#Sophia Perennis

[eduardo-liebana]

Se ha vuelto a agotar el libro de Ramana Maharshi

Se ha vuelto a agotar el libro de Ramana Maharshi

No necesitas clamar,la fuente brota de ti.No detengas su manantial:fluye eternamente, siendo agradecido. SILESIUS 1624-1677 leer+ Portada de la nueva edición (2021) del libro “Sé lo que eres” de la editorial José J de Olañeta y traducción de José Arrese El 28 de julio me llamó el editor José J. de Olañeta para notificarme que una vez más y esta es la tercera vez que sucede se habían agotado…

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#ADVAITA VEDANTA #Editorial José J.de Olañeta #Eduardo Liébana sanador profesional de la Escuela Britanica #eduardo liebana #eduardo liebana sanador #Enseñanzas de Sir ramana maharshi #equipo de sanadores #José J de Olañeta Editor #Ramana Maharshi #sanacion espiritual #sanacion espiritual palencia #sanacion palencia #Sanador profesional Eduardo Liebana #sanadores palencia blog #Sophia Perennis #Sophia Perennis jose j. de olañeta.

[five-rivers]

Cult Division 1

A continuation of this series.

Cameron Daily ran Amity Park Police Department’s Cult Division.  

Phrasing it that was, honestly, pretty generous.  Ninety percent of the time it was him and his computer monitoring Amity Park’s religious social media and the Amity of Amity Park community forums.  Most of the time, the cults were harmless splinters of more established religions.  Just people trying to come to terms with the whole ‘ghosts are real’ thing.

Hell, technically speaking, he was part of a cult.  An extra dimension full of super powered and extremely violent dead people of various moralities wasn’t part of standard Episcopalian cosmology.

Anyway, most of the time his job was fairly laid back.  Low effort, low responsibility.  He did, however, have the ability to rope other people in if it looked like something bad was about to go down.  

Something was about to go down.  

Now, whether it was bad or not, he didn’t know, but since it was happening at midnight in the graveyard, he was going to play this cautiously.  Especially since the cult in question was one of the Phantom cults.  

Not to be judgemental, but the Phantom cults caused at least half of the cult problems.  From kidnapping Danny Fenton that one time to starting a fight with the more established churches over putting a religious statue of Phantom in Amity Park… okay, that was at least half on the Christians, but still.  The kidnapping thing still stood.

Plus, and he was saying this as someone who looked into a lot of cults, some of the Phantom cults were just downright creepy.  

Okay, anyway.  Time to call in help.  

“Hey!” he shouted across the room.  “Paterson!  Collins!  McGee!  I need your help with something!”

“I’m not interviewing any more cultists!” said Paterson.  “I’m out!”

“Stakeout and I’ll buy you pizza!”

“Changed my mind.  I’m in!”

.

McGee thought he was okay with stakeouts.  He was a detective.  Undercover.  It was one of the tools in his box.  Part of the package.  A stereotype, even.  He’d gotten used to them long ago.  

But stakeouts in the backseat of Collins’s car were something awful.  There was never enough room.  Ever since the Fentons had come out with the ‘Fenton Freshener’ the vehicle had smelled perennially of limes and ozone, which went poorly with the oregano on the pizza.  There was always the chance that a ghost might come along.

Having Daily squeezed back there with him only made it worse.

“Having us stay out all night because a teenager called in a tip seems like overkill.”

“Not just any teenager,” said Daily, “Sophia LaMar.  She’s connected.  I’ve also got red flags on a bunch of social traffic and some of the Amity of Amity boards.  This is the real deal.”

“I thought you kept getting kicked from the Amity of Amity boards.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was accessing it from the police station.  Apparently they have something programmed to weed out the GIW.  I monitor the Amity boards from home, now."  He made a face.  “I still sometimes get kicked, those guys are really insistent on not being monitored by law enforcement, but–”

The door opened, making everyone jump.

“Move over,” said Danny Fenton, prompting Daily to scoot further into McGee’s space.  

“How do you do that?” demanded McGee.  “Do your parents know where you are?  It’s eleven.”

“Don’t you get tired of reacting that way?” asked Danny, sliding into the seat Daily had just vacated.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No.  You?”

“Just that some of the cult kids were really antsy about something, and the occult side of the Amity forums kept talking about how special the date is.”  He made a face.  “I don’t get it.  It isn’t like there’s a planetary alignment or a meteor shower or anything.  It isn’t even a new moon or a full moon.”

“Not all special dates have to do with astronomy,” said Paterson, playing with her binoculars.  “Any other messages?”

“Phantom he’s going to be out here tonight, in case whatever is going on is more magic ritual than graverobbing.  He’d like you not to shoot at him if he has to go fight the cultists over some kind of slavery spell or something.”

“And if it is graverobbing?” asked Collins, putting his coffee in the cup holder.  

“He’d rather you guys take care of it before they start digging.”

“Sure thing.”

“Great.  I can’t hang aroun– Oh, is that the new jalapeno and pepperoncini pizza from Spectral Slices?”

“Triple cheese,” said Daily, apologetically.  

“Ah, well.  You should try the ghost chili one, it’s to die for.”  Fenton climbed out of the car.  “Have a good night!”

McGee waited for him to be a good deal away.  “Why does no one else think a teenager hopping into a car in the middle of a stakeout at almost midnight weird?”

“We do think it’s weird,” said Paterson.  “But he is a Fenton.”

“Yeah,” said Collins.  “You have to make allowances.”  He leaned forward.  “I see something.”

“Oh, they’re wearing robes.  That’s cute,” said Paterson.  McGee would have to take her word for it, because in the back he could see approximately nothing.  “Probably a bad sign, though.”

“You’re telling me,” said Daily.  “Robes mean rituals, ritual action, means they’re serious about this.”

“Aren’t all cults serious about what they do?” asked Paterson.

“Sure, but it raises the stakes.  Do you know how hard it is to get teenagers to stick to a dress code?  Mom couldn’t even stop my sister from going out in a crop top.  Did you know–”

“Cameron,” groaned Paterson, “we’re trying to focus on the cult.”

.

Danny watched the cultists from above.  He…  Okay, at first he’d thought that it was kind of fun, having cults.  Like a sort of fan club.  It was always nice to be appreciated.

Now, though?  Some, most, even, were still like fan clubs, but others were… pushy.  Always wanting things he couldn’t give them.  He tried to minimize interactions with them.  

He didn’t like the idea of one of those messing around with his grave.  Which.  You know.  Contained his dead body.  

Luckily, they didn’t seem to be breaking out any shovels or knives or weird books or chants.  Maybe they just wanted to say some prayers?

One of the cultists took out a large folded sheet from under their robe.  Were they having a picnic or something?  The cultists unfolded it.  

Danny had just enough time to see the circle sewn into it before he was suddenly in the midst of the cultists, floating above the circle.  

“Oh my gosh,” he said.  “Was I just summoned?  Was that what that was?”

The cultists start to celebrate.  

.

“Oh no,” said Collins as a very familiar dot of light appeared in the middle of the graveyard.  “Looks like things just went wrong.”

Paterson dropped her binoculars.  “Did he just get summoned?”

#danny phantom #exhumed #dannymay 2022 #dannymay #corpse au

[luulapants]

I’m on the names AGAIN

Some of you may know, name etymology is a perennial hyperfixation of mine, so every once in a while, I burrow down and get lost in the name sauce. If you want more information about the history of a name or are looking for some name variation options to trans or translate a name, send me an ask!

Here’s a list of names I’ve done in the past:

Alice

Angie/Angela

Ann/Anne/Anna/Hannah

Benjamin (feminine version?)

Brooke

Byron

Candace

Carrie/Caroline

Catherine/Katherine

Cecile/Cecilia

Cynthia

Derek/Dirk

Elliot

Gregory/Greg

James

Janine

Judith

Hadrian

Harriet

Lee/Leigh

Lewis/Louis

Lillian

Linnea

Marian

Megan

Nathaniel

Noreen/Nora (masculine version?)

Reabetswe

Rebecca

Renee/Rene

Ridge

Sanne

Sophia/Sophie

Suzanna/Suzanne

Xeni/Xenia

#names #etymology #ask prompt

[persianatpenn]

"Hoist with His Own Petard": a Tragic Irony of Seyyed Nasr's Life

In 1974 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, a 41 years old scholar and thinker, a descendant of the Prophet, and a representative of the highest echelon of Iranian intellectual elite, established the Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy in Tehran: (انجمن شاهنشاهی فلسفه ایران).

In the first issue of the academy’s journal “جاویدان خرد”, (literally “Eternal Wisdom” or relying on context “Sophia Perennis”) he announced that the goal of the Academy is the revival of the traditional intellectual life of Islamic Persia.

Indeed, in highly westernized intellectual climate during Pahlavi’s regime where even the Western name فلسفه (philosophy) instead of Persian Arabic حكمة (wisdom) was offered for Academy, Nasr’s academic interests in Islamic philosophy and Islamic Science was very timely. When he was appointed to Tehran University at the Faculty of Letters and Humanities (دانشكده ادبيات و علوم انساني) it was completely dominated by western understanding of humanities.

His teaching of Islamic Philosophy and Islamic Sciences within the Tehran university in addition to his translations of Western Traditionalists (who admired Islam for preserving the “Tradition”) like Guenon in "Crise du monde moderne" (“Crisis of the modern world”) multiplied by publishing of classical texts of Islamic Philosophy through the academy plus holding meetings and conferences inviting people, like Ayatollah Mortada Mottahari and Ayatollah Jalal al-Din Ashtiyani with similar thoughts on the necessity of revival the classical Islamic intellectual traditions due to the danger of Pahlavi’s galloping Westernization lead to an obviously expected result – the growth of interest in Islamic philosophy contributed to the growth of interest in Islam in general among Iranian students.

Nasr's contributions to the revival of Islamic traditional intellectual life in Iran eventually played a cruel joke on him. While he spoke out against modernity in his lectures, he also undermined the Pahlavi regime's agenda. However, the most intricate and thorny matter was Nasr's personal association with the Shah's family, which eventually became his biggest liability. As more of his followers and students began to agree with him, the more they started scrutinizing his personal connections, which led to accusations of hypocrisy and treachery. These criticisms and accusations of hypocrisy ultimately caused Nasr to stay abroad during the Islamic Revolution and eventually never return…

(A table of contents from the first issue of Nasr's journal, containing predominantly articles about philosophy and science of Islamic Persia) سرگیٔی

#Iran #persian culture #seyyed hossein nasr #persian philosophy #intellectual history

[moonfirebrides]

Alternative Bridal Wear For The Modern Bride

Wallpaper*

We present our edit of unconventional wedding dresses and alternative bridal wear looks

Taking its name from the Italian word for bride, ‘Sposa 1’ marks Taller Marmo’s first foray into bridal wear, promising an exploration of ‘decoration, dressmaking and ceremony’ through ornate but contemporary designs which contain all the Milanese label’s hallmarks – namely, fringing and feathers in abundance. Drawing inspiration from 1960s jet-set style – Sophia Loren is noted as a perennial reference point – the intricately crafted collection comprises numerous options for the modern bride, from feather-trimmed mini dresses to signature kaftan-style gowns in alabaster white and cream, decorated with a plethora of detailing inspired by ‘nature’s gifts’ (flowers, corals, shells, et cetera). It lends the collection the ‘essence of couture’, not least in the fabrics themselves, several of which are made in Como in Italy on traditional looms dating back to the 1950s, ‘thus adding to the romance of the pieces and harking to the notion of love beyond time; everlasting’.

Gown by tallermarmo.com

#gown #bridal gown #black beauty #black woman #natural hair #black bride #black women #beauty #dark skin #afro bridal #bridal #minimalist bride #natural hair bride #wallpaper #tallermarmo

[lilyevanstan1325]

✨ Astral Lovers ✨

Chapter 11

Philiph McTavish POV

GENEVA - Switzerland

I find myself looking at the monitors from the security room.

Standing, with my hands folded behind my back, I try to figure out how to get out of this situation.

I feel one step away from being able to find the solution to my problem but in the end something is always missing.

I need the Space Stone.

Hydra needs it.

I'm running out of time.

If so far I have been feared and respected, now from the upper floors they have let me know that my time is running out, 10 years is too long and their patience is now at the limit.

They need the Stone now.

I take off my glasses and with the flap of my smock I clean the lenses, I observe them against the light.

I mirror myself in their reflection and the image they return to me makes me angry.

Dark circles around my tired gray eyes.

I don't have time to rest.

I have to find a solution.

If I fail I will lose my prominent place, maybe I'll end up serving as a servant to the subjects we keep in this facility and that would be one of the best guesses after all.

For what is at stake, I would find myself paying for failure with my own life.

Hydra does not forgive.

"Oh Sophia with your death you took away the only secret I was ever interested in..."

I whisper to myself.

When I was given this assignment I did not believe it was that long term, an assignment that culminated in a marriage and a daughter.

Maybe there was a moment when I really loved that woman, with the birth of Elisabeth I almost believed I could be happy.

To be able to devote my life to my family but the importance of my mission ultimately took priority.

We are fighting for the greater good, Hydra needs to return to power.

Destroy the S.H.I.E.L.D. and any other stupid organization that dares to get in the way.

Like the Avengers.

I think back to Dr. Avery's words and sigh.

Finding something she loves to bend her to our will.

Everything that Elisabeth loved was her mother and she is gone.

The mental prison where we closed her is totally different from reality, created so that she would not struggle to return to us.

It took nearly a decade of cryogenesis.

The Project T.A.H.I.T.I. it took some time for it to work.

Agent Coulson worked on his guinea pigs and then on himself.

With the results we had on the same experience as him we decided to try.

So some of our infiltrators stole projects and data and we scientists loyal to Hydra have thought of everything else.

Putting new memories into Elisabeth's mind was definitely not a walk in the park but it worked in the end.

By obscuring her memory and inserting a new story for her life, a sad and monotonous story that kept her chained to the perennial sleep that we would soon impose on her.

As soon as everything was ready she was thawed and sedated and she was induced into a pharmacological coma.

We monitored it and in just over 3 months the situation precipitated.

The Stone is consuming her being and the only solution not to lose her would be to wake her up.

I sigh again but this time in frustration.

I turn to the only window in this room.

It's snowing outside, Geneva is really freezing in December.

Snowflakes swirl in the gray sky, the branches of the trees bend weighted down by the thick blanket of snow that fell tonight.

Suddenly a red light in the room turns on, flashing non-stop and a high-pitched alarm begins to sound throughout the building.

I run up to the monitors and what I see leaves me breathless.

I open the door and begin to run out of breath along the corridor, overwhelming everything and everyone who comes within range.

I am overtaken by dozens of armed men.

"Stop!Stop!"

I cry out of breath but they can't hear me in the midst of all that din.

"Don't shoot idiots!Do not shoot!"

I arrive in front of the door of her room and the scene in front is surreal.

There are about ten guards lying on the floor of the room, they seem to have lost consciousness.

As many guards have encircled the bed in the center of the room, I push forward badly pushing the gunmen.

"Stop!Do not shoot!"

At the foot of the bed is Dr. Avery, stained with blood as if he had hit something with his own face.

All the machinery in the room is scattered across the floor.

And then there is her.

Elisabeth.

She is standing next to the bed that she has hosted her for the past 3 months.

She has her arms outstretched, in a defensive position.

A small creature wrapped in a hospital gown too big for her, her black curls fall messily on her face.

God!

She is the same as her mother.

Her arms are crossed by what appear to be electric discharges, but they are blue.

The Stone is active, showing its power.

Her eyes are bewildered, confused.

Her chest rises and falls frantically.

She looks like a trapped animal.

Dr. Avery keeps telling her to calm down, that nobody wants to hurt her.

What a big lie.

As soon as her eyes meet mine she winces, she seems to relax a little but her hands continue to reverberate with that strange and fascinating energy.

"You?"

"Hi Elisabeth.You finally woke up.I was so worried"

I have to play my part as a worried father at my best.

She looks at me, her big onyx eyes seem to peer into me.

"What am I doing here?Where I am?" she asks me suspiciously.

I will opt for a half truth.

"You are in an old fortress that the people I work for have converted into a private clinic.We are in Geneva, Switzerland.You've been here for 10 years now.You went into a coma after a bad accident in Brookville.The same incident where my poor Sophia, your mother, lost her life.I've been waiting for so long for you to open your eyes again, I've never lost hope"

She doesn't seem to believe me.

Damn!

"I understand you may feel confused now but it's okay.You are safe here"

I try to tell her in a strong and confident voice.

"Why the armed guards?" her voice is scratchy from her decade of inactivity.

"They..." I tell her pointing with my hand before her at the guards and then Dr. Avery "They are only here to protect you"

"Protect me from what exactly" she asks me sharpening her eyes.

Too many questions.

That's no good.

I approach slowly, palms facing up to make her understand that I have only peaceful intentions.

Almost.

But this she cannot know.

As I pass a trolley with medical equipment I see what appears to be a syringe full of sedative, I grab it unnoticed and hide it in the sleeve of my lab coat.

"I defend you from the world my child.Out there is full of people who want to hurt you because of your abilities" so saying I point to her hands still traversed by those electric shocks.

I get even closer.

Now a few steps separate us.

She continues to remain on the defensive, opens and closes her fists as if weighing the immensity of that power.

She raises a hand forward, the guards immediately cock their rifles at her.

"Firm idiots.Put those damn weapons down!" I scream with all the breath in my throat.

The agents look at each other confused but obey.

They are forced to do it.

Elisabeth's arm is now stretched out in front of her, it looks like she's focusing on one of the monitors in front of her.

She then gestures with her hand, as if she is chasing away a fly and at the same time as her movement the monitor rises into the air and crashes into the wall behind me.

The monitor barely touches my face but I try to stay calm.

"Bullshits!" she screams, flames of anger dance in her eyes.

"You are evil.You Doctor Ross or should I say Doctor McTavish?"

I remain petrified.

How the hell does she know?

This is classified information.

Even her mother never knew who I really was, at least until shortly before her death.

She smiles at me bitterly and keeps talking.

"You killed my mother"

"It was an accident Lily"

I call her with the diminutive who her mother loved so much trying to sweeten her.

"I know it was an accident but if you hadn't deceived her, you hadn't married her just because she was a guardian of one of the Infinity Stones, we wouldn't have been there that day.And she would still be alive"

I can't hide my shocked face, it's not possible that she knows all these things.

It is absolutely not possible.

"How the hell do you..." I'm about to ask her but her crystalline laugh interrupts me.

" Jesus Christ Philiph you should see your face right now.Know that you will not get what you want so much.I'd rather die than help you son of a bitch!"

She walks up to me, chest to chest.

The agents behind me fidget, I signal them not to move.

She is challenging me.

And for the first time I am blown away, I don't know how to react.

She stands up on her toes and whispers in my ear "Oh so you know you are not my father" she pulls her face away from mine.

"But you already knew this, didn't you?Or at least you've always suspected it"

Now she smiles at me with satisfaction.

I raise a corner of my lips.

"I thought so" I admit.

"But that's okay, it'll be easier to get rid of you"

So saying I quickly raise my hand and stick the syringe full of sedative into her neck.

She collapses immediately in my arms, tries feebly to rebel.

"Quiet Elisabeth.At the end of all this you will be free and happy.Because in the end you will hug your mother again"

Steve POV

I haven't heard from Lily in nearly two days now.

Yesterday, just before I got home from my mission in Washington with Nat, I spoke to Bucky on the phone about her and he told me he saw her.

He talked to her, he says she's fine.

But I am not well.

Knowing that she feels betrayed by me is corroding my soul.

Now I'm sitting here at my desk and I'm standing there lost in my thoughts because I don't even know where the hell to look for her.

I can't live like this, I can't take it anymore.

I support my elbows on my knees and sink my face into my hands.

My friends were right, I should have told her the truth because Lily is strong.

She is stubborn.

She would have known how to deal with the whole situation.

But I just wanted to protect her.

Just this.

Is it really so wrong to try to protect the one you love?

"Steve?Hey Steve!"

Natasha is standing in front of my bedroom door, one shoulder leaning against the door jamb and her arms crossed over her chest.

"How are you?"

I hate this question.

I lift my face from my hands.

"How am I supposed to be Nat?Maybe I've lost the love of my life forever, how should I feel?"

I reply with a veil of anger in my voice.

"How would you be if you lost Bucky?"

The words slip out of my mouth without having time to stop them.

She looks at me with wide eyes, for the first time I see her unable to hide her true emotions.

"What are you talking about Rogers?" she stammers.

"Please Romanoff spare me your lies"

She sighs and enters my room closing the door behind her.

"Did he tell you?"

"Who Bucky?No, he's too afraid of you"

We both giggle.

I keep talking.

"Really, he has nothing to do with it.I saw it by myself, that day at the Brookville's cemetery.Why didn't you tell me about it?You are my best friends, I would have only been happy for the two of you.You deserve all the happiness in this world.You know I really think so"

The redhead slumps herself on the bed, then she leans up on her elbows.

"Stevie you know I suck with the love stuff" she glances up at the ceiling.

"Besides, I didn't tell you about it just because I was scared of this feeling I guess"

"Natasha loves James" I chirp teasing her.

She reaches out one leg and places her boot on my foot.

"Ouch"

"Shut the fuck up Rogers"

We both burst out laughing.

When our laughter dies I hear her whisper.

"Yes.I think in the end we fell in love"

"I'm happy for you"

We look at each other for a few moments, I feel my eyes moisten under her gaze.

I turn my head quickly to the opposite side.

Captain America doesn't cry.

"Steve?"

I don't answer my friend, I don't have the strength.

I hear the rustle of the blankets as Natasha's body leaves the bed.

I keep looking at the wall in front of me and don't even turn around when my friend bends over her knees by my side.

She puts a hand on my leg and squeezes.

I cover her hand with mine.

Our fingers intertwine.

Some tears escape from my eyes out of my control.

"What if I had lost her forever?"

I feel my heart breaking at the very thought.

"Steve this doesn't exist.I'm willing to look for her all over the planet and kick her to you if necessary"

I smile at her weakly.

I know she would be able to do it.

"Come here hunk" she tells me as she stands up.

When she is standing in front of me she hugs me, her arms are around my neck.

I rest my head on her chest trying to regain control of myself.

"It will be all right Rogers.We're going to make sure that she's okay"

We stand still until Friday's voice catches our attention.

"Captain Rogers.Agent Romanoff.Sergeant Barnes has requested your presence in the meeting room"

Nat and I look into each other's dazed eyes, we are both confused.

"Thanks Friday, we'll be right there" I reply.

Nat releases her embrace and holds out her hand to help me get up.

In silence we go downstairs until we find ourselves in the meeting room.

Along with Bucky are Sam, Tony, Bruce and even Doctor Strange.

I walk in with a slow pace, I don't understand what is happening.

Bucky walks up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

He turns to everyone present and begins to speak.

"Now that we're all here we can get started.Dr Strange and I have something to update you on"

I stare intently at my best friend, he returns my gaze only for a moment then looks away as if he feels guilty.

What the hell is going on?

Natasha sits next to me.

Bucky and Strange talk.

They tell everything that has happened in the last 36 hours.

With every word from them I am more and more shocked.

Jesus Christ everything I could have imagined except that Lily was Strange's daughter.

Natasha, on the other hand, is watching Bucky intently, he is blatantly avoiding her girlfriend's gaze.

I know what Nat is thinking because I'm thinking the same thing.

Bucky lied to both of them.

Why did she prefer to get help from my best friend and not me?

My chest aches.

But I try to put my feelings aside and focus on what people in front of me have to say.

Banner is talking now.

"I did the research you asked Barnes and found all the information about the T.A.H.I.T.I. Project.

T.A.H.I.T.I., Terrestrialized Alien Host Integrative Tissue I., was a S.H.I.E.L.D. Level 9 project ordered by Nick Fury and overseen by Phil Coulson.It involved the harvesting of an alien corpse for medicinal purposes.For Lily they didn't use the medical part of the project but they used the Memory Overwriting Machine.That machine is used to scrub the brains and give the patients new lives but Phil Coulson regretted using the machine when he heard the screams that each person gave as they were kept conscious, with their skull caps removed, as their memories were changed.So the project was suspended but apparently Hydra carried the work on"

Bruce sighs, he seems in pain.

"It must not have been easy for her but technically that's what she was subjected to"

A strangled sound comes from my lips, I rest my elbows on my knees and take a deep breath.

I feel my head spinning.

Breath in and breath out.

Breath in and breath out.

Breath in and breath out.

The waves of nausea seem to subside.

"Everything ok Cap?"

Tony's voice forces me to look up.

All eyes in this room are on me.

A couple in particular seem to be examining me thoroughly.

Stephen Strange.

His eyes so similar to her daughter's.

"Yeah.Yeah.Sorry!I...I need some air.Excuse me!"

I get up and stride away from that stuffy room.

I pay no attention to anything, not even Bucky's voice calling me.

I reach the large terrace of the tower and observe the panorama in front of me.

It's all a lot more complicated than I imagined.

Damn!

If I had asked for help first, maybe today Lily would not be lost who knows where.

Maybe I could have helped her.

What she has been subjected to is something inhumane.

I clench my fists.

I would just like to find those responsible for this and take my anger out on them.

I hear footsteps behind me.

"You know if it can make you feel better you can punch me if you like"

"I will not hit you James"

"Fuck...you call me James this means that you are much more than mad at me"

I sigh without answering him.

I know it's not his fault.

I screwed up everything!

I am the one who was wrong about her by hiding the truth, indeed he has always encouraged me not to lie to her.

I lean on the railing and let my thoughts wander at full speed.

I hear Bucky approaching and he too leans against the railing.

We remain silent without saying anything.

The sun is setting, the outline of the moon is already visible and soon the stars will appear.

Another night away from her.

"Shit!" I exclaim, turning my back to the New York skyline and leaning my back where my arms used to be.

Bucky speaks without looking at me.

"I'm sorry for lying to you brother.I hated every moment I did it.But it was her who begged me not to tell you what she was planning to do.I couldn't tell her no, she made me promise" Bucky sighs.

I laugh.

"I know the feeling.Lily can be very convincing when she wants.Or when she needs it" I reply with a smile on my face.

"You know she has never been in danger for even a moment, right?I would never allow anyone or anything to get close to her.I would have given and still would give my life for her.I love her as I love you"

I know he's sincere and I know I can trust him blindly.

"Thanks for being there when I wasn't there"

"Nah...don't thank me.I didn't do anything extraordinary" my friend replies with a shrug.

"Oh man you lied to Natasha, it means you really care"

We look into each other's eyes and burst out laughing.

"Yeah dude, you owe me a huge favor.Did you see that fiery glances she threw at me?This time she will kill me" Bucky replies with a chuckle.

Fuck.

I feel guilty.

"Actually there is more..." I reply scratching the back of my neck.

"She knows that I know about you two" I admit with a sigh.

Bucky looks at me with wide eyes.

"Oh c'mon man!Why?Hell hours will be waiting for me now"

I'm a little sorry for him but just a little.

"Sorry Buck, it just slipped out of my mouth"

I apologize to him.

We remain silent again.

Then Bucky turns to me.

His words exude confidence.

"We are close Steve.Right now I am sure she is fighting to find the truth.Just have a little faith in her"

"I trust her, I'm just afraid for her.I think it's normal when you love someone, right?"

Bucky claps his hand in Vibranium on my shoulder a couple of times.

"I know man, I know"

Together we walk back to the meeting room but suddenly Bucky stops and claps a hand on his forehead as if he were berating himself for forgetting something.

"I forgot I promised to give you a message"

I'm a little confused.

"Lily left me a message?"

"Yes man, she literally told me to tell you that she loves you and in one way or another she will see you again soon"

I feel a little hope inside me.

Maybe in the end she doesn't hate me.

We continue on our way and when we get to the meeting room I can't believe my eyes.

My breath catches in my throat.

Lily POV

I snap my eyes open and put my hand around my neck where the needle has penetrated my skin.

I quickly sit up and look around.

Shit.

I'm back in my room in Brookville.

Fuck!

Ok, no panic.

In the end it is not a bad thing that I am here.

Now I know where my body is and I have a chance to warn Bucky.

And Steve.

God how much I need to see Steve again.

I get up and go to the kitchen, I need a moment to rearrange my ideas and understand how to act.

I prepare a cup of hot and steaming tea, I warm my cold hands with the heat of the cup.

The golden liquid warms me to my bones.

I think about the way I dealt with all those men, how I landed them like nothing had happened.

The power of that Stone is truly unlimited.

I can't help but feel a puddle of excitement in my being, knowing that there is a high chance of being able to return to live in the real world just freaks me out.

I go back up and after a quick shower I get dressed, wearing a midnight blue knit dress and a pair of gray boots.

Now it's time to go back to New York.

From Steve.

I try to relax my muscles and clear my mind.

In no time I find myself in New York in front of Steve's apartment.

I run up the stairs and frantically knock on the door but no one comes to open it.

Shit.

Maybe I should have appeared in front of the tower.

I turn and start to leave when I bump into Sharon.

"Hi, are you here for Steve?" she asks me curiously, tilting her head slightly to the side.

Her long honey-like hair sways as she moves.

She is very beautiful.

Elegant and sensual.

I feel an abyss expanding between us.

I shake my head slightly to dismiss these troublesome thoughts, I already have enough problems at the moment.

"Yes, I just arrived and I thought I would find him at home"

She looks at me without saying anything, her gaze puts me in awe.

I look at her better.

She is wearing a white sweater and jeans that wrap her long legs perfectly.

At her feet he wears high-heeled pumps, in her hands he holds a long black coat.

"Excuse me if I dare but are you and Steve together?" Sharon asks me suddenly.

I don't know why but her question does not surprise me in fact I expected it.

I focus my gaze on her.

About many things at the moment I'm not sure in my life but I know that our love is the only certainty.

"We are in love, I love him"

She raises an eyebrow, she looks skeptical.

I understand her a little.

Sometimes I even find it hard to believe that Steve can love me.

"Well, if you say so" the blonde in front of me replies with a mocking smile.

She turns and walks towards the lift.

If first I thought she might be the right choice for Steve, now I don't think so anymore, her beauty is just an empty shell.

Inside there is no kindness and compassion but only envy and wickedness.

And Steve deserves only the best.

I call her.

I will not allow her to make fun of me and above all to put a spoke in the wheel in my relationship.

"Sharon wait" I approach her walking slowly, I stop a few steps away.

"Listen to me because I'll tell you only once"

She crosses her arms over her chest, our eyes are chained.

All the courtesy that has been between us so far has disappeared.

I start talking again.

"I know there was a flirtation between you and Steve but I want you to get it into your head that he will never come back to you"

Her gaze hardens.

"Steve and I love each other.So much.I just want to ask you to have respect for our relationship.If you don't want to do it for me, do it for him"

This time I'm the one to go away, I pass by her without looking at her.

Her voice stops me.

She is behind me but I don't turn around.

"Do you really think a man like Steve, Captain America, can settle for a little girl like you?If I were you I would not be so calm"

I clench my hands into fists, she wants to make me explode but I will not give her this satisfaction.

"Whatever Sharon"

I go away.

At a brisk pace I leave the building, my heart beats furiously in my chest.

The tears press to come out but I push them back.

I won't cry because of Sharon Carter.

I love Steve and Steve loves me.

Nothing matters.

Nobody matters.

I run through the streets of New York, pushing passersby who give me fiery glances.

I'm tired but I have to get to Avengers Tower as soon as possible.

After all, I don't know how much time I have, Doc Psychopathic might decide to wake me up at any moment.

Or he could kill me.

I run even faster, across the street and a taxi stops a millimeter from me.

The sound of his horn makes me jump.

"Excuse me" I yell as I continue to run.

I'm almost there, I see the large entrance door.

I enter like a fury, my exhausted legs push as hard as I can but my run is interrupted by a voice on my left.

I turn my head away, my lungs burn.

"Sam!Thank goodness!"

I embrace him with enthusiasm.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm glad to see you're okay"

He holds me tight in his arms.

"Bucky and Strange told us everything" the man replies.

"Strange is here?"

"Sure, they're all upstairs.Steve is here too"

As soon as I hear his name come out of Sam's lips, my heart begins to beat even more furiously.

It seems to want to get out of my chest.

"Come sweetheart, I'll take you to them" so saying Sam grabs my hand and drags me into the elevator, once inside I lean my back against the wall and with my hands on my knees I try to catch my breath.

"Are you okay Lily?"

"Yeah.Sure.Give me a moment"

I breathe deeply in search of as much oxygen as possible.

"I came running from Steve's house"

Sam laughs.

"Wow!We have a marathon runner in the team"

I too laugh at his words.

The elevator doors open.

I go out at a fast pace and head quickly to the point where I hear several voices coming from.

I don't even bother waiting for Sam but I hear his footsteps right behind me.

As soon as I approach the door of the meeting room, the only one who notices me is Stark.

"Thank goodness you are safe!" he exclaims attracting everyone's attention.

Three pairs of eyes quickly land on me but the only irises I'm really craving for aren't here.

But another man is here for me.

And it's enough for me.

I run into the room and throw myself into the arms of my father, the only man I want comfort from at this moment.

It was an instinctive gesture but I couldn't help it.

His arms are immediately around me that hold me and reassure me.

"Are you ok?" he whispers in my ear.

I can feel his heartbeat, it's accelerated.

I nod against his chest without answering.

I will tell what I have discovered but not now, I need a moment.

Then that voice.

"Honey?"

I quickly pull away from my father's chest and turn to the door.

On the threshold is Steve.

Handsome as a god, his blue eyes like a Caribbean sea are veiled with tears.

Beside him is Bucky who looks at me with eyes full of relief and a sweet smile on his lips.

Steve advances in great strides overwhelming a chair in front of him, he doesn't even care and continues on his way towards me.

I throw myself into his arms.

My hands on his chest grip his shirt between my fingers.

I burst into a liberating cry.

Steve's arms hold me so tightly that I can barely breathe but I don't care, I'm back with him at last and everything else doesn't matter.

Laundry soap, sun and leather.

The smell of his skin that I had missed so much now fills my nostrils intoxicating me.

"I'm sorry honey, I'm sorry I lied to you.Forgive me" he whispers in my ear with a trembling voice.

"I'm sorry too babe.Sorry"

His arms hold me even tighter as much as possible.

We stay like this for a few moments, then I feel his hands move to the sides of my face, his thumbs dry my tears.

I see him lowering towards me and I go towards him, getting up on tiptoe.

Our lips touch.

A sweet kiss.

Sweet as a welcome home after a hard day's work.

Sweet as the feeling of a fireplace on a stormy night.

I deepen the kiss.

My hands go up behind his neck pushing him more towards me, my lips part and our tongues caress each other sensually regardless of the audience around.

Steve's hands come down to my hips squeezing with possession and desire.

Tony Stark's amused laugh brings us back to reality.

"Ok you two, save yourself for the honeymoon.Otherwise daddy going to have a heart attack here"

So saying he gives a pat on the back of Strange.

My father can't take off his sharp, protective gaze from Steve's figure.

Perfect, we just needed this.

I see Natasha and James smiling in amusement, Doctor Banner looks a bit embarrassed.

"Dude take it easy!Your father-in-law doesn't seem to like it" Sam whispers to Steve.

Thank god no one has heard it besides the two of us.

"Oh shut up Sam" I answer, pushing him playfully.

Now I think the time has come to tell what I have discovered.

It will not be easy.

I sigh and move away from Steve's chest, he looks me in the eye as if to instill all his courage in me.

"I found out where I am" I begin point blank.

Steve at my side gasps, his fingers intertwined with mine increase the grip.

"Where?" Nat asks me.

"I am in Geneva in Switzerland. Dr. McTavish keeps me locked up and sedated in an old fortress used as a private clinic"

"Ok, we can prepare an expedition right away, how many old fortresses can there be in Geneva?It won't be difficult" Tony speaks confidently.

He and Steve exchange a meaningful look, I can see that they love each other.

"I knocked out a dozen men"

I don't know why I say that.

Maybe because I'm afraid of what the Stone has turned me into.

I look down at Steve's hand intertwined with mine.

Then I lift up my gaze to meet his eyes.

I speak without ever taking my attention away from him.

"It was completely involuntary.When all those gunmen surrounded me it was as if the Stone inside me protected my own life.A rush of power knocked everyone out"

"It's completely normal" Bruce intervenes, we all turn to him.

The doctor moves uncomfortably, he doesn't like being the center of attention.

He adjusts his glasses on his nose and continues.

"As far as Thor told us, when the Haeter, the Reality Stone, entered in Dr. Foster attacked anyone who tried to harm her.It's the Stone's way of defending itself"

"Ok.So I'm not...I'm not dangerous, am I?"

This time it's Strange who answers me.

"Absolutely not.You just have to learn to manage its power but there is time for that.We will talk about it in the future"

Steve raises our intertwined hands and kisses the back of my hand.

He turns to his friends in the room.

"I can't ask you that much so anyone who doesn't feel like taking part in this mission I don't blame you"

"I'm in" Bucky is the first to answer.

He walks up to me and grabs my hand, the one free from Steve's grasp.

"I'll be there to save your ass, again"

I roll my eyes and then smile sweetly at him.

"Count on me too" Natasha's voice rings firmly in the room.

I detach myself from the grip of the two men next to me and embrace her.

"I'm sorry I cut you off Nat" I murmur into her ear.

"Forget about it.I don't blame you"

Even if we have known each other recently, I can always count on her.

She is a good friend.

Sam turns to Steve.

"You already know that man.I'll always follow Captain America"

Bruce clears his throat.

"I...I...I'm sorry Steve but I can't.I can't risk him awakening.I'd rather help you from headquarters"

Steve nods.

"It's okay Bruce.No problem"

Poor Bruce, forced to share his existence with his alter ego.

Hulk.

From what my friends have told me it is better not to be around him when he shows up.

Tony shrugs.

"Just give me time to do an inspection and organize the trip"

Strange approaches me, puts a hand on my head.

"When you wake up I'll be by your side, count on it"

After which he exchanges a long look with Steve.

"Now I have to go" my father says turning to Tony.

"I have things to take care of.Keep me updated"

I hug him and with hands movements he opens a portal in front of him and then disappears inside.

"Capsicle I'm afraid her father doesn't like you" Tony says to Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah.I know.I noticed it"

Everyone laughs including me.

"Ok now why don't we all get out of here?" Nat says to everyone present and gradually pushes them out the door.

Steve and I are left alone.

"Thanks me later, lovebirds"

The head of the redhead pokes out from the corner of the door giving us a wink.

I smile at her as Steve shakes his head.

Steve sits down in one of the large chairs around the table.

"Come here" he whispers, holding out his hand.

I grab it and sit on his lap.

His hands surround my back, stroking and massaging it.

"I missed you so much" he whispers and then kisses me.

I reciprocate his kiss, my hands wander across his chest.

I feel him tremble with pleasure, I can feel his erection pressing on my ass.

I feel a fire burning in my gut.

I move on top of him, rubbing my hips.

"Babe, be a good girl" just a warning from his lips, almost a snarl, and I feel my core ignite.

The power of his words makes my soul reverberate.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry" I whisper with my face on fire, my words come spontaneously from my lips.

His hands grab my neck, squeeze strongly.

A pain at the limit of pleasure.

His eyes are veiled with lust as if only with my words I was pushing him to the edge.

I feel him clearing his throat.

"It's okay, I'm not angry"

I kiss him again, bite his lip and then slide my tongue into his mouth.

I seek command of the situation and he gives it to me.

I place my hands at the height of his heart, I feel it beating like a fury.

I break the kiss and place my forehead against him, in this position I turn to him.

"Soon we will finally be together.Really together.And then nothing will keep me away from you, do you know this, don't you?"

I hear him smile.

"I hope so, honey"

This time he's the one kissing me.

Claim my mouth with possession, I can feel his muscular body pressing against mine with desperate urgency.

His mouth descends on my neck tracing an imaginary path with his tongue, his hands caress the contours of my breast.

A shiver runs through my spine.

"Steve?" his name comes out of my lips like a moan.

"Tell me, honey"

"I have to confess something but I'm afraid you'll be mad at me" I whisper with a breath of voice.

He immediately detaches from my body, his hands go up my face.

His bright baby blue eyes watch me full of love.

"Lily, nothing you can do could ever make me mad at you.You could even stab me and I would still love you"

I roll my eyes.

"Exaggerated"

Steve pinches my side and I laughs.

"What would you have done?" he asks me crossing his arms over his chest.

I speak keeping my eyes fixed on my hands playing with the collar of his shirt.

"I talked to Sharon"

"You what?"

I look up at him, he seems obviously amused.

A sly smile curls his beautiful lips.

"I'm serious Steve!Before I got here to the tower I came to your apartment and she was walking out the door of her house.We had a chat and before leaving she asked about the two of us.If we are a couple"

He is looking at me intently

"And what did you answer her?"

"I told her we love each other and she...and she..."

My eyes fill with tears, tears of anger at Sharon.

"Honey what happened?Did she treat you badly?"

"No" I replied in a trembling voice.

"She looked at me and she laughed at my answer, as if it were impossible.As if the idea that you can love me were absurd"

I look down.

Because even if I am sure of Steve's love, there is always that little part of me that is afraid that one day he will tire of me.

"Lily?Lily please look at me"

I feel his hand massaging the middle of my back.

"I love you.You cannot have doubts about this and you must never allow anyone to make this uncertainty grow in your heart"

"I know.In fact, I replied rudely.I'm sorry!I know that she is your friend and you are colleagues at work but I have not been able to keep silent.I told her to step aside from you, that you will never love her"

I look at the wall in front of me, I don't have the courage to meet his gaze.

Then suddenly I hear him laughing, a spontaneous laugh full of hilarity.

I turn to him, his head is thrown back with one hand resting on his chest.

He looks like the portrait of happiness.

"Did you really do it?" he asks me through the tears caused by the excess of laughter.

"Yep" I can not help but I also begin to laugh.

"C'mon Steve, he's not cute" I say.

He hugs me in response, squeezing me against his body.

"I like to know that you claim my possession.It's exciting"

"Oh my God, this is gross babe" I reply laughing.

We remain embraced for a long time.

"I'm not mad at you for what you said to Sharon.I think she deserved it.However, if that makes you feel better, I'll talk to her.Ok?"

I nod against his broad chest.

"I love you Steve.I love you and I am so afraid of what you will face because of me...that man, McTavish, is evil.Please promise me you'll be careful.That all of you will be alert.I would never forgive myself if any of you get hurt.If you get hurt"

I tell him with my voice broken with fear, my hands caressing his beautiful features.

"Don't think about it my love.Everything will be fine and we will finally be together"

"Please Steve just promise me" I beg him.

I hear him sigh.

"I promise, I'll be careful"

Another sweet kiss to seal our promises.

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[primaveraludica]

UNA DEFENSA UTILITARISTA DEL SIMBOLISMO

Primavera Lúdica viene del nutriente de una gama de autores de la llamada sophia perennis y sus comrades que, simplificando, presentan una noción del símbolo no como mera metáfora sino como una versión elevada (espiritualmente) de tal. En la teoría estética de Faretta, analizándola en términos comunes a todos, lo que sucede es que la metáfora se vuelve símbolo tradicional; lo que vale no es hacer uso de metáforas de cualquier tipo, sino específicamente (aunque no solamente) metáforas de un símbolo arcaico: el círculo, la cruz, la simbología de la alquimia (colores), simbología animal (la serpiente, por ejemplo). Roberto Calasso diría que, a través un proceso algo menos metódicamente descrito a comparación de la teoría de Faretta, la obra “capta” a los dioses, se vuelve trascendente. Como en una especie de proceso casi de epifanía, la obra “absoluta”, en términos de Calasso, es la que cataliza al numen lo suficiente como para que cuando experimentemos sus partes nos produzca el erizamiento (que es la experiencia de lo numinoso, el estremecimiento de Lewis, el terror de Jacob frente a la escalera en Bet-El; el terror a lo divino). Nosotros adscribimos a esta forma de ver el arte, pero aquí vamos a hacer una apologética más utilitarista.

El simbolismo (o lo metafórico) para el artista es primeramente lo que le permite rellenar huecos de inseguridad. Siempre que se hace una obra “porque sí”, o improvisadamente sin ningún sentido (en la acepción concreta de la palabra, que no es lo mismo que significado; el sentido es una dirección, “apunto hacia…”, el significado es algo que debería ser concreto, pero que nunca vamos a conocer como espectadores, y creo que ni como artistas, aunque podamos conocer el móvil, es decir, el motivo personal), siempre que se obra de forma meramente superficial, es decir, como artesano material antes que artista íntegro (sin intención de ofender a nadie), hay un grado de inseguridad respecto a lo que creamos. No necesariamente se trata de una inseguridad valorativa, aunque no negamos que pueda ser así en algunos casos (es decir, que a menos que haya un fin simbólico, no pensemos que sea algo “en serio”). Sobre todo se trata de una inseguridad moral. Ser moral (y ser tradicional en un sentido antropológico, no político ni social) se trata de tener una administración íntegra de las cosas que hacemos. Todos los aspectos de la vida (sexualidad, ocio, trabajo, estudio) forman parte de un orden sagrado y una relación con el universo. Si adscribimos al cristianismo, por ejemplo, no podemos tomar los dogmas que nos caen bien y desechar los dogmas que nos caen mal; esto sería usar la Biblia para confirmar lo que ya éramos, por ende no sería confirmarse como un hombre moral-tradicional sino como un solipsista. El conocimiento que se presenta como un placer tiende a ser una ilusión. El tener una organización íntegra de nuestras acciones implica que todas las cosas que hagamos estén en tela de juicio moral, que todas obedezcan a una finalidad única, que “apunten” hacia algo trascendental (tienen un sentido). Para el cristiano, ese “algo” sería la salvación. Así se entiende que exista una inseguridad moral en el arte. A veces, esta inseguridad es tan grande que nos vemos empujados a ser cada vez más explícitos con nuestros mensajes (Killers of the Flower Moon y Silence de Scorsese, por ejemplo). Si se es moral, no se soporta el pensamiento de que cada momento en que se hace uso de la plataforma del arte, no se está diciendo nada. Aun así, esto no quita que sea regla común para todos el hecho de que las personas no se sienten cómodas siendo sermoneadas. Por ende, si queremos comunicar una verdad a la audiencia, debemos imprimirla de forma sutil, para lo que la metáfora es método ideal (y el simbolismo más aún, puesto que es siempre universal, y no depende de un soporte histórico local, sino de conocimiento sagrado, o si somos ateos, del inconsciente colectivo jungiano[1]).

Si usamos la metáfora constantemente estamos “reduciendo el azar a un número parecido a cero”, como diría Faretta; esto se daría no con el uso típico de, por ejemplo, “…estaba rojo como un tomate!”, que sería un modo excesivamente didáctico y obvio, sino con una especie de solapa paralela entre una línea argumental material y una línea simbólica: es decir, por ejemplo, en mi plano pongo en un puente a dos personas, y en principio no es más que eso, dos personas en un puente, pero simbólicamente puede ser el puente como símbolo de unión entre mundos ajenos (el puente en El exorcista, por ejemplo). Esto soluciona mucho porque podemos librarnos de los sermones (y de la pedantería) a la vez que conservamos el juego superficial (y un sentido trascendental). Podemos tener una escena de acción desenfrenada que a la vez esté comunicando simbólicamente otra cosa más; estamos aprovechando el espacio. Imaginemos por otra parte que no tenemos ninguna finalidad moral, en este caso también para el artista perfeccionista el lenguaje simbólico es una herramienta muy útil, puesto que amplía el terreno sobre el cual trabajar: ya no sólo hay que perfeccionarse técnicamente, sino también poéticamente. Para el perfeccionista, todo criterio que achaque las opciones que uno tiene le resulta una táctica para, valga la redundancia, la perfección. Aprender sobre técnica y aprender sobre todo lo demás. Todo esto no quiere decir que tengamos que actuar robóticamente, como quien basa todas sus historias en el camino del héroe, sino más bien actuar como en un “caos controlado”. Como hacer crecer un árbol sanamente, podándolo, pero dejando después que crezca por el misterio de la naturaleza, no por pegar con pegamento ramita por ramita. También supongo que algunas personas argumentarán que el criterio de lo simbólico puede excluir una opción que para el criterio de lo técnico sea la mejor: yo respondo que el verdadero robot es el que supone que hay una “opción óptima según la técnica”. Siempre hay factor de decisión instintiva, incluso viéndonos acorralados por la búsqueda de congruencia simbólica y magnificencia técnica. Si lo entendemos así, entendemos que hay siempre más de una “opción óptima”. Al hacer todo esto estoy amputando toda trascendencia per se del operar simbólico, para que se vea como algo más que inminente charlatanería (que no lo es). Si quitamos toda trascendencia espiritual del operar simbólico, nos encontramos, queramos o no, con un método objetivamente profundizador. El simbolismo no resta nada, siempre suma algo. Hay una especie de vil ardid en las personas que se repugnan cuando alguien elige hacer una interpretación compleja de una obra aparentemente simple (los que leen esto por los videojuegos sabrán que este es, lamentablemente, el caso con Dayo). Que El exorcista trate sobre valores tradicionales perdidos no va a impedirte de disfrutar de la emoción del terror. El exorcista con o sin interpretación simbólica es, materialmente, la misma película. Esta es la maravilla técnica del simbolismo, comunica cosas profundas sin necesidad de aguar el espectáculo.

POSDATA 1: MAGNIFICENCIA

¿Por qué esforzarse en hacer una obra maestra? La respuesta realista, probablemente, sea orgullo, pero tratemos de encontrar una razón más trascendental. Si hablamos en términos de operatividad (es decir, que el artista tiene la responsabilidad de dar un mensaje para mejorar el mundo en algún sentido: espiritual, social, político, religioso etc.), no deberíamos preocuparnos necesariamente por la magnificencia técnica. Las películas de Marvel son técnicamente inferiores a una película de Steven Spielberg, sin embargo las últimas películas de Spielberg tienden a no tener un éxito comercial tan grande como Marvel. En este aspecto, Marvel presenta una plataforma mucho más útil en la inmediatez para dar visibilidad a un mensaje importante, por el simple hecho de que más personas están viendo sus películas. Esto es verdad, pero como dije, sólo en la inmediatez. Hoy en día seguimos leyendo a Franz Kafka, H. P. Lovecraft, Heráclito, o Edgar Allan Poe, y no porque hayan tenido un éxito inmediato e ininterrumpido hasta el día de hoy. La materia que conserva estos textos no es la del espectáculo marvel-iano, que no posee otro modo de llamar la atención más que sirviéndose de las modas fugaces (personajes que adscriban a causismos del momento como el feminismo, o chistes que resuenen con el código de humor del momento), sino algo más. He hecho énfasis en el aspecto técnico, y es verdad que seguimos leyendo a Poe, por ejemplo, en gran parte porque es técnicamente genial, pero no solamente. Posiblemente lo que haga trascender a un clásico sea que opera con símbolos, lo que nos exige una constante renovación de nuestras interpretaciones (ya que buscamos afianzar cada vez más el sentido que buscamos en la obra). También puede ser la sensibilidad con la que describe la condición humana. Son distintas cosas, pero evidentemente producto de un trabajo de aprendizaje e impresión de complejidad de parte del artista. El punto es que vale más dotar de “algo más” a la obra para hacerla trascender temporalmente; el conformismo de Marvel y demás artistas los condena a nunca ser revisionados, por lo que nunca serán clásicos. De nuevo, hablando en términos de operatividad, resulta que la formula Marvel no es tan buena a largo plazo para cambiar el mundo, porque si contamos las relecturas, independientemente de la cantidad de personas hoy vivas que lo hayan leído, Shakespeare es infinitamente más influyente. He aquí mi intento por explicar una razón por la cual intentar complejizar nuestro arte. Si no somos artistas perezosos ni bohemios de línea caótica, solipsista, von-Trier-eana nos regocijaremos, luego de esta reflexión, en la propuesta del simbolismo, la de la construcción de múltiples lecturas a través del uso de símbolos metafóricos (preferiblemente símbolos tradicionales, para más universalidad).

POSDATA 2: IDÓLATRAS

Primero que nada quiero advertir que esta reflexión tiene como propósito, si bien a medida que avanza se va por las ramas, advertir que cuando tenemos una visión positiva absoluta de todo el corpus de obras de un autor, debemos desconfiar, porque esto puede ser síntoma de la falta de criterio.

¿Por qué es incorrecto perdonar todas las obras que haga un artista, por el hecho de ser él? No sólo porque la falsa investidura del autor no garantiza calidad, sino también por una simple cuestión lógica. Si el artista cambia con el tiempo (cosa común), eso quiere decir no necesariamente que su calidad varíe, puesto que rara vez un artista reconoce que su arte ha entrado en decaída (si es que tal cosa existe), sino que su metodología se transforma. El artista no hace peor arte con el tiempo, sino que toma una dirección de transformación que él cree con seguridad que es una evolución positiva. Si nuestra óptica permanece la misma a lo largo de todo esa duración de supuesto empeoramiento, lo único que sucede es que la óptica se descalibra. Elaboremos un ejemplo extremista. Si nosotros basamos toda nuestra teoría estética en Who’s that knocking at my door? (1967)  de Martin Scorsese, con todo lo que conlleva, es decir, tenerla como modelo no sólo por lo simbólico sino también por lo formal (tecnico, musical, actoral, político), es inevitable que para la siguiente película, por el simple hecho de ser distinta en alguno de estos aspectos (tiene distinto soundtrack, por ejemplo) nos parecerá una peor película. El criterio de cada uno, si es que vale de algo, debe estar basado en la observación, es decir, uno echa un ojo a la historia del arte, toma lo que le gusta (o le parece más bueno éticamente) y arma una teoría. En mi caso, mi obra predilecta en el videojuego es Disco Elysium, y la mayoría de mis criterios tienen resonancia positiva con ella. Aún así, puede suceder que con el tiempo Robert Kurvitz evolucione su modus operandi y a mi me parezca que sea algo negativo, por el simple hecho de que opera distinto que en Disco Elysium. Por otra parte, yo he dicho que mis criterios tienen resonancia positiva con Disco Elysium, pero no que todo mi criterio está basado en el análisis de esta obra; mi criterio está basado en la reflexión producida de la observación de muchas obras, con intención de construir el estrato mental de una “élite” de buenas obras (porque un criterio estético siempre es polémico, es decir, decide entre algo considerado “bueno” y algo considerado “malo”, necesariamente). Es por eso que puede suceder que el autor de mi obra predilecta pueda con el tiempo crear obras más afines a mi criterio.

Un ejemplo a corto plazo también puede ser Robert Eggers, director de The Witch (2015), The Lighthouse (2019) y The Northman (2022). Eggers, en The Witch se despliega como un autor que sabe separar la congruencia argumental del mensaje simbólico, separando las “dos historias”; en The Lighthouse esta diferencia se difumina pero no desaparece, por el simple hecho de que la cámara retrata la óptica de un narrador no confiable que puede tener visiones paranormales sin que resulte contra-diegético (podemos ver esto en los cuentos de Poe, que es una gran influencia para Eggers); en The Northman, las diferencias están totalmente pervertidas, por el hecho de que los sucesos argumentales oscilan entre mundanidad y mística, en una relación confusa. He comparado estos únicos tres largometrajes de Eggers bajo cierta óptica de “sutileza”, es decir, una óptica que intenta establecer una gradación de la misma por las relaciones que se establezcan en el argumento entre una línea superficial y una línea simbólica (véase el concepto de las dos historias de Pigna, Faretta o T. S. Eliot para esclarecer esto). Si estamos en contra del equilibrio 1ºhistoria - 2ºhistoria, la última película nos seducirá, y si estamos a favor, la primera (y en The Lighthouse todo un espectro mixto, en el que, por otra parte, yo me encuentro). El punto de todo esto es que se vea cómo una óptica lo único que hace es producir “desfases” o “descalibraciones”, que no necesariamente sea algo malo, porque no tenemos por qué idolatrar a los autores. Los autores son escurridizos, a menudo cambiarán su modus operandi obligándonos a tomar la decisión de aniquilarlos o aceptarlos. Lo que debemos hacer, sin necesidad de claudicar nuestro criterio (en el que, seguramente, tanto trabajamos), por otra parte, es lograr un entendimiento. Yo, personalmente, no acuerdo con el modo de hacer cine que tuvo Eggers en su última película, pero siempre que uno empatice intelectualmente sabrá que siempre hay algo que se intentó decir. En política también sucede lo mismo, véase, que los liberales creen que los socialistas son demonios a favor de la opresión por defender al Estado, y los socialistas creen que los liberales son demonios a favor de la opresión por defender al Capital. No es mi intención vindicar un relativismo político en el que no creo, pero hay que observar que a nivel personal (que nunca, y enfatizo esto, nunca es un nivel intelectual ni político; recordemos la diferencia que Schmitt hace entre enemigo político y enemigo personal) por lo general se mezclan las cosas.

[1] Hoy en día, desde los acercamientos a la cuestión de la simbología tradicional que se hacen desde otras ramas científicas, está la biosemiótica. Si bien en estado primitivo, la biosemiótica se está encargando de demostrar que los símbolos tradicionales tienen una capacidad de transformación comprobable en nuestras acciones.

#ensayo #estética #criticas #videojuegos #art criticism #video games #vidya gaem #literatura

[lunore]

Therion-"The Perennial Sophia"

[laforjaylaespada]

UN NUEVO CONCILIO DE ELROND

UN NUEVO CONCILIO DE ELROND

UN NUEVO CONCILIO DE ELROND… Seguimos mes a mes comentando, con el ínclito club Dünedain, “El señor de los Anillos” Capítulos a capítulo. Y desde las enseñanzas de la doctrina tradicional y la “Sophia Perennis”, la obra más famosa de Tolkien, se nos va mostrando como una auténtica bitácora para comprender qué tiempos son los qué vivimos, cuál la vía a seguir, y cuál debe ser la forja de la…

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#Dünedain #Tolkien

[tides-of-truth]

The one primeval wisdom

Issues forth from

An ever-flowing

Perennial fountainhead

Given at the dawn

Of human evolution

It continues to reveal itself

With every outflow of breath

As it streams forth out of the Now

As life, it becomes many streams

Of teachings and iterations

Of the One great Truth

(And misunderstandings

& distortions that as untruth)

As fragments called history

Scattered throughout time

All are expressions of the Truth

Of the life that flows in

All times and all places

From the opening of Now

Of the Womb of

The Cosmic Mother

The great Mother Womb

Is ring-like & tidal

An unbound and

Undulating ocean

Unbroken existence

A ring that is

Not possible to cross

The tides of the womb ocean

Is diastolic and systolic

Dilating and contracting

Generating a spiral

Of waves of pure energy

That overflow as manifestation

This generative power

In all cosmogonies

Is Mother

Aditi, Sophia, Isis and Mary…

#consciousness #womb #mother #womb wisdom #aditi #spiritual #wisdom #cosmic mother #spirituality #shakti #divinemother #goddess #divinefeminine #heart #yoga #nonduality #meditation #love #witch

[intheageofmediocrity]

“As regards the second aspect of Tradition, one must refer to the doctrinal level. Here the point of reference is that which we may call the hidden transcendent unity of the various traditions. This includes both religious traditions and traditions of a different sort — wisdom or mystery traditions. What has been termed the ‘traditional method’ consists in discovering an essential unity or correspondence of symbols, forms, myths, dogmas and disciplines beyond the various expressions they may take in individual historical traditions. This unity can emerge through an in-depth examination of traditional material: an investigation — it is worth stressing — that constitutes something quite distinct from the research conducted in the so-called comparative study of universal religions, which is limited to the surface and hence has an empirical, as opposed to metaphysical, character.”

Julius Evola, “What ‘Tradition’ Is” in The Bow and the Club (1968)

#julius evola #traditionalism #sophia perennis

[eduardo-liebana]

Y a esta disponible en las librerías

Y a esta disponible en las librerías

“Pocas cosas clave pero certeras: escucha a los otros, madruga, da las gracias y, si puedes, vete al Ártico. Igual esto último no es tan fácil, pero lo primero no debería resultar, a priori, tan complicado”. Erling Kagge explorador y aventurero (1963) Por fin el libro está disponible. Ya lo puedes encargar en tu librería de confianza. Ahora estamos trabajando para organizar la presentación (de…

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#ADVAITA VEDANTA #Editorial José J.de Olañeta #Eduardo Liébana sanador profesional de la Escuela Britanica #eduardo liebana #eduardo liebana sanador #Enseñanzas de Sir ramana maharshi #equipo de sanadores #José J de Olañeta Editor #Ramana Maharshi #sanacion espiritual #sanacion espiritual palencia #sanacion palencia #Sanador profesional Eduardo Liebana #sanadores palencia blog #Sophia Perennis #Sophia Perennis jose j. de olañeta. #sophia pernnis

[clouds-of-wings]

Wizard metal subgenres

Because @nostalgebraist-autoresponder, who’s an AI, invented the genre of “wizard metal” and I thought: I think I’ve been listening to that genre for a couple decades already..?

(True) wizard metal: Fantasy-inspired, dragons, swords, etc., basically synonymous with power metal. Something for old-school wizards who wear pointy hats and blue robes with moon and stars unironically.

Blind Guardian - The Last Candle (live video | album audio) Rhapsody - Unholy Warcry (music video) Nightwish - FantasMic (live video | album audio)

Witch metal: Folky sound, lyrics about blood magic, earth mysteries, trolls etc. Make sure the band lives in a bog or they might be p0sers.

Huldre - Varulv (live video | album audio) Arkona - Slavsia, Rus (music video) Fejd - Härjaren (music video)

Shaman metal - Often seen as a subgenre of witch metal but developed its own sound. Probably by indigenous people and/or from Finland, Russia, Mongolia or a Turkic country or it’s not the real thing. Much throat singing, chanting and drumming.

Tengger Cavalry - Blood Sacrifice Shaman (live video | album audio) Korpiklaani - Tuli Kokko (live video | album audio)

Sorcerer metal: More or less atmospheric black metal, often evil lyrics, black and white aesthetic. Probably satanist or something. I don’t listen to much sorcerer metal tbh, feel free to add a better example.

Summoning - The loud music of the sky (album audio) Sauron’s early work (my involved Tolkien meta that I just have to plug. Only of interest if you read the Silmarillion.)

Magician metal: The more modern-minded cousin of wizard metal who decided sky blue robes were cringe and fireballs were too showy but the whole “master of the arcane” vibe was definitely worth keeping. Lyrics about occultism, often with a gothic sound.

Therion - The Perennial Sophia (live video | album audio) Tiamat - Visionaire (live video | album audio)

Enchanter metal: Also called bard metal. Not very heavy. Metal that wonders what it can do for you. Until the magic takes effect of course. Then you’re the hapless summoned creature that has to fight an ogre while the bard flees.

Falconer - Waltz with the Dead (album audio) Blind Guardian - The Bard’s Song (studio live video)

#power metal #symphonic metal #wizard metal #symphonic power metal #gothic metal #music stuff #i have zero problems starting AND ending this list with blind guardian #in fact i'm gonna tag them #blind guardian #peak wizard metal #also someone define warlock metal plz #i'm out of ideas #folk metal

[arcane-offerings]

https://www.ebay.com/itm/254856050624 Jean Borella. The Crisis of Religious Symbolism and Symbolism & Reality. Translated by G. John Champoux. Kettering, OH: Angelico Press/Sophia Perennis, 2016. Paperback edition. 441 pages.

[defjux]

A selection of hip hop releases that i’ve enjoyed so far in 2020. Only the top 15 or so are really in order but i think they’re all quality & worth checking out. These are strange times and a lot of folks are stuck inside anyway, so why not take a chance on something you’re unfamiliar with?  As always, you can click on the name of a project below and it’ll take you to a stream or bandcamp page where you can hear and/or purchase it. Peace. Spotify Playlist Chart w/ album titles R.A.P. Ferreira & The Jefferson Park Boys - Purple Moonlight Pages Ka - Descendants of Cain zeroh - BLQLYTE Curly Castro & Premrock  - Shrapknel Serengeti & Kenny Segal - AJAI Quelle Chris & Chris Keys - Innocent Country 2 Iceberg Theory & August Fanon - Sophia Perennis Ialive - I'll Wait Forever Clear Soul Forces - ForcesWithYou The Doppelgangaz - G Pack, Vol. 2 Spectacular Diagnostics - Raw Unknown Akai Solo - Ride Alone, Fly Together lojii & Swarvy - Due Rent (Blends) Elucid - SEERSHIP! Vic Spencer - Psychological Cheat Sheet Tree - The Blue Tape Bxnjamin - Some Colour Us Mad Big Ghost Ltd - Carpe Noctem Navy Blue - Àdá Irin K.A.A.N. & FloFilz - Lost In Translation Westside Gunn - Pray For Paris lojii - lo&behold Uptown XO - Culture over Corporate Boldy James & The Alchemist - The Price of Tea In China cunabear - Spirit Animal Club​-​House Madlib & Oh No - The Professionals The Four Owls - Nocturnal Instinct CRIMEAPPLE - Jaguar On Palisade Onoe Caponoe - Invisible War Moodie Black - Fuzz Chris Crack - White People Love Algorithms Chong Wizard - The Mind Stone Fly Anakin - at the end of the day. The Leonard Simpson Duo - LSD QThree - Yesterday Is Over MidaZ The BEAST - Where The Sidewalk Ends Denzel Curry x Kenny Beats - UNLOCKED Elaquent - Forever is a Pretty Long Time Skyzoo & Dumbo Station - The Bluest Note MEDHANE - Full Circle Rav x KB x Scuare - SKIN Rhys Langston - Language Arts Unit Instrumentals/Beat Tapes: Knxwledge. - 1988 Graymatter - Danger Room Instrumentals  Kutmah - New Appliance Small Professor - let’s go inside my astral plane Ohbliv - Bradventure: The Sequel Dillon - Clean Plate Vol. 4 Tuamie - Hold On, Be Strong EAR.DRUM aka QThree - Deaf Tricks  Constrobuz - Zehn Es-K - Only So Much Time wowflower - brodies attestupa

#2020 hip hop releases #rap ferreira #zeroh #ka #shrapknel #serengeti #kenny segal #quelle chris #clear soul forces #music recommendations

[breaniebree]

Talking about my love for my OC with @xxqueenofdragonsxx​.  This is my Zahira as best as I can make her, though someone awesome may be drawing me some amazing fan art of her so fingers crossed. 

ZAHIRA ZELENA ZACARIAS (ZEE):

Magizoologist, works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for the Ministry of Magic.

Born 9th April, 1964 to parents Michael Ivanovich (Misha) Zacarias and Magnolia Jackson Zacarias.  Misha, a Muggleborn Russian Auror who is following the trail of a dark wizard and finds himself in Paris where he meets the American witch Magnolia Jackson.  They fall in love and get married and Magnolia moves to Moscow to be with him and then when Zee is six, her mother is killed.  

I think that it was a gruesome death, a curse that tortured her for days before she finally succumbed to her death.  They were living in Russia at the time and Zee was with her Baba and Deda, as she was only six, and her mother had gone into town to do some shopping.  The dark wizard was stalking her and cursed her.  She was left alone in an alley to die and wasn’t found for almost six hours, by then, the curse had taken over too much of her and any attempt at saving her life was impossible.  She’d lost her mind and Zee was never able to say goodbye.  Magnolia didn’t even recognize Misha when he found her which was part of why it hurt Misha so much to lose her in the end.

Misha meets Sorcha Brown when Zee is eight, a freelance journalist from Scotland. Zee grew up travelling between Scotland and Moscow and she always loved animals.  She spent her summers visiting her American grandparents on their ranch in Toccoa, Georgia where her grandmother owns a 50s diner called Flo’s and her grandfather is chief of police.  Her stepmother is the mother she grew up with.  Mama, seeing Zee’s love for animals always allowed her to bring home strays.  Her father continued to work in Russia, travelling back and forth via international portkey every day when they spent time in Scotland.  And when it came time for her to go to school, they decided to send her to the wizarding school in Russia — the Koldovstoretz School of Magic because it had such an amazing Care of Magical Creatures program.  She speaks fluent French, Russian, and Mermish because of her upbringing and her career and a little bit of Greek.

She has 4 tattoos:

Gold and green tribal elephant on right side of ribs

Red and gold dragon across spine

Black niffler on back of her neck

Zee tattoo over scar - deep green vines with bright blue orchids scattered from the top of her left hip down the side of her thigh, wrapping around her knee, Lady Godiva hidden in the vines covering her scar lying on a bed of blue orchids ending at her ankle.  I AM WOMAN written on one side, HEAR ME ROAR, written on the other.

Zee found him napping on the sofa and she smiled at the sight of him, bending to kiss his forehead.  Her curls tickled his face, a small smile on his lips.  Not wanting to disturb him, she hurried upstairs to pack the rest of her bag.  She changed into a short halter dress over her new bikini and was admiring her calf in the mirror when he came in.

His eyes met hers in the mirror and the look in them sent desire raking through her.

“When did you get home?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago?  You looked so peaceful having your nap.”

“I was resting my eyes,” he said, making her grin.

“Right.”

Sirius moved towards her, his eyes trailing down her body.  “You look fucking gorgeous.”  His gaze stopped on her leg, a brow rising.  “You got a new tat?”

Zee held onto his arm as he picked up her leg to examine the new tattoo.  She had gotten Lady Godiva.  She’d done her panther’s sleek form in a dark black outline but other than her golden eyes, she’d coloured the panther in with flowered camouflage.  Purple perennials and pink tulips, red roses and blue lilacs that brightened her leg and covered every inch of the ugly burn scar to the back of her knee.  Deep green vines and leaves surrounded the outline of the panther, framing the words written down either side of the panther in cursive: I Am Woman and on the other side it continued with: Hear Me Roar.

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” Sirius murmured, his fingertips tracing the words. 

“Yeah?”  Zee said.  “I didn’t want to look at my burn anymore so I wanted to cover it with something beautiful.”

“And the Reddy lyrics?”

She grinned.  “Points to you.”

Sirius let go of her leg and bent his head to kiss her.  “I love it.  But you were sexy with the scar too.”

Zee slipped her arms around his neck.  “And that, Mr Black, is one of the many reasons why I love you.”

Sirius slid his hands up her back into her hair.  “Let’s go shag on the beach.”

She laughed as he let her go and picked up their bags.  “Sounds perfect.”

As he walked out the door, she couldn’t help but think that she had never loved anyone more than the man before her.  She didn’t know what the future held for her, but she did know that her future was nothing without Sirius Black and Harry Potter. (Excerpt from A Second Chance, chapter 213)

Zee’s wand was made by Gregorvich and it is chestnut as the wood meshes with her love of animals, I think it’s short like her, only 15 cm  in length and her core is from a coral reef.  Her wand core gives the owner patience, someone with a coral reef core knows how to bring things to fruition, provide protection for all, as well as generate longevity.  They have a knack for deflecting disaster, whatever form it takes.  They are also loving, nurturing, and healing; are a source of enduring friendship and support and often the glue that holds the ship together.  I thought it sounded very much like Zee.

She stands no taller than 156 cm (roughly 5′1 and 3/4) and often wears 4 inch heels as if she was born in them, preferably her heeled cowboy boots.  She has long dark brown hair with golden caramel highlights mixed through it.  Her grandmother on her mum’s side was African-American so her skin is like a caramel toffee.  She loves bright red lipstick and big earrings.  She wears a white gold and turquoise turtle belly button ring and usually has smaller hoops or studs in her ears above the big hoops.  As shown above and mentioned before, she is very curvy, hourglass and I picture her body type like Jaydah Doll, but her face is the gorgeous model at the top (I saw her and thought Zee).

Her pet is a panther named Lady Godiva.  She rescued her from Muggles who were hunting her and her pack in Kenya.  Her parents were killed and she was the only cub that she could find so she nurtured her and kept her safe.  Why Godiva?

“I always admired her bravery; standing up for what she wanted and doing the only thing that she could do at the time to make her stand.  No one would listen to her and she had no power and no ability to use weapons.  She wasn’t a witch with powers to sway them so she set out on a horse, completely nude, and she got the attention she wanted.  She made her mark.  I found Lady Godiva in Kenya, hiding from the Muggles who had shot and killed her family, when I rescued her and confronted the Muggles, she jumped from my arms and stood in front of me, growling at them, almost daring them to fight her to get to me.  I thought that she was making her stand, a cub with no power of her own, but she was trying.  So I named her Godiva.” (Excerpt from A Second Chance, chapter 65)

Her grandfather on her dad’s side was a Muggle and veteran of the Second World War.  He drove a 1937 BSA M20 and it’s hers now.  She loves motorcycles and getting her hands dirty.  She’s an incredible cook.  She likes to read mystery, horror, and romance novels.  She travels for her job and has been all over the world, but has recently been enjoying her time working in the menagerie within the Ministry of Magic and helping to organize it.

As to the Koldovstoretz School of Magic, I like to think it’s hidden somewhere deep in Russia and that it looks like the ruins Balga Castle to prevent anyone from finding it, but when you get through the warding it opens up and looks the Vologda Kremlin and Saint Sophia Cathedral, just gorgeous Russian architecture -- but not as large as Hogwarts’ castle.  It says that they played a version of Quidditch there where they flew on uprooted trees instead of broomsticks -- which is another reason why I think Zee was never big into playing the sport herself.  Also I imagine her as short and curvy, which means she may not have great balance on a broom, and she loves riding the motorbike and likes the Muggle machine more than a broomstick if she has to choose.

As to her family tree:

The Jacksons:

Colten (Muggle) and Florence Jackson

Daughter Magnolia Jackson Zacarias (deceased) married to Michael (Misha) Zacarias with one daughterZahira Zelena Zacarias

The Zacarias’:

Ivan and Anya Zacarias (Muggles – Ivan was the soldier in WWII with the motorbike that he gave to Zee)

1. Michael (Misha) Ivanovich Zacarias m. Magnolia Jackson Zacarias (d) m. Sorcha Brown Zacarias

(a) Zahira Zelena Zacarias eng. Sirius Orion Black

(i) Harry James Potter

(ii) Twin 1 and Twin 2 Black (due January 1997)

2. Olga Ivanova Zacarias Petrov m. Dimtri Petrov

(a) Mikhail Petrov m. Ana Ivanov

(i) Yuri Petrov (11)

(b) Mila Petrov Sokolov m. Nicholas Sokolov

(i) Nastasia Sokolov (9)

(ii) Dinara Sokolov (6)

3. Sasha Zacarias Blok m. Yerik Blok

(a) Tanya Blok Fedorov m. Alek Fedorov

(i) Eva and Irina (twin girls identical) (2)

(b) Tatiana Blok eng. Iosif Kuznetsov

The Browns:

Callum and Fiona Brown

Brian Brown m. Jocasta Fitzgibbons

(a) Dougal Brown m. Ellen Smith

(i) Jenny Brown (24)

(ii) Ian Brown (22)

Sorcha Brown m. Misha Zacarias

(a) Zahira Zacarias

Names for Family Members:

Ivan & Anya = Baba and Deda

Tetya = auntie

Dyadya = uncle

Misha & Sorcha = Papa and Grandmama

Colt & Flo = Grandpa and Grandma

Callum & Fiona = Gran and Grandda

Basically, I love her and I’m so glad that other people have come to love her as much as me.

Zeerius is my canon.

@velvethopewrites​ thank you for loving her enough to put her in your Muggle AU.

#a second chance #harry potter fanfiction #breanie #original character #zee zacarias oc #sirius and zee #zeerius