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matchamorphosis · 3 years

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 || move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along.

cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums.

reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat.

despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink.

these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you.

the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning.

they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front-

for my darling

they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads.

smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you.

the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.

of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience.

in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire.

the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet.

listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand.

then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment.

it’s all beautifully cinematic

the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes.

frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau?

it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture.

you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens.

singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon.

the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record.

pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift.

each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into.

Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands.

entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite.

dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie.

rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand.

the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet.

burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds.

giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you.

the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’.

not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well-

your first time

a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch...

generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging.

Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms.

the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.

it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed.

wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice

yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought.

should you call Steven?

it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head.

you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart.

when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

“Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles.

your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

“how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears.

striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

“alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance.

pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail.

“oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?”

“absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care.

you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

“will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

“‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

“lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

“yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door.

“I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

“mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

“are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

“n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

“don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule.

“yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

“without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

“y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips.

not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

“mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.

coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

well, his pussy

“yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face.

it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

“how can I say no to you doll?”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my storybook || aka my masterlist!

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egelantier · 3 years

Text

Tian Guan Ci Fu

where is it and what is it

it’s a chinese webnovel by mxtx, the same author who did untamed; it exists as a webnovel, finished and kindly translated here, the manhwa, the donghua (animated adaptation) happening right now, and there’s a live action adaptation in plans, directed by the same guy who did untamed. the donghua is gorgeous, the adaptation i’m unsure about but prepared to be hopeful, the manhwa seems to be very pretty. but all the adaptations only cover the very beginning of the novel for now, so i went ahead and read the novel, and i have no regrets. it helps that the translation is very good - not without awkward translatorese, but it has consistent and engaging flow and style, and it’s also pretty good at conveying mxtx’s humor without awkwardness. it reads pretty well.

what’s it about?

the world is split into two parts: mortals and various ghosts and demons and entities share the land, while ‘heaven officials’, aka gods, live in the heavenly kingdom in the sky. pretty much anybody can become a god if they do something really heroic or memorable and/or cultivate (meditation, training, virtuous behavior) really hard. when above, the gods rule their domains and fulfill their believers’ wishes; they work sort of like pratchettian gods, dependent on their followers’ beliefs and getting influenced by them. heavens are strictly hierarchical, with their own economy and pecking order, and the gods aren’t particularly sinless or benevolent; mostly it’s a question of scale.

our hero, xie lian, is a prince of a prosperous kingdom who’s been on a fast track to ascension for most of his very short life; he��s talented, he’s virtuous, he’s kind, he’s strong, and his only peculiar flaw is (somehow naive, but well-meaning) obsession with equality and value of human lives and so on. he becomes a god, unexpectedly, at seventeen, after slaying one especially dangerous god, and rises in heaven at the peak of his faith, influence and happiness.

…and then he finds out about drought and incipient trouble in his own kingdom, and, being a young and righteous god too close to his mortality, eschews heavens and returns to save everybody. it, to put it lightly, does not go well. at all. in fact, it goes catastrophically wrong, and, having lost everything, xie lian ascends again, only to get into a fight with the heavenly emperor, and get banished again, this time for good. he roams the mortal lands for next eight hundred of very lonely, luckless and hard years, technically immortal but not invincible, with his powers and his luck stripped away, and leans to make do, eking out a living as a scrap collector. his temples are desecrated, his name is forgotten, his kingdom is long gone, and - well. so it goes.

so it goes! until one day, to everybody’s great surprise, he ascends once again: a humble, gentle, immune to embarrassment, unflappable man, an embarrassment to heavens, a 'laughingstock of three realms’ who just wants to be left well enough alone. he’s Tired.

instead of rest, he gets sent to investigate a dangerous ghost stealing brides who pass through its mountain, and there, during the course of the interrogation, has his first (he thinks) meeting with a terrifying, old-powerful and vengeful ghost king named hua cheng, who likes to terrorize heavens from time to time. but said ghost king seems to be very benevolent and very interested in helping xie lian, and xie lian is pretty instantly smitten… with knowing what’s the cause of such interest.

…and meanwhile, in the beginning, there'was an unlucky boy, born under the worst stars, whom xie lian saved from falling once, while still mortal, and promptly lost track of. a lot of things happened to this boy, who wanted to be the most devoted worshipper to xie lian the god of the sword and the flower. as one does, you know.

that’s the beginning! from there on: investigations, heavenly secrets, old friends and enemies and acquaintances, thematic parallels, old tragedies, more pining than you can shake a stick at, grand acts of love.

is it good?

it’s very, very good. it’s the first fantasy cnovel i read (aside from the hilarious one about a guy traveling back in his own timeline and becoming a sugar baby to a mafia boss, which was in a very different league), so i don’t know which things are baseline and which things are unique, but it had a very solid foundation: ambitious multilevel, multi-timeline plot coming together in the end both events- and emotions-wise, beautifully iddy main relationship, maybe multifaceted characters who change and grow and clash together in fun ways, a clear and heartfelt understanding of its own core themes.

it’s also, unexpectedly, very funny, in this visual, slapsticky, begs-to-be-adapted way - i found myself laughing out loud over it a lot of times, and it possesses this gift of swerve between understated but earnest emotions and all-out jokes that i associate with… a bit of prattchett and a bit of gintama, honestly. take it as you will.

(oh my god the mecha. i will laugh over this one until i die.)

it also made me cry several times; granted, it’s not like it’s this time, but those were very heartfelt tears.

and the main duo?

first let me say that xie lian was lifted out, wholesale, out of my deepest character preferences. he fell really, really far, and did some bad things, and some very horrible things were done to him, and by the time we meet him he went through everything and achieved this effortless kind of traumatized, humble, accepting, wryly self-deprecating, utterly competent chill that makes a character incredibly appealing to me. he’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s gotten any possible embarrassment at least a couple of centuries ago, and he kinda made peace with himself and kinda didn’t. i love him.

and, thankfully for me, hua cheng, the ghost king, loves him a whole damn lot, a ridiculous amount, an epic, over-the-lifetimes, life-shattering amount, and he’s a terrifying presence to everybody else and a shy, protective, sweet dork to xie lian, and every time they’re together on page my entire heart is just. it’s AMAZING. he’s a great combination of playing the obsessive protective yandere stalker-lover trope straight and putting it on its head, by making hua cheng not just revere but respect xie lian, in all his good and bad decisions.

they are just so - good for each other, holy shit. they get each other so well. they’re the best ever power team. i love them.

(the rest of canon is various character reenacting “really? in front of my salad?” meme at them. it’s hysterical, and it’s the best. everybody teams up to tell xie lian that his boyfriend is Problematic way, way before xie lian clues into the fact that he does have a boyfriend, and he’s having none of it. i love it.)

and the themes?

okay, so. roughly half of this novel is ridiculous iddy pining, and a fourth of it is various tropes (off the top of my head: soulbond, sex pollen, body switch, de-age, various shades of identity porn… crossdressing…) played very shamelessly. but it also really benefits from having an overarching set of ethical questions, and while it deals with them a bit shounen-style, it still deals with them, and it makes the whole text fresh, and sweet, and bold.

is it possible to save everybody? should you try to save everybody? if you lack the powers to back your convictions, does it make you complicit? when is it possible to stop the cycle of suffering, what can you do if you want to but can’t? if you tried and people you failed turned on you, whose fault it is, where does the blame stop?

Detailed spoilers begin from here, and i would REALLY advise to stay unspoiled, because the domino reveals are very fun

i loved the various ways the novel sets all those pieces up and then overturns them and then returns to them. xie lian wanted to save everybody and it was arrogant naivete of an untried, untested, privileged young man who never had a real challenge before; his presence made things escalate quicker, and yet everybody around him pretended it was his attempt to make things better that ruined everything, and not a combination of factors outside of his control. and yet he accepts the blame, because it dovetails with his shame at not having enough powers to back his intent up; and yet his triumph over bai wuxian is that he doesn’t, after all, renege on his initial drive to help people.

my most favorite part of this novel is that its turning point, the lynchpin of the whole novel, the moment that keeps xie lian’s soul and safety intact, is not his personal purity and drive; it’s not even hua cheng’s devotion and sacrificial love. it’s just a moment of little, grudging, human kindness from a little, petty, rude man whom the history will sweep away soon. the bamboo hat in the rain. the rest of the plot keeps twisting and turning and coming back to itself, but this? this was unquestionably, beautifully clear, and i loved it. it’s never about the gods, it’s all down to - fallen human is human, ascended human is human, and human is not some state, virtuous or sinful, you get stuck with - it’s a multitude of choices, and there’s never a final one.

and incoherent spoilery screaming for people who read it already

oh my god i had SO MUCH FUN. i’ve been flailing on meme for days, because somebody just finished reading there too, and i’m still bursting with ALL THE FEELS. ruoye origins oh my god! that hat! jin wu’s backstory and ultimate end! e-ming’s praise kink! pei ming’s little shippery 'hoho’! hua cheng’s horribly handwritten stick and poke tattoo of xie lian’s name! the lanteeeeeeeeeeeeerns. feng xin and mu qing on the bridge, making up with each other and with xie lian! hua cheng trying to explain to xie lian that his habit of using himself as bait and pincushion at any given moment is deeply emotionally upsetting to him, and succeeding! banyue’s learning from xie lian to be a truly horrible cook! the entire deal with shi qingxuan and he xuan and the wind fan in the end. THE CAVE. THE GIANT MECHA. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and i am beset, beset by feelings. come scream with me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #cdramas #cnovels #mxtx

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fangirlyah · 4 years

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✦ a friendship by letters - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a friendship formed in childhood, a friendship that survived the riskiest adventures ... what will happen when they separate and their only contact is letters? word counter: 2,674

warnings: abandoned parents

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

digory kirke had raised you after being abandoned by your family. when world war II came to england, food was scarce. you were barely three when your parents took you to have a tea afternoon with your favorite uncle, but they never came back to pick you up. at first you didn’t understand, why had they abandoned you? people should not leave the people they love, that's what your fairytales said; but this wasn't a story, it was reality.

digory took care to keep you safe and with everything you needed. the years went by and your parents had become a vague memory, you no longer had remorse for them; a three-year-old girl had seemed a nuisance to them at the time.

when you turned eight, you got the first letter from them; they had started a new family, they had a pair of twins with blue heavenly eyes, they looked a lot like you. your little person wondered if they would see the resemblance and leave them too. despite the confusing news, that birthday was the best of your entire childhood, because an even better news had arrived. after all these years, you’d have some kids to be with. kirke had taken care of your education so you’d never had another friend than your uncle and the people who worked for him. the day the pevensies arrived was cloudy, a typical english day, with a small drizzle that would get wet from time to time.

they were well-dressed and with dubious faces, they were more confused to see a sweet girl waiting for them at the door of the cottage.

"hi, it’s nice to meet you!" you shook hands with them politely, despite your enthusiasm.

"we didn’t know there would be more children" one of the children, with freckles on his pale cheeks, looked at you from top to bottom, it didn’t seem much older than you but he seemed to judge you with just a few words.

"don’t be rude, edmund!" the other boy gently pushed his head, he looked like the oldest of them all.

the four of them were very nice, some more than others but they treated you well. you used to play in the big courtyards and take classes together. you had discovered each other’s personality shortly after your arrival; you were very observant. peter was the loudest talker, if it was a sports team he’d be the leader. but susan was not left behind, she was very smart and knew a lot about all the topics they talked about during meals. edmund didn’t talk much but he wasn’t quiet, of the four he was the most serious and acid but he wasn’t a bad kid. and finally lucy, she was a walking ray of sunshine, with that no further description was needed.

"why can’t we see the old man?" edmund was at your side as the two of you walked down the dirt road. the cook had ordered you to go in search of bread and milk.

"his name isn't old man, his name is digory kirke…” as they moved on and crossed people, edmund was surprised as every redneck seemed to know you.

"you said he raised you, how did he raise you if you never saw him?"

"yes I saw him, we spent all our time together...but now he’s busier than before"

"but...where are your parents?" edmund’s childish mind thought she was there for the same reason as them; perhaps, he wanted to think that her mother was a nurse and her father a soldier, that would be to have heroic parents. but your look got lost in the trees on your side as you didn’t answer, instead you said,

"race to the store!"

that was your first interaction. thanks to that race your friendship was forged, after two weeks of them living in your house.

your last interaction was the day they returned to finchley. the chaos continued, but was not enough to keep them away from home, so they had to leave. the four of them were on the cart thrown by a horse, ready to go to the train station; lucy greeted you, already sitting, fluttering her little hand. peter left you a kiss on the forehead and susan hugged you tight.

when edmund’s turn came, your eyes watered down, provoking ed to shed a tear. you had become best friends, everything that had happened in narnia had brought you together more than ever; you had grown up together, even though you then returned to your little child body.

"I packed you a book I found in the library, it’s about narnia," you whispered when you hugged him. "take good care of him"

"with my life" so you saw them leave, as they greeted you waving their arms as you did the same.

time went by and years flew away. years when the only contact between you and the pevensies, especially edmund, was letters. letters that came and went every week, so they grew together but apart.

when you turned 13, you started high school. your joy was so immense that the first thing you did was write to your great friend.

‘my dearest edmund

I have great news. this year I will start high school in a school. a real school! uncle took me yesterday to buy my supplies and uniform. is unreal!

how are you, lucy, peter and susan? I miss them too, I miss you and narnia. how's school? is it tiring to live there? I hope not because my school is a boarding school too. I hope to see you soon

y/n"

the letter arrived two days later in edmund’s school room. his heart exploded because of the great happiness it gave him, you would have other friends and you could live a normal teenage life. he immediately wrote you a letter expressing his joy.

my dear y / n,

I also miss you more than you imagine and reading you so happy about your new school makes me want to run to hug you. I know I can't, I imagine it and I enjoy it just the same.

we are all fine, school is always the same. boring. but in the boarding school, I know that you will have fun and will make many friends.

i care about you

yours, edmund.

when you started school, the sending of letters began to be less frequent. the correspondence between the secondary schools was slow, which made it difficult to communicate. the letters took weeks to arrive, between two and three. on a saturday afternoon, he got his first letter of yours after weeks.

‘dear ed,

the mail sucks! all the letters I was sending you didn’t reach your school, I know because they were all returned to my address. I’m tired of this, I want to see you and go to narnia again...

in other news, you remember I made two friends? well, they introduced me to roger. he’s very friendly and he always accompanies me to all the classes, but well...I’m happy to make friends.

In a few days it’s the christmas ball and I’d like us to go together...i mean, the five of us. I know it’s not possible, but it’s a nice idea.

tell me about yourself.

with love, y/n!’

edmund still did not know why but, after reading the letter, an anger invaded him, he even thought he would explode. who was roger? would you go to the ball with roger?

"I had it sorted" said peter, looking at him, while waiting for the train, edmund just rolled his eyes.

"since when do you get into fights, edmund?" lucy looked at him from across the bench. "since he received the letter from y/n the other day" said his bigger sister moving her eyebrows coquettishly.

"why don’t you shut up, susan?!"

"both of you shut up!" peter screamed when everything around him started to disappear.

out of nowhere, the four were inside a cave with access to the sea. an immense joy filled them, they were in narnia. at that time, while everyone was taking off their clothes, to dive into the transparent water, edmund just wanted to grab a paper and quill to tell you, but it was impossible. in fact, they were in a narnia 1300 years older. their kingdom had been invaded and the magic of it was dying faster and faster. edmund wanted you there, while he walked the meadows looking at the ruins of what was cair paravel. but you were in england.

"y/n are you ready for the ball tonight?" one of your friends was walking beside you on the streets of london. the teachers had let all the students go in search of their garments for the feast, the very day of the celebration.

"not really, I have never been to a party so I’m a little nervous"

"it’s easier than it looks" you were turning the corner when you thought you saw a shiny fur. "are you okay, y/n?” the girl next to you asked as she saw you looking for something with intensity. what you saw it looked like a lion, but it was impossible. lions in london? will be aslan?

"is that...I remembered that I must call my uncle to wish him a good christmas eve, yes that!... emm, you go ahead, I’ll go talk on the phone and catch you" so you retire at a fast pace, to see the lion enter a phone booth. of a push you entered the red booth, finding a small golden paper on the machine.

'You know what numbers to dial’

it would be lying to say you were confused, the number 338 appeared in your mind immediately; it was your room number inside of cair paravel. when your fingers moved through the numbers, the machine began to tremble slightly, making all your surroundings become blurry. in the blink of an eye, you were standing in a meadow full of daisies. you were alone but far away you could see what seemed like a how, a shelter.

without the need to ask anyone, you knew it. you were in Narnia, you felt it in your bones. It was different, but the aroma and familiarity did not go unnoticed.

the trees were not as you remembered them, they used to dance around you every time you made an appearance in the gardens but this time they stood still; they seemed asleep. your school uniform started to heat you up so as you moved along the green lawn you left your clothes in the way, until you were left with your blue skirt, which reached a little above the knee, your shoes and the white shirt. you felt at home, you had returned to your home; among your thoughts, the idea of the pevensie being there also reached your head and you wished that aslan would appear back to show you the way to them. but instead of aslan, a horse being ridden by a men appeared before you.

"I’m sorry, miss, but may I ask who you are?" a dark-haired boy got off his horse to stand in front of you, curiously. he had never seen you before, but he knew you weren’t a telmarine, or you would have bowed to him, and you weren’t a narnian because the sons of adam and eve who belonged to narnia, were the kings and queens and he already knew them.

"my name is y/n, gentleman...and you are?"

"prince caspian, future telmarine king" telmarine? it sounded familiar to your ear, perhaps you had read it in some book of prophecies in your stay in narnia years ago; but it had been so long that no memory came to your mind. "you’re a daughter of eve, right?"

"I don’t have horse legs so I’m not a centaur" you said in a comedy voice that wasn’t funny enough for the prince to smile, so you stopped your laugh and continued to say "yes, I’m a daughter of eve."

"come with me then" the situation that edmund had gone through came to your mind, you didn’t know whether to trust the boy who claimed to be future king. despite your doubts, you didn’t have the courage to ask where he would take you and you decided to trust him, asking aslan to give you back your fighting skills if necessary; it’s been a long time since you’ve practiced, sword fighting was not a common hobby in finchley.

you skillfully climbed, to caspian’s surprise, to the white horse where he had come to you. the said prince took the reins and began to ride. they went up a high meadow, from there you could see the transparent waters several meters down. if the situation had been different, you would have run down to the sand to enjoy the water, but the uncertainty of where you were going did not leave you. surprisingly, you arrived very quickly at the place you had seen before. now from close up you could see that it was, aslan’s how. caspian didn’t kidnap you, he was a good man. so, thanking him you got off your horse and looked around as the prince walked into the how. edmund was busy looking at a map, but someone’s footsteps from behind distracted him.

"yes you take your time, we don’t need you to make war plans" the sarcastic voice, that so characterized ed, echoed through the shelter as it reached the outside causing you to freeze. it was a voice you were unfamiliar with but you had heard it before. your mind traveled to the last time you spoke on a pay phone with your best friend and recognized the voice. it was edmund, but he had grown up. he had obviously grown up, like you had.

"I’m sorry, I found someone on the way..."

"with whom you could possibly have met in the middle of the wood-" edmund’s gaze moved towards the entrance of the place when he saw a delicate figure enter. those sweet traits that he remembered so much from his childhood were refined, elegant, but they kept that shred of innocence that he liked so much. that face that was so much expected to be found casually on the streets of london or finchley was in front of him, dressed in what looked like the remains of a school uniform and the astonished eyes absorbing all around her.

"y/n..." it was a whisper, but the echo of the how made it sound loud enough for you to hear.

so you looked up meeting the person who had occupied your head since you were eight. the boy you used to create scenarios with at night. the boy who was a little kid and now was a man in armor looking at you from the other side of the room. the boy you were afraid to see holding someone else’s hand. your mind failed to form a word because you were already running towards him, to wrap yourself in his body. his arms traveled to your waist swiftly as he lifted you from the ground and shoved his face up your neck, smelling your scent that he had so missed. one of your hands traveled to his hair caressing that darkness that you used to braid when you were just a kid.

"hello ed" you whispered giving yourself permission to shed a tear. edmund felt that drop of water fall on his shirt, so he took you off his body to start leaving kisses all over your face, causing laughter in both. by that time, caspian had already retired, leaving you two alone.

"what are you doing here?" said edmund when he stopped kissing your face, but leaving his hands on your waist while you stroked his cheeks.

"I have no idea, but I’m here! and I missed you so much that I don’t care!"

"I missed you too, with all my heart" the boy’s eyes turned to your mouth and an urge to taste your soft lips flooded him.

"do it" and he did it. what he was waiting for so long. at that time nothing didn’t matter, no war or anything. just the two of you. neither of you could put into words what you felt, but you two wanted to find out together. between kisses and caresses, you could decipher when that passionate love was born, that passion that was sealed with a reunion kiss.

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie x y/n #the chronics of narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #one shots #prince caspian

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adhd-wifi · 4 years

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MDZS and the Legends of Hou Yi

So just for fun, I wanted to talk about how much the tales of Hou Yi, a famous figure in Chinese legends, is referrenced in the story of MDZS. I’m pretty confident that MXTX is quite the fan of this particular story. (Note: There are multiple versions of this tale, and I went with the one that had most ties with MDZS, which, coincidentally, happened to be the version I personally grew up with, with one or two minor differences.)

This post took me 6 hours.

The Legend:

Back when the world was still new, there were ten brilliant suns in the sky, children of the Heavenly Sun Emperor Di Jun. They took turns illuminating the sky, bringing light and warmth to the mortal world below. However, the ten suns were still children, and despite their father’s strict instructions of only allowing one of them into the skies at a time, they all went out together one day to play together.

The mortal world suffered from their game, the blinding light and unbearable heat killing crops and livestock and causing the people immense suffering. Seeing this suffering, the great immortal archer Hou Yi climbed to the top of a great mountain, armed with exactly ten arrows in his quiver, and spoke one final warning to the suns, asking that they return home peacefully. But when they did not heed his warning, Hou Yi drew his divine bow, letting loose nine arrows made of dragon bone towards the heavens. One by one, nine suns were struck, each of them falling dead to the Earth as blood red crows bearing three legs. With one arrow left in his quiver, however, Hou Yi chose to spare the last sun so the world would not fall into icy darkness. The last sun promised to behave, fearful of the archer who shot down his brothers. The mortal world declared Hou Yi a hero and their saviour.

Di Jun, however, was furious at the deaths of nine of his children, and so he cast Hou Yi and his wife, Chang'E, from the heavens, stripping them of their immortality.

Seeking a way to return them to the heavens and relieve the feelings of grief felt by his dear wife, Hou Yi sought out the help of Xi Wang Mu, Mother Queen of the West, who was known for having created the Elixir of Immortality. Xi Wang Mu took pity on Hou Yi, and also recognized his heroic deeds in shooting down the suns despite knowing there were consequences, and thus, she gave him her last bottle of Elixir. She warned him, however, that the elixir was too strong for any single mortal, and it must be shared between him and his wife.

Overjoyed, Hou Yi returned home, hiding the elixir in hopes of surprising his wife with it. He told her that the 15th day of the Eight Lunar Month would be a special day, for he planned to share the elixir with her on that day, and ascend back to the heavens together under the light of the beautiful full moon.

However, others had heard of the elixir the famous fallen hero had managed to obtain. Greedy with the thought of ascending to immortality themselves, they stalked Hou Yi home and overheard what he told his wife. So they planned an ambush on the promised night, when Hou Yi left to go hunting for a special feast. They attacked Hou Yi under the moonlight, killing him and then raiding their home. They tried to force Chang’E to give them what they wanted, but Chang’E refused to give it up to her husband’s killers. To ensure they never got their hands on it, Chang’E drank the entire elixir. True to Xi Wang Mu’s words, it was too strong for one person, and she was immediately cast into the skies, forced to leave her husband behind without even saying goodbye. She then decided to live on the moon, the closest she could to the Earth, where her husband was, her only companion the Jade Rabbit of the Moon.

References to the Legend in Mo Dao Zu Shi:

The Wen Sect & the Ten Suns

The Wen Sect represent the Ten Suns, who enjoyed their lives and did what they wanted at the expense of others

Though we don’t meet all of them, there are exactly ten named (sort of) characters bearing the name Wen

Wen Mao

Wen RuoHan

Wen Chao

Wen Xu

Wen ZhuLiu

Wen Qing

Wen Ning

Granny Wen

Uncle Four

Wen Yuan

Note: While not explicitly stated, Granny Wen & Uncle Four were only ever considered part of the sect, so it’s fair to assume that they were in fact surnamed Wen

Out of those ten Wen Sect members, only one was alive by the end of the story, Wen Yuan (Wen Ning was technically dead)

The Wen Sect as a whole is said to be bad at archery, and they were furious upon losing an archery competition where missing a shot disqualifies them (Hou Yi only had ten arrows, at first planning to shoot them all down, and couldn't afford to miss a shot or the world could've been left with more than one sun)

The indoctrination can be seen as a metaphor for the suns playing and exerting their power harmfully over the mortal world

The Wen Sect primarily resorted to burning and fire, the element most associated with the sun

The name of QiShan Wen’s residence is 不夜天城 (bù yè tiān chéng), (overly) literally translated, “No Night Sky Palace”, AKA Nightless City. With the Ten Suns in the sky, night could not fall

Wang LingJiao took the shooting of a sun-like kite as justification for her accusations of the Jiang Sect going against the Wen Sect

It was specifically the child of the Wen Sect Leader, Wen Chao, that led the attack on Lotus Pier, like how the Ten Suns were the children of the actual Sun Emperor

Also on a narrative note, both the Ten Suns and Wen Chao had larger roles in the overall story compared to their fathers, despite their fathers playing key roles as well

The first Wen Sect member to take Wei WuXian’s side, which ultimately led to Wei WuXian & Jiang Cheng surviving the massacre of Jiang Sect, was Wen Ning, the only notably skilled archer of the Wen Sect

On a similar note, Wei WuXian, who was the considered a hero and major player in the fall of the Wen Sect, was also the winner of the archery competition

This means two skilled archers were heavily responsible for the Wens losing the war in the long run, albeit somewhat indirectly

The Sunshot Campaign is literally named the Sunshot Campaign and was in fact directly and explicitly referencing the legend of a great hero shooting down the sun in canon (meaning the story of Hou Yi exists as a legend or fairytale in MDZS canon, nice!)

Wei WuXian, who is the Hou Yi of MDZS and a hero in the war against the Wens, is represented by a crow in official promos for the animation, and when the suns were shot down, they turned into red crows with three legs (this one could be pure coincidence since crows are also just seen as symbols of death in general and he controls the dead)

The Golden Core, The Yin Tiger Seal, and the Elixir of Immortality

Since golden cores are seen as necessary to cultivate, and cultivation leads to immortality, they are what represent the elixir in MDZS

Wen ZhuLiu, a Wen Sect member, having the ability to destroy golden cores could be seen as referencing how Di Jun took away Hou Yi and Chang’E’s immortality in retaliation for shooting down the suns

Jiang Cheng into going up a mountain to meet BaoShan Sanren to restore his golden core is similar to how Hou Yi sought out Xi Wang Mu to restore their immortality

On a related note, MDZS’s version of Xi Wang Mu is both BaoShan Sanren and Wen Qing combined, BaoShan Sanren playing the role of the immortal figure to give the golden core, and Wen Qing taking on her identity while being the one to actually give it through the experimental surgery

After getting the elixir however, it became more similar to the Yin Tiger Seal instead, being sought after by hostile people who were willing to kill Wei WuXian for it, all for personal reasons (Fuck you Jin Sect)

Wei WuXian hiding the golden core transfer from Jiang Cheng can be seen as similar to how Hou Yi initially hid the elixir from Chang’E, though Hou Yi always planned to tell her about it unlike Wei WuXian

In an alternate version of the tale, Chang’E was suspicious of Hou Yi’s secrecy with the elixir after subconsciously blaming him for their immortality taken away (Hou Yi may or may not have told her about his task, depending on what version of this alternate version you read), thus peeking inside the hidden box while he was away on a hunt. When he returned, she panicked over betraying his trust and drank the whole thing. This alternate version can be seen as similar to how Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure whether to trust Wei WuXian or not after the events of the Sunshot Campaign, and his inability to trust his “former” brother heavily contributed to their separation. I mean if Wei WuXian & Hou Yi had just talked to their loved ones in these versions of their stories they would’ve had a little less problems but what’s an ancient Chinese dramatic tale without miscommunication am I right?

WangXian and Hou Yi & Chang’E

Both Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi share aspects of Hou Yi and Chang’E’s individual sides of their stories in MDZS

Lan WangJi, like Chang’E, wasn’t present during his loved one’s confrontation with the Wen Sect (”the Suns”)

Lan WangJi is also associated with the moon in some official art and his robes are always white and resemble “mourning robes”. This ties into Chang’E being the goddess of the moon and being known to wear white, some believing she does so in mourning the loss of her husband who remained on Earth

In contrast, Wei WuXian is more associated with the sun narratively, having fought the Wen Sect during a major turning point in his life, then lived as family with the Wen Remnants and always having something red in his otherwise dark outfits (his ribbon). This ties in with Hou Yi’s involvement with the Ten Suns in general

Side note: Lan WangJi wore clothing that was more typical of a non-combatant (long, flowy hanfu-looking robes), like Chang’E, who was a dancer never saw the battlefield. Wei WuXian tended to wear clothes more typical of an active combatant (pre-Yiling Patriarch at least) with narrow sleeves and trousers, similar to the portrayals of traditional archers such as Hou Yi. He no longer wears such attire in Mo XuanYu’s body. (CQL not counted for this point)

WangXian’s representative animal is the rabbit, specifically the two rabbits Wei WuXian gifted Lan WangJi. Chang’E’s main (sometimes only) companion on the moon is the Jade Rabbit

On a related note, the Lan Sect is the one that keeps the rabbits, and the Lan Sect happens to be the Sect most associated with jade ornaments, even though the other sects have them as well

Like Chang’E, Wei WuXian was unwilling to give his assailants the Yin Tiger Seal, choosing instead to ensure they could never have it, but by destroying the seal (”drinking the elixir”) he ended up being separated from his loved ones in the mortal world, in his case by dying

Also, part of his decision to do this was driven by the grief of losing someone he loved, though in his case it was Jiang YanLi instead of his future husband

In an alternate version of the tale where Hou Yi survived the ambush, or the version where Chang’E betrays his trust, Hou Yi becomes violent and cruel, going from a worshipped hero to a hated tyrant. This alternate version can relate to both Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian was a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, but became hated after the war was over (though he did so by sticking to his personal morals). Lan WangJi turned against his sect and the cultivation world despite his reputation as a righteous man because he feared losing the man he loved, then upon losing Wei WuXian he lost himself in his grief, especially notable in his drunken rampage where he branded himself with the Wen branding iron

Also related to the alternate versions in which Hou Yi lived, like Hou Yi, Lan WangJi was left on the mortal surface without his love, who had gone to a non-mortal plane of existence and was unable to even communicate with him

Hou Yi and Chang’E, post-separation, are sometimes associated with the concept of Yin-Yang, representing the “opposites” of Earth and Heaven respectively, connected by love. WangXian is similar, having started as opposing personality types with shared ideals, then their relationship became that of love by the end of the story. (WangXian is also more visually representative of Yin-Yang, with their black and white clothing respectively)

Welp this got so long LMAO. Anyways this was still really fun to do, especially since I personally really like this story, since it was one of the stories I was told growing up (it’s not my favourite exactly, tiny-baby-me got mad at the Jade Emperor a lot, but one of them). Hope this was just as fun to read lol.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs meta #hou yi #chang'e #chinese legends #chinese things #my metas #my posts #my ramblings #btw i said jade emperor in the last point because growing up i heard the version where the sun emperor was the jade emperor instead #i found out about di jun several years later

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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August 30 - Today is the feast day of Saint Rose of Lima. Ora pro nobis.

Born Isabella de Flores, Saint Rose was the daughter of a Spanish immigrant father and a Peruvian mother. She was personally confirmed by the Archbishop of Lima, Saint Turibiuis de Mongrovejo, and took the name Rose. Her family and friends had been calling her “Rosa,” as when she was still an infant, one of the family’s servants had seen her face miraculously transform into the vision of a mystical Rose. All of Saint Rose's sufferings were offered for the conversion of sinners, and the thought of the multitudes in hell was ever before her soul. She died in 1617, at the age of thirty-one.

by F. M. Capes, 1899

We may not say that St. Rose was the first saint of the New World, for God only knows His own; but she was the first of America's children to be placed in the calendar of canonized saints–the first flower gathered from that part of the great garden over which St. Dominic has been placed as the husbandman of Jesus Christ.

Almost before she was out of her infancy, that love of Our Lord's suffering, which was afterwards to become the ruling passion of her life, began to lay hold of little Rose's heart. How God speaks to the baby souls of those early-chosen children of His special delight; by what channels the Divine secrets are imparted to their barely-opened minds; what marvelous gift enables them to entertain and understand thoughts far beyond their years–we cannot know; but that such special communications are made to some of the Saints even as little children is certain.

In St. Rose's case the working of these mysterious operations in her heart was witnessed to by the fact that, as a little thing barely able to walk, she would often be found, having managed to escape from her guardians or companions, absorbed in deep infantine contemplation before a picture of the thorn-crowned Christ, in His mantle of scorn, which hung in her mother's room.

Her own apprenticeship in her Master's school, too, began early; for from the time that she was three years old Rose de Flores was the subject of one accident or complaint after another, and was kept perpetually in states of suffering which were sharp trials to her childish patience.

This ideal she realized in her life. It is this life of penance and mysticism which is presented to the reader in these pages. Everything in her life calls for admiration, many things for imitation, some, maybe, for explanation. The reader of this record of her ways and works will perforce exclaim: ‘Wonderful is God in His saints'–wonderful in their number, in their graces, in their variety.

St. Rose's life was eminently wonderful in its marvelous penance, its deep, earnest, and all but continuous prayer, its perfect union with God. She studied in the school of Christ; her book was the Cross; her Master the Crucified. Naturally of delicate health, weak in body, and physically feeble, hers was a life of chronic suffering. To this she added much fasting, abstinence, and penances of every kind, as will be seen from the perusal of this interesting and instructive life. But all her sufferings, whether sent by God or self-inflicted, were borne for God, with God, and in God.

She could say with the Apostle: ‘With Christ I am nailed to the Cross; and I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me. Her suffering life was a life of detachment from the world–a life of union with God. If she could make her own the words of St. Paul, ‘The world is crucified to me, and I to the world, she could add with equal truth, ‘I live in the faith of the Son of God, Who loved me and delivered Himself for me.'

ST. ROSE OF LIMA, VIRGIN BY FATHER FRANCIS XAVIER WENINGER, 1876

God gave to the Christians of America, and all over the world, a beautiful example of holiness, at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century, in the Saint whose festival is this day commemorated by the Catholic Church. Her native place was Lima, the capital of Peru. She was named Isabel, but while yet in the cradle, she was called Rose, as her face, in its loveliness, resembled a rose. She took the surname of St. Mary, by order of the Blessed Virgin. Already in her childhood, her conduct was holy. Her intention was to follow the example of St. Catherine of Sienna, whose life she had read, and therefore she entered the third order of St. Dominic. When five years old, she consecrated her virginity to God, and was such a perfect hand-maiden of the Lord, that during her whole life, she never offended Him by a mortal sin, nor even intentionally by one that was venial. Her time was divided between prayer and work. Twelve hours she gave to devout exercises, two or three to sleep, the rest to work.

When grown to womanhood, her hand was sought by several, but she always unhesitatingly gave the answer, that she was already promised to a heavenly spouse. That, however, her parents might no further urge her, she herself cut off her hair, as a sign of her consecration to God. She treated her innocent body with extreme severity. From her childhood she abstained from fruit, which, in Peru, is so delicious. Her fasts and abstinences were more than human; for, when scarcely six years old, her nourishment consisted almost entirely of water and bread. At the age of fifteen, she made a vow never to eat meat, except when obliged by obedience. Not even when sick did she partake of better food. Sometimes for five or eight days, she ate nothing at all, living only on the bread of angels. During the whole of Lent, she took only five citron seeds, daily. Incredible as this may appear to the reader, it is told by unquestionable authority. Her bed was a rough board, or some knotted logs of wood. Her pillow was a bag filled with rushes or stones.

Every night she scourged her body with two small iron chains, in remembrance of the painful scourging of our Saviour, and for the conversion of sinners. When, however, her Confessor forbade her this, she, after the example of St. Catherine of Sienna, bound, three times around her body, a thin chain, which in a few weeks, had cut so deeply into the flesh that it was scarcely to be seen. Fearing that she would be compelled to reveal it, she prayed to God for help, and the chain became loose of itself. Hardly were the wounds healed, when she again wore the chain, until her Confessor, being informed of it, forbade her to do so, She then had a penitential robe made of horse-hair, which reached below her knees, and occasioned her intense suffering. She wore under her veil, in remembrance of our Saviour's crown of thorns, a crown which was studded inside with pins, and which wounded her head most painfully. To attend the better to her prayers, she loved solitude above everything.

To this end, she asked the permission of her parents to build a small cell for herself in the corner of the garden. This cell was only five feet long and four feet wide; but she lived more happily in it than many others do in royal palaces. O, how many graces she obtained from heaven in this place! How many visions she had there of St. Catherine of Sienna, her Guardian Angel, the Blessed Virgin, and even of Christ Himself! She was also frequently favored with visions in other places. The most remarkable of these was one which she had on Palm Sunday, in the chapel of the Holy Rosary, before an image of the Blessed Virgin. Rose, gazing at the picture, perceived that the Virgin Mother, as well as the divine Child, regarded her most graciously, and at last she heard distinctly from the lips of the divine Child, the words: “Rose, you shall be my spouse.” Although filled with holy awe, she replied, in the words which the Blessed Virgin had spoken to the Angel: ” Behold, I am a handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to thy word.” After this, the Virgin Mother said: “May you well appreciate the favor which my Son has accorded to you, dear Rose!”

I leave it to the pious reader to picture to himself the inexpressible joy which this vision gave to Rose. It served her as a most powerful incentive to the practice of all virtues. Among these virtues, surely not the least was the heroic patience which this holy virgin showed, as well in bodily suffering, as in interior, spiritual anguish. The Almighty permitted her, for fifteen years, to be daily tormented, at least, for an hour, by the most hideous imaginations, which were of such a nature, that she sometimes thought that she was in the midst of hell. She could think neither of God nor of the graces He had bestowed upon her; neither did prayer or devout reading give her any comfort. It sometimes seemed as if she had been forsaken by God. In this manner, God wished to prove and purify her virtue, as He had done in regard to many other Saints. Her patience was also most severely tried by painful diseases, as she sometimes had a combination of two or three maladies at the same time, and suffered most intensely.

During the last three years of her life, she was disabled in almost all her limbs; but her resignation to the will of God was too perfect to allow her to utter a word of complaint. All she desired and prayed for was to suffer still more for Christ's sake. She, at the same time, encouraged other sick persons, whom she served with indescribable kindness, as long as she was well. She endeavored to comfort them when it was necessary to prepare them for a happy death; for, her greatest joy was to speak of God and to lead others to Him. One day when she was greatly troubled about her salvation, Christ appeared to her and said: ” My daughter, I condemn those only who will not be saved.” He assured her at the same time, first, that she would go to heaven; secondly, that she never would lose His grace through mortal sin; thirdly, that divine assistance would never fail her in any emergency. God also revealed to her the day and hour of her death, which took place in her thirty-first year. After the holy sacraments had been administered to her, she begged all present to forgive her faults, and exhorted them to love God. The nearer the hour of her death approached, the greater became her joy.

Shortly before her end, she went into an ecstasy, and after it, she said to her Confessor: ” Oh! how much I could tell you of the sweetness of God, and of the blissful heavenly dwelling of the Almighty!” She requested her brother to take away the pillow that had been placed under her head, that she might die on the boards, as Christ had died on the cross. When this was done, she exclaimed three times: “Jesus, Jesus, be with me!” and expired. After death, her face was so beautiful, that all who looked at her were lost in astonishment. Her funeral was most imposing. The Canons first carried the body a part of the way to the church; after them the senate, and finally, the superiors of the different orders, so great was the esteem they all entertained for her holiness. God honored her after her death, by many miracles; and Clement X. canonized her in 1671 and placed her among the number of the holy virgins.

#st rose of lima

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tianlang-jun · 4 years

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Let's talk a little about dojutsu (3)

Susanoo is a gigantic, humanoid avatar made of the user's chakra which surrounds them and fights on their behalf. It is the strongest ability available to those who have awakened the Mangekyo Sharingan in both eyes. Some sources say that the user must first unlock Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu before they can gain Susanoo.

Susanoo has several developmental stages. At its simplest level, users only manifest aspects of Susanoo's skeletal structure, such as a ribcage or an arm. Once a full skeleton is made, musculature and, later, skin forms until finally a complete humanoid is shaped. In its next stage, armour forms around the humanoid for further protection, causing it to resemble a yamabushi. In its final stage, Susanoo gains a tengu-like nose, wings for flight, and is clad with robes and ornate armour. This form possesses power comparable to that of a tailed beast. Susanoo differs between users, in terms of colour, design, and weaponry. All Susanoo wield at least one sword.

Susanoo is the wild god of sea and storms. Susanoo is known for its rebellious and impulsive essence, as destructive as a powerful and catastrophic storm. Despite being siblings, there long-standing rivalry between Susanoo and Amaterasu. When he was to leave Heaven by orders of Izanagi, he went to bid his sister goodbye. They quarreled and after Susanoo's defeat he went on a rampage destroying much of the heavenly and earthly realm, including Amaterasu's rice fields. Amaterasu, who was in fury and grief, hid inside the heavenly rock cave, plunging the earth into darkness and chaos. Eventually, she was persuaded to leave the cave.

Also God was described with a very generous, gentle and even heroic side. He descended to the province of Izumo, where he met an elderly couple who told him that seven of their eight daughters had been devoured by the eight-headed dragon Yamata no Orochi and it was nearing time for their eighth, Kushinada-hime. He then made the serpent drunk on strong sake and then killed it as it lay in a drunken stupor. From within the serpent's tail Susanoo discovered the sword the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, which he then presented to Amaterasu as a reconciliatory gift. Subsequently, he began to rule the Underworld.

(image taken from the game “SMITE”)

#uchiha #susanoo #dojutsu #god

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poemsfromthealley · 4 years

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Your twitter thread on people not appreciating Alec's narrative and how it's usually given mostly to female characters and then that angry response made me think of Sansa. Her arc got a lot of negativity and somehow it feels very to reasons why people hate Alec's storyline or insist why his storyline isn't valid or doesn't exist (e.g. didn't do anything important, wasn't involved in the 'real' action/plot, didn't achieve anything/didn't succeed in anything, didn't deserve their position, etc)

In both cases, I often heard a very similar argument, i.e. the development is shallow and the reward is unearned. On a slightly unrelated note, there is also a fun trend (kind of trend) in our fandom. People who love Alec often love Sansa too, but those who dislike Alec (and love Clary, Jace, Izzy, Magnus) are usually Dany fans who strongly despise Sansa.

[The twitter thread in question] [Angry Anon and my reply to them]

You make a very persuasive point, anon. I’m a casual GoT watcher so I’m not up on the finer points of that fandom, but I’ll believe this based on what I’ve seen. The Sansa hate was and is epic, so those rumblings are familiar to me.

I’ve been thinking about these exchanges a bit since they happened, and you’re right. The problem goes deeper than a queer male character being given a storyline focused on community/relationships/leadership rather than military power/violence/fighting skills.

It still gets to me that Angry Anon was so furious over Alec being denied action-y, heroic storylines where he would get to “save the day” because obviously that is the only kind of storyline that is good and valid. The only way to “save the day” is to kill things.

The underlying assumption is that no other storyline can be as interesting, empowering, or relevant as the one where characters fight villains/monsters and/or otherwise use violence and force to achieve their ends. A character who can’t or doesn’t fight is weak and therefore irrelevant.

It’s a disheartening and incredibly narrow view of narrative possibility in general. It disregards the use of soft power, of diplomacy, or cunning and empathy to achieve ends and resolve plot.

I haven’t thought about this deeply, but it makes me wonder if this is part of why people are angry about Clary so much. Because she gets a lot of conventionally male-coded narrative: she goes out and does things. She is reckless and dives headlong into stuff, causes problems and sometimes only manages to save the day because she is the Designated Heroine.

Sometimes, I feel like the anger in fandom for this is because she’s not expected to do this. She should keep to her female-coded box—and, by extension, if I’m mean, let Alec have this overt action narrative that people think is his due because he’s a man.

Generally, when people are up in arms about Alec’s perceived lack of agency, it’s because the only kind of agency they can see or do value is the violent kind.

Angry Anon was right in that queer characters are often denied this centre stage. I would love to see more media where the actual main protagonists, not just rank-and-file main ensemble members, would be overtly queer. But there is another layer here, and that is that we have such a limited idea of what makes for a narrative worthy of a main character. They have to fuck shit up or they’re pointless and relegated to the sidelines by mere stint of not employing violence as their main problem-solving mechanic. Because feelings are dumb and for girls only. I mean, wow.

The answer is not simply to give more characters shit to kick. The answer is to change what we consider a worthy fucking storyline.

Take Magnus, whom you also mention as a character people tend to see as more active/capable of fighting/violence.

On one level, this is true. Magnus is the most powerful of our core eight, if not the most powerful mortal (as in, not heavenly/infernal) character on screen. But in terms of screentime and his participation in the main plot, Magnus is strides behind Alec. Before season 3, he is very clearly Alec’s love interest. We get to know him mostly through Alec and their developing relationship. He doesn’t get the kind of emotional space Alec’s struggles are given.

But following this argument of a character’s worth being tied to their external/(meta)physical prowess, Magnus is a good characterbecause he can (hypothetically, and also on screen) level a lot of scenery with magic. The show itself commits the sin of reinforcing this perception by having him and everyone else disregard every other kind of power and faculty he would logically have when he loses his magic. He is now reduced to using his intellect and social connections, so obviously he’s worthless.

That is, to me, a really regrettable reading of both Alec and Magnus. I want to resist it, even when it forces me to go under the surface level of the canon in order to subvert it.

#dear anon #replies by j #stuff by j #alec lightwood #magnus bane #power and the kinds thereof #Anonymous

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codylabs · 5 years

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Shifting Sands Chapter 5: Warpath

Chapters: One Two Three Four Five

And then one day, ███████ felt space itself warp and bend. She heard the rumblings echo through the walls. She heard the engines roar to life, then stall. She heard the klaxons begin to wail. She heard the First Mate screaming over the intercom for everyone to get to crash seats. She saw the scientists move for safety much too slowly.

And she knew it was finally happening. At last. At long, long last, the event so many years prophesied was coming to pass. She liquified her bones and curled herself into the tightest ball she could, bracing herself to the test tube walls with flexible, cushioning tendrils.

It happened.

And by the time she finally pulled herself together and regained consciousness, it was all over.

Dead bodies littered the lab. The scientists had all been thrown to one end of the room where they lay with broken bodies, snapped necks, crooked tentacles, and still hearts. And every single other test subject in the tubes around her were dead too; at least, everything that had bones to break. She herself was fine though; very much shaken, and feeling sick, but she’d survived. She felt her egg, and it was intact.

They had survived.

She formed her entire body into a single muscly, spring-like limb, braced it against one wall of the tube, summoned all the power and strength she had, and then rammed herself full-force into the opposite wall. A tiny crack appeared. She took a moment to breath, then did it again. The crack widened. She did it one final time, the glass shattered, and then she was free.

Really, truly free.

One of the scientists in the room wasn’t quite dead. He looked up at her, coughing blood and blinking in helpless delirium. “H-h-help… Help me…” He managed to gasp, when he saw her silhouette standing over him.

The time had come to fulfill her oath.

As she stabbed him, she started her count. One.

She broke into the other tubes, and ate some of the other test subjects, until she was feeling restored. She destroyed a few drones that had been summoned to contain her. Once the way was clear again, she ventured out to explore and escape and conquer.

The ship was a fever dream of its former self, a desperate, chaotic, hopeless echo of forgotten glory. Walls were bent and crooked and warped, stained in places by blast marks or fluid leaks. The air stank of blood, burned plastics, and whatever chemical adhesive the repair nanobots were secreting in attempt to patch holes. The floor was covered in broken glass, thick as carpet in places, and it crinkled underfoot. Electrical lines spewed sparks. The malfunctioning life support chaotically shifted the humidity and pressure. Certain doors were wedged shut, certain hallways collapsed completely. Dead bodies were everywhere. Drones wandered the wreckage slowly and dumbly, like tanks rolling through the rubble of a fallen city, their treads struggling for purchase of the bricks and scaffold.

And as for her, she gazed upon the carnage with glee and vigor and triumph, for she stood as the victor. The champion. The survivor.

There were a few other survivors, though. Some of them were trapped in their rooms, some were roaming the halls, some were too injured to move. She dealt with them one by one as she found them.

Two. Three. Four. Slow going, but steady. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Some of the other survivors had found each other, and joined into small groups, so that they could have some company as they sat scared in the dark. Whenever she found such a group, she would appear as one of them, and infiltrate them, learn from them the locations of food, water, and other survivors, and then kill them all, one by one. It was great fun seeing the escalation of their fear and paranoia as they slowly lost a guessing game of “who’s-the-mimic”.

Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four… She was highly efficient.

After a few days of this hunting, she began to gather food, water, tools and equipment, and made a nest for herself in the lower levels of the ship. Once she had that, she would occasionally drag choice survivors there. If anybody seemed to possess any special skills or knowledge, she would crucify them on her wall, torture and hurt them until she’d extracted it. And it always worked. Officers, scientists, engineers, even hapless passengers, each was a wealth of information in his or her own way, and she learned many wonderful things.

Finally, in a stroke of luck, she found the head security officer, and tortured him for the drone control codes. Once she had them, she reprogramed the drones into her own mindless slaves, and instructed them to destroy everyone but her. Anyone that felt fear, anybody with any aggressive chemical markers at all, they were to eliminate. But so long as she stayed calm herself, they would ignore her no matter what form she took. She pressed the button and gave the order, and they did.

One hundred and seventy-nine. One hundred and eighty. She watched the camera feeds from her new slaves, and never lost count.

Slowly and steadily, enemies and dangers disappeared.

Very soon now, everybody else would be dead. All the scientists, all the crew, all the passengers, every last intelligent lifeform in this universe who ever could have threatened her or her child, all of them gone, without a memory or a plea.

In honor of the occasion, she allowed her egg to grow again.

And one day, deep in her secluded lair, she finally laid it, and held it in the palm of her hand: a small, sky-blue sphere that contained all she had left to love in this universe. All that remained of him, all she’d fought so hard to save. She hid it and covered it in a warm place.

Now considering her greatest trials behind her, she began to think ahead, to grander plans beyond this miserable wreck. If she ever was to return home or move beyond this planet, she would need to either construct a new ship or repair this one, in whole or in part. Therefore, she would need access to the tractor beam-like gravity engines, for the heavy lifting and larger industry. That presented a problem, because the only way to directly override the safety locks would be to brave the boiling heat and radiation of the engine room long enough to make it to the controls.

Now she stood before the sealed blast doors (warm to the touch) and wondered how she might do that. It would require armor of some type, or some new form with no cells to damage, or perhaps a kind of remote control.

But then, at a message from the drones, she turned from the door and started for the ship’s lower levels.

-7 lifeforms detected in sector 98, barricaded in room 98-18. No entry paths detected. The message had read.

Seven lifeforms. The last group. The last bastion of life on this vessel. The last of her enemies. And, if her predictions were correct, the Captain was among them.

She told the drones to stand down, for she’d been looking forward to this, and had in mind to handle these ones personally. Well… Most of them, at least. For the Captain himself, she had a more poetic end in mind. Since it was his pride that had doomed the mission, and his arrogance which had summoned all of fate’s wrath, and his fault that everyone had suffered so, she arranged a subtle, cunning trap for him. She would lure him out of his shelter, and leave clues to lead him all the way back, right to her original prison tube. There he would read a message from her, which detailed his fault in all its great and painful detail. Once he knew the full extent of his error, once the depth of his error had been made crystal clear, he would trigger a booby trap, and die by the hands of his own drones. Thus would his misplaced thirst for adventure and heroics would be his downfall one last time.

She arranged the trap.

And it was so.

Two hundred and three.

Then she slipped past the barricade, and emerged in the darkened room to behold the last six survivors. That was it; only six. Six scared, starving, helpless creatures, all alone, looking upon her with immense fear, as if they were seeing the devil himself. To suit the climactic moment, she shifted into the form of a great beast, a creature with claws, and wings, and terrible teeth, flaming eyes, and a sharp, knife-like tail. Something out of darkest legend. The last six screamed and cowered before her.

With a hooked claw, she lashed out at the first. Two hundred and four.

With the spear on her tail, she impaled the second. Two hundred and five.

She bit off the head of the third. Two hundred and six.

The fourth tried to save himself, tried to fight, tried to attack her with a broken chunk of pipe. Two hundred and seven.

The fifth begged for mercy. “I’m SORRY!” He pleaded. “Y-y-you’re the shapeshifter! I remember you! I-I spoke out for you! I told the Captain to let you go! I filed complaints about the things they were doing to you! I told them to leave you alone! I’m not your enemy! P-p-please! Please, I’m not your enemy… Please don’t…” Two hundred and seven.

And now the last. The very last. She spread her wings, and extended her claws, and preparing to finish her mission.

But fate had one last surprise in store for her, for she recognized the very last one.

“███████.” The oracle said.

At the sound of her name, she paused. It wasn’t mercy, it wasn’t hesitation, it was simply curiosity; perhaps the charlatan had come up with one last sermon of heavenly wisdom? One last attempt to change her ways? She wondered what could possibly be said, here at the end of life.

The oracle spoke. “In the name of the Creator God, I curse you.”

“…Oh?” ███████ smiled, and cocked her head to one side. “You curse me, do you?”

“I curse you.” The prophet repeated, her voice steady and fearless. “███████, you have deceived every single person you have ever spoken to. You have killed every single person who has ever reached out to you, and you have spurned the God who offered you mercy. Therefore, I curse the name of ███████, that it may be forgotten. Because you are filled with lies, I brand you a liar. Because you are filled with bloodlust, I brand you a monster. From this day forward, nobody will ever know your name, or know that it belongs to you, because whenever they look at you, they will see nothing but a creature and a horror. You shall have no friends, you shall have no caring family, you shall have no home, and nobody will ever love you again. You shall walk this planet not as yourself, but only as a boogieman, a cryptid, a nightmare, a dragon, and a beast. I hereby blot out the name of ███████, and brand you ‘the monster’ forever.”

The monster stared at the prophet for a moment, and then scoffed, and opened her jaws to bite her in half.

“And a monster’s end will surely meet you.” The prophet said, closing her seven eyes.

Two hundred and eight.

“A monster’s end”… For some reason the words stuck with her, tumbling in the back of her mind as she walked the halls of the empty wreck. What did that mean?

It didn’t matter; she couldn’t let it matter, not yet, because now was a time for peace. She had finally fulfilled her vow. She could finally enjoy a moment of rest.

But no sooner had she laid her head down to sleep, then her communicator beeped with another report from the drones: they’d found another group of survivors, a large group of nearly forty, who had escaped notice by fleeing to the hills outside the ship.

What… There are more…? Would it never end? She roused herself, and went out to meet this new last group. She found them just where the drones had said, she infiltrated them just like normal, began to kill them per routine…

But then… Then she met them.

ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ.

They were the last survivors from a population of mechanical organisms, whose red eyes blazed with electric fire, and whose metallic skin shone like the armor of olden knights. But despite their fierce appearance, the two were neither warriors or scientists, merely a couple peaceful beings whom fate had plunged into matters much greater than themselves.

At first, she thought nothing of them, for metal could be killed just the same as flesh, and when their survival was on the line, she knew that these two would cower and run and turn paranoid, just like all the others. But then one night, right in the middle of her ordinary business, these two peaceful beings leapt to the defense of the others, and attacked her. They fought with a grit and a determination and a fearless resolve she was barely prepared to defend against. The blades in their hands and mouths whirled toward her, and one grazed her arm, drawing blood.

She fled into the trees and hid herself, while her heart thundered in her chest and blood trickled from the wound. It wasn’t fatal, it wasn’t serious, it was nothing but a scratch really, but for some reason, it seemed to her symbolic. She remembered the prophet’s words. “A monster’s end…” And she finally realized what it meant. Of course… Everybody knows that a ‘monster’ doesn’t die from old age or infirmity or accident… No, everybody knows that the monster is SLAIN. It’s a story as old as storytelling itself, that the great beast must be vanquished by the brave and noble heroes. Things may go one way or go another, but in the end, the heroes stand up to defend the innocent, and the monster always dies.

Despite all reason, something in the back of her head believed the prophet’s words.

In the months that followed, it somehow, inexplicably proved true. ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ invaded her inner sanctum to allow the other survivors to escape, singlehandedly bested the drones she sent for them, walked unharmed through blazing heat and ionizing radiation, and stole the control unit for the ship’s last reactor. Then they established a home for themselves in a valley far away, and went there to live out the remainder of their lives in peace. The reactor control unit they hid, deep within a labyrinth of growing knives, where no fleshy creature would dare to tread.

It seemed like happily ever after, a fate as brash as any fairytale.

And as for her, she sat in her lair, and she knew that she had lost. Vanquished. Outwitted. Thwarted. A thousand cliché words for beaten.

The prophet’s curse was real.

But then a faint sound echoed through her lair, and past her despair. It was the faint noise of claws scratching at a rough surface. She turned toward her egg, and saw it rocking, from tiny movements within. It’s time! She realized. It’s finally time! Suddenly excited, she crouched down over the blue sphere to watch the moment of birth unfold. Even after all that’s happened, this is worth it… I have an ally. I have a child. The noise of the claws slowed down. “Come on…” She whispered. “You can do it… Be strong…” After a moment, the noise stopped altogether, and the egg wasn’t rocking anymore. “No, no, no, be strong, please!” She begged. “I need you here… I love you, you can’t give up now…! Please! Don’t you know how hard life is? You stupid child, this is but the first of many trials! Life is hard, life is cruel, and everything will one day stand against you! Soldiers, scruples, kings and gods, they want to entrap you just like this egg! And if you aren’t strong enough to be free, then you will die a prisoner! I cannot help you, least you forget that…! Please, please, please be strong enough to be free...!”

As if it understood her, the child picked up its noisy struggle again, stronger and more determined this time. A crack appeared in the egg. The crack widened, and a piece chipped loose, revealing a claw beneath. And then more pieces chipped, and egg came apart, and her child stumbled out into the land of the living.

A son.

A son who was strong enough.

She held out her arms.

But when he saw her, he didn’t crawl towards her. He didn’t perk up at the welcome smell of his mother, he didn’t imprint on her or mimic her face, like babies usually do. Instead he recoiled from her, and began to crawl toward the exit of her lair, as one might instinctively flee from a predator. He took the form of the jagged metal littering the floor.

For he didn’t see his mother. He didn’t see a person. Even he, a child too young to think, saw only a monster.

“You… You… Why, you fool!” She grabbed him and picked him up and screamed at him. “After all, after ALL, even YOU don’t understand my ways?!? Everything I’ve ever done had a reason! I did it for me! I did it for you! For us! Who told you it was wrong? Who told you it was ‘evil’?? Did ‘God’ tell you so?” She shook him. “Well God is mistaken! Because when it’s down to survival, right disappears and so does wrong, and so does everything that makes you a monster, because sometimes all you can do is that which is bitterly, savagely cruel! A ‘monster’, am I? Fine, then go! Leave me, see where morals and decency get you out there, you snobby little mistake!” She threw him in the direction of the exit. “Leave, Leave, LEAVE! And don’t you EVER come back!”

He hit the wall, rolled over a few times, then managed to pick himself up on narrow legs, and crawled as fast as he could to escape her. The noise of his frightened squealing cries echoed back up the passage for a few moments, and then he was gone.

He was so young and scared that the drones would probably find his heartbeat and kill him.

Such are the ways. She whispered silently as she stared after him. Such are the ways for those who are weak.

She wished she could cry, but she couldn’t. Wished to beg but she wouldn’t. Wished to feel pain, but she didn’t dare. And some small part of her wished she could pray, but above all things, that was utterly and completely impossible. For she had decided long ago that no depth, no hardship, no pain, nothing could ever drag her to her knees. There was no compassion, no grace, no favor God could give her, there was nothing that could ever bend her head in humility. If the monster would have help, the monster would provide that help.

So here, at the height of her despair, she prayed to herself.

And bizarrely, she received an answer.

A flash of light lit up her lair. When her vision cleared, she beheld a monster. Her heartrate picked up and her muscles tensed, for something about the creature filled her with a powerful sense of dread. Something about its crooked, hardened posture seemed savage and dangerous. Something about those eyes betrayed an absence of soul or mercy or feeling… And yet… Yet at the same time, the pose was identical to her own; and those eyes were the same she saw so often in the mirror.

This terrible thing was herself.

“Time travel exists.” Her other self replied, in answer to all the unspoken questions. “I have come from 4 days in the future.”

That was a lot to take in, despite the simplicity of the concept. She stared at this other self for a moment while she considered the claim. After a moment’s though, she said. “…Prove it.”

“Why?” The thing shrugged. “What else could I be? A dream? A hallucination? A vision the prophet sent from beyond her grave? Your mate, survived somehow and mocking your wretched current form?”

She considered that, and realized the options were just that limited. “Fine then.” She hissed. “Tell me whatever it is you’ve come to tell me.”

The monster showed her a pair of small, yellow machines. “Two incautious military men from a distant time will visit this crash site in 3 days’ time.” It informed her.” Kill them quickly, and steal these: the devices they use to travel though time. Learn to use them. Master them. They are the tools which will allow you to gain power over all attackers, cheat your fate, and fix your mistakes.”

She stared at her other self for several seconds, considering its strange choice of words. “Mistakes?” She finally scoffed. “First my mate, then the scientists, then the survivors, then the prophet and even God himself, and now even you?!? Even myself?!? Has it really taken only 4 days to change my mind, make me forget that my actions were never accidental? Is that enough time for fate to break my resolve? Have you so quickly forgotten your vows and your purpose and your strength? Forgotten who you are? Do I have to kill YOU too?!?”

“You’ve become hysterical.” Her future self growled lowly. “And I will defend myself if attacked. So calm yourself, and I will continue when you’re ready.”

She took a deep breath. Forced herself to slow down, and leaned against a wall. “Continue.” She managed to snap.

“The actions you took, that I took…” The monster began. “They were necessary, and you were right to do them, but they did earn their just reward; you cannot undo the curse. This means that no matter what you do, you cannot love your son any longer, for he will never love you. His mind is wild and fearful at this age, and he cannot understand you, so it would bring both of your great harm if you were to raise him yourself… But one day, he may be old and wise enough to look past his fear, and join you as a valuable ally. Therefore, you must give him away to someone else; set him up for a good future. You must give him a pathway to greatness, put him somewhere where he can learn, and grow in intelligence. A place where he can conquer, and kill, and learn the bitter price of survival. You must put him among people who see him as a monster, so that he will inherit the curse as well. Only then will he understand. I have put much thought into the matter in the past 4 days.”

She considered the proposal. “But… When you say to give him to ‘someone else’, who do you mean? Everyone on this planet is dead. And those who are left know me too well to do me that favor…”

“This planet has a race of intelligent natives.” To demonstrate, the monster shifted into the form of a hairy, bony biped with narrow eyes, five-fingered hands, and pants. “In less than a thousand years they will reach this continent. A few thousand more, and they will discover and explore this crash site. Somewhere among them you will find an appropriate host for him.”

“Very well.”

The monster began to activate one of the time machines, to leave and continue her own business.

“Wait…” She held up a hand to stop her future self from disappearing. “With the time machine, will I be able to change my fate? Can I kill the heroes, and escape a monster’s end? Will I finally be able to get the best of fate…?”

Her future self smiled. A savage, dangerous smile. “ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ are dead.” She declared.

And with that, the monster disappeared.

Things happened just as it had been said.

She found and killed the time travelers. She undid the hatching of her son’s egg. She found a new and better host for him: StanFord Pines, a brilliant if foolish man of wealth and means, a fertile life that her son could assimilate as his own. So she buried the egg where Stanford would be sure to unearth it, and left the child to its own devices.

And she did not consider him again.

#Gravity Falls #shifting sands #shapeshifter #sam #monster #backstory #ufo #alien #crash #fanart #fanfiction #stanford pines #betty and barney #spaceship

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thelivesofthesaints · 2 years

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February 4 - St. Joseph of Leonissa - 1612 A.D

This saint was born in 1556, at Leonissa a small town near Otricoli, in the ecclesiastical state, and at eighteen years of age made his profession among the Capuchin friars, in the place of his birth, taking the name of Joseph; for before he was called Eufranius. He was always mild, humble, chaste, patient, charitable, mortified, and obedient to an heroic degree: with the utmost fervor, and on the most perfect motive of religion, he endeavored to glorify God in all his actions. Three days in the week he usually took no other sustenance than bread and water, and passed several Lents in the year after the same manner. His bed was hard boards, with the trunk of a vine for his pillow. The love of injuries, contumelies, and humiliations, made him find in them his greatest joy. He looked upon himself as the basest of sinners, and said, that indeed God by his infinite mercy had preserved him from grievous crimes; but that by his sloth, ingratitude, and infidelity to the divine grace, he deserved to have been abandoned by God above all creatures. By this humility and mortification he crucified in himself the old man with his deeds, and prepared his soul for heavenly communications in prayer and contemplation, which was his assiduous exercise. The sufferings of Christ were the favorite and most ordinary object of his devotions. He usually preached with a crucifix in his hands, and the fire of his words kindled a flame in the hearts of his hearers and penitents. In 1587 he was sent by his superiors into Turkey, to labor as a missioner among the Christians at Pera, a suburb of Constantinople. He there encouraged and served the Christian galley-slaves with wonderful charity and fruit, especially during a violent pestilence, with which he himself was seized, but recovered. He converted many apostates, one of whom was a bashaw. By preaching the faith to the Mahometans he incurred the utmost severity of the Turkish laws, was twice imprisoned, and the second time condemned to a cruel death. He was hung on a gibbet by one hand, which was fastened by a chain, and pierced with a sharp hook at the end of the chain; and by one foot in the same manner. Having been some time on the gibbet, he was released, 676 and the sentence of death was changed by the sultan into banishment. Wherefore, embarking for Italy, he landed at Venice; and after two years’ absence arrived at Leonissa. He resumed his apostolic labors in his own country with extraordinary zeal, and an uncommon benediction from heaven. To complete his sacrifice, he suffered very much towards the end of his life from a painful cancer, to extirpate which he underwent two incisions without the least groan or complaint, only repeating: “Holy Mary, pray for us miserable afflicted sinners:” and holding all the while a crucifix in his hand, on which he fixed his eyes. When some said, before the operation, that he ought to be bound or held, he pointed to the crucifix, saying: “This is the strongest band: this will hold me unmoved better than any cords could do.” The operation proving unsuccessful, the saint happily expired, on the 4th day of February, in 1612, being fifty-eight years old. His name was inserted in the Roman Martyrology on the 4th of February. See the history of his miracles in the acts of his beatification, which ceremony was performed by Clement XII. in 1737, and in those of his canonization by Benedict XIV. in 1746. Acta Canonizationis 5 Sanctorum, viz. Fidelis a Sigmaringa, M. Camilli de Lelis, Petri Regalati, Josephi a Leonissa, and Catharinæ de Riccis, a Benedicto XIV., an. 1746, printed at Rome an. 1749, pp. 11, 85, and the bull for his canonization, p. 558. Also Bullar. t. 15, p. 127.

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marrondrawsalot · 3 months

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New au but imma drop the lore real good. It’s somewhat a combo to Smile Precures, power rangers samurai, and a dash of Cutie Honey. I present, Heavenly Eight Heroics. AND YES I HAD TO MAKE A SHIT UP SO PIPE IT AND READ THE CRAZY- and guess what. IT DOES RELATE TO NRC AND RSA BUT ITS FULL RSA AU WISE

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Long long ago, there was a kingdom of darkness. The ruler was of a selfish man, who wanted to plunge the very earth he stands into darkness. As he finds joy and humor through it, he was labeled a mad man. One who strives for chaos at the sense of free will. But this outburst and destructions, made a horrible impact to his own life. By the power of Eight heroes, they sealed the lord of darkness in a statue. Cursing this man to never see the light nor dusk. This was done by the eighth hero, the son of ape dragons. A heroic hero who vow to protect the world from darkness. However. As they finished the lord armies. They did not destroyed their undying determination. Years after years. Their spirit returns with a new host. But, this time. They stick to one very body. And used it as their own. Cursing their host to forever be their own bodies.

Though….. only one remain in a single body, she just so happen to change it every time to blend in. And obtained eternal youth and beauty to remain so young and beautiful, that no one can dare guess her being the daughter of that lord of darkness. Nor guess her intention to free him to help her dear father create his master plan. And she rules her seven lieutenants, who just as dangerous as of her. One who has brute power, strength, wisdom, stealth, beauty, shadow magic, and creation. But who are they? Well……

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“Come on, dear…… it’s been-“ said the lieutenant of poisonous beauty, sipping his purple concoction of death as he watches the leader rave and rant her rage. “We didn’t finish with the River of Despair!!!” She shouted, throwing a file to the lieutenant of shadows. As the boy sighed, “you know…. As the daughter of darkness, you presumed to be more lady like…” he mumbled. Getting another file to the face and taken it since he cannot argue with the leader of fucking chaos. The lieutenant of force agreed with his boss, “she’s right. We are meant to finish the River to our king. He’s barely enough to engulf his body. We need more tears of despair, if we want to get the world plunged into darkness.” He said. The lieutenant of strength laughed, “oh come on…… we got time, we just need to speed up the process!” He said. The lieutenant of stealth hissed to the idea of speeding up the process, “and risssk, for any slip up?!” The girl sighed, “he’s right. We need more negative energy…… all to free him….” As the lieutenant of strength stood up and held his leader close, he grew a brotherly bond to her. He knew her pain. “We’ll free him. I promise.” The girl sighed, but smiled. “I just can’t wait to see father look at our new beautiful world~!” Laughed…… Darling.

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HHAHAHAAAA GET FUCKED BITCHES

Me with this au: I’m going to create so much hell for this au

- Darling and her old friends are all the lieutenants and leader of chaos. And their passive skills is their title. Joseph is deeply immune to poison and drink it like it’s a sports drink

- Ambrose Pendragon is partially in this shit but so is his seven dorm boys and family.

Me at RSA Boys: prepare to get shit fucked boys! AND DRAMA

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @achy-boo @abyssthing198

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #marron ocs #twst #twst oc #darling crowley #I’m not gonna fucking tag all these dudes name-#elliot quill #joseph manfred #haruto mizuki #Aaron Fer Zin #Malik Dalal #Vicktor Amagolda #Grimsworth Dusk #*proceeds to do it anyways*#Heavenly Eight Heroics

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hogwartslessons-blog · 6 years

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Mythology| Monday. July 2nd, 2018| Lesson Eleven: Trees and Warriors

The image you just saw, and the one represented on the parchment in front of you, is Yggdrasil, the sacred ash tree. Yggdrasil, often times called the world tree, is a visual representation of Nine Worlds, which is the cosmology represented in Norse mythology.

In the roots of the tree lie seven of the Nine Worlds. Their inhabitants are creatures such as the Frost Giants, Elves, Dwarfs, Vanir (older gods), and others we shall hear about in the myths. Midgard is the area represented around the middle of the tree, and that is the world that we all live in. Asgard is the home of the gods, mostly comprised of the Aesir (younger gods), and some Vanir. The rainbow bridge is called Bifrost, and it connects Asgard to Midgard.

Norse Settlements

As you can see from the map in front of you, the Norse civilization spread out over much of northwestern Europe, especially in the coastal areas. The Norse also settled Iceland and Greenland, and even settled on the eastern shores of Newfoundland in modern day Canada. If you are interested in learning more about this civilization and its history, I suggest you take Ancient Studies, Year Four, if you haven’t already enrolled. For now, we shall turn to the civilization’s mythology.

Norse Pantheon

Have a look at the charts below for a better understanding of the relationships between the Norse gods:

Selected sections of the Norse Pantheon

Similar to the Greco-Roman pantheon, the Norse pantheon was made up of groups of older and younger gods who warred with each other. In this case, the Vanir were the older gods, who were associated with fertility, wealth and good weather. The Aesir were the younger gods who were all connected with some aspect of warfare. Dissimilar to the Greco-Roman pantheon, neither of these two groups of gods was descended from each other; they were essentially two different races.

The conflict between these two divine races ended when both sides were exhausted, and agreed to live at peace with each other. Due to the terms of their peace, some of the Vanir went to live in Asgard with the Aesir, the most famous of which are Freyr and Freyja. These two Vanir were twins who were bestowed with magical powers. Freyja was the goddess of love, and Freyr the god of fertility.

Odin, the Allfather and leader of the Aesir

The Aesir were led by Odin (sometimes known as Woden or Wotan), also referred to as the Allfather, as he was indeed the father or grandfather of these gods. He himself was descended from giants. From Odin and either his wife or one of his mistresses, came the other gods. Most of these offspring were heroes and warriors, such as Thor and Tyr, and others were known for their goodness, such as Balder.

One more rather important character to note, although he was not technically a god, was Loki. While raised in Asgard, Loki was actually the child of giants, and a great trickster. If something went wrong in a myth, Loki or one of his own offspring was involved. Loki’s offspring consisted of the great wolf, Fenrir; Jormungandr, the Midgard Serpent; Hel, the goddess of death, who ruled the realm of the same name; and, although missing from our chart above, Sleipnir, the eight legged horse ridden by Odin.

Loki

Before we delve deeper into these characters and their stories, I would like to point out one very significant difference between the Norse gods and other pantheons you may have studied. The Norse gods were not immortal. They could die, and indeed most were destined to do so at the end of the world, which we will discuss in our next class. Do keep that in mind as we continue, as it makes their acts of bravery and defiance much more significant.

The Valkyries

Odin was, at his core, a lover of knowledge and battle. In battle, he had a group of handmaidens to aid him. Named the Valkyrie, literally female choosers of the slain, they were depicted in earlier myths as demons, or at the very least great warriors riding dragons and horses. They collected up the souls of the bravest heroes who had fallen in battle, and bore them to Valhalla, the heavenly abode of Odin’s army, located in Asgard. In later myths, the Valkyrie are portrayed as swan maidens who were fierce in battle, yet vulnerable to falling in love with mortal heroes.

The Valkyrie

The interesting point to note about the Valkyrie are actually their mounts. Whether they rode dragons or winged horses, they were regardless using magical beasts, which means their myth may have some basis in fact. Perhaps they rode Thestrals as certainly everyone in a battle would have witnessed death. These creatures would have terrified anyone who had never seen them before. If they indeed rode dragons, well, you can imagine the sheer terror that would have overcome the battlefield.

Norse Heroes:

Odin

We have spoken a bit about Odin already, however in some ways he is also a hero. It is not his feats of heroism or battles with monsters (although there are several examples of those) that give him his heroic status, but his great quests for knowledge instead.

Odin was certainly a god of war, but also considered a god of magic and wisdom. In fact, Odin twice sacrificed himself to achieve greater wisdom and understanding to satisfy his love of knowledge. Firstly, he sacrificed one of his eyes by cutting it out and threw it into a magical well in return of a drink of immense wisdom. Secondly, he hung himself for nine days on Yggdrasil in order to die and be reborn by magic. This resurrection gave him greater wisdom than anyone else.

One-eyed Odin. Bronze relief c. 1950

With great knowledge, however, came great and eternal despair for Odin. He knew exactly how the end of the world (known as Ragnarok) would occur, and that the death of one of his sons would signal the beginning of this. He new Ragnarok would be the end of almost all of the gods as they were destined to die during this epic final battle. Even with this knowledge, Odin continued to rule the gods and taught battle skills and theory to various kings. I believe it takes a great amount of strength to carry on knowing the worst is coming, and that is what makes Odin a hero.

Thor

Perhaps one of the most famous of the Norse heroes was Thor, Odin’s son by a giantess. Thor was the god of thunder, and, along with his great hammer Mjolnir, was unstoppable in battle. It was his purpose to destroy the enemies of the gods, the Frost Giants. Along with Loki, who was his friend at the time, he had many adventures and slew a great number of enemies.

One of the most amusing stories of Thor is when his hammer was stolen by Dwarves and given to a Frost Giant named Thrym. Thrym demanded marriage to the goddess Freyja as the price to return Mjolnir to Thor.

Since leaving such a powerful weapon in the hands of their enemies was just as bad as handing over the goddess, Loki devised a plan to trick Thrym. Thor, dressed as a woman, was able to trick Thrym into thinking that Freyja had accepted his proposal. Thrym let down his guard and place Mjolnir at Thor’s feet. Needless to say Thor ceased being a coy bride at that moment and wrought his revenge on the Frost Giants before taking Mjolnir home to Asgard.

#HogwartsLessos #HL #YearTwo #SecondYear #Mythology

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mysports360 · 4 years

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Experts of UAE: Five best IPL bowlers on UAE tracks

The much-anticipated T20 event, IPL 2020, is good to go to hit the floors in September this year. The money rich class, in the wake of COVID-19 pandemic, will be played in the UAE. UAE additionally facilitated the initial 20 matches of IPL 2014, and the occasion occurred easily.

The wickets in the Middle East nation are moderate and low, helping bowlers simultaneously. Bowlers, who beforehand have conveyed in the UAE conditions in 2014, can absolutely develop as driving wicket-takers this year. Flaunting a noteworthy past record, these five cricketers will plan to add a couple of more wickets to their count.

Also Read - Top 5 Innings of Wriddhiman Saha in IPL Matches

5. Bhuvneshwar Kumar

In the wake of being sidelined from the public side because of wounds, 30-year-old Bhuvneshwar Kumar will tingle to demonstrate his value and convey in the IPL. The Meerut-conceived pacer, known for his swinging capacity, is relied upon to assume a pivotal part in SRH's title mission. The right-arm fast had a noteworthy spell in the 2014 UAE leg as well, scalping eight wickets from five matches at an economy of 6.15. Thinking about his huge involvement with the greatest stage, he'll be relied upon to assume an indispensable function in his establishment's UAE crusade.

4. Mohit Sharma

Numerous players have thrived under the authority of MS Dhoni and Mohit Sharma is additionally one of them. Sharma played his first season for Chennai Super Kings (CSK) in 2013 and quickly hoarded the spotlight by getting 20 wickets. The pacer kept conveying in 2014 as well, getting 23 wickets.

In UAE, he scalped eight wickets from five matches including a 4/14 against a heavenly Mumbai Indians arrangement. Sharma will turn up for another establishment Delhi Capitals–this year and will would like to duplicate his 2014 heroics.

3. Lasith Malinga

Sri Lankan legend Lasith Malinga is without a doubt one of the greats to have supported the association. Known for his pinpoint precision, toe-squashing yorkers and slingy irregular activity, Malinga has highlighted in 122 IPL games, scalping 170 wickets at an economy around 7.

His UAE journey was likewise a noteworthy one as he picked eight wickets from five matches including a four-wicket pull. Malinga, who will be important for Lanka Premier League, is relied upon to miss the underlying period of IPL 2020. Be that as it may, MI will would like to have the veteran back soon so as to support their bowling power.

2. Varun Aaron

30-year-old Varun Aaron had picked eight wickets in the 2014 UAE leg of the money rich association. In five matches, the pacer had enrolled eight scalps with best figures of 3/16. Aaron will wear the Rajasthan Royals pullover in the UAE, intending to leave his imprint by parading his express movement. In 47 IPL matches, the right-arm snappy has taken 42 wickets at an economy more than 8.

1. Sunil Narine

Recently known for his batting abuses for Kolkata Knight Riders, Sunil Narine's function in giving basic advancements is laudable. The special hitter has a few varieties under his sleeve to astound the batsmen.

The off-spinner, in the 2014 UAE leg, scalped nine wickets from five matches at an amazing normal of 11.88 and best figures of 4/20. The Dinesh Karthik-drove side will pursue their third IPL title this season and Narine absolutely can rise as their pillar on UAE wickets.

Also Read - Top 5 Bowling Performances of Varun Aaron in IPL

#Best Bowling Performances of Varun Aaron in IPL Best Innings of Varun Aaron in IPL Bowling Performances of Varun Aaron in IPL cricket Delhi

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janeykath318 · 7 years

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Adventures In The Afterlife 3

Note: Jim and Bones are both dead and gone, but their spirits live on and eavesdrop on the land of the living occasionally. Here, they’re crashing Spock and Uhura’s wedding. (This is set after my fic Loyalty, the alternate version where they don’t come back to life.)

Jim: "Such a lovely ceremony." (Sniffles and wipes heavenly tears away watching Spock and Uhura declared husband and wife) Bones: "Pretty nice. Spock didn't know he had two extra groomsman." (Chuckles slyly) Jim: (grins fondly) "Nope. And Uhura is the loveliest bride I've ever seen. Did you see his face when she came toward him?" Bones: "Sure did. The hobgoblin looked like he was going to show emotion!" Jim: (gasps dramatically) "Wonder of wonders!!" Bones: "The bad part is, we won't be able to partake of any of the cake, since we're spirits." Jim: (makes sad face) "Yeah. But they made a lovely memorial table for Spock's mom and us." (Apparates to the end of the room) Bones: (flutters over and looks on with interest) Jim: (reading) "In memory of Amanda Grayson, James T. Kirk, and Dr. Leonard H. McCoy: people who shaped our lives and left us much too soon. We will never forget." (Sighs) "Being dead sucks, but it was worth it so they'd live to see this day. Right, Bones?" Bones: (puts an arm around sparkly Jim) "Right, Jim. And I wanted to see if Vulcans could actually kiss human style." Jim: (glitters in amusement) "Well, obviously, judging by the way Spock skillfully handled that. I'd give it an eight out of ten on the hotness scale." Bones: "Hey, Look at Scotty escorting Carol. They're pretty cozy right now." (Watches them flirt adorably) Jim: "See? Told you my new role is matchmaker!!" (Sparkles smugly) Bones: (groans) "You're unbelievable, Jim. Taking all the credit, as usual." Jim: "Well, I can't help it I'm an expert in the romance division." Bones: "That's highly debatable. You went to the grave hopelessly single." Jim: (sputtering) "At least I had dates up until the day before my heroic demise!! You acted like women had the plague and then awkwardly flirted with Carol. Not exactly Cupid, you were." Bones: (ruffles feathers in agitation) "I was waiting for the right one! Didn't want a repeat of Jocelyn, that's all." (Jim suddenly perks up, glittering intently) Jim: "Look, Bones! I see some hot Vulcan making out going on!! Did you see what they did with their hands?" Bones: (squinting) "Oh, yeah. Whoa. Spock's gettin' frisky with those fingers."(Cringes) "I really didn't need to see that, dammit, Jim! I'm a spirit, not a voyeur!" (Rolls eyes) "I think I'll head back to the Great Beyond now. My great-granny wants to hear all the juicy details. She loved weddings in her time on earth." Jim: "You're such a party pooper even in the afterlife, Bones. I'm going to stick around and watch the holo pics taken. Maybe try to haunt Scotty." Bones: "Suit yourself. Don't accidentally show yourself and scare anybody into a heart attack. You've already made three ladies faint." Jim: "I got carried away. Don't worry, Bones, I won't ruin Spock and Uhura's bliss with my ghostly tricks." (Waves as Leonard flutters away) "They were just overcome by my stunning good looks." (Giggles and sparkles happily.)

#my fics #crack fic #spuhura #mckirk

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risalei-nur · 7 years

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TAFSIR: Risale-i Nur: The Rays Collection:The Eleventh Ray.Part43

A letter written in the name of all the Risale-i Nur students in Isparta to offer congratulations for Ramadan, which has been amended in thirteen sections . In His Name, be He glorified! And there is nothing but it glorifies Him with praise. Our revered Master, who through the effulgence of the Qur'an and truths of the Risale-i Nur and aspirations of his loyal students weeps tears of blood for the well-being of the Islamic world in this world and the next... Who in these stormy days of the end of time is beset with more woes and ills than Job (Peace be upon him), and through the light of the Qur'an, the proofs of the Risale-i Nur and efforts of his students works to cure the ills of the Islamic world like Luqman the Wise, and has proved with thirty-three verses of the Qur'an and the wondrous predictions of Imam 'Ali and the Ghawth al-A'zam that the Risale-i Nur with its different parts is truth and reality... Who although he is himself ill and elderly and weak and in a piteous condition, more than anyone sacrifices his life for the World of Islam and responds to those wrong him with the truths of the Qur'an and proofs of the Risale-i Nur, and through the loyalty of the Risale-i Nur students, with prayers and good works... Who together with his students was sent to prison because one of his important works, The Supreme Sign, was printed, and through the guidance of the Qur'an and teachings of the Risale-i Nur and enthusiasm of his students turned the prison in a 'School of Joseph' and place of learning, and was the cause of all the ignorant among us there learning to read the whole Qur'an, and despite being elderly and weak, through the sacred strength of the Qur'an and solace of the Risale-i Nur and endurance of his brothers, took on himself the loads of all of us, and through the Fruits of Belief and Defence Speeches which he wrote, the miraculousness of the Qur'an of Miraculous Exposition, and the powerful proofs of the Risale-i Nur, and sincerity of his students, with Divine permission had the prison door opened and won our acquittals, and made that day a festival for us and for the Islamic world, and proving that in truth the Risale-i Nur is "Light upon light," won the right for it to be read and written out freely till the end of time... Who has proved with the sacred sustenance of the Qur'an of Mighty Stature and other-worldly food of the Risale-i Nur and appetite of its students, that the World of Islam has need for the Risale-i Nur as it does for water and air, and that thousands of those who have read these treatises and written them out have entered the grave in a state of belief, and has never defeated or embarrassed the students who follow him, and through the heavenly teachings of the Qur'an, the principles of the Risale-i Nur, the intelligence of its students, and the Tenth and Eleventh Topics of the Fruits of Belief and its flowers quenches the fires of separation that night and day sear our hearts, like the water of life and wine of Kawthar, filling them with joy and happiness... Who, in accordance with the certain promises and threats of the Qur'an of Mighty Stature and the certain discoveries of the Risale-i Nur and the observations of its late students and those among them who divine the happenings of the grave, has for the believers saved death -the thing most feared by all the world- from being eternal annihilation and transformed it into a discharge from duties and shown that for the unbelievers and dissemblers it is eternal annihilation; has proved in accordance with the certain news of the Qur'an of Miraculous Exposition, confirmed both by the thousand miracles of Muhammad (Peace and blessings be upon him) and its forty aspects of miraculousness, and endorsed by the proofs of the Risale-i Nur -which proceeds from the Qur'an- which have defeated even its most obdurate enemies and are submitted to by the Risale-i Nur students, and are corroborated too by many signs, experiences, and convictions, that the terrifying, cold, dark and narrow grave is for the believers a pit of Paradise and a door onto the gardens of Paradise, while for the disbelievers and dissembling atheists is a pit of Hell full of snakes and scorpions; and has made the angels called Munkar and Nakir, who will enter there, familiar companions for the people of truth and those who have taken the way of reality; and included the Risale-i Nur students among 'students of the religious sciences,' and discovered on the death of the late heroic martyr Hafiz Ali that they reply to the questions of Munkar and Nakir with the Risale-i Nur, and who beseeches Divine mercy that those of us who are still living will also reply with the Risale-i Nur... Who, through demonstrating an aspect of miraculousness pertaining to each of the forty levels of the Qur'an of Mighty Stature, and through it being the pre-eternal Word of God, and through the works The Miraculousness of the Qur'an and The Eight Symbols from the Risale-i Nur, and the extraordinary efforts of the heroic brothers and students of the Risale-i Nur like the chief writer of the 'Rose Factory,' and through Husrev, one of the heroic scribes of the Risale-i Nur being commanded to "write!", although no one since the time of the Prophet (PBUH) had been able to write it in such miraculous fashion, its being written like the Qur'an inscribed on the Preserved Tablet, - has proved in beautiful and brilliant fashion, never before seen or heard, that the Qur'an of Mighty Stature is the true Word of God, and the greatest of all the revealed books, and that there are thousands of Sura al-Fatiha's within one Sura al-Fatiha, and thousands of Sura al-Ikhlas's within one Sura al-Ikhlas, and that its letters yield ten, a hundred, a thousand, and thousands of merits and good deeds... Who has proved, through the Qur'an of Miraculous Exposition demonstrating its miraculousness for one thousand three hundred years and halting those who oppose it, and through the proofs of the Risale-i Nur that are so clear as to be almost visible, and through the diamond pens of the Risale-i Nur students, that the Twenty-Fifth Word and its Addenda, which have challenged the world and silenced even the most obdurate, are miracles of the Qur'an in forty aspects... Who has proved in the treatise from the Risale-i Nur called The Miracles of Muhammad (PBUH) thousands of miracles showing that Muhammad (Peace and blessings be upon him) was a true Messenger, the lord of all the twenty-four thousand prophets, and the most virtuous of them, and through the Qur'an of Mighty Stature proclaiming to the universe that God's Noble Messenger (PBUH) was sent as a Mercy to All the Worlds, and the Risale-i Nur demonstrating from beginning to end that he was a Mercy to All the Worlds, and showing even to the blind that the Messenger's deeds and conduct are the finest and best example to be followed in the world, and through the testimony of calamities being lifted when the Risale-i Nur is disseminated in Anatolia and other countries, and disasters occurring when it is silenced, and through the firm and steadfast attachment to their work of the Risale-i Nur students despite the extremely difficult circumstances, has shown how profitable it is to follow the practices of that Being (PBUH) and that to follow a single of his practices at this time gains the reward of a hundred martyrs, and has proved absolutely certainly that for twenty years the Risale-i Nur has repulsed the calamities and disasters that would otherwise have been visited on Anatolia, the same as alms-giving repels disaster! Now, since the Risale-i Nur's acquittal has filled with joy foremost our beloved Master, then us impotent, faulty students, then the Islamic world, and occasioned a second festival, we congratulate you on this great festival of yours, and offering our congratulations for Ramadan and the Night of Power, the third festival, we beseech Almighty God we shall see many more, and imploring forgiveness for our faults and the faulty among us, we send the greetings of all here and kiss your blessed hands, and beseech your prayers, o our Master! The Risale-i Nur students in Isparta and its environs * * * To modestly reject this letter, which is a hundred times greater than my due, would be ingratitude and an insult to the favourable opinions of all the students, while to accept it exactly as it is would tell of pride, egotism, and conceit. Therefore, adding thirteen sections, I am sending you a copy of this long letter written by the Risale-i Nur's scribe in everyone's name, both by way of thanks and to be saved from pride and ingratitude. It may be added at the end of the Eleventh Topic with the title: 'A letter from the Risale-i Nur students of Isparta and its environs.' Although I have amended the letter in this way, twice a pigeon alighted at my window. It was going to enter, but saw Ceylan's head and did not. Several minutes later, another alighted in exactly the same way. It too saw the scribe's head and did not come inside. I said: "Most probably these are bearers of good news like the sparrow and 'kuddüs' bird before. Or because we have written this letter like numerous other secret letters, they came to congratulate us on amending the auspicious letter in this way." Said Nursi * * *

#islam #muslim #quran #allah #ayat #solution

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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Padre Pio and the Immaculate Heart of Mary

Story with images:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/padre-pio-immaculate-heart-mary-harold-baines/?published=t

Written by Most Rev. Paola Carta, Bishop Emeritus of Foggia

When I spoke on the theme: "How I saw Padre Pio during my seven years as Bishop of Foggia from 1955 to 1962," I presented Padre Pio's spirituality as "A man of God who prays—absolves—suffers—offers."

Invited again by the Capuchin Friars, custodians of the tomb which is the destination of pilgrims from all the corners of the world, I am most happy to celebrate today and tomorrow the Mass with you and for you, my very dear brethren, inviting you to meditate with me on two other fundamental aspects of the spirituality of Padre Pio. Today Padre Pio and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Tomorrow, God willing, Padre Pio and the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

I wish to consider Padre Pio in the light of the Immaculate Heart of Mary as our Lady revealed it to the three children of Fatima. Having meditated on the personality, spirituality and work of Padre Pio in connection with the most Sacred Heart of Jesus, let us try to penetrate as far as possible with the grace of the Holy Spirit into that marvelous world of the spirit where Padre Pio's heart appears in full harmony with the heart of our Heavenly Mother. For our mutual edification we will meditate on the love and trust Padre Pio placed in Mary Most Holy, on his personal reply to the message of Fatima and on the visit of Our Lady of Fatima to Padre Pio, concluding, as we did yesterday with a confidential talk with the Padre.

I - Love and trust of Padre Pio for our Lady

To understand the love and trust Padre Pio had for our Lady, it would be enough to tell you, my very dear brethren, to look around you! This splendid shrine is a hymn, a poem which sings and praises Padre Pio's devotion to Mary Most Holy! Each stone of this magnificent temple will repeat his name in centuries to come! He wanted this shrine! He succeeded in its incredible realization! People from all parts of the world replied to his moved and moving call for necessary funds to erect this palace to the Queen of Heaven and Earth, honored as Our Lady of Grace! And permit me to remind you of Padre Pio's joy on the day - 1 July 1959 - when, according to his wishes, I had the honor and immense joy of consecrating this church with a solemn rite which lasted exactly four hours!

But apart from this, the whole of Padre Pio's life was lit up with the gentle light of our Lady.

In a letter of 6 May 1913, he gives vent to a delicate filial gentleness, writing: "Here we are at last in the month of our beautiful Mother once again.... This dear Mother continues to lavish her maternal care upon me, especially during the present month. She takes care of me to an exceeding degree.... I am all aflame although there is no fire. I feel myself held fast and bound to the Son by means of this Mother.... I'd like to fly off to invite all creatures to love Jesus and Mary."

The Council and Pope Paul VI proclaimed and acclaimed Mary as Mother of the Church and Padre Pio will continue to repeat for centuries to the faithful who flock here from all the Churches scattered in the world that they must grow in the love of the Mother of the Church.

II - Reply to the message of Fatima

To be our Advocate, our Help, our Mediatrix, our Sign of certain hope and consolation our Lady wanted to manifest her Immaculate Heart to the world. She appeared to three children at Fatima, exactly 80 years ago. It is a beautiful story. It is a story, not a legend. This was confirmed by the pilgrimage of Paul VI, years ago, for the fiftieth anniversary of the apparitions, with the participation of an immense crowd and Lucia, the survivor of the three small seers, still alive today, a nun in the Convent of Saint Teresa at Coimbra in Portugal with the name of Sister Lucia of the Immaculate Heart.

At Fatima our Lady gave a message, a message from Heaven, a message of salvation, that is included in the story of salvation as a new divine intervention of salvation. The summary is contained in these precise words heard by the three children during the apparitions from May to October 1917: "You have seen hell where the souls of poor sinners go. To save them our Lord wants to establish in the world devotion to my Immaculate Heart. Pray a lot and make sacrifices for sinners. Take note that many souls go to hell because there is no one who prays or makes sacrifices for them. Do you wish to offer yourselves to God, ready to accept all the sufferings He wishes to send you in reparation for the sins with which He is offended and to obtain the conversion of sinners? Say the Rosary every day. The most holy Hearts of Jesus and Mary listen to your petitions."

This message of Fatima called for a reply on behalf of the whole church; a reply of prayer and sacrifice, animated also with a spirit of reparation for sins.

I think I can assert that in the half century which followed, no one in the Church has given a more complete reply than Padre Pio. The maternal anxiety of the Immaculate Heart of Mary for the souls going to hell had profoundly and completely invaded the heart of Padre Pio, who made of his whole life a great sacrifice to our Lord to snatch souls away from eternal damnation.

1. Our Lady of Fatima asked especially for the prayer of the Rosary. And who could count the hours Padre Pio spent in prayer for the conversion and salvation of sinners? And who more than he held the rosary in his hand, night and day, filling all the free moments of the day with the most devout recital of the Rosary? And with how much loving insistence did he not recommend the Rosary to everyone as a means of salvation!

One day one of his penitents said to him: "Padre, today they say the Rosary is out of date, that it is no longer in fashion. It is no longer said in many churches." He replied: "Let us do what our fathers did and all will be well with us." "But Satan rules the world." Padre Pio replied: "Because they make him rule; can a spirit rule by itself if it is not united to the human will? We could not have been born in a more depraved world. The one who prays a lot saves himself. The one who prays little is in danger.

The one who does not pray loses his soul."

"Padre, say something to us."

"Love our Lady, make others love her. Always say your Rosary and say it well. Satan always tries to destroy this prayer, but he will never succeed. It is the prayer of her who triumphs over everything and everyone."

And two days before he died, he repeated: "Love our Lady and make her loved. Recite the Rosary and recite it always. And recite it as much as you can."

2. Our Lady of Fatima also asked for sacrifices, acts of mortification, penances and sufferings accepted or spontaneously embraced to save souls from hell.

How well did our dear Padre Pio understand this need! In fact he said: "Souls are not given as gifts; they are bought. You do not know what they cost Jesus. Now they still have to be bought always with the same coin."

And Padre Pio paid and bought souls at a most high price: with heroic penance, with food, with sleep, with rest, with the martyrdom of fifty-eight years in the ministry of confession; with sufferings derived from misunderstandings and prohibitions and serious disciplinary measures taken against him at various times of his life, through no fault of his; with enormous difficulties to overcome to build the Home for the Relief of Suffering; and above all with the crucifixion which lasted exactly half a century with open wounds. A victim completely sacrificed for sinners. And that was Padre Pio's reply to the message of Fatima.

III - Our Lady of Fatima visits Padre Pio

This heroic reply of Padre Pio's deserved a sign of maternal pleasure from our Lady. And the sign was marvelous.

Towards the end of April 1959 a statue of the Immaculate Heart of Mary that had come specially from Fatima was traveling all over Italy by helicopter, stopping at the provincial capitals. But San Giovanni Rotondo is not a provincial capital, and on the other hand, Padre Pio could not go to Foggia where at that time I was bishop of that dear and beautiful diocese and had prepared a triumphal reception for the traveling Madonna. Amongst other things he could not come because just when the statue arrived in Italy, Padre Pio was struck down by a bad attack of pleurisy, that made it impossible for him to even celebrate Mass from 5 May onwards. And the illness continued so that he was still prostrate when our Lady arrived in Puglia.

But could the Mother with an Immaculate Heart so sensitive and delicate not visit her dearest son, Padre Pio? And the extraordinary exception, the change of schedule was granted!

The arrival of the Marian statue was fixed for 5 August. The people had to be prepared to receive our Lady with great fervor, with immense joy, with filial love and abundant spiritual fruits. And it was Padre Pio who from his sick bed spoke with a loud speaker to the faithful gathered in the church for a novena.

I now give some edifying particulars from a biography of Padre Pio.

On 27 July Padre Pio announced the beginning of the novena "for the visit the Heavenly Mother wants to make" and he exhorted to prepare for it with Christian renewal. Every evening he reminded them of the joy, the good fortune, the "very special grace" of this visit and the obligation of a worthy welcome above all with the practice of some virtues. On the evening of 4 August he announced that "the visit of our Mother" would be within a "few hours" and it was necessary not to be found "with empty hands." On 5 August he announced with emotion: "In a few minutes our Mother will be in our house... Open your heart." Finally on the evening of 6 August, he urged them to give thanks, to commit themselves "enthusiastically... permanently just as our Mother's eye is permanently on us."

During the morning of 6 August, the Padre was able to go down to the church. He stopped in front of the statue of our Lady — but had to sit down because he was exhausted — and he gave her a gold rosary. The statue was lowered before his face and he was able to kiss her. It was a most affectionate gesture.

Between two and three in the afternoon of 6 August the helicopter carrying the statue of our Lady rose from the terrace of the Home for Relief of Suffering headed for Sicily. It did three turns over the crowd gathered on the square in front of the church and flew away.

From a window Padre Pio watched the helicopter fly away with eyes filled with tears. To our Lady in flight Padre Pio lamented with a confidence that was all his own: "My Lady, my Mother, you came to Italy and I got sick, now you are going away and you leave me still ill."

At that instant he felt a shudder in all his person. As long as he lived he repeated. "In that very instant I felt a sort of shudder in my bones which cured me immediately." His Spiritual Father confirmed it saying: "In a moment the Padre felt a mysterious force in his body and said to his confreres: 'I am cured'." He was healthy and strong as never before in his life.

Informed about an article that appeared in Foggia, which asked why Our Lady of Fatima had gone to San Giovanni Rotondo and not the shrine of Saint Michael at Monte Sant' Angelo, Padre Pio explained with enchanting simplicity: "Our Lady came here because she wanted to cure Padre Pio."

I like to add that she also came because the example of Padre Pio's ardent devotion and his prodigious recovery would rouse in Italy and the world a fervent increase of love and confidence towards the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

And from this marvelous episode we must make a holy resolution to grow always in this devotion with a generous reply to the message of Fatima, reciting fervently the Rosary every day, praying and offering our sufferings for the conversion of sinners, receiving Communion on the first Saturdays of the month in the hope that the consoling words will come true for us: "I promise salvation to all those who practice devotion to my Immaculate Heart. These souls will be most dear to God, and like flowers I will place them before his throne." Like this we can even look to the future of the Church and humanity with serenity, trustful in the prophetic word of Mary who in her third apparition of 13 July 1917 announced: "In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph."

Conversing with the Padre

Allow me to conclude this meditation with a confidential talk with the Padre.

Beloved Padre Pio, I remember an episode that took place one day during a civil war. On the facade of a church someone had written in large letters this appeal: "Fratelli, armatevi!" (Brothers, arm yourselves!"). A woman, a mother who had gone to church to pray fervently for peace, saw that writing, was profoundly struck and afflicted. Then she had a bright and marvelous idea. She went up to the word "armatevi" (arm yourselves) and cancelled the letter R. And the appeal was transformed. No longer: "Fratelli, armatevi" but Fratelli amatevi!" (Brothers love each other).

Beloved Padre you know that today in Italy there are those who spread in various ways this fratricidal appeal: "Fratelli, armatevi." And in fact how many young men belong to armed groups, how many go around with weapons ready to shoot! And how many acts of violence, how many murders have stained with blood the streets of Italy in these last years! And how many mothers in tears, how many brides, widows, how many orphaned children.

Dear Padre Pio, listen to me. Now that you contemplate our Lady in the brightness of her celestial beauty, you who see her sitting at the right side of her Son, who refuses her nothing, pray to her so that she intervenes with her Immaculate Heart, with her Mother's Heart and from the word "armatevi" cancel the R so that the cry "Fratelli, amatevi, amatevi!" is taken up by all and echoes from one end of Italy to the other.

Yes, dear Padre, I recommended the whole world to you for the triumph of the Civilization of Love. Today I ask for the salvation of Italy in particular, in this grave hour of its history. You who have so loved and honored it with the splendour of your sanctity, see to it that Italy faithfully fulfills the mission given it by Divine Providence of announcing from Rome the message of the Gospel of Christ, from Assisi the Franciscan message of Peace and Good and from San Giovanni Rotondo your message of love for our Lady!

#padre pio

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