Daily OpusEverything I write is freely rebloggable. Just keep the source and tell people about my books :D [Until I decide otherwise, my pronouns are Ze/Hir/Hirself. As in "Ze went to the shops to get hir medication hirself". Thank you for the respect.]
Honestly, if you see an angel that’s all eyes and wings and wheels of fire, you should be worried. Like, not because it’s going to hurt you or anything, but because scripturally, angels invariably appear to ordinary people in human form. In general, they only show their inhuman true forms to prophets – which means if you’re seeing them like that, they come bearing responsibility.
I woke up today with the phrase “spooky scary seraphim” in my head today, looks like we’re on the same wavelength.
I want to see a fanfic where Harry hatches a basilisk.
I want to see a fanfic where he looks up “magical snakes” as soon as he gets to Hogwarts because that thing at the zoo always bugged him, and so the Trio works out that it’s a basilisk immediately after the first petrification in Second Year. But they don’t know how it’s getting around or where it is or anything, so Harry is just like WELP SET A BASILISK TO FIND A BASILISK while Hermione and Ron are like HARRY NO.
I want to see a fanfic where Harry sticks a chicken egg under a toad and makes all these plans about how he’ll talk to his huge deadly snake and get it eye-blinkers and shit so it doesn’t kill people and make sure it’s not too aggressive, and somehow it never occurs to his twelve-year old brain that the chicken egg has a total volume of about four tablespoons and he is not going to get the giant King of Serpents he is expecting.
I want to see a fanfic where it finally breaks out of the shell and Harry finds himself with a bb!basilisk too smol to even have the murder-eyes yet, who can only petrify someone for about half an hour before the effect wears off. She eats spiders and gets tired very easily and demands that he wear a hood she can curl up in and sleep.
(She is also the same vivid green as his eyes and already hideously venomous, but doesn’t like using her fangs because she says they get cold and give her brain freeze when she unsheathes them.)
I just… I really want Harry with a haughty, demanding, arrogant danger noodle who has an overinflated sense of her own importance, views Hedwig as a TERRIFYING MENACE because she isn’t big enough to eat owls yet and keeps up a steady stream of insults hissed in Harry’s ear whenever she’s near someone who has a Dark Mark (which she can sense at close range). And who is basically useless as a familiar because she refuses to slither across anything other than sun-warmed stones or Harry, hasn’t got a very powerful gaze yet and doesn’t like biting people.
(Except snake-arm-people. She finds snake-arm-people confusing and annoying, and would probably make an exception on the no-biting thing where they’re concerned.)
I mean there are obviously a lot of factors influencing snake growth rate but if we assume basilisks just get stupidhuge because they grow their whole lives and are immortal, this snake is probably going to be at least 8 feet long by Deathly Hallows, which is a significant and intimidating chunk of scaly muscle that is intelligent enough to do what it is told. Like, you know, hey, bite this necklace.
So I mean by like his fourth year it’s going to be pretty hard to hide this snake that is nearly as long as he is tall and it’s not going to do much for his reputation that the Boy Who Lived has a pet fucking basilisk but holy damn does it make book seven a whole hell of a lot shorter.
I feel like I should write this
can you just imagine him ron and hermione coming up with increasingly ridiculous excuses trying to hide their pet baby basilisk in the dorms (hagrid would be so proud). how long do you think it’d take before harry’s pet basilisk is just a really badly hidden secret between all of gryffindor? and the ensuring antics of the entire house as they try to keep mcgonagall from finding out? (she knows something is up, but even just thinking of what could be big enough the entire house is trying to keep it from her makes her want to break out the firewhiskey)
ron gets the idea to try and practices parseltongue with baby basilisk since he hears harry talking in his sleep with it all the time anyway (and ngl, baby basilisk is kind of adorable and eats all the spiders in the dorm so he doesn’t have to deal with them, he’s pretty smitten once she hatches), and as soon as hermione overhears him trying it, she’s dragging him and harry to the library because, well, parseltongue is a language, why can’t they learn it? so it’s the two of them alternating between hissing at harry and hissing at the basilisk and harry is trying so hard not to laugh because 90% of what they’re saying is utter nonsense and the basilisk doesn’t even bother, because she likes these two humans but wow are they dumb, that’s not how words work.
I love parseltongue and Hermione like welp it’s a language and then most everyone in their year ends up learning it even the other houses just like the horrible scary snake language ends up being the secret language between the kids so they can gossip and the teachers are like what. Also Hagrid would love the baby basilisk.
You know most would just pick up a few curse words and insults.
what is everyone else is thinking when the Gryffindors start hissing under their breath? Their table sounds like a snake pit and it’s eerie af. The Slytherins are pissed cause surely this is a joke at their expense. And obviously everyone turns to Harry because he’s the ONLY ONE who could have stared this.
And can you imagine someone flubbing a scentence and activating a parseltounge feature of the castle? A small group of Gryffindors are complaining about astronomy and suddenly the stairs turn into a super slide. Discovering Salazar’s secret liquor cubbord. Secret passage ways being stumbled into left right and center because no one can pronounce ‘greasy git’ in parseltoung(besides Harry) but they’re sure as hell gonna try
yes all of this but also
as the nearest available toad, trevor is absolutely that basilisk’s mummy
I am a little high but what if people proposed with beautiful, intricate knives. Ladies would gather around the table and be like “guess what finally happened!!” And pull this beautiful, intricate dagger out of her purse and all the other ladies would gasp and congratulate her
Because I have a tag for pretty weaponry, some knives I’d accept as proposals follow:
I said yes!
(but, actually, hubby bought me a dive knife when we got married so this works…)
I can 100% get behind this as a new tradition.
Ok but this is amazing becuase knives are dangerous and you can use them to hurt other people but when someone proposes with one it’s symbolic like “yes I love you and trust you so much I’m asking you a very vulnerable question with something you could hurt me with but I know you won’t”
A little over 8 years ago, a friend of mine, L (name redacted)
was hit by her scum-bucket boyfriend. It
wasn’t the first time he’d hit her, but it was the first time he’d hit her in
front of her best friend J. (name also redacted.) J objected to the abuse, you might say she
objected violently to the abuse (which is one of the reasons why the names are
redacted even if the statute of limitations should be up.)
After scum-bucket had fled the scene, J decided that L needed some more support, so she called every women she knew. Everyone available showed up to L’s apartment
with weapons and booze. Imagine if you will, around 30 women stuffed into a one-bedroom apartment comforting L and
passing around the drinks when someone spots scum-bucket’s car pulling into the
parking lot.
It was decided that a few ladies would stay in the apartment
with L while the rest of us when downstairs to confront scum-bucket and prevent
him from entering the building.
Now all of us ladies at that time happened to belong to the same theater group that
specialized in swashbuckling plays, lots of sword fights and the like. So, when I say we brought weapons, I mean we
brought things like broadswords, battleaxes, crossbows, rapiers and like.
So, scum-bucket gets out of his car and starts walking
across the parking lot only to spot 25 or so heavily armed women marching out
of the building, raising their weapons and charging at him while screeching
like furies.
Scum-bucket had a pretty good sense of self-preservation and
the sight of us was inspiring. He ran
back to the car and peeled out of the parking light like the hounds of hell
were at his heels and I suppose we were.
Anyhow, L never heard from him again. Eventually, she and J started dating and they’ll
have been married for 5 years next September.
She Already had Snake Hair and Scales and was still the hottest lady the Gods have ever seen.
To be fair Medusa is supposedly one of the three Gorgon sisters, so it makes sense that there would be a family resemblance
Yeah that’s why I had to post this
I’ve read too many stories where it’s like “she’s a Gorgon” then near the end of the story they say “she was cursed with snake hair and features”
And I’m just like “…Wait.”
I think the only thing she was truly cursed with were the eyes that turn people to stone
someone draw beautiful medusa with scales and snake hair before being cursed p le a s e
I already had a little idea in my head so…
The men yell, “she’s a monster! She should be hunted down
and killed”. They’ve said it before, they’ve tried it before. She steals women
and devours them, the men yell. “She comes in the night and takes women away
when they’re on a half-awake wander to the chamber pot or a drink of water. She
steals them away to her lair and devours them whole. Why else do women not
return?”
The women whisper, “she’s a savior. She should be sought for
sanctuary and love.” They whisper it around the well whenever they see the
shadows of a bruise on their friends’ bodies. Whenever someone who once was
vivacious and bright is now dull and flinches from friendly touches. “Go in the
night,” they say, “when he’s so drunk he sleeps heavily. Take only what he won’t
notice is missing. Don’t worry about clothes or food, she will provide. You
will be cared for. Why would you want to return?”
She says, “welcome home. You will be safe here,” with a soft
smile and softer eyes. The snakes that curl around her head are more colors
than you’ve ever seen in your life. She tilts her head as she takes in your bundle
of precious items, the bruises on your arm, your face, around your neck. A
cloud passes over her face and the sun, and you see the snakes are black. The
look passes, the cloud moves away, the sun strikes the snakes again and they’re
a shifting array of colors again. “Come, meet your sisters,” she says,
gesturing as she turns and you look to see dozens of women coming out of the
cave, smiling and happy. The group comes forward, splitting to either side of
you, leaving a path to the cave and a path behind you leading back. “Welcome, you’re safe.” You step
forward, peace settling into your heart. You will never return.
I love these stories about Medusa that go against the common myths
The men at the drinking party sat around laughing at the younger man. “You mean to tell us that a woman was beating her husband? Ha! What a jokester you are.”
“You are probably just too embarrassed to admit you got that black eye from doing something stupid.”
“Besides even if you were telling the truth, just be a man and fight back! Or have you no guts at all? We all know your wife is a spitfire but she is still a woman, and you are a man.”
The young man was used to these responses from the older men of the village, to the point that his heart was turned to stone from it. His wife, whom he had been arranged to marry, was not like most of the other women he had met in his life. She was cruel and truly wicked and often drunk. She took advantage of the young man’s youth and lack of experience. Even if the people thought that she was a weak woman, she knew that she was stronger than her young husband, who had less strength than a hungry dog. And of course, no one would believe that a woman could overpower a young man like that.
On this day however, the young man decided to take a chance. He approached the well where he had often seen one woman in particular talking to the women who had vanished only a day or two before then, and she was there today.
“Excuse me. I have a quick question for you.”
The woman, who was just pulling her bucket out of the well turned to him somewhat surprised. “Yes?”
“Is…is it true…what the women whisper about the Gorgon in the woods…that…she helps women whose husbands beat them?”
The woman seemed suspicious of him at first, “Where did you hear that?”
“I just…” the man looked around nervously before removing the bandages from his face to show her his purple-ringed eye and swollen lip.
The woman hesitated before repeating the words she often did to many others, “
Go in the night,” she said, “when he-…she is so drunk he sleeps heavily. Take only what she won’t notice is missing. Don’t worry about clothes or food, she will provide. You will be cared for. Why would you want to return?”
Before the young man could even thank her, his wife stormed up behind him, “What are you doing talking to another woman!?”
The young man hesitated before the woman at the well said, “He saw me struggling with my bucket and came to help me. Nothing more.”
“I see.” his wife grumbled, clearly still skeptical.
A few nights later, the young man fled. He was quiet and stealthy, until he got to the forest, where he quickly pushed forward into a sprint. He ran and ran, doing his best to remember the directions to the place that promised safety.
Once at last he came across the cave, he stood panting at its mouth before taking his first steps in. He soon found himself in a big lit chamber, women whom he had recognized as from his same village sat around. Some drinking and eating, others playing games, others braiding each other’s hair. But when he entered, they all looked up at him, some in surprise, others in shock, or fear.
“What is a man doing here?” they whispered, “Has the village sent a mercenary after Medusa?” “Are we no longer safe here?” the whispers grew into an almost deafening cacophony of the same hopelessness he felt back in the village. Surely, he thought, these women who are fearful of their husbands would not want to welcome a man among them. Perhaps I should have stayed at home, and let them be.
However, when he turned to leave, he found himself face to face with the gorgon woman. Her eyes seemed to pierce deep into his very soul, as if to weed through the annals of his true self.
His mind raced, trying to think of what to say to defend himself against this protector of women, to justify his entrance into this blessed sanctuary for the broken and beaten. But before he could part his lips, she spoke.
“Fear not my sisters. Look upon the wounds on his face. He too has come hear for safety from violence. Look into his eyes. He is afraid and hurt, as many of you were when you first came to me. Young man, you are welcome here, for this is a place of safety from cruelty. I know all too well that the hardships of life do not discriminate those of whom they strike against. Come, to your new home, and meet your sisters. Come and be safe.”
She gently took his bundles and began to carry them away, and when she looked back at him to see if he was following, he felt her eyes peer deep inside him, and begin to shed away the stone that had encased his heart.
(I hope you like this addition because male abuse victims also need happy endings.)
