for it. That idiot would only mess with your head again.
It was late – really late – by the time you landed, and you weren't prepared for the location you ended up at. It wasn't really a place at all. In fact, all you could see ahead of you were planes and sky. Dark, starlit sky.
“Where are we?” you asked, completely confounded by the scenery.
Coulson offered his hand to help you up out of the seat and the pilot lowered the back hatch. It took you a minute to remember you could trust him, but when you did you easily slid your hand into Coulson's. It reminded you a lot of your dad, and you realized you really missed him. Maybe you should have phoned home more often.
He didn't let go of your hand until you had made it through a thick
Misfortunate - Part 5The Black Forest DebacleMore Like This
Okay. You really had to stop passing out at important moments. Given, the first time was not your fault, but the second time was. You thought. Unless Loki had done his “go-to-sleep-now” trick on you again. Which was a complete possibility. Ugh! That insensitive jerk!
You groaned as you came to and put a hand to your head thinking maybe it would restore your equilibrium. This was not where you had passed out. This was... completely different. A long glass pane perched in front of you. Oh, hey, that was a window. And outside was sky. Lots of dark, open sky. Puzzle pieces slowly fit together. This was an airplane. You were flying. Great! One question answered.
You rolled your head to the side and saw the same man who had helped you off the street in Stuttgart. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees, intertwining his fingers. You couldn't tell if the look of concern was on your behalf or someone else's.
“How did y
Misfortunate - Part 3VillainousMore Like This
“This is for the best.”
That was what Barton said exactly three seconds before he used a silky scarf to blindfold you. Which was totally rude! You had no idea why you needed the blindfold, or what they thought you'd see. Obviously this plan had been a new development, maybe meant to scare you. If so, it was totally working.
“How am I supposed to know whether or not there's something I'm going to trip over?” Maybe you could out-trick these tricky people. Maybe. You crossed the fingers on one hand, but not the other because Barton would have seen it if you did. You thought. You didn't know. Not being able to see created a whole new host of problems.
Suddenly, you felt an exhalation of cool air against your ear. You stiffened. Normal people don't breathe out cold air. It had to be him. Icy fingers trailed down your cheek, and you jerked your head aside. You didn't belong to him. He needed to take his grimy paws off you.
His quiet laughter caused m
Knowing (pt 23)More Like This
Nissa's eyes flew open, but she managed to keep her concentration intact. She heard rather than saw Lorcan enter the room, his boots clicking on the hard floor. She didn't move. She couldn't. Everything hurt too much and The Knowing still lingered.
Lorcan lifted her enough to settle himself on the couch, and set her head down on his lap. His fingers absentmindedly stroked her hair, cool against her hot skin.
“It is The Knowing, is it not?” Lorcan asked.
Lorcan's fingers faltered, then resumed. “Please tell me what it says.”
Nissa blinked as moisture filled her eyes.
“Little mortal, you need never fear me. I will not harm you.”
She had never told anyone what The Knowing said to her before. She had been too scared. She was a freak, and she didn't want to make that well known. She hadn't even told E.J. what it said. She had wanted to, sometimes, but the fear kept her from doing it.
“What are you thinking of?”
The First Divergent (One-shot)You couldn't really understand what was happening. The black-hooded men dragged you through the hallways and past places you knew. And places you didn't. Toward a room you had seen before, but never tried to enter. It was forbidden.More Like This
You fought them. Kicked and scratched and clawed. Or, at least, tried to. Your uniform ripped in more than one place, but you didn't care. Why were they doing this to you? You hadn't done anything wrong. You were the top of your class. Passed your practice test in under three minutes.
Was that really a reason to punish you?
You should have chosen Dauntless when they gave you the choice. You would have, you reminded yourself, but Boaz had warned you against it. Said it would crush your spirit. Like he would have known. But he begged, so you didn't.
You were sure he would have protected you, had he known.
The men deposited you on the floor, and you scrambled to your feet. Guns around the room already pointed in your direction. You stood still and tried to see
Gods GiftAn Angel perches within stride,More Like This
Watching over the prophetic tide.
Marveling at the dexterous diction that came from the inside,
A soul of brutal purity. Mine.
One constructed on sparse nurturing.
On the verge of mind and body Rebelling.
An Angel perches withing stride, Delighted.
I ponder the ocean, land and people,
My Shadow made, left to its own devices,
Should outlast to become their coequal.
With its own Hierarchy and acceptable vices.
I ponder very curse i write,
Every maker I smite.
All knowing a Demon perches,
Within Stride, as my mind searches
For a way to scrawl my way out of time
Back into an existing sublime,
While Heaven and Hell perch within stride,
I mustn't shift the tide.
I walk a very delicate line.
Feast of The Sacred Heart of JesusMore Like This
Devotion to the Sacred Heart, as we know it, began about the year 1672. On repeated occasions, Jesus appeared to Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, a Visitation nun, in France, and during these apparitions He explained to her the devotion to His Sacred Heart as He wanted people to practice it. he asked to be honored in the symbol of His Heart of flesh; he asked for acts of reparation, for frequent Communion, Communion on the First Friday of the month, and the keeping of the Holy Hour.
When the Catholic Church approved the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, she did not base her action only on the visions of Saint Margaret Mary. The Church approved the devotion on its own merits. There is only on
Triggers, Triggers Everywhere"Trigger warning."More Like This
If you browse art on dA or Tumblr, you've probably seen these words before.
What exactly is a trigger?
Triggers come in multiple flavors.
Trauma triggersA person who has experienced a severe traumatic event—which isn't just limited to war veterans—may find that a particular sensory experience sends them back to that trauma. Although as camelopardalisinblue rightfully points out, it may not always be a full-scale flashback. Plenty of grey areas. Learn more about PTSD here.
I knew someone who had been abused in a room with fish-themed wallpaper. (Details changed to protect privacy.) So while something like the Jesus fish was tolerable because it was so abstract, they found real fish uncomfortable, and sudden exposure to a similar type of fish drawin