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sylwritesstuff · 9 months

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Aziraphale and Crowley don't communicate and it stems from their first meeting.

Let me explain.

Before the Beginning, Crowley is at his most honest and his most vulnerable. He tells Aziraphale so excitedly all about stars and how long it's hoping to take for them to form.

Aziraphale is also bluntly honest (a trait he never really loses but does learn to temper) in telling him about the 6K year timeframe.

Crowley then mentions creating a suggestion box and Aziraphale frets over him, concerned already, and we all know how much trouble Crowley got in for asking a few questions.

This sets the tone for everything after.

Crowley stops being honest - "I'm a demon. I lied." - which also means Crowley has been disparaging his own demonhood at least since Aziraphale looked at him askance on a wall and said, "You're a demon. That's what you do."

Aziraphale stops trusting him, but he never stops being polite. Crowley doesn't attack him, so he doesn't attack either. Not at the Ark, and not with Job's goats. Aziraphale is still vaguely seeing the angel he saw in the stars.

Crowley even gives him the permit so he can doublecheck that everything's above board, so to speak. Then we've got Crowley lying straight to Aziraphale's face about killing Job's children because Crowley still sees the angel in the stars who told him the world and his nebulae were going to prematurely end.

The angel who let kids die in the Flood.

Yes, the angel who shielded him on the wall and gave away a flaming sword, so there's some comfort that he won't instantly get smote - "smitten" 😇 - but still the angel who staunchly toes the party line.

After all's said and done and Aziraphale cries about being fallen - cries over being just what Crowley is, even after seeing Crowley circumvent Hell's rules - Crowley tells him he won't tell anyone.

Crowley is good at not telling anyone things, but so is Aziraphale.

Season 1, we get this. Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale about the hellhound until the last minute. Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley about finding Agnes's book. Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley he's meeting with Nazis, and Crowley certainly never tells Aziraphale how he knows them.

Season 2, we get more.

Things Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley:

• Deringer in a carved out book and gun license

• Drivers license he's had for 90 years - as long as Crowley's had the Bentley

• Why his French is so bad (not until he's asked a direct question)

• He knows Crowley likes to rescue him

Things Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale:

• Beelzebub dragged him to Hell and made him an offer

• He'd never shot a gun before

I'm sure there are more things I'm forgetting, but those are some of the big ones.

More evidence of their continued lack of communication after the Apocanot is the apology dance. (Although I love it and do need to see Aziraphale do it too.)

Crowley is not wrong, and Aziraphale is not right. They are both both. But that never gets discussed, which is why Crowley never has to talk about being brought to Hell. He never talks about Aziraphale being threatened by Extreme Sanctions.

Aziraphale doesn't know why Crowley comes back, but he very likely assumes it's because Crowley wants to do the right thing after all. Aziraphale is still thinking about the angel Crowley was (season 1, "You were an angel once") and sees every single instance of good as PROOF that Crowley could/should/wants to be an angel again.

Additionally, some of the things they do say don't get heard. Aziraphale likes to tell someone he's doing good now that he's no longer reporting to Heaven. Crowley teases him for it twice, back to back. Tone of voice and "doing good again, angel?" after Maggie says something about the rent.

Aziraphale craves being told he's doing the right thing. Aziraphale has been pushed into a place where he won't get that from the place he always has because Heaven is out of reach. If he'd communicated this to Crowley, who is doing everything he can as always to keep him safe, that Crowley would keep teasing him? That Crowley wouldn't gesture to someone in need and say, "Right. Have fun, angel." Anthony J'acts-of-service Crowley would absolutely let Aziraphale have all the bouncy fun miracles in the world without shame.

Also, when they discuss how to make Nina and Maggie fall in love. Crowley's idea - canopy, rainstorm, vavoom - is absolutely informed by his own experiences, but he doesn't leave it at that. He says he "saw in a Richard Curtis film." He won't let that uncomfortable truth live in reality, pushing it off to humans and film. The realm of fiction, as Aziraphale immediately latches onto.

They don't talk about themselves. They don't talk about being an US. They said their side without getting into the nitty gritty of what that means to the point where neither knows where the line is.

Aziraphale says our car and when Crowley refuses because my car, Aziraphale also says they both get use out of the bookshop. Our car, our bookshop. It's a melding that Aziraphale assumes is perfectly natural, but Crowley hasn't seen it that way. They haven't talked about it.

And when they finally do, Aziraphale is running on the assumption that because Crowley does good and was happiest as an angel, looking over a colourful nebulae - so happy with it, he didn't want to lose it and ended up Falling for it - of course Crowley would want to go back. Of course Crowley would want to be in charge (second in command) since it means doing what they do on a larger scale.

Crowley, however, is still keen to keep going as they have been. Alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz, fixing up the bookshop like nothing happened, getting Muriel away so it can just be the two of them. Crowley is ready for the status quo. Although he does have new knowledge that the car and the bookshop are theirs, he and Aziraphale still carried the plants back to the Bentley.

They are still not talking.

And when they do, it's too little and it's too late. And they never ask each other why.

Next season, they need to learn how to ask why. And I have faith they will.

#good omens season 2 spoilers #GOS2 #Good Omens spoilers #Good Omens 2 #Good Omens #Ineffable Partners #Communication is key #Meta #Good Omens meta

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mumms-the-word · 1 month

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Gale and Mystra (and Mystra, and Mystra...)

I did a rabbit hole deep dive into this a few days ago and I have Thoughts. Prepare for long/researched explanations (and by researched I mean I read a lot of wikis and scraps of lore books/novels)

So Mystra dies in the Forgotten Realms something like three times (the “official” number is wibbly because there are many writers messing with Forgotten Realms lore and they don’t always agree). She dies in -339 DR, and then again in 1358 DR, and then kind of again a few months later. Allegedly she stayed dead until 1479-1480, which is roughly 12 years prior to the events of Baldur's Gate 3, but didn't get her body back until 1487, which is 5 years before BG3, which takes place in 1492 (if we're going by the Baldur's Mouth Gazette year).

So...what do we do with that and the current popular theory that Gale was groomed as a child?

If it sounds complicated, don't worry, it's more complicated than you think. Welcome to my TEDTalk. More under the cut.

Mystryl, the first goddess of magic (like, ever) dies hundreds of years prior to the events of BG3 during the Karsus/Netheril debacle. Karsus tried to steal her deity/power and succeeded only to realize his mortal body/mind couldn’t contain or control that much power. Mystryl sacrificed herself (her essence, her power) to keep it out of Karsus’s incapable hands. The Weave went wonky for an indeterminate but brief amount of time, during which the floating cities of Netheril crashed to the ground. This happens in -339 DR, over ~1700 years before BG3. Gale tells us a brief version of this story in his standard dialogue. It's also established lore in campaign books.

Mystryl was reborn as Mystra (still in -339 DR), and this Mystra lasted for AGES. This Mystra is the mother of all magic, the Mystra we basically think of as BG3’s Mystra. This is the Mystra that met and claimed Elminster as one of her Chosen (later they became lovers, it's a whole thing).

But this is complicated. Because in 1358 DR…she dies too.

Long story short, for a brief moment, the Overgod Ao forced all gods to walk Faerûn in their mortal avatar forms and denied them entry into heavens (this was called the Times of Troubles, very complicated, the point is, gods were walking the earth as mortals). Mystra decided to fight Helm, the god guarding the stairway into the heavens, and got promptly smote.

Smitten? Smited? Whatever. Helm DESTROYED her. Death #2.

This time, Ao chose a mortal girl named Midnight to replace Mystra. He imbued Midnight, a wizard girl who worshipped Mystra, with Mystra's powers (Mystra conveniently left an amulet behind with some of her power contained within). Incidentally, the Weave didn't die this time like it did the first time. Convenient!

Midnight-Mystra lasts less than a year before Shar and Cyric (god of trickery) kill her and the Spellplague happens. The Spellplague is basically 10 years of magic going haywire and the Weave kind of ceasing to exist. Again. It's complicated.

Ignoring that some Forgotten Realms writers insist the Spellplague didn't happen, BG3 says it DID. One book in BG3 states:

In the infamous, calamitous year of 1385 DR, a conspiracy between the goddess of darkness, Shar, and the god of trickery, Cyric, sought to end Mystra's control over the Weave and influence over the realms by cravenly assassinating her. But instead of merely breaking the goddess of magic's dominance, her death threw the Weave into utter chaos and collapse. Magic spells faltered, or failed entirely. Countless spellcasters were killed or driven insane... Toril would face nearly a hundred years of upheaval before Mystra could return once again, reinstated as goddess of magic in 1480 DR, thanks to the efforts of the legendary wizard, Elminster Aumar and the events of the Second Sundering...

(Curiously Gale’s Countermeasure Abberation at the Netherbrain fight is called Spellplague so...do with that whatever you want. I mean, I know that’s the Countermeasure for ANY wizard in the party but it feels particularly interesting for Gale. Also we're going to ignore the Second Sundering in this post because that's a whole different rant, just know that the Second Sundering means the state of the world and the pantheon of gods basically got soft reset and then locked into place. Which is why it was important for Mystra to return before that happened, or else she would have gotten locked out of returning at all.)

As far as I can tell, between 1385 and 1479, Mystra was silent. Maybe dead, maybe not. There's some suggestion that she existed in the Weave, because other than the Spellplague period, the Weave still existed. The fact that the Weave exists separately from Mystra is important mostly because Shar wants to turn it into the Shadow Weave, which she can't do if Mystra is alive and maintaining control over the Weave. And if Shar can't control the Weave even while Mystra is silent for 100ish years, then...well. Mystra must not be dead-dead.

More importantly than Shar Politics, her being maybe-dead for almost 100 years means she wasn't whispering in the minds of her Chosen the way gods like her normally do. The wikis mention a comic ("Lord of the Darkways") where Mystra spoke directly to Elminster's mind, but that's the only instance before 1479. Mystra was SILENT before 1479...or at least, very, very, very quiet.

So what happens in 1479? Well, long story short, according to the novel Bury Elminster Deep, Elminster travels to a cave where there is a bear carrying some Mystra's remaining essence/power. Why a bear? I have no idea. Point is, she speaks directly to Elminster and confirms that she is, indeed, Mystra. Specifically, she's pre-Midnight Mystra and also...changed into a newish Mystra.

This is some of what Elminster thinks/says when he's speaking with her and notices she's guarding some artifacts:

“Ye collected these things when ye were Midnight?” El blurted, trembling in a sudden chaos of wanting to know so much, yet not knowing what he dared ask. Her love—or at least fondness—was in his head and all around him, but something was subtly different in it, a distance that had not been there once, or rather one that had grown since Midnight had ascended to replace the Mystra his far younger self had first touched and tasted. Gone was the Mystra whose mind would long ago have merged with his to let them converse wordlessly, thoughts flashing.

Bear!Mystra has been guarding things that Midnight!Mystra collected, things that were important to Mystra!Mystra. Confusing, I know. So who is this current Mystra, speaking to Elminster as a bear? This is the Mystra that would then go on to become lovers with Gale.

Now, I'd argue it's basically all the same Mystra. There was Mystryl and then there was Mystra in her many forms. The Mystra that become lovers with Elminster when she selected him as her Chosen 1300 years ago is the same Mystra that took Gale as a lover too—even if she's died and transformed a couple of times.

It’s worth noting that the novels also sort of mingle all the Mystras into one. In the next novel, Elminster Enraged, when another character called the Simbul (another Chosen of Mystra who is also Mystra’s daughter) is speaking with Mystra, they talk about how Mystra has memories both of previous Mystras and of several Chosen. When the Simbul asks if Mystra can sense her current Chosen, Mystra confirms that she can sense her daughters and Elminster.

“Wasn’t that the Mystra before you?” The Simbul dared to ask. Echoes in the Weave, my daughter, echoes in the Weave…we see and feel so much that happened before us, in the Weave; it becomes part of us, the memories of the Mystra who birthed you becoming part of me, so I become that Mystra…

Anyway. Mystra is Mystra. Basically the same Mystra she's been since the fall of Netheril. Why does that matter? Well.

When Elminster is talking to bear-Mystra, she gives him a command: “I charge you to preserve magic wherever and whenever you can” and also; “Recruit new Chosen and gather them here for me to confer with. I need many, and they must be different from my daughters and from each other…and above all, I must have those I can trust.”

Okay, granted, this specific command probably doesn't apply to Gale. Gale never talks about being gathered as Chosen to help usher in Mystra's return. Remember, she's gathering Chosens so she can restore herself to godhood before Ao clicks the "Save" function on his universe post-Second Sundering. That's what this command is referring to.

Elminster does end up choosing several potential Chosen for Mystra (plus he goes on to steal a whole bunch of magic and gives it to Mystra to restore her back to godhood; this happens at the end of Elminster Enraged). Elminster spends part of Bury Elminster Deep, Elminster Enraged, and The Herald (three back-to-back novels) gathering Chosen or...well, killing corrupt Chosen and stealing their power to give back to Mystra. Mystra begins speaking into the minds of those who worship her in Elminster Enraged (around 1480) and the end of that novel has her appearing as a very grand spirit type of lady, but she's only seen restored to her actual corporeal goddess body at the end of The Herald, which is set in 1487.

So what does this have to do with Gale??

Simple. I have two theories.

Theory 1: Larian just ignores timelines and maybe wanted to create a new grooming narrative for Gale

Listen, Larian has a ton of writers and not every writer can be expected to maintain ALL of the lore Ed Greenwood and other writers wrote for the campaign books and novels. The Forgotten Realms is like 40+ years old. It's been through every iteration of D&D rules. Mystra dies every time the Wizards of the Coast revamps their magic rules, to the point where Ed Greenwood literally had Elminster say, in one of his novels, “I think Mystra’s fall was part of a cycle fated to happen again and again, as the Weave—as all magic of this world—needs renewal.” Elminster fourth-wall calls out a "fated cycle" that is just WOTC remixing magic rules.

Hell, maybe Larian knew that and wanted Gale to be part of the next cycle of Mystra-death-and-rebirth. Raphael certainly suggests something similar if Gale ascends to godhood and plans to usurp Mystra. That's a rant for a different post.

Anyway. Point is, it's a lot of lore, and a lot of it contradicted itself before Larian ever got their hands on it. The writers knew enough to know that Mystra picks Chosens all the time and that she's been known to be lovers with her Chosens. They probably took that and ran with it. Gale was chosen by Mystra and become lovers with her and the timelines don't matter, and maybe there are hints that Mystra groomed him as a kid. Maybe Larian just ignored Ed Greenwood's lore that Mystra didn't speak to any of her followers until like 12 years before the game. That's fine!

But if that theory doesn't seem to vibe, consider theory 2 (which for the purposes of this analysis suggests Gale is a cool 35 for convenient math):

Theory 2: Gale didn't actually hear or meet a corporeal Mystra until he was a consenting adult (NOTE: this does not necessarily mean he wasn't groomed)

Brief timeline, again.

1385, Mystra and Midnight both die and anything resembling a goddess of magic goes silent for nearly 100 years. Early 1400s? Elminster hears Mystra's voice but she's otherwise silent for everyone else 1479, Elminster meets Bear!Mystra, begins finding other Chosen of Mystra and gathering power for Mystra 1480ish, Elminster restores power to Bear!Mystra and she Officially Returns (but like, quietly and we still haven't seen her body, she seems to be just spirit and stardust) 1487, Mystra now has a body because she does this Big Reveal at the end of The Herald by entering a room where five of her Chosen are

If Gale is 35 in 1492, then he was 30 when she "officially" had a body again, and 23 when she begins speaking to her Chosen (or those who worship her more broadly) after a century of silence.

Obviously this theory breaks the current ongoing theory that Mystra revealed herself to Gale when he was 8, or at least a young child. However, does the game really support that theory either? Elminster's letter to an ascended God!Gale only says:

Do you recall the day we first met, m’boy? You could have been no more than eight summers’ old, clutching your mother’s apron…

He doesn't say anything about telling Gale that he is a Chosen at the age of 8 or that Mystra personally has an interest in him. Maybe Elminster was just wandering around and met Gale, or perhaps someone wrote to Elminster to tell him there's an exceptionally talented mage boy that he should meet. Elminster doesn't tell us the circumstances of the meeting, so we'll never know. The one thing we do know is that Elminster has known about Gale since Gale's childhood. There's just nothing in his letter proves that Mystra was actively speaking to Gale when he was 8, or even telling Elminster to choose Gale that young.

Keep in mind, if Gale is 35 in 1492, then he was 8 in 1465, well before Elminster had gotten the charge to maintain the Weave and select new Chosens for Mystra.

Then of course we have Minsc's comment that:

While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth I thought it born of caution, after some catastrophe wrought by wizardly men-folk of old. Now I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?

I want to point out that this idea that the Rashemi people hide Weave-touched boys from Mystra's sight is completely new lore. Ed Greenwood explained a bit of how he views vremyonni boys/men being secluded in a series of tweets from 2020. Basically, because a wychlaran (female witch) is also a kind of ruling/religious class in the Rashemi culture, male spellcasters create a power imbalance, especially because they have access to more powerful spells than the female spellcasters. To combat this, male spellcasters are hidden away to avoid political imbalance and end up serving as enchanters/weaponsmiths for the wychlarans. Or they leave and become wizards elsewhere.

The idea that the Rashemi hide the boys away to either a) protect them from Mystra's icky amorous tactics or b) protect their communities from Mystra encouraging grand, destructive ambition in their menfolk, is probably unique to BG3 alone...and that's if we can take what Minsc says at face value.

Can we?

Minsc proves time and again he doesn't think much of wizards. The only thing he likes about Gale is that he can explode. I think he mistrusts male spellcasters in general because of his culture. So his comment could just be Minsc taking a jab at Gale while also not accurately representing his culture (possibly by offering an explanation that he just hasn't thought through all that thoroughly).

The fact that he says "young and prideful boys" is curious, regardless. Does he view Gale as a boy, because Gale is technically younger than Minsc by several decades thanks to Minsc being a statue for a while? Is it derogatory? Is it a remark to say that Gale's ambition is a bit juvenile, as wizard ambitions tend to be? Who knows. Minsc's dialogue isn't always as surface-level as it appears.

So...was Gale groomed?

I guess that depends on your definition of grooming. Adult-to-adult grooming is absolutely a thing. It's a cycle of manipulation, isolation, and gaslighting that leaves one person, the victim, in a twisted, unequal relationship with their abuser. So, yeah, Gale absolutely was groomed by his goddess. Point blank. Period. She rewarded his magical talent with sexual/emotional intimacy. He responded with love, intimacy, adoration, etc., that she was incapable of reciprocating as his equal, because of her power of authority over him (over all wizards) yet she used it to her advantage, and then tossed him aside when it became inconvenient for her. Absolutely she groomed him, and she's an abuser.

But if we're merging Forgotten Realms lore and timelines with BG3 timelines, then our understanding of Gale's perspective of all this shifts a little. Instead of a child chasing after a goddess who is stringing him along, it becomes Gale, the child prodigy, desperately trying to understand magic in a world where the goddess of magic is silent, possibly dead, and the Weave is trying to repair itself after a devastating Spellplague a few decades earlier. It becomes Gale in his teens, not understanding why the others think he's so odd for burying himself in his studies to impress a goddess who might not even care, if she's even alive. It becomes a young adult Gale overwhelmed with awe at the first rumors that Mystra might finally, finally be back, and hearing her voice for the very first time. It becomes Gale, in his late twenties, finally staring into the face of his goddess, someone he's had blind faith in before he even knew for certain she was capable of hearing his prayers. It becomes mid-thirties Gale, who has grown up with a patchwork Weave and a missing goddess, plotting to restore even more power to her by finding an elusive bit of errant Weave and making the biggest mistake of his life. It becomes a story of Gale who probably looked forward to the return of Mystra with so much awe and longing, only to be used and cast aside by her within a dozen years of her return to godhood.

No wonder he felt that godhood was not only well within his grasp, but that he could be a more deserving kind of god.

It's not a perfect theory, and a lot of Gale's dialogue suggests he was a young man, probably early 20s, when he began an intimate relationship with Mystra. He also implies that she spoke to him for some time before they ever became intimate. He describes her first as the Mother of Magic, and then his teacher, and then his muse, and then his lover. So what are we to believe?

Well...that's the frustrating beauty of D&D and Forgotten Realms and Baldur's Gate I guess. The lore is wibbly wobby and malleable. You do what you want with it.

#long post #bg3 #bg3 lore #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #fandom discourse #bg3 discourse #in this essay i will #who let me do this to myself tbh

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phantomram-b00 · 5 months

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So I think about those evidence photos we saw back in season one, and wondered, if that was from Furfur? (Stupid question I know but bare with me)

Like I can imagine Furfur finally caught a break and want to see earth to see what was the rave about, then look and see Crowley walking to somewhere, Furfur was following to say hi or “fuck you you lucky bastard” until he saw Aziraphale there and once he saw them smiling at each other and talking. Furfur internal thoughts must’ve been like ‘no way— they’re—- noo I’m sure Crowley have something diabolical to do with this angel, let me take a picture of this to show to them’ and snap the pictures and runaway. And was going to show but then thought ‘wait a moment, we may not know how to spell….but we aren’t stupid neither I need more proof.’

Then next time period comes around, and he got another break to go back to earth, see Crowley again, and once again was probably going to say hi until he see aziraphale walking into him and they again smile at each other and talk. (Well aziraphale talk about something and Crowley listens with a smile), and Furfur raised an eyebrow and question now ‘huhhh, okay this is interesting Crowley or Aziraphale haven’t smite or smote or whatever that word is! They haven’t kill each other yet, either they’re really good at hiding their schemes or…. No no. No way they could be traitors, n-not Crowley at least. We fought along side each other’ and take a picture again and walks away. Though his gaydar was starting to go off.

Then as the next time period rolls around and this time so aziraphale all alone, Furfur was gonna try to investigate until Crowley come at him and their face lit up once again. This time Furfur was like ‘okay— their closets are made out of glass. I seriously need to show someone this.’ Once more taking a picture and runs off.

Then when Furfur try to show this to a demon, maybe Shax, or Eric or anyone else. They either shrugged saying ‘oh we kinda knew—‘ or ‘huh, who know this was Crowley’s type’. Even Shax was like “how? How? This angel doesn’t seem to be Crowley’s type at all? How is this possible?”. Overall probably wasn’t the feedback he was expecting, not in a good way anyway, so he decided to stop taking photos as there no point.

Until, 1941. He can finally bring Crowley into deep trouble, and also Aziraphale. But given Aziraphale’s magic trick that didn’t happen at all, so Furfur was back to square one. All hope was lost.

Until 2019, when armageddon is coming to a close. He realize while feeling confident in himself, ‘why not add more chaos and sent these to the angel, maybe they’ll have a better response then my side’ so skips over and send the evidence as a biggest fuck you to Aziraphale and Crowley, and once armageddon fails and they were to be eliminated, Furfur had the biggest smile to finally see Crowley get karma after all these years especially the blitz. But of course as we saw they didn’t die, Furfur once again is left baffled and was yelling after that fiasco in his office “SON OF A BITCH I CANT WIN ANYTHING!”

Bonus is that, Furfur did show the copy of the evidence to Beelzebub as a last resort for any kind of punishment. But ze can’t say anything because *cough they rizzed the supreme archangel fucking gabriel* so had to play it nonchalant like “wellllll, we actually kinda knew and you know we did try soooo-“ with a shrug. So Furfur lost hope after that.

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ex-textura · 6 months

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god!Gale on my mind today and it got me thinking!

If he managed to succeed and really did become a deity, would Auric, Ciaran or Jinx (did I miss any of your lovely Galemancers? I hope I didn't? 👀) approve of it? What would their thoughts be on the matter and would the relationship survive in any kind of way, you think?

oh man! This is a difficult question xD

So, I'm of the mind that the gods can't really love mortals in any real meaningful way. While I don't think they're incapable of love necessarily, I think that much power and responsibility would change anybody and even the most well-meaning gods (Gale, for example) will lose their humanity (as it were) in time. So at the end of the day...though they might try I don't think it would really last long term for any of them.

Auric would absolutely not approve. A paladin though he may be, he's not religious. At all. No god ever came to help him or his when they needed them the most. He did that. That was his responsibility. His devotion to his people is where his power comes from (and if there is a god back there behind the scenes pulling the strings on his power he hasn't heard anything from them and that's just as bad). The gods only ever caused trouble, and he knows better than some how ambition can corrupt. He rallied hard to keep Gale away from that sort of power, and if he were to take it anyway Auric would make the hard decision to leave then and there. He's too old, too tired, too responsible for too much to be with someone who's goals don't align with his own no matter how much he loves them.

Ciaran would try. Ciaran, though older than Gale, is too new to this world and to himself and Gale is really all his has (he has his friends but by the end of the game there's a lot of splitting up). He wouldn't be able to get by on his own, or at least he doesn't think so, and so he would cling to Gale and try to make it work. But what Ciaran needs is someone to experience life with. To teach him to cook and to listen to his music and to lay in the sun with. He needs someone who can give him gentle, mortal love and Gale will definitely try because he's so full of love, but the separation there would be too much and eventually it would ruin Ciaran. He already turned down the power of a god once. He doesn't want power, after all. he wants peace.

Naught would stay with him. He wouldn't care. They're the antithesis to ambition though, and would have their own life with Dahlia and Astarion. He would take them back to his life, hunting criminals and sleeping in the dirt (they'd probably find real beds but the boy likes dirt), and would eventually join their relationship regardless of Gale's feelings on the matter. They'd grow distant and one day Naught would probably just stop thinking of the hot nerdy teacher who became a god. Who needs gods anyway? Nosy bastards.

Jinx would try too, if nothing else to say he did. I mean how many people can say they dated a god? What a story that would be! But eventually he'd grow bored of it. He loves the chaos of magic and the spontaneity of life. God!Gale would likely be busy and if not that at the very least too focused on his task. He'd move on bit by bit, before finally telling Gale he just wasn't feeling it anymore. And if a god smote him for breaking up with him? Just another story (if he survives it. If not..he'll at least hope they wrote a play about him or something)

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psychic-refugee · 8 months

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Wenvier Bingo Freespace - Good Omens

Heaven and Hell were, at their core, corporate structures that one simply needed to learn how to finesse in order to get by, or in Crowley’s case, fail upwards.

He had made a hellish honest attempt to be a good demon, smote humans that needed smoting, inspire them to be their worse selves. It wasn’t his fault that every time he had made an attempt, humans had not only beaten him to their own damnation but had come up with something truly vile that he would not have thought of in six thousand years.

After the first few hundred years, he had decidedly given up and simply took credit. If anything, that was what being a demon was all about.

What true demon was honest in memos?

Unfortunately, his accidental achievements meant that the Demonic High Council thought he was competent at his job. In any corporate structure, being competent was the worst of sins and was punished with more work.

Case in point, he was now assigned an “intern.”

Wednesday was not a fallen angel, and Crowley was aghast at the thought that demons could procreate.

“No,” Beelzebub shuddered at the thought, “You’ve done such a damned job at tempting the humans into damnation and creating strife on earth, that she is the manifestation of all their woes. She emerged from the Pit fully formed, as is. She just needs to be shown around a bit.”

Crowly simply smiled and nodded, taking credit but knowing full well that humans had created Wednesday all on their own.

It just galled him that not only was he assigned an intern, but everyone was treating her as his de facto daughter.

As with all powerful demons, they had a dark aspect that manifested itself into things that slithered or crawled in the shadows. Wednesday’s was the spider, delicate white spider silk weaved into a beautiful dress. A gorgeous specimen of a black widow was her constant companion and stood sentry on her shoulder.

If he peered into her black obsidian eyes, he could see a speck of ruby at the center in the shape of an hourglass. If he looked past her and off to the side where the infernal aura was its true self, he could see a shadow of a thousand eyes and her true form.

Although practically a newborn, she had no trouble staring him down in his own poisonous serpentine eyes.

Crowley had no choice, so he showed her around and she learned quickly on her own that humanity was its own worst demon and she simply had to exist.

Meanwhile, at a bookstore in Soho, Aziraphale was being assigned his own heavenly intern.

Xavier was a new angel, a Principality. The first one created since the beginning of Creation.

“He’s supposed to protect communities and guide humanity. Most of us haven’t been around a human in millennia and who can blame us?” The Archangel Michael dropped in with Xavier without calling first and giving no real instruction or helpful information. “You are the foremost human expert in all of Heaven…so here you go,” she turned to Xavier, “Learn about humans and then guide them…or whatever.”

Without any further ado, Michael was gone.

Xavier was as most angels, wearing all white with handsome features and hair of starlight. He looked to be about in his late teens or early twenties, and his angelic attire left a lot to be desired in Aziraphale’s estimation, but at least his pure white hoodie would blend in with humans.

The only real hint of his divine heritage were the veins of gold in his green eyes, a unique feature as most had their heavenly marks on their person.

Aziraphale’s was in a place only Crowley had ever seen.

He wasn’t sure what else to do with the angel other than to take him about on his normal day. When they weren’t reading, they enjoyed walks at St. James’s Park, lunch at the Ritz, and plays. He was glad to see that Xavier enjoyed the fruits of humanity, although he was rather quiet.

The new angel didn’t seem to have any real desire or talent in inspiring humans to their best selves. Aziraphale was at a loss of what else to show him.

That was, until Crowley come to the bookshop with Wednesday.

Her snarky countenance reminded him of Crowley, so she held a special place in Aziraphale’s heart...or the approximate location of where a heart would be in his corporeal angelic form.

With how Xavier got tongue tied and wouldn’t stop staring at her, Wednesday had an affinity with angels it seemed.

The way she had no issue in getting in Xavier’s personal space, she returned his admiration.

Aziraphale was further enchanted when Wednesday turned out to be a voracious reader and lover of books. She even penned a few of her own, his book collection could now boast the entire series of Viper de la Muerte, the first and only murder mystery series written by a Demon.

A few months later, Crowley and Aziraphale had to create a 30 Lazarii miracle to hide the fact that Wednesday and Xavier had fallen in love and married. Any demon or angel who came by would see them snuggled up with each other, Xavier’s wings protectively surrounding her as spiders spun delicate doilies and the like around them. Now they were protected so that neither side would be able to see their love.

When asked why there was such a huge miracle, Aziraphale simply blamed it on an over enthusiastic intern.

“Well, I admire that it didn’t take them six thousand years and two near apocalypses to reveal their feelings for each other,” Crowley teased his angel.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but then gave his demon a kiss to make up for all the millennia they had missed.

Card under cut

#xavier thorpe #wednesday addams #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens inspo #wenvier #wenvier bingo

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balladofthewhitehorse · 8 months

Text

Got smote with another idea for a fic, concept is as follows:

Once Scotland took Wales, England and N.Ireland camping cos he wanted to treat N.Ire to see the stars and try to make the kid closer to them. England took the car keys and drove off with the car, leaving them stranded in the campsite. Scotland was NOT happy at all. Concept: Camping Fic

Scotland wants his family to be closer, and he always liked nature; Biology, geology and archeology are interests of his, so he plans for them to go camping on the coast. Wales is slower to agree - but she agrees to come along, if only because she cares about Scotland and thinks he's got a pretty good idea of bringing Northern Ireland with them, who is still a relatively young and traumatised (I mean, gestures at the Troubles for example) kiddo.

England, on the other hand, is a bastard and wants nothing more than a nice comfy bed and an actual bathtub. He resents the idea of roughing it out and is kind of…just generally unpleasant to say the least. He still goes because he can't stand saying no to Wales' face, but when it looks as if it might rain on the day, he just takes the car-key and goes to the car - but is caught by N.Ireland, who doesn't really want to camp.

Northern Ireland feels a bit uncomfortable away from Ireland, with three individuals much older than him; He's also not keen on nature and feels as though he's letting Scotland down by not knowing the 1001 varieties of rock on the coast (I think sometimes, Scotland would get so passionate about these things, he just rambles and doesn't notice the other person is getting so lost), and so he blackmails England, like 'If you don't take me, I'll fucking scream.'' England tells Northern Ireland to get his stuff together, and picks him up in a drive-by.

As England scoops Northern Ireland and his bag into the car, Scotland is very disappointed and understandably pissed off. Wales is also annoyed, feeling as though England is just deliberately jeopardising their family get-togethers.

Something something, England and Northern Ireland bonding time, Wales calls England and calls him a shithead. They try again.

#hws england #hws scotland #hws wales #hws northern ireland

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nice-and-accurate-ramblings · 9 months

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⚠️WARNING: Good Omens Season 2 Episode 5 Spoilers below the cut!

Don’t click on the read more if you don’t want spoilers!!

Lmao Shax is NOT getting a legion of hell

“I have a permit” “this just says ‘I can do what I want’” kinda energy

“Can I watch?” Crowley is sooo along for the shenanigans

HE GAVE AWAY A BOOK

TWICE?!?!?!

AZIRAPHALE. WHAT.

Okay no but this circles around to that lovely headcanon that he doesn’t actually mind selling or giving away books as long as it’s to the right people

NOT THE FRENCH AGAIN. AZIRAPHALE PLEASE. SHE IS SO DONE WITH YOU

At least his French is better now

CROWLEY IS SO DONE LMAOOO

Shax scary o_o

“You’ve been together long? You and your partner?”

“IT CERTAINLY LOOKS LIKE THAT FROM HERE”

“HES NOT MY BIT ON THE SIDE, FAR TOO PURE OF HEART TO BE ANYONE’S BIT ON THE SIDE, HE’S JUST AN ANGEL… I know”

MR GAIMAN I AM IN YOUR WALLS FOR THAT ONE

Oh he looks DEEP in thought

Shax is going to commit murders. And then take the stairs

WELL THAT WAS A LOT TO PROCESS BEFORE THE THEME SONG EVEN HIT

Theory while the theme song plays: is it a play by Gabriel and Beelzebub to restart Armageddon? Gabs goes missing, everyone is watching the situation, hell sends an army to attack an archangel, war ensues??

“Smited? Smote?” “Smitten” yeah someone here is smitten alright 👀 two someones actually

*leaves* *grabs the bottle of wine on the way out*

Ohhh Nina honey please please please leave her. This is some Grade A Toxic Shit

I want to give Nina a huggg

CROWLEY. STOP. TALKING. YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO SPILL THAT SECRET. THAT IS A VERY IMPORTANT SECRET.

Crowley holy shit

Gabriel holy shit

“My head isn’t built for that” kind of like how Job’s wasn’t built for that? Is he human now????

IN A MATCHBOX?!?!

HE TOOK IT OUT FIRST AND PUT IT IN. THE BOX HE BROUGHT HERE.

If it happens again it’ll seem like an institutional problem? GABRIEL WHAT. THE FUCK.

“Do you want a hot chocolate” 🥺🥺🥺

Oh my god the angels know absolutely nothing about humans

MURIEL!!!!

Uriel and Michael have a wonderful silver and gold vibe happening here

Crowley shut the fuck up you are nice

WAIT AND SEE

I HAVE WAITED. LET ME SEE. L E T M E S E E.

OH THAT’S MRS. SANDWICH

oh Aziraphale you are either so oblivious or so incredibly ace or both

Aziraphale really said WE ARE HOSTING A BALL

Ohhh Nina I am giving you the biggest hug. You’re better off, queen 🥺

“For once in your life, trust somebody” “You’re weird!!” Correct response. He is weird. But yeah listen to him.

JIM WHAT ARE YOU WEARING

AZIRAPHALE THIS IS INSANE AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

“YOU YOUNG PEOPLE” SHSHDJFJFKG

Oh no Maggie you need to run. Like. Now.

Thank you Crowley 😭

Okay Aziraphale this is uh. Weird. This is getting creepy fast.

Is she… you know… a seamstress 👀

I now understand why choreography was needed for this episode

Aziraphale’s face when watching them dance,, it’s the toesy-woesies face,,,

Gabriel is being flirted with en masse and is entirely oblivious

PERHAPS YOU COULD TELL ME WHILE WE DANCE

I-

I AM

HAJSKDKDKDKFNGKKSKFJGKHLLDKF

Shax I swear if you interrupt this I will find a way to reach through the screen and strangle you myself

“I know I’m hard work” “I’m not afraid of hard work” Maggie and Nina have my whole entire heart agghhh

THEY ARE DANCINGGGGGG

Aziraphale you are really not underestimating how much trouble you’re actually in

Oh fuck oh shit oh no

“You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will.” Someone explain why I am about to cry.

THE COAT, GABRIEL WHAT

oh no the two tiny half miracles were too effective

T-O-S-T-E. TOAST.

CROWLEY GOING LAWYER MODE AHSHDJDJF

Oh my god he made it up I love him. I love him so much this is 🤌🤌🤌

Oh hi Mr. Brown you’re about to get murdered.

HM. YEAH HE UH. HE DID GET MURDERED.

“Have you got your hand in” “oh I’ve got more than that” “I bet you do”

CROWLEY YOU ARE IN FACT A GOOD LAD. LISTEN TO MRS. SANDWICH

I-

“Make your own plans” “Oh I am! But rescuing me makes him so happy!” I AM GOING INSANE. I HAVE NO WORDS. I JUST. GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE.

oh hi Muriel!

“Good job! You arrested me!” “You’re arresting me, why would I be trying to trick you?” If this upsets Muriel I am legally obligated to throw hands

WHAT IS HAPPENING

On to episode 6, I am slowly losing my mind 😀👍

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens s2 #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens liveblog

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eddis-not-eeddis · 2 years

Text

Every now and then my parents and the Golden Princess and I will bundle ourselves up into the gas-guzzler and hie unto the Amish produce auction. We always go with great ambitions, but we rarely get there on time (it is nearly a 100 mile drive, and tho my father drives like Jehu son of Nimshi, there is only so much you can get out of our old rust-bucket) and most of us forget our wallets, resulting in a mere 80 dollars scraped together between the four of us. When you want to buy 10 crates of watermelon, 80 dollars doth not suffice.

Tonight we made off with two bushels of peaches at the walloping price of $22 ea. (In context, everyone else got their peaches for about $18 a bushel, but Mama was determined to get those ones, and would not risk it.)

The peaches were our only acquisition, however, and Mama and Papa lost out on every other thing they bid on (except for a few ears of sweetcorn for roasting). Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Plums. Strawberries. Even the peppers my sister so desperately wanted, and the flowers my dad tried to get for my mom.

This wasn't the great tragedy it may seem, for Mom thinks spending more than $5 dollars on flowers is an extravagance bordering on a sin, and we really and truly did not need the tomatoes. Our own are still growing, and we were merely being greedy.

However.

The very last thing my mother had set her sights on was a single basket of broccoli. She wants to make a veggie pizza, and Dad has been pining for broccoli soup. She bid up to four dollars and was outbid by $0.50, and this, dear friends was not to be borne. I had upon my person twenty dollars in ones.

The auctioneer was winding down his spiel "...four-fifty, four-fifty, does anyone bid a five, five-five-five, anyone bid a five...going once, going twice--"

Up shoots my hand.

The Amish man brandishing the broccoli points in my direction. The crowd laughs. (Those broccolis were only worth about $4 to begin with.)

The auctioneer begins droning "Six-six-six."

I am ready to accept my basket of broccoli, when across the crowd, the man my mother was contending with once more raises his hand.

(Keep in mind that I am eating a hamburger throughout this entire scene. Just picture, if you will, myself, hamburger equipped, facing down a balding farmer in overalls. A bandanna is sliding out of his back pocket. The man has outbid my mother several times before. There is blood in the water.)

Before the auctioneer can rattle off his "Seven-seven-seven," my hand is up again.

The auctioneer is a master of his trade, but for all his skill, he cannot keep up with the two of us. Pretty soon my hand is permanently aloft--and so is my opponent's--while the auctioneer rattles off numbers as fast as he can.

The broccoli is nearing my limit. My parents know I only have twenty dollars on me, and my mother digs her elbow into my side and threatens "If you buy that broccoli, you will have to eat it all by yourself!

I do not like broccoli, so my hand falls faster than the millstone which smote Abimelech. The auctioneer keeps going until the Amish man displaying the wares follows my esteemed mother's example and jabs the man in the side with a well-placed elbow.

"SOLD!" The auctioneer shrieks, spitting out the price so fast it breaks the sound barrier and gesturing for his cohort to mark it onto the box before my nemesis can realize how much trouble he is in and stick me with the bill.

Afterwards the farmer came over to shake my hand and offer my mom some broccoli (which she very graciously refused—she felt he earned every bit of that broccoli) and the Amish men thanked me for getting them such a good deal.

I love the produce auction.

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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To Love a Ranger Chapter 11- Aragorn x OC

Aragorn x Issa

Description: Gandalf, Issa, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli arrive in Edoras and help the King get his life back.

Word Count: 2.5k

Issa could do little more than stare in awe as the figure revealed itself to be Gandalf, though he was dressed in white robes and held a white staff rather than his old gray clothes and brown staff.

“It cannot be,” Aragorn muttered in shock. All of them were surprised by the Wizard’s appearance, but Legolas was quick to recover.

“Forgive me,” he said as he bowed down, Gimli following his movements. “I mistook you for Saruman.”

“I am Saruman,” the Wizard answered. “Or rather, Saruman as he should have been.” The girl could do little more than shake her head at him.

“You fell,” she muttered in disbelief, which caught his attention. He offered her a small smile as he nodded.

“Through fire…and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak… I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy…and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I’ve been sent back until my task is done,” he concluded.

“Gandalf,” Aragorn muttered softly as he moved closer to the Wizard.

“Gandalf?” The Wizard repeated both looking and sounding curious, then realization struck him and he smiled. “Yes, that is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name. I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide.” With that he began leading them through the forest.

“One stage of your journey is over,” the Wizard spoke after several minutes. “Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed.”

“Edoras?” Repeated Gimli. “That is no short distance!”

“We hear of trouble in Rohan,” Issa spoke as everyone sort of simultaneously ignored the Dwarf. “It goes ill with the King.”

“Yes, and it will not be easily cured,” Gandalf agreed.

“Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-” he paused when groans rang through the forest, then quickly corrected himself. “I mean, charming......quite charming forest.

“It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn,” Gandalf explained, almost amusedly. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones…that starts an avalanche in the mountains.”

“One thing you have not changed, dear friend,” Aragorn started, making the Wizard look at him curiously. “You still speak in riddles.” That made the two of them as well as Issa laugh. It felt good to laugh again after all the turmoil they’d faced thus far.

“A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days,” the Wizard continued. “The Ents are going to wake up, and find that they are strong.”

“Strong?” Gimli questioned incredulously, earning another groan from the trees. “Oh, that’s good.”

“So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be.”

“This new Gandalf’s more grumpy than the old one,” the Dwarf grumbled as they stepped out of the forest once again. Gandalf whistled a long, high and loud whistle. Just a moment later a great white horse came galloping towards them.

“That is one of the Mearas,” Legolas muttered in awe. “Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell.” Gandalf bowed his head to the horse, which prompted Issa to do the same thing out of respect, before he stroked the horse’s mane.

“Shadowfax,” he explained. “He is the Lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers. Now, go gather your horses. Gimli did not lie when he said that Edoras was a long journey.” Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli nodded before heading to their horses, but Issa stayed behind, staring at the Wizard thoughtfully.

“Gandalf, about what happened in the mines,” she trailed off slowly. Yes, she’d been thinking about the mines again. The last time she’d talked to him, they’d been in a fight about Pippin. It weighed heavily on her when during his time in death, and now that he was here she wished to make things right. Gandalf seemed to sense that because he spoke before she could continue.

“If there is something you wish to say then I suggest you get it out of the way before they return to us,” he informed her before climbing onto his horse and facing her, a small and reassuring smile on his face. “But, if you are going to apologize, I think it would do you good to know that Gandalf the Gray forgave you the minute he began his fall.” His response brought a smile to her face as joy coursed through her. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but she could do little more than nod before Hasufel and Arod appeared beside them with the three hunters.

“Come, Issa,” Aragorn instructed softly, holding out a hand for her. She smiled at him and took his hand, climbing onto Hasufel with his help. Once she was settled, they were off.

“Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld,” Gandalf announced as they stopped to look at the kingdom in front of them. “There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan…whose mind is overthrown. Saruman’s hold over King Theoden is now very strong.” Issa shared a concerned look with Aragorn, who sat behind her.

“Be careful what you say,” the Wizard continued. “Do not look for welcome here.” With that the three horses continued their journey into Edoras. As they rode through the kingdom people stared at them. It was completely silent as they stopped in front of the Golden Hall in which King Theoden resided. Issa climbed off Hasufel with Aragorn’s help then looked around as the townsfolk all but surrounded them.

“You’ll find more cheer in a graveyard,” Gimli grumbled, earning a warning look from Issa as she followed Aragorn and Gandalf up the steps of the hall. Just before they entered they were stopped by a small group of guards.

“I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame,” the captain spoke. “By order of Grima Wormtongue.” Issa looked at her companions unsurely, but Gandalf merely nodded, which signaled them to hand their weapons over. The captain held out his hand to the Wizard.

“Your staff.” Gandalf hummed, looking at the staff for a moment.

“You would not part an old man from his walking stick.” The guard looked worried for a moment, but ultimately turned to lead them inside. The Wizard stayed long enough to wink slyly at Aragorn before following the guard, holding onto Issa’s arm while Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn followed. The captain stopped at the door and allowed them to pass. Inside they were greeted with a decrepit looking Theoden with a slimy looking person Issa could only assume was Grima Wormtongue beside him. Grima leaned over and whispered something into the King’s ear that the girl couldn’t quite hear.

“The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late…Theoden King,” Gandalf said as a form of greeting as they stepped further into the room. Out of the corner of her eye Issa noticed a group of menacing looking guards following them at a distance off to the side. Grima whispered something to Theoden.

“Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?” The King asked before looking to Grima, almost as if seeking approval.

“A just question, my liege,” the Man (if you could call him that) agreed as he stood, walking towards them. “Late is the hour…in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest.” Issa turned her head just a bit when she noticed that the menacing looking guards were growing closer to them.

“Be silent,” Gandalf snapped, which caught her attention. “Keep your forked tongue between your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.” He lifted his staff in front of Grima’s face, which shocked him.

“His staff,” he gasped, falling to his knees in his surprise. “I told you to take the Wizard’s staff.” With that the menacing group moved to attack, though Aragorn, Issa, Legolas and Gimli were able to take them down with ease.

“Theoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the Shadows,” Gandalf spoke directly to the King. Grima, who had been pushed to the ground by Gandalf, attempted to get up, but Issa quickly put a stop to it by placing her foot on his chest and a sword (which she’d nabbed from one of the menacing guards) to his throat.

“I would stay still if I were you,” she hissed, causing him to cower helplessly.

“Hearken to me!” The Wizard called above the room. “I release you from the spell.” With that he held up his hand and closed his eyes, only to reopen them when Theorden laughed mockingly.

“You have no power here, Gandalf the Gray.” It seemed that was all the Wizard needed to up the ante because he threw off his gray cloak angrily. Theoden was thrown back by a bright white light, one that Issa recognized from Fangorn Forest.

“I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound,” he sneered, thrusting his staff forward, which threw the King back once again.

“If I go, Theoden dies,” the King spoke, though it wasn’t his voice. It was Saruman. The Wizard moved closer to Theoden while shaking his head.

“You did not kill me…you will not kill him.”

“Rohan is mine!”

“Be gone,” Gandalf shouted back.

Without warning Theoden jumped up from his throne and lunged at him, but the Wizard thrusted him back with his staff once again. The King slumped forward and a blonde girl Issa hadn’t seen before rushed forward to stop him from falling. Everyone watched in awe as Theoden’s face slowly changed. His hair and beard shortened, and he looked much younger in general as his once milky eyes cleared to reveal blue irises. Those blue eyes turned to the girl quizzically.

“I know your face,” he muttered quietly, which made the girl smile tearfully. “Eowyn, you are Eowyn.” The girl, Eowyn, cried with happiness and hugged the King. Issa glanced back at Aragorn, and the two shared a smile before facing the King again. He patted Eowyn’s back as he looked around the room, stopping on the Wizard.

“Gandalf?”

“Breathe free air again, my friend,” the White Wizard said with a small smile. Theoden stood up shakily, lifting his hands and rubbing them.

“Dark have been my dreams of late.”

“Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword,” Gandalf mentioned, motioning to one of the guards. The guard stepped forward and held out a sword to the King. He took it and lifted it, staring at it wonderingly. Then his eyes trailed the room once again until they landed on the floor beside him, where Grima still laid under Issa’s boot.

Without a word the King suddenly stormed over to the scum. Issa barely had time to move before he yanked Grima up by the collar. Everyone followed him as he all but dragged the Man out with a guard’s help. Grima was thrown out of the Golden Hall. He fell down the stairs with Theoden following him (albeit falteringly).

“I’ve only….ever served you, My Lord,” the Man stuttered as he crawled backwards on his hands. Theoden continued to advance on him, however.

“Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!”

“Send me not from your sight,” Grima begged. Theoden disregarded his plea and raised his sword above Grima’s head, as if to kill him. He likely would have if Aragorn hadn’t rushed forward and grabbed the King’s arm.

“No, My Lord!” He exclaimed, then lowered his tone. “Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account.” The King didn’t look happy about it, but he saw reason and lowered his sword. Issa sighed in relief, then turned and held out a hand to Grima, but the Man merely spit at her then scrambled to his feet, pushing past the crowd of townsfolk that had surrounded them. The girl scrunched up her nose as she wiped her cheek with her sleeve, then nodded reassuringly when Aragorn shot her a concerned look, silently telling him that she was okay.

“Hail, Theoden King!” The captain of the guard called. All at once the townsfolk kneeled before Theoden. Issa followed their lead with the rest of the Fellowship following as well as those in the Golden Hall. Theoden merely offered them a smile and nod before looking at Eowyn beside him.

“Where is Theodred? Where is my son?”

Eowyn was forced to be the one to tell her uncle that his son had passed from his injuries after a battle with Orcs from Isengard. A funeral was planned and carried out for the Prince, and the Fellowship was given permission to watch it with the rest of Edoras. Issa, despite not knowing the Prince (or even seeing him before), couldn’t help but tear up as she listened to Eowyn’s mourning song and watched tears threaten to fall from Theoden’s eyes. Once Theodred was carried into the tomb everyone dispersed to allow the King to mourn his son in peace. When the Fellowship returned back to the Golden Hall they were surprised to see Eowyn with two children - a boy and a girl no older than ten and eight.

“They had no warning,” Eowyn explained as the children ate like they hadn’t eaten in days. “They were unarmed. Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree.”

“Where is Mama?” The girl asked as Issa wrapped a blanket around her. The girl merely shushed her in a soothing tone before looking at Gandalf when he spoke.

“This is but a taste of the horror that Saruman will unleash,” he informed Theoden. “All the more potent he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from you women and children. You must fight.”

“You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak,” Aragorn added. “Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their King.” Theoden shook his head before standing up.

“They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war.”

“Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not,” Issa retorted, walking over to them.

“When I last looked…Theoden, not Issa, was King of Rohan.” The girl’s gaze fixed into a disapproving glare at his childish response.

“Then what is the King’s decision?” Gandalf (thankfully) spoke before she could open her mouth. Everyone watched Theoden, awaiting his answer.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x oc

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eyelessfog · 1 year

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okay anyway so big important stuff: its the UNVOA angel au. its just pokemon b&w. and im so so focused on team plasma because ummm i like them. mwah. anyway N was picked up from the forest as a child. hes a natural angel, right? and we made reshiram his like. his dad basically. raised him because N could hear him.

and then ghestsis took N because this kid was a whole entire angel and thats. huh. but he didn't get out Okay. because reshiram smited him. smote him. screwed him up in his right arm and the right half of his face. but he didn't die, yk? but the fact that he ACTUALLY met god does make him worse. and hes like oh so i CAN get gods attention i just have to. i dont know. do this and this and that.

anyway so we're talking about anthea and concordia now. if you dont know who that is thats okay but i like them :] basically theyre 2 characters with tiiiiiny roles but theyre basically N's caretakers. and no one really thinks about them? except for me and a couple others. but anyway. my obsession, the two of them.

anthea has pink hair and she kinda looks calmer? concordia is blonde and looks a little more excitable. i gave them personalities.

okay so one bit that was always important to me was that these two aren't angels. theyre literally just N's caretakers. but theyre also his sisters because he loves them sos sososo so much and they love him sososo much. they have, since the beginning, known what ghetsis was up to. he told them, then threatened them for their silence. the thing is, they don't know what to do about it. because he gave them a better life - better food, better bed, better place to live. they should feel grateful. but they don't . because they're terrified of him and both of them deal with it in different ways

anthea has a freeze and fawn response. when she gets scared she goes quiet and does her best to be small and perfect and whatever gets her out of trouble. concordia has a fight and flight response. she needs to do something about it, needs to fight back, take whatever comes at her - she can't keep still

and both of them hate the other for it. "if you would just keep quiet, he'd get less mad and then we wouldn't get in trouble." "if you would just speak up we could fight back against him and then he wouldn't bother us."

it takes years for the two of them to become friends. longer still to become sisters. but it happens, and when it happens, it all becomes just a little easier.

they both love N, and both of them try their hardest to work stories with morals they think N will need into their stories. he has to understand that he can't always trust the person closest to him. he can't always trust that someone promising perfection will give it to him. he has to understand, someday, that ghetsis is using him, and they don't mind if he has to stop trusting them for this to happen.

[anything for N. they'd give up anything for N. even if they're giving up his love.]

they're... fucked up, the both of them. fucked up and pushed to the side because they know how to smile, because they've lived this hell for long enough that they know how to convey the emotions they want to convey, and keep the ones they don't close to their chest.

N is innocent. he's confused. they're guilty and they're scared.

when they get out - when they all get out - they're traumatized and they're dealing with it. Not well, but they're dealing. and also concordia gets to watch ghestsis die so win for the her community. they have mental issues, both of them. im gonna have to go double check which ones it was but anthea i think had delusions and hallucinations.

okay wait uhh shadow triad :D these three ALSO have problems. they were taken in at an even younger age than N was, sculpted into being the same person AND were all born angels. three, in christianity, is recognized as a holy number. they each had one set of wings that was their own, and then ghetsis put another two sets of wing symbolism into their outfits, giving them three pairs of wings each. three of them, which is the holy number, and then three pairs of wings, which is even MORE holy number

see the thing is, and this was so fun to think about, 666 is an evil number. a number that people generally consider to be the devil's number, but was used in reference to an awful king. now, recognize that if you put them all together, they have 6 wings each, and there is three of them, so..... 666

sorry its so. awaugh my friend is such a genius for this

anyway. they're fallen angels because ghetsis has them do all his dirty work, and the thing is. one of them is scared of ghetsis. in a different way to the others.

the others trust ghetsis. the others love him. the others think of him as a father, but this one... he can't. ghetsis was just... he was always there. over his shoulder when he did something wrong. caught him when he shouldn't have been able to. there's just... something wrong with it, and he can't... he can't find comfort in ghetsis the way his brothers can.

okay i dont think i can talk about this anymore because now im getting distracted by the other stuff we used to talk about cough cough the pkmn fangame we made up but anyway @ouughhh :} angel au

#[lore texts]

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dailyanneofgreengables · 2 years

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Chapter 10: Anne’s Apology (part 1)

MARILLA said nothing to Matthew about the affair that evening; but when Anne proved still refractory the next morning an explanation had to be made to account for her absence from the breakfast table. Marilla told Matthew the whole story, taking pains to impress him with a due sense of the enormity of Anne’s behavior.

“It’s a good thing Rachel Lynde got a calling down; she’s a meddlesome old gossip,” was Matthew’s consolatory rejoinder.

“Matthew Cuthbert, I’m astonished at you. You know that Anne’s behavior was dreadful, and yet you take her part! I suppose you’ll be saying next thing that she oughtn’t to be punished at all!”

“Well now—no—not exactly,” said Matthew uneasily. “I reckon she ought to be punished a little. But don’t be too hard on her, Marilla. Recollect she hasn’t ever had anyone to teach her right. You’re—you’re going to give her something to eat, aren’t you?”

“When did you ever hear of me starving people into good behavior?” demanded Marilla indignantly. “She’ll have her meals regular, and I’ll carry them up to her myself. But she’ll stay up there until she’s willing to apologize to Mrs. Lynde, and that’s final, Matthew.”

Breakfast, dinner, and supper were very silent meals—for Anne still remained obdurate. After each meal Marilla carried a well-filled tray to the east gable and brought it down later on not noticeably depleted. Matthew eyed its last descent with a troubled eye. Had Anne eaten anything at all?

When Marilla went out that evening to bring the cows from the back pasture, Matthew, who had been hanging about the barns and watching, slipped into the house with the air of a burglar and crept upstairs. As a general thing Matthew gravitated between the kitchen and the little bedroom off the hall where he slept; once in a while he ventured uncomfortably into the parlor or sitting room when the minister came to tea. But he had never been upstairs in his own house since the spring he helped Marilla paper the spare bedroom, and that was four years ago.

He tiptoed along the hall and stood for several minutes outside the door of the east gable before he summoned courage to tap on it with his fingers and then open the door to peep in.

Anne was sitting on the yellow chair by the window gazing mournfully out into the garden. Very small and unhappy she looked, and Matthew’s heart smote him. He softly closed the door and tiptoed over to her.

“Anne,” he whispered, as if afraid of being overheard, “how are you making it, Anne?”

Anne smiled wanly.

“Pretty well. I imagine a good deal, and that helps to pass the time. Of course, it’s rather lonesome. But then, I may as well get used to that.”

Anne smiled again, bravely facing the long years of solitary imprisonment before her.

#anne of green gables #anne daily #anne of green gables daily #chapter 10 #10.1

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sparkly-key · 6 months

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The monster in the mirror

Aziraphale, who has always seen himself as a good being, cannot come to grips with the death and pain he's caused.

An alternate timeline where Aziraphale and Crowley didn't stop Armageddon. Heaven and Hell get their war as Adam Young reshapes and rules the world in his image. Collaboration with WaneMoose

Other parts in the series: (Not) Fine | The ebb and flow of a flatlining heart | When my presence brings you pain | AO3 Written for Whumptober 2023 Day 29 – “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” | Scented candle | Troubled past resurfacing | “What happened to me?” Content warnings: Graphic depiction of a corpse, burns, brands, references to torture, references to multiple deaths.

Aziraphale covered his mouth with both hands, stifling the shout of surprise as he stared down at Madame Tracy’s body in the center of his temporary study. It was exactly as he’d buried it, her flesh warped and charred from where an angel had smote her.

“A-a-a-azir’fell?” Madame Tracy groaned weakly as Aziraphale and his new vessel scrambled to reach her, kneeling at her side.

“It’s me, dear girl,” he murmured, taking her rigid and blackened hand in his. He squeezed it lightly, intending to reassure her, but the woman gave no indication that she felt his touch. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have left you.”

Had Heaven remembered the redhead from the airfield? Did they know it was Aziraphale possessing her or had they forgotten in the chaos that had erupted when Adam had accepted his birthright?

Inside his mind, Mr. Howard Bernard thrashed violently, unwilling to share as Madame Tracy had.

Aziraphale apologized vehemently. He didn’t mean to. The sting of Heaven’s wrath had violently ripped him from Tracy’s body and the angel had fought the force pulling his essence upwards, jumping into the closest vessel he could find.

Madame Tracy had been a willing and receptive possession, offering herself when the angel had explained what was at stake. Mr. Bernard …

Well, he was receptive. But he clawed at Aziraphale’s spirit with vicious strength.

“Th-th-thank … thank you,” Tracy croaked, her breath rattling in her throat as she forced the words out. “F-f-for not … not l-lee-leaving me … me alone.”

Aziraphale wept as he felt the life escape her body, hunched over her for what seemed like hours as he apologized until he was hoarse.

“Angel?” Crowley asked anxiously, gripping Howard Bernard’s shoulder. Aziraphale almost didn’t hear him over Mr. Bernard’s screams inside his head. “That you?”

Aziraphale nodded. “We need to hurry,” he said as he dashed the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “No telling when they’ll send another patrol out, if that one reports humans are nearby.”

The demon watched as Aziraphale slid his arms under Madame Tracy’s corpse, slowly dragging the body back toward the woods. He slipped in the mud, Mr. Bernard’s frail frame too weak to rise. “Crowley, I can’t just leave her there,” the blond pleaded, eyes wide as he met the demon’s gaze.

Wordlessly, his best friend lifted Madame Tracy in his arms.

“’Not your fault, angel,” he lied gruffly.

The angel didn’t last long in Mr. Bernard’s body, too busy warring with the human to hear Crowley’s warning shout as demons swarmed them.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sank down against the wall, biting his fist.

It wasn’t real. She wasn’t here. He’d buried her properly, prayed for her soul to find peace and offered Shadwell what little comfort he could. (The witchfinder blamed him. He’d hurled insults and curses as the angel stood there and took it.)

It had been loss after loss after that, no vessel as welcoming as Tracy or a hostile as Mr. Bernard as he got better at possessing the humans. Ian Murphy. Brenda Howe. Jaime Newport. They had watched numbly as he led them to their deaths, their silence only breaking when he’d fled.

“I can’t keep doing this, Crowley,” Aziraphale sobbed, Taylor Brown’s hands caked in dirt as they collapsed on Jaime Newport’s freshly dug grave. “I-I need my body. I can’t keep letting them die because of me!”

The demon knelt in front of him, clasping Taylor’s trembling shoulders. “We’ll get yours back, Angel, I promise,” he soothed.

Aziraphale flinched as he processed the word ‘we’ and lurched back. “You can’t!” he insisted desperately, meeting Crowley’s gaze. “I-it’s too dangerous, Crowley. I can’t let you –“

“You’re not ‘letting’ me do anything, Aziraphale,” Crowley growled, his eyes alight with determination. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

(Taylor Brown had sighed in relief as he left their body in Heaven, their corporation crumbling away from Aziraphale’s when they stepped off the elevator.)

With a ragged breath, Aziraphale forced his eyes open and stared at the void where Madame Tracy’s body had been.

At least he’d managed to keep quiet enough to not disturb Anathema, no tell-tale sliver of light visible beneath her door frame. (He hadn’t. The young woman was staring at the door, forcing herself to keep still against the overwhelming urge to offer comfort – a gesture she knew would be shamefully rebuffed with false cheeriness and polite deception).

Crowley –

He lifted his eyes to the demon slouching against the door jam, golden eyes invisible behind his glasses but boring into the angel.

“You look like shit,” Crowley offered, folding his arms over his chest. (He tried hard not to flinch when his hands brushed his body, sending a wave of pain through him.)

Aziraphale gave a watery chuckle. “Sure, the world has gone to Hell. Why should we worry about manners?”

“That was me being nice, Aziraphale. Honestly, I’ve seen Satan shit heaping masses of dung and decay that look better than you do right now,” the demon snapped with an exaggerated eyeroll.

With his posturing, Crowley looked more like himself than he had in weeks, if Aziraphale could only bring himself to ignore the thick bandages on his neck and hands, or the almost-healed cuts and bruises on his face. But the angel could see the way his muscles were coiled, ready to run or strike, whichever he needed in that moment.

“Feeling sorry for yourself again, angel?” the demon hissed. “Might be too late for martyrdom but there’s still a chance Heaven will put in a good word for you.”

Aziraphale recoiled, wounded by the animosity in his words.

He’d called himself soft once, uncertain if he could kill anybody, though that was the reason he’d been put on Earth – to keep humans out of the Eden by any means necessary and to protect God’s wayward creations. (That vicious voice in his head had reared, urging him to recall the executioner and the fascists – He may not have dropped the blade himself, but he certainly had a hand in their demise.)

In the past several months, he’d proven just how wrong he was.

“I am the last person deserving of sympathy, Crowley,” the blond snapped. He inhaled sharply, the strength of it sending a stabbing pain through his side, where he’d been bitten. (Out of all of the wounds, that was the hardest – infernal enough to resist the Grace he poured into it and nasty enough that he shied away from Anathema’s ministrations.)

He waved his hands toward the demon. “I mean, look at what I did to those humans who I possessed – what I did to those angels and demons. Look at what I did to YOU! I’m a monster, Crowley.”

“For someone’s sake,” Crowley grimaced, raking his hand over his face. The gesture pained him, Aziraphale knew, by the way his jaw clenched and Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat. “You terrify me, Aziraphale, but you’ve never …”

The demon swallowed, staring up at the ceiling for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Look, those angels and demons have plenty to answer for – no need for you to lighten the load any more than you already have.”

He stumbled slightly as he headed to Aziraphale, crouching in front of the angel.

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat and he stilled, as though he was afraid a sudden noise would scare Crowley off.

“You’ve never hurt me, Aziraphale,” the redhead assured the principality softly.

#whumptober 2023 #good omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #Anathema Device #Madame Tracy #cw: death #cw: reference to torture #cw: burns #cw: graphic depiction of a corpse #cw: branding

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 9 months

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 3 * PART 2 * BOOK 80 DANIEL – PART III - 2 Daniel 4:26 – 7:8 Okay, good to have everybody in this afternoon, again, and back from your coffee break. Once again we want to welcome our television audience wherever you are. It’s so thrilling to get our mail—I think from every state in the Union now, as well as various places around world. It’s just amazing how the internet, for one thing, covers all the world. We were just told in Branson the other day that we’re on a European system that I didn’t even know we are on. We’re not paying for it, but it covers a hundred million households. So pray for that. You just trust we’ll fill up the Body of Christ and we’ll be out of here! All right, let’s get back to where we left off in the last half hour. We just got started in chapter 5, in case somebody out there missed it. We’ve now gone beyond King Nebuchadnezzar. He’s faded off the scene. He goes into the dustbin of history. His son Nabonidus took over in the meantime. Now in the break time, a lot of you were asking me what the guy’s name was, and I hope you can catch it. N-a-b-o-n-i-d-u-s—Nabonidus—and he was the son of Nebuchadnezzar. But in chapter 5 we’re already into the next generation. Time keeps going, you know. Belshazzar, then, is the son of Nabonidus. He’s the grandson of Nebuchadnezzar. All right, now that’s history. Now, I know a lot of people don’t like history, but if you’re going to appreciate this Book, you’d better learn to love history, because this is what it is. It’s God’s Story. And He’s the One that’s in total control. All right, we were introduced in chapter 5, in the first four verses of our last program, to this King Belshazzar who is blaspheming by using the utensils that were brought back from Jerusalem. They literally stole them from the Temple. But at least Nebuchadnezzar and his son did not commit the blasphemy of using those holy vessels of silver and gold for their drunken banquets. But Belshazzar does. And he’s going to pay royally for doing so. All right, so he brings out all the vessels that had been brought from Jerusalem and uses them in their drunken banqueting. Verse 4: Daniel 5:4 “They drank wine, and praised the gods (the pagan gods which were made) of gold, and of silver, (there’s two products and) of brass, of iron, (there’s four) of wood, and of stone (six).” And as I mentioned in the closing remarks last time, six is the number of man. So this was something that was totally absent of anything of God’s power. All right, now then verse 5. You’ve all heard the story of the “handwriting on the wall.” This is how it all came about. We’re going to take it verse by verse; otherwise, you’ll miss something. Daniel 5:5 “In the same hour (while they’re banqueting) came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king’s palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.” That’s all that was visible, was the part of a man’s hand. Daniel 5:6 “Then the king’s countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another.” Honey! Do you remember? The one and only time that she got up to do something in public, she was glad she was behind something because she said her knees were knocking! And you’ve probably all experienced it. You know, polls have been taken—really. What is the most frightening thing that people can think could happen? To speak to a public audience. Well, when I was looking this up—I didn’t say anything to her until now. But she had an experience, and she said never again. But her knees knocked. And she said, “You didn’t hear them?” But see, this is nothing new. This is way back in antiquity. You didn’t know that did you, Honey? Even old Belshazzar’s knees were knocking. All right, verse 7: Daniel 5:7a “The king cried aloud to bring in the astrologers, the Chaldeans,…” Now remember, we covered all that in chapter 1.

These were all segments of the magicians and soothsayers, but they had their rank. And the Chaldeans, of course, were supposedly the most intelligent and the most gifted of all these others. Daniel 5:7b “…the Chaldeans, and the soothsayers. And the king spake, and said to the wise men of Babylon,…” Now you’ve got to remember that these pagans did not depend on anything of the God of Scripture. All they knew were the pagan gods and goddesses of all the way back to the Tower of Babel. See, that’s when they really began. All right, so he says to these wise men. Daniel 5:7c-8a “…Whosoever shall read this writing, and show me the interpretation thereof, shall be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold about his neck, and shall be the third ruler in the kingdom. 8. Then came in all the king’s wise men:…” Now, I hope you’ve got enough imagination to picture all this—how that all these astrologers and these soothsayers and these guys that were drawing on demonic power are coming together to try to interpret this handwriting on the wall. But they could not. Daniel 5:8-9 “Then came in all the king’s wise men: but they could not read the writing, nor make known to the king the interpretation thereof. 9. Then was king Belshazzar greatly troubled, and his countenance was changed in him, (In other words, he starts to show his worry.) and his lords (his underlings) were astonished.” Verse 10: Daniel 5:10-11a “Now the queen by reason of the words of the king and his lords came into the banquet house: and the queen spoke and said, O king, live for ever: let not thy thoughts trouble thee, nor let thy countenance be changed: 11. There is a man in thy kingdom,…” Now stop and think. When something like this happened, who should have been the first person to come to Belshazzar’s mind? Well, Daniel! These people were human. They knew what had been taking place in the past. Don’t think that they didn’t talk about things and discuss things like we would. Don’t you suppose that old Nebuchadnezzar shared with his son, and maybe even this grandson, how Daniel had interpreted his dream? And how the three little Hebrew boys were cast into the fiery furnace and never got touched. That was all rehearsed. They knew that. And yet, the last thing they think of is anything that pertains to the God of Heaven. All right, but the queen evidently did. So she said: Daniel 5:11a “There is a man in thy kingdom, in whom is the spirit of the holy gods;…” You see how deep that paganism goes? Even though Daniel had proved over and over—and the other three young Hebrew lads—how the God of Israel was superior over all the pagan gods, yet they try to connect it, if anything, to their own gods. All right, so verse 11 again. Daniel 5:11 “There is a man in thy kingdom, in whom is the spirit of the holy gods; and in the days of thy father (Grandfather, again, we’re going back to Nebuchadnezzar.) light and understanding and wisdom, like the wisdom of the gods, (small g—their pagan gods) was found in him; whom the king Nebuchadnezzar thy (grand) father, the king, I say, thy (grand) father, made master of the magicians, astrologers, Chaldeans, and soothsayers;” In other words, Daniel just put them to shame with his God-given wisdom. Daniel 5:12 “Forasmuch as an excellent spirit, and knowledge, and understanding, interpreting of dreams, and showing of hard sentences, and dissolving of doubts, were found in the same Daniel, whom the king named Belteshazzar: now let Daniel be called, and he will show the interpretation.” Verse 13: Daniel 5:13-14 “Then was Daniel brought in before the king. And the king spake and said unto Daniel, Art thou that Daniel, who art of the children of the captivity of Judah, whom the king, my (grand) father brought out of Jewry? (Or out of Jerusalem.) 14. I have even heard of thee, (Well, I would think so!) that the spirit of the gods is in thee, and that light and understanding and excellent wisdom is found in thee.” But see, who’s he leaving out? The True God of Israel.

The Most High. They’re still leaning on the gods of paganism. It’s just unbelievable, and yet it isn’t. We’re no different today. The world is no different today. All right verse 15: Daniel 5:15 “And now the wise men, the astrologers, have been brought in before me, that they should read this writing, and make known unto me the interpretation thereof; but they could not show the interpretation of the thing: 16. And I have heard of thee, that thou canst make interpretations, and dissolve doubts: now if thou canst read the writing, and make known to me the interpretation thereof, thou shalt be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold (same thing as he said before to the Babylonians) about thy neck, and shalt be the third ruler in the kingdom.” Now Daniel comes forth. Now, how old is he? Have you been keeping track? He’s up in his sixties, maybe even seventies. Remember, he was twelve when they took them from Jerusalem to Babylon. But Daniel has stayed in the high echelons of the Babylonian government all through Nebuchadnezzar’s rule and all through Nabonidus’ rule. And he’s still there with the third one now, Belshazzar. And then, if you want to see something interesting, let’s just jump all the way over, I hope I can find it, to chapter 10. Now this is just to wet your appetite. Daniel 10:1a “In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia (Now that’s the king of the next empire!) a thing was revealed unto (Who?) Daniel,...” Well, I figured it up the other night. He is now 80-some years old—which makes sense. Because how long was the captivity? Seventy years. Well, we know he lived beyond the captivity. How young was he when he went down? Twelve or fourteen. So, twelve plus seventy in my arithmetic is 82. But he’s already going on into the Mede and Persian Empire. And from what I gather, he probably lived to about 93 or 94 years of age, which in antiquity was quite a while. Okay, coming back to chapter 5, again, Daniel is coming along in years. He’s certainly not at the end of it, but he’s probably in his late 60’s or 70’s. Verse 17: Daniel 5:17 “Then Daniel answered and said before the king, Let thy gifts be to thyself, (You can have your gold and your silver, because you’re not going to be around to give it to me anyway. It’s kind of a clue right here.) and give thy rewards to another; yet I will read the writing unto the king, and make known to him the interpretation.” Verse 18, here it comes. Daniel 5:18-19a “O thou king, the most high God gave Nebuchadnezzar thy (grand) father a kingdom, and majesty, and glory, and honor: 19. And for the majesty that he gave him, all people,…” That is for the then-known world, remember—which is only that area out in the Middle East and up to the Mediterranean., as that was about it at that time. Daniel 5:19-20 “And for the majesty that he gave him, all people, nations, and languages, trembled and feared before him: (Because don’t forget, now, that head of gold was absolute.) whom he would he slew; and whom he would he kept alive; (He was absolute in his power.) and whom he would he set up; and whom he would he put down. 20. But when his heart was lifted up, and his mind hardened in pride, he was deposed from his kingly throne, and they took his glory from him:” Daniel 5:21a “And he was driven from the sons of men; and his heart was made like the beasts, and his dwelling was with the wild asses: (that is the wild animals of the forest) they fed him with grass like oxen,….” Now I’ve got to stop a minute. Do you think old Belshazzar knew that? Of course he would have, because he knew Grandpa had been out there in the world with animals. Why, of course he knew. Well, what’s Daniel doing? I think Daniel is just pushing the dagger into the very spiritual heart of this wicked king. He’s reminding him of the power of Daniel’s God. All right, verse 22: Daniel 5:22 “And thou his (grand) son, (Now, I’m making the correction as we go. I trust that you’re seeing that.) O Belshazzar, hast not humbled thine heart, though thou knewest all this;”

They knew it. They knew what kind of a God they were dealing with in reality. But, I can’t help it. Are men any different today? Not one whit. They have no concept of the power of the God of this Book. I doubt if there’s hardly anybody in Washington D. C. anymore that has a true understanding of the God of this Book. Oh, they may give Him some point of a reference, but to really know that He’s in control? I have to doubt it. All right, so it’s no different back here in 500 and some B.C. Daniel 5:23 “But hast lifted up thyself against the Lord of heaven; and they have brought the vessels of his house (that is the Temple) before thee, and thou, and thy lords, thy wives, and thy concubines, have drunk wine in them; and thou hast praised the gods of silver, and gold, of brass, iron, wood, and stone, (all those pagan worthless gods of idols, and you know that they--) which see not, nor hear, nor know: and the (True) God (capital G) the God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose (in other words, who owns) are all thy ways, hast thou not glorified:” Daniel 5:24 “Then was the part of the hand sent from him; and this writing was written. (Now here’s the part I know you all know. This, everybody, I think, realizes—how Daniel came down on him with all the force of the God of Glory.) 25. And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN.” Daniel 5:26 “This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it.” But how many times is the word spoken? Twice. Emphasis. That’s what you’ve got to look for in Scripture. That wasn’t an accident. God is emphasizing that very statement. God has numbered your kingdom. God has numbered your kingdom. And what did he find. “And finished it.” Daniel 5:27 “TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.” Now, I read sometime back, that in antiquity almost the heart of their world was the balances. Everything was established by balances, whether it was trade or buying commodities and everything. It was all on the basis of the balances. You know how they are. All right, so God used that as an illustration that he and his behavior and his absolute rejection of the God of Daniel—because of that the balances were completely against him. Daniel 5:27b “…weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.” Belshazzar, you don’t stand a chance. Now it’s rather interesting that Daniel makes no effort to help this man spiritually. Nebuchadnezzar he did. But this man, he makes no indication. All he’s giving him is his judgment. Which, of course, will fall before the next morning. All right, So “MENE, MENE—God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it.” Belshazzar you’ve had it! It’s over. “TEKEL—You’ve been weighed in the balances and you don’t measure up.” Daniel 5:28 “PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and the Persians.” Now, I don’t know if you know history well enough. While they were sitting in this huge banquet hall there in Babylon; where, of course, the Euphrates River flowed right through the center of the city. Unbeknown to the Babylonians, what had the Medes and Persians done? They had diverted the water away so that the Euphrates going under the wall dried up, and they walked in on dry ground and completely surprised the Babylonians. They were defeated before sunrise. Okay, now that’s the history. All right, the kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and the Persians, which were indicated by the silver of Nebuchadnezzar’s image back there in chapter 2. All right, so verse 29: Daniel 5:29-30 “Then commanded Belshazzar, and they clothed Daniel with scarlet, and put a chain of gold about his neck, and made a proclamation concerning him, that he should be the third ruler in the kingdom. 30. In that night (Not the next one. That same night.) was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain.” Daniel 5:31 “And Darius (The next emperor of the combination of the Medes and the Persians. Now you see, that whole Middle East is so closely connected.

The Medes and the Persians were just off to the northeast of Babylon. And a lot of their government people were intermarried. They were cousins and so forth. So this was all pretty much a family thing, really.) And Darius, the Median took the kingdom, being about sixty two years old.” All right, now then, Daniel moves right on from this Babylonian palace over to the palace of the Medes and the Persians. He continues to be a high government official even in the next empire. Now we come into chapter 6, and we’re going to be dealing primarily with this next kingdom, the Medes and the Persians. It’s this kingdom that will give the Jews permission to go back and rebuild the Temple and Jerusalem. But it will not be under Darius, it will be under Cyrus. And like I’ve already shown you, by the time Cyrus becomes the king, Daniel will be up in his 80’s, and on up into his 90’s before he evidently passes off the scene. Okay, so let’s keep moving verse by verse, because there’s no chapter breaks in the original. Chapter 6 verse 1, the Medes and the Persians are now the ruling empire with the capital over in Shushan. Daniel 6:1 “It pleased Darius to set over the kingdom an hundred and twenty princes, which should be over (or they will rule as authority) the whole (Mede and Persian empire) kingdom;” Which would cover that whole part of the Euphrates Valley and all the way on over to Israel and even down into Egypt. Daniel 6:2a “And over these (would rule) three presidents; of whom Daniel was first:…” Now, you see, this is amazing. I mean, this is, again, the miracle working of God. That here this little fellow Daniel—kidnapped, really, at the age of twelve and taken from Jerusalem to Babylon—becomes from almost the age of 15 a ruling entity throughout the Babylonian Empire, and just moves on over a hundred miles or so to the next capital, or the next empire, in Shushan. Just unbelievable. And he becomes a leader of the empire. All right, so Daniel is the first of the three presidents who gave account, of course, to the hundred and twenty. Now what are you seeing governmentally? Well, Nebuchadnezzar didn’t report to anybody. He did not have a congress. He did not have a cabinet. If he needed help, he called in the astrologers, and so forth, but he had no political organization to which he reported. All right, now you see, by the time we get to the next empire, the Medes and the Persians—you remember when we described the image, the head of gold was totally a singular head. Then we come to the Medes and Persians. It’s down to two. But even the two heads of the Persian Empire have these 120 princes to whom they would report, and then the three presidents. So what have you got? Well, you’ve got the beginning of republic or democracy type of government. It’s no longer an absolute monarch. Remember, that was the whole idea of Nebuchadnezzar’s image of gold, silver, and so forth. All right, so then verse 3: Daniel 6:3 “Then this Daniel was preferred above the presidents and princes, because an excellent spirit (in other words, the Spirit of the God of Israel) was in him; and the king thought to set him over the whole realm.” Daniel is coming close to being the king of the whole Mede and Persian Empire. Verse 4: Daniel 6:4a “Then the presidents and princes sought to find occasion against Daniel concerning the kingdom;…” What was their number one reason? He’s a Jew! That’s what the Gentile world can’t handle. A Jew in our Gentile Empire, with this kind of power? It just ate at them like a cancer. Daniel 6:4b-5 “…sought to find occasion against Daniel…(Because they could see that since God’s power was within him and directed him…)…they could find none occasion nor fault; forasmuch as he was faithful, neither was there any error or fault found in him. (In other words, he had no scandal. He had no dishonesty. He was what a political leader should be.) 5. Then said these men, We shall not find any occasion against this Daniel, except we find it against him concerning the law of his God.”

Now here it comes. The Satanic power was, again, trying to pin Daniel to the wall with regard to his worship of the true God. Verse 6: Daniel 6:6 -7 “Then these presidents and princes assembled together to the king, and said thus unto him, King Darius, live for ever. (That was an oriental greeting that was pretty much used commonly.) 7. All the presidents of the kingdom, the governors, and the princes, the counsellors, and the captains, have consulted together to establish a royal statute, and to make a firm decree, that whosever shall ask a petition of any God or man for thirty days, save of thee, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions.” What are they doing? They’re setting him up. You’ve heard of conspiracies, haven’t you? Well, this is a total conspiracy in order to trap Daniel. And the main reason was their jealousy because he was a good Jew.

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wolint · 2 years

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DIVINE INTERVENTION

1 Samuel 7:7-11 (AMP) 7 Now when the Philistines heard that the Israelites had gathered at Mizpah, the lords of the Philistines went up against Israel. And when the Israelites heard of it, they were afraid of the Philistines. 8 And the Israelites said to Samuel, Do not cease to cry to the Lord our God for us, that He may save us from the hand of the Philistines. 9 So Samuel took a sucking lamb and offered it as a whole burnt offering to the Lord; and Samuel cried to the Lord for Israel, and the Lord answered him. 10 As Samuel was offering up the burnt offering, the Philistines drew near to attack Israel. But the Lord thundered with a great voice that day against the Philistines and threw them into confusion, and they were defeated before Israel. 11 And the men of Israel went out of Mizpah and pursued the Philistines and smote them as far as below Beth-car.

Intervention! This is any interference that may affect or benefit the interests of others. The act by which one protects or defends the interest of another. Elohim is not a passive God, He is actively involved in the lives and affairs of His creation, especially the saints. Where situations escalate and become overwhelming, leaving one confused and unable to aid themselves in any way, God steps in to overcome the overwhelming situation. Jacob faced an overwhelming situation in Genesis 30, with little help from those around him, and no idea of what to do to overcome until the revelation came by divine intervention on how to overcome the issue he faced. There is a time when we feel abandoned by the Lord, seeing ourselves get deeper into a situation that seems to be sucking the life out of us, with no clue of who will help and if anyone will, yet knowing that the situation you’re in is one that needs divine help and intervention. The Israelites in our text probably felt this way. Here they are, gathered in repentance and sacrifice to the Lord, only to hear the enemy coming against them, they obviously considered their gathering as a threat against them, hence the attack on what appears to be holy ground. The Israelite army had lost the battle against the Philistines several times previously, so they had no hope of escaping them again, especially in an unprepared state like this, so they were quickly filled with fear. When we are in Christ, the fear of any situation should encourage us to cry out to the Lord as it did the Israelites, even as Psalm 50:15 instructs to call on the Lord in the day of trouble and He will rescue us from those overwhelming problems. We all need divine intervention in certain areas of life and the Lord is waiting as stated in Jeremiah 33:3, only then would we be directed on what and how to do things. The Israelites implored Samuel to intercede for them; don’t stop to cry unto the Lord for us! The people had strong confidence in the intercession of Samuel because they knew he was a holy man of God, and that God would answer him and intervein for them. The philistines were so anxious to crush the Israelites that they were prepared to go to a religious gathering to do so, not expecting any resistance and without considering divine intervention from the God of Israel. The prophet's prayers and sacrifice were answered by such a tremendous storm, Literally, the Lord thundered with great thunder and confounded the Philistines with a mighty tempest of thunder and lightning, and no doubt slew many by the lightning, that the Philistines, panic-struck, were disordered and fled. The Israelites, recognizing the divine intervention of God, rushed courageously after the enemy they had so feared and overthrew them with such havoc, that the Philistines did not recover for a long time from the disastrous blow. This victory by divine intervention secured peace and independence for Israel. Divine intervention is exactly what the Lord promises us in Exodus 14:14 in saying that He alone can defeat our enemies, we just must call and trust in Him. God is still able to thunder against anyone who threatens you and prove Himself to be your help and defender. Shalom Women of light international prayer ministries.

#devotional biblestudy christianpost women's ministry

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thewhumperinwhite · 2 years

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WKW: The Voice That Shakes The Stones

i apologize for the very long unintentional hiatus. here is a Fairly Long Update as penance. Picks up immediately after The Wolf's Grace.

Also! I don't use iOS, so I don't really understand the new Tags Crisis? so I'm gonna tag this normally, so nobody sees stuff they have blocked, and if it gets flagged it gets flagged I guess. For the record, if you do see this: reblogs are really the only way content gets seen, now more than ever, so if you like this, a reblog will really help it get seen by other people and also earn you My Undying Devotion

WKW masterpost

(god going so long between updates is so dumb what even Was the taglist for this) @whumpitywhumpwhump @faewhump @much-ado-about-whumping @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff

TW for: captivity, manipulation, power imbalances; choking; caning; referenced child abuse; referenced minor character death; loss and grief; referenced noncon.

----

There is a cave under the mountain.

A full Age ago, the Four-Shield King, uniter of Craetalia, built this fortress—though it was no fortress then. The city snaked, at first, down around the mountain, and flowed freely into the fields in the valley below where the crops that fed it grew. Nothing separated farm from Capital, and little enough separated Capital from Four-Shield House, not yet a castle, then little more than a stone homestead, just slightly grander than those around it.

The Lady—Our Lady, Who Dances In The Dark—loved the Four-Shield King. They say she lived with him in body, danced around his stone house in dresses spun from sheep’s wool; left footprints in snow in the courtyard, tracked mud into his halls. It is rare indeed for a god to dwell with mortals so—in a form fanged and horned but also tangible, a form to be held and loved. The Lady could not bear him children, but loved the babies women bore him, pinched their cheeks with gentle clawed fingers, let them pull on her tangled tree-branch horns while they climbed onto her shoulders, carried them up and down the halls and laughed.

The Lady must have known the King would die, as humans do. The King was heavy with years when his time came, by looks many decades her senior; they say by then his old wounds troubled him so that she all but carried him from room to room in his last months. She must have known. Knowledge did nothing to temper her grief.

The King’s death smote the Lady’s heart; the Lady’s grief near smote the mountain.

She screamed when the old King’s last breath left him, and her scream was so loud that it burst a hole through stone and mortar and nearly brought the whole East Tower down on their heads. She sheltered his body with her own—though falling stone can hardly trouble a god—and stayed there, curled around him in the rubble, for many days. When the seneschal—troubled by the thought of his Lord remaining unburied, against custom, and worried, also, that the corpse would begin to smell, approached the ruin, the Lady and the dead King were just visible within it; when the old man cleared his throat, to ask after burial rites, the Lady looked up at him with her eyes so bright with grief and fury that the old man stumbled backward down the stairs and died, from the fall and fright together.

Then the Lady gathered the King’s corpse in her arms, and leapt easily from the tower and—they say it is so, at least—tore open the bedrock of the mountain. She raised her slippered foot and brought it down on the mountain stone of the castle courtyard, and—with a sound that shook the castle down to its foundations—opened a dark crack in the earth, snaking all the way down into the mountain’s dark heart.

She carried her lover down the tunnel she had made, and there she curled around him, and went to sleep. They say her body sleeps there still; she rises, now, only in spirit, to guard the dead King’s children against all ills.

It is hard to say how much of this is true, of course. But there is a cave entrance in the courtyard of the Castle at Colomur, which snakes far back and down into the mountain on which the castle is built, into silence and darkness which no man has been foolish enough to traverse in many, many years.

The Winter King is standing in the entrance to the cave, now, eyeing the darkness beyond with hungry curiosity.

Morden has interviewed many members of the castle staff, some who served the Lion’s father, all of whom grew up within the castle walls. The consensus seems to be this: no one enters the cave in the courtyard, known by the rather amusing title of The Lady’s Mouth. The Lion and his father, both of Fourshield House, direct descendants of the long-ago king who won the Lady’s favor, stood inside the cave itself—just a few feet ahead of where he is standing now—only once, on their coronation day.

The official records Morden has dug up in the castle library, unfortunately, are as backward and credulous as the eyewitness reports he has heard: the King, newly crowned, entered the Mouth, where he was out of sight of the watching dignitaries; they cave was suddenly lit from within, and the King emerged minutes later, holding the Sword of his Fathers, which had gone dark and rusted the moment the previous king had died or ceded his thrown, and now glowed anew. The new King held the glowing sword aloft, and spoke to the crowd in a woman’s voice, loud enough to echo back and forth across the court, vowing to safeguard the people in exchange for their fealty, etc. etc.

The best Morden can extrapolate, from servants’ murmured awe and historians’ insufferable prose, is that the High Fae they call their Lady briefly possesses each new ruler, and then shares her power with them—voluntarily—for the duration of their reign. This official transfer seems to have been the pattern for many (far too many, in Morden’s humble opinion) generations of Fourshield Kings.

The Lady has, of course, broken that pattern, in passing her power to Andry early. Morden still isn’t entirely sure what to make of that—other than that evidently even their Lady, a Fae and thus generally unconcerned with human politics, considered the Lion unfit to rule.

Morden feels he has rather handily proved that the Lion’s son is little better. He steps into the mouth of the cave.

Morden has met few full-blood Fae, and fewer still healthy and at the height of their power; he is not ashamed to admit that he practiced this speech in front of the mirror a few times over the last week. He licks his lips, and bows his head, since the Lady is one of the only creatures in this backwater land truly worthy of his respect.

The little prince—Asher of Fourshield, of the Lady’s preferred line, but a more malleable age than his brother—is standing behind Morden, a respectful twenty feet away from the cave, with Raptor’s head on his shoulders. Close enough, Morden hopes, for the Lady to register his presence, but not close enough to hear what Morden is about to say.

“My Lady,” Morden says, in the clearest Craetalian he can manage, “Karya, Who Dances In The Dark. I come to you with a humble offer.”

There is a faint breeze coming from the depths of the cave, now. It smells very slightly of sulfur. Morden swallows his excitement, and tries to keep his voice steady.

“The line of Fourshield has proven itself unworthy of you, my Lady. Your champion has fallen to me, even with your support. They are not the hosts your patronage deserves.”

Morden bows delicately. The breeze is strong enough to lift the ends of his hair, now, and Morden’s heart is pounding: she is listening.

“You deserve more and better, my Lady. Hear my offer, and consider my plea, for the honor of your great name. I am Morden Crane, the Winter King, Lady Karya. I have come to seek your power, that it may be turned to better purpose than of late.”

Morden does not gesture at the boy standing behind him, as that would rather give the game away; he can only hope that she can see beyond the mouth of the cave, or is willing to take his word. “Behind me stands a son of the House you have long supported, my Lady. Your vessels have grown weak and tainted by luxury, and have come to take your Patronage for granted; but this boy is yet young, and I am here to steer him. Take him as your vessel, and I will see him spread your name beyond this single kingdom—I will see that you are spoken of with awe, beyond the corners of any map yet made, my Lady.” He bows his head again, and puts a gloved hand over his heart. “I ask only that you accept my fealty, and allow him to wield your sword in my name.”

Morden waits, his head bowed, holding himself incredibly still. The cave is as silent as a tomb. The gentle wind has stopped blowing.

The voice, when it comes, shakes the stones under Morden’s feet, and it comes on a burst of wind so strong that it hits him in the chest like a blow, and sends him tumbling back, hitting the stone of the courtyard path with his ass and then the full length of his back.

“FUCK OFF,” says Karya, The Lady Who Dances.

Raven, slouched against a flowering tree in the courtyard, laughs first, throwing her pretty head back. Harpy screeches like a true bird and slaps her knee, leaning against Raven as if for support. Morden does not enjoy this, but it is not a surprise.

He lifts his head, swiping his hair furiously out of his face, and meets Prince Asher’s eyes exactly at the moment the boy’s mouth wobbles into a smile and he lets out a single huff of laughter.

The amusement is gone from Asher’s face immediately, as he has never seen Morden angry before, and stumbles backward into Raptor in immediate terror, but the damage is done.

Morden throws himself to his feet, and does not stop to brush the dirt from his cloak on his way back into the castle.

----

Andry—finally unobserved for what feels like the first time in days—curls up as tightly as he can, wrapped thoroughly in the blanket Thorne tugged from his own bed. That was Andry’s father’s bed, once, but if he starts to think of these as his father’s sheets he will feel them wrap too tight around his still-sore throat, and have to kick them off onto the floor.

They are warm and safe as Thorne’s sheets, at least for now. In the morning, Andry tells himself, he will see Thorne once more for what he is: dangerous, regardless of intent; the lover of my enemy cannot be my friend. But Andry is too tired to be surrounded by enemies now.

Thorne, when he opened the door to Andry’s closet and found him as he had, on his knees surrounded by guards, had looked—more than horrified; he had looked surprised. As if—this is a thought Andry is barely willing to entertain—as if Thorne had literally never thought of using Andry thus. Thorne’s response to the idea—“but you don’t like me"—is almost childlike in its total guilelessness. For now, exhausted, Andry closes his eyes, pulls the covers tight around his shoulders, and lets himself sleep, wrapped tightly in the thought that someone, at least one soul never thought of him as—

And then he is pulled awake, out of sleep he has not even felt until it is shaken out of him by the fist suddenly tangled in his hair. Andry hits the ground blind with horror, aware only of a shouting voice and that violent hand—his hair is just long enough, now, for guards and Wolves and whoever wants to to twist their fingers in, to hold him in place or drag him, now, across the carpet, throw him down at the foot of the bed—

His vision—half-white and spotted with panic—clears just enough that he can see black hair, not silver, and Andry goes weak with relief—at least he can keep Thorne’s kindness a little longer—for one moment before the Winter King finishes tying the thick silk sash from his robe to the top of the bedrail and loops the other end around Andry’s neck.

Morden yanks on the end of the sash, and it goes tight around Andry’s throat, pulls him up onto his knees to keep from choking. Andry scrabbles at the silk around his throat, feeling his eyes fly painfully wide.

“You should be very pleased,” the Winter King says, his voice devoid of all its usual artifice, flat with undisguised rage. “It seems she will not be turned from you. I know not what it is she sees in you. Perhaps she will see it less when I am through.”

The Winter King carries a cane he does not need—polished black wood, with an ivory handle in the shape of his namesake bird, a white crane. Andry’s father carried a cane as well, though less out of vanity, and Andry is intimately familiar with its sting, and raises his hand to guard his belly—except that the sash is pulled so tight around his throat, his fingers twisted under it are all that keeps it from cutting off all air, and he only has one hand.

Morden watches him realize this, his lips pulled back into a not-quite-smile. Then he raises the cane and sweeps it sideways, into Andry’s ribs.

Morden does not wait for Andry to recover from the first blow before he deals the second. The cane cracks against Andry’s ribcage, and then his shoulder; he can feel it bruise the flesh of his upper arm, while he tries to use his handless right arm to guard his belly, to no avail at all.

Morden moves, still holding the sash taut with his other hand, to bring the cane fully sideways into Andry’s stomach, and Andry cannot even curl around the blow, can only gag as all the air whistles out of him, stretched as tall as he can get while still on his knees. He feels his eyes tear up, and cannot even hide his face.

In response, Morden pulls hard on the sash, lifting Andry briefly from his knees, until all his weight is borne by the sash around his neck, and his grasping fingers around the sash are not enough to keep him breathing—

Morden lets go of the sash with no warning, and Andry collapses, gasping gratefully; his vision is white at the center and black at the edges, now, so he does not see that Morden is now holding the cane with two hands.

Andry’s hand is free to guard his face, now, but it is far too late for that to do him any good.

The crack of his ribs is audible. Morden is standing over him, putting every ounce of power he has into each blow, too angry to even think of magic or of anything other than bringing the cane down onto the sprawled body in front of him—slamming it into Andry’s hip, thigh, ribs—already cracked; Andry’s throat is too ruined for a proper scream but he gives it his best try—belly; the cane cracks once against Andry’s temple and his head flops limply onto the floor—

“My lord,” a voice says from the doorway, perhaps not for the first time, raising into an alarmed cry of “Morden!”

Morden stops mid swing, with a bit of effort, and swings to face the doorway, the cane half-raised in a white-knuckle grip.

There is a crack in the center of the polished black wood. Crow, from the doorway, eyes it with mild alarm.

“You’ve got another letter from your one true love,” Crow says, one eyebrow raised ironically. “Your desk may be permanently rose-scented, by now.”

“I—am—busy,” Morden half-snarls, evidently out of breath.

“I can see that,” Crow says. “You may want to read the letter before you—finish with that,” he says, with a significant look over Morden’s shoulder. The bloody heap at the end of the canopied bed does not move.

Morden glares at Crow, rage making his aura simmer purple around his temples. Crow, who has known the Winter King for far too many years, does not move back; and after a moment Morden jerks upright, pulling the collar of his cloak straight with jerky, irritated movements.

“Clean that up,” he snaps at Crow on his way past. Crow rolls his eyes.

Crow watches Morden stomp down the hallway, his heeled boots clicking furiously; when the Winter King is out of sight, he takes a cautious step into the Thorne’s bedroom, peering down at whatever is left of the Summer Prince.

Crow can hear the boy’s breath whistling in past his shattered ribs, so evidently he is alive. His head is limp against the carpet, with his eyes rolled up to show the whites. His temple is bleeding really quite badly.

“Ugh,” Crow says delicately, and leaves to fetch the Healer.

#the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #caning #choking #abuse #royalty whump #defeated and trophified #death mention #loss and grief #(i'm so out of practice aaaa)

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