#pure love towards his little brother whom he treasured so much and then we all know shit just went from bad to worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cuinnamonbun · 3 years

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The brothers being accidentally in love with the Muslim even though they can’t be with them... would they lowkey convince the MC or would they sulk lol

(Say if it goes for both ways, MC is a hopeless romantic lowkey lmao)

OOF. So much angst. This one is a real brain teaser, I had to read SOO many tragedy poetry and fics to get the feeling so excuse the sentimental writing LMAO. A bit of warning though, I feel as though the brothers are OOC in this which is seriously messing me up, but I didn’t want to leave you bare-handed!

I feel like this HC requires a bit of context in order for people to understand why I wrote the brothers’ reactions the way I did. So I’d like to iterate the fact that I, too, am a hopeless romantic and I definitely believe love can change even the most difficult man. I’ve always had this HC in the Obey Me! universe that every creature is fallible and that the brothers, once fallen, are now much more vulnerable to these new emotions than when they were angels since they’re no longer bound to the service of God y’know?

So with that in mind, onwards to the HC!!

p/s: I’ll post the little brothers’ reactions soon, hope you liked this :)

How the Brothers React to Accidentally Falling in Love with a Devout Muslim MC (Big Brothers)

Lucifer

At first, this man will pursue MC for not-so-wholesome gains (cough corruption kink cough). Lucifer is a very decisive man. He knows what he wants and unashamedly goes after it and he will stop at nothing until it’s rightfully his

But in his pursuit, I could see him actually, really, really falling in love with MC

It’s their pure, kind soul that attracted him initially as with all the other demons, but the more time he spends with them, the more he gets sucked in until all he wants and craves is MC

It’s almost heart-warming if not a bit concerning

However in his chase for MC’s affection, Lucifer would forget one crucial detail: MC is a Muslim, one whom is devout especially now having seen angels, demons and hell right in front of their eyes and when he accidentally witnessed them praying, he will just shut down and instantly remember that they are not meant to be

To put it simply, it’s illogical for them to even be together

When the realisation dawns on him, he immediately turns a full 180 and become a massive dick to MC, even borderline cruel that shocks the brothers

If MC confessed their love to him, Lucifer’s heart would soar in happiness, but his pure, unadulterated love for them would force him to push them away and tell them that he doesn’t reciprocate their feelings

But I could also see his Pride taking factor into this.

A prideful demon such as he, who willingly defied God and fell from Heaven, he would absolutely REFUSE to have his partner so dedicated to God.

It won’t sit well in him at all and it will absolutely leave a bad taste in his mouth

But this doesn’t change the fact that he’s still in love with them, a fact which he DESPISES and is DISGUSTED by

When they left the Devildom, Lucifer would do what Lucifer does best: repress his feelings. That, or take it out on Mammon lol

But seriously though, he would need an outlet for his anger, heartbreak and yearning and he would most definitely drown himself in work or by punishing his brothers.

He can pretend all he wants that he’s fine, but Lucifer’s cues are pretty easy to read especially since MC has managed to get the demon brothers’ to bond with and understand each other deeper beyond surface level (a miraculous feat, kudos to our MC), the others can definitely tell that there’s some serious repression going on

But Lucifer gets very snippy whenever the brothers try to help him with it, which irritates the HELL out of them and they would be too annoyed with him to even bother helping him now

Now that his pride has driven away both the very person whom he loves and his brothers, Lucifer will become even more withdrawn and far, far lonelier than he was before MC came into their lives

Sometimes, he curses the circumstances that led them to him, even if they were the best thing that ever happened to his family

Yeah, heartbroken!Lucifer is just ;((( (Alexa play bitches broken hearts by miss billie eilish)

Mammon

This man is a capital S simp.

Mammon gets attracted to anything shiny/pretty REALLY easily (after all, it’s one of the main reasons why his symbolic animal is a crow) so him being attracted to MC at first didn’t really come as a surprise

I think he knows the difference between finding someone attractive and actually being in love with them despite having never even fallen in love before

He’s lived for centuries and plus, his own sister loved a human, he’s certain he has never felt that for anyone before

Him realising that he’s in love with MC would definitely come as a shock to him though. This tsundere can deny it all he wants, but he can’t deny the fact that MC’s mere presence alone gives him serenity and cardiac arrest at the same time

His initial reaction when he comes to terms with it would definitely be to flee and avoid MC like they’re the plague. But this man pines and when he does, his sin will flare up and MC will find themselves with a very clingy Avatar of Greed by their side

To Mammon, being in love is the equivalent of stepping outside of your home for the first time in weeks and feeling the gentle warmth of the Sun caressing your skin

He is gentler, more compassionate, and more attune to MC’s feelings. He definitely places them above Goldie because they are his most prized possession, the keeper of his heart, the rarest jewel and like everything he treasures, he takes extremely good care of them. But he would NEVERRR let MC or his brothers EVER know about that (sike, everyone knows it, he’s so soft for them it’s so obvious. They find it endearing though)

Which is why when he remembers that they’re Muslim and that they worship God, the very deity he curses and rebel daily against, his heart would break

He isn’t stupid (well, not all the time), he’s lived in the Celestial Realm before. He has seen the humans who reside there once they pass their mortal life. They were infinitely exuberant compared to the ones who were condemned to a lifetime of punishment in the Devildom for their sins

And he could never doom them like that, it would hurt him to see his love miserable and depressed down in the Devildom even if he would want nothing more than for them to be together forever

So, he would bottle up his feelings and try his best to live in the present and enjoy what little time he has with them, even though he felt like that entire year passed by in a flash (which, in demon years, is most definitely like the blink of an eye)

If MC reciprocates his feelings, I can picture him being so, so joyful about that fact, but he knew that their romance is a tragedy right from the beginning. He is a fallen angel, he can’t change his nature and he has transgressed against God in the worst possible way; by swearing eternal enmity towards Him.

I can’t picture him getting over them, even after they’ve passed and are thriving in the Celestial Realm

omg I'm gonna sob Alexa play Smile by Juice WRLD

Leviathan

We all know that Levi thinks of MC as his Henry, his number one best friend

And he’s right. There were no instances of their hangouts being anything more than platonic

When he first started falling for MC, he’d deny it like Mammon did

Him? In love with his best friend? Preposterous.

Eventually he’ll come to realise it though because they were probably watching hilarious videos on the Internet (cough Buzzfeed Unsolved cough) and Levi was so distracted because he was just staring at MC laughing suuuper hard at the video in pure awe. Like his lil demon heart just went doki doki

Pure joy is so beautiful on people and seeing it on MC?? They were pulchritudinous

But even after coming to terms with it though, Levi becomes SUUUUPER shy and embarrassed about that fact that for the first few days, he avoided them because he couldn’t compose himself in their presence

Eventually our beautiful demon of envy will snap out of it by MC cornering him and tearfully telling him that they miss his company

So now they spend even more time together and Levi will slowly become more confident around MC

This means soft, shy touches turn into ‘accidental’ brushes against them then to full lingering touches until finally, he becomes confident enough to throw his arms around them in a hug

Unfortunately, depending on the gender identity of MC, this may not fly all that well

In Islam, contact between opposite sexes whom you have no familial relation to/are not married to is considered a sin (I can elaborate in another post if anyone is interested in it though) and MC will have to politely turn him down, but this doesn’t mean that they hate him. It’s far, far from that

They have to be gentle in their explanation to Leviathan. This man’s self esteem is so low that if MC were to ever recoil from his touch, it would send him into a shame spiral and self deprecating thoughts that is much, much worse than before

So MC will have to remind him that they are Muslim, that they are bound to the services and will of God.

This reminder will destroy him though and his sin will absolutely consume him

He would become so, so envious of God that someone as amazing and wonderful as his MC is so dedicated to Him, and in his envy, comes wrath.

Though his wrath is not as potent as Satan’s, it is enough for him to act irrationally and ruin his friendship with MC

He just couldn’t stand to be around them because all he wanted to do is to hold them, kiss them and love them and his envy for them will become too much that he will start to breakdown because of it

I do picture him being a yandere though with his being the Avatar of Envy. If MC returns his feelings, it might be best that they keep it to themselves and not make it known because this man WILL latch on to them and never let them go

He would absolutely turn them against God if it meant he gets to be with them for eternity even after they die

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me levi x mc #muslim!mc #obey me x muslim!mc #swd lucifer #swd mammon #swd leviathan #wow levi's went from super wholesome to super dark real quick #angst

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damnedparker · 3 years

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velvet and sunshine

pairing: obi-wan x reader (gender neutral, no y/n)

warnings: food mentions, reader is sad, very mild general hurt/comfort

summary: college au. little to no sleep and awful professors have given you quite the day, and you need a nap. preferably in obi-wan's bed.

also posted on ao3

more self-indulgent fluff from me! i’m a one-trick pony! but i was yearning and stressed over college and i’ve screwed up my sleep schedule again so yknow here we are. i hope some of you enjoy my too sweet fluff. i would definitely write a cute little au series of this concept if i had the time <3

Oh, college. The ultimate vehicle of stress.

Your first of two classes you had on Fridays had went absolutely horrid, all on top of the fact you had gotten maybe an hour of sleep the night prior to get the homework due today done. You knew you needed to be better about procrastination, you really knew, but there's only so much blame you can put on your past self before you run out of time to catch up on the work that was stressing you out enough to put it off in the first place.

Your one, single hour of sleep had been at the cost of you having enough time to properly wake up and get ready as usual, so on top of being exhausted, you also had to deal with being around people when you felt more insecure than usual, feeling like a slob and like everyone was judging you for not having your usual makeup or outfit on. It did nothing to help your already miserable mental state.

In your first class, there was a discussion on the work due today, and the professor had taken every shot he could at putting down your contributions and opinions in the assignment. The rest of the class was completely silent as well, not knowing what to say. It was humiliating, and had gone on for around fifteen minutes, which ended up feeling like hours. After finally getting out of that class, you just wanted to curl up in a ditch and cease to exist for a while. But you had another class in around half an hour.

You sighed as you got in line at the campus market, clutching your meager excuse for lunch—some potato chips—in your arms like it was a precious treasure. It wasn’t the most fulfilling lunch, but the campus up-charged on-campus food like crazy, so you didn’t feel like wasting too much of your money on mediocre food. You would just eat later after your next class.

Just as you were imagining the lecture you’d receive from him for your poor nutritional choices, your phone buzzed with a message from your favorite person—Obi-Wan. He had sent you a simple little meme, one of those with a cat surrounded by heart emojis, accompanied with a simple “thinking about you :-).” You smiled and almost felt like crying at how sweet it was, despite this being a daily occurrence from him. That man loved his wholesome memes, and sent them regularly, and you were so thankful. It always made your day better.

But after today? The little spark of happiness didn’t last long.

After paying for your sad excuse of sustenance, you trudged out of the university center, walking slow as can be in the general direction of your next class. You really did not want to go; you could feel the exhaustion creeping up on you and you could tell you’d doze off in class, which was a nightmare waiting to happen. Although you had your best friend, Anakin, to cover for you, since he sat right next to you in that class, you just didn’t feel like dealing with any of it today. None of it.

And with that, you simply turned and started walking towards the edge of campus, toward your safe haven: Obi-Wan and Anakin’s apartment. You lived quite the ways away from campus, much too far to walk, but Obi-Wan and Anakin’s little home was just a block over. Your boyfriend had class for another hour or two, but you really just wanted a place to nap, and you didn’t trust yourself to drive all the way home. You would’ve almost certainly been hanging out with Obi-Wan later tonight anyway, so you figured he wouldn’t mind. You could have him bring you to get your car sometime later.

After some delirious walking, you finally reached the apartment complex, heaving out a sigh once you stepped in the elevator, leaning against the wall as it made its way to the second floor. Your brain was absolutely fried from the lack of sleep, stress, and emotional day you had, and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back tears from the overwhelming mood beginning to take your mind once you arrived and managed a small knock at the door.

“Oh no, is it raining?” Anakin’s brows furrowed once he let you in, figuring you were there to drive him. That’s what you always did when it was raining outside, mostly just so you didn’t have to hear him complain about his clothes being wet during class.

“No, I just- I can’t deal with another class today,” You sighed, setting your bag down by the couch and toeing off your shoes. “Obi’s not working today, right?”

“No, he should be home after class,” Anakin watched as you rounded the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a glass of water. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just having a day,” you could feel your shoulders hanging, your posture reflecting your mood. “I just need some sleep. I can’t do class the rest of today, sorry to leave you to deal with Windu alone today.” You scrunched your nose in apology, referring to your strict, and often frustrating political science professor. The man was wonderful at lecturing, but absolutely frustrating when it came to assignments and tests. He often liked to pick on Anakin for discussions, and usually you came in to save him when no one else in the class felt like talking.

“Don’t worry about it, I can handle him on my own,” your friend nodded, reaching over to squeeze your arm affectionately. “Enjoy your nap,” he collected his bag and put in an earbud, preparing for the walk to campus. “But do not eat all my snacks like last time. Obi-Wan hates Cheetos, so I know it was you.” He gave you one last playful glare before grinning and shutting the door behind him. You looked down at the counter, now alone in the quiet apartment. You felt safe here, comforted by your best friend and boyfriend’s belongings laying about. It was clear what was Anakin’s and what was Obi-Wan’s, the difference very clearly seen between objects that were tidily tucked in their places, while others were strewn about in random places. You had witnessed many fights between the two adopted brothers over things like this, and sometimes it was a wonder they were able to live alone together at all. Not to say that Anakin hadn’t insinuated you should move in with them multiple times lately, very pointedly looking at Obi-Wan while he did so. Of course you would say yes in a second, but you didn’t want to pressure your boyfriend, who was very careful about big decisions in your relationship. The two of you had been dating for almost a year now, and were practically inseparable, and he was secure in the fact that you both believed there would never be anyone else you could love as much as each other. However, you knew Obi-Wan was a very particular man, and could be somewhat traditional in his courting. You thought it was sweet. Anakin, who was already daydreaming to you about proposing to his own partner, thought it was stupid, saying you already practically live here anyway! He wasn’t totally wrong. At this point, unless Obi-Wan was at yours or you were somewhere with him, you were probably going to be found at their place.

You sighed to yourself, feeling your eyes getting heavy. You were beginning to crash from your many cups of coffee last night. You headed straight for Obi-Wan’s room after locking the front door. His room was always impressively neat, never any clothes on the floor or anything out of place, except momentarily when you had forgotten to put something away or the two of you were in the middle of something. Painted a deep blue, and decorated with various framed posters or art, along with a few framed photos, his room was very simple. It was just the right size for it to be cozy without being suffocating.

You made a pitstop at his closet, pulling a sweater off the very top of his laundry basket, the one he’d worn the day before, along with some pajama shorts you kept in his dresser for impromptu sleepovers. You changed quickly, not keen to sleep in jeans, and also wanting desperately to lay down. You crawled into his bed, snuggling under the sheets and breathing in the scent of him all around you. Sleep came not long after you settled into the blankets.

---

Obi-Wan hummed softly under his breath, a song that you had showed him a few days ago and had subsequently gotten stuck in his head. He smiled to himself as he remembered the overjoyed look on your face when he had told you how much he liked it, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket and get in his apartment. He paused while he was hanging his jacket up, noting your bag next to the couch, along with the glass on the counter. He furrowed his brows, knowing you had class, and although you certainly had before, you rarely skipped since your professors counted absences against your grade. He dropped his bag next to yours and made his way into his room, shoulders drooping as the weight of worry escaped them. You were curled up in his bed, wearing one of his sweaters, fast asleep. It was an adorable sight, you clutching onto the stuffed bearded dragon you had won out of a claw machine at the mall on your last trip together, whom you had gleefully named Boga as you passed the gift into his arms, insisting it was for him.

Obi-Wan shucked off his pants, leaving him in a t-shirt and his boxers, before sliding in next to you. He watched your eyelashes flutter slightly; clearly you were dreaming. You mumbled something in your sleep, followed by a happy sigh, and another mumble of something that vaguely resembled his name. He could’ve collapsed in on himself from adoration purely aimed at you.Carefully, he reached over to brush a stray hair out of your face, before beginning to press kisses to your skin, first at your jaw, then cheek, forehead, nose. You began to stir at his affections, sleepily blinking open your eyes to your boyfriend smiling at you. He trailed his hand down your arm, intertwining your fingers together as you began to wake up more.

“Hi, Obi.”

“Hello, my love,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. “Not that I don’t enjoy coming home to you in my bed, but don’t you have class right now?” Your peaceful state from just waking up seemed to crack at his words, and a lump came back to your throat at the return of your sour mood from earlier. His eyebrows furrowed at your immediate change in mood, knowing something was wrong.

“I really couldn’t handle another class today,” you rolled onto your back, moving your joined hands to lay on your stomach. Obi-Wan scooted closer to you, resting his head against his hand, propped up on his elbow as he studied your face. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you to let you know I was going to be here.”

“No apology needed, darling, you’re always welcome here,” he untangled his fingers from yours, beginning to play with your hair as you talked. You could feel tears springing to your eyes from the gentle affection, the simple relief of being around the person you loved most, and his immediate recognition of your need for comfort. Obi-Wan could read your moods almost scarily well, and he almost always knew what you needed from him to make it better. “If you want to talk about what’s made you sad, I’m here to listen. Or we can just have a cuddle and listen to music.” You managed a small smile at his offer. Always so sweet.

“Can I have all of the above?” You turned your head to pout up at him, earning a happy grin and chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Anything for my sweetheart,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, rolling off the bed to retrieve his phone from where he’d set it on his dresser. He shuffled the playlist you had made together one late night on Spotify when you couldn’t sleep, full of relaxing songs that the both of you often drifted off listening to together, since the both of you couldn’t sleep in complete silence. “Now, come here.” He almost jumped back into the bed, immediately pulling you on top of him. Your head fell into its usual spot at his neck, forehead pressed to his pulse point, which was steady and comforting. Obi-Wan wrapped you up in his arms, gentle hands sliding under your— his— sweater, rubbing comforting shapes into your lower back. You hummed contentedly.

“I might fall asleep like this instead.”

“That’s okay, honey,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. You let out a soft chuckle as his scruff tickled your forehead. “Now, tell me everything that’s wrong so I can make it better.”

As you began to detail everything that had led you to seek refuge in his bed, Obi-Wan listened patiently, humming affirmations every so often and continuing to trace lines across your back, his sweater now partially pushed up to expose your lower back. The contrast between the slight chill of the open air and his hands was pure heaven. You didn’t know how you were still talking so clearly; half your attention was busy focusing on the slight callouses of his fingertips against your skin. Everything was warm and gentle, swallowing you up in velvet and sunshine. It was an absolute miracle that you didn’t doze off by the time you finished venting, the heavy feeling dragging you down having been lifted just the slightest bit, both by letting it out and by Obi-Wan’s hold.

“That is quite the horrid day, my dear,” he affirmed. “But you made it through, and it’s over now. You’re here and you’re safe, and we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you like. You can relax.” His arms fully circled your waist then, squeezing you to him affectionately in a hug. “Everything will be better now.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, lifting your head and slightly sitting up from your comfortable position against his chest. Your boyfriend gave you a small smile when your gazes met, leaning into your hand that was now resting against his cheek. “You’re too good for me, Obi.”

“Oh no, I’m afraid it’s the other way around,” he grinned, a bit of pink settling on his cheeks. Crow’s feet became evident around his eyes and you were absolutely crushed by how lucky you are, how much you loved this man. “It’s a privilege just to be able to make you feel better after the awful day you’ve had.” His words were completely genuine, gaze absolutely soft as he looked at you. You could have cried. You don’t know how you didn’t. Obi-Wan seemed to gather this from your long silence, and the slight shift of expression on his face. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Yeah,” you said after a moment, pressing a short, chaste kiss to his lips. He found your hand next to his head, intertwining his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand and tilted his head in a silent are you sure? “Everything’s perfect.”

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #star wars fluff #star wars au #college au #obi-wan x reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #fluff #my fics

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sweetsforhikari · 3 years

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Happy Birthday, Sakuya 🌸

Without you, there won’t be Mankai Company and our story together wouldn’t have begun. In honor of your birthday and the release of your second solo song, please read the letters that I wrote for you about how the troupe members think about you.

a.n.

I know the format might be weird, but I wrote this addressing Sakuya, so the ‘you’ here refers to Sakuya. I just thought of writing something for him to read so yes, do take note that you need to read everything below as if you’re Sakuya!

Masumi Usui

Your days of taking care of him as a leader, as a friend, as a brother really made an impact to him. Although Masumi never explicitly reciprocated your love, he has grown to listen and respect you. Allowing you to be involved in his business, hugging him, choosing to depend on you, and taking the time to listen to your words are mere proofs of him considering you as part of his family.

Both you and Masumi never really knew what true family should be like, but I’m sure your time together made both of you understand what it meant to have a brother who would stick by your side no matter what.

Tsuzuru Minagi

He has immense faith in you, Sakuya. All the scripts he had written for your role have definitely been adjusted to suit you and you alone. He would have never written a role where he knew you couldn’t perform in.

Without you as the leader, he would also have gone mad dealing with the antiques of the other members. As much as he acts as the mediator, the middle ground of the chaos ensuing in Spring Troupe from time to time, he appreciates your presence as the leader who has grown so much more dependable throughout the years.

Dare I say, sometimes, he glances at you and smiles softly, proud you as one of his little brothers that he cherishes deeply.

Itaru Chigasaki

Sure, he might view you as a token of gacha luck to bring that SSR home, but you’re definitely more than that. Him accepting his role as the father of Spring Troupe was his way of committing to the found family that he has now. The family that you have established.

Deep down, he’s eternally grateful for your ceaseless attempts to convince him to stay and perform with the troupe during Romeo and Julius. Without you, he wouldn’t have met this group of people with whom he could drop his mask and completely be his true self.

Citron

He enjoys seeing your face light up with wonder and excitement not because he takes pleasure in teasing you, but I believe he wants to preserve that childlike innocence in you as much as possible.

Despite what others might think, I genuinely believe Citron only wants you to feel happy and ignore the negativity and evil that lie in this world. The greatest pleasure in his days has always been to see you smile right after you wake up and before you fall asleep at night. Don’t you think that’s why he enjoys telling you those magical, bombastic, wonderous stories?

Chikage Utsuki

Admittedly, he still enjoys tricking you during your daily coin toss, but he will stop at nothing to ensure you do not need to worry about a thing in life.

After all, you were the first to not give up on him and still saw him favorably (or should I say objectively without any judgment) despite his actions towards Izumi and Mankai in general.

Putting all the other troupe members under the cut so this won’t get too long!

Tenma Sumeragi

You do know this child actor genius took the audition for Mankai because of you, right? You, who thought your acting was sub-par, turned out to inspire a veteran to face his fears and took that step.

How could Tenma ever thank you properly for that? That’s why as a fellow troupe leader, he would make sure to practice often with you, giving you acting pointers whenever he could. Not to demean you, but to lift you up so both of you can bloom together on stage as equals.

Yuki Rurikawa

He comments about your naivety, but I dare say he actually envies you for it. Being part of the minority and adopting a cynical approach to life proves to be tiring at times. The positive outlook in life despite your background is definitely something that he has considered to adopt at some point in time.

To him, you’re a reminder that being positive is an option. As much as he seems baffled by your innocence, he is part of the crew that does his best to preserve that side of you.

Muku Sakisaka

You two are angels! I can only imagine both of you continue being the precious babies that you are. Muku adores you and definitely considers you one of his precious older brothers.

His enthusiasm is reciprocated with you around and your presence lifts up his spirit as well. You are each other’s healing spirit in a way. Always be there for each other, and just by being together, both of you remind all of us that staying pure is a choice and such sight heals us on a daily basis.

Misumi Ikaruga

He’s off on scavenging triangles for your birthday! Apparently, he heard the cats sang praises about you the other day. As thanks for being his friend and for being kind to the kitties, he’s going to find a special triangle just for you.

Thank you for being so kind and understanding to him, and for becoming his faithful friend, one of his precious treasures in life.

Kazunari Miyoshi

How many times have you appeared in Kazu’s Inste feed, I wonder. He always seem to find joy in sharing what he found that might be of interest to you.

Both of you are expressive so it’s no surprise either when Kazu wants to hear your opinion on anything. Hope you find those times to be exciting. It is after all, quite rare, to find someone to be candid with these days.

Kumon Hyodo

Both of you are quite literally sunshine in human form. At times too bright for some, but that’s why both of you should continue being you.

Even Kumon admits watching you lifts his spirits, can you imagine the influence you have in improving the mood of those around you? Sakuya, as Kumon said, please stay true to yourself and keep being you. Your smile and positivity radiate and I honestly think we all need someone like you in our lives.

Banri Settsu

Don’t feel bad if he lets you borrow his clothes, or if he buys you stuff! It’s his way of letting you know he cares deeply for you. Please don’t think that you’re not worthy of receiving such gifts or even having his company.

If anything, all he wants is to see you all happy with that beaming smile. Keep being the sunshine that you are because I’m sure that’s what Banri wants for you!

Juza Hyodo

The passionate duo; both of you talk about acting a lot and I’m glad you have someone to share your thoughts and passion with.

Juza considers you as a companion of some sort, he seems to always asking you to practice or do etudes together. Just knowing that both of you can support one another in your endeavours is heartwarming. But, please don’t eat too much sweets if you can’t take it. I’m sure Juza would understand.

Taichi Nanao

He likes to try out new things and he’s grateful that you are always open to his idea and agrees to accompany him whenever he tries them out.

Thank you for being a great friend for Taichi, but please make sure that you guys don’t go overboard and hurt yourselves. Wouldn’t want that to happen when you’re having fun, right?

Omi Fushimi

How’s the Neapolitan that he cooked for you today? It must be delicious! All the love and affection he has for you has always been included in his cooking.

Thank you for being the best at helping him out in the kitchen and actually doing the chores. He appreciates it a lot, especially since the dishes don’t clean themselves and with more hands on deck, he is eternally grateful.

Sakyo Furuichi

Both of you really have come along way, from him being doubtful about your potential until today. You did it, Sakuya! You proved him wrong, alright.

I believe you are his reminder to stay true to what your dreams are. In both of your cases, you both want to be an acknowledged actor. What a long way you two have come. Remember that you have the power to prove people wrong with your earnest determination and always remember that you manage to get Sakyo’s approval on your leadership and acting skills!

Azami Izumida

This kid needs to learn a lot from you and he knows that even though he doesn’t readily admit to it. Being a leader isn’t a walk in the park, he realises that as soon as he meets the other troupe members.

Although both of you come from an entirely different background, with him being rebellious and all, he is bound to understand that being earnest as Sakyo has said, will benefit him in the long run. You are a great example for him to follow, and don’t need to feel the pressure! You’re fine the way you are, and this kid will soon learn so both of you can bloom together!

Tsumugi Tsukioka

I’m pretty sure the cherry blossoms in the courtyard are well taken care of by Tsumugi because it also reminds him of you.

He looks out for you in the smallest ways which you might not have noticed. I’m pretty sure you realise by now that you can talk to him whenever you’re troubled, right? He will listen and he will be grateful he could be an emotional support for you.

Tasuku Takato

Have you been working out a lot with him? I could start seeing those muscle lines on your arms and legs. Keep up the good work!

He cheers you on by always thinking of training menus for you, knowing that your motivation to be stronger is to build your stamina for better endurance while acting. Tasuku might not say anything, but deep down he appreciates you depending on him for such matters. (Don’t tell him I said this, please. He’ll deny it anyway)

Hisoka Mikage

Being in the Christmas play together must have made you guys closer. Hisoka even mentioned how he looks forward to acting with you again.

Your caring nature did not go unnoticed. I believe he even gave you some marshmallows to try? And if that’s not him accepting you as one of his own, I don’t know what is.

Thank you for always looking out for him. He has you to thank for all the times he slept and was protected by the cold weather.

Homare Arisugawa

I’m curious whether you actually understand Homare when he’s gushing about an inspiration for his poems. But, you always seem to listen intently and take the time to attempt at digesting the verses.

Homare adores you for that; not everyone can appreciate his poems, he knows that very well, but those who put in the effort to understand his world will always be remembered. And you, Sakuya, are one of them.

Azuma Yukishiro

Being one of the oldest members of the company also meant that witnessing youth in action is always something that he looks out for everyday. This might explain why he’s a bit sad you’re one year older and more mature now.

His wish for you is simply to let you have no worries in life as you experience youth and the splendour it brings. You’re still young, so many doors of opportunities left to open. With that in mind, feel free to embrace your passion and continue pushing forward to reach your dream, Sakuya. He has your back and nothing will ever get in your way anymore.

Guy

Honestly, please convince him that you enjoy Citron’s company. I’m confident that you never once considered Citron to be a nuisance or burden of any sort.

Just know that Guy is at your service for all the trouble that Citron has caused you. And in times of need, he will always be ready to assist you.

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 3 years

Text

Written in the Stars

Summary: Mammon reflects on the parallels of between the Lord of Fools and his lover Geldie, with his relationship with you. On the other hand, the Musical was a great way to not stop the audience from realizing how much you love Mammon.

Tags: Henry and the Seven Lords Event, Reader is out there fueling the Henry x Lord of Fools shippers because we as Mammon stans simply can’t help but be in love with him, The yearning and longing is strong in this one, Fluff

Rated: G for General Audiences, I’m surprised too

A/N: I’m failing two subjects lol

1. “Money is my dearest friend and closest companion”

The first time Mammon heard the words of the Lord of Fools, he gave him a nod of approval. He wasn’t close to you yet back then, still a little bit distant but Mammon wouldn’t deny that he liked how you treated him; Gentle, kind, and something almost like you were fond of him. Which was the reason why he had let his guard down for a moment when you asked,

“Why did you agree with what the Lord of Fools said?”

“Stupid human, don’t you know? Money is the only thing in the world that won’t betray you” He answered, a smirk on his face as he made plans to ensure that his scheduled marathons with you wouldn’t be rescheduled.

You had hummed at him then, and Mammon thought that the conversation ended.

It wasn’t until later on, when the whole fiasco with Levi ended did you share your thoughts.

“I think, the Lord of Fools only said that because he lost Geldie” You told him, head resting on his chest as both of you lied down on his bed and watched the TSL movie again.

He made a noise of confusion, somewhere between a hum and soft purr.

“When he said that money was his dearest friend and closest companion, I think he only said that because he lost Geldie and couldn’t do anything.”

He blinks and gives it a thought, “I’m surprised you can say something like that.”

And then he feels like smacking his mouth, risking a glance at you and seeing your bewildered face.

“I-I mean-”

You laugh softly and only curled further into his chest as you smothered your laughter with his body and Mammon feels something warm and tender unfurl in the middle of his chest.

“So mean, Mammon! Just because I’m on autopilot most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t use my brain” You teased him, peeking softly from his chest and as the Lord of Fools start to recount to Henry about Geldie, Mammon felt that the could understand why the Lord of Fools had fallen for his lover.

“I have seen all the treasures the world has to offer. And all of it pales in comparison to a single smile from my her.”

A single smile from you was enough to make him feel as if he had seen the greatest treasure in all 3 realms.

Now though, as he practiced his lines with you, Mammon can’t help but be torn between wanting you as Henry and wanting you as Geldie. He wanted the camaraderie and soft fondness that Henry had for the Lord of Fools directed towards him, he wanted Geldie’s loving and affectionate words be said by you towards him.

“Mammon?”

“...I don’t like the replacement for Geldie...” is what he stupidly said. Almost whining and Mammon hoped, as he sought for your affection, that you wouldn’t realize what he actually meant.

“Hmmm~” You ran your fingers through his hair as Mammon breathed in your scent, sweet like cotton candy, “

“You don’t actually have to like them, just treat them like they’re a customer we’re about to scam.”

Mammon blinked and looked at you through his lashes, “Sometimes...I think that you’ve been holding back from us back then.”

You smiled at him and said, “Maybe...you’re just the only one who knows this side of me.”

The two of you return to practice but Mammon couldn’t help but feel abashed as he repeated the lines the Lord of Fools said to Geldie when they had reunited,

“I loved you once, but now... I understand that I had never stopped loving you.”

He took a deep breath and let out a soft shaky exhale as he placed his hand a top her face, the thick ice separating him from the softness of her skin,

“I could not bare to hide you away from the world but if I knew this would harm you more, I would have kept you close to my side.”

Mammon looked at you and somehow, he felt that he could understand what the Lord of Fools meant.

2. “It is everything to me”

Mammon would never deny the fact that he enjoyed being your sounding board. The easy way you’d just ask him for his time, just to ramble out your thoughts about TSL, more specifically the Lord of Fools whom you had declared to be your husband right off the bat when he was introduced. He liked how regardless of who accompanied you home, you’d make your way to his room and hang out.

It didn’t matter whether or not the two of you had already spent most of the day, you would always go to his room, homework or laptop in hand, making yourself at home by his side, be it on his couch or on his bed. And Mammon would always find himself discussing with you about his day, his thoughts on the Lord of Fools, and whatever scam he was thinking of.

You listen to him, attention solely on him, and something in his heart flutters as he reminds you how the Lord of Fools and Geldie were when they were together.

“But you can’t deny that there’s some similarities with Geldie and Henry tha-that’s probably why the Lord of Fools is soft for Henry!” He stuttered as he felt the weight of your interest, oddly similar to his familiars that you were so found of.

“It’s the novelty isn’t it? That the Lord of Fools is fond of Henry and Geldie,” You pointed out, “Both of them treat him almost the same way, beloved.”

You looked at him as you said the word ‘beloved’ and Mammon felt his heart stutter to a stop. As if time had stopped in this precise moment, with both of you staring at each other’s eyes. It felt like, to Mammon, that the universe was now composed of only you and him.

He wanted to cross the space between you and him, to hold your face in his hands and kiss you, gently and with all he had. He wanted to know what your lips felt against his, what your tongue would taste like, he wanted to hold you close in the way lovers do. He wanted you in the same way he wanted all the precious and most valuable treasures in the world. He wanted you all to himself, all of you, your selfishness, your greed, your kindness, your gentleness, your love, your pain, and everything else that made you human.

He wanted you so much that it no longer felt like greed but something else, something good and pure. And then he blinks and the moment is gone, not entirely, but his opportunity had passed and Mammon let it be. The two of you settle in comfortable silence.

It was easy to understand why the Lord of Fools gave Henry a simple answer. Because as complicated as his feelings are all of it could be condensed in a simple words.

He loved you.

3. “The blood bonds I share with my brothers are like the weak, wispy threads of a spider by comparison. “

“Hey Mammon,” You called for him as both of you got out of your costume “have you ever wondered what would happen if the Lord of Fools had to choose between Henry and Geldie?”

“Is this for your fanfic?” He side-eyed you.

You blushed and denied it but Mammon had known you long enough to see your tells. Before, this sort of realization would have caught him off guard but now...it just filled his heart with warmth and this intense feeling of wanting to hold you in his arms for being so precious.

“It is, isn’t it?” He teased you and you turned to glare at him but his soft eyes and even softer smile knocks you breathless and the words are caught in your throat.

You love him, most ardently, most deeply but you won’t tell him. Because it isn’t time yet, now wasn’t a moment for fierce love confessions, for confessions about how he had taken over your thoughts, how every waking moment is spent thinking of him, his idiosyncrasies, his sublime eyes that is like the morning sky just as the sun rises.

A million thoughts and a million words condensed into 3 simple words that weigh heavy on your tongue and in your heart.

You avert your eyes from him but your hand reaches out to his, an instinctive need to reassure him and yourself, to say the words that you can’t speak out loud.

“I think that the Lord of Fools would choose them both” Mammon answered as he carefully fixed your clothes, and then your hair. Gentle and caring, that it makes you want for time to stop, for the world to wait just so this moment would last, “Because isn’t he a greedy bastard?”

“But what if he only had to choose one?”

“Then he’d find a way to have both.”

You risk a glance at his eyes and you find yourself wondering who would Mammon choose between you and another version of you from another timeline. Sometimes, you felt that you were Geldie, a lover forgotten and yet remembered all the same. Sometimes, you felt like you were Henry, a breath of fresh of air and held dearly.

And Mammon was your beloved Lord of Fools, well-meaning but unlucky, a bastard with a heart of gold so fragile it had to be hidden behind sharp and hard edges.

“...sometimes...I wonder if Henry was Geldie’s reincarnation...” You tell him softly, “...no one can just be that kind and forgiving unless they’re fond of the offender...”

You don’t know what you’re trying to get at, if this was a metaphor or if it was what it was, but you had always felt uneasy of where you were in Mammon’s heart, of what you meant to him and you can’t help but want to label this relationship you had with Mammon. You want the certainty beyond the pact, a bond that goes beyond a pact.

“Maybe,” Mammon’s voice was soft as he leaned closer to you “Maybe it’s a bit like meeting someone for the first time and knowing what it feels like to be home.”

The two of you gaze at each other’s eyes and you can hear the thump thump of your heart. Your face inches closer to his and Mammon’s hand cradles the back of your neck, you could feel your two breaths mingling with each other, the warmth of his body as his lips touches yours and you feel yourself melting in his arms.

Kissing Mammon felt too much and too little, your senses being overwhelmed by the heat of his skin where it touches yours and the intensity of his emotion. You cling unto him, hands moving from his chest to embrace his neck with your arms. Soft and intense all at once, you don’t know when you’ve closed your eyes but once you opened them you see Mammon looking at you.

He gives you a look that you can now name, it was the look of someone completely and utterly in love.

“Hello” You greet him softly as his forehead touches yours.

“Hello” He greets you back, face flushed and yet utterly besotted with you.

And Mammon kisses you again, chaste and sweet as both of you catch your breath. He thinks back to everything that had led to this point, and he knows that no matter how alike he is with the Lord of Fools there was a difference between him and that Lord. His bond with you and his family isn’t as weak as a spider’s thread.

‘Home,’ Mammon thought as he held you in his arms and basked in your presence ‘was neither the Celestial Realm or House of Lamentation, it’s you.’

rottenpoisonapples.com

Reviews for the Tale of the Seven Lords Musical

Removing the B in Bromance ★★★★★

Honestly I had low standards when I came to watch the musical but honestly the entire cast despite being newbies really gave the series justice. But what caught my attention isn’t the acting skills or the awesome singing talent and dance moves, yeah they were superb, but the low key romance between Henry and the Lord of Shadows. There were moments when I thought the two of them would kiss and honestly I wouldn’t have minded it because there’s just so much chemistry between the two, I used to thought that Henry was just friendly towards the Lord of Fools but seeing how the new actor made Henry especially soft towards the Fool was eye opening! the way the Lord of Fools cradled Henry in the Last Act? Gay! The way Henry smiled at him in Act 2 Part 1? Gay! The jealous side eye when the Lord of Fools began talking about Geldie? Gay! The pining and longing when the Lord of Fools saw how close Henry and the Lord of Shadows was? Hella Fucking Gay! I watched to show my support but I stayed because of the romance between Henry and the Lord of Fools - Warlock Dowling

★★★★★

Not a fan of Henry x Anyone but seeing how Henry and the Lord of Fools interacted on stage made me reconsider. There’s just something between the two that makes it work unlike other adaptations that forces romance to the audience - F.H. Death

★★★★★

five stars just for the fact that Henry was totally gay for the Lord of Fools and it was reciprocated. Fool’s Gold - Reprised- was definitely meant for Henry and no one can change my mind - Ligur

★★★★★

There is something beautiful in the sub-arc of Henry and the Lord of Fools falling in love, the contrast of how the Lord of Fools loved Geldie and how he loves Henry shows the growth of a being who has learned love beyond the ideal. The contrast between the fairy tale romance of Geldie and the Lord of Fools, and between Henry and the Lord of Fools is that Henry showed the Lord of Fools the sort of love that stems from understanding and not based on feelings alone. The Lord of Fools may have loved Geldie but it’s Henry that made him feel at home. - Dantalion

#mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x mc #obey me!#swd mammon #swd mammon x reader

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vinayrajoriaofficial · 3 years

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A Critical Essay on the Life & Poetry of William Wordsworth

With respect to 'The Prelude' & the 'Lyrical Ballads'

Portrait of the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth by Benjamin Haydon.

"You have given me praise for having reflected faithfully in my poems the feelings of human nature. I would fain hope that I have done so.

But a great poet ought to do more than this; he ought, to a certain degree, to rectify men’s feelings, to give them new compositions of feeling, to render their feelings more sane, pure, and permanent; in short, more consonant to Nature, that is, to eternal Nature, and the great moving spirit of things."

Wordsworth wrote this in a letter, in response, to his friend, John Wilson on the 7th of June 1802, thanking him for his heartiest congratulations on the success of his Lyrical Ballads and in the process reflected on the ideas of his poetical abilities and ambitions. Indeed, Wordsworth was a poet far ahead of his times, creating over the span of eighty years a colossal magnitude of poetic works which have become a part of the very fabric of the English language and literature.

Like many of his contemporaries, Wordsworth was influenced acutely by the historic event of the French Revolution, of which he was not only an observer but an active participant and supporter. But before delving too deep into his works and genius we must understand something about his life and childhood, without which, one cannot think of understanding his poetry let alone Wordsworth himself.

Young Wordsworth in 1798, in Town End, Grasmere.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born in the Lake District in April 1770 and died there eighty years later on 23 April 1850. He had three brothers and a sister, Dorothy, to whom throughout his life he was especially close. When she was six and he was nearly eight, their mother died. Dorothy was sent away to be brought up by relatives and a year later William was sent to Hawkshead Grammar School.

Wordsworth was cared for in lodgings and led a life of exceptional freedom, roving over the fells that surrounded the village. The death of his father broke in on this happiness when he was thirteen, but did not halt the education through nature that complemented his Hawkshead studies and became the theme of his poetry.

As an undergraduate at Cambridge, Wordsworth traveled (experiencing the French Revolution at first hand) and wrote poetry. His twenties were spent as a wanderer, in France, Switzerland, Wales, London, the Lakes, Dorset, and Germany. In France, he fathered a child whom he did not meet until she was nine because of the War.

In 1794 he was reunited with Dorothy and met Coleridge, with whom he published Lyrical Ballads in 1798, and to whom he addressed The Prelude, his epic study of human consciousness. In the last days of the century, Wordsworth and Dorothy found a settled home at Dove Cottage, Grasmere. Here Wordsworth wrote much of his best-loved poetry, and Dorothy her famous Journals.

In 1802 Wordsworth married Dorothy’s closest friend, Mary Hutchinson. Gradually he established himself as the great poet of his age, a turning-point coming with the collected edition of 1815. From 1813 Wordsworth and his family lived at Rydal Mount in the neighboring valley to Grasmere. In 1843 he became the poet laureate.

A recent cover page of the 'Lyrical Ballads' by Wordsworth & Coleridge, which heralded the Romantic Age in English Literature.

Now, keeping this dynamic canvas of Wordsworth’s life in consciousness can begin to grasp the magnitude of his poetic genius. To begin with, we can say Wordsworth was a game-changer in the history of English poetry. By publishing, his epoch-making collection of poems, Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth along with Coleridge heralded the Romantic Age of English poetry. On which Coleridge writes in chapter 14 of his book, Biographia Literaria, about Wordsworth and his romantic ideas thus:

"Mr. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to propose to himself as his object, to give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural, by awakening the mind’s attention to the lethargy of custom, and directing it to the loveliness and the wonders of the world before us; an inexhaustible treasure, but for which, in consequence of the film of familiarity and selfish solicitude, we have eyes, yet see not, ears that hear not, and hearts that neither feel nor understand."

-Coleridge on Wordsworth, Biographia Literaria

And so we see that Wordsworth did exhibit all these themes and ideas repeatedly in his entire works. He takes as his subjects the poor, the old, and the outcast, for example in the poems ‘Goody Blake and Harry Gill’, Wordsworth talks about an old woman who has to steal firewood to survive the winter. His poem, ‘Her Eyes Are Wild’, about a vagrant woman suckling her child:

Suck, little babe, oh suck again,

It cools my blood, it cools my brain,

Thy lips I feel them, baby, they

Draw from my heart the pain away.

-from ‘Her Eyes Are Wild’

In ‘The Old Cumberland Beggar’, a beggar sits among ‘wild empty hills’ eating, and his ‘palsied hands’ scatter crumbs while the ‘small mountain birds’ surround him, waiting warily for their ‘destined meal’. In the popular poem, ‘The Idiot Boy’ a poor countrywoman, Betty Foy, is the mother of a disabled son who gets lost and spends a night in the open air. When she finds him he speaks wonderingly of the owls and the moon, without realizing what they are.

This was a major breakthrough in English poetry as Wordsworth brought to the poetic arena, the lives of the common people and this was huge because no one had ever made such people a subject of their poems before. Also new in Lyrical Ballads are poems about children and how adults fail to understand them.

In the poem, ‘Anecdote for Fathers’, a boy resists adult logic, and in ‘We Are Seven’, a small girl, whose brother has died, insists that he still counts as one of the family. Wordsworth’s belief in the superiority of childhood is expressed most challengingly in the ‘Immortality Ode’ written in 1802, where he remembers his early years.

A painting of the French Revolution of 1789, which ousted monarchy from France and had a big impact on Wordsworth and many intellectuals.

Through his selected works, written after the experiences of the French Revolution, one also comes to feel the sympathetic nature of Wordsworth towards the lowly and the poor. Like in The Prelude, he recalls, how a revolutionary friend pointed to an emaciated girl they met on a walk and declared:

'Tis against that

That we are fighting

In the ‘Residence in London’ book of the same poem, he remembers seeing a poor man with a sick child in his arms, and writes:

Bending over it,

As if he were afraid both of the sun,

And of the air which he had come to seek,

Eyed the poor babe with love unutterable

As for expressing the moods and settings of nature, Wordsworth is the unquestioned master, often and aptly called by many to be the poet of nature. One can even argue that no English poet expresses nature in its innate sensual beauty and spiritual entirety as Wordsworth.

What’s more interesting in Wordsworth’s portrayal of nature is that for him Nature is not just Mother Earth that needs to be expressed and captured in words but is much more than that. Like in the poem ‘Lines Written in Early Spring’, included in Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth expresses the belief that nature is conscious as he writes:

'Tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.’

Or the core Romantic belief that nature is a moral educator is stated with breath-taking simplicity in another Lyrical Ballads poem, ‘The Tables Turned’ where he writes:

One impulse from a vernal wood,

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

In this regard one remembers a famous passage from The Prelude which gives an instance of Wordsworth expressing, nature acting as a moral guardian. The passage is about one summer evening when young Wordsworth takes a boat without its owner’s permission, and as he rows, he expresses:-

A huge peak, black and huge,

As if with voluntary power instinct,

Up reared its head

It seems to stride after him and, trembling, he returns the boat to where he found it. Even when not guilt-ridden, the boy Wordsworth in The Prelude is aware of nature as a living presence:

I heard among the solitary hills

Low breathings coming after me and sounds

Of indistinguishable motion, steps

Almost as silent as the turf they trod.

On Wordsworth’s poetic oeuvre, Walter Pater, a critic of Wordsworth’s time comments in his essay titled- Appreciations (1889) that Wordsworth to be the poet of ‘impassioned contemplation’ and in stressing both words equally, he got the balance exactly right. In his attempts to characterize the nature of the poetic or creative power, Wordsworth laid similar emphasis on impassioned seeing.

Perhaps, one can say, that the best encapsulation of Wordsworth's entire creative output has been written by none other than Wordsworth himself in the poem, ‘Glad sight wherever new with old’, written in 1842 when he was seventy-two. This poem points to almost everything that has been central to his long imaginative engagement with words and things. Wordsworth in it writes:

Glad sight wherever new with old

is joined through some dear home born tie;

The life of all that we behold

Depends upon that mystery.

Vain is the glory of the sky,

the beauty vain of field and grove

Unless, while with admiring eye

We gaze, we also learn to love.

Image Credits:- Pinterest & Google

References & Research:-

The Concise History of English literature by William Henry Hudson

The Routledge history of English literature

The Routledge Anthology of Poets on Poets

A little history of Poetry by John Carey

JASTOR Essays

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viviswtings · 3 years

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Sinners. (Mature).

So this is something I thought for the novel I’m actually writing (or that’s what I tell myself). The boy mentioned is completely based off Hwang Hyunjin. But I never name him so he could be whoever. Just like I never say the princesse’s name just to let you all live your dream (and by that I mean me. I wanna live my princess dream with Hyunjin).

Words:1764.

Warnings: It’s very angsty. It takes place in an ottoman harem like setting, so some of the expressions could be politically or socially incorrect. Also there is mentions of blood, loss of family members, fratricide and prostitution.

She wasn’t meant to be there at such an hour. It was too early, to soon to be wandering around the cold stone halls of the palace. Her satin slippers clicked softly against the marble floor, the freezing feeling creeping up her heel towards her leg, making her toes numb.

But she had heard the screams, the cries of agony, the many different prayers, and the pain had gripped her heart so tight, she no longer could sleep. If she closed her eyes, those of whom she once called sister looked back, void of emotion. The blank stare judged her, pale, cracked lips called her name softly, asking her for help, a help she would never be able to deliver.

So, she walked in the shadows, the veil around her frame mimicking that of night, covering her deepest sorrows and sadness. Hiding them, and her, from the sight of those who guarded the many doors and treasures behind them. She followed any noise that reached her ears, any little stimuli that got to her. Just to get rid of that anguish that threatened to end up consuming her.

This time it had woken her up. A thud, soft and gentle, kept repeating itself, footsteps, she realised. Many of them. And with those footsteps, the drag of feet, belonging to one who did not wish to keep walking, whose step had become heavy and painful, nearly unbearable. She had heard them before, the steps of the damned.

From experience she knew not to follow them, not to search for a damned man, one who was meant to die. But weren’t them all? Weren’t they all going to die anyway? She had seen them, the rope tightening around their neck, slowly, tortuously, as if it was nothing but mocking the soul it was about to take with it.

If they were lucky, the death of warriors would be granted to them as a favour from the Emperor. The sword swiftly cutting the air with a deafening noise, and before one could even tell, the cries of the women he left behind would follow.

For those whose blood could not be spilled, a silken cord handled by the hands of the most expert medic would take them in their sleep. Yet again, only the cries of their women following the next morning. She had cried with those women, she remembered, wearing nothing but black while following a trail of dark and beautiful wooden caskets adorned in gold. The bodies of the ones she had held closest to her heart inside them, their lives, their beautiful essence, taken from them forever. Reuniting with the so-called gods above, with whom they were now feasting, even if they had left a whole that would never be filled.

A light, warm and flickering, as were those from long white candles, illuminated a small portion of the hall she was walking through. Creating a halo around the door that hadn’t been closed. From inside came voices, ones she could very easily recognise, and others she had never heard in her life. With them, soft whimpers, the cries of men. She had never seen a man cry before, so maybe they were just poor boys that had been catch sneaking around the gardens. Picking up flowers and fruits, just relishing in their youth, as she once had done. Before it was stripped from her like clothes torn away from her body.

She peaked her head, looking with her vivid eyes at what was inside the room. It was a room that was at the very limits of the harem, a room she had never even come close to. She had never known the need, nor had the curiosity to venture that far inside the eunuch’s wing. But the room wasn’t much different from those of the odalisques, with two beds and poorly decorated. A mixture between the rooms of those who served and those loved by him.

Yet, it wasn’t that insignificant detail that had her attention grabbed by the gut, keeping her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before her.

A boy, not much older than her brothers, was kneeling on the floor. His head hung low, deep dark, greasy hair covering his face. His skin was pale, the shadows around his neck and wrists a sick hue of greenish blue. His body, long and slim, seemed to her, under the distressed attempt at clothing, more like those of young women and much less like the big, ample shoulders and big round bellies of men.

When he raised his head, forced by the sun-mistreated hand of a eunuch she knew well. A man covered in ugly creases and the darkest of faces she had ever witnessed, with his head shaven and shiny. She loved him very much, but, when his thick old fingers grabbed the pale skin of the boy’s jaw, forcefully making the poor soul look him in the eye, she felt as one who was witnessing the beating of a child.

His eyes were sharp as knives, dark as his hair, and shimmered with spots of gold in the candle lit room. His face was of soft features, with a small nose and round lips, his eyebrow harmoniously framing his face together. She had never seen such a face, such a captivating gaze. With hooded eyes and stern expression, yet looking like a god-sent angel to earth.

“Let him go”. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them, and the eunuch turned to her, his robes sizzling around him. She soon realised her mistake and took on a powerful stance she had learned from the Emperor’s very own mother. “Who is he? What are you doing with him?”

A smile grazed her beloved wooden-coloured eunuch’s face, softening his features and lightening the heavy weight pulling her down. She couldn’t help but smile back, softening also her stance.

“He is a gift from a king to the Emperor of The World, your highness”. Her friend’s words made her furrow her brows.

“To whom could he be a gift for, Gazlah? He is but a young boy. What use would we have for a young beautiful boy here?” Her genuine concern made the man flinch, not knowing what to answer. Even though he had known the young princess ever since she had been born and had been her closest companion in her darkest times. He knew of her deep thoughts and concerns; of the poetry she wrote in pieces of paper that later she would burn with the saddest look on her beautiful eyes. Yet, he did not know how to answer, he had never imagined himself in a situation where he would have to explain to a pure heart such a horrendous act that men all around her committed. The same men that later claimed to be knights in shining armour to her, bowing so low their hawk like noses nearly touched the ground beneath them.

“Do you want him, highness?” He asked softly, feeling for the boy. He had once been in his shoes, and a kind heart like that of the princess would have been for him a miracle sent from above amongst the pain and struggle he had to endure in his younger years.

She seemed taken aback by the offer, her doe like eyes opening, round like the moon above them. They turned back to the boy, who was looking at the candle on the desk, beautiful looks of hair like strokes of ink making him seem like a spirit, a ghost of a damned man. If she could take the pain away from his soul, maybe his happiness and joy would allow her to sleep again.

“Yes”. Was her short but assertive answer, her voice a soft croak. She finally stepped inside de room, kneeling beside him to help him get on his feet. He didn’t even look at her, probably fearing the worst was yet to come. Even when, by the looks of it, he had already walked through every hell imaginable to men. “You shall call a physician, Gazlah. Bath him, give him clothes and prepare a bed for him in my rooms. There he will stay until his health is restored”.

The eunuch looked at her as if another head had popped out of her neck. “You can’t have him in your room, your highness. He is a man”. His words took her by surprise, not even having given that possibility a thought, and she held the boy closer without hesitation. As if what Gazlah was doing was pulling him by the arm away from her. Like a child who just got her doll taken.

“He is a boy, Gazlah”. The princess looked at the poor soul’s face, his soft and pretty features couldn’t be those a man. Of that, at least, she was sure. “I can keep a kid in my room. It is no sin, for he poses no threat”. She wanted to believe the gold shine she had seen in his eye was that of childhood.

Before her friend could answer, a heavy weight pulled her down. She barely managed to not a let a scream that threatened to tear her throat out at the sight of the boy she was holding so close bleeding on her white gown. His eyes white orbs without pupils, without a trace of life in them. A high-pitched noise rang in her ear, and she held his body to her while the man called for a physician to come.

She did not know his name, or where he came from. She didn’t know his age, his history. She didn’t know anything about him. But those sad beautiful eyes had enchanted her. Maybe the princess had never witnessed features like his, for he came from a faraway land in the other side of the world. But she did know that after looking him in the eye, she could not let him die. She could not let him go without a fight. If she did, she would never know peace again. She would never sleep.

So she held him close, calling him even if it was without a name. Asking him to fight just a tad bit longer, so he could walk around the palace gardens, so he could go back home. Her tears stained his cheeks, and she couldn’t fathom yet why his wound felt so deep inside her chest, if it wasn’t hers. But the pain seemed to seep in her bones, and she could not bring herself to question it.

(It’ll mean the world to me if anyone wants me to turn this into an ongoing stories maybe? Just let me know if anyone wants at least a second part or I don’t even know. I’m so self conscious about sharing my more personal work here be kind please.)

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #original work #original writing #fantasy writing #fantasy world #medieval fantasy

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razberryyum · 5 years

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With the past arc coming to an end this week, resulting in most of our collective hearts being ripped out of our chests, I wanted to take this opportunity to pay tribute to our two dear big sisters of The Untamed/MDZS, Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing.

(novel and ep 32 spoilers below the cut)

Jiang Yanli (Shijie)

I took an immediate liking to Shijie the first moment we met her on the show since with her sweet smile and gentle eyes, she was so obviously a loving person and a caring big sister to her two unruly little brothers, there was almost no way I wouldn’t like her. She felt like the gentle type who would not harm a fly, and as we got to know her even more, I only loved her more. I’ve already talked about her kick-ass moment on Phoenix Mountain which perfectly encapsulated her greatness as a person, so I will look at other aspects of her life instead. Considering the fact that she grew up with parents who loved her in a well-respected cultivation sect, she really could have easily been a spoiled princess type of character since I doubt she was ever left wanting. And then, when her father brought home Wei Wuxian, she also could have easily either ignored the kid or worse yet treat him like crap, especially with the rumors about Wei Wuxian being her dad’s bastard son, which I’m sure she would have gotten a whiff of. Even if she had mistreated WWX, she probably would have gotten the full backing of her mom in doing so. But instead, because she is really just the most generous soul on earth, she instantly accepted him as part of the family and loved him as she did her own brother, even making sure that Jiang Cheng would accept him and treat him right as well. In fact, it is abundantly clear that Shijie had to act as more of a mother to WWX since Madame Yu most definitely had no intention of filling that role. Her attitude actually reminded me of Catelyn Stark and Jon Snow in Game of Thrones: like Catelyn Stark, she simply couldn’t forgive her husband’s infidelity and therefore could never like the child her husband brought back since she saw the boy as a daily reminder of his unfaithfulness. As much as I love Madame Yu, because she is awesome and fierce AF, it could NOT have been easy growing up in her household when one’s mere existence and presence triggered her ire. So really, thank God for Shijie, for being there and providing WWX with the motherly love and warmth that he probably sorely needed since Jiang Fengmian probably couldn’t always be around to take care of him.

As a result, I totally understand why WWX would have such bitter feelings towards someone like Jin Zixuan, since I felt the same way for a long time. Actually it wasn’t until JZX’s last moments did I finally like him as a person. Despite the fact that the live action has given us more time with him to redeem his character and make him more likable, I still held out all the way until the bitter end because, honestly, how can I ever forgive someone who had made Shijie cry like this:

But since he was also the one to make her smile and enjoy the happiest moments of her life, I could also never really hate JZX either. Mostly I’m just Shijie got to be with the man she obviously was in love with and I really appreciated the fact that the live action made him earn her forgiveness a little more. Even though she had to sneak out to let WWX see her in her beautiful bridal gown, I do believe that she had JZX’s blessing to do so because he knew how important WWX was to her, and how sad she probably already felt that he wasn’t allowed to attend her wedding. I wish the siblings’ reunion in Yiling was the last moment they could have shared together, instead of the gut-wrenching one in Nightless City.

When JZX was killed, my heart hurt so much because I instantly thought of how much his death would hurt Shijie, especially when she learned of it and more importantly, who killed him...they didn’t even have to show us her reaction since my imagination had already conjured up the worse scenario possible. I am certain WWX was thinking the same exact thoughts and conjuring up the same image, hence the pain on his face was so understandable and completely heart-wrenching.

Yet, despite being told her beloved A-Xian was the one who killed her beloved husband, that moment when she saw him at her home, she didn’t even hesitate to call out to him, using the same affectionate nickname she has always used. There was not an ounce of hatred or anger or blame on her face, only something akin to joy that she could see her brother again. Knowing he was in trouble as a result of visiting her, she then actually rushed right into the midst of battle to reunite with him again. I mean, just think about that for a second. Here she was, still in mourning for her husband, the love of her life, holding her only one month old child, but upon realizing her little brother was nearby, she dropped everything to rush after him, to see him, probably because she just could not believe he would ever do anything to hurt her like that. All the nasty things people have been saying about WWX, including how he commanded Wen Ning to murder her husband, she probably couldn’t believe because that was simply not the Xian Xian she knew and loved. In the past, every time Jiang Cheng would talk smack about WWX misbehaving or up to no good, she would always come to his defense. And even though in this particular case she had full reason to not defend him for once, she still believed in the good of WWX to go after him. Her love and faith in her A-Xian was so strong that when great danger was to befall him and she saw the sword strike heading for him, she completely forgot that she was a mother now with a child that still needed her, and just took that fatal hit for him because she just loved her brother so damn much that the only thing she was probably thinking about was A-Xian's in danger, must protect!. One might say she acted purely on instinct, without really thinking about the negative consequences of taking such a hit would have on her, but I believe that even if Shijie had one more minute to think about the situation, she would still make the same decision. Because that’s the type of selfless person she was: the caring big sister she was, the loving mother figure to WWX she will always be, the amazing mother she would have been to Jin Ling.

Even though Jin Ling grew up to be the spoiled princess instead, at least his basic nature is still good, and I’d like to think that that is what he got from his mom (while the spoiled part from his flowery peacock of a dad, lol) since God knows grumpy uncle JC and “doting” uncle Jin Guangyao probably weren’t much help in nurturing that sweet side of him, and not to mention we know he’s mostly friendless because of his disposition. Regardless of the sincerity behind JGY’s gestures when it came to his nephew, I am still utterly grateful that he gave him Fairy the floofiest doggo in the entire universe so that at least Jin Ling didn’t feel so alone when his peers mostly ignored him (even if it was kinda his own doing). I hope that wherever Shijie is, she can smile and be happy that her son grew up healthy and well and somewhat loved, and now, having finally reunited with the uncle he never knew but whom she probably would have always wanted him to meet, he could become an even better person who would make her even more proud.

Wen Qing

I owe Wen Qing a big apology. Before I started watching The Untamed, I had read rumors that they were going to change the love story between WWX and Lan Wangji to a love story between WWX and most likely Wen Qing, and therefore, I started the show with a lot of misgivings about her character. Personally, I hate when perfectly good love stories are altered due to no other reason than bigotry, so even though the character of Wen Qing is really the innocent bystander caught in the line of fire in this case (it’s not her fault if the writers had changed her character in that way), every time she shared a scene with WWX in those beginning episodes, I would actually grimace a little because I thought I knew where things were heading. Suffice it to say, I’m glad things worked out in favor of WangXian and I’m sorry I had any negative feelings towards her at all, because after WWX, she really is the most tragic character in The Untamed/MDZS.

Here's the thing, even though she didn’t turn out to be the love interest that would come between WWX and LWJ, I DO firmly believe that Wen Qing was in love with WWX, based on the way the actress played her and some of the moments we’ve seen (her reaction to having her wrist held by WWX, the way she asks about him when Jiang Chang rescues her from the Wen dungeon, the way she looks at WWX sometimes). Some might say she’s just being a big sister to him, which I would wholeheartedly agree with in terms of her novel counterpart, but on the show, that wasn’t my read of her character at all. However, I actually find it utterly reasonable that she would be in love with WWX because...hell, who wouldn’t be in that situation? Putting aside the fact that he’s her age, charming, smart, handsome, funny, kind-hearted, and talented, he’s also the savior of her treasured little brother and her clan. I would actually find it more shocking if she wasn’t in love with him. I know Wen Qing in the novel was not written that way at all, but she also didn’t appear much either despite having a pretty significant impact on certain key plot elements. Here’s the thing though, I actually think her feelings for WWX is what makes her character even more sympathetic because it’s a love unfulfilled, could never be fulfilled, not just because of her shortened lifespan, but also because during their time at the Burial Mound, it was made abundantly clear that WWX’s heart was elsewhere the entire time. Her disappointment at seeing the invitation from LWJ to his sister’s baby shower perfectly captured her understanding of that fact.

She believes WWX is staying with them only out of a sense of obligation, and one can imagine how guilt-ridden she felt since she believes her family is what has been keeping him from the people he actually loves. Even though her time at the Burial Mound is probably the happiest she‘s ever been in her short life, especially after Wen Ning woke up, she was still not afforded complete happiness because of her own sense of guilt in addition to her ever-present fear that their simple, happy days would eventually come to an end at the hands of the unforgiving world surrounding them.

Just thinking about Wen Qing’s life in general is enough to make my heart ache on her behalf. It could not have been easy growing up as basically a hostage of the Wen Sect, constantly living in fear of what Wen Ruohan would do to her little brother or her family if she didn’t do as she was told. Thank God she was blessed with the gift of being a talented physician and therefore useful to WRH, but it is also because of her talent that she acquired the unsavory reputation of being a ruthless, vicious medicine woman of the Wen sect, according to WWX when they first spoke to each other in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses. Nie Minghue’s words about her not being guiltless because she never once tried stopping WRH from doing his horrible deeds actually got to me since there is some truth to them: I mean, isn’t someone who is a part of the Nazis guilty by association, regardless of why they had to join in the first place? When she wasn’t worried about what the Wens would do to Wen Qing, Wen Qing was probably plagued with guilt since she undoubtedly witnessed the horrible things the Wens did and yet could do nothing to stop them. As someone who saved lives as a profession, seeing the Wens carelessly take lives could not have been easy on her conscience. But there was little she could have done since she had her own people to protect. It had to have been a stifling existence. And then, when the Wens were defeated, instead of being granted the freedom she probably wished for her whole life, the good guys turned around and basically imprisoned/tortured her people and even killed her beloved A-Ning whom she had lived her life for all this time. Her life went from bad to worse in a blink of an eye.

But then thanks to WWX, her little bro was miraculously brought back to life and even more miraculously retained all the sweet qualities that made him lovable so that she could at least enjoy one short year with him. Unfortunately, the semi-joyous days came to an abrupt end in the worst way possible. I can only imagine how heartbroken she was when she made the decision with Wen Ning to surrender themselves to the Jins, but I also believe that in knowing what fate would befall her brother as a result, there was no way she would be able to live with herself after that, so that’s why she chose to go to her death with him.

And honestly, her death is what haunts me and will continue to haunt me, because if memory serves, we were never really given details of how she died in the novel, nor did we get much in the show. We know she was just reduced to dust, so she was never even afforded a proper burial, but that still pales in comparison to the notion of what torture probably awaited her in the hands of that particular Jin father and son duo. There is no way Wen Qing’s death could have been pleasant. The only consolation I have is that at least she died quickly, relatively speaking, at least compared to poor Wen Ning, whom they kept around for a much, much longer period of time to experiment on. Seriously, just thinking about it now is making me sick to my stomach. For someone who probably never hurt anyone in her life, Wen Qing didn’t deserve that kind of ending. I’m glad she got to meet Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and through them, experience friendship and maybe love like any normal girl would, but it was still too small and quick an interlude in her otherwise difficult life. Personally I wish they developed her relationship with JC a little more since I actually thought the two of them had a lot of chemistry, but I doubt that would have afforded her a happy ending either since, as she pointed out, JC wouldn’t have been able to let go of his responsibilities and status as sect leader to save her and her family as WWX was willing to do. It would have still been a doomed romance in a sadly doomed life.

Before I end this tribute, I wanted to also applaud the two actresses who so wonderfully brought our two beautiful big sisters to life: Xuan Lu as Shijie and Meng Zi Yi as Wen Qing. Their performances greatly contributed to the affection I feel for these two characters and I am so glad they were chosen to embody them.

So to our dear Shijie and Wen Qing, the two fine, brave ladies of The Untamed/MDZS, I salute you, and I hope that wherever you are, you are finally at peace and happy.

#The Untamed #陈情令 #CQL #Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS #Jiang Yanli #Shijie #Wen Qing #novel spoilers #episode 32 spoilers #Jin Ling #Wen Ning #Wei Wuxian #Jin Zixuan #Jiang Cheng #Madame Yu

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ashtray-girl · 5 years

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I was reading a W.H. Auden poetry collection and among the poems there’s the opening from The Mirror and the Sea (Prospero to Ariel), which is basically Auden’s reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I found it mesmerizing in general, but this specific part made me think:

Tell then of witty angels who Come only to the beasts, Of Heirs Apparent who prefer Low dives to formal feasts; For shameless Insecurity Prays for a boot to lick, And many a sore bottom finds A sorer one to kick.

Morrissey wrote a song called Heir Apparent which, according to Mozipedia, is about him “returning home to Manchester only to spot an idealistic younger version of himself about to follow his footsteps to London with ‘wide-eyed’ dreams of success. The singer is unnerved by his heir’s seeming naiveté, warning him of the perils of an industry destined to ‘seduce your heart then smack your arse’. Yet beneath his sage cautioning, there’s the implicit jealousy of a corrupted veteran longing to relive his own lost youth, as if irritated by his handsome young successor’s ‘winning smile’.”

While I mostly agree with this interpretation, there are some other parts of this poem that make me think there’s more than meets the eye (especially if we consider that: a) Auden was gay; b) this was around the time of the Joyce trial, when Morrissey was reunited with the rest of The Smiths after a long time).

Specifically:

Inform my hot heart straight away Its treasure loves another, But turn to neutral topics then, Such as the pictures in this room, Religion or the Weather; Pure scholarship in Where and When, How Often and With Whom, Is not for Passion that must play The Jolly Elder Brother.

(according to the book’s footnotes: The Jolly Elder Brother = a platonic love)

and also:

Are you malicious by nature? I don’t know. Perhaps only incapable of doing nothing or of Being by yourself, and, for all your wry faces, May secretly be anxious and miserable without A master to need you for the work you need. Are all your tricks a test? If so, I hope you find, next time, Someone in whom you cannot spot the weakness Through which you will corrupt him with your charm. Mine you did And me you have: thanks to us both, I have broken Both of the promises I made as an apprentice; - To hate nothing and to ask nothing for its love.

Ofc this is nothing but pure speculation, but let’s say Morrissey = Prospero and Johnny = Ariel. This looks to me as if Prospero is worried about Ariel not needing him anymore, but he’s also reproaching him for tricking him with his charm and taking advantage of him.

(And here I can’t help but think of how recurring the word charm was in The Smiths’ work... This Charming Man... That part in Hand In Glove: “For the good life is out there somewhere / So stay on my arm, you little charmer.” That part in I Know It’s Over: “With your triumphs and your charms / While they’re in each other’s arms.” And also in Morrissey’s solo years, in Seasick Yet Still Docked: “Wish I had the charm to attract the one I love / But you see, I’ve got not charm”.)

Bear in mind I haven’t read The Tempest, so I’m only vaguely familiar with the original plot, but this reads to me like blatant homoerotic subtext. It’s like Prospero and Ariel were lovers, but Prospero now regrets their relationship because he feels like Ariel played him and left him with nothing.

Then there’s this part:

I am very glad I shall never Be twenty and have to go through that business again, The hours of fuss and fury, the conceit, the expense.

If we go back to Heir Apparent, that’s basically what the song’s about, even though there’s also an underlying current of nostalgia. (”You think it’s so easy, I tell you - it isn’t.”)

And then... there’s this:

Now our partnership is dissolved, I feel so peculiar: As if I had been on a drunk since I was born And suddenly now, and for the first time, am cold sober, With all my unanswered wishes and unwashed days Stacked up all round my life; as if through the ages I had dreamed About some tremendous journey I was taking, Sketching imaginary landscapes, chasms and cities, Cold walls, hot spaces, wild mouths, defeated backs, Jotting down fictional notes on secrets overheard In theatres and privies, banks and mountain inns.

If you’ve read Morrissey’s Autobiography, you will surely remember how LONG and excruciatingly detailed the part about the Joyce trial is. Like, I’m pretty sure he wrote it that way as a form of therapy for himself. Also, he was very disappointed in Johnny’s behaviour and in what he perceived was a lack of loyalty towards him but I feel like that experience, as bad as it was, must have been freeing as well. Like, imagine: you stand by your best friend no matter what but, when you’re the one struggling, they leave you to fend for yourself in order to save their own skin. As heartbreaking as that is, after a while you may start feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t need to cover for them anymore, you can go and live your own life without worrying about them, much in the same way they have. To be clear, I don’t think that the trial’s result was as unfair as Morrissey depicted it (that entire situation was a huge mess from start to finish), but it clearly affected him in a deep way, so much so that he moved to the US shortly after the final sentence was announced. (It’s interesting to note that in the poem, Prospero is also about to leave the island he shared with Ariel.)

Then there’s this part, which might be my favourite:

Can I learn to suffer Without saying something ironic or funny on suffering? I never suspected the way of truth Was a way of silence where affectionate chat Is but a robbers’ ambush and even good music In shocking taste; and you, of course, never told me. [...]

I see you starting to fidget. I forgot. To you, that doesn’t matter.

Considering the fact that Morrissey made an entire career out of writing ironic songs about his suffering, I think he would find those first two lines way too relatable. As for the rest, it feels like Prospero learned the hard way that being too frank with your own feelings can cause more trouble than relief and he resents Ariel for not warning him of this beforehand, but at the end that doesn’t matter, because Ariel has his own life to take care of and he will be fine even without Prospero. (Here, I can’t help but think of I Keep Mine Hidden: “Hate, Love and War / Force emotions to the fore / But not for me of course, of course / I keep mine hidden / But it’s so easy for you / Because you let yours flail into public view.”)

The poem ends like this:

Sing, Ariel, sing, Sweetly, dangerously Out of the sour And shiftless water, Lucidly out Of the dozing tree, Entrancing, rebuking, The raging heart With a smoother song Than this rough world, Unfeeling god.

O brilliantly, lightly, Of separation, Of bodies and death, Unanxious one, sing, To man, meaning me, As now, meaning always, In love or out, Whatever that mean, Trembling he takes The silent passage Into discomfort

It’s time for Prospero to leave his island, and for Morrissey to leave his past behind.

#the smiths #morrissey #johnny marr #marrissey #wh auden #does anyone care abt this? probably not #will that stop me from ranting into the void once again? also no.

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seamayweed · 5 years

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Second Chances

Happy Day of the Dead! :D This fic is dedicated to @illwynd, who encouraged me to write this piece and was kind enough to let me blather to them about it. The title I nabbed from their story No Return, which definitely influenced my fic and which I can only recommend if you like being stabbed in the guts with feels and angst.

Post-IW. At first it seems like a blessing when an older Thor from the future appears before Loki. But it’s not. It really is not.

Warnings: Some dub-con and angst. Not a fix-it.

Second Chances (AO3)

Loki could almost see the phantom of two little boys, one dark-haired and quiet while the other brought a shard of sun into these dark chambers with his exuberance and bright head of gold. They ran past him into the shadows now, taking with them their laughter and leaving only silence.

There was only the quiet drip of water. This place had almost seemed hallowed to him, once, with weapons like the fangs of great felled beasts that whispered of the primeval horrors that had existed even before the creation of the realms, speaking tell of their grandfather’s battles against the hideous and monstrous giants. As a child he had desired nothing more than to glean all the secrets from these ancient and forgotten treasures. Now he only wanted to burn it all down.

The true meaning of the words Odin uttered all those years ago had finally become clear to him.

Both of you were born to be kings.

As if a frost giant could ever ascend the throne of Asgard.

But it hadn’t really been a lie, had it? After all, he was Laufey’s son.

He could never be a king of Asgard, only a king of monsters.

Loki wanted to laugh. He stood over the steps where only a day ago the man who was not his father had collapsed, unable to bear the force of his changeling child‘s rage. This was the exact spot where his hands had hovered over Odin the Allfather’s fallen form, ascertaining his appendages were the right color before daring to touch the one who had raised (stolen) him. He had let the woman who was not his mother take vigil at Odin‘s bedside but did not stay long, not trusting a frost giant near someone so helpless and vulnerable. After all, there was no telling what such a beast would do. And it was only later, much, much later, lying awake in bed at night, that he allowed himself to imagine it. A thousand, perhaps a million times.

What if the blue had not faded from his skin? What if in his rage he had summoned it to the surface, unleashed that cold, icy fury that froze his veins and burned him from the inside out?

He had not been thinking. Unleashing the black miasma and poison that had been festering inside him, screaming at Odin the way the other had screamed him into submission, into silence; the way Thor sometimes emulated. But oh, he would not be silenced any longer. He could see himself now, watching with dark satisfaction as Odin failed to think up more lies or hollow justifications, growing feebler and feebler underneath the onslaught. But then his legs had buckled. And Loki could see himself, grabbing hold of those familiar, calloused hands that used to hold his own smaller ones or pat him on the head with skin the color of discolored corpses, reaching out to help but instead doing the opposite.

Loki could hear the shout, weak with the encroaching healing sleep, as Odin’s flesh turned black with frostbite, climbing up his arm, shoulder and chest and the rest of his body. In his state he would have been unable to fight it off, helpless to watch as his fingers fell off, then his arm, pieces of necrotized flesh crumbling away, his face twisting into a rictus of horror as he died a slow, torturous death.

In those last moments, Loki wondered, would he still be capable of looking at him with that treacherous, false love in his eye?

Or would he finally realize it was folly to love a wretched thing like him, abandon his facade and only look at him with pure loathing on his face? And surely, surely then would he rethink his decision to not have let that runt die all those years ago.

For even when Loki wanted to help, he couldn’t. He could only make it worse. Maybe it was in his nature. Maybe he couldn’t be good no matter how much he tried.

Not like Thor, beautiful, honorable Thor with his golden hair, which was the gold of Asgard.

He belonged underneath the sun and sky, not in this dark, hidden chamber, dusty and full of forgotten, unloved things and secrets. Not like Loki, who was just another stolen relic, meant to be stowed away in the shadows until a better use for it was found.

Thor would never be like Loki, and he would never know what it’s like to lose everything.

Even now Loki couldn’t help glancing at his hands every few seconds, as if he thought they might have changed color when he wasn’t looking. It was ridiculous. It was sickening. It made him feel like a stranger in his own skin.

But he could make it stop.

Beyond the cage of his fingers, the Casket glittered on the plinth where it had been sitting since the frost giants’ defeat.

As he walked towards it, feet whispering on the ground, the drag of his cape a susurring murmur behind him, he could hear Thor’s words echoing in his ears. It felt like he was wading through a dream.

Now! We’ll finish them together.

Was he supposed to feel some kind of kinship with this ancient and holy artefact of the Jötnar? Just because they were both left in that temple and stolen by Odin? The idea was laughable.

March into Jötunheim as you once did, teach them a lesson, break their spirits so they'll never dare try to cross our borders again!

No, he had a better idea. There was a way to end it all, put things to rights again.

He reached out, but a hand gripped his wrist. “Loki,” a wretched voice said.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath, head whipping towards the towering figure that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

His heart pounded in his chest and already, Gungnir was materializing in his palm, but then the stranger also caught his other hand and crowded him against the plinth. The edge dug painfully into his lower back and he could have had the intruder bound and immobile with barely a thought, but there was something strangely familiar about the other that halted his tongue.

His eyes flickered warily over the intruder’s face, the breath catching in his chest when he realized who it was. He would recognize those features anywhere. And how couldn’t he? Even if you closed your eyes against it, you wouldn’t be able to block out the sun, shining bright red behind your lids.

“Thor?”

Thor let out a ragged breath that sounded almost like a hitch. “Loki.” His name almost seemed like the only thing the other could say and... were those tears glinting wetly on his cheeks?

“How are you here?” Loki took in the heterochromatic eyes, the close-shaven hair, the slightly older, worn features. The conspicuous lack of Mjölnir. If he had managed to regain his powers, then where was his hammer? “What is going on?” he asked, a hard knot of dread already forming in his stomach.

“I’m from the future.” Those mismatched eyes were fixed on his face with unsettling intensity, and Loki would have stepped back if he was not already trapped. Icy cold radiated from the Casket behind him, oddly reassuring against this new uncharted threat.

“I’m here to tell you,” the stranger with his not-brother’s face continued, “that you are right. You were always right. I was just an arrogant and war-hungry boy, unfit for the throne. You are so much better suited for kingship than I was or ever will be, brother.”

The reflexive protest that Thor was not his brother died on his tongue. Loki stopped and stared. “What?”

“It’s true. How could I ever protect a realm if I couldn’t even protect my loved ones?” There was an ugly twist to his mouth, one that Loki had never seen on Thor’s face before. “And even in that, I failed.”

Loki inhaled sharply, the implications making his head spin. “What do you mean?”

Thor only shook his head, the wetness of his cheeks becoming even more apparent as it caught the light at different angles. “It doesn’t matter. None of that will ever come to pass now. Brother, I came here to tell you that I was sorry. I never appreciated or saw you even though you were always by my side and supported me. I ignored your advice, thought of myself as better than you because of my position as the crown prince and due to everyone’s praises of me. I was self-centered, vain and cared only for battle glory and fame. I took you for granted and constantly put you down even though we were equals. You have always been my equal, brother, and I was a fool for not realizing that sooner. For not seeing how much pain you were in, because of me, because of father and mother and so many others in Asgard. I’m sorry, Loki. I’m sorry for being so stupid and blind.”

For a moment, Loki was rendered speechless, almost dazed. But when he shook himself out of his state, the blinding rage was more potent than ever before. He grabbed Thor’s jaw roughly, nails digging into the salt-sticky skin. “Oh, so you are sorry? You are sorry now? You think you can just walk in here and I’ll instantly forgive you like everyone else?”

Ah, such pretty words. So pretty and utterly meaningless.

Loki wanted to laugh. Did Thor think to manipulate Loki this way? To use him, as Odin had planned to use him? Yet inwardly he also reeled. Such deep insight was unexpected, let alone from his not-brother whom he had only ever known as a thoughtless oaf not even a full two days ago.

“No, never.” Thor’s brow creased as though pained, and even that expression looked wrong on him, somehow. “Please, please let me make it up to you. Let me make it right again. I was wrong, so wrong.”

Loki let go of his jaw with a sneer, heart racing and mouth feeling far too dry. “How?”

Thor looked at him then; looked at him like he could flay him open with his eyes alone and peer into the deepest, darkest corners of his soul.

It made something quiver inside Loki, but he couldn’t know. He couldn’t. It was one of Loki’s most well-kept secrets. Now more than ever it felt like they were the only things he was made of. Maybe that was all there ever had been to him, just the shape of a person wrapped around all the things he could never say. And if they were revealed, so too would Loki the person unravel.

That too-intense gaze softened and Thor smiled fondly, sadly. “Oh how I have missed you, brother.”

His hand gripped the side of Loki’s neck like a branding, thumb finding the groove at the base of his ear like second nature. Then that searing hot mouth covered his and he was lost. All he could do was hold on to Thor’s shoulders, sliding along his bare arms with sweaty, shaking hands, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open in equal parts shock and awe.

He made a soft, wounded noise like he was dying. Maybe he was. Maybe this was what it was like to die in the heart of a star, to become plasma, heat and stardust.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. There was only Thor, like a force of nature, unstoppable, and Loki was a fool, a fool for thinking he could ever resist him.

Thor made a similarly broken sound that Loki had never heard before and only seemed to press closer, impossible as that was, taking the opportunity to fit their mouths together better and slip his tongue inside. Loki moaned, long and loud and needy, like it had been punched out of him. His breaths came in short, fast pants and he was shaking so violently he was sure he would fall apart the moment Thor wasn’t there to cage him in with his body and hold him together. Thor was touching him everywhere, with clever fingers that knew their way around his many layers, digging underneath his armor to get at the tender insides, leaving a trail of fire with lips and tongue and teeth until Loki felt like he could drown in the heat of him.

“You are so young,” that dangerous, beautiful mouth whispered into the skin of his throat, pressing impossibly tender kisses into his racing pulse point. His fingers seemed to shake as they caressed the base of Loki’s neck without ever closing, half-reverent, half-fearful. “So beautiful.” He began weeping again. “How could I have not seen this before? You are the most beautiful thing in my life.”

Loki was so hard it hurt, so hard it brought tears to his eyes and had him mindlessly rutting up against Thor’s hip, cock still trapped painfully in his pants and Thor’s own erection a line of heat digging into his thigh. It was too much. It was not enough. He wanted to hurt Thor, scream and lash out at him. He wanted to pull him closer, taste every inch of his golden skin until he was left a trembling mess like he was. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes against the sensations. Loki turned his head to the side, away, to put some distance between them, so he could have just a moment of reprieve and breathe, but a strangled sound escaped his throat instead when Thor cupped the bulge in his pants, massaging him through the leather.

Loki’s hand snapped out to curl around Thor’s wrist, his grip white-knuckled, hoping to stop the motions, but the fingers continued groping him, mercilessly. In response Loki tightened his grip, grinding the bones together.

Against Loki’s ear, Thor’s words were only puffs of warm air as he said, “Let me, let me.”

It was begging, a plea, and a violent shudder wracked down Loki’s spine. Something dark and exhilarated unfurled in his chest as he drank in the way Thor trembled, like the very thought of stopping was too much for him to bear, like he would die if he was not allowed the privilege of Loki’s skin. It was unfamiliar, strange. It brought him that much closer to the precipice.

“Beg me,” Loki bit out, even though he couldn’t form even one coherent thought, felt like he was melting, melting against the miniature sun that was Thor. Even so, there was something mad bubbling up inside him, almost like laughter, vicious and dark. “If you want me so much, then beg me for it. Beg me to let you touch me.”

“Of course, Loki. Anything. I would give you anything for that. Please, brother. Let me continue, let me prove my love and devotion to you.”

“Anything?” Loki did laugh then, sharply. “Even the throne? What about your little mortals you are so fond of, hm? What if I wanted to kill them? Would you give me their lives? What about that woman you have grown so close to?”

Thor only shook his head, much to his surprise. “I don’t care for the throne. It’s yours. And if you want the mortals, I will deliver them directly to you. But please, please brother, don’t tell me to stop.”

The easy nonchalance was… mildly disturbing, but it was only right, wasn’t it? It was only Loki’s due. At the same time it made his blood boil that Thor could so easily and carelessly throw away so many of the things Loki had always coveted, subsisting only on shadows and scraps. Even after all this time, he hadn’t changed. He was still that same spoiled, arrogant prince who took for granted the things others could only envy him for. But that was alright. That was what Loki was there for, ungrateful fool that Thor was. Loki would teach him how to be better. He would teach him his place.

“Who do you belong to?” he hissed, grabbing Thor by that beautiful, golden throat and dragging him closer.

“You,” Thor gasped, pupils blown wide, two black holes leeching the rest of the light from his irises. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Loki.”

His heart was pounding, the blood rushing in his ears, something like giddiness making him feel jittery in his skin. The power was addictive and he thought he could easily get used to this.

“Alright, you may… continue.” Loki let go with a disdainful push, while everything inside him lay taut and trembling with anticipation.

“Thank you,” Thor said, voice wretched and breathless and full of raw adoration.

Then his hand was back on Loki‘s crotch and he ground the heel of his palm into his cock in small, tight circles. Loki tried to control his breathing, but what came out instead were half-aborted, stuttering gasps. His skin prickled, like someone had lit a fire underneath the surface. It felt like he was burning alive.

Thor all but brimmed with need. It radiated from the stoop of his shoulders, calling to mind something mangy and starved, to the way he pressed himself to Loki’s form, close and intimate and claustrophobic, trying to maximize the points of contact between their bodies to the extent of hindering the movements of his own hand. His skin felt clammy to the touch, and Loki wondered if it was possible for Thor to infect him with the same sickness. Maybe Loki was already infected and they were both doomed.

Licking his slightly parted lips, Thor reached into Loki’s open breeches. His hand, big, warm and calloused, curled around his shaft and pulled him out. The cold air hit his skin, almost painful on his oversensitive and heated flesh.

Thor swiped his thumb over the head of his cock and the friction was almost too much. Loki hissed, teeth clenched tight, nearly lurching out of Thor’s grip. Thor waited a moment, then he began stroking, finding a rhythm as he watched Loki closely, learning what he liked, what made him jerk the hardest or moan the loudest, for once paying his full attention to Loki, for once the one who looked at Loki for direction, who listened and tried to understand instead of assuming he knew best already.

He added a twist to his wrist on the upstroke just so and Loki’s head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, mouth going slack and falling open. There was no air. It was like there was a vice around his chest and throat, crushing him. The thin skin of his lids twitched restlessly and his hands clenched white-knuckled around the plinth behind him, threatening to crack the stone. He could still feel Thor’s eyes on him, hungry and intent, both frightening and intoxicating at once, devouring him whole. It couldn’t have been more than two strokes when he came, the orgasm feeling like it had been yanked out of him, too-intense and too-soon, leaving the muscles of his abdomen cramping and aching for a long time after, as though Thor had gutted him open, like a fish, removing his entrails and cleaning him out.

It was too painful to be called pleasure and there was a fine tremor in his limbs, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. The plinth was the only thing holding him up. It was everything he had ever wanted, and for a moment he wallowed in it.

For a moment, there was peace and something that could have almost been called satisfaction.

A touch on his cock jerked him out of his repose. His eyes snapped open and he tried to push Thor off him. “Stop, you oaf. I’m sensitive.”

But Thor was like a mountain and just as immovable, his mouth hot on the side of Loki’s neck, his hand fondling Loki’s soft cock. Loki hissed at the overstimulation, putting a hand into the middle of Thor’s chest, feeling panic welling up inside him, something ugly rising to the surface and souring the earlier pleasantness.

“No,” he repeated, but it was as though Thor couldn’t hear him. “No, stop!”

It wasn’t until he reinforced his words with magic that Thor relented, staggering back and looking at Loki bewildered and almost drunkenly, as though he had been in a trance.

Loki sneered and slapped him harshly across the face, though his heart still pounded. “You forget your place. Where do you belong?”

Thor looked stunned for a moment, then he slowly lowered down to his knees. His breathing was slightly elevated from their brief struggle and the hard bulge was clearly visible between his spread thighs. “I know my place. My brother.” He looked straight at Loki, stabbing right through him. “My king.”

A thrill went through Loki at the title. Even now he could hardly believe his eyes. Thor, willingly kneeling at his feet, ready to serve him.

But outwardly Loki’s expression did not change. He continued to look down at Thor contemptuously, nudging his boot forward so it rested on the bulge between Thor’s spread thighs. Loki pressed down. A hoarse cry escaped Thor’s throat and Loki pressed down harder in response, painfully, earning a wounded noise. Wild eyes skittered across Loki’s countenance, but he would find no mercy there.

“Do you now?” Loki asked, smooth as silk. He waited a beat, then lowered the pressure until it was barely there.

He whispered a simple spell to clean himself and did up the laces of his breeches, taking his time as he did so and without lifting his foot. When he was done, he pressed down again, crushingly. This time, a full-body shudder went through Thor’s body and the tendons in his neck went taut. But he didn’t make a sound, even as he trembled. Good boy. So he could learn after all. Loki almost smiled.

It felt like a dream, but Loki‘s dreams were never that nice.

There was always a catch.

Loki removed his boot and walked around Thor’s kneeling form in a slow circle, watching the long stretch of his bare neck as he tipped his head back submissively. So many things he could do to him and this Thor would just let him.

“What about the frost giants, then?” Loki said, unable to help himself. “I mean to destroy that race of monsters, once and for all, and steal the glory you so eagerly sought for yourself. What would you say to that? Would you stand by my side still and follow my every command?” Just as Loki had done so many times, a quiet shadow who assisted the other in his adventures, no matter how foolhardy or dangerous, saving Thor and his companion’s necks time and time again without a word of thanks for his efforts, which were merely brushed off with the easy dismissal of tricks.

Thor’s spine straightened, the hesitation clear in his eyes. “I’m not sure if that would be wise.”

Loki smiled scornfully. Of course not. How could he have ever expected otherwise? But Thor’s next words froze his insides to ice:

“I-I know, Loki. I know.” Loki’s pulse stuttered and all he could think was, no. Another secret carved out of him, another stitch unravelled. Soon, there would not be enough left to hold him together and he would break apart at the seams. “That you are not Asgardian. That you are a… frost giant. It matters not to me. It changes nothing. You are still my brother and I love you.”

His eyes were full of such aching sincerity and sorrow that Loki snarled. “You know nothing. Do not presume to speak of things you do not understand. And wasn’t it you who said that we should march to Jötunheim and teach them a lesson? Wasn’t it you who took us to the home of the giants, seeking to wipe them out? And you want to tell me that nothing has changed?”

Loki was screaming by the end, but he didn’t care. His fists shook in rage and he took a deep breath so he would not strike Thor down on the spot.

Thor reacted at once, bowing forward, prostrating himself before Loki and forehead nearly touching the tip of his boots.

“Forgive me, brother. Once more I have spoken out of turn. You are right, of course. I know nothing and was arrogant to suggest even for a moment that I did. We will march to Jötunheim, if that is what you want. And under your leadership, I will kill the frost giants, as many as you like. Please,” he begged, voice shaking. “I would do anything. I wasn’t lying when I said that. Of course you are right to want to slay them. The Jötnar are disgusting, mindless beasts and nothing like you. Just tell me when and where, and I will slaughter them like cattle, bath in their blood—but not excessively so. The glory and fame of the victory would remain yours still, always. Never doubt my devotion to you, for I am yours to command, my king.”

Loki abruptly deflated at the declaration, at the same time recognizing the familiar phrasing, an echo of a different time, once, before their trip to the accursed realm of the giants, before the coronation, when Thor had smiled at him, marking him with that familiar, hot iron touch on Loki’s neck that never failed to burn his flesh in the shape of those broad fingers.

And yet he also felt uneasy at the simple acquiescence, the fever-bright fervency in Thor’s eyes. It was off in a way he couldn’t place. He had known Thor to be bloodthirsty at times, itching for a brawl or to feel the crunch of bone beneath his hammer, but this seemed… darker, somehow. Unfamiliar and almost repulsive.

For a moment, it made him question his decision to obliterate Jötunheim, wipe it away like an annoying stain. A sense of dissonance sliced through him. Did he look like that when he had confronted Odin with the terrible truth he had learned, going on and on about stolen relics and monsters that parents told their children about at night?

Loki inhaled sharply through his teeth. Finally, he realized what it was that stung his nostrils.

It was the reek of despair.

And how could he not recognize it? Not when he knew it so intimately, so deeply; not when it had been his nursemaid for as long as he could remember.

Something ugly reared its head inside him as the full implications hit him, and he instinctively knew that it hadn’t been him who had done the deed; someone had dared to go and break Thor first, even before Loki could, robbing him of that pleasure. Even though they had no right.

Loki fletched his teeth and grabbed Thor by his too-short hair. “Who did this to you?” he hissed into Thor’s face. “Who dared to break you?“

Loki wasn’t angry. He was furious.

Something twisted in his chest, something painful that made his heart pound and the blood rush in his ears. Looking down into that tear-streaked face, he wondered how he had not noticed sooner. It stared him right in the face, yet it was as though he couldn’t grasp it.

He had never thought that Thor could look like this.

But even though it hadn’t been by his hand, this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Thor grovelling at his feet, the glory and gilt torn from his flesh.

The monster inside him slithered its way to the surface and an ugly smile twisted his lips. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

The words had barely left his tongue, yet he wondered why they echoed so hollow. Something uneasy churned in his gut, but he dismissed it easily.

There was still his own Thor, trapped on Midgard and safe among the mortals. Loki made a mental note to watch this timeline’s Thor more closely, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with the older version.

He caressed the other’s jaw, feeling him shiver, but then the doors opened and a guard entered. Loki felt the questioning gaze as the woman glanced between this wearier, older Thor and himself, but he ignored it. “I thought I told you that no one was to disturb me.”

“My apologies, your majesty.” Loki thought he might never tire from hearing himself addressed that way. “But esteemed Heimdall seeks your audience. He said it was urgent.”

Before Loki could answer, Heimdall himself came rushing into the room past the other guard who tried to stop him to no avail. The blatant show of disrespect turned the corners of Loki’s mouth down and he let go of Thor’s jaw roughly in annoyance. Yet when he turned to Heimdall, there was a pleasant smile ready on his lips.

“Whatever could be so urgent that would make loyal Heimdall of all people barge in on his king without permission?”

Heimdall of course did not bother to explain himself, not when it came to Loki, especially not when it came to Loki. But he did falter when he saw the man kneeling on the ground and recognized his features. A slow, dangerous smile curved Loki’s lips and he ran fingers through Thor’s hair, like he would a pet, except he would never treat a pet like this, alternatively stroking or tugging the short strands. It had to be painful and Thor probably did not deserve his ire in this particular moment, but he had earned it and more of what Loki could dole out many times over, so it was fair all in all.

“Speak. You try my patience with your silence or have you already forgotten the urgent news you rushed here for? It is unfortunate, but it seems that you have grown senile in your old age.” Loki almost snickered at the look on Heimdall’s face.

The gatekeeper shook himself out of it, face growing grim, but when was that ever not the case? “Your majesty, this is no joking matter. Something terrible has transpired that has never happened before and which unsettles me deeply.”

“I’m not the one here who treats his king like a joke.” Loki continued playing with Thor’s head like a cat with a ball of yarn. “I’m no one’s fool, Heimdall. Speak now. It is quite unlike you to stall.”

Despite the fact that he was speaking to Loki, Heimdall’s eyes had not once left Thor’s form and his maltreatment at Loki’s hands. “It is your brother.”

Loki paused for just a moment. “What about him?”

“It was not long ago that I stood vigil at my usual post and saw the prince. Now his countenance escapes even my far-reaching sight. For all senses and purposes, he is gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“There was nothing unusual about it. One moment he was on Midgard among the mortals who had found him. The next he was gone, as though he had merely vanished into thin air.”

There was a noise in Loki‘s head as he stared down at the older Thor, who was trying to bite back pained whimpers. It was a noise as though he had fallen into space, all air and sound being swallowed in the vacuum that opened up inside him.

“What do you know about this?“ he demanded.

But this broken Thor only looked up at him with wet doe‘s eyes. “I don’t know anything. Brother, you must believe me—”

Loki let go of him with numb fingers. “Watch him,“ he barked at the guards. “If he manages to escape, I will have your heads.”

He ignored Thor’s protests that he would never try such a thing, turning instead to Heimdall. His eyes were keen and watchful, and Loki knew that he must have come to his own conclusions about Thor‘s twin. Hating what he was about to do, Loki said, “Show me the place where you last saw him.“

For a moment Loki shared Heimdall‘s vision, saw Thor, freshly mortal and vulnerable but hale as he smiled at the mortal woman. He spoke to her, but then in the middle of a sentence he simply—vanished. There wasn’t even a whisper to mark his disappearance. He simply faded into nothing, like a ghost. Loki shivered. But the sensation of another in his head set his teeth on edge and he soon broke the connection.

Without waiting for Heimdall, Loki closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was on Midgard in the place he had just seen, the cramped, sad little space that Thor‘s mortal called her home.

Riding to the Bifröst would have been too slow and Loki was well-versed in navigating Yggdrasil‘s branches besides. It was easy, if you knew how—you just weren’t supposed to look too close, lest you be led astray by lure lights or lose your mind.

“Who are you?”

Loki turned around at the voice. It was the mortal who made pretty eyes at Thor, like all the others who had followed him around on Asgard like mindless sheep in the hopes of receiving even one scrap of his attention. Pathetic. His eyes dropped to the pan in her hand and he scoffed. Did she really think she could hurt him with that?

“Are you the one who took Thor?” Despite her obvious fear, she did not back down. It was almost admirable.

Loki put on his best charming smile, though his eyes remained cold. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about that. I was wondering where my brother could have gone off to.” A small lie but a necessary one, no matter how much it grated on him. Thor was not his brother. He never was.

“Your brother?” There was a spark of recognition in her eyes. “Then you must be Loki.” It sounded almost disbelieving.

Ah, so Thor had talked about him. This time Loki’s smile was more genuine. “Come on, say it. Ask me.”

Her eyes were bright with fear and she took a shuddering breath in preparation. “Are you,“ her breath hitched, “a god?”

“Yes,” Loki hissed, drawing dark satisfaction from the way she recoiled from him. “I am a god, a being far beyond your feeble mortal understanding—just like my brother. You were the only one around when he went missing, so tell me: Where did he go?”

The mortal only shook her head, hugging herself and staring at the ground. “I don’t—I don’t know. He was there and then he was just… gone. At first I couldn’t believe what I had seen, how someone could talk with you, laugh with you, then suddenly there’s this empty space where they used to be. It was like he had never been there to begin with, except I could still see the crumbs on the plate, the rag he had picked up to wipe the table with. He had wanted to wash the dishes. I told him no, he already made breakfast, but he insisted.” She bit her lip, noticing she was rambling. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. “We went looking everywhere, but we can’t find him.”

That noise returned. All the air being sucked into a vacuum. For a moment, his vision went blank. When it returned, the mortal was dangling in the air, choking in his grasp as his fingers wrapped around her delicate little throat. “Where. Is. He.”

Her eyes bulged, like a bug’s, and her fingers scrabbled desperately at his hand, nails breaking against his skin. “I-I don’t know,” was all she managed to press out, thin and reedy.

She was less than useless.

Blinding rage ate his vision and the urge to kill her consumed his entire being. His hand shook with the force of it and for a moment he truly considered snuffing out her puny mortal life. It wouldn’t bring his brother back, but oh how it would bring silence into the cacophony in his head, if only for an instant.

Loki sneered and released his grip. She collapsed on the ground in a heap where she coughed painfully, spit speckling the ground. Loki turned away in disgust.

That was when her other mortal companions arrived.

“Jane? Oh my god.“ The dark-haired woman rushed to her friend‘s side. She glared at Loki. “What the fuck is wrong with you?“

Everything, Loki did not say. Everything had gone wrong, so very, very wrong. He smiled.

“I could kill you. Every single one of you. I could decimate this town on a mere whim.“ It would be easy. He wouldn’t even have to do it himself, simply send the Destroyer, let it burn the town to ashes while he watched from his throne on Asgard. Punishing them for Thor’s disappearance. But what would be the point? Everything seemed so senseless now. “You should be grateful that I am even letting you live at all.“

And with those words he was back in the space between Yggdrasil‘s branches. Time was malleable here and if you weren’t careful you could lose up to thousands of years wandering this labyrinthine space. But Loki knew his way and before long he was back on Asgard, with the other Thor.

The guards startled at his sudden reappearance but were too well-trained to say anything about it. They must have seen the look on his face because they immediately filed out of the room without him even needing to open his mouth, and then it was only him and Thor.

“What have you done?” Loki snarled, grabbing Thor’s throat and leaning forward so their faces were only inches apart. From up close, he looked even less like the Thor he knew. “My Thor is gone and his disappearance coincides strangely with your arrival. Speak.”

Thor only shook his head. “I did not foresee this outcome. I swear it was not my intention and I’m sorry for what it’s worth, brother.”

“Don’t call me that. You are not my brother. I only have one and you are not him. For that matter, I am not your brother either.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But… you could also look at it like this: I did you a favor. He didn’t appreciate you. I do.” Thor looked up from underneath his lashes, something glittering in his eyes that chilled Loki to the bone. “And you wanted to kill him anyway, didn’t you?”

Loki recoiled in shock, letting go of the other and staggering back as though he had been struck.

He now realized why everything had felt subtly wrong, right from the start. It was like staring into a broken mirror, pieces of himself refracted back at him, making everything seem over-familiar in a face that should have never learned the shape of those jagged edges and how to cut yourself on them.

It was sickening, downright revolting. Loki couldn’t look away from it.

“In my timeline,” Thor went on, “you sent the Destroyer to Midgard. I was still only a mortal. When he struck me, I’m sure I died. It was only the return of Mjölnir along with my powers that saved me.”

Loki felt like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs. Had he? Would he? He may have fantasized about it sometimes, in his darkest moments, but would he actually kill Thor? His chest constricted.

“You don’t understand. He is mine.” Loki’s to love and hurt and do with whatever he pleased. He nearly said was, like his Thor was dead already, but it couldn’t be true. A world without his brother. It was untenable—impossible. Loki couldn’t wrap his mind around the mere concept. “You had no right, absolutely no right at all to take him from me.”

Loki’s gaze dropped to the ground, seeing nothing. But then this Thor’s strange words from the beginning came back to him and his lips stretched in realization, slow and wide and terrible. It was clear to him now.

“You wanted to make things even, didn’t you?” Loki said. “Just because you killed your Loki.”

Thor looked like he had been cracked open. “I didn’t kill him.”

Loki only laughed bitterly, overcome with the urge to hurt this Thor the way he had hurt Loki, so he twisted the knife, deeper and deeper, wanting to see blood and the lurid pink of flesh. “No, of course you didn’t. You only failed to protect him, didn’t you? Failed him in so many ways, in all the ways that mattered, and now you are trying to start over with me. By the Norns, you disgust me.“

His eyes were hard when he said, “Tell me everything about the future. Don’t even think of lying to me.”

After some initial hesitation, Thor complied. He told the tale of how he had lost everything in slow, halting sentences, but pressed on, never stopping for long, as though to punish himself. Loki’s lip curled. How quaint.

By the end, Thor was outright weeping. In contrast, Loki only felt a spreading cold inside him. It expanded outwards from his core, bit teeth into his limbs and echoed all the way to his fingertips. It was colder than winter, colder even than Jötunheim‘s tundras.

So that was how he would end. At the hands of a madman, laying his life down for someone who may at one point have tried but had not truly accepted him until he was dead and it was far, far too late. There would be no glory for him, no mercy. He would go out with only a croak, pitiful and desperate, and nothing else to mark his passing.

Maybe it was a fitting end for a Jötunn runt who had been left to die in a temple, who should have never been born in the first place. And maybe that was how he would always end up, no matter how much he screamed at the world or tried to fight his fate.

But he rejected it.

Maybe that was what happened in the other world, but it wasn’t his. Just like this Thor wasn’t his.

Looking at this other, diminished version of his brother, Loki realized that he was a fool to think he ever had a chance of breaking Thor, or that any other outside force ever had a chance for that matter. It was only Thor himself who could do the deed, who could betray all his values and everything he ever stood for, hollowing himself out.

Loki remembered Mjölnir, how it was forged from the heart of a dying star. It was said to have been akin to a primordial giant, burning red and hot, a gigantic sphere of fire too bright to even look at without going blind, shining with an intensity thousands of times that of the sun, and that countless dwarves were sacrificed in the hammer‘s making. Had it been allowed to remain undisturbed, it would have surely exploded in a brilliant supernova at the end of its natural life cycle, painting the galaxy in iridescent colors before gravity became too much and it collapsed in on itself, giving birth to a supermassive black hole capable of devouring even worlds.

Thor was like the husk of a star that had gone dead and cold. Its life should have ended in a bright supernova, but against all expectations it stopped burning and its nucleus merely cooled down, fire fading to embers to ashes, into silence. In the end, a cold star was nothing but a rock.

It was startling to realize that this Thor would fit right next to him in the Vault, as a reminder of some past glory, the relic of a fallen hero.

Faint traces of hysteria edged Loki’s thoughts and he was suddenly hit by a dizzying and overpowering urge, by the sheer, raw need to see Thor. His brother and not this imposter who wore his face all wrong.

Loki felt exhausted, all of a sudden.

“Where is he? Where is my brother?“ he asked wearily. In this moment, Loki wanted nothing more than to see Thor, with an intensity that brought tears to his eyes. Nothing else mattered right now. Not the throne, not the countless slights that he had endured over all these years; not even his frost giant heritage.

In this moment, all he wanted was Thor.

“I‘m here,” the imposter said, with those limpid doe‘s eyes, rocks that had lost all their shine. “I will never leave you.“

Loki didn’t even have the strength left to say anything scathing in response to that.

His Thor was still out there. He had to be. But what if he wasn’t?

Then he would be stuck with this broken version indefinitely.

And this Thor may not be the one he wanted, but maybe he was the one that Loki deserved. A monster for a monster. It would be only fitting.

His thoughts unwittingly cycled back to the words he uttered to the mortals. Of how he was a god and could do whatever he liked, whenever he liked. Of how powerful and almighty he was and they should be grateful for his mercy.

Loki laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed and didn’t stop until he was retching, the tears flowing down his cheeks into the bowl of his mouth, burning wherever they touched, burning his eyes and lips and tongue, like snake venom.

#thorki #fic: second chances #i tried #i‘ll add the rest and a read more in the morning but somehow it‘s not working right now #you can also read the rest on ao3 #edit: ok i added the read more hhhh enjoy #seamayweed fic #seamayweed stuff

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torixus · 4 years

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History of St. Pachomius a Bishop who Founded Communal Monasticism

Though St. Antony be justly esteemed the institutor of the cenobitic life, or that of religious persons living in community under a certain rule, St. Pachomius was the first who drew up a monastic rule in writing. He was born in Upper Thebais about the year 292, of idolatrous parents, and was educated in their blind superstition, and in the study of the Egyptian sciences. From his infancy, he was meek and modest, and had an aversion to the profane ceremonies used by the infidels in the worship of their idols. Being about twenty years of age, he was pressed into the emperor's troops, probably the tyrant Maximinus, who was master of Egypt from the year 310; and in 312 made great levies to carry on a war against Licinius and Constantine. He was, with several other recruits, put on board a vessel that was falling down the river. They arrived in the evening at Thebes, or Diospolis, the capital of Thebais, a city in which dwelt many Christians. Those true disciples of Christ sought every opportunity of relieving and comforting all that were in distress, and were moved with compassion towards the recruits, who were kept close confined, and very ill-treated. The Christians of this city showed them the same tenderness as if they had been their own children; took all possible care of them, and supplied them liberally with money and necessaries.

Such an uncommon example of disinterested virtue made a great impression on the mind of Pachomius. He inquired who their pious benefactors were, and when he heard that they believed in Jesus Christ the only Son of God, and that in the hope of a reward in the world to come, they labored continually to do good to all mankind, he found kindled in his heart a great love of so holy a law, and an ardent desire of serving the God whom these good men adored. The next day, when he was continuing his journey down the river, the remembrance of this purpose strengthened him to resist a carnal temptation. From his infancy he had been always a lover of chastity and temperance but the example of the Christians had made those virtues appear to him far more amiable, and in a new light.

After the overthrow of Maximinus, his forces were disbanded. Pachomius was no sooner returned home, but he repaired to a town in Thebais, in which there was a Christian church, and there he entered his name among the catechumens, or such as were preparing for baptism; and having gone through the usual course of preliminary instructions and practices with great attention and fervor, he received that sacrament at Chenoboscium, with great sentiments of piety and devotion. From his first acquaintance with our holy faith at Thebes, he had always made this his prayer: "O God, Creator of heaven and earth, cast on me an eye of pity: deliver me from my miseries: teach me the true way of pleasing you, and it shall be the whole employment, and most earnest study of my life to serve you, and to do your will." The perfect sacrifice of his heart to God, was the beginning of his eminent virtue. The grace by which God reigns in a soul, is a treasure infinitely above all price. We must give all to purchase it. To desire it faintly is to undervalue it. He is absolutely disqualified and unfit for so great a blessing, and unworthy ever to receive it, who seeks it by halves, or who does not esteem all other things as dung that he may gain Christ.

When Pachomius was baptized, he began seriously to consider with himself how he should most faithfully fulfil the obligations which he had contracted, and attain to the great end to which he aspired. There is danger even in fervor itself. It is often an artifice of the devil to make a novice undertake too much at first, and run indiscreetly beyond his strength. If the sails gather too much wind, the vessel is driven ahead, falls on some rock and splits. Eagerness is a symptom of secret passion, not of true virtue, where it is wilful and impatient at advice. Pachomius was far from so dangerous a disposition, because his desire was pure, therefore his first care was to find a skilful conductor.

Hearing that a venerable old man named Palemon, served God in the desert in great perfection, he sought him out, and with great earnestness begged to live under his direction. The hermit having set before him the difficulties and austerities of his way of life, which several had already attempted in vain to follow, advised him to make a trial of his strength and fervor in some monastery; and, to give him a sketch of the difficulties he had to encounter in the life he aspired to, he added: "Consider, my son, that my diet is only bread and salt: I drink no wine, use no oil, watch one half of the night, spending that time in singing psalms or in meditating on the holy scriptures, and sometimes pass the whole night without sleeping." Pachomius was amazed at this account, but not discouraged. He thought himself able to undertake every thing that might be a means to render his soul pleasing to God, and readily promised to observe whatever Palemon should think fit to enjoin him; who thereupon admitted him into his cell, and gave him the monastic habit. Pachomius was by his example enabled to bear solitude, and an acquaintance with himself. They sometimes repeated together the psalter, at other times they exercised themselves in manual labors (which they accompanied with interior prayer,) with a view to their own subsistence and the relief of the poor. Pachomius prayed above all things, for perfect purity of heart, that being disengaged from all secret attachment to creatures, he might love God with all his affections. And to destroy the very roots of all inordinate passions, it was his first study to obtain the most profound humility, and perfect patience and meekness. He prayed often with his arms stretched out in the form of a cross; which posture was then much used in the church. He was in the beginning often drowsy at the night office. Palemon used to rouse him, and say: "Labor and watch, my dear Pachomius, lest the enemy overthrow you and ruin all your endeavors." Against this weakness and temptation he enjoined him, on such occasions, to carry sand from one place to another, till his drowsiness was overcome. By this means the novice strengthened himself in the habit of watching. Whatever instructions he read or heard, he immediately endeavored fervently to reduce to practice.

One Easter-day Palemon bade the disciple prepare a dinner for that great festival. Pachomius took a little oil, and mixed it with the salt, which he pounded small, and added a few wild herbs, which they were to eat with their bread. The holy old man having made his prayer, came to table; but at the sight of the oil he struck himself on the forehead, and said, with tears: "My Saviour was crucified, and shall I indulge myself so far as to eat oil?" Nor could he be prevailed upon to taste it.

Pachomius used sometimes to go into a vast uninhabited desert, on the banks of the Nile, called Tabenna, in the diocese of Tentyra, a city between the Great and Little Diospolis. While he was there one day in prayer, he heard a voice which commanded him to build a monastery in that place, in which he should receive those who should be sent by God to serve him faithfully. He received, about the same time, from an angel who appeared to him, certain instructions relating to a monastic life.. Pachomius going back to Palemon, imparted to him this vision; and both of them coming to Tabenna, built there a little cell towards the year 325, about twenty years after St. Antony had founded his first monastery. After a short time, Palemon returned to his former dwelling, having promised his disciple a yearly visit, but he died soon after, and is honored in the Roman Martyrology on the 11th of January.

Pachomius received first his own eldest brother John, and after his death many others, so that he enlarged his house; and the number of his monks in a short time amounted to a hundred. Their clothing was of rough linen; that of St. Pachomius himself often haircloth. He passed fifteen years without ever lying down, taking his short rest sitting on a stone. He even grudged himself the least time which he allowed to necessary sleep, because he wished he could have been able to employ all his moments in the actual exercises of divine love. From the time of his conversion he never ate a full meal. By his rule, the fasts and tasks of work were proportioned to every one's strength; though all are together in one common refectory, in silence, with their cowl or hood drawn over their heads, that they might not see one another at their meals. Their habit was a tunic of white linen without sleeves, with a cowl of the same stuff; they wore on their shoulders a white goatskin, called a Melotes. They received the holy communion on the first and last days of every week. Novices were tried with great severity before they were admitted to the habit, the taking of which was then deemed the monastic profession, and attended with the vows. St. Pachomius preferred none of his monks to holy orders, and his monasteries were often served by priests from abroad, though he admitted priests, when any presented themselves, to the habit, and he employed them in the functions of their ministry. All his monks were occupied in various kinds of manual labor: no moment was allowed for idleness. The saint, with the greatest care, comforted and served the sick himself. Silence was so strictly observed at Tabenna, that a monk, who wanted any thing necessary, was only to ask for it by signs. In going from one place to another, the monks were ordered always to meditate on some passage of the holy scripture, and sing psalms at their work. The sacrifice of the mass was offered for every monk that died, as we read in the life of St. Pachomius. His rule was translated into Latin by St. Jerome, and is still extant. He received the sickly and weak, rejecting none for the want of corporal strength, being desirous to conduct to heaven all souls which had fervor to walk in the paths of perfection. He built six other monasteries in Thebias, not far asunder, and from the year 336, chose often to reside in that of Pabau, or Pau, near Thebes, in its territory, though not far from Tabenna, situated in the neighboring province of Diospolis, also in Thebais. Pabau became a more numerous and more famous monastery than Tabenna itself. By the advice of Serapion, bishop of Tentyra, he built a church in a village for the benefit of the poor shepherds, in which for some time he performed the office of Lector, reading to the people the word of God with admirable fervor; in which function he appeared rather like an angel than a man. He converted many infidels, and zealously opposed the Arians, but could never be induced by his bishop to receive the holy order of priesthood. In 333, he was favored with a visit of St. Athanasius at Tabenna. His sister, at a certain time, came to his monastery desiring to see him; but he sent her word at the gate, that no woman could be allowed to enter his enclosure, and that she ought to be satisfied with hearing that he was alive. However, it being her desire to embrace a religious state, he built her a nunnery on the other side of the Nile, which was soon filled with holy virgins. St. Pachomius going one day to Pane, one of his monasteries, met the funeral procession of a tepid monk deceased. Knowing the wretched state in which he died and to strike a terror into the slothful, he forbade his monks to proceed in singing psalms, and ordered the clothes which covered the corpse to be burnt, saying: "Honors could only increase his torments; but the ignominy with which his body was treated, might move God to show more mercy to his soul; for God forgives some sins not only in this world, but also in the next." When the procurator of the house had sold the mats at market at a higher price than the saint had bid him, he ordered him to carry back the money to the buyers, and chastised him for his avarice.

Among many miracles wrought by him, the author of his life assures us, that though he had never learned the Greek or Latin tongues, he sometimes miraculously spoke them; he cured the sick and persons possessed by devils with blessed oil. But he often told sick or distressed persons, that their sickness or affliction was an effect of the divine goodness in their behalf; and he only prayed for their temporal comfort, with this clause or condition, if it should not prove hurtful to their souls. His dearest disciple, St. Theodorus, who after his death succeeded him in the government of his monasteries, was afflicted with a perpetual headache. St. Pachomius, when desired by some of the brethren to pray for his health, answered: "Though abstinence and prayer be of great merit, yet sickness, suffered with patience, is of much greater." He chiefly begged of God the spiritual health of the souls of his disciples and others, and took every opportunity to curb and heal their passions, especially that of pride. One day a certain monk having doubled his diligence at work, and made two mats instead of one, set them where St. Pachomius might see them. The saint perceiving the snare, said, "This brother hath taken a great deal of pains from morning till night, to give his work to the devil." And, to cure his vanity by humiliations, he enjoined him, by way of penance, to keep his cell fire months, with no other allowance than a little bread, salt, and water. A young man named Sylvanus; who had been an actor on the stage, entered the monastery of St. Pachomius with the view of doing penance, but led for some time an undisciplined life, often transgressing the rules of the house, and still fond of entertaining himself and others with buffooneries. The man of God endeavored to make him sensible of his danger by charitable remonstrances, and also employed his more potent arms of prayer, sighs, and tears, for his poor soul. Though for some time he found his endeavors fruitless, he did not desist on that account; and having one day represented to this impenitent sinner, in a very pathetic manner, the dreadful judgments which threaten those that mock God, the divine grace touching the heart of Sylvanus, he from that moment began, to lead a life of great edification to the rest of the brethren; and being moved with the most feeling sentiments of compunction, he never failed, wheresoever he was, and howsoever employed, to bewail with bitterness his past misdemeanors. When others entreated him to moderate the floods of his tears, "Ah," said he, "how can I help weeping, when I consider the wretchedness of my past life, and that by my sloth I have profaned what was most sacred? I have reason to fear lest the earth should open under my feet, and swallow me up, as it did Dathan and Abiron. Oh! suffer me to labor with ever-flowing fountains of tears, to expiate my innumerable sins. I ought, if I could, even to pour forth this wretched soul of mine in mourning; it would be all too little for my offences." In these sentiments of contrition he made so "real progress in virtue, that the holy abbot proposed him as a model of humility to the rest; and when, after eight years spent in this penitential course, God had called him to himself by a holy death, St. Pachomius was assured by a revelation, that his soul was presented by angels a most agreeable sacrifice to Christ. The saint was favored with a spirit of prophecy, and with great grief foretold the decay of monastic fervor in his order in succeeding ages. In 348 he was cited before a council of bishops at Latopolis, to answer certain matters laid to his charge. He justified himself against the calumniators, but in such a manner that the whole council admired his extraordinary humility. The same year, God afflicted his monasteries with a pestilence, which swept off a hundred monks. The saint himself fell sick, and during forty days suffered a painful distemper with incredible patience and cheerfulness, discovering a great interior joy at the approach of the end of his earthly pilgrimage. In his last moments he exhorted his monks to fervor, and having armed himself with the sign of the cross, resigned his happy soul into the hands of his Creator in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He lived to see in his different monasteries seven thousand monks. His order subsisted in the cast till the eleventh century: for Anselm, bishop of Havelburgh, writes, that he saw five hundred monks of this institute in a monastery at Constantinople. St. Pachomius formed his disciples to so eminent a degree of perfection chiefly by his own fervent spirit and example; for he always appeared the first, the most exact, and the most fervent, in all the exercises of the community. To the fervor and watchfulness of the superior it was owing that in so numerous a community discipline was observed with astonishing regularity, as Palladius and Cassian observe. The former says that they ate with their cowl drawn so as to hide the greatest part of their faces, and with their eyes cast down, never looking at one another. Many contented themselves with taking a very few mouthfuls of bread and oil, or of such like dish; others of pottage only. So great was the silence that reigned among them while every one followed his employment, that in the midst of so great a multitude; a person seemed to be in a solitude. Cassian tells us, that the more numerous the monastery was, the more perfect and rigorous was regular observance of discipline, and all constantly obeyed their superior more readily than a single person is found to do in other places. Nothing so much weakens the fervor of inferiors as the example of a superior who easily allows himself exemptions or dispensations in the rule. The relaxation of monastic discipline is often owing to no other cause.

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portfoliosmedia · 4 years

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The 80 best phrases of Saint Francis of Assisi https://ift.tt/32i8tCM

We review the famous quotes and reflections of this Italian religious and thinker.

St. Francis of Assisi (born 1181 in Assisi, Italy, and died on October 3, 1226) was the son of a rich merchant who went on to live in the strictest poverty and devote himself to reading the gospels.

This ecclesiastical tried in Egypt the conversion of Muslims to Christianity in an unsuccessful way, he always lived austerely and was the first recorded case of visible stigmatization on his body.

The 80 best phrases of Saint Francis of Assisi

He was a great man who lived until the last of his days for his faith and for his duty to the Christian people, that is why he was canonized in 1228.

Famous phrases of Saint Francis of Assisi

Due to the notoriety that it had at the time and the one that it still retains today, we have thought it convenient to make a selection of the 80 best phrases of San Francisco de Asís that you can then discover and get closer to this great historical figure.

1. All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.

As long as there is hope, everything will still be possible.

2. Where there is charity and wisdom, there is no fear or ignorance.

With the power of knowledge many of our fears cease to matter.

3. It is in the giving that we receive.

When we show our charity towards others, life will return that positive energy to us.

4. Animals are my friends and I don't eat my friends.

Saint Francis of Assisi reveals in this sentence his vegetarianism.

5. Blessed is he who has no more joy and joy than the words and works of the Lord.

Our faith can be a very powerful tool if we know how to use it correctly.

6. When spiritual joy fills hearts, the snake sheds its deadly poison in vain.

We must not let ourselves be influenced by the negative aspects of life.

7. Remember that when you leave this world, you cannot take anything you have received; Only what you have given.

Experiences are the only thing we will take away from this world when we die.

8. While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.

We must act in accordance with our moral convictions.

9. It is forgiving that we are forgiven.

Life will return the energy that we transmit to others.

10. If God can work through me, He can work through anyone.

God can do his work through anyone he wants.

11. Where stillness and meditation reign, there is no place for worries or for dissipation.

Knowing how to calm our mind is a virtue that not everyone has.

12. The defeated temptation is, in a way, the ring with which the Lord marries the heart of his servant.

Not falling into temptations is the gift that God wants, in order to have access to his person.

13. With how much more love can one of us love and nurture his brother in the spirit.

We must love others and emit that love in all the things we do in our lives.

14. Entertaining yourself in looking for defects to your neighbor is proof enough not to deal only with your own.

We all have flaws, no person is perfect. We are only human beings.

15. It is a faithful and prudent servant who, for every fault he commits, hastens to atone for them: internally, for contrition and externally for confession and satisfaction of work.

We must repent of the sins we can commit, for that is the path of righteousness.

16. May the peace they announce with their words be first in their hearts.

In order to communicate the love we feel for others correctly, we must first feel it within ourselves.

17. All the good that we do must be done for the love of God, and the evil that we avoid must be avoided for the love of God.

Thanks to our faith in God we can lead a quiet and orderly life.

18. We must do nothing else but be solicitous in following God's will and pleasing him in all things.

We must lead a life following the teachings of Jesus, in order to be closer to God.

19. Let's start serving, let's do our best. What we have done so far is little and nothing.

We will always be in time to improve our life by being faithful to our faith in God.

20. If there are men who exclude any of God's creatures from the protection of compassion and mercy, there will be men who will treat their brothers in the same way.

People show our character as we relate to all living beings, not just people.

21. Without prayer, no one can progress in divine service.

Prayer can be the bridge that helps us communicate with God.

22. God created all creatures with love and kindness, great, small, human or animal form all are children of the Father and was so perfect in his creation that he gave each his own environment and his animals a home full of streams , beautiful trees and meadows like paradise itself.

Contemplating creation can be a wonderful thing, we must give thanks for everything we have within our reach.

23. Jesus Christ called the one who delivered him a friend and offered himself spontaneously to those who crucified him.

Jesus was never afraid of death, for he knew it was only the way back home.

24. It is dying as we find the life that exists beyond.

Death is just one more step that we all must take in life, perhaps the beginning of something new.

25. If you, servant of God, are worried, you should immediately turn to prayer and prostrate yourself before the Lord until joy returns to you.

We must communicate with God so that he knows about our problems or concerns, contact him!

26. For a small reward, something that is invaluable is lost and the giver is easily provoked to give no more.

We must not be greedy, because the hand that feeds us does not bite.

27. All brothers must preach through their works.

The best way to show the way to the Lord is to do good works.

28. If the Lord can do his work through me, He can work through everything.

God can use all living beings to do their will, for he is omnipresent.

29. A single ray of sunshine is enough to scare away many shadows.

With the power of hope everything will be possible in our lives.

30. Above all the grace and gifts that Christ gives to his loved ones, is that of overcoming oneself.

Reaching our goals and exceeding them, is what we should do in our lives.

31. Keep a clear eye towards the end of life. Do not forget your purpose and destiny as a creature of God. What is in front of him is who you are and nothing else.

We must show decision in the acts we perform, for God guides us on our way in life.

32. Poverty is the divine virtue by which everything that is earthly and transitory is trampled on, and by which all obstacles are removed from the soul in order to freely enter into union with the Lord God eternal.

Material goods are worthless, the experiences we live and the feelings we feel are much more invaluable treasures.

33. Poverty accompanied Christ on the cross, was buried with Christ in the grave, and with Christ he rose and ascended to heaven.

Being poor is no dishonor, the real dishonor is being a bad person.

34. My Lord, thank you, for the sister moon and the stars; in heaven you have made them, beautiful and beautiful.

All aspects of creation are wonderful, the universe is a fantastic place where everything is possible.

35. Praise you, my Lord, for sister water; She is very helpful and humble and beautiful and chaste.

Water is an essential good that all living beings need, because it is a source of life.

36. Thank you, my Lord, for our sister, Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us, and produces various fruits with colorful flowers and herbs.

The ground we step on is where every form of life is found and for that we must also give thanks.

37. The triumph of the devil is greater when he can deprive us of the joy of the Spirit.

If we do not live with joy, we die in life, joy must be the engine that spins our life.

38. Be patient with all things, but above all with yourself.

We must not be disillusioned for not leading the life we want, we will achieve the objectives we set at the right time.

39. When sadness takes root, evil grows. If it does not dissolve by tears, permanent damage is done.

We must not let sadness flood our hearts, hope is our greatest weapon and with it life will be wonderful.

40. We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you, because by your holy cross you redeemed the world.

A quote from St. Francis of Assisi dedicated to Jesus our Lord showing his love for him.

41. To remain a friend of Caesar, Pilate handed him over to his enemies. A dreadful crime.

Jesus was betrayed by finding death and also the path to eternal life.

42. For whom, then, will I live, if not for you, my Lord? In case you want to please men, it could not be your server.

Consecrating our life to God is something we can do just as St. Francis of Assisi did.

43. Dying in you Lord is how we are born to eternal life.

Religion will accompany us until the moment of our mind, because our faith will open the doors of paradise to us.

44. Pilate condemned innocence to death, and offend God in order not to upset men.

We owe our loyalty to God, not to men, according to the phrases of St. Francis of Assisi.

45. Jesus, the most innocent, who neither did nor could commit a sin, was condemned to death, and on the other hand, to the most ignominious death of the cross.

The death that Jesus had to face was an appalling and appalling.

46. God, illuminate the darkness of my heart and give me a right faith, a sure hope, a perfect charity, meaning and knowledge, so that I may carry out your holy commandment.

A precious date that encourages us to consecrate our daily efforts to God our Lord.

47. If they think they are abandoned in their sadness, melancholy ... sadness will consume them progressively and be consumed in empty detours.

We must banish the sadness of our hearts and embrace a life of hope.

48. The devil carries the fine dust with him in small boxes and disperses them through the cracks in our consciousness in order to attenuate the pure impulses of the soul and its brightness.

The temptations are many and varied, we must be strong not to fall into them.

49. Praise you, my Lord, for those who forgive for your love; through those who endure disease and tribulation. Happy are those who suffer in peace, because they will be crowned.

We can all receive God in our hearts, it is only up to us to accept him.

50. Praise you, my Lord, for the brother fire, by which you light the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Fire is the tool with which we cook our food or see through darkness, without a doubt a great gift that God has served us.

51. Thank you my Lord, for the brother wind and air, and the clouds and the storms, and all the time, through which you support the creatures.

Without the air we breathe we would never be able to live, we must give thanks for all that life gives us.

52. Poverty even in this life gives souls the ability to fly to heaven, and only she keeps the armor of true humility and charity.

Poverty does not represent the person we really are, it is only a temporary state through which we can pass.

53. Poverty is also the virtue that makes the soul, while on earth, converse with the angels in heaven.

The dignity of people is not measured by their wealth, but by the value of their feelings.

54. Remember that when you leave this earth, you cannot take anything you have received ... but only what you have given; A heart full and enriched by honest service, love, sacrifice and courage.

The only thing we will never lose are those qualities that make us great, the material will not accompany us to heaven.

55. Sanctify yourself and sanctify society.

We must give our best version in the life we live, do good above all things.

56. True progress is quietly, persistently and without prior notice.

When we reach our goals we should not boast about it, humility must be our mantra of life.

57. Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. That where there is hate, sow love, where there is pain, forgiveness; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, happiness.

Saint Francis of Assisi consecrated himself with this phrase to God, so that he could transmit strength and fortitude.

58. Terrible is death! But, how appealing is also the life of the other world, to which God calls us!

We should not fear death, this is only one more process that will open the doors to a better life.

59. Man should tremble, the world should vibrate, the whole sky should be deeply moved when the son of God appears on the altar in the hands of the priest.

In the Christian religion there is a belief that God exercises his will through the priesthood.

60. Man, having nothing of his own, belongs to God.

Ultimately everything we are we owe it to God, Saint Francis of Assisi believed that.

61. Let us love God and worship him with a simple heart.

Saint Francis of Assisi encourages us with this appointment to be faithful on our way to salvation.

62. Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.

We must do good to all people and living beings, because in this way life will return the same energy that we emanate.

63. Every creature in disgrace has the same right to be protected.

All living beings deserve to receive the same amount of respect, love and affection. We must preserve the dignity of all animals.

64. Just like some animals feed on others to survive, God told man that he could take the animals he needed only until he found a better solution, not for capricious dresses or making them his slaves or entertainment.

Saint Francis of Assisi was a fervent defender of animal rights and thought that these should not be used lightly or negotiated with his death.

65. Evil and false spirits, do in me everything you want. I know well that you cannot do more than the hand of the Lord permits. For my part, I am willing to suffer with pleasure everything he leaves.

San Francisco was a man who did not hesitate to suffer if the situation required it, he had faith in the mission that God had assigned him.

66. She really loves her enemy, who does not suffer from the injury done to her, but because of the love of God, is required by the sin that is in her soul.

We must realize our life wasting love towards others, with this we will be able to be a happier person.

67. He who works with his hands is a worker.

Those who do manual labor deserve to be respected as well as intellectuals.

68. It is happy who retains nothing for himself.

We must know how to give in order to receive.

69. The devil is glad, above all, when he manages to snatch the joy from the heart of God's servant.

The devil must never take away the joy of our heart, because without it we cannot carry out the mission that God entrusts to each of us.

70. Prayer is a true rest.

With prayer we can find inner peace and spiritual fulfillment.

71. We have been called to heal wounds, to unite what has collapsed and to take home those who have lost their way.

We all have a mission to fulfill in life, finding what it is depends on us.

72. The true teaching we transmit is what we live; and we are good preachers when we put into practice what we say.

Preaching by example is the best way for others to share our message.

73. He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.

When we combine knowledge to our work we take it to the next level of skill.

74. There is no use walking anywhere to evangelize unless our path is our gospel

Our example will lead many people to the right path.

75. I need few things and the few I need, I need them little.

People need few things to be really happy.

76. What you do may be the only sermon that some people hear today.

People see how we act and what we do with our lives, we can be a source of inspiration in them.

77. Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary use words.

We may need words to make ourselves heard, but our actions will go much further.

78. It is giving as it is received, it is forgetting oneself as one finds.

We must not be selfish, life is much more than giving or receiving, it consists in finding why to live.

79. Let us strive to achieve the serenity of accepting the inevitable things, the courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to distinguish one from the other.

Wisdom is one of the hardest things to find in life, because it takes a life of learning to achieve it.

80. Start by doing what is necessary; Then do your best and suddenly you will be doing the impossible.

With faith we can perform acts that many will believe impossible, but it is the strength of our faith that will allow us to make them happen.

#Blogger

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everlarkficexchange · 7 years

Text

The Misunderstanding Part Three

Prompt 42: Everlark gets a puppy/kitten/other baby animal. Kill me with cuteness :) [submitted by Anonymous]

This is a wonderful prompt, I couldn’t resist…Prim reminded me of my sister at fourteen, she didn’t bring home a cat but a pigeon that when it looked at me it I got chills.

PS not betaed’ all mistakes are sadly mine.

Prompt 42: by @mega-aulover

Rated: G

The Misunderstanding Part Three.

PART 1, PART 2

August 1st, 1945

“What do you think Katniss?” Effie asked showing Katniss another bolt of flower printed fabric, it had pink flowers.

Katniss smiled politely the pattern was ghastly. Her gray eyes looked out of the panes of the store front. The streets were busy with people. Her Aunt dragged her to Elf, known as District Eleven. The land was once owned by the Panem Group, and divided into thirteen districts. The company was dissolved, but the small communities remained. Elf was bigger than their community and offered more shops.

Her Aunt was not satisfied with the fabric choices back home. She wanted to find the perfect shade of pink. Katniss had suggested her favorite color green. Her Aunt was mortified; green wouldn’t do for a wedding.

Peeta laughed at the way Katniss described the situation. Peeta was a pacifist and he shrewdly used his words to find solutions, something Katniss was not good at. From the moment she agreed to marry him on the fair grounds Peeta persuaded her. He enamored her with not just words but with actions. Peeta understood her in a way that only her father had.

He showed her how much he loved and treasured her. He even wanted her to study, to get a degree. Katniss was glad for him and her desire to be with him physically. Katniss glanced about the store a blush touching her cheeks. They were betrothed, and it was not uncommon for couples close to the wedding ceremony to engage in physical intimacy. She was very aware of how beautiful he was.

Katniss glanced at a small girl skipping rope to cool her heated cheeks. She forced herself to think of something else.

The radio blared, Glenn’s Miller ‘In the Mood.’

Life in the United States was so vastly different from England. No one here knew the atrocities of war. No one knew the real terror of sirens. As was the practice in many communities across the United States, the Civil Defense Sirens, that would sound. The practices were a calm affair, people proceeded to hide in their basements or their storm cellars for five to ten minutes, until the all clear was given.

In London when the sirens went of you had seconds to find shelter before you heard the high pitched whistle from a bomb being dropped from the sky. People often went to the underground the railway. The life Katniss had in the United States was hard but it was a blessing, she didn’t have to wake up to the horrors of destruction and war.

America truly was the land of opportunity. She was a girl from a war torn country, and she was able to finish her schooling, and had taken the chance to forgive a remarkable boy whom she was madly in love with.

The door of the fabric shop rang, an older lady came in made a selection, took out her ration book, paid then left all the while Aunt Effie wavered between two bolts of fabrics.

Her Aunt hailed a salesgirl, “Excuse me but do you have something else, with more rose hues or pink?”

Katniss hid her grin as the young woman plastered a smile on her face.

It was noon, on a Wednesday. The radio gave news that Japan still did not want to surrender. The boys on the opposite end of the world were still at war. Katniss felt a pang for her friend Gale who was still on active duty. His mother was worried, but she’d received a letter from him not so long ago. Letters from where Gale was stationed took a long time to arrive. The boys from the pacific front were slowly coming back home. Peeta’s eldest brother Rye was sent home, he’d been convalescing in a medical unit when Germany surrendered, his plane had been shot down and he was fished out of the ocean by an English Destroyer. It gave Peeta and her, the ability to spend more time together.

These were strange times. The war forced the burgeoning youth to grow up quicker. Of the two Mellark boys that went to war, only one came back. The eldest died in fight to take Guadalcanal. Their mother passed away a year later. Peeta had to assume many responsibilities. They might have been eighteen but they felt like they were in their forties. Katniss touched a pretty orange ribbon. Peeta would like this she thought.

“What else do you have?” Her Aunt moved on from the bolt of fabric she was looking at. Fabric was still being rationed even here in the United States every resource went into the war effort. So finding pink was hard. “Oh dear,” her Aunt huffed as she tsked away, “This shall never do, Katniss what do you think?”

Katniss wanted to smack her head against the wall. She’d been engaged one month and her Aunt was driving her bonkers. “Aunt Effie, I’m not sure pink is going to work, for the wedding since we’re having it in October.”

“Nonsense, this is going to be a big, big, day,” Aunt Effie patted Katniss cheeks, “and pink is always suitable for any occasion.”

Katniss wondered if her Aunt would ever come to understand just how much she detested pink. The young salesgirl gave Katniss a sympathetic smile.

Her Aunt never had children, she was not an old woman she was in her thirties but after years of trying it wasn’t very likely she’d be able to have any. When Katniss and Prim arrived in her Aunt took them under her wing and loved them as her own. Aunt Effie even took care of their mother, helping her get some of her old life back. Her mother took a few refresher courses in nursing, and now was volunteered with senior citizens in a nursing home.

Currently their mother was away in a spa near the Jefferson Pools, a Christmas gift from their Aunt and Uncle. Katniss was beholden to her Aunt and Uncle, and loved them immensely. It’s what got her in this mess in the first place. Effie was out of control.

Katniss wanted something simple wedding, a nice dress, some flowers, a cake made by Peeta, and perhaps a lovely lunch at home. Her Aunt wanted to make it a grand back yard affair, which gave Katniss a headache. She hadn’t time for anything or anyone, including Peeta. She hadn’t seen him in over a week.

“You’re right it is too bright.” Aunt Effie shook her head. Defeated she left the store. Katniss followed her behind. Her feet hurt, from crossing the cobbled streets of Elf.

“Oh Katniss I want to make your weeding to Peeta, the most splendid of all weddings, but I can’t seem to find anything.”

“Aunt Effie, I know you want everything to be splendid, but don’t you think wedding is two months away don’t you think we should do something small and intimate. I don’t want a big kafuffle.”

“Nonsense my dear, you and Peeta deserve the best,” her aunt waved her wrist in a circle. She looked down the street, “I suppose we should head home, since our mission was incomplete.”

Katniss was relieved. They hurried and checked out of the hotel. They manage to catch next train, it looked they’d be home that evening. Katniss was looking forward to seeing Peeta. He was at station waiting for her.

“Hey there baby,” Peeta greeted.

She didn’t like to be called baby, but she was so happy to see Peeta she let it slip, “Hello.”

She wanted to kiss him, but with her Aunt right behind her Katniss didn’t dare. Her Aunt was a prude. He took her hand and squeezed gently. “Miss. Effie, why don’t I carry these to the car,” Peeta offered.

“Oh yes, thank you,” her aunt blushed. They got inside the car, her Aunt let Katniss sit in the front while she sat in the backseat. Peeta drove toward the farm.

“Mr. Abernathy had a meeting tonight at the JusticeBuilding. He asked me to pick you up at the station.”

“Thank you,” her aunt slipped her gloves on, “perhaps you both would like to have some time alone.”

Peeta winked at Katniss, “I have plans to take Katniss to the pictures, to see Anchors Aweigh.”

“Oh, I heard that is a phenomenal film,” Aunt Effie answered.

Katniss glanced at Peeta’s profile he was handsome, and she wanted to get her hands all over him. She didn’t understand the magic he held over her. It was like something within her became awake, like a hungry starved beast that’d never been fed. His hand snuck across the seat and took hers. He held it through the journey, and when they arrived at the farm Peeta helped put their suitcases in the house.

He got in the car. “Alone at last,” Peeta grinned wolfishly.

“We’ve already seen Anchors Aweigh,” Katniss grinned, “Where are you really taking me?” Peeta was always surprising her with little outings or trinkets.

“To the place this community is named after,” Peeta whistled.

Their District was known as Meadowvale. Now that the fair was over with, the meadow once more became the spot for lovers to go park. She clenched her legs together, in pure excitement. Katniss was eager, she kissed him.

“You’re an eager-beaver tonight?” He touched her face.

“I haven’t seen you in a week,” Katniss said leaning in to kiss him.

“Nope, come on doll face I’ve got plans for you.”

Katniss reluctantly nodded. Peeta took out a blanket and a picnic basket, they settled in the tall grass. She was hungry but not for food and she pushed him on to the blanket and straddled his waist, “Food can wait.”

Peeta laughed but, he became quiet as soon as her lips touched his. Soft kisses and passionate words were exchanged, hands roamed over cloth covered body parts. Katniss smiled as she rested her head on Peeta’s chest.

“So your Aunt is still bent on having pink for the wedding?”

“Peeta I’ve tried everything possible to dissuade her. I don’t know what to do? I hate pink.”

Peeta chuckled, “I think I may have an idea.”

“What are you planning,” Katniss sat up. She didn’t trust the look on his face. It was the same face he had on the Ferris wheel.

“Nothing,” Peeta looked up at the sky, “The sun is setting.”

Katniss laid her head on his shoulder; it was nearly time to go home. Her eyes closed and when she opened them next she was in her bed, with her covers up to her shoulders. Her room was darkened but moonlight streamed in through her window. A gentle smile spread on her face. Peeta had put her to bed.

She turned onto her side and that’s when she saw the yellow glowing eyes peering at her from the dark corner. “AGGHHHHAHHHHAHAHHA!”

The thing jumped mid air. Katniss sprang out of her bed in the middle of the night and taking a pitcher of water she threw its contents at the beast.

The thing growled, “MRRRWROOOWWWWWW.” the moment the water hit it.

Katniss ran into the bathroom, and locked the door. She breathed heavily glad for the bathroom her uncle made for them. Not many people had bathrooms with tubs, sinks or toilets, but when Aunt Effie received Katniss letter form England, she demanded Haymitch have bathrooms installed in the girls rooms.

When she and Prim arrived at their relatives’ farm, Katniss marveled at the sight of the indoor water-closet. It was a lulu to find out she had a room of her own. In England she and Primrose shared a bed. They could only afford a chest for their clothing, they didn’t have much. Prim inherited her hand-me-downs and Katniss learned to make clothing for herself out of curtains and old tablecloths. When she came here she had two skirts, two button-down shirts, a jumper and three dresses that she’d made. One of which she wore on her on her voyage to America. She had no need of a wardrobe until she came to the United States.

“KATNISS,” she heard her Uncle and Prim call at the same time as the door of her room thrown open. The light was turned on followed by her Uncle’s laughter.

“Oh Buttercup,” Katniss heard her sister exclaim, “What has Katniss done to you?”

Katniss opened the door timidly to see her sister holding a hideous orange beast. It was a battered, thing with muddy fur and eyes the color of rotting mush. One ear looked like it had been bit off, and now thanks to her it looked drowned. “What is that?”

“This is my cat, Buttercup.”

“She’s ugly,” Katniss shook her head in disbelief.

“Buttercup is a boy.” Prim soothed the wet cat by scratching it behind the ear. “I found it in the field behind our house yesterday.” Prim held the orange beast as if was a baby.

The thing growled at her and hissed at Katniss. She narrowed her gray eyes, “What is it doing inside of the house?”

“I rescued it, Uncle Haymitch let me have it.”

Katniss eyes flew to her Uncle, “Really.”

Her Uncle Haymitch nervously scratched behind his neck, “Ah good night girls, I think I hear Effie calling me…good night.” He quickly left.

“That thing attacked me,” Katniss pointed.

“You tried to drown him,” Prim smartly answered.

“We can’t keep that cat here,” Katniss stood arms akimbo and she stomped her foot impatiently. “We live on a farm, that cat will chase the chickens, eat the eggs.”

Prim turned her nose in the air, “Aunt Effie said he’s going to be a great mouser.”

Katniss laughed. “Mouser,” could help the way her shoulders shook with mirth.

The cat growled, and Katniss swore the unsightly thing bared it’s teeth at her.

“There, there Buttercup, Katniss is just tired and cranky,” Prim said in a soothing voice as she gently petted Buttercup. It cried like a helpless kitten as her sister left her bedroom.

Katniss rubbed her eyes, and closed her door ready to go back to sleep. She muttered, “Dumb cat,” as she snuggled back into her bed. The next morning she trudged downstairs to the kitchen. She had dark circles under her eyes, from lack of sleep. She also discovered what Prim’s little monster was doing inside of her room.

Katniss walked into the kitchen to see her Aunt sitting drinking her coffee with Prim sitting on the floor petting the fowl feline. The cat stopped eating its food to hiss at Katniss.

Katniss scowled at the cat.

“Prim your cat chewed my loafer,” Katniss said with the shoe in hand.

“Aunt Effie, Katniss blew a fuse and nearly drowned my poor cat,” Prim complained.

“Keep it out of my room Prim, that’s all that I ask.”

“Buttercup doesn’t like the way you’ve treated it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t cook your cat Prim,” Katniss narrowed her eyes.

Prim took up her cat, “Don’t listen to her she’s just edgy, about her wedding.”

“Oh! Dear Katniss, your face!” Aunt Effie cried, “What happened to your face!”

“I’m knackered,” Katniss shrugged.

“These dark circles under your eyes will not do.” Aunt Effie held Katniss chin. She chided “What have you been doing?”

“I haven’t slept well and the past few days have been hard work planning the wedding.”

Before her Aunt could answer, her Uncle Haymitch said, “Effie the kid needs a break, she works on the farm, then spends her nights with you doing wedding stuff and knowing you, you’ve run her ragged while you girls were away.” He put down his paper.

Katniss watched the cat purr in her sister’s arms, she couldn’t understand how her sister could love such an ugly thing.

“Good Morning,” Peeta said from the screen, his hat in his hand.

“Hi-de-ho Peeta,” Prim greeted from the floor.

Haymitch invited, “Come in, boy.”

“Peeta,” she greeted and tried to keep her blush from her face.

“Hi Prim,” Peeta stepped into the house, “Hey whose this?” He got on one knee.

“This is Buttercup,” Prim sounded as proud as a mother with her newborn.

Katniss expected the cat to scratch Peeta’s eyes out instead it lept into his arms purring. “Oh, you’re a great kitty.”

“Kitty, more like rotten flee-bag.” Katniss scowled at the cat who then hissed back at her.

“See there she goes again,” Prim accused. “Peeta she nearly drowned him.”

“I did not,” Katniss narrowed her eyes at her sister. “He attacked me, I threw water at him last night to defend myself!”

“Pish-posh Katniss, he’s in desperate need of a home and we are the type of family Buttercup needs.” Katniss watched in disbelief as her aunt picked up a piece of her precious bacon and fed it to Buttercup and scratch behind it the ears.

“In my book, that thing probably has flees and who knows what else its lurking underneath that mangy fur of his.”

Peeta jumped up and gave the cat back to Primrose, “I think Buttercup should be part of the wedding.”

“Peeeetaahhh,” Prim breathed.

Katniss shook her head no, but Peeta kept on talking. “He can be the best ring bearer and Prim, Katniss mentioned she wants you to be her maid of honor.”

“Really, Katniss,” Prim’s face bloomed with hope.

Katniss couldn’t say no. Not even to the beast that was going to make an appearance in her wedding. “Peeta and I wanted to tell you together.”

Prim launched herself at Katniss. “Thanks sis and I know Buttercup is going to make the best ring bearer.”

“I have great news, about what we spoke about yesterday.” Peeta smiled.

“And,” Katniss said anxious to hear what he came up with.

“I’ve asked my pen pal Portia from New York for guidance about where to find the perfect pink shade, and asking for ideas.”

“Oh my dear I know finding the right shade is near impossible.” Aunt Effie hand flourished in the air before she picked up her cup of coffee.

“You told me about Portia, she’s works in Gimbels.” The only reason Katniss knew about the New York store was because her Aunt spoke about incessantly.

“Oh Gimbels is where Haymitch took me to purchase my wedding dress. Remember Haymitch?”

“It was like yesterday,” Haymitch said from behind the newspaper.

“Portia suggested, since the wedding is in the fall, I thought we’d make it into a fall theme. You know reds, oranges, greens. Orange is my favorite color and green is Katniss’s that way we’ll both be represented in the wedding. I drew a picture for you of what I want.” He produced an image of a green laurel with green and yellow flowers. “We can use the laurel motif through out the wedding, Katniss can put this in her hair, but I can draw and paint this and have our names in the middle.”

“Oh Peeta that is lovely, of course why didn’t I think about this.” Effie clapped her hands, “Katniss you are going to be the most beautiful bride I know it.”

“That’s not all. You remember her boss Cinna is the window decorator, he is also a buyer.”

“Yup,” Katniss nodded.

“Well Portia and her boss Cinna has some time off coming up and he agreed to come down here and help with the wedding.”

“Peeta are you sure!” Effie exclaimed.

“He’ll sent his phone number so that you can call him Miss. Effie. He is most eager to speak with you, he also wants some pictures of the surrounding area, so that he can help design out the wedding is going to look like.”

Effie had a smile on her face wider than the Grand Canyon. “This is going to be a big, big, day!”

Katniss smiled she was glad about the wedding but when she looked at Buttercup it ‘phft’ at her turned around and mooned her. Katniss narrowed her eyes, she disliked the fur ball immensely but there was nothing she could do about it, it was now in the wedding.

#Everlark Fic Exchange #Springtime Edition 2017 #submission #mega aulover #prompt 42

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pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

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Wartime Prayers - Part 5

For all fighting forces - Those living in a world at war - May God's mercy be upon them. Prayers used by Fulton J. Sheen during WWII.

LOOKING INTO MY SOUL

I may not believe in taxation, but taxation is inescapable. I may not believe that one day God will judge me, but the judgment is inescapable. "It is appointed for men to die once, but after that comes judgment." (Heb. 9:27)

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"For what will it profit a man, if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life? Or what shall a man give in return for his life? For the Son of Man is to come with His angels in the glory of His Father, and then He will repay every man for what he has done." (Matt. 16:26 – 27)

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"Then the King will say to those at His right hand, 'Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.' Then the righteous will answer Him, 'Lord, when did we see Thee hungry and feed Thee, or thirsty and give Thee drink? And when did we see Thee a stranger and welcome Thee, or naked and clothed Thee? And when did we see Thee sick or in prison and visit Thee?' And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.' Then He will say to those at His left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' Then they also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see Thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to Thee?' Then He will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.'" (Matt. 25:34 – 45)

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How do I stand in my duties toward God? "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the great and first commandment." (Matt. 22:37 – 38)

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Do I seek to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him? I know that I ought to do it. I would like to do it, I am not doing it, and I hate to be reminded about it.

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How do I stand in my duties toward my neighbor? "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." (Matt. 22:39) My neighbor is often my enemy. "And as you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish." (Luke 6:31 – 35) "If anyone says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him, that he who loves God should love his brother also." (John 4:20 – 21)

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Do I boast and consider myself superior to my neighbor, because he is ignorant, or poor, or a member of a certain class or race? "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted." (Matt. 23:12) "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal. 3:28)

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How do I stand in relation to myself? What kind of thoughts and desires possess my soul? Do I realize that if it is wrong to do a certain thing, then it is wrong to think about that thing? That the way to keep my actions clean is to keep my thoughts clean? That it is not when the act has been committed that the danger to the soul begins, but when the thought has been freely and favorably accepted by my will? "Do you know they your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ and make them members of a harlot? By no means! Or do you not know that he who cleaves to a harlot, becomes one body with her? 'For the two,' it says, 'shall be in one flesh.' But he who cleaves to the Lord is one spirit with Him. Flee immorality. Every sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the immoral man sins against his own body. Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body." (1 Cor. 6:15 – 20) "But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart." (Matt. 5:28) "But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a man. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander." (Matt. 15:18 – 19) "Then desire when it is conceived gives birth to sin; and sin when it is full-grown brings forth death." (James 1:15) "For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by men and hating one another; but when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, He saved us, not because of deeds done by us in righteousness, but in virtue of His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal in the Holy Spirit." (Titus 3:3 – 5) "Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food – and God will destroy both one and the other. The body is not meant for immortality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body." (1 Cor. 6:13)

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HOW DO I STAND BEFORE GOD IN MY WORDS?

Do I realize that a spoken word is like a shot fired and that it can never be taken back? Do I spread evil about others, whether it be true or false? Do I set myself up as a judge of others' actions? Is my speech clean? Do I take the name of God in vain? "You brood of vipers! How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil man out of his evil treasure brings forth evil. I tell you, on the day of judgment men will render account for every careless word they utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned"? (Matt. 12:34 – 37) "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain." (Exodus 20:7) "To the pure all things are pure, but to the corrupt and unbelieving nothing is pure; their very minds and consciences are corrupted." (Titus 1:15) "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." (Matt. 5:8)

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"The General is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing, a vice heretofore little-known in an American army, is growing into fashion. He hopes the officers will, by example as well as by influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our arms if we insult it by our impiety and folly. Added to this, it is a vice so mean and so low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character, detests and despises it." – Gen. George Washington

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HOW DO I STAND BEFORE GOD IN MY DEEDS?

Do I send by omission? Do I fail to be charitable to those who need my help, to edify by good example, to pray, to diffuse God's truth, to prevent scandal? "What does it profit, my brethren, if a man says he has faith but has not works? Can his faith save him?" (James 2:14) "Shall your brethren go to the war while you sit here?" (Num. 32:6) "So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth." (Apoc. 3:16)

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What sin do I actually commit? Am I guilty of any of these sins which manifest that I live not by Christ, but by the flesh; "Now the works of the flesh a plain; fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, anger, selfishness, dissension, party spirit, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and the like. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." (Gal. 5:19 – 21) "Watch therefore – for you do not know when the Master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning – lest He come suddenly and find you asleep. And what I say to you I say to all: watch." (Mark 13:35 – 37)

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"Lord Jesus, I believe, and by Thy grace will ever believe and hold, and I know that it is true, and will be true to the end of the world, then nothing great is done without suffering, without humiliation, and that all things are possible by means of it. To possess Thee, O Lover of souls, is happiness, and the only happiness of the immortal soul! To enjoy the sight of Thee is the only happiness of eternity. At present I may amuse and sustain myself with the vanities of sense and time, but they will not last forever. We shall be stripped of them when we pass out of this world. All shadows will one day be gone. And what shall I do then? There will be nothing left to me but the Almighty God. God and my soul would be the only two beings left in the whole world, as far as I am concerned. He will be all in all, whether I wish it or not. What a strait I shall then be in if I do not love Him." – Cardinal Newman

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"Earth must fade away from my eyes, and I must anticipate the great and solemn truth, which I shall not fully understand until I stand before God in judgment, that to me there are but two beings in the whole world, God and myself. The sympathy of others, the pleasant voice, the glad eye, the smiling countenance, the thrilling heart, which at present are my very life, all will be away from me when Christ comes in judgment. I shall have to think of myself. My eyes shall see Him; my heart will be full of Him. He will speak to me; and I shall be rendering to Him my own account. By self-restraint, by abstinence, by prayer, by meditation, by recollection, by penance, I now anticipate in my measure that dreadful season. By thinking of it before hand, I hope to mitigate its terrors when it comes. By humbling myself now, I hope to escape humiliation then. By owning my faults now, I hope to avert the disclosures of that day. By judging myself now I hope to be spared that judgment which mercy tempers not. I prepare now to meet my God; I retire, as it were, to my sick room and put my house in order.… I leave the goods of earth before they leave me." – Cardinal Newman

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Did God send us, above all other men, into the world to be idle in spiritual matters? It is our mission only to find pleasure in this world, in which we are merely pilgrims and sojourners? Are we more than sons of Adam, who, by the sweat of their brow, are to eat bread till they return to the earth out of which they are taken? Unless we have some work in hand, unless we are struggling, unless we are fighting with ourselves, we are not followers of those who "through many tribulations entered into the kingdom of God. A fight is the very token of a Christian. He is a soldier of Christ; high or low, he is this and nothing else. If we have triumphed over all mortal sin, then we must attack our venial sins; there is no help for it; there is nothing else to do if we would be soldiers of Jesus Christ.

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"Everyone is made for his day; he does his work in his day, what he does is not the work of any other day, but of his own day; his work is necessary in order to prepare the work of that next day, which is not his, as a steppingstone on which we, who come next, are to raise our own work." – Cardinal Newman

#wartime prayers

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