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(visions) of strange cities, of sandy plains, of gigantic ruins, of midnight skies with strange bright constellations, of mountain-passes, of grassy nooks flecked with the afternoon sunshine through the boughs: I was in the midst of such scenes, and in all of them one presence seemed to weigh on me in all these mighty shapes - the presence of something unknown and pitiless. For continual suffering had annihilated religious faith within me: to the utterly miserable - the unloving and the unloved - there is no religion possible, no worship but a worship of devils. And beyond all these, and continually recurring, was the vision of my death - the pangs, the suffocation, the last struggle, when life would be grasped at in vain. ("The Lifted Veil") ↗
But its exclusive character and irreconcileable hostility to the religious cults and ceremonies with which the whole social life of the city-state and the empire were inseparably connected at every turn, brought the Christians into inevitable conflict with the government and with public opinion. To the man in the street, the Christian was an anti-social atheist who would take no part in the public feasts and the games, which played such a large part in city life. To the authorities he was a passive rebel, who would neither take his share of municipal offices nor pay loyal homage to the Emperor. Hence the rise of persecution, and the driving of the Christians into an underground existence, as a proscribed sect. The Church grew under the shadow of the executioner's rods and axes, and every Christian lived in the peril of physical torture and death. The thought of martyrdom coloured the whole outlook of early Christianity. But it was not only a fear, it was also an ideal and a hope. For the martyr was the complete Christian, he was the champion and hero of the new society and its conflict with the old, and even the Christians who failed in the moment of the trial - the lapsi - looked on the martyrs as their saviours and protectors ↗
My dearest girl,' said the vampire finally, examining Lord Maccon with an exhausted but appreciative eye, 'such a banquet. Never been one to favor werewolves myself, but he is very well equipped, now, is he not?' Miss Tarabotti gave him an arch look. 'My goodies,' she warned. Humans,' chuckled the vampire, 'so possessive. ↗
She hated him, this man, and these men: the ones who picked her up without expression and used her without emotion. The ones who picked her up with no more regard than they had for picking lint off the collars of their well-pressed suits. She preferred the sweaty nervousness of young virgins or the eager speediness of excited old vets with their knobby fingers and waxy breath to these cold, hard men. These were the ones who called her squaw. Who called her half-breed, the ones who would just as soon slap her than bother to put on the condom she always handed them. She often wondered why they didn’t just keep the $80 it cost to be with her and drive their comfortable, bucket-seated SUVs home to the suburbs. They could kiss their wives hello and then slip into very hot showers to jerk off for free. Their peckish wives could spend the money they saved spending an afternoon getting the silk wraps and pedicures that would goad them into putting out anyways. To these men she had no name and no face. She was a hole. Consequently, she held no regard for these bastards. She gave them the calculated respect accorded to dangerous dogs. ↗
#canadian-literature #cherie #dimaline #first-nations #theytus
Do you wanna go out for lunch? In celebration?” I asked and then touched my lips in thought. “Or we could swing by the store and get something really good for dinner?” Wesley glanced at me sideways with a puzzled expression I couldn’t figure out. He looked back at the road. “Maybe later,” he said, chewing on his thumbnail. “Why? Since we’re out, we might as well stop….” “We can’t right now. There are things I have to do first,” he said, looking at me with a grin. “What?” I asked, innocently walking into his trap, though I should’ve known better by now. “Like take you home and fuck you up, down, and sideways,” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ↗
I love all bars, not just gay bars,” Evan said. It was the first time he’d ever admitted this aloud to anyone. “I love bars where there are men drinking and looking for nothing but casual sex. I love that hungry look in their eyes and the way they smell and feel. I love the way they look at me. The first time I ever went into a bar I felt as if I’d gone home again. I’d never felt so comfortable in my life. All the stress and anxiety and problems in the world disappeared within those dark walls. And that was a straight bar. When I started going to gay bars and I realized the power I had over other men there, it felt as if I’d won the lottery and nothing was beyond my reach. Combine that feeling of elation with vodka and you get the most fantastic concoction the universe has ever known. But it’s gets tired after a while, and soon you begin to block out reality and nothing else matters but getting drunk and pleasing other men. It reaches the point where you can’t stop thinking about your next drink. And I just can’t do it anymore. I want to know what it’s like to walk past a bar and not feel as if I’m going to shatter into a million little pieces. I’m turning thirty years old soon and I know deep down that if I don’t get it right this time I might not get another chance. ↗
#gay-erotic-romance #m-m-romance #the-wall-street-shakr #home
Wade sighed. “I’ll never understand why women wear bras to start with. They look uncomfortable as hell.” “They’re not that bad.” “Turn around so I can fasten the damn thing for you.” She refused to let go. Suddenly it seemed important to do this one small task alone. “I can do it, Wade. I need to get used to doing things with this cast.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her struggle. “Is it so hard to ask for help from me, Gracie?” She tried the two small hooks once more, but failed to get them both attached. “No, it’s just that I’m not used to people offering, I guess.” He moved around her and helped fasten the contrary hook. When she turned to tell him thanks, he placed his finger over her lips and murmured, “If you thank me, I’ll spank you. Knowing I haven’t been able to catch your stalker, that he broke into your home and trashed your things and I wasn’t able to stop him makes me feel as fucking useless as tits on a bull. The least I can do is fasten your bra. ↗
I'd love to, she finally said,"on one condition." I steadied myself, hoping it wasn't something too awful. "Yes?" "You have to promise that you won't fall in love with me." I knew she was kidding me by the way she laughed, and I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, I had to admit, Jamie had a pretty good sense of humor. I smiled and gave her my word. ↗
Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more intoxicating than he already did. But a leather clad Ren standing next to the gorgeous racing motorcycle holding his helmet made my brain go numb. I had kind of a this-is-your-brain-on-drugs moment, only mine was more like a this-is-your-brain-on-seeing-Ren-in-tight-leather moment. If they’d been smart, the Ducati Company should have used him in a commercial and given him the bike for free. ↗
He studied my appearance carefully. “You cut your hair.” “Yes. Do you like it?” “That depends. How long is it?” I pulled a curl down and showed him it ended just past my shoulder. He grunted, “That’s still long enough, so I like it.” “Long enough for what?” “Long enough for a man to run his hands through. ↗
