#the hypocrisy of the left knows no bounds

[simply-ivanka]

[way-of-love]

Oops - (ONESHOT) (Miguel O’Hara x FEMReader) (18+ ONLY) (R- RATED)(SPOILERS)

Well, guess Miguel must really like mouths and you just enjoy giving it to him!

WARNINGS: Forced Oral; bondage; hate x love; sadist; threat of using… ALL holes; biting; smut; spit; bubbly spit; juices (: ; GWAK GWAK 3000

This couldn’t go on for much longer could it? He had to get tired at some point right? No man should have such strength or even stamina to keep this up for so long. Yet you always forget he’s not like any man. You lost track of time in this room, wherever this room was.

Tired and overly-sensitive, you bit your lip hard stoping the whimper coming out when you felt the tip of a talon pressing against the very tip of your overly rubbed clit. Your legs quivered and your body jerked from the contact. Torture is what it was yet it felt euphoric.

You were bound to a chair with thick glowing red webs bitting into your sweaty flesh keeping your legs tied, spread and your arms bound behind the chair. It didn’t hurt but it was uncomfortable to stay like this for hours. You weren’t sure how much you could withstand before eventually passing out.

“Enough! Miguel please!” You finally groaned out desperately tossing your head back.

Miguel stood in the darkness of the room, a sole light illuminating you were you sat and he hid his face within the shadows where his bloody red eyes glowed. And those eyes took in your sorry state with a dark satisfaction. And that satisfaction of his left you vulnerable, naked and bare for his dark devices.

He made you into this mess of a woman because he realized this was the best way to shut you up.

Yelling, scolding, trying to go over his authority when he already gave you a direct order. Yet, you betray him with your…free will.

“Look at you, que porquería.” He speaks quietly, cold with mock sweetness.

Miguel may have been close enough to touch you but you still couldn’t see his face. Clearly he was angry no, furious.

“Miguel… I know you’re angry but you don’t have to go—“ Your eyes widen and a shriek left your bruised lips when you felt him pinch your poor rose bud between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it like a small little bead.

He growled in annoyance bracing a hand on the back of the flimsy chair you were tied to shaking it a bit as he leaned over your face. His brows here angled and furrowed, his eyes lacked that usual sarcastic dull shine. Now they were brimming with a fiery anger that seemed to light them up.

“You! Have pissed me off for the last fucking TIME Y/N.” He sneered down at you, seething in anger as he continued to roll your clit between your forced parted thighs. Your eyes squeezed shut as a breathy moan left you.

You’ve both been at this for hours, and he still hasn’t eased off of you. All because you befriended and defended that kid, Miles. Out of everyone who was there you called Miguel out on his hypocrisy. Putting all the blame from the collider incident on that poor teen all while calling him an anomaly. Yet, he never considered that the only anomaly was that Spot guy.

It turned into a whole argument, things being thrown at one another before he used his superhuman abilities against you forcing you into this room, stripped naked and tied. Of course you fought and bit but he was superior in strength. You were just human with a very big brain.

“I…I get it… but please,” You licked your lips,” Talk. Let’s talk please?” Your voice was hoarse, shaky and breathless.

You’ve begged him to stop countless of times before and each time he dismissed your pleas with the wave of your hand doing as he liked to punish you for your insubordination.

Yet, while you looked so pathetic naked and tied to the chair with with his webs bitting into your plush skin he realized he should have done this much, much sooner. Seeing you unable to move struggling to be freed from his webs stroked a fire within him.

Grabbing your cheeks with the hand he had behind your chair, he squeezes them until your lips are perked, and he looks down at them sneering,” Talk? I’m done talking to you.”

He then smirks and you see a small spark of emotion in his angry red eyes, a hint of lust. He gets closer and brushes his lips against your perked ones, “ Siempre estás hablando.(T:You’re always talking) You’re very lucky I don’t tear these lips of yours off with my teeth.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his threat feeling both excitement and arousal spiking slightly. If anyone else was on the receiving end of that threat they’d think he was being serious but you, God, you knew he was bluffing. Those fangs of his were solely for show.

He let your face go instantly making your head swing a bit to the side. Your cheeks hurt where he grabbed and squeezed you.

“Guess…a sorry is in order,” You mumbled with a hint of annoyance.

You look down glancing at your self. Sweaty quivering thighs forced apart and held apart by those glowing webs of his. And a pool of, no doubt, your juices he managed to get out of you dripping over the edge of the chair. This was embarrassing. Humiliating even. Only if you were caught you’d feel humiliated.

If Miles, Gwen or even Hobie saw how pathetic you looked in the hands of Miguel they’d no doubt take pity but you didn’t want that. You were enduring this for their sake.

Were you really? For their sake?

Even if it was for their sake… you still found yourself yearning for more of this…punishment he was bringing down on you.

“ ‘Sorry’ isn’t good enough Y/N. ‘Sorry’ is for when you step on someone’s foot.” He exclaimed coldly while he walked behind you. “This goes beyond sorry. Years beyond a simple apology.”

Raising your head you stared off into the darkness of the room of the room sensing his warmth behind you. His own cool scent of fresh mint, amrboxan amber and cedar wood. The intoxicating concoction of both his smell and sweat were driving you crazy stirring your insides like an aphrodisiac.

Your mind was going in the worst of directions the more you filled your lungs with that smell. All these ‘what if’s’ and scenarios of him and you with sweaty bodies meshed together in unison like a symphony.

Miguel always played you until you were at the peak of your performance. But you knew there could be more, there is more!

You sighed out a response,”Then I take it back, I’m not sorry.”

Defiance is considered open resistance or bold disobedience and it was something Miguel could never let slide. He hated when things didn’t go his way or when people never followed their written roles. And as of right now you weren’t following his regiment.

You could hear his deep sigh of disapproval, his breath falling over the top of your head. His bare hand sliding over your jaw cups your chin and forces your head back roughly. It makes you groan and wince from the force.

Miguel leans in lips brushing against your ear, “Tempting me is a dangerous game, you know that right?”

You roll your eyes as he let you go suddenly. Was he done? Was he satisfied with this punishment? Rolling your head a bit you felt his warmth disappear for a moment but he suddenly came back and your chair was tilted back making you squeal out in surprise.

The control freak tilted your chair back enough where your toes or the chairs front legs weren’t touching the ground. He tilted you back enough so you were crotch height and the top of your head had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting what he truly was hiding behind his blue suit.

“Oops,” He mumbled starring down at you with that unimpressed expression of his. You narrowed your eyes at him. Miguel felt no shame about what he planned on doing next or rather he wouldn’t be feeling bad about it. His thumb hooked around the frontal part of his suit waistband and began to tug it down. Now you began to resist some more when you realized just what he planned on doing.

“M-miguel… you can’t be serious—“ Sucking someone off was not new to you but sucking them off being held upside down like this would definitely be a first.

“Relax. I’m holding the chair,” And to confirm it for you he shook the chair where he held it making you jiggle a bit, “and besides, I think this is the best way to shut you up.”

You and Miguel have never had intercourse or even fooled around before these ‘punishments’ of his began. Was he really doing this to punish you or could he not hold in his own desire anymore? Whichever it was you watched him tug the rest of his suit down revealing himself.

It was long, thick and strong. God he was hard already as if he was waiting for this very moment; his balls heavy, swollen looking hung right above your forehead. You felt your wet cunt throb at the sight. Veins popped up on his pelvis just as thick veins decorated his cock, a very thick one was obviously noticeable on his underside and so was a thick one on his side.

While you gawked at his rod that shadowed over your face he smirked satisfied.

“You have such a big bold mouth. Let’s hope it’s big enough for this,” His voice came out thick and heavy with lust.

Looking up at him fully you licked your swollen lips, “ Then say please,” You looked back at his cock that hovered right above your face.

Miguel tilted his head as he reached for your face, the back of his gloved hand brushing against your cheek before he ran that thumb if his across your upside down swollen lips. By the looks of it, it was going to be a pretty tight fit.

“Say please,” He scoffs slowly sliding his thumb into your mouth. It slid around your bottom teeth feeling up each tooth, rubbing against your gums spreading and smearing your spit to your top teeth.

“Por favor? Déjame usar tu boca.”His voice came out in almost a whisper as he continued to play with your teeth and spit. (T: Please? Let me use your mouth.)

You had no idea what he was doing but hearing him say please in his mother tongue caused you to melt and nod your head without a second thought.

Slowly his thumb came and hooked itself onto your inner cheek pulling the corner of your mouth wider. He scooted forward and the very tip of his bare cock lightly pressing against your upper lip, it couldn’t enter properly because your mouth wasn’t completely wide open.

“Cmon, don’t play with me Y/N” He mumbled quietly in annoyance yet when you looked at him he looked nothing close to annoyed. The poor man looked restless, restrained even. His thumb finally slipped away and went back to caressing your bottom lip.

Oh, so he wanted this just as badly. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of him wanting you and you denying him. Unfortunately, tonight wasn’t the night to deny him flat out. Instead you giggled against his tip.

“Mmmm, what if I bit it?” You looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eye.

He closed his red eyes briefly as if taking a moment to register the many outcomes of you taking a bite out of his cock before opening them staring right at you with his cold glare, “I’ll keep fucking your throat until you choke on both my cock and blood. Then I’ll fuck your other two holes, actually,” The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he looked out toward the bottom half of your naked tied body.

Your smile fell when he glanced right back at you with a heated, toothy mean grin, “All three of your holes, I will fuck until you cry. And even then I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

You shouldn’t have believed him. Because it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be possible… after all three holes? Your mouth which was about to be occupied; your pussy which would happily accept him; your ass which may need some getting used to but it was most than willing. Your third hole… was he referring to…that hole?

It should have disgusted you but for some reason, your body hummed at the thought of him exploiting every inch of you.

“You promise?” Breathless.

“Siempre.”

Your mouth opened and your tongue slid right out, he groaned out and made no hesitation to cradle the back of your neck while slipping his length right into the depths of your wet, hot mouth.

Salty.

Hot.

Hard.

Those were the words you’d describe the feeling of his cock finally sheathing itself into your mouth and his sack falling lightly over your forehead. If you weren’t still tied up you’d more than likely would grip the back of his thighs and force him more into your mouth. But he was in control.

Miguel gripped the chair tighter as he held it still and gingerly held the back of your neck at an angle to force more of his girth into your tight mouth. Right now your lips were already stretching and taking him in very well much to his surprise.

As soon as he felt that resistance he stopped pushing watching you carefully. You weren’t gagging, yet. That wasn’t a good sign. This was a punishment after all, it wouldn’t be fun if he was careful with you. Licking his lips he released a breath.

“You’re not gonna like what I’m about to do,” His thumb lightly ram over the base of your throat.

Your eyes opened and your brows furrowed in confusion. What did ge mean? Tied to a chair with his webs, tilted back and forced to give him a blow job wasn’t all he planned on doing?

Before you could mumble or indicate to him you wanted to speak he let go of the chair only to quickly use that hand to join the other in cupping the back of your neck. The chair tilted further back and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, and your mouth tightened a bit around his cock. You thought you were going to fall to the ground and hurt your arms that were tied behind the chair but much to your surprise you did.

Opening your eyes against you peeked or tried to, to see Miguel but instead of seeing his concentrating face you saw his head tilted back and his chest rising and falling a bit quickly.

Miguel groaned out while letting the sweet sensation of your throat suddenly close around what little was in there around him. And your teeth, you bit lightly into him but it felt so… good. Tilting his head back down at you, you saw just how aroused he was.

This man wasn’t even half way down your throat and he already was ready to burst, “You’re… bitting. Bueno. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,”

Oh, you felt a shiver run through you. His voice was dark, breathless and filled with arousal. You’d never heard nor seen him like this in the past.

Suddenly his thumbs cradled the sides of your delicate neck, they only gentleness he’ll show you. His stance changed with legs spread further apart and the distance between your head and his groin grew a bit. You fisted your hands and shut your eyes bracing for impact.

When it came you squealed around him, well tried to. It sounded like you were drowning. His hips came in and out like a piston, forcing the entirety of his long cock down to the back of your throat. You tried to move your head but with his hands holding your neck your movements were limited.

Your body squirmed and jerked as he used your mouth with no concern for your safety. Balls slapping against your nose with each thrust of his hips.

It was maddening. He was going wild.

Furthermore, he was enjoying himself. His expression you could not see but you could hear his groans and hisses through the squelching, ball slapping. It sounded like music to your ears. He was in pleasure after all these years torturing you he was also torturing himself which lead to him finally snapping at you.

All these years and he had to withhold all of these emotions, these trivial feelings that made him want to jump at you every time you opened your mouth and defied him. The first time it happened, he didn’t take pleasure in it. He tested the waters and each and every time you spoke out the ‘punishment’ was more sever each time.

Alas, today was the day of reckoning for him. As much as he gave you, he’ll take back. He’ll rid himself of this silly attraction, this obstacle and shut you up for good. That way you won’t mess with his emotions, his plans, his life.

Groaning he felt you gag around his cock finally. And it made him slow down just to hear you struggle to take him in. Yes, just like this he’ll shut you right up.

Miguel hissed lowly, “ That’s it,” He looked down at where his cock was connected to you seeing the bubbly saliva wrapping around his thick length and your mouth.

“Remember this Y/N. Every time you open your mouth to say anything against me, remember this feeling of you choking on my cock like a virgin,” He spat down you feeling elated.

And you, with bubbly spit falling down your cheeks felt a hunger you’ve never felt before. Your cunt weeped for touch, throbbed to squeeze something that could stretch it but instead all it received was the ghost of him.

You had his fingers knuckle deep driving you towards orgasm after orgasm, taunting you every time you came. He was wicked. Telling you this would only get worse each time she defied him. But for some reason your body moved on its own as if…as if it was calling to him.

With lack of air you tried to fight him, struggle to get at least an ounce of air but your struggle was futile. Eventually he gave you a break suddenly slowing down and coming to a complete stop.

He was breathing heavily above you as he remained still keeping himself balls deep inside your saliva coated mouth. Slowly, he pulled back dragging his sloppy cock out of your mouth.

Once he was out you took in a loud gasp of air coughing a bit as he took a hand back to grip the chair and kept it tilted.

“You…will never go…against my word again. Understand?” He was panting and his cock was visibly throbbing coated in your spit. Miguel was holding back and you weren’t sure why but you weren’t about to find out.

You opened your mouth wide and kept your tongue out as an open invitation for him to continue, to release all of his frustrations onto you or rather in you. His hold tightened on the chair and the back of your neck seeing you willingly wanting to pleasure him.

“Mierda.”(T: Fuck.)

———————————-

So I made an AI based off this fic so let me know what you think and please let me know if it’s buggy!

[scoobydoodean]

Oh boy oh boy… so many thoughts on this. Some of which I’ve already talked about… a few things though:

Sam is happy to call Dean a hypocrite, and that’s a very normal, “signs point here” every 1/2 mile reading of season 2 if you’re on a rewatch and hear Dean say “What’s dead should stay dead” in 2.04 and 2.08 knowing he’s going to make a demon deal to bring Sam back in 2.22, and then if that isn’t enough for you to catch on, Azazel and Bobby make this reading very plain in 2.22. The person whose own hypocrisy is allowed to fly under the radar (as usual) is Sam. Sam who was happy to tell Dean more than once this season that Dean was morally/duty-bound to execute his little brother “because dad said so” and “you promised me when I guilted you into trying to console me with lies while I was drunk”. Sam who never spent a single millisecond the whole season thinking about the darkness he was asking Dean to immerse himself in by regurgitating John’s order for Dean to be responsible for the entire course of Sam’s life and off his own brother if needed. It’s even reasonable to conclude the reason Dean came back “twisted and broken”, was only partly because of how he was brought back. It was also (arguably more-so—based on context from Croatoan) the weight of the words “save Sam or kill him”, that ripped Dean apart from the inside out, made him tired and terrified and ready to die in a jarring turn right after the high of 2.01 where he was desperate to live and was an active participant in coordinating with Sam to save himself—we’re a far far cry from that now in 3.01 but Sam doesn’t actually consider why despite “I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life . . . this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it” blinking like a neon sign in 2.09 just hours before Dean finally told Sam what John asked of him as a dying wish.

As an aside, this squabble started with Sam wanting to take Dean to a hoodoo priest—another faith healing, just like the one that took someone’s life from them in 1.12 in exchange for Dean’s health—the first moment where Dean feels “I’m not supposed to be here and because I am someone else isn’t” and is left to carry that around—a major catalyst for Dean’s actions in 2.22.

[edenmemes]

overwatch 2 starters

more to be added !

❝ umm...you need aim training. ❞   ❝ if we do this right, they won’t even know what happened. ❞   ❝ can’t change the world by following all the rules. ❞   ❝ somebody has to stand up for the people. ❞   ❝ i’ll find my own path. ❞   ❝ if anybody asks, i was never here. ❞ ❝ seeking progress by sowing chaos is like planting a tree in a volcano. ❞ ❝ i was born to rule. ❞ ❝ do you remember that night? dancing until dawn. ❞ ❝ you have an intense gaze. ❞ ❝ when i look at you, i see pure unadulterated chaos. ❞   ❝ someone has to do the dirty work. ❞   ❝ you’re too good with that gun to waste it on a life of crime. ❞ ❝ i’ve taken naps harder than you. ❞ ❝ why seek answers when we do not know the question? ❞ ❝ i warned you. should have listened. ❞ ❝ i could not bear being the man they’d made of me. ❞ ❝ there’ll be consequences for that. ❞ ❝ forgive me. my mind has been...turbulent, lately. ❞ ❝ you’re either braver or dumber than you look to come back here. ❞ ❝ here’s the plan: do what i do, listen to what i say, and don’t screw this up. ❞   ❝ you remind me of myself when i was younger. ❞   ❝ licked my wounds. let’s go. ❞ ❝ honor is all i have left. ❞ ❝ i have a feeling we’re going to get along. ❞ ❝ i expect better from you. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to talk about it. ❞ ❝ you count on me, i count on you. ❞ ❝ you only lose if you stay down. ❞ ❝ dark clouds gather on the horizon. a storm is coming. ❞ ❝ eh...i’ve got plenty of teeth left. ❞ ❝ we can still be friends, right? ❞ ❝ look at the state of the world. something has to change. ❞   ❝ i’m just getting started. ❞   ❝ you know better than to turn your back on me. ❞ ❝ heh, did i scare you? ❞ ❝ if they won’t quit, neither will i. ❞ ❝ make sure you’re ready. who knows what we’ll find out there. ❞ ❝ talk to the hand. ❞ ❝ i’ve done things i’m not proud of. time to start making up for it. ❞   ❝ i love a good brawl. ❞   ❝ hm...why does this place feel familiar? ❞ ❝ don’t you ever wanna settle down? ❞   ❝ you can’t escape death. ❞   ❝ watch your step. it’s a long way down. ❞ ❝ meh, that party was boring. ❞ ❝ what’s right isn’t always legal. ❞ ❝ you know better than to show your face around here. ❞ ❝ my throne is where i say it is. ❞   ❝ i do not cower in the presence of evil. ❞ ❝ you’re not on my level. ❞   ❝ a friend told me that you’re getting rusty. ❞ ❝ i'm trying. please, be patient with me. ❞ ❝ did you eat the last slice of pie? i was saving it for later. ❞ ❝ i craft my own arrows. each one. ❞   ❝ pain means you’re alive! until it doesn’t. ❞   ❝ every time i need a laugh, i look at your search history. ❞   ❝ looks like somebody wants the death penalty. ❞ ❝ i don’t give up that easily. ❞   ❝ anger made you stronger. ❞ ❝ if you screw this up, i’ll kill you myself. ❞ ❝ someone always cares. you must simply seek them out. ❞ ❝ you are spending your life walking a lonely road. ❞ ❝ must you be so relaxed? we depend on you! ❞ ❝ try not to look too relieved. ❞   ❝ it is not unlike you to disappear without warning. ❞ ❝ you were being rude. ❞   ❝ you know, anger management classes might help you with that temper. ❞ ❝ what seems like magic is sometimes science we don’t yet understand. ❞ ❝ yes, let’s discuss morality. and hypocrisy while we’re at it. ❞ ❝ dead weight gets left behind. ❞ ❝ i still feel that final blow from yesterday’s training. ❞ ❝ i have always been bound to my duty. now, i have nothing. ❞ ❝ you care too much about how your family perceives you. ❞ ❝ you know i’m not going to tell you. ❞ ❝ clear head. sharp eyes. ❞ ❝ are you planning to whine the whole time...again? ❞ ❝ it was not easy, living in your shadow. ❞ ❝ do you know what happened to the last man i trusted? ❞ ❝ you’re less handsome when you talk. ❞ ❝ such confidence! let’s hope it’s not unfounded. ❞ ❝ do not speak to me unless you wish to lose an eye. ❞ ❝ everything’s a game to you. ❞ ❝ you stand for everything wrong in this world. ❞ ❝ i’m the best. that’s all you need to know. ❞ ❝ you were truly fearsome in your prime. ❞ ❝ you’ve been distant lately. ❞ ❝ one day, you’ll pay for all the crimes you’ve committed. ❞ ❝ working with you has always made me sick. ❞ ❝ ooh...is the little birdie finally leaving her cage? ❞ ❝ it’s called personal space. ❞   ❝ same saccharine tongue, same empty head. ❞ ❝ i assure you, we are nothing alike. ❞ ❝ something smells foul. is it you? ❞ ❝ quit being so humble. nothing work with being proud of your work. ❞ ❝ all you need for battle is your heart and your head. ❞ ❝ plan to win, or expect to lose. ❞ ❝ how can you live with yourself? so many people have died because of you. ❞ ❝ i’ll be watching your back out there. ❞ ❝ you’re cuter up close. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your pity. ❞ ❝ there’s no easy way to say this: i read your poetry folder. ❞ ❝ yeah, we’re gonna need reinforcements. ❞   ❝ i never miss my mark. ❞   ❝ i gave you a chance, and you wasted it. ❞ ❝ i’ve always liked being the underdog. ❞ ❝ we could have had a beautiful partnership... ❞ ❝ any words of wisdom before the battle starts? ❞ ❝ don’t be so hard on yourself. ❞ ❝ didn’t i say i’d rip your tongue out if i ever saw you again? ❞ ❝ true tacticians do not plan. they act and force others to react. ❞ ❝ i’m not giving up on you. ❞ ❝ your voice, ever sonorous, is like a gentle waterfall upon my ears. ❞ ❝ rage is your weakness. ❞ ❝ just looking for something we might have in common... ❞ ❝ you’ll feel that one tomorrow. ❞   ❝ the path shapes you. the spirits perfect you. ❞   ❝ i’m not relaxed. i just make everything look easy. ❞ ❝ you have an admirable peace about you. ❞ ❝ do you hear yourself? ugh, you’re the worst. ❞ ❝ pondering anything unusual? dangerous? ❞ ❝ flattery will get you the grave. ❞ ❝ ain’t easy, is it? being in charge of killers and madmen. ❞ ❝ there is nothing to that name but pain. ❞ ❝ your weapons are impressive, but you lack the strength to wield them. ❞

[reginarubie]

AHHHh!! *Screaming and rolling around in my bed from the updates*

dang my jonsa heart melting did you see Sansa already planning out her future good mother a gift. And Jon being taken off guard by her gentle nature and the pack antics. I'm so weak for this duo. And Ned keeping his receipt is wonderful!! Specially after the attempt on his family's life I'm glad he was aware that communication may also be intercepted.

Now I adore Rhae's characterization another fresh what-if interpretation of her character! Showcasing her Dorne blood AND Trag god complex with their "pure blood". I like how her husband seems like a good person able to still calm the paranoia creeping in. Also, the way she and Egg decided the fate of Sansa and Egg's child while she herself didn't want a political match has me shaking me head.

Hi nonny!,

actually thank you because I have happened upon a couple of comments about Rhaenys which have left me a bit sad because I feel like somehow she has been miscontrued.

First of all, excellent take on my Rhaenys, because you have hit the nail on the head, she is a dornish woman — which we see in several moments — but she also has the Targaryen holier-than-thou attitude which is ingrained in all Targaryen we have seen so far. Even "bully" Jon has a touch of it. And yes, as we say in Italy, they did their sums without the master — hanno fatto i conti senza l'oste — though as it would be Aegon's child he is well within his right for medieval time to choose up ahead whom to betroth them to.

Also yes, after living all of his life believing the Starks had abandoned them and living in a toxic environment created by Rhaegar, let's not forget that Rhaegar basically pit one son against the other, either out of spite for how his hand was forced or because he wanted to test both; being with the Starks is like a breath of fresh air, and he is really charmed by Sansa' charming attitude.

Also yes, people give Ned way too little credit, in canon the man managed to keep Jon's parentage a secret until his death and his teachings are still moving his children. It only made sense that Ned would keep the receipt.

Now, since you happened to comment on Rhaenys I am going to jump at the chance and actually address some of the claims that have been made about her in the chapter that I feel have not been really in line with the Rhaenys I wrote.

First of all, obviously everyone has the right to say their own piece about what they read and are allowed to their interpretation, but as the writer I feel like I need to clarify a couple of points.

So, the accusation moved toward Rhaenys is that she is an hypocrit which she is not, and in brief order I will address those points I think need clarification:

The first point made was that Rhaenys was apparently showing her hypocrisy by not realizing how much her and Lyanna' journeys were similar. Which they aren't and let me explain why imo it is so.

It is not true that the only difference between what Lyanna did and what Rhaenys has done is that no war was fought about it. If you really think about it, their circumstances are vastly different.

For easiness of navigation Lyanna's name shall be in blue, whilst Rhaenys in red.

Lyanna was very much younger than Rhaenys was when she chose to defy Aegon for her husband.

Lyanna, despite being betrothed to Robert — so bound in some way to Robert, though we still don't know in canon if the match had been finalized or not; which in this story we know Lyanna based off her right to not marry over the fact she and Robert had not yet taken the vows of betrothal — eloped (in this story; if most of you follow me, you know I feel like Lyanna in canon was manipolated and seduced by Rhaegar and later secluded) with a married man, who happened to be the heir to the Iron throne, whose wife was still very much alive (and not set aside, as lawfully there would be no ground to annull their marriage) and who had given him two children (both alive; one of whom was the second in line to the Iron throne). On the contrary, Rhaenys eloped with a man whilst much older than her, who had been in a marriage before her, but that marriage had prove fruitless and was done with by the time he and Rhaenys married and whilst it was not yet specified in further chapter we would have learnt that his first wife unable to have children had chosen the Faith thus their marriage had been nullified.

Lyanna told no one of her choice to elope, Rhaenys instead enlised her uncle's help (the Hand of the King's help) before eloping. So there were people aware of Rhaenys choice, which, if the Starks had been aware of Lyanna' love for Rhaegar (or their possibly void marriage) things could've gone much different.

Also, whilst the are gap is similar between Lyanna/Rhaegar and Rhaenys/Aeleski, it is also true that Rhaenys was older than Lyanna was, so better equipped to decide if that love was worth the consequences that may come.

And that's point one, and I think that everyone can agree the similarity between Rhaenys and Lyanna are not even skin-deep.

The second point made was that Lyanna made her choice to love a man and the same did Rhaenys and that both did whatever necessary to stay with that man (case in point, eloping) even against the wishes of their families. Which brings us back to points 2 and 3 previously discussed. On the top of that, Rhaenys was never expresselly forbidden from marrying Aeleski, yes, her king and the head of her House secluded her in Maegor's Holdfast but they were negotiating, so technically Rhaenys did go against a direct order but not against a decree. And in many chapters it has been repeated that this was the only case in which Rhaenys defied Aegon or any other man of her family and again she was backed by the Hand of the King, which is no small thing.

Another point made was that she's upset that Aerys rejected Elia from going to Dragonstone with the children but doesn't bat an eyelash about Aegon keeping Lyanna and Jon at court. And here, again, circumstances are much different.

as in this AU Rhaegar was winning the rebellion, Elia was still his wife and the current princess consort of Dragostone, in full wartime, while Aerys was within his rights as king, to keep her at court, if he sent the rest of the Targaryen household to Dragonstone (which was Elia' seat through marriage) he ought to have sent Elia and the chidren as well, especially since her husband was subduing the Rebels.

Rhaenys remembers how tramautizing it was to live at court during that time. Aerys had gone mad, and Rhaenys doesn't have nightmares about him hunting her for nothing. Just imagine what she has lived through, and what that war caused her both from her own side — her grandfather — and the fear of the enemies.

Neither Rhaegar or Aegon are told to have been cruel toward anyone, thus neither Lyanna not Jon suffered what Rhaenys, Aegon and Elia suffered in that time.

Lyanna as she chose to remain at court to stay near her son and the man she loved became part of the Targaryen household as recognized Favorite (and potential wife) especially since Rhaegar entrusted her in Aegon's care when he died; plus, Jon is a recognized son of the previous king thus without the permissione of his brother, the current king, he is obliged to stay at court. Being a bastard of a Targaryen king, a recognized bastard at that, House Stark cannot claim any kind of authority over him. So, Aegon is well within his rights to host them in KL.

Also... who's to say the children (Rhaenys and Aegon) are aware or guilty of the isolation suffered by Lyanna and Jon?, we've seen there are much more dynamics that we'd like in court, there are tensions between the dornish and Lyanna, especially after Elia died, and we know LF has been at play for some time now. And what if the children were not aware of the plot to keep the comunications between Lyanna and the Starks to zero? , they have lived in such a toxic family environment that they could very well be assuming comunication was scarce because of the fact that Lyanna' choices costed House Stark many deaths.

Plus, Aerys refused member of noble families agency in war-time, Aegon pushes his limits, within his rights, during peace-time.

Next stop, Rhaenys commenting she doesn't hold Jon guilty of Lyanna and Rhaegar's actions, but guilty of thoughts of others, is she really? I read someone commenting on how Jon never showed interest in the Iron throne, and I wanna ask you, who's to say he didn't? Case in point:

Tyrion commenting how much people are convinced the Black Bastard is a good fit — as much if not more than Aegon — for the throne, because of how he proved his skills.

Rhaenys pointing out how everyone was waiting for Jon just to make the move, they aren't waiting to see if he's going to make the move, but when he is going to make his move for the Iron throne.

the Starks are aware that here was tension at court and that people were assuming that the inheritance deal could end up in war, which didn't happen, though everyone is as if waiting at the brink of a succesional war.

Tyrion's comment about how, after Jon apparently showed his rivarly with Aegon more publicly — and his stint in the black cells — started to pit brother against brother as if to test both and see which one was worthy, which in exchange made the court painfully aware that Jon could be a valid alternative for the Iron throne.

Jon himself comments about his feralty and his need to prove himself and have as much freedom and chances as his trueborn brother did + the summary-line from Jon's POV “He had always wanted it, but never like this + The hunger in his chest had become a hole so big that Seven Kingdoms and a whole world besides could not fill it”, that's ambition for the Iron throne. Maybe he was cautious, but his hunger for Aegon's throne and life (the Queen, the children, the Realm) is there from the beginning.

So, I ask you again? Jon (the same Jon who, in canon, wanted to be lord of Winterfell even if not at the price of his family's deaths) never even hinted, in any way, to how he might want the IT?, with all of the points of which above... I think it is a bit difficult to believe he never quite showed interest in the IT.

Plus, people are commenting on how Rhaenys acts as if she's better than the Starks (which is what she has been taught, again with the god-complex of the Targaryens) which I have nothing against as it's a correct take, the point is that, it seems like we all forget that:

House Stark has a double intent to accept Aegon's offer (an offer for peace), they want to basically steal from beneath his fingertips the North without bloodshed. Remember, Ned bent the knee to Rhaegar (even if, as Cat said, he did it out of love and not morality)

House Stark is using the full period of mourning to buy more time and get a better grasp of their strength before launching their plan. In any other condition they would've been much more lenient, remember Wynafryd is in Winterfell, they coul've sent Sansa to Aegon and just let the time pass until the married but letting them been seen as a couple and not as if one has the upper hand (them), which is instead what they are doing.

House Stark again has a double intent for Sansa's mandatory progress around the Realm, a political intent meant to make thei future secession a success. They aren't doing it in the name of the peace, like instead Aegon is doing. He could've subdued the North with the dragons, he choose the diplomacy route (grey character, remember?)

So, actually, Rhaenys isn't so off the charts with her fear that House Stark is showing the Realm who is the one who has the upper hand and threaten to make Sansa a more powerful symbol than Aegon.

On the top of that I've seen the fact that Rhaenys is upset by Sansa becoming queen as hypocrisy because it was Aegon who moved for the match, which, Rhaenys explains why it makes sense, but she was still the only one of Elia's children who remembers the time they spent at Aerys' court in wartime, and after, when people kept just waiting for her mother to be set aside and make a fool of, if you noticed, Rhaenys never calls Rhaegar ‘father’ she calls him by his name, because she han't forgiven him for having abandoned them for the taking for Lyanna; it's human she, as her mother's only supporter in House Targaryen, even though she can see the reasonability about it, would feel upset that the niece of the woman whose presence in court humiliated and pained her mother, albeit necessary, ends up having a big say in what she feels should her mother Legacy. Which is also why she and Aegon agreed their children would marry, to ensure their mother's blood and legacy remains on the Iron throne. It's human.

Also, do you really see similarties between what Rhaegar did and what Rhaenys did?

Rhaegar was a grown man, a prince with two children and loyal and dutiful wife (a wife who almost died to give him his heir) to whom he was still married when he eloped in secret with a girl (betrothed to his cousin atop that) who was half his age. On whom he sired a bastard without caring to ensure her family and the family of her betrothed was suitably compensated for the stain on her reputation.

Rhaegar abandoned Lyanna secluded in a Tower, in Dorne (the horrendous toad) without proper care in her status after having gotten her pregnant at 14/15, isolated from her family and went to fight a war. Several times it is said that it was Ned intervention that ensured Lyanna had a Maester and proper care during her pre-time birth.

Rhaegar, despite having to make peace with the dornish (remember the litle bitch abandoned both "wives" and children to fight his war), kept Lyanna as favorite (compensating the North by avoiding any kind of ingerence in the Northern politics trusting Ned's word and vow)furthering humiliating her, Elia, the Dornish and the Starks plus putting in peril his son and the woman he loved, who lost a child to poisoin or stress.

Rhaenys was yet unbetrothed and unmarried with no children to her name, and married a "divorced” man, childless. She ensured people in the high spheres were aware of her choices and didn't keep it a secret, hell she brought her husband publicly on Dragonstone and publicly fought Aegon about it.

Rhaenys never abandoned her husband and her husband did not abadon her. She is loyal to her husband and they respect each other. Rhaenys ensured her peace with her brother and king was stable and supports him wholeheartedly and never before or after that she has defied him.

I rather think Rhaenys is not Elia — Elia was kind almost to fault, and whilst Rhaenys is kind and generous she has her uncle's temper — she's not Rhaegar and she's not Lyanna. She's Rhaenys, she ain't perfect, yes she has bias born of all the traumatising shit she has gone through, she can be a bit paranoid but so far we've seen it is not out of reason and listens to counsel.

But tbh I feel that hypocrisy is not one of her faults.

It's not that she is not willing to see and forgive other people around her who fought for love, but differently from many, Rhaenys doesn't romaticize the circumstances. She could not forgive Rhaegar for what he did to her mother, and she cannot forgive that what Lyanna and Rhaegar did resulted in almost their deaths and her mother's humiliation.

She fought for love, but did so within the limits, aware of the consequences and working to avoid it escalated.

The circumstances between what Rhaegar did, what Lyanna did and what Rhaenys has done are so different that the similarties are not even skindeep, imo.

I hope I have clarified some points, again you are more than allowed to your own intrepretation of my take on Rhaenys, these are just my two cents as the author!

Oh, and about Aegon's politics. They aren't so off kilter, you know? He's keeping the Lannister in his corner with a second generation Lannister/Targaryen marriage; he is making peace with Stannis also binding their lines with betrothing Shireen to Maekar (notice that like this Shireen will retain the title of princess and her children will still be in line to the throne), he's taking a Stark wife, Daenerys was married to the dornish and he is considering a match between Joanna and Willas Tyrell; Renly bent the knee and is lord of Storm's End. With his marriage to Sansa he is making good with both the Riverlands, as she the daughter of a Tully and the Vale who loved her father.

As always, anon (and everyone else) thank you for the support and the love for the story! (sorry for the big tangent I took with this) and sending all my love ~G.

[jackass-democrats]

Hypocritical Democrats Using The Term BloodBath

[butterfirefly]

Here's an excerpt from my wip "Eternally" that's been stuck in purgatory for 8 months. I haven't yet firmly decided on how to get the story from the point I left off to this part, but I wanted to try posting a snippet on tumblr. If you guys have any input, I'd be very grateful to hear them. ^_^

cw: possibly morally grey(er) Yoojin

��Did you know,” Yoojin says conversationally as he drags the bound man deeper into the cave by the rope binding his ankles, his whole body thrashing like a fish on land. “From the time I had learned that vampires can turn others into their kind, I have tried to imagine what I would do should one of the people I hold dear ever become one. And all those years of asking the same question ceaselessly I had thought I was bereft of an answer. It had been that way for so long that I had begun to forget I even asked—until the day I had to turn my brother into one. He was going to die, you see, and I could not let that happen.”

Yoojin lets go of the rope to shove a few particularly large rocks aside, clearing a path for his brother’s meal, then picks it back up and continues to drag the flailing man further into the cave.

“That day, I realized that it was not that I had no answer for it, but that I did not want to acknowledge the one I had.”

“Mmph! Mmpphhh! Hwerrp-”

He pauses once again. He sets the lamp down on the ground and walks back till he is standing above the man, his face enshrouded in darkness.

“So long as they are my family,” Yoojin continues, bending down to fix his gag. “So long as they can continue to exist in any form, I do not care what I have to do to keep them by my side. I have slain animals, even small and adorable ones that reminded me of my little brother, though I wish I did not have to. They died so my family could survive, and now you will die so my brother can live, though I wish you did not have to. Well. No, I don’t. You did kill an innocent man after all.”

His hypocrisy does not escape him. Here he is, sending a man to his doom because he is a murderer, when Yoojin himself has most likely killed just as many as he had. Perhaps even more.

A vicious snarl rips across the air from up ahead—the sound of metal chains soon follow, and Yoojin can easily picture the length of thick metal links going taut as Yoohyun pulls against them, eager to greet his big brother.

Or maybe just to get to his meal.

“Ah... it seems my little brother is hungrier than I expected.”

Yoojin springs back up and begins to travel faster, and soon they reach the end of the cave. They come to a stop just as a wave of bloodlust hits them with the force of a battering ram, although Yoojin has had years to grow accustomed to it. The man ceases his struggling instinctively—he manages to turn his head towards where Yoojin is smiling and meets a pair of glowing red eyes.

“MMMPPHHHH!”

“I’m home!” Yoojin greets cheerfully over his captive’s panicked screams. “Forgive me, Yoohyun-ah. Hyung had to stay in town for a few days due to the storm. But look! I come bearing a gift.”

[woundgallery]

Hunter Deely Extant Writing

I was thrilled when @wintercorrybriea messaged me to request more writing by my dear friend Hunter Deely. This post contains links to PDFs of his extant writing, as well as a reflection on his work. 

Hunter was a Texan-born poet, musician and activist who died of a heroin overdose in New Orleans in 2012. He was barely twenty-two years old when he left this world but was already one of the most fully realized, remarkable poets and souls I have ever encountered. Hunter and I met as teenagers in San Antonio, Texas where we were part of a small, fiercely devoted group of friends who bonded through art and through a feeling, suffused with the zealotry of youth, that we alone saw through the hypocrisy and banality of South Texas suburbia. For the two years we all spent together in San Antonio, we felt we held the key to a mysterious, vibrant world-beneath-the-world. Our friendships and the insights they provoked felt consecrated, shot through with passion and truth. It was a holy ground. We reveled in this hidden world, and in each other, even as the same contrarian spirit that forged our devoted kinship drew us, careening, closer and closer to the edge. In 2009, Hunter, in the full-throes of heroin addiction, left for college at Tulane. In December of that year, our beloved friend Luther Maddox committed suicide three weeks before his eighteenth birthday. Luther’s death fundamentally changed the way all of us understand the universe and our positions within it. This first, intimate encounter with death shattered the invulnerability and ecstasy of our co-authored, insular world.  Within three weeks of Luther’s death, Hunter and two of Luther’s other closest friends left for rehab. 

The bulk of Hunter’s extant poems were written after he returned to college at Tulane following a year at rehab and a sober-living transitional setting in Irving, Texas. Luther’s death, as well as Hunter’s recognition of his addiction and how closely it brought him to his own end, drew him into a more intimate communion with the world, with the kingdom of nature, with generation and decomposition, the place where the disintegration of our individual egos and selves brings us into harmony with the always-there of the essential, material universe. A year after Luther’s death, Hunter wrote in a letter to our friend Kat, “I don't get sad about [his death] anymore, though. Because fundamentally, I have changed the way I view the world. I still consider myself an atheist. But I think Luther knew, and I now know, that there is more to life than our waking existence.” The spiritual sense that Hunter developed in the few years before his death was firmly rooted in the physical world; a celebration of the dissolution of the little ego under the resonant knowledge that we are all connected, through matter in a united, harmonious whole. “I believe that for something to "exist" is must be a part of nature,” Hunter wrote in a letter from Irving, “I do not believe that anything exists outside of nature, because anything outside of nature would be incomprehensible to the human mind, and therefore cannot "exist." That said, I think there is a lot to the universe we don't understand….there are forces at play we simply cannot see, to be sure, and other forces we see only fleetingly, in dreams. I think dreams are just as real as waking life. “I believe people are the masters of their own destinies. I also believe everything happens the way it was meant to happen. And I don't care if those two ideas contradict each other.”

Much of Hunter’s writing is an intellectual and spiritual working-through of these ideas. Assertions of individual will are interrupted by surrender to numinous whole. In a journal entry written in 2010, Hunter reflects on an atheistic spirituality—a belief that one’s spirit is not bound to the individual self and needn’t be seen as existing outside of the natural, the material. Hunter writes, “A favorite division among recovery groups is physical, emotional, spiritual. Ultimately, all of these things are physical, that is, there is no immaterial aspect to them…I do believe that the  spirit” far extends our understanding—and in the sense that time is fundamentally illusory, and that aspect of our psyche which is the spirit is an aspect which connects with the timeless aspects of existence, might even agree that it exists before we are born and is eternal. But it is only our spirit while we are living.” Hunter grew to understand death as a return to oneness with the always-there of the interconnected the universe, a mingling of basic elements which overtakes individuality and integrates us with the eternal-all. His poems map his growing belief in the mysterious connections between all matter, the awed conviction that “you are me/the ash is not the log, no,/but the heat diffuses like clouds/the filaments never leave the center”, that everything we have touched has existed from the beginning of time. The spirit radiating through Hunter’s work is the assertion that, as Wendell Berry writes, “I claim, and act, and am mingled in the fate of the world. Hunter found solace and meaning in the knowledge that everything we are, and touch, and experience was once joined  in a single dense point of energy, that “each tree in this forest/rises from a single system of roots that never/dies,” and that, linked in this way, we “only appear separate”, and “there is no such thing as being alone” (“The Idea of Order at No Place in Particular”). 

I miss Hunter profoundly, but I am eternally grateful that his work reminds me that we are never truly separated from each other. The links below contain the bulk of Hunter’s extant writing, sadly only a small portion of his entire body of work. I hope you enjoy visiting with him through his words. 

Links to Hunter’s Work

Hunter Deely Poems: Main Group 

Hunter Poems: Other Group

Hunter Prose

Peace and love to you, 

Linnea

[kermitcasanovaspamz]

the glaring sun you see in my eyes

taste of the bitter sun whose reflection shines so brightly on me still sometimes you mistake night for day confusing feelings, is any of it real?

it's impossible to hold a candle to the sun it'll waste away, i will burn but you cast an enormous shadow on the moon slowly it'll fade until there's nothing left to salvage but the moon is bound to change its position soon

you saw my pain, looked me in the eyes and i into yours, i allowed you in extremely careful, always have been and yet the moon i grow to despise

with pseudo-regret i move in my insecure night owl gear it hurts my pride to see the sunshine so here's a taste of the purest moonshine enriched with a touch of gloom i know it might not be your favorite one but i hope it warms you up just fine

whispered when the moon was awake traced you with my fingertips but then came daybreak i almost let go, i really did

the silence i embraced that night blended providence and my naivety it was you from the beginning, i saw you right away inexplicably incarnation of my own unraveling

now dressed in sublime hypocrisy accessorized with glaring hesitation i wish it could be you… i wish i wasn't overshadowed by the sun but instead i shall always be your moon the bringer of sadness and burden the incarnation of your past doom

-beatrix casanova

[77-fxes]

WF: Reflections of Shuri

In the ancestral plane, Shuri's conversation with Killmonger is easy to flatten out to 'Shuri confronts her grief and desire for vengeance and, momentarily, chooses vengeance.' But as with any Coogler film, I believe that the dialogue between characters is communicating a bit more than that. Furthermore, I think there's some insight into the reading that the ancestral plane is both a physical plane where you meet the spirits of real people and a conversation with one's own subconscious or conscious (I first heard it on NewRockstars)

I think the scene can be separated into three conversations. The first part of the conversation centers on why Shuri took the herb in the first place. At first, she tries to say that she took it to see her family, but Killmonger calls that out and we as the audience already knows that he's right due to her earlier conversation with Ramonda about T'Challa's spirit. So eventually, she drops that and admits that she wants power and doesn't correct her cousin when he suggests it's for revenge. This essentially is the first time that Shuri outright admits her rage, pain, and desire for revenge unreservedly.

The next phase starts with her denying that she's like him, calling him an unworthy king to which he retorts that he and T'Challa did what was needed to open Wakanda up in such a way that they would have protected Riri in the first place. No argument there, but she goes on to blame his burning of the heart-shaped herb for not only T'Challa's death, but in many ways, the predicament that Wakanda finds itself in, which he denies. I feel like as an internal conversation, this is Shuri reconciling the benefits of having opened up Wakanda to the outside world with the dangers, suggesting that she's been more ambivalent about this issue than she's let on.

In the final piece, the conversation turns to the kinds of rulers that her family members were. Ramonda's bravery, T'Chaka's hypocrisy, T'Challa's nobility, and N'Jadika's ruthlesness. This is, to me, the crux of the matter. Having come to grips with her own desire for revenge and the inevitable precariousness of Wakanda's situation in the world in order to do what's right, Shuri is now confronted with the uncomfortable truth of how she feels about her departed family members. All three of these people (maybe even her cousin in a way) are people that she's mourned in what to her is about a two year period (minus the blip). In the glow of mourning, it's comforting to beatify our departed loved ones; it's a way of insulating us from our own feelings of anger, loss, even betrayal of the death of a loved one. But now, each in turn, Shuri is left to confront the fact that even though she loved her mother, father, and brother, she also knew their various strengths and flaws. This can be a painful revelation to accept, the hardest of all probably that deep down, she really does feel like T'Challa was too noble, or at least too short-sighted with his nobility. Moreover, the guilt of finding common ground with Killmonger, not just about the revenge aspect (for a short time), but more pointedly, in the need for ruthless, pragmatic decision-making is jarring. Though for someone so science-minded, someone always looking for the better solution, someone who is not bound by sentimental attachment to tradition, it does make quite a bit of sense. Killmonger was able to do what he did because he had no attachment to the traditions of Wakanda, hated them even. To him, Wakanda was a means to an end, a way to gain power for both personal and political reasons.

To me, this last part is what informs Shuri's approach to taking up the mantle and her eventual truce with Namor. These are matters of practicality. She knows M'Baku is right about the consequences of killing him, both for Wakanda and Talocan, who she knows to just be people living their lives. In that moment, Shuri does show us who she is, a compassionate but ruthlessly pragmatic person. If a truce is what keeps oblivion at bay today, then it's a truce. I don't believe that someone as unsentimental as Shuri believes that this means that Namor is a changed man, nor will it stop her from designing countermeasures to his army after she gets back, or turning her attention to the world and it's desires for vibranium. In these matters, I expect Shuri to take a realistic look at the world, Wakanda's situation, and strike ruthlessly when the time comes for action.

[poppiesforthirteen]

🌟

ooh this is hard because i don't think there's a scene i haven't told you about in great detail. also "director's cut" takes a different meaning when we're talking about screenplays sjdkfk

i'm gonna be talking about the rooftop scene from every version of the story ends with you

this one is in two parts: the deca together and thoschei alone - though they're more authentic around their friends, theta and koschei have nothing to prove to them, they're still performative. koschei makes a show out of his attraction to theta when their friends (jokingly) reject them being affectionate:

Theta kisses [Koschei's] crown. Glances from the other Deca, ranging from curious to disgusted.

[...]

RALLON: Get a room.

KOSCHEI: Sod off.

He grabs Theta and kisses him -- [...] Koschei climbs into Theta's lap, fully snogging him now.

he takes control of the situation back because it's a joke, and he wants them to be disgusted, he wants to be a spectacle. rallon and millennia, probably as grossly smitten as gallifreyan standards allow, don't even get near their level, even when openly talking about having sex in a dorm room:

RALLON: We'll have a good night, yeah.

MAGNUS (O.S.): Not in our room.

magnus also teases koschei for being so openly affectionate, it cements his vulgarity by gallifreyan standards (and honestly our own) even more, but still within that stage persona:

MAGNUS (O.S.): Go swing with Koschei for all I care [...]

the group dynamic among all of them is fascinating, really - in another way to scream your name i had the chance to play with it a lot more during that rooftop scene and especially during eighth man bound

it doesn't make sense to me that this group of teenagers, as they're often portrayed, would genuinely dislike vansell but keep him around anyway. there's something about vansell past the duties given to him that draws him to the deca, and vice versa. he can be just as ruthless, just as relentless, but he has a strong sense of duty that happens to fall within the rules instead - here, that makes him kind of annoying:

VANSELL: Look at you all, lit up like a funeral pyre. You know we're driving tomorrow, well, I'm not getting in a TARDIS with any of you if you're like this --

THETA: Get lost, Nosebung.

but even though theta rejects him in the moment, he later on admits that he's got a point (or at least uses him in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness between him and koschei):

THETA: Do you think Vansell's right? Maybe we should get back.

(jelpax, who wasn't in this fic at all but very present in the first academy script, occupies a similar role to vansell while being more lenient in everything. he's more focused on harmony as well as sticking to some rules, but the strong personalities in the deca overpower him - he sticks around to make sure no one gets hurt too badly. some rules can be broken, more than they should maybe, but as long as he's there to keep an eye on it everything will be fine)

the stage persona koschei shows everyone falls away completely around theta. theta doesn't notice it - he's used to koschei performing, he can't always tell when he's being genuine. it's koschei's self preservation backfiring on him:

Koschei leans in to kiss Theta again, soft, tentative. Theta ducks out of the way.

THETA: They've left, you don't have to pretend anymore.

it's the first rejection of many - they've always been affectionate, sharing a bed as children, constantly touching, sucking face less than a minute ago, but it's the first time koschei crosses the line between platonic and romantic affection. theta's rejection wounds him; he immediately creates distance, but can't resist trying again:

KOSCHEI: What do you think of Rallon and Millennia?

THETA (grimaces): Obnoxious.

theta signals disinterest in romance as a whole - he doesn't see the similarities between them and the deca's "real" couple, thoschei usually well overshooting their displays of affection. when koschei points out their hypocrisy, theta affirms his point, solidifying his rejection:

KOSCHEI: They’ve acted like they’re married from the day they met.

THETA: Not that different from the way we act.

KOSCHEI: And?

THETA: We’re not a couple.

what koschei doesn't know is that the cigarettes from just before - a gift to create closeness after the first rejection - created tension because of their disparate social statuses. oakdown is wealthy and well regarded, koschei talks about his family often, the matriarch of oakdown is influential and koschei will have the same status one day (he already does; he's treated with more respect by teachers, and while he has the academic achievement to warrant it, it's harder for theta to prove himself even without that barrier). lungbarrow isn't affluent enough to buy clothes without holes in them; theta wears what he has until it's unusable. sending a child to the academy - the centuries of education - is expected, but barely possible. koschei doesn't rub it in, but he doesn't make a secret of it, and proves to theta that he's superior. all this, unsurprisingly, doesn't help seduce someone already battling inferiority complexes so extreme that later in life they run off to another planet to be the smartest and specialest boy forever

while theta feels their tension, he doesn't know what's going on in koschei's mind. he feels the clash of koschei's persona and true self, the way he pulls back to save face when he's rejected - once when theta asks him to stop acting, and again when theta reaffirms that they're friends

they're both dancing on a line between friendship and romance, keeping each other locked in balance, and koschei leaning to one side makes the whole precarious dynamic wobble. they don't really recover from it: koschei teases harmlessly and theta is offended, theta reaches out and koschei gets shy. something's in the air and they're both trying to feel around something invisible, getting a sense of its shape without cutting themselves on the sharp edges. koschei and theta understand each other so well that they have no clue how to deal with this, their views of each other have never clashed this heavily

i can't say how they'll turn out - we know how it ends, right? we know what happens. but maybe they'll be okay for now <3

[azurillturtle]

telos (laughter & light)

more thoughts on ancients culture, in the form of azem, euny, and a little bit of pashtarot. growing up and being left behind.

It is raining outside of Amaurot.

It is not raining inside Amaurot.

Inside the city bounds, the humidity is nothing more than a warm, pleasant mist. It’s warm in general, actually, a tad too hot to be considered ideal but not the blistering heat one might expect in the height of midsummer. In fact it’s unusually nice—

Euny mentally corrects herself. For one who has lived one’s whole life within Amaurot, this is exactly the weather one might expect in the height of midsummer.

Weather in Amaurot does not always follow the expected rules of the rest of the world. The people of the city claim that they experience seasons. Spring is the time for Halmarut to show off their newest creations. Summer is noticeably warmer and wetter. Autumn is marked by bright bursts of foliage on the trees, and a light dusting of snow might be found on the ground in winter.

That’s really all, though. If one were to travel a little ways out from the city, a mere ten malms or so, one would find the weather gradually changing to something more normal for Amaurot’s latitude and the surrounding topography. It is not that Amaurot was built in a temperate clime: It is simply that her residents do not see any reason to suffer any discomfort that they can block out entirely. And so the weather is mild, the seasons are perfectly tailored to appeal to the poets and the romantics, and they experience no storms save those that originate within the Capitol.

Euny has learned that Amaurotines are full of these sorts of little hypocrisies. They call themselves custodians of the star. They say that protecting and overseeing Etheirys is their lives’ work. She does not see how manipulating the local weather is supposed to serve the star, but she has learned it’s better not to ask.

To those born and raised in the city, this is a perfectly normal day in a perfectly normal summer and there is no reason to think otherwise. And what does it say about Euny herself, she wonders, that she no longer thinks of herself as being part of the city where she was born and raised?

It is raining outside of Amaurot. It is not raining inside Amaurot. The best middle ground she has found is a vantage point on the cliffs south of the city. From here she can admire the sprawling metropolis in its entirety, the towering buildings and glowing lights and spiraling sculptures of her home. From here she is far enough removed that the sky is gray and the rain is a light, persistent drizzle soaking through her robes. In the world outside the city it is summer, and so it is warm enough that she does not mind, though she will have to remember to dry off before she returns. She has an image to maintain that she cannot afford to have sullied by rumors. She cannot stand the thought of whispers behind her back, gazes of disapproval or pity leveled at her when they think she is not looking.

Euny heaves a deep sigh. Her hands ball into the carpet of wildflowers at her sides. She resists the urge to raise them and pull up the greenery by the roots.

Now especially she cannot appear to be anything but calm and collected. She is no longer a child, prone to ill-timed excitement and unsightly outbursts. She is a seasoned traveler of the star, mature enough to take anything in stride.

Even this.

Especially this.

She does not know how long she has been sitting here, lost in thoughts of her city and her place in it, when someone behind her sets their hands on her shoulders. She jumps and nearly tips over in her surprise. The scream she lets out is not very mature at all.

The person behind her was expecting this. Already they are laughing, their hands tightening on her shoulders to steady her before she falls.

“Azem!” she splutters, twisting around to shoot a half-hearted glare at her long-time acquaintance.

Azem’s grin is completely unrepentant. Like her, they have lowered their cowl and mask out here away from the city. Their eyes, striking violet and gold, are bright and wicked.

“Hello, Euny,” they say. “It’s been a while. Not since Miletus, if I remember right?”

“I think so,” Euny answers, though she does not spare more than the briefest of thoughts for the question. “What are you doing here?”

Azem makes a small, thoughtful noise. In one fluid motion they fall to a seat beside her, sitting crosslegged on the grass and draping their arms across their knees. She envies their careless grace; she always has.

“They call me counselor to the people,” Azem says breezily. “I suppose that means I should do a spot of counseling every now and again. You look as if you might benefit from it.”

Euny does not argue. She knows the turn of Azem’s moods well enough to know they will continue pestering her until she speaks. And so, even though she does not particularly wish to converse with anyone and especially not with one of her father’s contemporaries, she says, “I meant, what are you doing here?”

“Oh. You mean, here?” Azem’s wave encompasses the clifftop on which they sit and the city in the distance below them. “Well, naturally, I was looking for you. A little bird told me I might find you here.”

Euny cocks her head and furrows her brow. “…Literally or figuratively?”

Azem smiles and does not answer. Instead they say, “Nice place you’ve got here. Stunning view of the city. Come here often?”

“…Sometimes. I used to more often when I was attending school.” She twists her wrists fractionally, putting more stress on the poor grass clutched in her fists. More softly she admits, “Whenever I was upset and wanted to get away for a bit.”

“Hmm. Would you prefer to be alone then or should I stay?”

Euny shakes her head. “You can stay.”

“Oh, good,” Azem says, their tone still so lighthearted it’s hard to decipher their thoughts. “I can’t do much good as a counselor if you shoo me away.”

Euny rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

They sit together quietly for a time, the wind toying with their hair and the rain sluicing down their faces. Azem, Euny notices, doesn’t seem to mind the weather much either. Indeed, they tilt their head back as if enjoying the caress of the rain.

Euny does not ask why Azem thinks she might need counseling. They too will have heard the news. Whoever it was who directed Azem her way, it is both gratifying and embarrassing that they spared a thought for her in this moment.

Azem is the one who breaks the silence. That is not unexpected; they always have been more impatient than Euny.

“So,” they say—and she stiffens at that single word. “Eight moons.”

“Yes.”

They tilt their head, not turning to face her but regarding her out of the corner of their eye. “You must have known it was coming? He wouldn’t have sprung something like this on you.”

“…Yes.”

Azem waits for her to continue. When she does not, they sigh, leaning back and resting their weight on their elbows. They murmur, “It is cause for rejoicing when one declares their work complete and announces their intention to return to the star. And yet you aren’t happy.”

“Are you?” she retorts. “Everyone knows you and Papa don’t get along.”

“Is that what they say?” Azem wonders aloud. Before Euny can answer that rather puzzling question, they are already saying, “We have an agreement, he and I, though it may not seem that way from the outside.”

They slide their elbows along the wet grass, falling onto their back and bringing one hand up to shield their eyes from the rain.

“You, though. Your love for Pashtarot is in no doubt.”

The invitation leaves little room for misinterpretation. Euny pushes one heel across the ground, tearing grass and leaving furrows in the mud.

She wants to say she doesn’t want to talk about it. But if she really didn’t want to talk about it, she would have told Azem to leave her, right?

“He first mentioned it some years ago,” she says at last. “As you say, he wanted to discuss it with family first. He sat us down one morning and told us he was thinking of returning to the star. He said it wouldn’t be anytime soon, that he still needed to set his affairs in order. I thought there would be time enough to make my peace with the idea, but…”

“But time flies, and before you knew it, it was looming close on the horizon,” Azem says gently. “And now the moment is nearly here and you don’t know what to do.”

Euny nods silently.

Azem hesitates, then reaches over to pat her elbow. It is a tentative, awkward gesture. Still, they are trying.

“It’s strange,” she says, in answer to Azem’s earlier question. “I should be happy for him. And I am. But I feel as if I’m forcing myself to be happy for him. If I stopped to think about what I wanted, for myself, I wouldn’t be happy at all, and that’s…”

She stops, struggling for words; ducks her head and pushes a lock of bedraggled hair out of her face. “…I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of it really.”

Azem only says, quietly and thoughtfully, “Hmm.”

That’s really not useful at all, and Euny can’t help but be disappointed. She’s not sure what she was expecting really. Certainly it wasn’t the painfully judgmental silence now stretching between them.

Azem runs their hands across the ground, rustling blades of grass in their wake, and at last says, “This is the first time anyone close to you has returned to the star?”

Euny nods. Azem laughs, low in their throat, but they stop quickly once they realize she might take offense. “Then I’ll tell you something few bother to explain. Only the very old and the very idealistic truly believe that returning to the star is an occasion for uncomplicated joy. The rest of us, who have decades if not centuries remaining in which to serve, often find ourselves conflicted at their return. We should be glad that those we have loved have found themselves thus satisfied and declare their duties at an end. But it is a bittersweet farewell for those left behind, for we find ourselves faced with an eternal parting from those we cherish.”

Azem lifts one hand, framing their fingers against the sky. Then they glance at her, frowning slightly as if puzzled.

“You are not the first to wonder why we walk so willingly to our ends. A dear friend of mine struggled with the question for a very long time. Why we exist on this star, why we live, why we would choose to die. But in the end everyone’s thoughts on returning to the star are different. Just as we choose what brings us fulfillment in life, only we can decide why and when we should seek our ends.”

“What about you?” Euny says. “You’re old. Why do you think people want to return?”

Azem laughs, They roll onto their side to face her fully, mismatched eyes glittering with mirth. “Euny! Is that really what you think of me? I’m hurt!”

Euny draws her brows together, attempting to glower at them, but as always, their laughter is contagious. In the end she smiles, just slightly. “You didn’t answer my question. What would make you return to the star?”

Why is her father choosing to leave her behind?

Azem is silent for a time, merely watching her. They don’t move save to blink, long lashes brushing rain from their eyes. She finds that she cannot holds their piercing gaze and looks away, back towards the city, and Azem sighs.

“To start with, it’s not fully my decision. I’m not going anywhere without Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus. That we decided long ago.”

Euny stifles her giggle. Their words are matter-of-fact, their promise solemn and unbreakable. Azem will return with Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus or not at all. The thought of their devotion tugs sweet and painful at her heartstrings.

“You’re adorable,” she says.

“What?” But Azem’s confusion lasts only a moment. When she does not elaborate, they flop on their back on the wet grass and continue, “…I don’t know when they will be ready. They’ll tell me when it’s time. But as for when I think we should return to the star…

“Well. I’m a traveler. The Traveler, I suppose. To me, life is all one long adventure. A series of sweet meetings and bitter partings. We chase our dreams, and celebrate our successes, and bow beneath the crushing weight of failure. Each and every moment, we live to the fullest. And at the end of the day, exhausted from our efforts, we retire for a well-deserved rest.”

They lace their fingers together and extend their arms above them. “That is how I have come to view it. Much as I love adventure, even I must admit that there comes a time when the excitement wears thin and we long for sleep.”

Azem shrugs, their hands rising another few ilms in the air with the movement. “We live to serve the star. We return to the star once we have made our contributions. In practice, that means a return when we are at our happiest: when we have achieved all that we intended, when we can look back on our lives with satisfaction and say, yes, I can do no better. What reason then do we have to linger? Better to rest and be reborn anew, ready to serve once more.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Euny mumbles.

“Most things are when you get right down to it. Complicated though they might seem at first glance, you’ll find there’s really not much to them once you strip them down to the essentials.”

Azem glances to the side, their eyes sharp. Only when a shiver runs down her spine does Euny realize that she’s relaxed her guard.

“What I mean to say, Euny, is that by voicing his intent to return to the star, Pashtarot has pronounced that he is satisfied with the life he has lived. As a respected member of the Convocation of Fourteen, yes, and as one who has watched over our people and acted as an unwelcome adversary to their irreproachable Azem, but in his personal life as well.”

Azem bestows a beatific smile upon her. “He has the utmost faith in you. You have grown into a magnificent adult. He believes he has done his duty by you; that even in his absence, you will continue to be well, with your strength and your courage to light your way. Has he not said as much?”

Euny stares as if they’ve grown a second head. After a long moment, Azem sighs. “…Right. Pashtarot. Of course not.”

With a great heave, they push themself back up to a seat. They are so close their shoulder brushes against hers, but at least their unsettling gaze is no longer focused on her.

“It’s a very personal matter, choosing to return to the star,” they say quietly. “In the end it falls to the individual, and it’s best if they don’t allow their decision to be unduly influenced by others. To live entirely for other people is to deny one’s own desires. To deny one’s desires is to plant the seeds of dissatisfaction and misery. It’s natural to grieve those we will not see again, but it is for their own sake that we let them go.”

“I know that,” she mumbles.

She does know that. She knows that she’s being selfish, wishing that her father would stay just a little longer. And that makes her feel worse in the end, because she shouldn’t be selfish, she should be able to see him off with a smile.

“We meet many people on our travels,” Azem says. “Some we encounter only once. Some we see again and again. And some we part with, knowing there will never be a next time. I will not tell you it gets easier—only that it is the same for all of us at some point in our lives.

“You will get through it all right. He would not leave you if he did not believe you could thrive without him.” Azem smiles faintly and tilts their head. “It’s a hard thing, being a parent. Letting one’s child fly free on her own wings.”

Euny closes her eyes and blows a breath. Azem’s shoulder bumps hers again, companionably, and she finds she does not mind.

“Would you like a hug?” they ask softly.

Euny nods, not daring to speak.

Azem’s arm wraps about her shoulders, pulling her close. Euny keeps her eyes screwed firmly shut. It is raining outside of Amaurot, and it is not raining inside Amaurot, and, she thinks, she can be forgiven for a moment of weakness. Just this once.

Azem does not say a word, but the arm around her is tight, and they do not let her go.

When even the last of her whimpers dies down to nothing, when pride and embarrassment reassert themselves, she straightens up and in so doing pulls away. Azem lets her go, dropping their hand to rest back on the grass.

“Thank you,” she says, and Azem nods.

“I’ll miss him too, I think,” they say. “Not in quite the same way as you, but I will miss him.”

She has no reason to doubt the truth of those words. Whatever Azem’s feelings on her father, a long, complex association leaves its own mark. It will not be the same once the new Pashtarot takes his place.

Euny scrubs one hand across her eyes. She cannot return to the city for a little while yet, not while her eyes are red enough to evoke comment. Instead she turns to Azem and searches for something to say. “What about you?”

Azem’s brow is furrowed, their eyes wide with confusion. Azem is also by now soaked from head to toe, gray hair plastered against their skin and robes hanging heavy with water. The overall effect is rather comical. “What about me?”

“You seem the type of person who can always find something new and interesting wherever you go. When would you consider yourself satisfied? Your adventures at an end?”

“Besides when Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus are ready, you mean?” Azem stretches their legs out, pointing their toes down toward the city. “Well. I don’t think I’ll ever see everything the star has to offer. You’re right about that at least. When I have shared the joy and the beauty of the star with all who will listen; when the friendship between Amaurot and our far outflung peoples has grown unshakable. When the world has become a kinder and gentler place. Then, I think, I can step down from my seat content.”

They chuckle low in their throat, their chin dipping and their eyelids falling half-closed with amusement. “We won’t return immediately, I think. I fully intend to drag them across the star and take them to all of my favorite places. We could all do with some time to enjoy ourselves, and there is so much I’d like to show them.

“But that is still a long way off, and there is much preparation that has yet to be done.” Azem sighs theatrically. “Hythlodaeus still has boxes and boxes of submissions he’s always said he’ll get to someday, and Emet-Selch still keeps getting distracted by every new and fancy application of aether that crosses his path. I daresay they’ve put no thought into who will look after their business once they’ve gone, and that’s the most important consideration of all if one wishes for one’s legacy to be properly preserved.”

“I suppose,” Euny murmurs. She is thinking about her father’s chosen successor, a woman she has known since she was very young, as serious and dedicated as one could ever ask. There is no one better qualified to carry on her father’s will and his wishes than Metis.

“When that time comes, Euny…”

Azem pauses. There is a quality to their hesitance that makes Euny glance at them. Their eyes are narrowed to the barest slits; they are gazing down at the city as if something has displeased them.

“Azem?”

They shake their head sharply as if emerging from a reverie. “…Never mind. You’re still young. I won’t burden you with that yet.”

She stares at them, lips unconsciously pressed together in a pout. “Are you saying I’m too young to understand?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m saying you should enjoy your carefree youth for a few more decades before I upend your life with my dastardly plans.”

That does not make her feel any better. Euny’s scowl makes plain her thoughts on the matter. Azem laughs and ruffles her hair affectionately, which only solidifies her belief that they still consider her a child. “Feeling better?”

She stops, her lips parting as she considers the question. Oddly enough, she is. “…Yes.”

“I thought so. It helps to know you’re not alone.” Azem nudges her arm. “If you still find yourself struggling, send me a message. I’m always willing to talk. And I suggest sitting down with your father for a proper discussion. He isn’t really one to discuss his feelings, but he’ll do it if you ask it of him.”

Of course he will. That is the one thing in her life that Euny has never doubted. Her father would do anything for her.

Azem waits for a moment, giving her time to speak if she so desires. When she does not, they prompt gently, “Is there anything else on your mind?”

Euny gives the question serious thought before shaking her head. Azem nods and stands, stretching their arms above their head. “Then I think it’s past time we return to the city. We’ve been gone long enough there will be people wondering at our absence.”

They extend a hand to her, wet and clammy with rain. Euny takes it and they pull her to her feet.

She has traveled with Azem before, with other companions or just the two of them alone. Under normal circumstances, Azem will just not shut up: They delight in pointing out every wonder that crosses their path and catches their eye. Today, however, they are reserved in deference to her mood, breaking the silence only to tell her to watch her step.

Soon enough the spires of Amaurot are looming tall before them and they are passing through the city gates. Euny expects Azem to make their excuses and peel away to find their friends; instead they accompany her, following her lead down the streets. There is nowhere else she needs to be, and so she turns her steps toward home.

They are a mere few minutes and a few blocks from the spacious family suite where she grew up when they catch sight of a familiar mask. The color would identify him even had Euny not already recognized him by his height and his walk, the way he carries himself and the way he turns to look at them.

She stops and rocks back on her heels, struck by the sudden shock of seeing him. He pauses; then he’s moving toward them at his usual ground-eating stride.

“Eunomia,” he says. Then his attention slips to her companion and he inclines his head stiffly. “Azem.”

“Delivery for you, Pashtarot,” Azem says cheerfully. “I found her on the cliffs above the city. Not sure if the carrier got the address wrong.”

Pashtarot pays no attention to their nattering. He is studying Euny, searching for any trace of weakness or distress. She can feel the weight of his gaze beneath his mask.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she realizes that her first instinct when upset was to flee the city. What does that say about her, a born child of Amaurot? What does that say about who she is now?

What does her father see when he looks at her? Who does he think she will become once he has moved on and can no longer keep her under his watchful eye?

Pashtarot does not tell her. He does not speak of it at all. When he speaks at last, it is to say, “You’re soaked through.”

Her first instinct was to leave the city.

Her first thought was to turn to the outside world.

Once she remembers that, she realizes that he must know exactly the type of person she is. Even then he is prepared to return to the star. He trusts that wherever she goes from here, she will continue to be someone he loves and takes pride in.

Euny straightens up. She tilts her head back to look him in the eye. “It’s raining outside Amaurot.”

She speaks with a bright and beaming smile.

[renaissanceclassics]

The Pilgrim’s Progress: Part 4

Listen to: THE THIRD STAGE, at Renaissance Classics Podcast.

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Isaiah 26:1. Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, “He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death.” Then he stood still a while, to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. Zech. 12:10. Now as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him with, “Peace be to thee.” So the first said to him, “Thy sins be forgiven thee,” Mark 2:5; the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment, Zech. 3:4; the third also set a mark on his forehead, Eph. 1:13, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate: so they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing,

“Thus far did I come laden with my sin, Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, Till I came hither. What a place is this! Must here be the beginning of my bliss? Must here the burden fall from off my back? Must here the strings that bound it to me crack? Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be The Man that there was put to shame for me!”

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption. Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, you are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, Prov. 23:34, for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and come away; be willing also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth about like a roaring lion, 1 Pet. 5:8, comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, I see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more sleep; and Presumption said, Every tub must stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. Yet he was troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of them, and proffering to help them off with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse. CHRISTIAN: Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do you go? FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY: We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going, for praise, to Mount Zion. CHRISTIAN: Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way? Know ye not that it is written, that “he that cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber?” John 10:1. FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY: They said, that to go to the gate for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as they had done. CHRISTIAN: But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will? FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY: They told him, that as for that, he needed not to trouble his head thereabout: for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it for more than a thousand years. CHRISTIAN: But, said Christian, will you stand a trial at law? FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY: They told him, that custom, it being of so long standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial judge: and besides, said they, if we get into the way, what matter is it which way we get in? If we are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate; and we also are in the way, that came tumbling over the wall: wherein now is thy condition better than ours? CHRISTIAN: I walk by the rule of my Master: you walk by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way: therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way. You come in by yourselves without his direction, and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on, every man in his way, without much conference one with another, save that these two men told Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but that they should as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors, to hide the shame of thy nakedness. CHRISTIAN: By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the door. Gal. 2:16. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have his coat on my back; a coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord’s most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it: all which things I doubt you want, and want them because you came not in at the gate. To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went all on, save that Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably: also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed. I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which there was a spring. There were also in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight from the gate: one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, Isa. 49:10, and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying,

“The hill, though high, I covet to ascend; The difficulty will not me offend; For I perceive the way to life lies here: Come, pluck up heart, let’s neither faint nor fear. Better, though difficult, the right way to go, Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more. I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant Arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers. Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him: then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, “Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.” Prov. 6:6. And with that, Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill. Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust: to whom Christian said, Sirs, what’s the matter? you run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult place: but, said he, the farther we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again. Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, You make me afraid; but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the celestial city, I am sure to be in safety there: I must venture. To go back is nothing but death: to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it: I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein and be comforted; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the celestial city. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and falling down upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian’s heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came again in sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind. Rev. 2:4; 1 Thess. 5:6-8. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in the daytime! that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge the flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! How many steps have I taken in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod but once: yea, now also I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. O that I had not slept! Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for a while he sat down and wept; but at last, (as Providence would have it,) looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which he with trembling and haste catched up, and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again? For this roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. But O how nimbly did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with himself: Oh thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey! I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his way. But while he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood by the highway-side. So I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the Porter’s lodge, and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small? Mark 4:40. Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee. Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but taking good heed to the directions of the Porter; he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going. CHRISTIAN: I am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion: but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. THE PORTER: What is your name? CHRISTIAN: My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless: I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. Gen. 9:27. THE PORTER: But how does it happen that you come so late? The sun is set. CHRISTIAN: I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on the hill-side! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill; and then feeling for it, and not finding it, I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come. THE PORTER: Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called. The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from the city of Destruction to Mount Zion; but being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night: so I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house. Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way, and he told her. And at last she asked his name. So he said, It is Christian; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and after a little pause she said, I will call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him: and thus they began. PIETY: Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you as to receive you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage. CHRISTIAN: With a very good will; and I am glad that you are so well disposed. PIETY: What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim’s life? CHRISTIAN: I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where I was. PIETY: But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way? CHRISTIAN: It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way that hath led me directly to this house. PIETY: But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter? CHRISTIAN: Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by me as long as I live, especially three things: to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God’s mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come. PIETY: Why, did you hear him tell his dream? CHRISTIAN: Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought; it made my heart ache as he was telling of it, but yet I am glad I heard it. PIETY: Was this all you saw at the house of the Interpreter? CHRISTIAN: No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out; and how he was bid to come in, and win eternal glory. Methought those things did ravish my heart. I would have stayed at that good man’s house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to go. PIETY: And what saw you else in the way? CHRISTIAN: Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before: yea, and while I stood looking up, (for then I could not forbear looking,) three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll, (and with that he plucked it out of his bosom.) PIETY: But you saw more than this, did you not? CHRISTIAN: The things that I have told you were the best: yet some other I saw, as, namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way, as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could awake them? I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions’ mouths; and, truly, if it had not been for the good man, the porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back again; but I thank God I am here, and thank you for receiving me. Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them. PRUDENCE: Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came? CHRISTIAN: Yea, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Heb. 11:15,16. PRUDENCE: Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant withal? CHRISTIAN: Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all those things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things more: but when I would be a doing that which is best, that which is worst is with me. Rom. 7:15, 21. PRUDENCE: Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity? CHRISTIAN: Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me. PRUDENCE: Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished? CHRISTIAN: Yes: when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; and when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. PRUDENCE: And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion? CHRISTIAN: Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me: there they say there is no death, Isa. 25:8; Rev. 21:4; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy. Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family; Are you a married man? CHRISTIAN: I have a wife and four small children. CHARITY: And why did you not bring them along with you? CHRISTIAN: Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done it! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. CHARITY: But you should have talked to them, and have endeavored to show them the danger of staying behind. CHRISTIAN: So I did; and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not. Gen. 19:14. CHARITY: And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them? CHRISTIAN: Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and poor children were very dear to me. CHARITY: But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. CHRISTIAN: Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. CHARITY: But what could they say for themselves, why they came not? CHRISTIAN: Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone. CHARITY: But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you? CHRISTIAN: Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor. CHARITY: Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his own works were evil, and his brother’s righteous, 1 John, 3:12; and if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good; thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood. Ezek. 3:19. Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished with fat things, and with wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of death, Heb. 2:14,15; but not without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it with the loss of much blood. But that which put the glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to his country. And besides, there were some of them of the household that said they had been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they have attested that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory that he might do this for the poor; and that they heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill. 1 Sam. 2:8; Psa. 113:7. Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising. The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang,

“Where am I now? Is this the love and care Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are, Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, And dwell already the next door to heaven!”

So in the morning they all got up; and, after some more discourse, they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in which, as I remember my dream, they showed him the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of days, and came by eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had placed them in such habitations that could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved. Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done; as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens. Heb. 11:33,34. Then they read again another part of the records of the house, where it was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into his favor any, even any, though they in time past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a view; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. The next day they took him, and had him into the armory, where they showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses’ rod; the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox-goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jawbone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him moreover the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath; and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again. Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains; which, they said, would yet farther add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; so he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Isa. 33:16,17. Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel’s land; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will make appear. Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the armory. So they did; and when he came there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then the Porter answered, Yes. CHRISTIAN: Pray, did you know him? said he. THE PORTER: I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. CHRISTIAN: O, said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman, my near neighbor; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before? THE PORTER: He is got by this time below the hill. CHRISTIAN: Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy plain blessings much increase for the kindness that thou hast showed me.

[georgianadarcies]

When I call Jess a pathetic sap for keeping Rory's bracelet in his left breast pocket, my hypocrisy knows no bounds, honestly, because when I was in highschool, my parents hired the boy I had a crush on to mow our lawn, and he left a note for my parents on the kitchen counter. I saw it and stole it and kept it for SEVERAL YEARS, and I'd obsess over his handwriting and the way he wrote his name, and it wasn't even something he'd written to ME. Yeah. 😂

being a sentimental sap trumps not being a sentimental sap any day and I stand by that

[fantasticalleigh]

You were a Mormon? Geez, how did you escape? I heard it's like a cult.

I was brought up a Catholic, but that was easy to escape. I just walked away, refused all entreaties from my mom and grandma to go back, and they eventually stopped asking. I don't even go at Christmas and Easter anymore, the sheer hypocrisy is way too much for me to tolerate even twice a year to make my mom happy.

Sadly, I was! technically still am but more on that later. My parents were members since before I was born so I was going as a wee child up until I was baptized and officially joined at 8 years old. I didn’t leave until I was in my early twenties.

Adding a cut here because this is a long response so sorry in advance! But this ask really opened the floodgates bc I honestly don’t get to talk about this a lot, if ever. 

It’s definitely a cult. It’s all emotional tactics to reel you in and keep you there. Everyone is friendly and there’s always lots of fun family events going on and within time you’re given leadership roles in the church to become more involved.  One of the most successful tactics they use is the “sealing” ceremony, where a family is bound/sealed for all eternity within the temple. New/existing members are encouraged to get their extended family to join so they can all get sealed together, because it’s honestly a lovely thought that death won’t be able to part you. But it’s a gross emotional ploy to increase membership, and it really works. 

Honestly, I enjoyed church some of the time. The songs were pretty and the people were nice, but yeah--there was a lot of hypocrisy going on and I hated being policed so closely about what I wore. Thanks to my sisters’ influences I loved punk-rock/alt/goth music and the general scene/aesthetic (Green Day, MCR, Evanesence, etc) but that was super frowned upon. It was funny, looking back, because I loved all that but was too afraid to swear bc I did believe that Sky Daddy would punish me for it. Didn’t try coffee until I was like 23 I think. Was heavily discouraged from wearing black or any “upsetting” imagery, had to sit like a lady, had to talk proper and conduct myself in a way that meant I was proper wife material--which, you know, is a great goal to set in kids so young. Young Women had to have their classes separate from the Young Men and we were constantly being taught lessons about homemaking, motherhood, modesty, purity, all that stuff. Even when I was young it left a bad taste in my mouth but I never questioned it bc it was all I knew. 

My dad had a somewhat prominent leadership role in our ward and so bc of that we always had to keep up appearances but I was ALWAYS falling asleep at church, especially during testimony. It’s boring. So boring. And I hated wasting my Sundays sitting there when I could be watching cartoons at home instead. But the hymns were pretty and sometimes I could sneak away and go hide in an empty room and draw on chalkboards if I didn’t want to deal with people (I did this a LOT). I was a decent mormon but I wouldn’t say a good one lol. My family still went out for lunch every Sunday despite that being a holy day and it being frowned upon (but so many other families did it too, and we’d always laugh about it). 

My parents didn’t speak English very well so we were members of the Spanish ward the entire time. That backfired tho bc my Spanish has never been good so most of the time during bible study or other general lessons I was struggling to keep up or understand. Most members were bilingual so at least in the Young Women’s classes I understood everything perfectly. Another big tactic the LDS church uses (and most cults in general) is the doomsday one. I remember constantly being told that the earth’s last days were upon us and we were a special generation of soldiers handpicked by God to live in these times. I remember being scared as shit but feeling special despite it. Which, you know--yikes. 

I joined because it made my parents happy. I was eight years old when the missionaries were constantly coming around to our house and reading scripture with us and teaching us the great things about joining the church etc. I remember that so vidily--I would hide in a corner behind the sofa and listen and my parents were so hopeful about my sisters and I saying yes that it felt like I would have broken their hearts if I said no. But I mean, I was literally eight years old so they would have stuffed me in a proper dress and dragged my ass to church anyway LOL. I was baptized and I remember how proud they were, especially after we did the sealing ceremony--we still have the document somewhere with my small 8 year old handprint on it. 

As much as I didn’t like the physical act of going to and being at church, I still tried to believe and be good. Following the commandments is relatively easy and I prayed and forced myself to read the book of Mormon and was considered a “Good Kid” by the church leaders in our ward. Mostly because I didn’t talk much and nodded along to everything they said. I participated in doing Baptisms for the Dead even though it was a wild concept to me at the time and I did have issues with the consent aspect (or lack of it) at the time. But I started having doubts as a teen because I was starting to realize how sexist/racist/homophobic the teachings are. I was super depressed in my teens and threw myself harder into the faith because I thought doing that would heal me, or make my problems go away. And when the abuse or the bullying didn’t stop and the depression didn’t lift I kept asking myself: Why is god ignoring me? Why do I still feel this way? Am I not worthy? 

I did the girl’s camp thing and eventually became a counselor. I went to see Nauvoo and cried during the reenactment of Joseph Smith’s final moments. I dressed modestly and prayed every night and morning and before meals and tried to study the Bible. But it was so boring, and it felt like I was just playing a part. I didn’t feel happy. 

The older men in the church were very flirty. They sought me and my sisters out after services and would make small talk--I responded as best as I could in broken Spanish and would leave as soon as we could. Whenever we didn’t want to deal with people we would hide in one of the many classrooms and draw on the chalkboards or just talk to the other teens who were also bored out of their minds. When I was 17 or 18, I had to sit through a temple recommendation interview with my bishop (a 40+ year old man who worked closely with my dad). I was sitting in the chair in front of his desk and there was another chair, empty, beside mine, and he told me to imagine that God was sitting there, and so I felt pressure to answer honestly and not leave the room like I wanted. I was nervous and uncomfortable. He asked me if I was still pure. He asked me if I had ever masturbated. If I looked at porn. If I had a boyfriend. If I had ever done drugs or drank alcohol or taken God’s name in vain. This is not an isolated incident--it’s a common practice in the church to deem who is “”””worthy”””” of entering the sacred temple. 

I sort of blocked it out when it was over and didn’t think about it again. I got my recommendation and was happy about it and that was it. Looking back now, that is fucking MORTIFYING. And I guess that was really when the veil sort of started to lift and I felt more and more uncomfortable in the church.

My twin sis and I spent our freshman year at an out of state school, and that was the first time in pretty much our whole lives that we weren’t actively going to church for longer than a month. We felt so free--and cautious. She already had one foot out the door and I was toeing it. I felt SO guilty for not going or praying regularly, but eventually I found it wasn’t so scary. And my sis and I would talk about church and how we were feeling, and the weird shit we’d gone through, and go “that was fucking weird wasn’t it?” And just being able to talk that freely about it without our parents overhearing was huge.

I was coming to terms with the fact that I wasn’t as straight as I thought. My twin sis had already come out by then and made the mistake of telling our mom, who imploded and begged her to get counseling within the church to rectify it. I felt like I had spent most of my life living by someone else’s rules and had suppressed my true identity the entire time, and it was enough. I was also doing some research at the time and found the truth behind the church’s beloved founder/prophet Joseph Smith (pedophile/rapist, conman, etc.) which was really eye-opening. Also the church’s (at the time) super hard stance against LGTBQIA+ and gay marriage was kind of a neon sign blinking at me to gtfo. 

So I could keep going and living a life I didn’t like or I could get my Sundays back and actually live my life. Easy peasy. 

When we came back home for the summer we never announced it but we just stopped going. It was the exact same as you, anon--they kept trying to pressure and guilt us into going back with them. It worked a few times, but only for special events. 

Technically to officially leave the church you have to write a letter to your bishop to have him delete you from the record. I really wanted to do it but didn’t, because there are so many horror stories from other Ex Mormons who did this, intending to exit the LDS church but not have to tell their families, only for the meddling bishop to snitch anyway and form an intervention. Hard pass. Didn’t want to deal with it. And I still haven’t done it. I don’t think anyone would be surprised if I did it now. But I still think there would be fallout from my parents. 

So yeah. This was unnecessarily long but your question broke the dam open, lol. I could go on for even longer but maybe that’s for another time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm fucked up because I was in that cult for so long or if I was fucked up before it. Either way I’m out now and am living more or less deliciously so there’s that. 

(There’s tons of really good podcasts about the history of the founding of the church and the scumbags who abused their power (Joesph Smith, Brigham Young, to name two--I haven’t researched it that thoroughly though so I'm sure there’s much more. Also, the ExMormon subreddit is a fantastic resource for other accounts of leaving the church and it’s current/past issues, weirdly specific memes and introductions on how to make coffee.)

[sawbf]

Really though my frustration with Internet communication knows no bounds. It's easy to say "critical thinking is dead" and leave it there but it's less just critical thinking for me and more a culture that has fostered a desire for exclusively positive inclusion in discussions. It puts aside the value of either not being included and thus just listening to people OR being included in a criticism and absorbing and learning from that criticism. People can't stand being either left out or disparaged even when it's rightful. This applies to people making posts who get criticized too, though, because not having to include disclaimers when you post doesn't mean you shouldn't listen if you said something unintentionally hurtful, because it all applies to everybody... When it comes down to it it's about hypocrisy. And how being on the Internet sucks ass.