#magician's bait

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: Find the Word (Round 4!)

Thanks to @diabolical-blue for the tag!

My words: silver, broken, relate, tender

These all somehow managed to be in Tales from Valaria. Props for consistency, I guess. Couldn't find tender, but gentle seems to be close enough.

Silver

(The Watcher and the Thief, Chapter 1 Scene 2)

Octavian rose to his feet, the ghost of a smile on his face. “My presence is requested. I wish your apprentice a swift recovery.” The elf bowed his head to Hector and departed. Ah. Ag was the alchemical abbreviation for silver. De Silv. It was a clever, if strange, bit of code. Why did de Silv have a signal to himself?

Broken

(The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure)

Octavian glanced down at his hand. The skin on his knuckles had broken, and the cloth wadded tightly around his palm was soaked in the pale red liquid. A nasty gash above his right eye dripped blood down his face like tears. “...yes.”

Relate

(The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure)

Upon first inspection, she only looked to have a partially scabbed-over cut on her left cheek. But the deep red stains on the sleeves of her jacket, too big for her, told a different story. She also didn’t look like she’d had a proper night’s sleep in some time. Draven could relate.

Tender Gentle

(Magician's Bait)

“Oh, princeling…” She murmured in an almost gentle tone. Her grip on his hair loosened slightly, and the chair tilted back another inch. Damian’s heart jumped into his throat. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Gently tagging @annakayy @gummybugg @catwings-writes-things @thethistlegirlwrites @aalinaaaaaa

@stargazer-luna @theeccentricraven @phoenixradiant @late-to-the-fandom and open tag! :D

Your words: fold, fine, free, few

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Some memes from Tales from Valaria

(The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure):

(The Watcher and the Thief):

(Magician's Bait):

April Fool's! Instead of sharing an excerpt, share a meme or incorrect quote related to your WIP, OCs, or published work 😘

[thepoisonroom]

what other ship went canon in a bisexual threesome then went canon again in an alternate timeline bottle episode and then went canon a third time in an episode that merged that alternate timeline with the main timeline and explicitly posited gay love as a motivating force in conquering your own demons and gaining the courage to overcome self-loathing and shame

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Octavian: the emotional damage of discovering that your entire species has vanished while you were imprisoned

Draven: shot in the shoulder

Reese: got cut up by broken glass, PTSD of getting kidnapped 3 times

Luc: cursed wound that wouldn't heal by conventional means

Damian: any and all injuries received while held prisoner

What's the worst your character has ever been hurt? 

[partyinthecloudkingdom]

yet again we are hit with a category 5 "hlvrai fans react to a hl2vrai bait and switch with the same emotions as a kid being told santa isnt real" event

[brinnanza]

god I love the magic system in the magicians SO much magic isn't the solution it's usually the problem it comes from misery and it burns you up to cast it delicious perfect the good angst

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Soft and domestic DCA x Reader ideas

The scent of baked goods in the early morning, Sun humming to the song on the radio as he brews fresh coffee and pours tea. He knows these treats will lure you out from your comfortable bed, they had become an effective weapon against your "5 more minutes" tricks.

Moon lovingly brushing your hair before sleep, as he tells you a silly story about a beautiful royal that had fallen into the trap of wicked jester magicians that had used sweets as bait to capture them. You simply smile and playfully steal his nightcap, giggling as you run away and he chases after you.

Evening theatre shows organized by Sun, each one more majestic than the one before. The Glamrocks are more than happy to participate in various roles, and Sun would often wear elaborate regal costumes he himself had made. By the end of each play, he is the one who comes off stage to give you roses, thanking you for being the best audience he could ask for.

Nocturnal sonatas, composed and played by Moon on the piano. His crimson gaze falls upon you as he playes, pure adoration in his eyes as he observes his sweet Muse, his treasure. You dare not look away, enthralled by both his love and his melodies.

[mollysunder]

Viktor's Sources of "Inspiration"

The hexcore is incomplete. Currently Viktor only has the runes of Precision, Domination, Sorcery, and Resolve. To complete the hexcore and unlock it's true potential he'll need Inspiration, but where will he find it?

Viktor could find Inspiration through Sky. The most noteworthy possible hint was in Sky's last scene. Sky's last words to herself were how Viktor inspired her, and in that moment we get a glimpse of her notebook. Some have speculated that the emblem on the cover of her notebook resembles the Inspiration rune itself.

Sky also left a series of notes from her undisclosed research project. From the quick shots we get of her notes we can assume Sky was researching methods to stimulate plant growth. Her research may be in a similar vein to Viktor's research where he experimented with how the hexcore reacted to organic plant matter and stimulated its growth in turn. Could Sky's research be the key that will help Viktor stabilize the effects of the hexcore on organic matter like plants (and people)?

Even in death Sky's character could serve to reflect the theme of inspiration that Viktor desperately needs...

Except the Inspiration rune does represent the literal definition of the word "inspiration". In Runeterra, the Inspiration rune is meant to symbolize the ability to "Outwit mere mortals". In-game the Inspiration path gives players a set of tools they can use to apply unconventional strategies to outwit their enemies. And the one character that demonstrates those traits the best in Arcane is Jinx.

The first time the Inspiration rune's meaning was applied correctly in a sentence was when Viktor was describing the design of Jinx's chomper grenade. And it's true, thematically Jinx's chomper grenades and they way she uses them align with how "inspired" tools work.

Jinx was able to pull off a 3-in-1 trick with her chomper. The grenade was the bait and the snare against the enforcers, the distraction Jinx used to steal classified technology and info from Piltover, and the means that Jinx would use to frame the Firelights in her crimes. Technically she's gotten away with it all so far. What Jinx with her tools does isn't just outwitting her enemies, she's running laps around them.

Another possible clue that could mean Jinx will help Viktor discover the Inspiration rune is that her champion tag was disguised as a rune within the hexcore in Viktor's Magician tarot card. The same tarot card that gives us a brief shot of the Machine Herald's silhouette.

Maybe this all leads to Viktor working with Jinx next season, even learning from her to the point where he'll even end up taking a page out of Jinx's playbook. Viktor's set to be banished from his research bubble in Zaun, in a time where allies will be hard to come by and enemies will be easy to make.

Sky and Jinx are two very different characters that manage to apply the term inspiration in two very different ways. I want to think that was on purpose by the writers. But who knows for sure though, we can only see how things turn out next season.

tldr: Sky represents the traditional definition of inspiration, while Jinx better embodies the Runeterra's definition of the actual Inspiration rune. Sky's death may also be a weird rune pun.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Confrontation (Magician's Bait, Part 4)

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 11: Used as bait / Held for ransom / "It's a trap!"

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

Happy birthday to @writer-of-worlds! 🎉🎉🎉

TW: kidnapping, magic whump, referenced past whump, blindness, deception, trouble breathing

first part | <- previous part | next part ->

Context: Damian's rescuer approaches, and his captor brings him out of his cell to witness her defeat of Caiya Ebony. But something's... off about the whole thing.

-----

The whispering was beginning to grow unbearable.

Damian didn’t know what the Stalker had in mind with this particular spell. It didn’t seem to do anything useful besides incessant noise. Perhaps that was the point.

The words were familiar yet strange, like someone mumbling in his secondary language, using unknown rhetoric. No matter how hard he tried, Damian could not recognize any words. They were not human, not elvish. Draigo, perhaps?

He knew that he did not know the exact dialect of the whispering, but that did not stop his mind from grasping at vowels and grammar for a translation.

This was possibly worse than when she’d starved him.

After the day Damian had pleaded with her for water, the Stalker had come in daily as always. But along with temporarily freeing him from his bonds, she also muttered two runes in quick succession. And his hunger and thirst would evaporate like mist in the sunlight.

At least the dehydration had been natural, a normal process of his bodily functions from lack of water. This was not.

Damian wished, not for the first time, that his hands were free so he could cover his ears and block out the unbearable noise. The hissed “s” sounds, the sharp “t” and “p” and “c”, it all drilled into his skull like a sharp, thick needle. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, ignoring the pain as his skin, bruised from many performances of the same exercise, protested yet another assault.

But it was the only thing he could do to distract himself.

The door abruptly opened, slamming into the wall. Damian flinched, his body straining against the ropes binding him to the chair. He’d been so focused on tuning out the whispering that he hadn’t noticed the approaching footsteps of his captor.

The Stalker’s first words were a rune, spoken with the same harsh tone as everything else. Damian exhaled in relief when the voices were immediately silenced.

His relief was short-lived.

“My outer wards have finally been disabled,” the Stalker said, not bothering to disguise her glee. “Your rescuer approaches, princeling.”

Damian closed his eyes, trying to hide the despair washing over him, threatening to drown him.

She cackled at his resignation. “Oh, princeling,” the Stalker teased, “did you really think a savior would never arrive? Do you really place so little value upon yourself?”

“I suppose… it was too much to hope they’d never find me.”

His captor’s laughter was strangely beautiful for someone with such ill intentions. “I can’t believe,” she said, gasping for air, “you are still so naive! So naive! This is the heir to the throne of Caenum!”

She spoke a rune, and the ropes binding Damian to the chair vanished, leaving only the ones tying his wrists together. The Stalker yanked him to his feet by the shoulder and dragged him out of the cell. He stumbled over the uneven ground, trying to keep his footing despite her cruel pace.

They walked along a corridor, he guessed, judging by the straightness of the path and the way their footsteps echoed off the nearby walls. The air was colder here than in the cell, and Damian thought he detected the faintest scent of rain. Long ago, he had assumed they were underground, but they mustn't be too far from the surface.

His first indication that they had entered a large room was how the sound of their footsteps changed. The second was the abrupt right turn the Stalker made. The sudden change in movement caught him off-guard, and he stumbled.

Hands bound behind his back, Damian couldn’t catch himself, and the Stalker didn’t bother to keep her grip on him as he fell past her. His knees stung from the impact, and shockwaves of pain traveled up and down his body when his shoulder hit the ground.

The Stalker didn’t help him back to his feet. Instead, another spoken rune reached his ears, and a rope wound itself around the bonds on his wrists, tethering him to what he assumed was the wall.

Air displaced around him as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. He ignored it. When he finally maneuvered his body the right way, the touch of the Stalker’s hand on his face startled him.

She placed both her hands over his unseeing eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said softly in his ear, “about how you won’t be able to properly witness the defeat of the magician who’s come to save you.” He didn’t need to see her face to know she was grinning maniacally. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Damian had gotten used to the runes having very mild effects. Ropes appeared, hunger and thirst banished, incessant whispering voices, all of them were simple and had one purpose.

So he had thought, anyway.

For one thing, the Stalker spoke multiple runes in quick succession. Three or four, perhaps? Damian lost track as a headache appeared in the form of pressure behind his eyes. Her hands on his face became cold, as if they had changed into ice. He gasped as the pressure intensified, almost like his eyes were about to burst from their sockets.

Just when he feared it would never end, the Stalker pulled away, and the pressure abruptly vanished. His sight returned slowly, similar to how his eyes would adjust from light to darkness or darkness to light. The Stalker retreated, leaving him to his own devices as he examined his surroundings.

He was attached to the wall of a large circular room, almost like an arena. The ceiling was higher than he expected for an underground room, tall enough that Damian doubted he could touch it even if he jumped. The floor was broken stone, and an entire portion had collapsed completely, leaving a pit halfway across the room. 

The room was well-lit despite the absence of a light source. Runes again, no doubt. Several openings in the walls lead into corridors, all identical. Damian considered the state of the room, the corridors, and what he recalled of his cell. “We’re in the catacombs, aren’t we?”

The Stalker smirked. “Well done, princeling.” She couldn’t have been much older than Damian, with long black hair tied back into an elegant braid so complex it had to have been done with magic. She wore practical but expensive clothing: black trousers and a deep blue blouse, with a dark brown duster overtop. All had numerous pockets, and she had a pair of knives strapped at her sides.

Those knives probably had dozens of runes inscribed upon the blades. Damian vaguely recalled Caiya mentioning that designing the runes for her knife was considered a ‘final exam’ for a magician. And that it was to be used as a tool for carving runes or preparing food, not as a weapon.

Damian suspected the Stalker didn’t ascribe to such moral teachings.

As if in response to his thoughts, the Stalker casually drew one of the knives, flipping it between her fingers with the sort of ease that comes from experience. She noticed him staring, her smirk widening into a maniacal grin. “Soon enough, princeling, you’ll be begging for me to drive this into your throat.”

Damian swallowed uneasily at the thought. “You…” he stammered, “you’ll be waiting a long time for that.”

She barked a harsh laugh. “We’ll see about—” she cut herself off and sheathed the knife. “My last ward’s been tripped. Your savior has arrived.”

Damian stiffened, glancing around hurriedly, searching each tunnel and corridor. Perhaps if he could warn Caiya before she got there—

Movement in the corridor directly across from where he was seated caught his eye. It couldn’t be the Stalker, for she was beside him, enjoying his fear.

“Stop!” Damian shouted. His words bounced off the stone walls. “It’s a trap! She won’t—!”

The Stalker spoke a sharp rune. The air abruptly left his lungs, halting his pleas. Damian gasped for breath, panicking as his lungs refused to expand. She tsked softly. “None of that, princeling.”

He finally managed to inhale, but the air escaped as quickly as he drew it in, bringing barely enough oxygen to stay conscious. The Stalker shook her head at his predicament, her smile vanishing as she turned away.

Damian watched as Caiya stepped out of the corridor. Her head was covered by a gray cowl, hiding her face. From this distance, he couldn’t make out much detail, but he thought the markings on the cowl were runes painted onto the cloth in red ink. Or blood. Her knife was strapped to her right thigh, and she wore brown trousers and a green, mottled jacket beneath the cowl.

A spoken rune broke the tense silence. Immediately, the entrance to every corridor shimmered, a magical barrier blocking all paths in and out. No escape. They were trapped.

“Took you long enough!” The Stalker called, her hands on her hips. “Are you really so incompetent that you do not know a simple tracking spell?”

Caiya cocked her head but said nothing in reply. Something’s off, Damian realized as he struggled for air. She never resists a chance to have the last word.

The Stalker stepped forward, waving her hand at Damian behind her. “Well, Miss Ebony, no matter what means you used to get here, the ends still remain the same. I challenge you to a duel. To the death. Winner gets to keep the princeling and her life.” She stuck out her hand mockingly despite the magician being several meters away.

The magician regarded her in silence. Slowly, she raised her hand and removed the cowl, casting it to the side. The rune-marked cloth slid across the floor and fell into the pit. “I accept your terms,” the girl—who was very much not Caiya Ebony—said in a soft voice that carried across the room.

“Swear on it,” the Stalker insisted. She must not have known what Caiya looked like. Or she didn’t care.

“You challenged me. Swear it first.”

“I, Natali Tallis—” Damian flinched at the name, that of a famous long-deceased magician— “swear on my life that the victor of this duel will walk away with her life and the life of the prince.”

The ghost of a smile touched the edges of the girl’s lips. “I, Reese Takari, accept these terms.” With those words, she drew the knife at her side. “Allez!”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[harumwahsa]

── .✦ You reveal your talent to the twins and Freminet during your sleepover.

NOTE: This is one of my old (kinda) writings that I'm satisfied and happy with, so I'm going to leave it here. Let's hope I don't make a whole new blog out of dissatisfaction with unneccessary things again.

"I can do magic, too."

Lyney crosses his arms over his chest, an amused smile on his face upon your little announcement. "Is that so?" He chuckles. You need no stage nor spotlight to have his eyes on you－just that playful twinkle in your eyes along with your smile is enough to steal the attention of the magician.

"Enlighten us, my dear."

"With pleasure." You bow in an elegant manner, as if you truly were putting up a grand magic show. "Freminet." You gesture him to come to you just when he was about to wrap himself under the covers. Oops. You were about to tell him that there is no need to fulfill your request, but Freminet has always been quite a sweetheart.

He is already standing next to you as per requested, awaiting for your next order as he plays the role of your 'lucky audience'. He looks a little lost, but just like Lyney, he is curious of what you are up to. Even Lynette's gaze is on you as she hugs her knees to her chest, her tail high and curled at the tip.

You clear your throat, and fix the non-existent tie at the collar of your pyjamas. The sound of Lyney's snickering make your lips tug upwards. "So,"－you look at Freminet, and swipe your index finger up－"raise your hand."

Freminet raises his hand up high, Pers still held to his chest with his free arm.

The twins lean forward slightly, focused. You feel pride blooming in your chest to have their attention on silly ol' you. You swipe your other index finger up. "Now hold Pers up!" You conduct.

"Oh, uhm..." A blush adorns Freminet's freckled cheeks. Regardless, he does as you said; holding his dear Pers in both hands and raising it timidly.

The siblings wait for your next move. The smile on Lyney's face never falters. Lynette's tail is swaying lightly from side to side. Freminet is still holding Pers up, his face warm. There is a beat of silence in the room. What could possibly be your next move?

"Voilà!"

... alas, there is none. You bow once more. "I controlled his mind." You say, as simple as that.

The silence that fills the room is loud. Lynette's ears twitch, her eyes blinking twice in a split second, and Freminet is holding Pers over his face. He seems to bear the second-hand embarrassment, but you just stand there, grinning, proudly so. It was no magic trick, but hey, at least you stole their attention! Lyney did say that being a performer requires the capability to have the audience's eyes on you... so you did just that.

Lyney's soft laughter of disbelief breaks the silence. Of course you would pull this. Just what was he expecting? But you really cannot blame him for taking your bait, not when you have him wrapped around your finger. He shakes his head, sighing at your antics. You truly are a bundle of surprises.

"Oh, (Y/N)..."

Credit(s): Inspiration || Divider

[peacheesex]

Lyney with a reader who owns a hoard of cats😔 They claim the cats are arse holes and so mean but later Lyney sees the reader cuddled up with 3 of them, asleep. Lyney thinks your cat hoard is adorable and that you are a splendid cat parent. That cats have all collectively decided that Lyney is their father and they crowd him when he arrives at home. The moment he sits down he is swamped in a sea of meows and chirps, cat fur everywhere, he is drowning in toe beans and oop!! You lost your husband to the hoard of furry four legged egotistical bastards again. Seems you'll have to fish him out with the magician bait again....

[nekropsii]

Hiiiiiiii! Insane your iceberg post and was wondering if possibly i could have the sources for: the one about horrus being a system, the cronus abelism one as Well as the one about kurloz talks cronus out of being the hero if its not too much of a bother! Have a lovely day and Take care!

Oh, sure! I absolutely can do that! Easy-peasy!

------

On Horuss Being a System...

Horuss's Plurality is quite an easy one. He references it multiple times! It verges on interesting, but every time the bait is taken, we get hit with the switch of it being a really cruel punchline against an extremely vulnerable group of people.

Yikes!

------

On Cronus's Disillusionment...

We mostly get this one from Aranea's infodump on Cronus. Here it is, verbatim, with the relevant portion in bold:

The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut once he had a deeply abiding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. Though when pressed for the name of the man, he would not say it, claiming it was too dangerous to even enunciate. Part of his self-aggrandizing mythos was that this magician once somehow from afar tried to strike him down at a young age, so he would never have to face him. But the evil spell was deflected, sealing the magician's spirit away in a series of unassuming vessels until he could find some other cunning way to enter our universe. The attack supposedly left him with his distinctive scar. 8ut at some point he became disillusioned with magic. Any truth to his far fetched vision, the legacy of defeating the evil magician would have to 8e passed on to his descendant, or if his descendant proved to be as much of a failure as he did, then perhaps on some other Hero of Hope. I'm unsure why he suffered this crisis of faith, aside from the obvious reasons having to do with an overall lack of character, or any other redeeming qualities. Perhaps someone talked him out of his 8eliefs. Maybe a friend close to him. Or, if one is to 8elieve his fantasy held any water, perhaps someone who was in league with the evil magician.

Yep! It's just fucking Harry Potter, with a twist! But it's implied that Kurloz did that. He is pretty well known for colluding with the "Evil Wizard" in question, being Lord English, as well as mysteriously being there at every major event, ever... And Cronus is terrified of him, so. I think the only reasonable assumption is that Once Again, Kurloz Did It.

------

On Cronus's Ableism...

And finally... Wait. Wait, hold on a minute...

Did you just ask me for evidence that Cronus is Ableist?

The other two things are understandable, but... Really? You need a source on Cronus Ampora being Ableist? Are you... New here? Have you ever actually read anything Cronus has ever said? Brother, Cronus being Ableist is just about the most obvious trait he has. This is one of the key takeaways most people get from the Openbounds. His ableism is so fucking bad it's what made most people stop reading the Openbounds. His ableism is so bad it's genuinely triggered people before. It's so bad it's made people physically nauseous.

Well... You asked for it. I appreciate you seeking out knowledge, even if I'm a little confused by it. Here's a compilation of SOME - stressing, SOME, not ALL - of the vile things he's said to Mituna, who's mentally disabled due to a Traumatic Brain Injury.

Presented without further comment. Do I really need to make one?

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You have a lovely day, too, Anon. Take care. May fortune find you, in mind and in wallet. Lol.

[yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout]

Okay so, I'm getting increasingly confused over the timeline of when Aziraphale and Crowley have met over the ages.

Since I'm writing a S3 fic with lots of flashbacks, I figured that I needed to have a concrete and canon timeline so I don't end up accidentally writing a meeting when there shouldn't be one (ie when Crowley was asleep in the 14th century), and I cannot for the life of me find one that has S2 in it so I present to you:

The Nice and Accurate (hopefully) Timeline of Aziraphale & Crowley and their many meetings throughout the ages.

By Yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout.

Pls let me know if I've missed anything.

Before time was invented - God created the universe.

Before the Beginning - Our dynamic duo meet for the first time, as Crowley creates a Nebula with Aziraphale's help.

After The Beginning (the bible never gave dates for this kinda thing) - Crowley saunters vaguely downwards towards hell with the others who are cast out.

4004 B.C. - Eve is tempted by the Demon Crowley (in snake form) to eat the forbidden fruit. This is the first time we see Crowley in his demon form and the first time he (as a demon) meets Aziraphale, well - that we know of anyway.

3004 B.C, Mesopotamia - OI SHEM! Aziraphale and Crowley meet and watch as Noah gathers the animals two by two onto the ark.

2500 B.C, Uz - Aziraphale and Crowley work together to save Job's children from being killed. Aziraphale lies to heaven and fears he will be taken to hell. Bildad the Shuite is a babe.

33 A.D., Golgotha - Aziraphale and Crowley witness the crucifixion of Jesus. Crowley remarks that he 'showed Jesus the kingdoms of Earth'.

41 A.D., Rome - Aziraphale tempts Crowley to Oysters.

537 A.D., the Kingdom of West Essex - Knight of the table round, Sir Aziraphale encounters Crowley as the Black Knight. This is where the 'deal' is first raised.

1301 A.D - 1400 A.D - Crowley sleeps through the 14th century.

1601 A.D The Globe Theatre, London - Aziraphale and Crowley meet at a production of Hamlet. They have been participating in the 'deal' for some time now.

1650 A.D - Aziraphale does the apology dance for the first time.

1793 A.D, Paris, France - Aziraphale is about to be beheaded, but Crowley intervenes and saves him.

1800 A.D Soho, London - Aziraphale opens his bookshop and Crowley successfully prevents him from returning to heaven at Gabriel's orders, by fooling him with some mannequins.

1827 A.D Edinburgh - Crowley and Aziraphale meet Elspeth, a body snatcher, and are caught up in her endeavours.

Aziraphale then does not see Crowley until...

1862 A.D London's St. James Park - Crowley asks Aziraphale for Holy Water, as a 'just in case'. Appalled, Aziraphale leaves.

1941 A.D London - Aziraphale is caught up in a bait and switch with some Nazis. He is rescued by Crowley. One thing leads to another and Aziraphale is a magician in a show, the Nazi's become Zombies and to cut a long story short, it ends with the pair dining together.

1967 A.D Soho, London - Crowley meets Lance Corporal Shadwell and plans to steal Holy Water from a church. Hearing of this, Aziraphale appears to him in his Bentley and delivers a flask of it to him.

2008 A.D Soho, London - Crowley and Aziraphale meet to discuss the Antichrist and plan to become his godparents to raise him as a 'normal' child, neither influenced by heaven or hell.

2008 A.D - 2019 A.D - Crowley disguises himself as Nanny Ashtoreth and Aziraphale, as the Gardener Brother Francis, and the two try to influence Warlock.

2019 A.D - The events of the first season of Good Omens happens, our pair prevent Armageddon and live happily ever... wait what, a second season?

2020 A.D - 2022 A.D - Lockdown happens. This is where the 'Lockdown' video takes place.

2023 A.D - Pain, otherwise known as Season 2, happens.

I really hope this helps some of you with fic planning and stuff. I was getting really confused over when they met and when certain things started happening, that I needed a record for myself - then thought I should share it!

Edited to add: Thank you for the comments, pointing out some things I've missed! I've added lots of them in now. I've only really included events where the two have met (either in show or in book), and have not added in the bits that Neil Gaiman has added (such as the Wild West scenes etc). If there is a script book for S2 and they are in there - I will come back and add them in.

For a timeline that goes over other significant events in their history, please check out the amended version by @graviitron - they've added some cool bits in there, so thank you! 🥰

[childrenofthesun77]

Spoilers for chapter 147

Okay, mikuni has baited people into doing what he secretly wants by revealing information to them before (like when he told sakuya about the barrier spell) so maybe he wanted mahiru to come to the the realization that he came to, but if not lol.

Basically mikuni says to mahiru that even if he remembers the old world that it's not the world his current self has lived in, that world would be the one he's presently in and that's why he shouldn't fight to return to the old one.

He also tells mahiru why he doesn't have the powers of a magician despite his parents both being magicians. Akira had researched how to revive people for her brother because their parents had died young. She didn't go through with it, but did end up using it when mahiru died in an accident. Mahiru came back at the cost of akira's life and also lost his magical power in the process.

But because in the new world mahiru had been saved by his father he never died. Mahiru realizes that because of that his current self has the power of a magician and starts using it against mikuni

[heykayhayes]

I got to bring my character Barnabas into Candela Obscura this week and had so much fun!! He was The Face (Magician) as an upper class socialite who joined the circle to try and figure out how to exorcise a beautiful tea set he bought at auction that is too haunted to host with.

During the game he used a screaming sugar bowl to distract the monster we fought. I have a feeling he's the bait often in a mystery gang dynamic, which I love for him. He's very loud and sparkly.