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greetingfromthedead · 6 months

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C83: Life and Death

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Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 83/84

Words: 2.2k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

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The pain is unbearable, your body is torn into tiny pieces, and you're aware of every cut, every piece. In reality, it doesn't last long, it's the briefest of moments before your consciousness is swallowed up by the dark abyss of death, but for your mind, there is plenty of time to analyze and feel. Yet, despite the physical agony your soul fears for the man you love most in life. You had seen Vash on the verge of giving in to his doubts and fears before you managed to get back on your feet. You knew that expression too well—the moment where his guilt washes over him, knocking him off his feet. The love you share with him is so strong, and you can't bear the thought of him losing himself in regret. You know that he deserves forgiveness and peace. You know what he is here to do, and you need him to succeed. You had promised to fight alongside him, to never leave him alone in his battles, yet here you are on the verge of nothingness, your last thoughts in this life filled with sorrow and guilt. You hope that he can forgive you for breaking that promise. You know he has gone through so much pain after the two of you parted ways, and now he had to see you being ripped apart before his eyes not once but twice.

Your world darkens and shatters until there is nothing left. You slip away into the void, weighed down by your broken heart. The emptiness consumes you unlike ever before, this is not the kind of nothingness you felt when you laid down in the coffin and wanted to die; back then, it was like falling asleep, a blissful escape from reality. Now, it's a suffocating darkness that engulfs your being, you still carry your pain and guilt with you, like a noose around your neck. You don't want to die, you want to live more than anything, you want to keep your promise of eternity.

The inky blackness no longer clings to you, and as you open your eyes, you see millions of stars scattered across the infinite expanse of the universe, twinkling slowly. You feel a sense of awe and wonder, as if you have finally found your place in the cosmos. It feels warm and welcoming, like a gentle embrace. As you look around, you realize you aren't looking up into the sky, you are standing, and the stars surround you anywhere you look. You are immersed in a breathtaking celestial plane. You take a step forward and notice the ground is water, the still surface reflecting the galaxies above. Your feet make ripples appear as you walk further along the surface. You continue on, captivated by the ethereal beauty of this world, it reminds you of something. Someone. The inky darkness is not absolute, there is a blue tint to it, and the stars glow with the color of Vash's eyes. As you gaze up at the sky, a feeling of longing fills your heart.

As you watch, more lights appear, they burn bright and yellow, different from the stars. Soon, comets begin streaking across the sky, leaving behind trails of shimmering dust. It reminds you of the Great Fall, when the heavens were filled with thousands of pieces of falling debris, spaceships torn apart by the atmosphere of the planet.

Suddenly, a very faint cry reaches you, it skipped across the water and landed softly in your ears. It sends a chill down your spine. It is too distant to make out any of it, but the desperation creeps into your soul regardless. You can't help but feel a sense of unease, wondering what could possibly be causing such anguish in a place so far away. And what is this place anyway? You start heading in the direction you believe the voice to have come from, hoping to find some answers and perhaps offer some solace. At first, there was silence again—no sign of anyone else being in this weird universe you have stumbled upon. But as you continue further, you begin to hear the wordless cries for help again, echoing through the empty expanse. It's not a voice, not really, it stirs something inside you, it's not your ears that perceive it, it's your heart and soul. It cries out for you.

You turn around again to look at where you just came from and see a golden, formless figure. It doesn't look like a human , but rather a divine being, radiating pure light. The cries of anguish come from it... him. There is no doubt in your mind about who it is. You would recognize him anywhere, no matter what face he wears or what he looks like. Vash's presence is unmistakable. He cries out to you, pleading for help and salvation. You can feel the weight of his pain and desperation. This form of his is covered in golden, melting feathers of light, and from between them, purple flower petals fall into the water beneath, disappearing into the abyss.

You rush towards him, your feet splattering water as you run across the surface. Every step you take, it gets harder to continue, like invisible hands are pulling you back, trying to keep you from reaching him. But you push through the resistance, determined to get to him. Soon enough, it feels like an uphill run as you force your legs to take one painstaking step after the other without the gap between you closing.

"Vash!" you call out to him, your voice echoing through the air. You need him to know he is not alone, that you can hear his sorrowful pleas, and that you are coming.

You can't run anymore; you're just desperately forcing your body forward. It feels like you're being undone at the seams. An invisible force is pulling the threads of your being to the brink of exhaustion. It doesn't matter, the universe can destroy you for all you care, but you have to get to him.

"Red!" you shout louder, your hand desperately trying to reach out to him, and you see the light blue Plant markings starting to glow on the back of your hand. The fine lines creep down your fingers and up your arm, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. It fills you with warmth, and you feel the lines tracing along your body.

With every step you take to close the gap, your body starts to burn up. Like your skin is set on fire, the heat radiating from Vash's otherworldly form feels like the sun. He is in pain, and that alone rips you apart more than this force ever could.

The markings on your body shine brighter, and as you are just a few steps away from him, they start to smoke, but it doesn't simply disappear into the air, instead, it forms tiny little feathers growing out of your skin along the lines. The excruciating pain peels back the layers of your being as your hand finally reaches Vash.

"Love!" you say more tenderly as your hand pushes beneath the melting feathers where you presume his face to be. Your heart fills with relief and hope, knowing that you have reached him at last, but there is no response from Vash.

You try to push aside the feathers as they drip golden light onto your skin, the blue petals touching you gently before disappearing into the water. You call out his name, hoping for a sign, but all you hear is silence.

"Vash!" you shout out louder still as your hands cup his face underneath all these feathers. Your own skin is still being ripped apart, with the appearance of further little stumps of white down. You pull him closer, pressing your forehead against where his must be.

"My darling, I am here! I am by your side!" You say as you shut your eyes tight, the tears starting to stream down your face. "You have to wake up! You hear me? You have to come back! I know it hurts! But you have to find your fight again!"

You let your arms wrap around him and pull him against your chest. You are engulfed in an inferno, the intensity of which outshines the flames in your heart. It feels like your skin is burning off, both from the inside and the outside.

"You are with me, but you are not safe! You have to wake up again! I know it hurts, but you can't give up! Keep fighting until the end! You are their only hope! You can't let your brother use you like he used me! He will try to manipulate you and hurt you, but you have to be stronger! You have to overcome this!"

Your voice is insistent as you nuzzle your face into the feathers where his neck is. You squeeze his burning body tight, refusing to let go despite the pain and the tears. The soundless cries for you stop, a silence falling onto your universe.

"I'll be with you! Always! I will come back to you! I promised! So don't you dare join me here! You have to fight! I am sorry, it is not fair! But you have to!" You cry as you squeeze him tight, feeling his warmth and love enveloping you. You can tell that the molten light is no longer rolling off him and over your arms. The heat starts to let on, and you feel his body move under your embrace. You pull back to see the golden feathers start to fall away, revealing his form that you are more used to. His blue eyes look into yours with sorrow and longing.

"My Iris..." his soft voice whispers as you take his face into your hands again. The feathers sprouting out of you are gone too, the markings emitting just a dim light. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" you squeeze him. "This is not your fault! But you don't have time either. You need to go back and find a way to fix what is happening. You have to stop Knives! Like you said you would. I will be by your side. Just like I promised! But you have to go back!"

He looks at the urgency and tears on your face and realizes the weight of the situation. Your words ring true, and he knows that he cannot ignore the call to action, but his whole being longs to remain with you, so he grabs you into a hug.

"I am sorry for everything. I failed you in so many ways," he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow, it trembles with emotion as he continues, "I promise, I will make it right."

"I have nothing to forgive you. I love you, and I will stay by your side till the very end. I promise you, my love!" You push a gap between your bodies to place a longing kiss on his lips, which he returns without hesitation, sealing your love.

"You must go now. You can't stay for a moment longer!" You feel the time slipping away, filling you with dread. "I'll see you soon! Now go!"

You give him a strong push. He stumbles backwards, his red coat flapping around him like it has a mind of its own. He looks at you with sadness and longing. He knows you are right, he knows what he must do, but part of him wants to be selfish and stay.

"Go! Go, save the world, Red!" You shove him again. "Don't worry! Whatever happens, I'll protect you!"

With another push, he loses his balance and falls backwards.

"I love you!" he makes his last declaration as he plunges into the water, disappearing beneath the surface.

Your push echoes through the layers of Vash's being, it awakens his hope again, reminds him of all the reasons he wants to keep fighting. It rekindles his love and ignites a fire within him that refuses to be extinguished—your fire. Hope returns to his heart with his desire to protect humanity. Rem.

Vash is awakened from his brother's manipulation, aware enough of it to start fighting against it. The love in his heart blooms into a mighty force, incarnating as the woman he knew as his mother and giving him the strength to overcome this nightmare. She guides him out of this dream and towards the world outside.

"Vash! Vash, please! Wake up!" Another voice calls out for him, and he recognizes it as his friend, Meryl. He isn't alone in this fight; he has allies by his side. He has to keep going for their sake.

The gate Knives had forcibly opened through Vash is now closing as he wakes up from his dream, realizing that it was all fake. He understands that he must face the harsh reality of his situation and can't stay in the blissful dream Nai has painted for him.

The blossoming roots that have reached far over the horizon start to retract, the force caving in on itself as Vash makes his way back to reality. Somewhere above him lay your remains, some pieces have grown little tendrils, desperately trying to piece you back together while the rest are turning to ash—destruction and regeneration. The roots Vash had sprouted have been cradling you in their protective embrace, but now they are being pulled in with the rest. As they move you closer to the man you love, you become one with the woody tendrils. Your body lets itself be consumed completely, merging your essence with the purple blooms that have been holding you. Your body gets swallowed into the cube in Vash's hand, and his final battle begins.

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#tempest wind #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #Trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #Humanoid Typhoon #vashxreader #vash x reader #x reader #plant boi #Vash the Stampede

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thetypedwriter · 3 years

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All the Young Dudes Fanfiction Review

All the Young Dudes Fanfiction Review by MsKingBean89

So.

This is a first.

If you’ve been following this blog for some time, then you know I generally read young adult books and write far too lengthy reviews on them with the occasional outlier of adult fiction, mystery, sci-fi, etc.

At any given time, I usually have both a physical book that I’ve bought from somewhere that I’m working on (right now it’s Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley) as well as a fanfiction that I reserve until before I go to bed (my treat for a day well lived).

Fanfiction is something that I’ve mentioned copious amounts of times on this blog in varying degrees, but this is the first time I’ll be writing an actual review for one of them on this platform.

The reason for this is myriad.

One, this fanfiction called All the Young Dudes is a far-cry from your normal standardized fanfiction of 5-50,000 words-something I can easily consume in a few minutes to a few hours.

Nope, this behemoth ends on a staggering 526,969 words and 188 chapters, not including bonus chapters and extra in-universe canonical content the author has also written and published. Roughly speaking, if this was actually published onto paper it would be well over 2,000 pages.

2,000 pages.

Yeah. And I enjoyed every single moment of it.

Two, while I read a lot of fanfiction I generally don’t put any of it on this blog because while I’ve dedicated it to published novels, I also usually have very simple feelings about fanfiction. My thoughts run the gambit of: It was good, it was fluffy, it was a train-wreck, so on and so forth.

Normally my reviews are so long and wordy because I have too many thoughts about the published books that I read and I need an outlet to let them loose.

Whether because of its longevity or because of its content, All the Young Dudes is a story I find myself having a profusion of thoughts for. Hence, the birth of this review.

If fanfiction isn’t your thing, feel free to skip this particular review of mine (although fanfiction is a gift to this world and you should really rethink your stance on it if you don’t like it, just saying).

Third, All the Young Dudes is well written and rivals any actual published content.

Fourth, because of how extensive this fanfiction is, it took me over a month to read it-time I generally would have been reading something else. Instead of leaving you all hanging for a few more weeks until I finish Firekeeper's Daughter (don’t hold your breath-the book is sort of a slog for me personally right now), I decided to just take the jump and write my first-ever typedwriter review for a fanfiction.

Fanfiction has been a part of my life for the better part of almost two decades now. It was truly something I found by accident and in retrospect, it’s insane to me that it’s still something that brings me continuous joy and happiness.

I discovered fanfiction when I was 11-years-old and deeply obsessed with the Harry Potter fandom.

Now, as an overall disclaimer I completely disagree with J.K. Rowling’s stances of gender and biology and differ wholeheartedly with her views of trans and non-binary individuals. With that said, I still love Harry Potter as a story and while I no longer buy anything that profits J.K. Rowling directly, I still love the fandom and the people in it, including fanworks like All the Young Dudes.

When I was 11, the seventh Harry Potter book had yet to come out and like many other people in this time period of agony while waiting for 2007 to roll around so that I could find out what happened, I discovered fanfiction as a way to fill in that ache I was so keenly feeling.

I found myself suddenly immersed in this world of online fiction-both good and bad-but completely entrancing all the same.

I never left.

That is to say, I did eventually move onto other fandoms with their own fanfiction cultures, but Harry Potter was still my first in terms of fanfiction and introducing me to the concept as a whole.

Specifically and maybe oddly, I never found myself curious for actual fanfiction about Harry or Hermione or Ron. In my mind, I already knew what had happened to them and reading about them in fanfiction was redundant.

In addition, the first fanfiction I just happened to come across was a Lily/James marauder era fanfiction on mugglenet.com

This idea immediately intrigued me as fans as a whole knew next to nothing about the infamous Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs and while I knew everything I needed to about Harry Potter it was intoxicating to think that I could learn about a time before the series had existed and about characters who were important, but off screen.

I was hooked and devoured as much as I could for most of middle school about the marauders and Lily and James’ romance in particular (I even wrote and published some of my own that will go unmentioned as they are truly really terrible).

That being said, I haven’t read a Harry Potter fanfiction in years. I grew up and out of the fandom eventually thanks to Twilight and from there I’ve bounced from fandom to fandom as I’ve aged and consumed different things and fallen in love with different characters and different worlds.

That isn’t to say I’ve forgotten though.

I still remember my favorite marauder stories, my favorite Sirius Black/OFC (original female character), and my favorite baby Harry drabbles. They made such a huge impression on me and even though it’s been sixteen years, I still recall those stories with fond nostalgia and jubilation.

Which is why it’s almost ironic that I would return to this particular time period of the marauders with All the Young Dudes.

In a fashion that’s almost scarily full circle, I happened to be on Youtube one day and saw a recommendation video about this girl reviewing a fanfiction called All the Young Dudes. Now, youtube book reviews aren’t uncommon, but a thirty minute video for a fanfiction? Not your typical sighting.

So out of pure curiosity, I searched All the Young Dudes fanfiction on Google and low and behold the overwhelming and top results were all for a marauder-era fanfiction by MsKingBean89. Piqued, I clicked on the link in ao3 and thought why not?

While I’ve mainly been reading in other fandoms recently (BTS, some anime and manga, All for the Game) I had been in a little bit of a slump for finding a really good, really alluring story for some time and really didn’t think I had anything to lose by reading All the Young Dudes, especially as the more research I did, the more I found how popular it was-a plethora of videos on youtube, tiktok compilations, and dozens of fanart posts.

Plus, it had been so long since I had read anything from my progenitor fandom and the thought of going back was strangely comforting.

Hence the journey of reading All the Young Dudes began and oh what a journey it was.

Now, that this review is already five pages in, I should probably tell you what on earth All the Young Dudes is actually about.

The whole story is a marauder-era fanfiction told from Remus Lupin’s POV from the summer of 1971 when Remus is 11-years-old to the summer of 1995 when he is 35-five-years-old. It is an in-depth portrayal of Remus’ time at Hogwarts from year one to year seven and then going all the way up to the start of the second wizarding world, ending around the time Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix begins.

While already the scope makes this a massive undertaking, the author also includes all canonical content from the original series involving Remus, the Marauders, and the time period and incorporates it into her fanfiction-making it canon compliant from start to finish.

While a very large portion of this story is not romantic, there is eventual WolfStar (Remus Lupin/Sirius Black) and if you have read the original Harry Potter series...well. You know things don't end up super dandy for these two characters in particular so you know how the story will end before it begins.

This fanfiction left me speechless for so many reasons.

The scope and length is frankly unbelievable. This fanfiction was published on March 2, 2017 and it was completed on November 12, 2018.

….how?

How did she manage that? I frankly have no idea, but I am in complete and utter awe at her ability to write content with such a magnitude and actually complete it. She gets an award just for that honestly.

Not only that, but the fanfiction is actually superbly well-written. I won’t lie and say it’s the most poignant and beautiful piece of literature I’ve ever consumed, but it was consistent in its pacing, characterization, themes, motifs, and structure, which, for 2,000 pages, is an incredible achievement when you think about it.

Speaking of characterization, everyone was So. Well. Done.

Remus was such an interesting POV to read from and while he was compliant in every sense of the word-werewolf, prefect, bookish-MsKingBean89 added so much more to his character and fleshed him out so incredibly that it’s truly tragic that he’s not a real person.

And to that extent, she does this with all of the characters. You see James’ optimism and leadership, Sirius’ arrogance and loyalty, Peter’s jealousy and chess skills.

Every character was so well-rounded and real. She did an incredible job of taking the bits and pieces from the canon series and using that to build up her own flesh and blood people with motivations, likes, dislikes, dreams, and desires.

That being said, she also had 2,000 pages to do it sooooooo it would be bad if the characters weren’t fleshed out by the end honestly.

In addition, I really appreciated that she didn’t just focus on Remus, Sirius, James and Peter. Lily Evans played a critical role in Remus’ school life and after and so did the other Gryffindor girls like Marlene and Mary.

Too often, the focus is on the boys and their close friendship and while that was a huge focus, we also get to see Remus develop friendships with the girls in his own right and other friends as well that were often OC’s of the author’s.

Now. OC’s are generally something I dislike. I’m reading fanfiction to read about particular characters that I’ve sought after, not to read about some imaginary cast. However, just like any of the canon characters, all of the OC characters were well-developed and played crucial roles in Remus’ development-while either at Hogwarts or after-and I found myself not minding them in the least. In a few cases (Grant) I actually really loved them.

The biggest draw for this fanfiction for me was Remus’ time at Hogwarts. It was so well-written and incredibly descriptive and I found myself thrust back into the world of magic so suddenly and seamlessly that it was like I never left.

MsKingBean89 includes so many intricate details and builds up the world so beautifully that I’d recommend any Harry Potter fan to consume it, just to get some good Hogwarts material out of it.

Another thing I greatly appreciate about this fanfiction was the slow burn. I’ve read slow burn before (All for the Game trilogy anybody?), but this truly took the cake. Sirius and Remus don’t properly get together until the end of year six going into year seven. That’s over 100 chapters in.

100 chapters out of 188.

Meaning that over half of this beast doesn’t have the main pairing even together. For some people, this could be a drawback. You might think to yourself: It takes how long for them to confess their feelings and stop being prats?

A very, very long time.

However...it didn’t bug me. I like slow burn to begin with, but being along for the ride as Remus goes from being a child to an adolescent with unrequited feelings to being in a relationship with someone he loves is so rewarding and fulfilling that the 100 previous chapters are completely and utterly worth it.

MsKingBean89 develops them so well and so carefully that the payoff is so sweet and satisfactory that it's enough to bring the tears right then and there.

The last huge feat of this fanfiction for me was the author’s dedication to canon not just confined to Hogwarts and the Harry Potter books, but also to the time period. Either she lived through the 70’s and 80’s herself or she had done her due diligence when it comes to research because anything from London anti-gay laws to British slang was commonplace in her fic.

I found it completely amazing how she was able to tie in real-time historical and cultural moments like famous singers and movies playing at the time alongside convoluted muggle politics warring with the wizarding ones.

I was so blown away by the accuracy and genuine love behind this fic that it often brought me out of my own mind to simply ponder once again how much work this was and how well she was delivering it.

Even unpleasant things, like homophobia and bigotry, are dealt with in a very carefully constructed way that is aligned with the time period in which the story takes place.

Unfortunately, everything beautiful is not without flaws and All the Young Dudes is not the exception, although it’s flaws are nary compared to its achievements.

The few complaints I have with this fic are honestly quite negligible.

First, there are a few grammatical and punctuation errors. Very few, but I did notice some.

Next, and again, this complaint is really just me whining, but...the end of the fic was really fucking sad. The end of this whole story took me so much time to complete simply because I didn’t want to read it.

I know what happened during the first wizarding war and I also know what ended it (James and Lily Potter dying, Harry being shipped off to the Dursley’s, Sirius imprisoned for a murder he didn’t commit, Peter presumed dead) and in one fell swoop Remus lost everything and everyone he ever loved.

After spending over 1,500 pages of Remus growing to love these people it is absolutely devastating and heart-breaking to see him lose it all.

The last handful of chapters are just really, really sad and it makes me wonder why MsKingBean89 decided to write it in the first place. Frankly, I don't know why she didn't write about Remus’ time at Hogwarts and stop after graduation because we all know what happens after that and none of it is good.

Looking back, I wish I could time travel and tell myself to stop at chapter 150. I truly didn’t need to read about the tragedies that happened after that and the hell that all of the characters go through.

And while it does end on a….sort of kind of maybe positive (?) note with Sirius and Remus reuniting briefly once the events of Harry Potter and Prisoner of Azkaban take place, it was really tainted and bittersweet for me knowing that in a year Sirius would die and Remus would marry his fucking cousin and have a child.

Urgh.

I just can’t.

That being said, I understand it’s not the author’s fault and I’m not saying it is. She wrote a canon compliant fic to the end and it was my choice to continue reading. That being said, she said she ended it before the events of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix because Sirius and Remus are happy and back together and she didn’t want to write what was coming next if she continued.

I truly, truly get that.

But in the same vein, why even write the events of the first wizarding world to begin with then? I’m confused with that response as it doesn’t make much sense to me. I felt like ending it right then and there was not a happy ending. They’re together, yes, but at this point they are both shells of who they used to be. Both have severe trauma and PTSD and frankly I don’t even know if I agree with them being together just because they’ve put each other through so much.

It’s just an interesting choice at the end of the day in terms of the author.

Once again, however, I truly understand that she can do whatever she wants and that she doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially as she’s writing this for free and just because. So please keep in mind that although I’m complaining, I truly understand how fortunate we are to even have this fic in the first place.

Okay.

Secondly, my only other huge complaint is that MsKingBean89 made Remus gay. Not bi, not pan. Gay.

You could argue that Remus just calls himself gay in the fanficiton as he didn’t know about other kinds of sexuality. You could argue that Remus’ sexuality changes and develops as he ages and experiences trials and tribulations. You could argue that it was a sign of times like so much else in this fic.

I frankly just found it to be a frustrating choice as the fic is canon compliant and even though it ends before the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows we know that Remus eventually marries Tonks and has a baby son named Teddy Lupin.

How does that make sense?

I tried very, very hard to come up with some sort of feasible explanation for how a gay man would have ended up with the love of his life’s female cousin and truly could not think of one that was not fucked up to some degree.

Again. I know I’m being nit-picky, but it irked me that she made this choice regarding Remus’ sexuality and essentially ended her fic with Remus stuck in a corner regarding how the series actually ends.

At the end of the day, all of the negatives are truly, truly not important. I’m just whinging to whine and to express my thoughts, but I do once again understand that MsKingBean89 isn’t profiting from this fic and that she can do what she wants as is her prerogative.

I hope I was able to express that while I understand that, I can still be frustrated with some of the choices she made.

To wrap this all up, All the Young Dudes is a masterpiece and is a must-read for anyone who loves Harry Potter, the Marauders, or Wolfstar. I was blown away by the sheer magnitude, the love and care she put into her craft, the slow and deliberate development of all the characters, the beautifully constructed love between Sirius and Remus, and the intricate world-both muggle and magic-that surrounded the story like a cocoon.

I am so happy I found this fic and I truthfully am floundering at what to do with myself next. If you have any more current Marauder era fics that I’ve missed out in the past eleven years, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

Recommendation: Go read All the Young Dudes. For weeks, you will cry, you will laugh, you will despair, and you will smile. This fanfiction will make you wish this was canon and in my mind, it now is.

Score: 8/10

Links:

1. All the Young Dudes on ao3

2. The Youtube Video about All the Young Dudes that made me aware of its existence

#all the young dudes #wolfstar #Harry Potter #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic rec #marauders #book review #Book Recommendations #fanfiction recs #fanfiction review #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fanart

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tfhub · 4 years

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Promise

I can't believe how beautiful my life is now. During highschool i was your everyday thug below average grades, bully, drugs addict, etc.

My life took a turn when she came to me, she was like an Angel, a Nobel women it was love at first sight. Her Love changed me for better. Soon after highschool we got married.

It's been 3 years since then and I have a decent job now, not to mention she is pregnant and I feel like the happiest man on earth.

On the day of delivery,

Near the operation theatre doctor seems to be ina hurry

" Doctor!! Is everything alright and going smoothly. "

" About that..., there seems to be complications and we are sorry to inform that we can only save one of them you must choose between your wife and child.. "

I was shocked but without thinking much "The wife... Please! Doctor save my wife!"

Moments later a loud noise followed

"NOOOOO....!! THE CHILD NOT ME THE CHILDREN!!"

It was my wife , and her words like end of the world. Tears broke from my eyes. Soon after the doctor said iam blessed with Triplets 1 Daughter and 2 Son's.

"And my wife.."

" She is still awake and want to meet you"

In operation theatre,

"Dear did I do well 3 children hahaha..."

With tears in my eyes I began to sob "Yes honey..... you did well...... very well.. .. "

"Dear.... take good care.... Ok..and promise me.. you will stay with them..."

After she finished, she left me, with a Nobel like peaceful smile on her.

Now, it's been 10 years since she died and I unable to fulfill my promise to her died last year. Now just as ghost I try to fulfill my promise to her.

Shana ( daughter ), Shun ( elder brother ) and Shaun ( younger brother ) they all live separated now because they were adopted by different families. Initially they don't want to leave eachother but,

Shana was very identical to her mother thus, was chosen to be adopted my a big family so Shun and Shaun did not put much resistance to let her go for bright future.

Soon after Shun and Shaun too were separated.

Shaun was very confident and was comfortable around stranger so I don't need to worry about him much.

But,

Shun was a nice kid infact he was way to nice to live in this world. He even helps his bully and saves him from punishment after getting bullied.

Years passed my nothing much happened They all are in college now. Shun no longer gets bullied apparently because he was the luckiest when it comes to good genes not to mention he is smart and innocent as hell. Look at him drinking coffee with his friends.

But good things don't last forever. The college scum Danny have bad interest towards Shun. He always look at him with this uneasy look. But sometimes Danny remindes me of my past self imean he is not like me but gives similar badboy Vibe not to mention he is from a very rich and powerful family so he act all high and mighty. He doesn't even care about college rules and smoke whenever he gets a chance.

Just after finishing gymnastics class in locker room,

It seemed fishy when the coach asked only Shun to stay after class with him but little did I know Danny bribed coach for this. Shun returned to the locker room it seemed deserted but when Shun was in middle of changing I heard a shout,

" Ah....!!! "

I never look when my children are changing or taking private time but I had to this time.

It was Danny , he hit Shun with a metal bat. I can't believe my eyes, was he trying to murder my son I started praying to God to save my son's life but, Danny had different intentions.

He tied Shun to a bench took off his remaining clothes and started doing some nasty stuff to him. I can't believe this if happening, Danny seems to be only preparing and waiting for him to regain consciousness.

I know what I have to do now, I have lived as a ghost for 10 years now in this time I have met other ghosts and they taught me about my current position. Unlike them I am not bound to this realm with desire but promise instead therefore i can't possess but have greater influence. I flew to Sam, Shun's roommate he is short and fat but he is a true friend of Shun. I can't use my powers unless we share same goal.

The night passed away and Sam way now worrying about Shun. He was half naked but I don't have time to worry about such things. I was a bit worried since it was my first time but continued by overlaped my presence with him and formed a symbiotic relation.

"It will be painful but endure it" I sad to him

Sam seemed flustered but moments later Sam's body now engulfed in burning pain as his body fat melted and rock hard muscles started appearing with his hight now rapidly increasing. Sam in agony rushed out of the bathroom in confusion and pain,

"Wha..t. is happening...to....me!!?"

He noted the change in his voice and was shocked to the bones.

"I know it was painful but it was necessary your old body was not adequate to save Shun"

In shock Sam turned to the mirror.

"I know you are surprised and confused but save it for later and move we must help Shun quick!"

"Wait what!? My body is moving on its own but I am still in control.. what is happening?"

"Don't worry kid, I will not be here for much longer and currently you are far better than your old self "

"Truly I have never felt this energy before but what do u mean by you will not be here for much? And...."

Interrupting in between "All you need to know is that this is the new you weather you like it or not."

Meanwhile In locker room,

Shun started to wake up" What happened... ahhh..my head wait What!!? why am I tied? what is happening here!? "

In a cocky voice " Good morning, mister Nice guy! You sure sleep like a baby. I kept pumping my self up with vitality booster all night for you."

Shun in confusion "Danny is that you. Why am I naked and whats going on.... Wait!? What are you doing AHH.....ahm......... STOP no please! Ahm...........ah....!!"

Danny while grin on his face "HAHAHAHA... l can't believe you all I did was suck you dick and God! Where were you hideing a huge 10 inch monster like this. I never thought DEFILING a pure sprit like you can be so... much fun!"

After some time Sam arrived in the locker room and in desperation looked for Shun but the search didn't end pleasant with eyes wide open he saw Shun covered in cum and Danny thrusting his dick inside.

Danny in pleasured voice "hm....I don't know who you are, anyway Look Shun we have got some company maybe they want in on the fun hahaha..... You are so popular are you not by little pure Shun... correction by Monster Dick Bitch!"

Both Sam and I looked at Shun his eyes no longer had the light to live on, we were furious and wanted to distroy Danny so bad we rushed " YOU BASTARD!!! " and punche him with all our might. A bright flash occurred .....

Moments later,

I realised I have been separated from Sam. And Sam was carrying Shun and was preparing to leave it seemed like he doesn't remember me at all. I looked around for that bastard and saw him on the floor in most miserable position But, something doesn't fell right.

After a few months,

Looking back now I totally messed up, that day the bright flash was because reality changed a lot. Let's say Sam have no recollection of his past self or me and was a total dude from beginning. Danny is trash with no talent or smarts and to top it all off now belong to a poor family with no background. But, Shun got a total upgrade, he still have his past characteristics and trait with new found confidence. Also, he was adopted to a strong and rich family in this new reality. Only down side is he is no longer our inocent Shun but who cares he is still cute.

#male tf #male muscle growth #male shapeshift #male possession #reality change #jock tf #nerd to jock #ghost possession

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therainbowwillow · 4 years

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https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641354616733401088/therainbowwillow

Epilogue!

Here it is, the last part of this fic. And here is a sappy note from the author: Thank you all so, so much for reading my first-ever fanfic I’ve posted here! As I said in the very first parts, the hardest part of writing (for me) is posting what I write! To publish your art (written or drawn or sung, etc) is to show a part of yourself to the world and it is intimidating. The support you readers have given me has encouraged me to finish (me? finishing something?) this fic and has inspired me to keep posting my writing on here! Thanks a million for joining me on this trainwreck of a fanfiction.

Premise/last time (my last synopsis? AH!): Orpheus’s song succeeds. Hermes’s prophecy is fulfilled when Orpheus discovers his new immortality, at the hand of Hades. Persephone is allowed to choose where she spends her time, in Hadestown or up above. Eurydice and Orpheus look forward to their future, a lot longer than they had expected. Achilles and Patroclus are given a second chance at life and guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Hyacinthus stays with Apollo. Hermes is unemployed and tired but at least his son is alive.

It hadn’t taken Orpheus and Eurydice more than a minute to decide they wanted to go home. The Olympians had murmured amongst themselves. Gods, they had said, who do not have any desire to remain on Olympus? Sure, it wasn’t unheard of to live away from the city. But to visit only for hours? That wasn’t common.

Hermes had understood in an instant. They had come to plead for their lives and they’d left with much more than they’d bargained for. They longed for normalcy. They’d said their good-byes to Apollo and Hyacinthus, shining with his newfound immortality. The journey home had felt short, Hermes had been half-conscious for most of it. Persephone and Hestia helped him down the ramp, leaving Olympus behind him.

The train ride had been silent. Orpheus and Eurydice had sat side by side, hand in hand, never looking away from his bedside.

The flowers in the meadow turned their heads to Orpheus, God of Song, as he passed, though no notes touched his lips. Persephone helped Hermes inside and they’d slept.

When he’d finally woken, Hermes found Orpheus and Eurydice outside his window, laying together in the meadow. They sat beneath a tree and Orpheus strummed his lyre, humming the notes of a new song, flowers blooming around him, warm raindrops against his cheeks. Hermes watched them from his bed, to weary to stand.

The sun, perhaps curious at the sound of Orpheus’s music burned off the clouds and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Eurydice was the first to notice. It was a novel sight after years without a spring. She pointed it out to Orpheus, who watched it, wide-eyed, and then switched to singing about the colors above him.

...

Today, almost exactly a year after their original return, Orpheus and Eurydice would be married, in the light of spring. Orpheus stands beside his wife, sipping a glass of nectar. Eurydice frantically adjusts her veil. Orpheus sets down his drink and takes her hands in his. “Hey. You look great, love. What’s wrong?” he asks her.

“It’s just... we never could’ve done this before...” she sighs. “We could never have paid for all this. And now...”

“We won’t lose it this time,” he promises.

“I know. It’s hard to forget that we did once.”

He nods in understanding. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, lover. Sure, winter will be cold, summer will be hot, but it’s spring now!” He places his hands on her waist and sways back and forth. Eurydice smiles. She grabs his hands and spins him under her arms.

“It’s spring,” she agrees.

The guest list looks exactly as they’d agreed it would on the first train ride home. Hermes received the first invitation, as he still lived with the soon-to-be newlyweds. Persephone, residing nearby with her mother and son, received the second. Hyacinthus and Apollo were in attendance, and Achilles and Patroclus. Hera had blessed the wedding and Aphrodite had agreed wholeheartedly. In some stroke of madness or courage, Orpheus had sent a letter to Hades, inviting him to stop by. He hadn’t received a reply.

Written inside the cards was indeed Eurydice’s poem, to which she had objected after the letters had been sent. Still, she’d slept with a copy of the invitation under her pillow for months.

The set-up had been easy enough. A few notes of coaxing and, as promised, the trees had laid their wedding tables. Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, had given them a wedding arch of pure light. Persephone and Demeter had provided a feast and Hermes had delivered most of their invitations.

Apollo walks Orpheus down the isle. He trembles with anxiety. Hermes hands Eurydice off to him and he clutches her hand, beneath their arch of light. “I’m gonna forget what I’m supposed to say,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Orpheus, you aren’t gonna forget.” He nods, hoping she’s right.

And she is, of course. “I can’t promise you fair sky above,” he vows, “Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. Walk beside me.”

“Any way the wind blows,” she swears. “I will.”

Their kiss is long and filled with love. Eurydice’s fingertips brush against the thin scar across her lover’s palm. The tiny gash that had decided their forever.

The rest of the night is marked by music. Apollo is supposed to be the one performing, but Orpheus can’t help himself. Eurydice joins in, singing beside him, and soon the crowd is cheering for the newlyweds’ song. If Apollo is jealous, he doesn’t show it.

At Orpheus’s allowance, he leaves his position on stage and spins out a beautiful dance with Hyacinthus. Apollo notices his lover has grown his hair out. He has it tied back in a wreath of purple hyacinths, revealing the gash over his eye, the mark of his death he’d always kept so desperately hidden. Apollo brushes his finger over the scar. Hyacinthus looks away. “Hey, I like it,” Apollo says.

“I wasn’t sure about it. I... I used to wear my hair like this. You know... before? I thought maybe-”

“I love it.” Apollo silences him with a kiss.

The wedding celebrations carry on long into the night. Hermes looks on as Eurydice and Orpheus share their final dance of the day. Somehow, by some miracle, their tale had turned out this time.

“Hermes,” Orpheus takes a seat beside him, as Eurydice prepares a snack inside. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Hermes pulls his son into his arms. “I wish I could’ve done more,” he says. He opens Orpheus’s palm, examining his scar. “I wish it every day.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “You couldn’t have done more. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. You saved my life. Endured Hades’s wrath in my place.”

“And you saved me in turn. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I wish... you hadn’t gone through so much for me,” Orpheus whispers

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Orpheus,” he says, honestly. They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you still feel it?” Orpheus asks, suddenly.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What?”

“His wrath.”

“Do you?” Hermes inquires.

“I never felt it the way you did. It would always... end. A few seconds of agony and it would all be over,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

He hesitates a moment. “I do,” Orpheus admits. “Aches and pains, bad dreams, however it manifests, I can always tell.”

Hermes nods his sympathy. “I understand.”

“You were worse. You... you were asleep for days, weakened for weeks. And when you woke... you looked older, so tired. I was afraid for you,” Orpheus tells him.

“Finding you in that cell, Orpheus... that’s how I felt. I wish I could take all of that pain away from you,” Hermes says.

“I’ll manage,” Orpheus promises. “However long it takes.”

“I know you will.”

Eurydice returns with a plate of fruit and glasses of nectar. She hands one to her husband and the other to her father-in-law. “Happy zero-th anniversary, Orpheus!”

He blushes a deep gold. “We’re married!” He remembers. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet!”

Eurydice looks up at the full moon overhead. The scent of cherry blossom is on the air. She sits beside Orpheus and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here,” she tells him, softly.

“I am too.”

————————————————————-

Achilles and Patroclus established their residence in the countryside. In thanks for their protection of her daughter, Demeter provided bountiful harvests, year after year. They sat beneath their fig orchard and watched the stars, rejecting offers of glory in trade for the peace and quiet they longed for.

Decades passed and like all good things, their quiet lives came to an end. Achilles was the first to return to Hadestown. He fell ill in late winter. Patroclus never once left his side, providing food and drink and finally strong medicine until his lover breathed his final breath.

Patroclus watched the pyre go up in flames. He collected the ashes in a golden urn, half filled. His nights were cold and lonely and the harvest felt tedious. He watched the stars alone each night, just as he had promised he would. Finally, his time came.

...

He wakes, feeling unrefreshed. He pulls the cover back over himself and closes his eyes again. “Patroclus,” voice from behind him calls. A dream, he knows. He’d had plenty before. He shuts his eyes tighter.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says again. “Mind looking at me? It’s been a while. I missed you.”

Patroclus rolls over. His lover stands before him, young and healthy in a small bedroom. “Achilles?” he mutters. “This isn’t real.”

He prepares to turn away. Achilles takes his hand. His eyes widen at the touch. “No, Patroclus. You’re here!”

“Where ‘here’? Achilles, what is this?” he asks.

“Welcome to Elysium!” Achilles exclaims, taking a seat beside him. “Hades kept his promise.”

Patroclus blinks. “I’m... dead?”

Achilles nods. “Yes. Now we get to stay here. For real this time. I made Hades swear it, on the River Styx.” He brushes the hair out of Patroclus’s eyes. “If you’d like, I can show you around, but I’d rather you rest first. Dying is tiring work.”

Patroclus sits upright. “Achilles... I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I was afraid when Persephone brought you in that something was wrong. She told me that it was common, for shades who died in their sleep to stay asleep for days, even weeks,” he explains. “It wasn’t particularly comforting. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“I didn’t have coins to cross the Styx!” Patroclus realizes.

“I paid your fare.”

“What? How? You weren’t on the banks with me.”

Achilles shrugs. “Persephone told me she’d seen you so I worked on the factory assembly lines for a few days until I could afford to bring you over. I bet she would’ve done it anyway if I hadn’t scrounged together the change.”

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully.

“It wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t worked for years. Kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“Years?” Patroclus asks, alarmed.

“No one in Elysium works all that often. In the rest of Hadestown, most shades work part-time, with two weeks’ vacation to Elysium annually, plus weekends,” Achilles says. “And... oh, I shouldn’t tell you until you’re ready to see for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Patroclus insists. “Please tell me.”

“The sky. It’s not the overworld, but it has its own beauty. It’s quite impressive, and it isn’t even finished. I guess if you’d like we could-”

“Yes!” Patroclus exclaims. “I watched the stars. Every night. It wasn’t the same without you, my love.”

Achilles helps him to his feet and guides him through the house. Through the door of their cozy bedroom, down a short hallway, they step down a flight of stairs and out the front door. It opens to a landscape of rolling hills under otherworldly green lights. The stars are swirls in the sky, illuminated in strange colors. “Stars?” he whispers in awe.

“Hades stopped trying to recreate the overworld. He made it... something else. It worked, clearly. Come, sit.” He shows Patroclus to a well-used patch of grass beneath a fruit tree and lowers his lover to the ground.

Patroclus twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. “This is real,” he observes.

“Orpheus’s song does reach down here. And Persephone keeps everything growing, especially this time of year, springtime in the underground. When she’s with Hades, it’s like summer. Underworld summer. Patroclus, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it really is-”

“It’s incredible.” Patroclus’s lips touch Achilles’s and neither man pulls away, not for an eternity.

----(Decades prior to the deaths of Achilles and Patroclus)----

It had taken Persephone over two years to make her decision. She’d felt bad to keep her husband waiting all this time, but living up on top was bliss after all those long winters. It was summer of the third year when she finally returned.

...

Hermes arrives at her new residence, this one closer to Hadestown, looking awful. For a moment she fears the worst. That her husband had torn up the world all over again. But what he tells her is more frightening.

“Persephone, this summer’s been too long,” he announces. “Orpheus is powerful, but not this good. He’s been singing day and night to keep the weather in check. Singing for months There’s a spring and a fall and a winter, but it won’t last long. Next year, I’m afraid the crops will burn or-”

Horror fills her. “Is he alright?” She asks. “I knew it was getting hotter, but I never thought...”

Hermes sighs. “I’ve seen worse. But it’s wearing on him. He’s too tired to get out of bed these days. Eurydice’s there to help, of course, but he can’t do this forever, Seph. Not even a god can remain eternally awake.”

“I’ll go,” she agrees.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. Your mother can control the seasons. With her help-”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve made my choice. Tell your poor boy I’ll come by one last time. Let him stop singing.”

Hermes accepts this. They walk up the railroad track in silence.

He gently opens the door of his and Orpheus’s residence. He hears Eurydice, giving words of encouragement.

“It’s been months,” Orpheus says, his voice raspy with strain. “I dunno how long I can stay up. Even gods sleep.”

“I know, lover. But you’ve done so well. Don’t give up now.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “Just... a few more weeks, right? No,” he corrects himself, “Months. It’ll be fall soon. Then winter, then spring.”

“Spring is break time.”

“I know. It’s only... it’s two seasons away.”

Hermes hears her miserable sigh. “You’ve been brave, Orpheus, to keep fighting.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

He gives a little yelp of pain.

“Sorry. I should’ve changed these hours ago.”

Hermes opens the door. Orpheus looks up from his bloodied fingers. He smiles. “Hey Hermes! I’m sorry, I have nothing for us to eat. The song stopped producing a few days ago and I’m struggling with the lyre now that my fingers... well... It’ll be harvest soon. It won’t be ambrosia, but it’ll have to do.”

“No.” Persephone sits beside him. “It won’t have to do. We can fix this. I’m going back to Hadestown. I won’t be long. Spring always returns.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Orpheus exclaims, “My song will be enough until it’s spring again. Don’t go back. Please.”

“I miss him, Orpheus. I do. I’m going... home.” It feels strange to call Hadestown ‘home’. It was most often known to Persephone as ‘hell on earth.’

“Only if this is what you want, Persephone,” he says.

“I do. Please get some rest. Starting now.”

He smiles wearily as he leans back against his pillows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you when you bring back the springtime next year,” she promises.

He gives a little nod and he’s asleep, almost the second his head hits the pillow.

Hermes helps Persephone onto the train. Charon drives now, rather than himself. “Take care of Orpheus for me, will you? And give this to Dionysus.” She hands him a envelope. “He can come visit whenever he likes.”

“I will. If you need anything, just send a message.”

“See ya next spring!” She waves as the train pulls out of the station.

...

She remembers Orpheus, almost lifeless, collapsed in a booth just like the one she sits in now. Only three years. It feels like a century. How much he’s been through, she thinks. How much he’s changed. He isn’t the young man who’d collapsed at her feet in Hades’s throne room all those years ago. She has no doubt in her mind that he would’ve sung ‘til spring if she hadn’t gone.

The routine of the train ride is something of a comfort. She watches the scenery fly by outside her window. Green fields, nearly ripe for harvest. All thanks to Orpheus.

The train grinds to a halt. She steps into Hadestown, beyond the wall for the first time in so long. Bluish lights illuminate the stone walls of the city from above. The shadows cast by the buildings aren’t so harsh as they had once been. She raises an eyebrow.

She follows the streets down into the heart of Hadestown, hell on Earth. A young couple passes her, hand in hand.

“Hey, miss?” A woman calls. She turns. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?” the girl asks.

“I- no. Not really.” Persephone looks up at the city skyline. Her husband’a tower is no where in sight. “Where’s the tower?”

“The tower?” The woman looks confused for a second. “Oh yeah! I’ve heard the stories! They took it down during the revolution. You want a glass of wine, miss? If not, the bar’s always open if-”

“Hush,” Persephone cuts her off. “If we’re discovered, there won’t be anywhere left.”

The woman’s brow furrows. “Discovered by who? Mister Hades frequents our establishment.”

“We can’t be talking about the same man,” she says, astounded.

“You sure you don’t want a drink? I’m new here, so maybe someone will know more than me.”

Persephone nods, numbly. The woman leads her down the same street she’d walked a hundred times. Instead of a thin, secluded allyway, the entrance to her old bar is well-lit and wide open. It’s exterior is painted with a mural of carnations. She steps inside and is recognized almost instantly.

“Lady Persephone!” The bartender calls. “We’ve missed you down here!”

“Ampelos,” she recognizes the young man, a lover of her son, Dionysus, and the best bartender around. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has! We didn’t think you’d come back!”

“Yet here I am. Where’s the tower, my friend? Or the throne hall, I suppose.” She inquires. “I should find my husband.”

“I’m sure Hades will stop by soon enough. Dionysus’s spring wine.” He hands her a glass. “Hades kept the recipe.”

“There’s no vineyards down below,” she corrects him. “How much are you smuggling?”

“None.” He shrugs. “Orpheus’s song changed a lot.”

“Did my husband put you up to this?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s been different since the revolution. We’re still rebuilding, so there’s plenty to do, but having our memories back is nice. So are the shorter shifts. Five day weeks, nine-to-four. The weekends, we do as we like and our two weeks’ annual vacation time can be spent whenever we please. Pay isn’t half bad, though we’re campaigning for more currently, hence the flower. It’s the symbol of our revolution.”

She blinks in disbelief. “Funny.”

“No, I’m not joking,” he protests. “Things have changed.”

Persephone shakes her head. “Not Hades. Hades is unmovable. He gave us a chance because that song made him soft. Nothing more.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t come this far alone, true. It took a lot of willpower and good minds to convince him to let go of his iron grip on Hadestown, but we did it,” he explains.

The bell chimes at the door. Persephone freezes in fear at the sight of her husband. She’d dreamt it a hundred times, that he’d take away her last safe haven. “Hades,” she pleads.

He stares at her. “Persephone?” He waits for someone to laugh, tell him it had all been a joke. No one does. He moves closer. He doesn’t dare to touch her. He sees her eyes well with tears. “A glass of wine, Ampelos,” he commands.

Her lips part. “You know him?”

Ampelos shrugs. “Like I said. He’s a regular.”

“Hades...”

He cracks a smile. “I suppose I do drink more than I once did. I hoped you wouldn’t judge, Seph- sorry, Persephone,” he corrects himself.

She takes his hands. “Hades... you let us go. You let them go. It’s true?”

He nods. “I promised you change.”

“I didn’t think...”

“I don’t blame you. Persephone... why did you return?”

“The weather became hotter and hotter the longer I stayed. I couldn’t let the world die for me,” she says. “And Hades? I... I missed you.

“You made your choice?” His voice hasn’t lost its old commanding tone.

She closes her eyes and exhales. “I have. I made a promise too. I told them up on the surface I’d be back by spring.”

“I told you I wouldn’t keep you here,” he says, almost irritated. “But I understand your doubts.” Hades sips his wine.

“I’ll stay,” she promises.

“For me or for them?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits.

He nods. “Will you walk with me?”

Persephone takes his hand and leaves the bar behind her. The streets are cleaner, the air is easier on her lungs. The city is lit by beams of blue light, dazzling the buildings in colorful rays. Carnations are painted on some of the walls, leftover from the riots. “I stopped trying to make it look like it does up above,” Hades informs her.

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” He stops to ask her.

“Yes.”

“The shades seem to prefer it too,” he adds.

“They’re happy, Hades,” she tells him.

“I feared they only kept up the ruse around me to save their skins.”

“No. It’s genuine. They smile. They laugh. I never thought I’d see the day,” she remarks.

They continue walking, past the crumbled remains of factories and newly opened restaurants. “Where are we going, Hades?” Persephone finally asks.

He shrugs. “Where do you want to go?”

She’s surprised at her own request. “Home,” she says.

“It’s gone,” he responds, bluntly. “The tower fell before I returned.”

“Then take me to wherever you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I have no home. I held off. You were never happy in the tower. I wanted you to choose where we should reside.”

“I don’t understand,” Persephone says. “You don’t have a home on the surface. You live here year round. Why should my six months matter more than your twelve?”

“You’re my wife.”

“And I’m telling you to pick a place. So do it.”

He guides her down the street in silence, away from the center of town. She recognizes the route he’s taking, remembers the last time she’d come this way. It had been no leisurely stroll then. She instinctively reaches for her pocket, retracting her hand when she remembers she’d left her flask on the surface.

The tightly packed streets open to an empty field, a single dilapidated building at the far edge. Persephone carefully steps over the glass ruins of her now-fallen greenhouses. She rests her hand upon the door of the last building that stands. She exhales and pushes it open.

The scent of flowers strikes her. Her jaw drops. The garden blooms before her, as if she’s on the surface. As if the vines cannot tell that the sun is a million miles out of reach.

“Hades...” she whispers, rapt.

“It will improve in your care,” he says.

“You did this?”

“I did my best,” he tells her, modestly. “Orpheus’s song does reach us.” He pinches a dead leaf between his fingers. “But it’s been quiet lately.”

She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the garden and pats the spot beside her. Hades joins her. “Last time I was here, I used these vines to strangle the man you sent to attack me,” she reminds him. “After he shot Orpheus, that is. I was too late. As always,” she scoffs. Hades says nothing. “No, you look at me, husband.” He turns towards her. “You’re trying. But it ain’t easy to forgive.”

He nods in quiet understanding. “What happened to him once I left?”

She shrugs. “Hermes could tell you more than I could. I spent time with the three of them when things got rough, just after we got home from Olympus. It took Orpheus a long time to get back on his feet, even with the help of your ambrosia.”

She sighs, remembering those long, long weeks. “He’d sleep all day and wake up screaming. Some nights, he wouldn’t speak to us; he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong. He’d just cry and cry until he lost his voice or I gave him something to knock him out. It was unbearable. But we bore it, Eurydice and I, while Hermes slept. Eventually he improved, but even now, some days are harder than others.”

“Whatever you did to him, it never went away,” she accuses him. “The same for Hermes. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, not anymore. But sometimes... sometimes I know it wears on them.”

Hades stares at the vines at his feet. “I would take it all back if I could,” he says, quietly.

“I know you would. I wish I could relieve their burdens, more than you know.”

“You have burdens of your own,” he reminds her. “The weight of their strife is mine to carry.”

She wonders if he wants her to refute him. “Yes, it is,” she simply agrees. “No amount of apologies, no amount of reform will ever take away that pain.” She stands and turns her back on him.

He reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “I know. I’m not asking you to forgive. I know you cannot forget. But we have another chance, Persephone.”

“I don’t know what I want, Hades.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #hadestown au #like i said its hardly an au lol #oh well #at least my warm up is done #its eighteen parts long #end me #therainbowwrites

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

He Imagines Going Home: Dex

Dex, your angst is killing my ability to write coat-smut and I hope you’re happy

CW: References to serious trauma and violence, broken bones, stitches, blood, etc. But no real violence here. Just some references/implications.

I made myself cry again with this one. Dex’s POV destroys me, every time. Read Dismantled, Insecurity by @spiffythespook, and Reconstruction for context. Oh my god I have to make a Wrex Master List and new moodboard don’t I.

When she wants him to brew the coffee, three days after she nearly killed him, he cannot stand. She comes into his room, into the warm darkness he's been sinking in and out of, and orders him to stand.

He tries.

He fails.

Instead he crumbles to the ground and lands in a graceless heap, barely managing to catch himself - wait wrong hand no no no too late - and he doesn't scream when his weight lands on the splints and broken fingers of his right hand.

He exhales, slow and deliberate, as agony blossoms up his arm and settles into his mind. There might be a whine - not quite a whimper - that laces the edges of the air as it leaves his lungs, but other than that… he doesn’t scream.

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

"Disgraceful. Three days of stubble, three days without a shower. You are an absolute fucking wretch." Her voice is low. “You should be dead. You don’t deserve the mercy I have given you.” She has done this to him, but it was his fault. He let her see that he is not her perfect masterpiece, after all. This is all his fault.

"You have lazed in bed long enough. I told you to stand up."

He tries.

He fails, again.

At least this time he manages to slump onto his knees. She has always liked them kneeling. She likes it now, he can feel the tension in the air shift and dissipate, just a little. After twenty years, Dex knows Karen Renford inside and out. He has made only a few mistakes.

He should have known better than to fight her, defy her insistence he not see Wright again. From the moment he signed why, he had been walking into her trap. She knew, she knew that he loved someone when he was not meant to have that feeling. He couldn’t keep that knowledge from her any longer.

All he can keep a secret, now, is that he wants to believe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

She stares down at him, and he can't bear to look up. Broken man, beaten and battered, my own fault. He keeps his eyes on the floor. She doesn’t command him to look, so he doesn’t. He is afraid if he looks, he won’t be able to hide how much he hates her any longer.

His face throbs, a pulse of pain along the stitches in time with his heartbeat. Disfigured. He had wondered if it would be enough to ruin him, in the eyes of the only person who called him beautiful when he was not bleeding.

Dex knows she sent him a photo of Dex's face to test the other man, to see how angry he would get.

Lovely work, darling.

Tears threaten again - hot and insistent, and he has cried so much in three days that his eyes feel worn and painful - and he fights them back. His message to Karen was a lie, Dex is sure of it. He is certain, and he breathes the message, in and out, like a heartbeat. Paradise Lost by the history section on a Tuesday.

Peter's voice but Wright's words - the words meant only for him. Dex clings to that message with what battered, cracked hope he has left. Sorry for what she did. He wants you to know that he called for you.

For you.

Not her.

Wright likes him as he is, has spent so long pushing apart the empty spaces to find what Dex had so carefully hidden inside, and he can’t keep going if it has been a lie all along.

Wright often compared him to Kintsukuroi, broken pottery where the cracks have been filled with gold. At first, Wright had suggested the gold came from Karen. Later, he had said - in Dex's ear, a breath and want against his skin - that Dex himself was the gold. Filling in her edges with the parts of his own true personality that Wright helped him to rediscover and bring to the light.

Outside, the sun has not yet risen - but Karen Renford has always been up before dawn, making use of the grayish half-light to take some time for herself.

My house is so full, She says with a smile to guests at parties, and her four Box Boys - three from the Facility and poor Henry, who never stood a chance once she got her claws in him - don’t speak a word of disagreement. Obedient, and any of them could walk right out the gate - except Henry - but they don’t.

They can’t.

In the present, Karen’s foot - bare, and it is so rare that he sees her without her red-soled heels, only in these soft gray hours of the morning - taps on the floor impatiently. He swallows, and manages, with a groan he bites back behind his teeth, to push back until he is sitting on his heels.

Everything hurts, and there is no part of him, inside or out, that isn’t begging for it to stop.

"If you can't stand," Karen says, her voice cold, "Then you will crawl. I trusted you, Dex, and you betrayed that trust. Go downstairs and make my coffee. I will be down when I am dressed. Don't dawdle. You will not appreciate my response if the coffee is not at least brewing when I am ready.”

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

He cradles his broken hand on his lap, and waits for her to leave. Watches her feet turn on a dime to walk lightly, nearly soundlessly, out of his room. Hears the sound of the hallway bathroom door opening and closing. The shower turns on.

He tries to stand.

He fails.

He crawls.

Bruised skin aches, cuts and welts are pulled back open - and Seb won’t like cleaning them again, Dex thinks dimly, as he crawls out into the hallway on the second floor. They will soak the loose, light-colored shirt and pants he was given with more drops of blood. The red will spread and spread and dry brown, and it’s been so long since Dex had to wash blood out of his own clothing, and he cannot even stand to scrub at the stains now.

His bones are screaming, as he navigates the stairs awkwardly, having to slide down like a child. Sit on the step, place your feet, balance with your good hand, pull yourself down.

Each thump to the next step, and the next, is an agony.

He grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, breathing harsh and fast through his nose, and keeps going.

He tries to stay silent.

He succeeds.

When he makes it to the bottom, to the landing, he can see the front door. There was never a time, in his life in this house, where Dex could have walked away. He is too broken, too bent to her will. He can’t walk out now.

But for the first time in more than fifteen years, Dex stares at the door and he dreams about it. He pictures himself, standing tall and unbeaten, with his hair sort of ruffled the way Wright likes it.

He thinks of himself, in the green sweater Wright gave him and a simple pair of black pants, turning the doorknob with an unbroken hand. He thinks about stepping outside to look at the grayish-pink sky, about walking with even steps to the front gate.

He fights the instant, conditioned fear (you’re only safe with a collar, the collar is how you know someone wants you) and imagines himself without a the band of leather and the tag, with his neck bare to the rising sun.

He imagines a car, waiting for him at the end of the street.

Someone to take him somewhere other than hell.

Someone to bring him home.

The tears are back, and this time he lets them fall, because there will never be a car, there will never be a rescue, and he taught himself so long ago not to dream like this.

Back up the stairs, there is a shuffle, Karen moving from the main hall bathroom to her bedroom, and he swallows. He can’t be sitting here when she’s dressed. He can’t be hurt any worse than this, he can’t. He has to heal, so he can get to the library.

Dex looks at the wall, just beside him, and then at the kitchen. If he steps with one heel to the other foot’s toes, it’s maybe thirty-five steps from here to the coffeemaker. Maybe twenty-five - he can’t remember right now.

If he can stand.

Upstairs, Karen is getting dressed and his time is running out. Sebastian is still asleep - Madam doesn’t need him to cook her breakfast on a workday, she gets moving too early for that. Peter will be asleep on Henry’s floor. Seb told Dex yesterday that Peter’s been sneaking in there after Karen goes to bed, bedding down on the floor, and then getting up before Henry does and sneaking back out again.

Henry had nightmares, the night after Karen hurt Dex. Since Peter has been sleeping on his floor, he hasn’t had any more.

Peter and Henry have secrets, too.

Dex puts his hand on the wall, bracing himself, and he tries to stand.

At first he fails.

He drops with a thump back to the floor, but he has to be able to stand because he will have to walk to the library on a Tuesday afternoon, to read Paradise Lost in the history section. It was the second half of the message Peter gave him, and if he can’t walk, he can’t go to the library without Karen’s knowledge.

Wright did not have to tell him to keep a secret.

No, Dex was a wealth of secrets when it came to Wright Farling. She had found out one of them - but she would not be given any more. He would die first.

He nearly had.

For Wright, he would speak - or stay silent - no matter the cost.

He slams the palm of his broken hand against the wall with a frustrated, strangled groan, tear tracks drying on his face as something other than grief and fear and despair settles underneath his skin.

He is… he is suddenly so angry.

He had exactly one thing, in the world, that belonged to him. And she has taken that, too, the way she took everything else. The way she took his life from him, when he had signed up for something else.

There were blows to his head, with the cane - the spark of white light, the agony without physical pain. Ever since, in the three days he has spent in bed, there are things breaking through. He signed up because he wanted to try and be better with his fears, his phobias. He wanted to be part of a program to mentor at-risk kids, he knew that much.

He signed up to try and save his relationship with Ben, too.

He doesn’t know who Ben is.

It’s not important.

Ben doesn’t exist, in his life, any longer. But Wright does. And he has to stand, because he has to walk, because if he can’t walk he can’t get to the library and if he goes there, maybe…

He tries, one more time, to stand.

This time, he succeeds.

It’s a slog and it hurts and his legs are begging him to go back to his hands and knees, but he won’t do it. Not this time. He uses his brace against the wall to steady himself, pushes up onto his feet.

It hurts, it hurts so much, but the simmering anger underneath takes away a little of the pain.

Dex, breathing in pants, stares across the short entryway to the open doorway to the kitchen. Thirty-five - or twenty-five, please God if you’re real let there be less than thirty-five steps - to the coffeemaker. The bag of coffee is right next to it, sitting on the countertop, a special blend she has custom-made by a local roaster.

He can do this.

He has to do this.

He has to walk.

Dex looks down at his bare feet - even his feet are bruised, and he doesn’t remember her hitting them when he was curled up on her office floor but she must have - and then he looks back to the coffeemaker.

He moves his right foot first, testing its ability to hold his weight. His knee trembles, his thighs scream in pain, but it holds. So he takes one step, dragging his left foot behind him, trying not to force it to do any work it doesn’t have to do.

Once he has moved a single step, he picks up his left foot, and tests how well that one will hold. He manages, hissing through his teeth. He hurts so badly. There are so many pains that they run together into a constant refrain, water that will drag him under to drown. He fixes his eyes on the coffeemaker, lets them go distant, the awareness of his own body and the world around him sliding away.

In training, in the Facility, nearly everyone learns to do it sooner or later. When they won’t stop hurting you - when you can’t take another second - when there is nothing in your world but pain and cold and exhaustion and fear… you learn this.

His body hurts, but it is not his body. His heart is breaking, but it is not his heart. His fingers are broken, but they are not his fingers. He wants to collapse but he will not, not this time. All Dex is, and was, and will ever be, condenses to a singular goal of get through this.

All he is, now, is a determination not to fail again.

He tries to walk.

He succeeds.

His steps shuffle, and are impossibly slow. He keeps one hand on the wall for balance. Behind his distance and the careful soft fog he has wrapped himself in, he can feel the agony trying to break down the walls. It wants his attention, demands it.

You did this to yourself. This is your fault for asking why. This is your fault for what you’ve let yourself become. This is your fault for having a voice. This is your fault for letting her see the cracks he helped you remember how to fill in with gold. This is your fault for ever wanting them filled at all.

Each step punctuated with blame, responsibility, a twist of his heart. Another crack, breaking down the dam. He never takes his eyes off the coffeemaker, off his one single goal to survive the pain and the fear and keep moving, one foot in front of the other, until he is on the other side of this.

This is your fault for falling in love.

Dex chokes back a sob, forces it into the silent constriction of his voicebox, where all the words live until he is alone with the only person who ever truly listens to him. He keeps walking, step by slow step, until he is in the kitchen doorway, and the coffeemaker is so close, so close.

He has to stop.

He takes a break to breathe, panting through his mouth now, sweat broken out across his forehead and face. He can feel the blood sticking his clothing to his skin from reopened wounds. Opening his mouth even a little pulls slightly at the stitches Sebastian so carefully sewed into his face.

Disfigured. Disgraced. Imperfect. Broken. Brainless. Unwanted. Your own fault.

No.

He takes a deep breath through his teeth, feels the oxygen fill his lungs, and then he starts walking again. Step by slow step, feet dragging on the floor, feeling a trickle of sweat or blood down his back and he doesn’t know which and he doesn’t care, any longer.

He keeps his eyes on his goal, and lets his mind spiral outwards.

When Dex makes it to the countertop he has to hold himself up by his good hand with white-knuckled fingers, his broken hand hanging uselessly down at his side. Fingers splinted together with Peter’s imperfect, well-meaning movements, twisting constantly to check the tutorial video. He and Sebastian gave Dex the only medical care he would receive for this.

He loves them both, Dex realizes with a deep twist inside of him that is nearly a whole new pain. He has always held himself distant from the others, too afraid that if he got close he would give away his secret. He has always set himself apart, hidden in the office to work on Karen’s household management, played Chopin too long and too loud to give them the privacy to hide from him, too. He has been the informant, the one who would tell Karen anything and everything.

He had thought himself feared, distrusted, disliked.

He thought of Sebastian sitting by his bed, dabbing at the wounds as he laid there staring with dull eyes at the wall, saying softly, I’m so sorry, Dex. I’m so sorry she found out about this. I’m so sorry, we’ll figure something out, okay? I’m so sorry-

He thought of Peter holding him while he cried, whispering you’re a good boy, he called for you, not for her. It’s going to be okay, Dex, it has to be okay. Listen, he says go to the library when you can walk again. Go on a Tuesday and read Paradise Lost by the history section. Okay? He said that, he said, I’ll walk you myself if you can’t go alone yet, but we’ll get you there. I don’t care if she notices I’m gone, I’ll take the blame, it’s worth it. We’ll get you there. I’m so sorry-

He thought of Henry sneaking into his room when he thought Dex was asleep, setting up his mp3 player and speaker on the side table next to Dex’s bed, and the way a recording of Henry’s own first composition - he’d been sixteen years old and Dex had been so proud of him he had nearly broken his own rules to tell Henry so out loud - began to play. The way Henry had paused next to his bed, and whispered, I wish I knew how to help. I’m so sorry.

He loves his brothers, each and every one, and he wishes he could have been someone they could trust.

Tears drop onto Karen’s butcher-block countertops and Dex lets them fall, breathing in low soft moans of pain so he won’t open his mouth too much, leaning himself on the counter with his chest for balance so he can measure out the coffee with his good hand. The aches are back, but they are inside as well as out.

He’s wasted so much time, lost so much - more than half of his life under her thumb, and he doesn’t remember the first half at all.

He has so little left - but he has so much more than he thought he did.

Once he has shuffled along the counter to the sink, filled the carafe with water, and set the coffee to brewing, he waits. When Karen comes downstairs in a loose, figure-skimming sweater and tight black Ponte pants, she looks him over thoughtfully. He looks back.

He has more than she thinks he has.

He is more than she thinks he is.

He is not brainless. He is not disgraced. He is not disfigured he is not imperfect he is not broken - or if he is, he can fill the cracks in with gold. He can take what she made and remake himself, make something new.

He can be something new.

He is forty years old, but it’s not too late.

“Acceptable.” Karen gives him a slight smile - cold and unfeeling as every other expression. “Kneel.”

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

He doesn’t go to his knees gracefully. He simply drops with a crack to the floor, automatically, all at once. Puppet with strings cut, barely a man at all. He stays there while the coffee brews, while she pours herself a cup and adds a bit of cream. He stays there, right where he is on the floor by the counter, until she has gone to sit outside and watch the sun rise.

Only when she is gone does he raise his eyes, and stare out the sliding glass doors towards the garden. The sky is a brilliant blend of oranges, yellows, and pinks reflecting off a thin covering of clouds. The sun will burn the clouds away and the sky will be a brilliant blue soon enough.

Dex crawls on his knees to the glass door, to lean against it with one shoulder, to sit and watch the dawn.

He is not unwanted.

This is not his fault.

Paradise Lost, he mouths to himself, his eyes on the sky. By the history section on a Tuesday.

Dex imagines a car waiting, down the road. A door opening, a smile tipped up at him as he climbs inside the passenger seat and buckles himself in. Lips to press against the back of his hand, fingers wrapped around his, unbroken. A hand on his bared neck. Eyes that look into his, eyes that see him.

Eyes that always see him.

Are you ready to go? The man asks him, with a hint of a winsome smile.

I was ready five years ago, the Dex in his mind answers back, with the little teasing smile. You made me wait.

You have a point, Dex, darling. Aren’t I the lucky one that you are such a patient man? The tone is teasing, but the words are sincere. Dex feels a warmth, inside of himself, that begins to seep in and around and over the pain.

Gold, to shine through the cracks.

He imagines the car pulling away from the sidewalk, driving down the street, out of the neighborhood, the city, the state.

He imagines being driven away from hell.

He imagines that the man will one day take him home.

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spongeaddict · 4 years

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Fanfiction Year in Review!

Fanfiction Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @xxiamaclichexx! Spoilers, obviously, for all my fics that I’ve written thus far.

1. List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished

Two For The Show -- longfic, started in January 2020, completed in May 2020

Anniversaries -- twoshot, started in June 2020, completed in August 2020

Three To Get Ready -- longfic, started in May 2020, completed in December 2020

My God, I wrote literally all year long. Twelve months straight, from January to December. Holy cow.

2. Number of words written

TFTS: 91,025

Anniversaries: 6,009

TTGR: 87,078

Total: 184,112

WHOA

3. Your most popular fic

TFTS had over 8400 views this year, but it still comes in third place over all, behind Scooby Doo and the Mysterious Tape (over 11k views, finished in 2010), and One For The Money (more than 53k views, finished in 2019)

4. Your personal favourite

How do I choose between my children?!

I think overall, I’m going to say TTGR was my favorite this year. It had all the things I love -- secret romances, jealousy, betrayal, angst, a creep factor, and even a little bit of humor! I don’t usually write angst, but I had a good time with the chapters where it was present. I also got to do some really interesting character work in TTGR, which was super fun and exciting for me.

5. Your fave scene

I mean...I just love that scene in TFTS where Tony catches Shaggy and Velma making out in the practice room. I did a lot of nervous-laughing on behalf of everyone involved while writing it.

Also (I know I’m cheating here) I love the scene at the end of TFTS where Fred tells Daphne he loves her kind of off-the-cuff, and Daphne, who’s been trying for the entire story to work up the nerve to tell Fred that she loves him, bursts out laughing. It was so easy to picture Daphne trying to come up with the perfect, heartfelt way to share her feelings and then Fred, being so genuine without realizing it, just says “I love you” like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you

For whatever reason, any time I needed Marcie and Velma to interact in TTGR was a challenge for me. I think I got too much in my head about the whole thing, and it seemed like nothing I had them do or say was organic. I rewrote the guest-room-at-Tony’s-party scene a bajillion times before I landed on something that I liked.

7. A line of writing you’re proud of

I know this says “a line of writing,” but I’m gonna cheat again and do like, a paragraph for each story I published this year. Don’t tell me what I can’t do!

TFTS, ch 14: Fred took a deep breath, apparently steeling himself for a difficult confession. "I've always had a fear that the people I love will all leave me one day," he told her. "I didn't even realize I felt that way until I was thirteen and found that letter my mom sent to my dad. I mean…if my own mother could leave me behind like that, what was stopping my dad? My friends?" He exhaled and looked into Daphne's eyes. "It even happens in this play. Diana leaves Dan at the end. Just like my mom left my dad. Just like she left me." He shook his head. "You and the gang are the most important people in my life. And when Shaggy's dad said that thing at the end of the summer, about how one day we'll all go our separate ways…I started to panic." He swallowed. "I don't want anyone in the gang to separate, but I'm terrified of losing you the most."

FRED IS SO SINCERE protect him at all costs

Anniversaries ch 2: Shaggy grinned and pulled her closer. The wind was starting to pick up, and he was starting to regret the ice cream just a teeny tiny bit. But having Velma snuggled up next to him warmed him throughout.

"Besides," he said. "It's not like we have to worry about it right now. Why worry about things that like, haven't happened yet?"

Velma snorted. "Says the guy who goes into a fetal position anytime Fred even suggests investigating a haunted house."

Shaggy nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "My point is," he told her. "We like, already made it one year. Who's to say we won't make it another?"

"That's true," Velma conceded. "And it's been a pretty good year."

"The best," Shaggy agreed.

They pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes. Velma sighed contentedly and murmured her favorite line from In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.

"But for now we are young, let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see."

Shaggy opened his eyes and gently tapped her once on the nose. "One," he murmured.

Is it arrogant of me to swoon at something that I wrote?

TTGR ch 12: Velma left the practice room first, eyes stinging with more unshed tears. She forced them back into their ducts as she made her way to her locker. I can't let Daphne and Fred see me like this, was all she could think to herself. She couldn't let them know that anything was wrong. She had to get a hold of her emotions. She needed to seem apathetic. Detached. Even though it felt like her chest was ripping open and everything inside her was screaming in agony.

Back in the practice room, Shaggy could feel his heart pounding like a drum against his ribcage. His pulse reverberated through every muscle in his body, and it seemed so loud that he was sure other students could hear it out in the hallway as they walked past. He leaned against the concrete wall and tried to steady his breathing.

He couldn't believe it. Velma had broken up with him.

Or had he broken up with her?

Regardless, they had broken up.

They were broken up.

I have to go, he realized. He couldn't stay in this room – he'd need to face the real world eventually – and besides, Scooby was almost certainly wondering where he was. With another shuddering breath, he wiped his eyes and steeled himself to leave the practice room.

Their practice room.

The thought had been automatic. With a sharp gasp, Shaggy clutched his middle, as though physically trying to hold in his anguish. How cruel it was that their relationship had ended in the same place it had begun. He had always thought of this place as theirs, ever since last year. But now, there was no more their anything. They were no longer a they. It was him and her, separate, apart. And now it would be forever.

His chest seized up and his throat tightened, burning. I can't stay in here, he told himself, even as his heartbreak surged. I need to leave this room.

But he allowed himself a short, muffled sob before swallowing and finally bracing himself towards the door.

I’ve always felt more comfortable writing dialogue than descriptions, but I felt pretty good about this paragraph about the aftermath of a breakup.

8. A comment that touched you

Oh come on!

Every single review means the world to me, and I’m lucky enough to have a handful of consistent reviewers who always read my work carefully, and their comments truly reflect that.

Though I will say, the comment that made me truly feel like my writing did its job successfully was from a pal of mine in Discord who, after reading a breakup scene, said, “I feel like I just got broken up with.” (Sorry again @complikated1)

9. Something that inspired your writing

Lord, so many things. My whole life and everything I’ve ever read. But mostly Scooby Doo.

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic etc.)

I mean, I essentially wrote two novels and two short stories this year. I’m pretty proud of that (and so is my husband...so much so that he outed my accomplishments to my whole family, who are similarly proud.

11. Do you have any writing goals for next year?

Several!

Start - and finish! - the finale, Four For The Road

Finish this got-dang Fraphne oneshot I’ve been promising to write

Begin writing ~what comes next~ (IT’S A SECRET, SO NO SPOILERS)

#fill this out if you want #scooby doo fanfiction #scooby doo fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @hauntedsiriel @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...

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kalakian · 4 years

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Mahirap maging Pilipina, ngunit masarap sa pakiramdam na sa panahon ni Rizal, itinuring n’yang kapantay ng kalalakihan ang kababaihan. Malinaw ito sa kanyang sulat para sa kababaihan ng Malolos.

To the Young Women of Malolos

by José Rizal

When I wrote Noli Me Tangere, I asked myself whether bravery was a common thing in the young women of our people. I brought back to my recollection and reviewed those I had known since my infancy, but there were only few who seem to come up to my ideal. There was, it is true, an abundance of girls with agreeable manners, beautiful ways, and modest demeanor, but there was in all an admixture of servitude and deference to the words or whims of their so-called "spiritual fathers" (as if the spirit or soul had any father other than God), due to excessive kindness, modesty, or perhaps ignorance. They seemed faced plants sown and reared in darkness, having flowers without perfume and fruits without sap.

However, when the news of what happened at Malolos reached us, I saw my error, and great was my rejoicing. After all, who is to blame me? I did not know Malolos nor its young women, except one called Emila [Emilia Tiongson, whom Rizal met in 1887], and her I knew by name only.

Now that you have responded to our first appeal in the interest of the welfare of the people; now that you have set an example to those who, like you, long to have their eyes opened and be delivered from servitude, new hopes are awakened in us and we now even dare to face adversity, because we have you for our allies and are confident of victory. No longer does the Filipina stand with her head bowed nor does she spend her time on her knees, because she is quickened by hope in the future; no longer will the mother contribute to keeping her daughter in darkness and bring her up in contempt and moral annihilation. And no longer will the science of all sciences consist in blind submission to any unjust order, or in extreme complacency, nor will a courteous smile be deemed the only weapon against insult or humble tears the ineffable panacea for all tribulations. You know that the will of God is different from that of the priest; that religiousness does not consist of long periods spent on your knees, nor in endless prayers, big rosarios, and grimy scapularies [religious garment showing devotion], but in a spotless conduct, firm intention and upright judgment. You also know that prudence does not consist in blindly obeying any whim of the little tin god, but in obeying only that which is reasonable and just, because blind obedience is itself the cause and origin of those whims, and those guilty of it are really to be blamed. The official or friar can no longer assert that they alone are responsible for their unjust orders, because God gave each individual reason and a will of his or her own to distinguish the just from the unjust; all were born without shackles and free, and nobody has a right to subjugate the will and the spirit of another your thoughts. And, why should you submit to another your thoughts, seeing that thought is noble and free?

It is cowardice and erroneous to believe that saintliness consists in blind obedience and that prudence and the habit of thinking are presumptuous. Ignorance has ever been ignorance, and never prudence and honor. God, the primal source of all wisdom, does not demand that man, created in his image and likeness, allow himself to be deceived and hoodwinked, but wants us to use and let shine the light of reason with which He has so mercifully endowed us. He may be compared to the father who gave each of his sons a torch to light their way in the darkness bidding them keep its light bright and take care of it, and not put it out and trust to the light of the others, but to help and advise each other to fiind the right path. They would be madman were they to follow the light of another, only to come to a fall, and the father could unbraid them and say to them: "Did I not give each of you his own torch," but he cold not say so if the fall were due to the light of the torch of him who fell, as the light might have been dim and the road very bad.

The deceiver is fond of using the saying that "It is presumptuous to rely on one's own judgment," but, in my opinion, it is more presumptuous for a person to put his judgment above that of the others and try to make it prevail over theirs. It is more presumptuous for a man to constitute himself into an idol and pretend to be in communication of thought with God; and it is more than presumptuous and even blasphemous for a person to attribute every movement of his lips to God, to represent every whim of his as the will of God, and to brand his own enemy as an enemy of God. Of course, we should not consult our own judgment alone, but hear the opinion of others before doing what may seem most reasonable to us. The wild man from the hills, if clad in a priest's robe, remains a hillman and can only deceive the weak and ignorant. And, to make my argument more conclusive, just buy a priest's robe as the Franciscans wear it and put it on a carabao [domestic water buffalo], and you will be lucky if the carabao does not become lazy on account of the robe. But I will leave this subject to speak of something else.

Youth is a flower-bed that is to bear rich fruit and must accumulate wealth for its descendants. What offspring will be that of a woman whose kindness of character is expressed by mumbled prayers; who knows nothing by heart but awits [hymns], novenas, and the alleged miracles; whose amusement consists in playing panguingue [a card game] or in the frequent confession of the same sins? What sons will she have but acolytes, priest's servants, or cock fighters? It is the mothers who are responsible for the present servitude of our compatriots, owing to the unlimited trustfulness of their loving hearts, to their ardent desire to elevate their sons Maturity is the fruit of infancy and the infant is formed on the lap of its mother. The mother who can only teach her child how to kneel and kiss hands must not expect sons with blood other than that of vile slaves. A tree that grows in the mud is unsubstantial and good only for firewood. If her son should have a bold mind, his boldness will be deceitful and will be like the bat that cannot show itself until the ringing of vespers. They say that prudence is sanctity. But, what sanctity have they shown us? To pray and kneel a lot, kiss the hand of the priests, throw money away on churches, and believe all the friar sees fit to tell us; gossip, callous rubbing of noses. . . .

As to the mites and gifts of God, is there anything in the world that does not belong to God? What would you say of a servant making his master a present of a cloth borrowed from that very master? Who is so vain, so insane that he will give alms to God and believe that the miserable thing he has given will serve to clothe the Creator of all things? Blessed be they who succor their fellow men, aid the poor and feed the hungry; but cursed be they who turn a dead ear to supplications of the poor, who only give to him who has plenty and spend their money lavishly on silver altar hangings for the thanksgiving, or in serenades and fireworks. The money ground out of the poor is bequeathed to the master so that he can provide for chains to subjugate, and hire thugs and executioners. Oh, what blindness, what lack of understanding.

Saintliness consists in the first place in obeying the dictates of reason, happen what may. "It is acts and not words that I want of you," said Christ. "Not everyone that sayeth unto me, Lord, Lord shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven." Saintliness does not consist in abjectness, nor is the successor of Christ to be recognized by the fact that he gives his hand to be kissed. Christ did not give the kiss of peace to the Pharisees and never gave his hand to be kissed. He did not cater to the rich and vain; He did not mention scapularies, nor did He make rosaries, or solicit offerings for the sacrifice of the Mass or exact payments for His prayers. Saint John did not demand a fee on the River Jordan, nor did Christ teach for gain. Why, then, do the friars now refuse to stir a foot unless paid in advance? And, as if they were starving, they sell scapularies, rosaries, bits, and other things which are nothing but schemes for making money and a detriment to the soul; because even if all the rags on earth were converted into scapularies and all the trees in the forest into rosaries, and if the skins of all the beasts were made into belts, and if all the priests of the earth mumbled prayers over all this and sprinkled oceans of holy water over it, this would not purify a rogue or condone sin where there is no repentance. Thus, also, through cupidity and love of money, they will, for a price, revoke the numerous prohibitions such as those against eating meat, marrying close relatives, etc. You can do almost anything if you but grease their palms. Why that? Can God be bribed and bought off, and blinded by money, nothing more nor less than a friar? The brigand who has obtained a bull of compromise can live calmly on the proceeds of his robbery, because he will be forgiven. God, then, will sit at a table where theft provides the viands? Has the Omnipotent become a pauper that He must assume the role of the excise man or gendarme? If that is the God whom the friar adores, then I turn my back upon that God.

Let us be reasonable and open our eyes, especially you women, because you are the first to influence the consciousness of man. Remember that a good mother does not resemble the mother that the friar has created; she must bring up her child to be the image of the true God, not of a blackmailing, a grasping God, but of a God who is the father of us all, who is just; who does not suck the life-blood of the poor like a vampire, nor scoffs at the agony of the sorely beset, nor makes a crooked path of the path of justice. Awaken and prepare the will of our children towards all that is honorable, judged by proper standards, to all that is sincere and firm of purpose, clear judgment, clear procedure, honesty in act and deed, love for the fellowman and respect for God; this is what you must teach your children. And, seeing that life is full of thorns and thistles, you must fortify their minds against any stroke of adversity and accustom them to danger. The people cannot expect honor nor prosperity so long as they will educate their children in a wrong way, so long as the woman who guides the child in his steps is slavish and ignorant. No good water comes from a turbid, bitter spring; no savory fruit comes from acrid seed.

The duties that woman has to perform in order to deliver the people from suffering are of no little importance, but be they as they may, they will not be beyond the strength and stamina of the Filipino people. The power and good judgment of the women of the Philippines are well known, and it is because of this that she has been hoodwinked, and tied, and rendered pusillanimous, and now her enslavers rest at ease, because so long as they can keep the Filipina mother a slave, so long will they be able to make slaves of her children. The cause of the backwardness of Asia lies in the fact that there the women are ignorant, are slaves; while Europe and America are powerful because there the women are free and well-educated and endowed with lucid intellect and a strong will.

We know that you lack instructive books; we know that nothing is added to your intellect, day by day, save that which is intended to dim its natural brightness; all this we know, hence our desire to bring you the light that illuminates your equals here in Europe. If that which I tell you does not provoke your anger, and if you will pay a little attention to it then, however dense the mist may be that befogs our people, I will make the utmost efforts to have it dissipated by the bright rays of the sun, which will give light, thought they be dimmed. We shall not feel any fatigue if you help us: God, too, will help to scatter the mist, because He is the God of truth: He will restore to its pristine condition the fame of the Filipina in whom we now miss only a criterion of her own, because good qualities she has enough and to spare. This is our dream; this is the desire we cherish in our hearts; to restore the honor of woman, who is half of our heart, our companion in the joys and tribulations of life. If she is a maiden, the young man should love her not only because of her beauty and her amiable character, but also on account of her fortitude of mind and loftiness of purpose, which quicken and elevate the feeble and timid and ward off all vain thoughts. Let the maiden be the pride of her country and command respect, because it is a common practice on the part of Spaniards and friars here who have returned from the Islands to speak of the Filipina as complaisant and ignorant, as if all should be thrown into the same class because of the missteps of a few, and as if women of weak character did not exist in other lands. As to purity what could the Filipina not hold up to others!

Nevertheless, the returning Spaniards and friars, talkative and fond of gossip, can hardly find time enough to brag and bawl, amidst guffaws and insulting remarks, that a certain woman was thus; that she behaved thus at the convent and conducted herself thus with the Spaniards who on the occasion was her guest, and other things that set your teeth on edge when you think of them which, in the majority of cases, were faults due to candor, excessive kindness, meekness, or perhaps ignorance and were all the work of the defamer himself. There is a Spaniard now in high office, who has set at our table and enjoyed our hospitality in his wanderings through the Philippines and who, upon his return to Spain, rushed forthwith into print and related that on one occasion in Pampanga he demanded hospitality and ate, and slept at a house and the lady of the house conducted herself in such and such a manner with him; this is how he repaid the lady for her supreme hospitality! Similar insinuations are made by the friars to the chance visitor from Spain concerning their very obedient confesandas, hand-kissers, etc., accompanied by smiles and very significant winkings of the eye. In a book published by D. Sinibaldo de Mas and in other friar sketches sins are related of which women accused themselves in the confessional and of which the friars made no secret in talking to their Spanish visitors seasoning them, at the best, with idiotic and shameless tales not worthy of credence. I cannot repeat here the shameless stories that a friar told Mas and to which Mas attributed no value whatever. Every time we hear or read anything of this kind, we ask each other: Are the Spanish women all cut after the pattern of the Holy Virgin Mary and the Filipinas all reprobates? I believe that if we are to balance accounts in this delicate question, perhaps, . . . But I must drop the subject because I am neither a confessor nor a Spanish traveler and have no business to take away anybody's good name. I shall let this go and speak of the duties of women instead.

A people that respect women, like the Filipino people, must know the truth of the situation in order to be able to do what is expected of it. It seems an established fact that when a young student falls in love, he throws everything to the dogs -- knowledge, honor, and money, as if a girl could not do anything but sow misfortune. The bravest youth becomes a coward when he married, and the born coward becomes shameless, as if he had been waiting to get married in order to show his cowardice. The son, in order to hide his pusillanimity, remembers his mother, swallows his wrath, suffers his ears to be boxed, obeys the most foolish order, and and becomes an accomplice to his own dishonor. It should be remembered that where nobody flees there is no pursuer; when there is no little fish, there can not be a big one. Why does the girl not require of her lover a noble and honored name, a manly heart offering protection to her weakness, and a high spirit incapable of being satisfied with engendering slaves? Let her discard all fear, let her behave nobly and not deliver her youth to the weak and faint-hearted. When she is married, she must aid her husband, inspire him with courage, share his perils, refrain from causing him worry and sweeten his moments of affection, always remembering that there is no grief that a brave heart can not bear and there is no bitterer inheritance than that of infamy and slavery. Open your children's eyes so that they may jealously guard their honor, love their fellowmen and their native land, and do their duty. Always impress upon them they must prefer dying with honor to living in dishonor. The women of Sparta should serve you as an example should serve you as an example in this; I shall give some of their characteristics.

When a mother handed the shield to her son as he was marching to battle, she said nothing to him but this: "Return with it, or on it," which mean, come back victorious or dead, because it was customary with the routed warrior to throw away his shield, while the dead warrior was carried home on his shield. A mother received word that her son had been killed in battle and the army routed. She did not say a word, but expressed her thankfulness that her son had been saved from disgrace. However, when her son returned alive, the mother put on mourning. One of the mothers who went out to meet the warriors returning from battle was told by one that her three sons had fallen. I do not ask you that, said the mother, but whether we have been victorious or not. We have been victorious -- answered the warrior. If that is so, then let us thank God, and she went to the temple.

Once upon a time a king of theirs, who had been defeated, hid in the temple, because he feared their popular wrath. The Spartans resolved to shut him up there and starve him to death. When they were blocking the door, the mother was the first to bring stones. These things were in accordance with the custom there, and all Greece admired the Spartan woman. Of all women -- a woman said jestingly -- only your Spartans have power over the men. Quite natural -- they replied -- of all women only we give birth to men. Man, the Spartan women said, was not born to life for himself alone but for his native land. So long as this way of thinking prevailed and they had that kind of women in Sparta, no enemy was able to put his foot upon her soil, nor was there a woman in Sparta who ever saw a hostile army.

I do not expect to be believed simply because it is I who am saying this; there are many people who do not listen to reason, but will listen only to those who wear the cassock or have gray hair or no teeth; but while it is true that the aged should be venerated, because of their travails and experience, yet the life I have lived, consecrated to the happiness of the people, adds some years, though not many of my age. I do not pretend to be looked upon as an idol or fetish and to be believed and listened to with the eyes closed, the head bowed, and the arms crossed over the breast; what I ask of all is to reflect on what I tell him, think it over and shift it carefully through the sieve of reasons.

First of all. That the tyranny of some is possible only through cowardice and negligence on the part of others.

Second. What makes one contemptible is lack of dignity and abject fear of him who holds one in contempt.

Third. Ignorance is servitude, because as a man thinks, so he is; a man who does not think for himself and allowed himself to be guided by the thought of another is like the beast led by a halter.

Fourth. He who loves his independence must first aid his fellowman, because he who refuses protection to others will find himself without it; the isolated rib in the buri is easily broken, but not so the broom made of the ribs of the palm bound together.

Fifth. If the Filipina will not change her mode of being, let her rear no more children, let her merely give birth to them. She must cease to be the mistress of the home, otherwise she will unconsciously betray husband, child, native land, and all.

Sixth. All men are born equal, naked, without bonds. God did not create man to be a slave; nor did he endow him with intelligence to have him hoodwinked, or adorn him with reason to have him deceived by others. It is not fatuous to refuse to worship one's equal, to cultivate one's intellect, and to make use of reason in all things. Fatuous is he who makes a god of him, who makes brutes of others, and who strives to submit to his whims all that is reasonable and just.

Seventh. Consider well what kind of religion they are teaching you. See whether it is the will of God or according to the teachings of Christ that the poor be succored and those who suffer alleviated. Consider what they preaching to you, the object of the sermon, what is behind the masses, novenas, rosaries, scapularies, images, miracles, candles, belts, etc. etc; which they daily keep before your minds; ears and eyes; jostling, shouting, and coaxing; investigate whence they came and whiter they go and then compare that religion with the pure religion of Christ and see whether the pretended observance of the life of Christ does not remind you of the fat milch cow or the fattened pig, which is encouraged to grow fat nor through love of the animal, but for grossly mercenary motives.

Let us, therefore, reflect; let us consider our situation and see how we stand. May these poorly written lines aid you in your good purpose and help you to pursue the plan you have initiated. "May your profit be greater than the capital invested;" and I shall gladly accept the usual reward of all who dare tell your people the truth. May your desire to educate yourself be crowned with success; may you in the garden of learning gather not bitter, but choice fruit, looking well before you eat because on the surface of the globe all is deceit, and the enemy sows weeds in your seedling plot.

All this is the ardent desire of your compatriot.

JOSÉ RIZAL

***

Ang mga larawan ay kuha sa pelikulang Dahling Nick.

Ang buong kopya ng To the Young Women of Malolos ay nakuha sa https://kwentongebabuhayrizal.blogspot.com/

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beybladeimagines · 5 years

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hey bby i was wondering what mythical creatures you think the blade breakers and blitzkrieg boys would be? thanks!

Mod Note: WOW OKAY I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

TYSON: Honey, I already envision Tyson being able to transform into a dragon, but also maintains some dragon-esque features. I see him with these beautiful piercing blue eyes that only seem to intensify in brightness as he treads the physical line between human-body and dragon form. Whenever he gets excited, they glow and he just emits this brilliant gust of energy around him. Depending on how close he is to transforming, I imagine the whites around his eyes turning black or a light grey. When he transforms, his dragon form is huge. I don’t picture him with wings, but rather he has a serpentine form that seems to mimic the current / winds. He doesn’t breathe fire, but he can emit a mighty hurricane from exhalation alone. He often chases storm clouds and loves flying through the rain. If anything, the chaos in the skies energizes him. He prefers to exist among humans, so he seldom transforms unless he misses being one with the winds again.

MAX: You already know what I’m gonna say. Max is the most majestic merman you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. He has piercing teal eyes, one’s that sailors can see through the densest of fogs. He’s super playful and has the amazing ability of befriending any aquatic animal within his vicinity. He’s even able to talk the most aggressive animals out of attacking someone and thus has saved quite a few folks in the water. Max typically admires humanity from afar, but although he fears getting caught, many are inherently drawn to him. I envision Max like a siren. His voice is captivating and can inspire just about anyone to dive into the water after him. It’s not even just his singing that people are enamored by, but also the mesmerizing and sickeningly sweet way he speaks. Max has an excellent way of disarming people and because of that, he’s managed to remain an enigma beneath the waters for so long.

RAY: Not exactly a mythical creature per say, but I do imagine Ray being a shape shifter. I can see him altering his form, specifically to that of a cat’s, just so he can better evaluate the company of those around him. If a person is able to treat him well in his animal form, then they’re worthy of some time with his human form. It’s not that Ray has trust issues, but he is rather picky when it comes to deciding who he wants to exert his energy on. He prefers not to get too close, because he has silently convinced himself that anyone (at the blink of an eye) could betray him or take advantage of his abilities. Additionally, he prefers his space and wants to roam the world without anything or anyone holding him back. He constantly changes faces just to avoid having people from his past find him again. The one consistent trait about Ray is his eye color. Regardless of what he transforms into, Ray’s creations retain that bright gold color, and that always ends up exposing him when he simply wants to hide.

KAI: A fallen angel. Kai, by no means, is a demon (nor a gremlin, despite what we all want to believe). Rather, Kai has lost his path many moons ago. Originally, he was called to be a benevolent agent and yet, he became consumed by sins like greed. He never wanted money or love; rather, he craved some form of recognition and he desired to simply be the best. He couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as an equal, so he allowed the feathers to fall from his wings as he descended onto earth. Every time he finds himself drifting further and further from the light, a feather of his falls off, thus making him unable to fly again. Humans cannot see the wings he drags behind him as he walks, but they have become such a massive weight and burden on his body. On Earth, he looks like any other human man, but he retains his supernatural abilities. He can make himself unseen, he can hear the thoughts of others, and he can see someone’s fate. He seldom shares this information with others, because he sees everyone around him as too weak and he’d rather use his abilities against an opponent he deems worthy.

TALA: Okay, so this might be cheating, but I see Tala as a shape-shifting fallen angel. LISTEN. The reason Tala descended was because of how quickly he clung to wrath. He was exposed to many betrayals that ended up stripping him of his initial holiness. His punishment was to wander the earth for eternity, never being able to find sanctuary or solace from heaven or hell. While many of his abilities lay dormant, he has expressed fondness for wolves. None have ever attacked him when he was on his own and some have even accepted him into their pack. Tala was inspired to take on the form of a mighty white wolf, one that hunters only seem to see during blizzards. He brings a wicked storm with him when he moves. The intensity of the elements ultimately reflects his internal calamities, which he shamelessly imposes on those around him. Hunters have never been able to capture him, many of them have stopped trying, but he’s still out there...roaming the harsh terrain just to get some kind of peace.

BRYAN: I want to say a goblin so bad, but this dude is a straight up incubus / demon. Bryan was molded out of sin, straight from the bowels of hell. He was made to be a great taker - someone that played on the desires of humans and used that desire against them. Keep in mind that incubi do not always rely on lust to acquire someone’s attention and soul. They have a tendency to offer many material and physical pleasures in order to have someone right where they want them. Bryan is the king of false promises and bad deals. He makes his offers sound so legit that it’s hard for anyone to turn him down. However, the moment someone agrees to indulge him is the moment they lose their soul. Bryan loves to take many things from humans - whether it’s a soul, their safety, their sanity, their ability to speak, etc. He loves seeing the pure trust and lust in someone’s eyes just vanish the longer he’s in their presence. He will sit on his victims chest and just watch the very life leave their pretty eyes.

SPENCER: He is absolutely a werewolf, one that has three different transformations. Specifically, I imagine him having a human form, a wolf form, and that in-between form where he’s able to stand and speak like a human but maintain the physical features of a wolf. Spencer became gifted with this curse by a mysterious (coughs) white wolf he came across in the Russian forests. Just when he thought he was going to be attacked and left for dead, the wolf simply bit him and allowed him to experience a surge of power that Spencer had never experienced before. Initially, Spencer experienced an unbearable agony across his entire body, as his bones practically broke and reformed every time he transformed. In time, he learned to master that power and has had to train himself to minimize the animalistic urges he sometimes has when it comes to needing to hunt. Spencer still lives among humans, but he has dedicated himself to seeking out that white wolf again. Sometimes he swears he can still see him, but when he blinks nothing is there.

#beyblade #beyblade imagine #bladebreakers #blitzkrieg boys #tyson granger #takao kinomiya #max tate #max mizuhara #ray kon #rei kon #kai hiwatari #yuriy ivanov #tala ivanov #bryan kuznetsov #boris kuznetsov #spencer petrov #sergei petrov #headcanon #Anonymous

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artificialdemon · 5 years

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Kiran’s Tarot Manipulation Powers

Fool

Luck

Automatic and continuous supply of good luck, be free to do as they please without consequences, and be untouched and ineffective to the laws of causality.

Madness Manipulation

Absorb, create, control, and manipulate madness/insanity of themselves, others, or madness energy around; whether increasing, decreasing, causing or chancing insanity, even manifesting the emotional energy to physical level and gain power from it.

Power Randomization

Gain/Switch powers at random either switching one power with another or accumulating multiple powers over time.

Power Reflection

Reflects any power that is launched without being harmed. Serves as self-defense and counter-attack.

Trickster

Manipulator of cruel ploys, chameleonic nature, and sadistic choices.

Magician

Boundary Manipulation

Shape, create, and manipulate boundaries- physical, material, spiritual, existential, pataphysical, conceptual, metaphysical, etc.

Elemental Manipulation

Create, shape, and manipulate the basic elements of nature.

Intuitive Aptitude

Instantly learn the complexity and exactness of organisms, objects, ect. Without the need of long-term or special education.

Summoning

Call upon powerful beings, often requires strong connections to where these entities reside.

Teleportation

Transfer matter or energy from one point to another without traversing the physical space between them.

Priestess

Aura Reading

Perceive and read auras, normally invisible fields of energy that surround every living thing; sees the targets emotions, health status, power level, or moral alignment.

Divination

Method of reading the future, present, and the past and/or provide help to a problem at hand by using a ritual

Flawless Restoration

Undo all damages done onto target (living or object), whether mental, conceptual, emotional, spiritual, mystical and physical damage. Even restore and repair abilities, as well as resurrecting the recently deceased.

Mysticism

Creating, manipulating, and/or mimicking objects, spirits, and powers.

Empress

Fertility Inducement

Natural desire and capability of growth and reproduction, including restoring fertility to infertile/sterile area/beings.

Healing Kiss

Hea Physical and mental damage with a kiss.

Life Mastery

Create any form of life, and control them to do their bidding, when the creatures are no longer useful, can annihilate them instantly. Can also revive extinct creatures, give life to fictional ones, and potentially create whole armies.

Sexual Inducement

Induce sexual arousal in others to make them lustful and crave sexual interaction.

Subconscious Manipulation

Manipulates everything hidden inside their and others subconscious, including ideas, wishes or desires, traumatic memories, painful emotions. Manipulates hidden aspects of the mind and give shape to emotions or thoughts hidden inside them.

Emperor

Absolue Command

Impose irresistible commands upon any kind of existence, natural and supernatural, living and non-living.

Hierophant

Belief Inducement

Force others to believe whatever.

Knowledge Manipulation

Create, shape, and manipulate any/all information/knowledge, they can insert new knowledge into the universe that becomes establised fact and reality, or destroy it to do the opposite.

Uplifting

Grant gifts such as knowledge, powers, or teach them things that can give them a greater purpose in life.

Lovers

Love Manipulation

Can sense and manipulate all aspects of love, of themselves, people, animals and other creatures whether by increasing, decreasing, causing other otherwise channeling love, even manifesting the emotional energy to physical level.

Yin/Yang Manipulation

Natural dualities of polar opposites or seemingly contrary forces that are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world and how they give rise to each other in turn in relation to each other.

Chariot

Enhanced Combat

Unbelievably skilled in most known forms of fighting. They can be exceptionally proficient in the fighting traditions of a variety of cultures and become advanced with their own individual methods of close quarter combat, including martial arts (from all over the world), boxing, and wrestling. They can also become superhumanly skilled in their use of weaponry.

Riders Aptitude

Possess great knowledge and skill in the art of riding, such as riding a horse without any education, instantly understand the behaviors of animals no matter how simple or complex, magical or scientific it is and even tame an animal to become the users ride ranged from wild animals, cryptics, demonic and even sacred beasts.

Justice

Logic Manipulation

Shape reality, metaphysics and causation with but a thought, and ignore all rules like they didn't exist at all.

Order Inducement

Inducing an order, a condition in which each thing is properly disposed with reference to other things and to its purpose; methodical or harmonious arrangement. Conformity or obedience to law or established authority; absence of disturbance, riot, revolt, unruliness.

Strength Manipulation

Manipulate the strength of oneself or others, turning a weakling into a very strong person and vice versa, or remove the strength of others or bestowal strength onto any other person.

Temperance Embodiment

Able to refrain and to master self-control, convert their temperate works and actions into a sort of energy to become a weapon or an attacking offense and also making it become a support to others as well as defense from any opposing powers of this embodiment.

Hermit

Cosmic Awareness

Aware of anything that affects them on a universal scale including threats, anything that would affect them in any way, or even somebody talking about them.

Reality Perception

Perceive reality, allowing to sense and comprehend the whole truth, facts and mechanics behind anything no matter how it is hidden or how complex it is. They will automatically know if they are being lied to and sense the truth.

Silence Manipulation

Create, shape and manipulate silence, absence of noise/sound.

Fortune

Change Embodiment

Wield limitless power, as they can achieve or prevent any change at will. They notably possess the most perfect defense, as they naturally shrug off any undesirable change.

Probability Manipulation

Manipulates the probability of an event to happen, making unlikely things occur more often or instantly and preventing liable events from happening. They can cause and prevent both good and bad luck, sudden deaths, natural disasters, and even apocalyptic events.

Sphinx Physiology

Takes form of a Sphynx. Those who cannot answer her riddle suffer a fate typical in such mythological stories, as they are killed and eaten by this ravenous monster.

Strength

Indomitable Will

Unnaturally strong willpower, enabling them to be immune to all forms of temptation including Subordination Manipulation, Telepathy, Mind Control, and Subliminal Seduction. Through their will, the user can face great physical pain and psychological trauma and will refuse to surrender no matter how much the odds are stacked against them, possibly up to the point of cheating death and pushing themselves past their own limitations.

Psychic Shield

Highly resistant to any/all mental intrusion, including psychic or empathic powers, Hypnosis, Mental Hallucination, deception, etc. Mind readers only “hear” static, while mind controllers are incapable of manipulating those shielded.

Tranquil State

Remain calm in virtually any situation, allowing them to think with perfect clarity even when under extreme emotional or physical distress. Users can endure mental stress and can be essentially immune to emotional manipulation and highly resistant to torture.

Hanged Man

Compassion Inducement

Cause compassion in others, making them irresistibly compassion of others, growing into sweetness and possibly even friendship.

Enchantment

Ability to put something/someone under a spell. They have the power to manipulate certain means of magic to accomplish their goals. Universally, the definition of an 'enchanter' varies. Some enchanters have extraordinary beauty and are capable of enrapturing others in a vulnerable state. Other enchanters are endowed with the ability to charm objects through the use of spoken words or other occult items such as wands or certain talismans.

Pain Manipulation

Sense and manipulate mental, emotional, and physical agony, pain and suffering, whether increasing, decreasing, causing or otherwise changing pain, even manifesting the emotional energy to a physical level.

Punishment

Physically, mentally, or spiritually punish any being for breaking the rules or the law. The user can either banish, kill, or torment the victims with various forms of powers. When the law or rules are broken, the users power of punishment can be absolute and unrelenting.

Treachery

Only loyal to themselves or have other reasons to use this power to get around and infiltrate enemy lines so they can destroy them from the inside. The user may also manipulate others into fighting each other for the sake of accomplishing their own goals. Then at the proper opportunity the user can eliminate any loose ends.

Wood Manipulation

Create, shape and manipulate wood/woody plants, including trees, shrubs and lianas. They can cause wood to grow, move/attack or even rise from the soil and "walk", mutate wood by rearranging DNA structure, revive withered or dead wood or manipulate the dead wood as well as living.

Death

Bone Manipulation

Complete control over the bones of oneself and others, bare skeletons or separate bones, including growing, shaping, manipulating density/weight, creating constructs, etc.

Scythe Proficiency

Wield a scythe with tremendous dexterity and skill, accurately and precisely slicing through the enemies without being hindered by the scythe's heavy weight.

Grim Reaper

Guiding the dead to the next world to actively causing the death, possibly somewhat both.

Temperance

Biological Manipulation

Manipulate life on a cellular level, including but not limited to, genetic alterations and physical distortion and/or augmentations of biological functions. They can cause cells to augment to induce advanced or declined biological healing, induce diseases like cancer, induce appearance alteration, manipulate pheromones, and even increase physiological maturity.

Gender Transcendence

Transcending existing genders and surpassing normal comprehension, having the characteristics of female, male and/or genders that do not even exist.

Liquid Manipulation

Create, shape and manipulate anything that is liquid, the only state of matter with a definite volume but no fixed shape. A liquid is made up of tiny vibrating particles of matter, such as atoms and molecules, held together by intermolecular bonds.

Devil

Chimerism

Fuse genetically with other species, some users are able to shift between several or any species they want. Exact effects vary by individual and the species they fuse with.

Dark Arts

Focus toward destruction, harming, cursing and otherwise complicating the lives of other people while advancing the user's own state

Mental Manipulation

Manipulate, modify and control the thoughts, mindsets, and upper brain functions, allowing the ability to render others unconscious, suppress their memories, and negate the use of abilities, increase/decrease mental capacity, modify minds to be agreeable, control minds, sway sensations to induce altered perception, bestow/heal mental disorders, create/penetrate mental barriers, etc.

Tower

Calamity Embodiment

The concept of the damaging disastrous event. The user can even cause damage on a cataclysmic level which may be considered an act of misfortune.

Chaos Empowerment

Become stronger, faster, more durable, etc. by/from chaos, possibly unlocking abilities related to the affinity and enhancing the existing powers. Some users may be able to draw sustenance from the chaos or even slow or stop aging.

Realm Closure

Close off a realm/reality and prevent them from interfering with another world or preventing other realities interfere with it.

Star

Astrology

Draw ethereal power from their areas along with specific abilities such as Heliokinesis, and Menekinesis. This power can almost be seen as a type of Astrological Empowerment. With Mysticism, Alchemy, and Astrology practiced, the user will have All Three Parts of Universal Wisdom.

Equilibrium Manipulation

Manipulate equilibrium/balance of themselves, others or objects, gaining great balance in any position possible. They can control mental balance, allowing to sway a person's opinion, and can manipulate chemical balance as well.

Peace Inducement

Sense the rage, aggression and distress in others and is able to induce peace and calm in them, deflecting the rage away. The user has the ability to spread their peaceful influence over a wide range of individuals depending on their mastery of the power.

Stellar Manipulation

Shape and manipulate all aspects of stars, self-luminous celestial bodies consisting of a mass of super-heated gas held together by their own gravity in which the energy generated by nuclear reactions in the interior is balanced by the outflow of energy to the surface, and the inward-directed gravitational forces are balanced by the outward-directed gas and radiation pressures.

Moon

Dream Manipulation

Create, shape, enter and manipulate the dreams of oneself and others, including modifying, suppressing, fabricating, influencing, manifesting, sensing, and observing dreams as well as nightmares, daydreams, etc., possibly including past ones. They can produce and modify dreams, bestow nightmares or lucid dreaming, entrap people in REM, and promote spiritual/emotional healing within dreams.

Insanity Inducement

Cause madness in a person or group of people that have no mental illness, depending of the users will victims may go slightly loopy or lose total grip of reality becoming delusional, lose control over themselves, paranoid, catatonic or hostile.

Lunar Empowerment

Becomes stronger, faster, more durable, etc. when they come into contact with a moon, moonlight, or lunar energy/substance, possibly unlocking abilities related to the affinity and enhancing their existing powers. Some users may be able to draw sustenance from the moon or even slow or stop aging.

Sun

Happiness Inducement

Induce a state of joyful, cheerful delight-fullness in a target and if hostile, user can make them into their best friend and at a high level, user may gain Love Inducement.

Precognition

Foresee possible futures and observe what may happen. As knowledge of the future invariably causes that future to change, visions of the future are subject to frequent shifting. While not being able to select futures or travel through time, these visions may assist in possible courses of action.

Solar Empowerment

Stronger, faster, more durable, etc. when they come into contact with sunlight, possibly unlocking abilities related to the affinity and enhancing the existing powers. Some users may be able to draw sustenance from the sun or even slow or stop aging

Judgement

Binding

To bind, imprison, paralyze and/or otherwise stop targets moving normally and possibly completely freezing them where they were. It can be achieved using various means including energy-based or physical restraints or mental effects

Judgement Manipulation

Make judgements on anyone/anything and decide what will happen to the target. They can make any kind of judgement, like judging whether or not a love is allowed, or judging and deciding whether a person lives or dies and what kind of afterlife they are allowed into, or judging whether or not you can keep/use any/all powers, etc. The user can judge, and decide or deny anything. Once a target has been judged, they are automatically affected by the power.

Purification

Remove the darkness or evil from a person or objects, often including demons possessing it or mind control affecting it. It can turn evil to good or merely make someone pure.

World

Life-Force Manipulation

Create, shape and manipulate life-force, the fundamental force that allows life to appear/exist, grow and flourish throughout the universe. They can control their own personal life-force that dwells within them, allowing them to achieve untold power and great abilities considered to be beyond that of normal beings. Users use physical, spiritual, and mental powers to control their life force.

Life-Force Tansferal

Transfer life-force from one being to the next, a method could be to absorb the life-force, then implant it into the targeted being, healing them and even resurrecting them. This may require physical contact, or just being in the same area, just thinking of transferring the life-force. However, this may kill the one the user took it from.

Nature Unity

Become one with nature/natural forces, their soul/spirit sensing a great deal of peace and content. Animals will be less aggressive or even lose their aggressiveness against the user altogether. The user can sense and feel the living creatures and possibly their emotions from the entire world. They will also empathize with plants as well, knowing when to water them and when to plant them. They can also make plants grow/regrow/regenerate when damaged.

Planetary Empowerment

Tap into the energies provided by a planet, either to empower themselves or to increase their power. Most common manifestation of this power boosts the physical abilities and vitality of the user, but many users gain abilities/powers related to what the planet they tap is associated with. Some are able to tap the planetary energies to super-charge their attacks.

#Dmc oc #tarot deck #original character

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demonspectacles · 5 years

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PSYCHOLOGICAL ARCHETYPE

GLASSES

The Orphan

Orphans are independent, self-reliant and are mistrustful of authority. Orphans, fearing exploitation, seek to regain the comfort of the womb and neonatal safety in the arms of loving parents. To fulfill their quest they must go through the agonies of the developmental stages they have missed. Their strength is the interdependence and pragmatic realism that they had to learn at an early age.

Shadow Side: The victim. This will manifest itself in your feelings of being victimized by others, and consequently blaming your incompetence, irresponsibility, or even predatory behavior on other people. You might also expect special treatment and exemption from life because you feel so fragile. When your Shadow Orphan takes control it can attack those who are trying to help you, harming these people and yourself simultaneously.

Life Goal: Regain safety Fear: Exploitation Response to Problem: Being victimized by it Life Task: Process and feel pain fully Personal Gifts: Independence, realism, resilience, empathy Personal Pitfalls: Cynicism, tendency to be the victim or victimized, chronic complaining

//Other muses who align with Orphan: Emalf, Shinow, Shikabone, Met, Alibe

KIKI

The Caregiver

The Caregiver is an altruist, moved by compassion, generosity and selflessness to help others. Although prone to martyrdom and enabling behaviors, the inner Caregiver helps us raise our children, aid those in need, and build structures to sustain life and health. Caregivers first seek to help others, which they do with compassion and generosity. A risk the Caregiver takes in their pursuit to help others is their tendency to harm themselves. They dislike selfishness, especially in themselves, and fear what it might make them do.

Shadow Side: The martyr. This will manifest itself in your desire to control others by making them feel guilty, e.g. “Look at all I sacrificed for you!” The martyr evidences itself in all manipulative or devouring behaviors, in which you use care-taking to control or smother others. It is also found in co-dependence; a compulsive need to take care of, or rescue others.

Life Goal: Help others through sacrifice Fear: Selfishness, ingratitude Response to Problem: Take care of those it harms Life Task: Give without maiming self or others Personal Gifts: Compassion, generosity, nurturing, community Personal Pitfalls: Martyrdom, enabling others, co-dependence, guilt-tripping

//Other muses who align with Caregiver: Daimonji, Yahata, Silone, Kurimu, Hibuki, Crea

MORS

The Destroyer (or Rebel)

The Destroyer embodies repressed rage about structures that no longer serve life even when these structures are still supported by society or by our conscious choices. Although this archetype can be ruthless, it weeds the garden in ways that allow for new growth. The Destroyer is a paradoxical character whose destructiveness reflects the instinctual death drive and the inner fear of annihilation. As a fighter, the Destroyer tends to be careless of their own safety, and can sometimes put others in unnecessary danger as well. Their quest is to use their passion in a balanced way that will sustain them.

Shadow Side: The self-destructor. This will manifest itself in your life as the tendency to be prone to addictions, compulsions, or activities that undermine intimacy, job success, or self-esteem. The shadow side of the Destroyer tends to motivate a lot of emotional and physical abuse (domestic violence, murder, rape, suicide, etc.) when completely out of control.

Life Goal: Metamorphosis Fear: Death, annihilation Response to Problem: Destroy it, be destroyed by it Life Task: Letting go, acceptance of mortality Personal Gifts: Humility, metamorphosis, revolution, capacity to let go Personal Pitfalls: Doing harm to self/others, out of control anger, terrorist tactics

//Other muses who align with Destroyer: Satanick

VICTOR FLANKENSTEIN

The Seeker (or Explorer)

The Seeker leaves the known to discover and explore the unknown. This inner-rugged individual braves loneliness and isolation to seek out new paths. Often oppositional, this iconoclastic archetype helps us discover our uniqueness, our perspectives and our callings. Seekers are looking for something that will improve their life in some way, but in doing so they may not realize that they have a lot already inside of themselves. They embrace learning and are ambitious, and often tend to avoid the encumbrance of support from others. Needing to "do it themselves," they keep moving until they find their goal (and usually their true self too).

Shadow Side: The perfectionist. This will manifest itself in your life as the tendency to always strive to measure up to an impossible goal or to find the “right” solution. We see this shadow element in people whose main life activity is self-improvement: going from health club to health club, traveling the world, bouncing back and forth through self-improvement seminars and workshops, etc. If this sounds like you, you might wind up feeling as though you haven't really accomplished anything through a lack of commitment.

Life Goal: Search for a better way (better life) Fear: Conformity, entrapment Response to Problem: Leave it, escape it, take off Life Task: Be true to a Higher Self Personal Gifts: Autonomy, ambition, identity, expanded possibilities Personal Pitfalls: Inability to commit, chronic disappointment, alienation and loneliness

// Other muses who align with Seeker: Doloz

MAFUYU

The Creator

The Creator archetype fosters all imaginative endeavors, from the highest art to the smallest innovation in lifestyle or work. Being adverse to inactivity, the Creator can sometimes cause overload in our lives with constant new projects that are never quite fulfilled. However, when properly channeled, the Creator archetype can help us to express ourselves in beautiful ways. Creators, fearing that all is an illusion, seek to prove reality outside of their minds. A critical part of their quest is to find and accept themselves, discovering their true identity in relation to the external world.

Shadow Side: Avoidance. This will manifest itself in your life by the tendency to fill your inner feelings of emptiness with many different inessential projects, challenges and new things to do. One variety of this habit is workaholism, in which you are constantly pushing yourself to create, produce and to do more.

Life Goal: Creation of new life (identity) Fear: Abomination, failure (inauthenticity) Response to Problem: Embrace it as part of the Self Life Task: Self-creation, self-acceptance Personal Gifts: Creativity, vision, individuality, aesthetics, imagination, skill, vocation Personal Pitfalls: Self-indulgence, creating messes, prima donna behaviors

Tagged by: @convivxncia Tagging: Anyone, GO HAM!

#tag games #dash games #i normally dont do the kids but figured why not

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sasorikigai · 5 years

Note

1, 10, 13 (for Scorpion and Sub-Zero)

questions for the mun, regarding the muse. || @ustrinamor || accepting

1. What makes you the most emotional about your muse?

Scorpion; his whole redemption arc and character development. I’m only familiar with the new storyline, but comparing MK9 to MK11, it’s a profound leap of a difference - for he has chosen to step closer to his darkness, to his broken soul, but his acceptance and growth has smothered not all, but most of his darkness as it smothered with his resilient flame dancing with his flickering tongue of fire. And his lost family has ignited him into an eternal light, instead of turning into a scalding soot of conflaglatory hellfire.

Sub-Zero; the fact that he has gone through heaven and hell in such short amount of time and even through all the trials and tribulations, he survives with such goodness and responsibility in his heart. Being the proper Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei could be burdensome, highly stressful and worrisome endeavor, but Kuai Liang does it with utmost dedication and hardened will, never subjugating beneath the forces of evil - except when he was unwillingly turned into Cyber Sub-Zero - no matter what the occasion. And his defiance and absolute resilience is something very laudable to me.

10. What do you love about your muse?

Scorpion; Hanzo Hasashi is just such a beautiful man (both physical and mental; even when I don’t condone his volatility and impulsiveness, I have utter respect of his resiliency, unwillingness to never give up and defiantly challenge the greater power, because it is unjust and immoral) all in all. I’m highly drawn to his physical features, including his long lashes, caramel, sun-roughened skin, long shiny raven hair and high cheekbones. And through his stoicism, he speaks so much of his misery and tragedy; his emotions dwelling like strokes of flames and raging winds. And how he embodies danger with a soul of a fearless. I have a huge weakness for a dangerous man who is very stoic in public, but he has this firm gentility that speaks me of masculinity. A part of masculinity that I respect, not resent.

Sub-Zero; Even when his heart is bleeding, Kuai Liang always seems to find equilibrium, not going over the precipice of completely losing control and breaking himself towards the inevitable. I can feel his indescribable pain through his eyes; how his eyes speak so much, even when he isn’t particularly vocal about his grief and agony. I couldn’t simply live with such complex amalgamation and dichotomy of resentment, hatred, animosity, grief, regret, etc. plaguing my emotion without completely breaking, but he always welcomes the unknown of life with welcome arms and that’s something I absolutely love and respect Sub-Zero.

13. What about your muse makes you sad?

Scorpion; Sub-Zero’s dialogue in MKX will solidify what I think of him and the entirety of his storyline; “Had I known of my clan’s complicity in the Shirai Ryu’s extinction, our history would be different.” And the fact that he endured and never relinquished himself beneath the innumerable plagues, wildfires and hurricanes and still finding enough strength to stand tall in his sundered world. While the world of glee isn’t yet his own to partake, Hanzo Hasashi still yearns to fill the missing symphony with absent, pulverized feelings; of being loved and caressed, as he’d once again cherish the fortunate endeavor of being mesmerized in the passion without all the soldered hardness and stoicism. And I fear that he won’t ever experience the feeling of completely letting go, as he’d find another Harumi and Satoshi - while never forgetting their permeating existence.

Sub-Zero; his complicated relationship with his elder brother, who he used to admire and love him dearly, and wished to follow in his footsteps as a member of the Lin Kuei. But he had resented him as well, at times hated him and wanted nothing more than to be free of his shadow, of his influence. The day Bi-han became Grandmaster, was the day he ceased to be his brother. He could no longer care for Kuai Liang as family, but only as a member of the Lin Kuei; and he had to do what he believed was best for the clan at all times, he could not spare anyone’s feelings, or play favorites. And then his brother was killed. He had sought revenge and in that process, he gradually lost pretty much everything. But Kuai Liang grew, evolved and learned. He reclaimed his clan, and brought it back from ruin and disgrace. He made peace with the Shirai Ryu, and the man who killed his brother. And gained a new irreplaceable brother. One who helped him avenge the kidnapping and slaughter of his clan, and fought alongside him as an equal. Then he lost him as well. If that isn’t the most epic saga of Kuai Liang’s bitter sorrows, I don’t know what it is.

#(answered)#✗ behavior exhibition (answered asks)#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon)#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ bone-deep chill of despair (sub-zero)#✗ again and always (scorpion x sub-zero)#(thank you so much for these!)#(I had fun writing these out)#ustrinamor

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Nurses Against Circumcision

Childbirth is miraculous, beautiful, traumatic, and overwhelming, all at the same time, for both the baby and the mother. But for many children born today, squeezing through the birth canal is the easy part. Soon after birth, males born to North American women routinely face amputation of a fully functioning, healthy organ – the foreskin.

Circumcision is so commonplace in North America, it has long been considered the norm. The World Health Organization estimates the male circumcision rate in the U.S. to be 76% to 92%, while the rates in most of the Western European countries are less than 20%. Globally, more than 80% of the world’s men are left intact. An intact penis is not rare – an intact penis is the norm.

Medical professionals tell parents that circumcision is relatively painless, just a snip and it is over. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aside from the rare but possible complications, which include mutilation of the penis or death, the practice of circumcision is painful and traumatic.

The following nurses have come forward to share their knowledge and experience, to tell the truth about this practice.

Related: Circumcision Linked to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome

Nicole, A Former Nursing Student

A few years ago, I began an OB/GYN hospital clinical as a student nurse. One day, I was enlisted to attend a ‘routine circumcision.

… I did not anticipate the lurching sensation that gripped my heart as I looked upon that baby. He was laying strapped down to a table, so small and new – pure and innocent – trusting – all alone – no defenses.

I walked toward the baby and wanted to take him off the table and shelter him – to tell him that it would be okay, that nobody would hurt him on my watch.

Then in walked the doctor. Loud. Obnoxious. Joking with his assistant. As if he was about to perform a 10-minute oil change.

Not once did he talk to this little baby. I am not sure he even looked at him – really looked at him.

Rather, he reached for his cold metal instruments and then reached out for his object of mutilation: this sweet newborn’s perfect, unharmed, intact penis.

I recall this little baby boy’s screams of pain and terror – his small lungs barely able to keep up with his cries and gasps for breath.

I turned in horror as I saw the doctor forcefully rip and pull the baby’s foreskin up and around a metal object.

Then out came the knife. Cut. Cut. Cut. Screaming. Blood.

I stood next to the baby and said, “You’re almost done sweetie. Almost done. There, done.”

Then came the words from the doctor, as that son-of-a-b***h dangled this little baby’s foreskin in midair and playfully asked, “Anybody care to go fishing?”

My tongue lodged in my throat.

I felt like I was about to vomit.

I restrained myself. It was now my duty to take the infant back to the nursery for “observation.”

… Back in the newborn nursery, rather than observing, I cradled the infant. I held him and whispered comforting words as if he were my own. I’ll never forget those new little eyes watch me amid his haze. He knew I cared about him. He knew he was safe in my arms. He knew that I was going to take him to his mommy. But, deep in his little heart, at some level, I know he wondered where his mommy was. While he lay there mutilated in a level of agony that we cannot imagine, in what was supposed to be a safe and welcoming environment after his birth, where was his mommy?

Related: Religious Reasons Not To Circumcise

Betty, RN

We are saying what is happening, because the male myth is, “Well, I was circumcised and I am fine, and my son was circumcised and he’s fine.”

But we’re saying, “Maybe you were circumcised, but it wasn’t fine, because we were there, and we saw what happened. It’s the same thing with your baby. We were there, and we saw it. It was not fine.”

… That is the next step, for the grown men to come forward. It’s happening now. There is a powerful coalition forming. We women are coming out as mothers and as witnesses to this brutal sexual assault. Women who have been circumcised in Africa are coming forward, too. We’re all saying this isn’t okay.

Mary, RN

We just wanted people to stop hurting babies. In 1992, we started a petition. Before that, I think we all had the sense that something was wrong, but we had never communicated about it. Everything I’d read said circumcision isn’t a necessary thing to do, from a medical or health standpoint. So why are we doing it? You take a newborn baby, strap him down to a board, and cut on him. It’s obviously painful!

Circumcision became so intolerable that five of us wrote a letter saying that ethically we could no longer assist. When we were getting ready to present the letter, other nurses came out of the woodwork and asked to sign it. Out of about 50 nurses, 24 signed it.

Now we’re conscientious objectors, but it’s still going on. We can still hear it.

… Behind closed doors, you can hear the baby screaming. You know exactly what part of the operation is happening by how the screams are.

Mary-Rose, RN

My dreams were about taking the babies and strapping them down, participating in the whole thing, and having the babies say to me, “Why are you doing this? You were just welcoming me, and now you’re torturing me. Why, why, why?”

I’ve watched doctors taking more foreskin than they should. When there’s too much bleeding, they burn the wound with silver nitrate so that the penis looks like it’s been burned with a cigarette. Then the doctor will tell us to go tell the mother that this is what it’s supposed to look like.

Related: Celebrities Against Circumcision

Chris, RN

I worked with countless intact men, mostly European immigrants in Chicago: Poles, Serbs, Lithuanians, etc. Younger men and older men. Men who could walk to the bathroom and men who constantly soiled themselves. Men who had indwelling Foley catheters and men who didn’t. Men who were impeccably clean and men who were homeless. Men who were healthy and men who were critically ill and severely immunocompromised. Never once did I encounter an adult male patient who had ever had a medical problem due to being intact.

… In fact, female patients are far more prone to fungal and bacterial genitourinary infections than male patients are—yeast infections, urinary tract infections, abscesses, etc. And we know that this is largely due not only to their shorter urethra, but also to their labial folds—their “excess” skin. Why don’t we cut that off? Why isn’t female circumcision considered for infection prophylaxis? That’s how we think of male circumcision. Except the reality is that, as with male patients, the “benefit” of circumcision would be negligible, because the number of serious complications with women staying “uncircumcised” is extremely minor.

So as it stands, we have two sons who are intact. One is almost five years old and the other is nearly three. They’ve never had a problem. During diapering they required less care and bother than our daughters did. And now, during bathing, we don’t retract or mess with their prepuce (foreskin).

They’re clean. They’re fine.

I suspect that someday they’ll be like my patients were: ninety years old and intact—with no regrets.

Related: Circumcision, the Primal Cut – A Human Rights Violation

Patricia, RN

I am a neonatal nurse practitioner with over 42 years of experience in maternal newborn health. I have seen many circumcisions, and I have been appalled at the pain that they have caused.

… In my experience as a neonatal nurse, I know that circumcisions are painful, that little boys will cry for days after the procedure. They need to be medicated with Tylenol. They need to have injections at the penile nerve to try to prevent the pain, but it doesn’t completely eliminate it. I have seen excessive bleeding after the procedure. I’ve seen disfigurement. I believe that little boys are made the way they are because it’s absolutely fine to be intact. If there was a problem with foreskin, nature would not have put it there. So let little boys decide when and if they want to be circumcised. But parents, please spare your child the pain and unnecessary surgery that is not without risk. Just think about it.

I have seen, not loss of the entire penis but definitely disfigurement, and definitely excessive bleeding that has required intervention by GU specialists, suturing. Complications occur frequently.

…When babies are born, one of the first developmental tasks is to learn to trust the world, which means being in the comforting arms of their mother and father. To subject them in the first couple of days after birth to this terribly painful procedure just seems like the wrong way to start life. But the bottom line is: it is not necessary.

Jacqueline Maire, RN

I am a retired nurse in France as well as in British Columbia, a mother, a grandmother, and today I really want to speak specifically to female circumcisers, those who cut the penis of little boys. I have questions. What is your excuse? Were you at one point molested by a male in your youth that makes you now take revenge on any penis whatsoever and whatever the age of the victim, in this case, a defenseless little boy? Did you ever have an orgasm? And I’m not talking while you’re making love, I’m just talking about sex. Never had an orgasm with an intact male and discovered the wonders and the perfection of the act? Well. I feel sorry for you, but this is not an excuse to take revenge on defenseless children, baby boys mostly and I don’t understand how you can do that without being ashamed of yourself. Well, it’s just excuses, or medical excuses, or plain and simple fallacies. I feel sorry for you, but I also feel ashamed in the name of womanhood. You don’t respect your Hippocratic oath if you even know what it’s all about. Well, I’ll remind you it’s first “do no harm.” You’re just plain bitches, and I’m not insulting the female dog there. You are very mean, and I’m disgusted.

Related: 10 Circumcision Myths – Let’s Get the Facts Straight

Dolores Sangiuliano, RN

I’m a registered nurse, and we have an ethical code, the AMA Code of Ethics for Nurses, and it states very clearly that we are charged with the duty to protect our vulnerable patients. If we’re not protecting our vulnerable patients, then our license isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. If anybody is vulnerable, it’s a newborn baby. You know, a child with no voice, and that’s why I carry this sign: “I will not do anything evil or malicious and I will not knowingly… assist in malpractice”.

Infant circumcision is maleficence and malpractice. It’s totally unethical. Proxy consent is only valid for a procedure. In other words, parents can give consent for a procedure for their child. That’s proxy consent in a case of treatment or diagnosis, and circumcision is neither. You’re not treating a disease, and you’re not trying to diagnose an illness. So it just flies in the face of everything we know to be ethical, right, and moral. And I believe that forced genital cutting, all forced genital cutting, is always wrong. It should be consented to, fully informed consent, and that fully informed consent needs to include what you’re cutting off the penis, the value of the foreskin, and the consequences of changing the structure from a mobile, fluid unit to this dowel like structure, and that needs to be included. Ethical nurses educate their patients. Ethical nurses teach intact care, and ethical nurses don’t participate in forced genital cutting ever.

A woman from Egypt came up to us and she said,” I totally agree with you. Female circumcision happens in our country all the time, and it’s illegal but it still goes on. And it’s our cultural shame.” And she said, “I totally understand you having your cultural shame for doing this and it is the same thing.” And we just had a total agreement conversation about, and it doesn’t matter the varying degrees. We don’t need to compare the varying degrees of harm. Because a lot of people say female circumcision is much worse. But right out of her mouth she said, “But no, it’s the same. To the person having it done, it’s the same.” That was really good.

A Danish woman came and said, during her college days, she came to the United States and had a little bit of fun one season and she had sex with an American man. She was horrified because she didn’t know what had happened to him. She thought he had been in some sort of industrial accident. She didn’t know how to ask him or how to approach it. So that was an interesting tale, and I really appreciated the term industrial accident in a new way cause this is an industry, the medical industry. It’s not so accidental. Although their intention is to say that they’ve improved our males, they, perhaps by accident, devastated us and devastated so many men sexually and in their souls.

Kira Antinuk RN

Feminism, at its best, encourages me to think broadly and critically about the potentially harmful effects of gender constructions on all people. To me, feminism should be more than a narrow interest group of women who care only about women’s issues or women’s rights. My feminism is bigger than that. I believe that feminism can help us to identify and challenge discourses and practices that engender all of us.

… Upon review in 2009, scholars Marie Fox and Michael Thompson found that most feminists’ considerations of female genital cutting either omit to consider male genital cutting altogether or deem it a matter of little ethical or legal concern. Why might this be? So biomedical ethicist Dena Davis observed that the very use of the term “circumcision” carries vaguely medical connotations and serves to normalize the practice of male genital cutting.

Conversely, it’s worth noting, how the term female circumcision was essentially erased from academic, legal, and to some extent popular discourse following the World Health Organization’s re-designation of the practice as FGM or female genital mutilation in 1990. The WHO’s justification was that the new terminology carried stronger moral weight. So, terminology then, as well as the differential constructions of the practices themselves seems to protect male genital cutting from the critical scrutiny that other practices like female genital cutting attract.

Now it seems pretty clear to me, that this asymmetry extends to the very different understandings of genitalia and human tissue that we all have. Here in the West, for example, we’re heavily invested in the clitoris to the extent, that its excision results in what Canadian anthropologist Janice Body referred to as “serious personal diminishment.” Janice Body went on to say, “We customarily amputate babies’ foreskins, not with some controversy, but little alarm. Yet global censure of these practices is scarcely comparable to that level of female circumcision. Is it because these excisions are performed on boys and only girls and women figure as victims in our cultural lexicon?”

Sophia Murdock, RN

After we had taken the newborn back to the “circ room” in the nursery, I watched the nurse gather the necessary supplies, place him on a plastic board [a circumstraint], and secure his arms and legs with Velcro straps. He started crying as his tiny and delicate body was positioned onto the board, and I instantly felt uncomfortable and disturbed seeing this helpless newborn with his limbs extended in such an unnatural position, against his will. My instincts wanted to unstrap him, pick him up, and comfort and protect him. I felt an intense sensation of apprehension and dread about what would be done to him. When the doctor entered the room, my body froze, my stomach dropped, and my chest tightened.

This precious baby was an actual person. He was a 2-day-old boy named Landon, but the doctor barely acknowledged him before administering an injection of lidocaine into his penis.

Instantly, Landon began to let out a horrifying cry. It was a sound that is not normally ever heard in nature because this trauma is so far outside of the normal range of experiences and expectations for a newborn.

The doctor, perhaps sensing how horrified I was, tried to assure me that the baby was crying because he didn’t like being strapped onto the board. He began the circumcision procedure right away, barely giving the anesthetic any time to take effect.

Landon’s cries became even more intense, something I hadn’t imagined was possible. It seemed as if his lungs were unable to keep up with his screams and desperate attempts to maintain his respirations.

Seeing how nonchalant everyone in the room was about Landon’s obvious distress was one of the most chilling and harrowing things I had ever witnessed. I honestly don’t remember the actual procedure, even though the doctor was explaining it to me. I can’t recall a word he said during or after because I wasn’t able to focus on anything but Landon’s screams and why no one seemed to care. I only remember that the nurse attempted to give him a pacifier with glucose/fructose at some point.

Landon was “sleeping” by the end of the circumcision, but I knew it was from exhaustion and defeat. I had watched as his fragile, desperate, and immobilized body struggled and resisted until it couldn’t do so anymore and gave up.

Seeing this happen made me feel completely sick to my stomach, and I told myself that I would absolutely refuse to watch another circumcision if the opportunity presented itself again. I was unable to stop thinking about what I saw and heard…

The sounds that I heard come from Landon as he screamed and cried out still haunt me to this day.

Darlene Owen, RN

The truth about circumcision is that it is not medically necessary. It is not cleaner. Studies have proven again and again that it has no direct relation on cancer etc. as was once thought. It is also a very painful procedure. The baby does feel it, experience it.

There have been studies that demonstrate actual MRI changes within an infant’s brain after a circumcision has been performed.

As for those who claim “it looks better”, my response is, “Really? Based on whose decision?” A penis with a foreskin is how the penis is supposed to look. The foreskin has a function. It provides protection of the very sensitive glans (head) of the penis, and it provides ease during intercourse. During intercourse, the penis moves within its foreskin, preventing rubbing or friction of the vagina, which makes intercourse far more pleasurable for both the man and woman.

Many people will respond in outrage over female circumcision, yet still consider circumcision of males “the norm.”

Many parents aren’t properly informed of the procedure. It IS a very serious procedure with very many real risks involved. In my experience as a post-partum nurse, many parents who were led to believe it was a “minor” procedure and observed their sons’ circumcision, were sickened just as I was at the actual pain and distress it caused their infant. I have had many patients who, after witnessing their first son’s circumcision, decided immediately that they would not get any other boys they may have circumcised. Many parents told me that they wished they had known just how painful it would be for their son, that they would not have even considered it if they had known what is actually involved.

As for the argument that many men want their son to look like them, my answer is, “Why?” It is a stupid argument. Why can’t parents simply teach their son that their son’s penis is “normal and healthy”, that “Daddy had his normal, healthy functioning skin of his penis removed surgically, unnecessarily.” I also always say to those people, “Really? Well, watch an actual circumcision, and see if you still feel that way afterwards.” I have yet to see any parent watch a video, or view an actual circumcision procedure, who is not completely against the idea afterwards.

An uncircumcised penis is very easy to keep clean. There is no special care required. The saying goes, “Clean only what is seen.”

As for worrying about the son’s foreskin not retracting, and needing a circumcision later in life, that actually only occurs in a very, very small number of males. However, even if the male does need the surgery later in life, he will be put to sleep for the procedure and will not feel it. He will also be managed comfortably with pain medication. A newborn doesn’t have any of those benefits. A newborn is awake for it, will feel it, and doesn’t receive any pain medication.

Ask any grown male if he’d get his penis circumcised while awake, with no freezing, and I guarantee you’d hear a very loud resounding “NO!” Yet, many men will put their newborn son through it. Doesn’t make much sense does it?

I realize that at one time it was considered the norm. Now, however, with all of the education about it, I cannot understand why parents still proceed to put their tiny little newborn son through such a horrific experience.

I am proud to say that I am an intactivist and the proud mom of two gorgeous, healthy, intact boys.

Related: Doctors Against Vaccines – Hear From Those Who Have Done the Research

Andrew, RN

I am a registered nurse. I work at a DC hospital. It’s not part of my current job, but when I was in nursing school, I witnessed several circumcisions as part of my rotation, and I was interested in it because personally, I had developed an opposition to circumcision.

As an adult, I never had to be part of that decision not having a child. But I knew that if I did, it was one that I would want to make. And when I had the opportunity, I asked a doctor whom I watched perform it if he thought it was medically necessary because in my education, it is no longer stated, there is no longer a valid medical claim being made in the literature including in my nursing textbooks and so how can you justify it? And he said that he doesn’t personally justify it. He just knows that for the time being, it will continue to be done and he wants it done humanely and as well as possible. And he said “And I do it well” And indeed, he seemed to be proficient in it. I then asked him if he had noticed that the husband of the couple who had just had it done had seemed like he had his doubts and he said, “Yeah, I noticed that too”. “Do you think someone should have discussed it further with him because he clearly didn’t support the decision.” And then he said that that happens all the time, that one of the two of the couple want that decision made and the other go along with it.

My nurse’s perspective is that part of our job as an educator is to give more information, and so that would have been a great opportunity for someone to give that couple more information about whatever concerns the mother had that made her think that circumcision was the best decision. She seemed actually like she had some ill-conceived notions about the difficulty of keeping it clean, things that I knew that medically were not actually accurate. I actually thought at that time that I saw an opportunity for nurses to step in and educate her, to help and not tell the couple what they should do, but make sure they had the best information possible to make a decision, that again, is no longer being promoted clearly on the literature as medically necessary, including in my textbooks, and this was just last year.

Carole Alley, RN

And after the strap down and tie, they’re still screaming. The screaming lasts the entire time. And I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a baby scream like that. It’s not a regular cry. It’s not a cry of hunger or a cry of wanting to be hugged or a cry of having a wet diaper. This is a cry of incredible pain. I mean, it goes right through your body. Every cell in your body responds. And then the child is circumcised. You know, there are two different ways of doing it. Sometimes anesthesia local will be used but for the most part, I’ve never seen babies stop crying, even if that’s given. A lot of the time, it’s not used. More often than not, it’s not used. And then the clamp goes over the baby’s penis and the foreskin is cut off.

Patricia Worth, RN

In my opinion, this is an abuse. There is not enough information out there to convince me that this is medically necessary. And just as I can read through the Old Testament of the Bible, and stoning women to death because they committed adultery, I see as abusive, this “ancient covenant,” I look at it as a well, the human race has done all kinds of things and thought was the best thing at the time, and in retrospect, we can look back and go, blood sacrifice of human beings? This is not right. This is not morally right. This is not ethical. And especially when you’re taking someone who has not consented. Parents can consent all they want. This does not mean the child has consented to this.

Marilyn Milos, RN The Mother of the Intactivist Movement

While working as a nurse in a hospital, she learned about circumcision by assisting doctors during the procedure. The obvious pain and distress felt by the infant prompted Marilyn to research circumcision. Afterwards, she was able to provide parents with all of the facts.

By offering true informed consent, she dramatically cut into her hospitals’ cutting business. She was fired. Undaunted, she went to work saving our sons. She founded a non-profit known as NOCIRC, demonstrating that one person can still make a difference.

Here are her words:

The more we understand what was taken, the more we understand the harm of circumcision, that it is a primal wound, that it does interfere with the maternal-infant bond, that it disturbs breastfeeding and normal sleep patterns. Most importantly, that it undermines the first developmental task, which is to establish trust. And how can that male ever trust again? And I think that’s very hard for a lot of men and why men need to have control and be in control, and their reactions to make themselves more safe.

It was so amazing to me when I worked in a hospital, and my first question would be, “I see—I see that you’re gonna have the baby circumcised, and may I ask why you’ve chosen circumcision for your baby?” And they would say, “Oh, because I’m a Christian.” And I said, “Do you know that there’s 120 references to circumcision in the New Testament, that circumcision is of no value? If you’re a Christian you don’t live by outward signs. You live by faith expressed through love. Christ shed the last—was the last to shed the blood. He was the ultimate blood sacrifice for everybody. We don’t need to do this again.”

Conclusion

The hardest moral dilemmas seem to lie at the crossroads of two or more moral principles. In this instance, the right to religious freedom and the right to bodily integrity are in conflict for some parents. But if we are to uphold the right to bodily integrity for girls regardless of religion (Muslims often circumcise girls), shouldn’t we allow the same protection for boys?

Although religion is a factor, many parents choose circumcision simply because it is considered the norm. Myths about disease and cleanliness add to the confusion. When parents are not given all the facts, they cannot make an informed decision. On average, nurses are poorly equipped to answer their questions about circumcision. They do not educate parents, explaining the 16 functions of the foreskin or teach parents how to care for an intact child. (Nothing! Do not retract the foreskin. It cleans itself!)

Our sons’ genitals are carved apart in the name of healthcare when in actuality the practice is a profit-making enterprise. Circumcisions generate a lot of money for hospitals, while intact penises bring in no money at all. So while it is ethical for a nurse to provide parents with informed consent, it is wholly unprofitable for them to do so.

The truth will win. Circumcision is a profound violation of human rights. This conclusion is inescapable once we begin to think critically about the practice.

Author’s Note:

Male genital mutilation is still legal in all 50 states, and although Marilyn Milos hasn’t yet completely changed the world, she changed mine.

I am the second born of two sons. My older brother was circumcised. I was not.

Before my birth, my mother met a neighbor who had been given literature from NOCIRC. The sharing of this information about the benefits of the foreskin and the dangers and drawbacks of circumcision is the reason I was left intact.

Marilyn Milos bet on the idea that when given all the facts, more parents would make the right decision, and in my case she was spot on. I am intact, my sons are intact, and my nephews are intact.

Marilyn, I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and for my family. You are an inspiration to us all.

Sources

Circumcision- A Male RN’s Perspective: Chris – Dr.Momma.org

Ethical Nurse Refuses to Assist Infant Circumcision: Dolores Sanguiliano – YouTube

Nurses For the Rights of the Child

Nurse Questions Women Who Sexually Mutilate Boys: Jacqueline Maire – YouTube

Registered Nurse Shares Thoughts About Circumcision: Andrew – YouTube

Nurses Against Circumcision was originally published on Organic Lifestyle Magazine

#Circumcision #Intact #Intactivism

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