#[ heaven hath no rage ]

[chappellrroan]

it's almost like if i dont let the whole world know about my new hyperfixtation i will burst into flames

[profound-mystery]

Somewhat Shakespearian version of the Leitner rant

I was bored, I was studying Macbeth, have at it.

Jurgen Leitner? 

Knotty pated fool, hellish dog Jurgen Leitner, Damned fool, foul keeper of pages that dost grow grey and dark with collecting dust, the books though slower than he, aged rodent made of fruit unfathered, vassal wretch. Lascivious slave, twas said before: “the harder knife ill used doth lose his edge.” A motley dost thou makest of thyself, driven with humourless pity, foul thief Jurgen Leitner.

Shame not my flame when I do speak of Jurgen Leitner, to him, I have but disdain. What purpose does he serve to eagerly misuse cursed scrolls, would he have but meddled less in affairs which to him ought to be hidden, yet with his newfound vulgar scandal he but sets them free into the world! Is he standing still past his own death-knell? Hath he been unfathered? The man's bastard shame doth vex me, and shame, to which mine eyes have out of their spheres been fitted to which anger defines him to me. Never have I had the misfortune to upon his face set my eyes, and yet not are mine ears with his tongue’s tune delighted.

Were I to ascend past my knell, and see heaven's eyes in mine own with knowledge of his presence bestowed, I would, while God was smiling in my face, defile him at the door for the sole purpose of removing myself when heaven now ranks of worse essays.

Must I be exposed to the passion of his scanted knowledge, I shall have no choice but to spite the memory of him, and start anew, purely to run past when his name is mentioned to me.

I know not why, by him, my hairs doth unfix themselves, and stand ready at the thought. He merely keeps scrolls, I am raged with the trespass of his presence!

His errors, one on another's neck, must be explained, perhaps by the ghost of the past, for if he is without reason for his sins then I shall be enraged.

His errors must be born of pages, driven to blaspheme for if not his work then I.

paypal.com/JurgenLeitnerIbeshrew

Not even the focus is he, merely alluded to scrolls in his keeping and I was driven with madness.

He escapes me now, and if his corpse is not yet buried, I shall pray for his demise.

Crusty batch of nature…

I should merely blow air in his direction, and his frail body would implode at the very strength, and he would disintegrate before me to ashes until nothing beside remains save for a single scroll he kept on his person for dire emergencies, titled simply “Now, thou hast made a mistake” in ancient yiddish.

How now, I barely breathe through my wrath.

I hope on his deathbed I am privy to the time, so I shall be able to set upon my calendar a reminder.

Through every winter, I shall be granted a day to rejoice and contemplate respect for all but the man who kept such cursed scrolls.

[moonselune]

Aasimar lover of karlach learning what her fate will be and just goes all doom eternal on everything in the hells till they give them s permanent cure for her. If karlach is going down the they're all get to join her unless they fix it

Oof this one hit me in the feels whilst writing it, great request!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach x Aasimar!reader| Hell hath no fury like an Aasimar scorned

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The revelation hit you like a sledgehammer. The infernal engine within Karlach, your fierce and beloved partner, was a ticking time bomb. Its ceaseless, hellish fire threatened to consume her from the inside out - to take her from you. As she lay in your arms, sputtering and burning out right before you, the once small spark of hope that there might be a cure, snuffed out.

This left behind only the cold, harsh truth of her fate. Desperation turned to resolve, as you blessed with celestial power, made a vow: if the Hells wanted to claim Karlach, they would have to go through you first. That or you were going to make sure they went down with her.

You kissed the top of her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she passed in and out of consciousness. You nodded to your companions and told them to stay by her side, you would be back as soon as possible.

Your wings unfurled, glowing with a divine light as you descended into the Hells. The infernal landscape writhed with demonic energy, but you moved with a singular purpose, your heart burning with an unyielding determination. Karlach’s time was running out, and you were ready to bring the fury of Heaven down upon the Hells to save her.

The first wave of demons fell before you like wheat to a scythe. Your sword, imbued with celestial fire, cleaved through their ranks with an unrelenting fury. You fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness, driven by love and the looming threat of losing Karlach forever. The ground beneath you cracked and smoldered as you tore through the infernal hordes, each swing of your blade a promise of wrath and redemption. If it weren't for the circumstances you would realise that you had never felt more alive.

Word of your rampage spread quickly through the Hells. The very air seemed to tremble with the power of your wrath. Lesser demons fled at the mere sight of you, while the more foolish ones who stood their ground were quickly dispatched. Your path led you to the citadel of Zariel, the archdevil who had once been an angel of mercy before her fall from grace. She was the key to Karlach’s salvation, and you would tear her throne apart to save your beloved. Zariel met you at the gates of her fortress, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and amusement.

"Vile Aasimar," she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "You dare bring your righteous fury into my domain?"

"You know why I’m here, Zariel," you replied, your voice steady despite the rage boiling within you. "Karlach deserves a chance to live without the curse of that infernal engine. If you won’t help her, then I’ll tear down your entire realm until you do."

Zariel laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "You think you can threaten me in my own domain? You are nothing but a fool."

"I am the fool? Look at you, cowering in your palace as I butcher your hordes like pigs up for slaughter." You spat, blood dripping from your armor, "You can send more, I dare you to, but when word gets round that you lost your army to me over one of your escaped soldiers, they will see you for what you truly are, for what I see you as. Pathetic."

You dragged your blade against the infernal ground and it sparked up as it scraped, imp wing and cambion blood covering it. "Give me the cure, Zariel. Release Karlach from this torment, or I will return and finish what I started. I will return with Selûne's daughter also and we will purge your land."

With a grudging nod, Zariel relented and she conjured a vial of radiant liquid, the cure for the infernal engine that threatened Karlach’s life. You snatched it from her grasp, your eyes burning with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

With that you unfurled your wings once more and you returned to Karlach's side. She looked at you with a mixture of awe and relief as you approached, the vial clutched tightly in your hand. She was weak, her head resting in Shadowheart's lap as she kept her from the edge of death. You could tell she did not have long left.

"I got it," you said, your voice breaking with emotion. "You’re going to be okay, my love."

As you administered the cure, you watched the torment in her eyes fade, replaced by a warmth that mirrored your own. She pulled you into a fierce embrace, your strong arms holding her close. Karlach cared not for the viscera you were covered in and clung to you.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. You held her tightly, your heart swelling with love and relief and your pressed numerous kisses to her temple.

"I could not bear to live this life without you, my love" you replied, your voice filled with unwavering resolve. "I’ll always fight for you, my love Karlach. Always."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Did unspecified Aasimar so more people could interpret it, hope you liked it ! - Seluney xoxo

[besttropeveershowdown]

The SECOND Best Trope Ever Showdown: Round 1, Side C, Poll 7

Woman Scorned

A character, usually a woman, takes revenge on a significant other who has wronged them.

Propaganda:

what do we love more than feminine rage? to quote the incredible ethel cain "heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned".

My Master, Right Or Wrong

A character who is fiercely loyal to an authority, no matter the authority's flaws.

Propaganda:

Gotta love the devotion whether their in the right or not!

[mentalnote1]

Hell Hath No Fury ~ Poetry

I bite my nails and stretch my neck hoping for a glimpse of compassion

~~~

I've rationed anger my love and affection

I've placed each betrayal filed away neatly in my mental collection

~~~

We came and we went

Trusting an illusion

~~~

Cloaked and masked as a love transfusion

~~~

Still bruised and lost in these contusions

Binge eating rage and misunderstood confusion

~~~

As he looked past me with shame

Danglin love like a carrot

Lost playing this dangerous game

~~~

I ask God for forgiveness for the Unforgivable

The unthinkable

~~~

I stare at our blood-stained sheets

His eyes blank with fear

And I know

~~~

Heaven is not my final destination

And I pray

For repentance 

~~~

PSA: I do not condone violence/domestic violence of any sort this is only poetry ❤️‍🩹

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

But see the angry Victor hath recalled His ministers of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of Heaven: The sulfurous hail Shot after us in storm, overblown hath laid The fiery Surge, that from the precipice Of Heaven received us falling, and the thunder, Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn, Or satiate fury yield it from our foe. Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend From off the tossing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbor there, And reassembling our afflicted powers, Consult how we may henceforth most offend Our enemy, our own loss how repair, How overcome this dire calamity, What reinforcement we may gain from hope, If not what resolution from despair.

~John MILTON, Paradise Lost I, 163-191 

[Thanks Ori Hanan Weisberg]

[melit0n]

In no particular order, (or in order, if you can rank them) what are your top 5 Ethel Cain songs? 🎤

Oh Tonee, this is like opening up one of five music based Pandora boxes for me 😭 please forgive the rambling.

Family Tree from Preacher's Daughter

This song drives me MAD. I could talk about her vocals in every song, but her voice in this makes me buzz. The bass throughout is ominous and incredible: same can be said for the SFX. I'm a sucker for when artists add in extra things like that. The flies put me on edge (which links it to Ptolemaea and eventually Sun Bleached Flies) and the bell ringing out during the first chorus makes me feel like I'm attending a funeral. Literally 'for whom the bell tolls', which kind of foreshadows her death later on in the album.

I genuinely think the lyrics are the closets I've come to a religious experience. "They say 'Heaven hath no fury like a woman's scorn', and baby Hell don't scare me, I've been times before." Insane. Ate and left not a single crumb. Her dead tone on "I've killed before and I'll kill again", being a callback to Two-Headed Mother's "I've loved before, I'll kill again" is just. Ugh. I can't even describe it.

+ Special mention to Family Tree (intro). I haven't, and will probably never, get over "Jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother's blood."

Televangelism from Preacher's Daughter

There's very few songs, to me, that encapsulate a painful yet quiet death well, and this is certainly one of them. It's a solemnly comforting tune. Considering lore wise, it's meant to represent Ethel's soul coming out of the basement after she's been killed, it makes sense.

The first half genuinely sounds like something the pianist in my Catholic School used to play before prayer started. The fact that it was entirely improvised is absolutely insane, too.

Plus, the incredibly smooth switch from August Underground to this is brilliant.

Ptolemaea from Preacher's Daughter

Literally every part of this song is amazing (pretty much all of Preacher's Daughter is a work of art to be honest). It's definitely one of the few songs that genuinely unnerves me; still has the same creeping, fearful effect after the hundreds of time that I've listened to it.

First, off: The title is a reference to the ninth and final layer of Dante's Inferno: betrayal. Ptolemy commits treachery (a betrayal of trust), which lands him in the ninth circle, hence its name. This is what Isaiah does to Ethel. It's a somewhat niche reference that I love.

Secondly, Death's monologue (some people also interpret this voice as Isaiah, the man who kills and cannablises Ethel by the end of PD, but I'm just generalising it as The Grim Reaper) is so, so eerie. The repetition switching between "Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you" to "Need you, love you, love you, love you" with Ethel screaming and asking for him to stop in the background always gives me chills.

Thirdly, all the lyrics go hard in this one. "Calling me the one, I'm the white light: beautiful, finite", "Even the iron still fears the rot" and "I am the face of love's rage" are some of my favourites.

Honestly? The entire song puts me on edge. Listening to it, I feel like I'm millimetres away from the sharp point of a knife. The build up to her screaming "stop" is full of panic, but cathartic.

Two-Headed Mother from Inbred

The distorted guitar at the start mixed with her vocals itches my brain so well. Her tone and dictation in this is really 'soft' too, and more spoken than sang, which I adore. It sounds less like a song and more like being hummed an eerie tune as you drift in and out of sleep.

Overall, despite the topic (of both the song and album in general: it's called Inbred for a reason) the beat is an absolute groove. Never in my life would I have expected a song about trauma passed on from a mother so a daughter to have such a blend to it.

On the note of the topic, just, hello?? It mixes a mother's hatred and love and passes it down to a child who sees it in every man she sees. Let alone paints her lover in a horrible image in order to remove guilt from how badly she's treating him. Just how her dead mother still has dictation over her, she exerts the same amount of control on her lover. She knows very well that her two headed mother brought her here and can send her right back.

Head in the Wall from Golden Age

This one just encapsulates so, so much religious based anger and debilitating depression. Every single lyric oozes with pain and I always have to like, sit down when this comes on.

Growing up a Catholic kid, in a not so nice religious environment, yeah. Just yeah. Misogyny was rife and "It's always my fault: girls will be bitches, and boys will be boys" resonates with me a lot. I could say a prayer wrong and be told to sit outside in Winter to do my work for the rest of the day, and a boy could chase me around the playground, pull my hair and try to punch me and it's still be my fault because boys will be boys.

The whole song just illustrates a very depressive mindset, being more angry towards yourself, and then moving on to environmental factors to try and shift blame in an attempt to stop feeling shitty. For those reasons, I don't listen to Golden Age or Carpet Bed all too much because they sucker punch me right in the chest a little bit too painfully, but HITW is still a favourite.

[change-the-rules]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Cressida Cowper, Eloise Bridgerton & Cressida Cowper Characters: Eloise Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper Additional Tags: s2 interlude, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Friendship, enemies to temporary reprieve from the storm to enemies to friends to lovers, we don't get to the friends part here tho, you can't tell me it's Not canon compliant, One-Shot Summary:

At the hearts and flowers ball in season 2 Cressida Cowper loses the promise of a husband, while at the same time Eloise Bridgerton just loses her shit. Understanding can sometimes be found in the oddest places

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Why do the Heathen Rage?

1 Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? 2 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying, 3 Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us. 4 He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision. 5 Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure. 6 Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion.

7 I will declare the decree: the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. 8 Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. 9 Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. 10 Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth. 11 Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. 12 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him. — Psalm 2 | Authorized King James Version (AKJV) The Holy Bible: Authorized King James Version; Cambridge University Press, the Crown’s patentee in the UK. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 49:10; Deuteronomy 14:23; 1 Samuel 10:1; Psalm 5:7; Psalm 21:8-9; Psalm 37:13; Psalm 59:8; Psalm 76:7; Proverbs 8:15; Proverbs 27:11; Isaiah 45:9; Jeremiah 5:5; Matthew 3:17; Mark 1:11; Luke 3:22; John 1:41; Acts 4:25-26; Hebrews 1:2; Revelation 6:16-17; Revelation 2:26-27; Revelation 11:15; Revelation 11:18; Revelation 12:5; Revelation 14:1

Psalm 2 and World Evangelization

[lineffability]

Aziraphale turned towards Muriel, who had been here, he realized, all this time. 

Muriel was shaking, still sobbing, standing to the side, where they had stood all this time, not knowing at all what to do. Aziraphale, for once, was too furious to extend any grace, to offer any kind of understanding.

Muriel had been here the entire time. Had they watched? All of it? The demons, Crowley, the– the– Why were they just standing there?! Why had they not–

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” It came out loud and confused and angry, and Aziraphale sucked in a shaking breath. It was an accusation, a judgment delivered with the severity of roaring thunder. Heaven hath no fury than an angel on the verge of despair. 

“I- I don’t know,” Muriel wept, holding their hands out in front of them and grabbing at thin air, looking for absolution. “They- they had a permit, and–”

A permit. 

All the rage drained out of Aziraphale, who was looking, wide-eyed, at the angel Muriel. Aziraphale, who was looking at himself. 

Aziraphale, who had let children drown, once, because of a permit, while a demon tried to act as his conscience. Aziraphale, who had refused to let children die again, but who would have stepped aside to watch the slaughter, had not the demon risked his heart and bared it. May you be forgiven. (How lucky, that it had been Crowley, that day in Job’s house, and not someone less worthy of forgiveness.) Yes, these are Job’s new children. He had lied, at the very end of it, yet hadn’t it taken him centuries to muster up the courage to follow his own conscience? Would he ever have, without a little help? 

Would he have let Crowley die, once, if someone had carried a permit? The terror of it shook him, because he did not know. It could have been him: this sobbing mess standing in front of him, wretched, willing to be judged, putting their head on the chopping block and looking up at their judge, ready for execution. 

“Did I-” Muriel gasped, and their eyes spilled over with a painfully genuine question: “Did I do anything wrong?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, but it was gentle, and sad, and he stepped forward and took Muriel into his arms. 

Muriel stiffened, for an instant, before grabbing him fiercely and crying into his shoulder. It felt as humanly natural as their guilt, and they let themselves feel the emotions, shaking with them, crying it all out. 

So this was what it meant to be alive?

[continue reading chapter 18]

[read Meanwhile the World Goes On from the beginning]

[chasingrainbcws]

a masked stranger said: When are you finally going to quit lying to yourself and admit that you hate Adam and want his soul torn to pieces?

❝ Never ! Because I DON'T !! ❞ Hell hath no fury like a woman's rage... and even Heaven cannot help you when said woman is born of damnation's fire. ❝ Just because he's an obnoxious asshole doesn't mean he deserves to be tortured like that ! Do you even have any idea how painful it is to have your soul torn apart !? You'd beg for it to be done to your body a thousand times before it was over ! He's still a person ! I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, no matter what they've done ! Even those who don't deserve forgiveness, even those who do deserve punishment --- there are less cruel ways ! If I wanted to watch someone suffer, I'd be no better than them ! An eye for an eye just leaves us blind ! ❞ Fangs bare; crimson horns arch up to frame a halo of wind-tossed hair fanned by the flames of her unholy nature. ❝ No, I don't like him. He's an egotistical jerk, but I don't hate him. I don't hate anyone ! The moment you let a feeling like that into your heart, it means that you've given up hope that they can be better ! Even if he doesn't want to be a better person, that doesn't mean that I can't believe that he could be if he wanted to ! Did you ever stop to think that people aren't born that way !? Things like hurt and fear and grief and lies make people cruel... ! How would you feel if you were brought into the world and given everything on a silver platter, spoiled rotten, told that you were the most wonderful creation that had ever existed, never taught right from wrong, and then blamed, punished, exiled and abandoned by the person who was supposed to love you ? Who told you that you were their most beloved child ?! I'd probably be a selfish, bitter, angry person, too ! ❞

...Wait --- holy shit. Is she really... sticking up for Adam, of all people ? ❝ ...Don't you dare put words in my mouth. You don't know anything about what I want. ❞

[sublieu]

tw. - character death, fighting, cuts and bruises, angst

wc. - 700 - 850 words

an. - I actually started crying when I read this and it doesn't happen to me like ever

ref. - ???

ment. - @zmzsnakes @mortal-mayhem @yellowaxol

music. - romantic homicide by d4vd

theme. - angst to fluff then to angst

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞┆"All creations/edits belong to ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝"┆

"Azure."

He stops in his tracks, letting the scared warrior run into the castle. Looking up at your new form.

Plump, plush lips, decorated in the finest and silkiest clothing, and your hair adorned with jewels. Looking like a true princess.

His heart skips a beat the longer he looks at you, how long has it been since he's heard your gentle voice call his name? Decades, centuries even, as if to greet your once first love.

But now, your voice feels cold, wavering even as your [weapon] glimmers in the sunlight before being rudely interrupted by Dapeng.

"Get out of our way if you don't want to end up like the lowly warriors." He steps up but Huang stops him, rumoring to the eagle that this was personal for Azure and stepping down.

The lion quivers with every step he takes, walking on eggshells before being stopped by a barrier set by you yourself.

"How dare you come back here after abandoning us? Abandoning me?!"

You yell at the demon before falling and hitting him in the stomach with your [weapon]. He dared not to utter a word as you vented your rage and hurt at him.

His brothers turned their heads after hearing the first blow, As much as his brothers wanted to attack, they knew their leader would never allow them to. Dapeng quivering as a child would who was being scolded, for hell hath no fury as a woman scorned. And after spending millenniums waiting for your husband patiently, it wore you out; Even more, once finding out about what he's been doing outside of heaven.

"How long before you answer me, Azure?! How many years will it take before you even have an excuse for the things you've done?! How long before you give me an answer?!"

You cursed as you hit him in the jaw, his bloodied face, the cuts and marks you've inflicted on the already battered man the longer he remains quiet before finally speaking up.

"I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?! Cause the family you have says otherwise!"

You respond to him, ready to hit him again before he holds your [weapon] and jerks it away from you, the clang of the gold metal ringing in your ears before pulling out another [weapon] to attack him again

"I can tell my actions left an effect on you dear. But I was forced to leave you alone, and I'm sorry." He responds again and holds you by your arms, trapping you into a hug and gently taking the small [weapon] away from your hands.

You went limp before hugging your ex-husband, your once beautifully coated mascara running on your face and in the warrior's clothes the tighter you held him; Uncontrollable tears and hiccups leaving your lips and your legs wrapped around the man as he sits down with you on his lap, holding you tightly out fear of letting go and you fading away.

"W-why did you leave me? I did everything right and yet you run off and have a family... Was I not good enough for you?" You sob as he held your face with his large hands, wiping away your mascara-stained tears and rocking you in his lap gently to calm you down.

"I tried to get in contact with you, I really did. But I had to wait, I'm so sorry I left you alone and with no explanation, I'm the one at fault here." He sympathizes with you, resting his head on your collarbone, gently humming a lullaby you once sang to him.

"Do you remember when we first met?, how I said one day when we were ready we'd leave heaven behind to live a life of our own? You sang this same song to help me sleep that night."

And that's when it hits you, like a stack of bricks to the face. Feeling him slowly start to squeeze you tightly, hearing your bones squish as you wailed in pain, trying to get him to stop

He remembered the promise... He wasn't lying to you at all... He still felt love for you, more love than you could ever imagine.

"I can't stay here any longer, please do wait for me some more and I promise to never leave you again"

He whispers one last time before sharing a kiss with you, your soul cracking completely and dying slowly in his arms, the arms that once made you feel safe at night, the ones that are now squeezing you to your death. Your vision fades to black as you are sucked inside the scroll before he gently keeps it on his holder.

"Are you done with your reunion?" "...Let's just continue with the task at hand..."

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[sainttypevibe]

Heaven Hath No Rage, Like Love To Hatred Turned

Nor Hell A Fury, Like A women Scorned

[jesusislord3333]

“Why do the heathen rage, And the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, Against the LORD, and against his anointed, saying, Let us break their bands asunder, And cast away their cords from us. He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: The Lord shall have them in derision. Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, And vex them in his sore displeasure. Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion. I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, And the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; Thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel. Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: Be instructed, ye judges of the earth. Serve the LORD with fear, And rejoice with trembling. Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, When his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭2‬:‭1‬-‭12‬ ‭

[scotianostra]

On June 2nd 1581 James Douglas, the Earl of Morton was exucuted in Edinburgh.

The fourth and last of little James VI regents, Morton was arguably the most able of the bunch and distinguished his span of authority by winning the raging civil war against James’s mother Mary. Regent Morton had a reputation for avarice during his run in the 1570s. However, deriving as it does from his executive impingement on the treasures of courtiers and clans no less grasping than himself, that reputation probably ought to be taken with a pinch of salt.

If nothing else, Regent Morton had the excuse of king and country. Sir Walter Scott, for one, favored this Red Douglas with a much more charitably statesmanlike gloss in his books The Monastery and The Abbott, part of his Waverley collection.

As one example, Morton irked divines by enforcing with a minimum of pious exceptions a pre-existing statute requiring a one-third cut of ecclesiastical revenues.

Likewise, he made an enemy of Lady Agnes Keith — the widow of the assassinated first regent — and her (subsequent) husband, the Earl of Argyll by forcing them to turn over crown jewels that were being held in their quote-unquote safekeeping.

In 1578, this Argyll kidnapped King James VI and induced the 12-year-old to declare his majority and dismiss the Earl of Morton. Argyll landed a Chancellorship out of the deal: Morton — well, you know. He would eventually be accused, 14 years’ belatedly but not inaccurately, of complicity in the 1567 murder of the Kings’ father Lord Darnley.

Argyll in the end lost his head to that distinctive Scottish proto-guillotine known as the Maiden. Though the apparatus actually dates back to 1564,* a legend as moralistic as it is specious holds that the Regent Morton was himself the man who ordered construction of the device that would eventually end his own life. Sir Walter could hardly be asked to resist that kind of material:

“Look you, Adam, I were loth to terrify you, and you just come from a journey; but I promise you, Earl Morton hath brought you down a Maiden from Halifax, you never saw the like of her — and she’ll clasp you round the neck, and your head will remain in her arms.”

“Pshaw!” answered Adam, “I am too old to have my head turned by any maiden of them all. I know my Lord of Morton will go as far for a buxom lass as anyone; but what the devil took him to Halifax all the way? and if he has got a gamester there, what hath she to do with my head?”

“Much, much!” answered Michael. "Herod's daughter who did such execution with her foot and ankle, danced not men’s heads off more cleanly than this maiden of Morton. ‘Tis an axe, man, — an axe which falls of itself like a sash window, and never gives the headsmen the trouble to wield it.”

“By my faith, a shrewd device,” said Woodcock; “heaven keep us free on’t!”

-Sir Walter Scott, The Angie Abbott

Any young travellers out there, when next in Edinburgh, quaff Scots engineering acumen with the friendly backpackers crashing at the High Street Hostel — the glorious stone town house that was once Regent Morton’s very own crib, so you can soak up the history, and watch out for his ghost, that is said to haunt the lodgings, their Night Porter swears he's seen some weird stuff at the wee sma’ hours of the night.

After he got the chop his corpse remained on the scaffold for the following day, until it was taken for burial in an unmarked grave at Greyfriars Kirkyard. His head, however, remained on "the prick on the highest stone" as was tradition with traitors, where it remained for eighteen months until it was ordered to be reunited with his body in December 1582. Morton's final resting place is reputedly marked by a small sandstone post incised with the initials "J.E.M." for James Earl of Morton. The post is more probably a Victorian marker for a lairage. In the very unlikely event that a marker were permitted for an executed criminal, the inscribed initials would have been "J.D." and, secondly, it would have been cleared away in 1595 when all stones were removed from Greyfriars

[rosalinesurvived]

May I present:

The Nest is a freaky gothic shitstorm of a place and there is nothing freakier than the thought of Kevin and Riko being in a sexual relationship (as it was in Nora's OG drafts) as the two say that they grew up as brothers and that on Kevin's (And Jean definitely) sides it most likely translated into r*pe. I bring this up because when Kevin crowned himself Queen Andrew says: "Hell hath no fury". The full quote of that is: "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned". The meaning of that quote is that "there is no greater anger than that of a woman who has been rejected in love." Kevin and Riko. Except Riko's "love" was uncondition, abuse, unfair and he ended up breaking Kevin's pride and his hand and damaging Kevin's true beloved ones. Kevin crowning himself Queen was him entering the gates of

"LET ME SHOW THIS BITCH WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A WOMAN IS SCORNED"