#my son is a bird and NOT a bad murdering king

[omnipotentnothing]

I redownloaded this self-care app (Finch) and got to name this cute little bird. His name is Richard III..😍😍😍😍

I sure do hope Henry of Richmond doesn't raise an army and attack my poor baby to kill him in battle to become King or something that would be horrible and unpredicted ☹️

[raibebe]

Genre: angst, horror(?), lots of hurt and a little comfort Words: 6.101 Prompt: freshly turned vampire Chenle

Warnings: undefined illness, vampires (duh), graphic descriptions of burns, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, literal murder, semi-graphic(?) descriptions of murder, Chenle is going batshit crazy, he’ll be okay I swear

A/N: Uhm... Hi! A Chenle fic... That's new... I just want to say that he is my baby and I'm sorry for what he's been put through but he's a baby vamp and in my book, they need tragic backstories... In case you have noticed, I may or may not have accidentally created another universe, please excuse me, I just love world- and character-building...

In case you feel like there are any more warnings missing, please tell me! Also as always, huge thanks to @wooahaeproductions who makes sense of my long ass sentences! 🤍 And to @starlitmark for being awesome and supportive! 💕

Chenle was sick. He had been sick for a long time. Ever since he could remember, his mother would make him drink bitter liquids and swallow pills the size of small bird eggs. He was seldom allowed to play outside like his younger siblings. His father always said it was so he would have more time to read and study, so he could be a better king in the future but Chenle was sure it was to keep him from the outside and whatever harm there was. The physicians never told him what was wrong with him when they would whisper amongst themselves and by the time he had grown into his sharp features, he had stopped asking what was wrong when their frowns deepened. He let himself be pricked by needles and his body folded into different positions without a single word of complaint. 

“He is very sick,” he had overheard the head physician tell his mother one night when he had snuck out of bed to watch the blood moon from the gardens and not through his tinted windows. “Have you found a cure yet?” “I’m afraid there is none, your Majesty.” A deafening clap had resounded through the empty corridor after that, making the young prince flinch. He knew that sound. His mother had hit the man who was trying to heal her son. “Find one,” the Queen spat, venom dripping from her words, “He is the crown prince. And he will take his throne. He will wear his crown.” 

That night had burned itself into Chenle’s young mind. On one hand, he knew that he was doomed to die young. On the other hand he had his mother on his side, who brought in physicians from all over their lands and even beyond to examine and heal her only son. 

As a child, he had never understood why the physicians said that he was sick. He never felt sick. But the older he got, the more he could feel the toll the sickness took on his body. When he was twirling his sisters around in the ballroom to the sweet melodies the musicians were playing, he would often get dizzy and call for breaks after only a couple of songs. He had to stop his walks through the elaborate rose garden his mother curated soon after he started because his legs just wouldn’t listen to his commands on the way back. And that autumn, he found himself bedridden, a fever tinting his pale skin pink despite how cold he felt. Chenle was lucid for the first weeks but as the days became shorter and shorter, he would slip in and out of consciousness, often waking up to the pinpricks of pain from another needle. The physicians had started to not only make him drink their increasingly worse concoctions but also inject him with things. He wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing. 

One night, beneath the light of the full moon, he woke up from his delirium to the Queen sitting next to him. She was clad in her bedrobes and patting his face with a cool cloth. “My sweet child,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his damp forehead. “I am going to die,” Chenle had answered, his voice hoarse from not speaking for days. “No,” his mother had choked out, tears filling her eyes, “I will not let that happen.” Weakly, he reached for her delicate hands, using all his strength to squeeze her hand. “Let me go.” “I can’t,” the Queen mouthed, holding her son’s bony hand up to her lips as tears streamed down her face, “You’re my everything, Lele. My little star.” 

Chenle’s mother had cried that night until the prince had fallen under again, his grip becoming even weaker. Once her tears had dried, she looked at the sunken-in face of her son who used to have the most adorable chubby cheeks when he was just a child. And with that in mind, she made a decision. She called for her personal messenger and swore him to secrecy before she told him to bring in the man she had vowed to only ever send for as her very last resort. The man wasn’t a physician. She wasn’t even sure if he was a man. He was a myth. A miracle healer so to speak. But she was ready to pray for a miracle right about now. Chenle was her everything and she was not going to lose him. 

On a rainy night a couple of days later, the Queen was spending each waking hour watching over her son’s fever dreams when a man hidden beneath a thick coat with a big hood was banging at the castle’s doors, claiming that the Queen had sent for him: The miracle healer. The queen rushed down the stairs to personally guide him to her son’s sleeping quarters, telling the man all about her son’s condition but he silenced her with just a wave of his hand at the sight of the Prince. The man - his figure still hidden beneath the thick coat - bent over Chenle, examining the condition he was in and feeling his burning skin. “I can heal him,” he concluded with a deep, raspy voice, “But it comes with a price.” “Anything,” the Queen immediately complied, “You will get anything you need to save my son.” “Oh, the price is for him to pay,” the healer clarified. “Will he be healthy again? So he can play with his siblings and take his rightful place on the throne?” “Yes, my Queen. He will be stronger than he has ever been.” “Heal him,” the Queen ordered, “At any price.” “So shall it be,” he bowed his head, “Can I request for some privacy to perform my craft?” With a heavy heart, the Queen nodded and let the heavy wooden door fall into the lock behind her. 

The Queen wasn’t sure how long the man was left alone with her son. She had counted three nearby lightning strikes before the man walked through the door again. “He needs rest,” the man told her, “When the moon kisses the top of the trees for the second time tomorrow night, he will wake up.” “And he will be healed?” “If he’s left alone until then, his body will overcome everything,” he promised and with another bow, he excused himself to walk down the corridor. The Queen’s heart longed to see her son again after he had been left alone in the man’s company for so long but if his healing was disturbed by her presence, she was not willing to risk it. 

The next day felt like it was several moons long to the Queen and she found herself walking past her son’s bedroom door over and over again. When the night had fallen, the Queen couldn’t fall asleep next to her snoring husband who had always taken their son’s sickness a lot better than she had. In the end, she got up to go to her sunroom where she was watching the moon make its way along the night sky until it was barely meeting the trees. Jumping out of her seat, she all but ran to her son’s chambers where she briefly collected herself and softly opened the door. 

Chenle was lying in bed just as she had left him yesterday, unmoving and pale, but his cheeks weren’t pink with fever anymore and his hair was dry. With a smile on her lips, she rushed over to his side to cup his face, to feel the swell of his cheeks in her palms. When her palm met his skin, the Queen flinched back. Her son’s skin was cold. Colder than she had ever felt him or any of his siblings after they had played outside in the snow. “No, no, no,” she mumbled, frantically peeling back the thick layers of blankets to feel the rest of his body which beneath his light blouse and trousers was just as cold as his face. Throughout the whole disturbance, he didn’t move a muscle and could be moved like a doll. With tears blinding the Queen’s sight, she squeezed her son’s wrist to look for a pulse. But it never came. Her son had died. 

With a toe-curling scream, she laid her body over Chenle’s, wetting his blouse with her tears and rattling his unmoving body with her sobs. “Mother?” The first time the Queen heard her son’s voice, she was sure she was hallucinating. She could feel his cold body beneath her. He was no more. “Why are you crying, mother?” It was almost like she could feel his voice resounding in his chest. “I’m feeling all better, you don’t need to cry.” When she felt hands stroking through her hair, she shot upright. And like a miracle, her son was looking right back at her, a smile on his full lips. “I’m feeling better,” he repeated himself, “I’m hungry.” “Lele,” the Queen gasped, cupping his face again. But just like the first time, his skin was as cold as ice. “I’m fine, mother,” he reassured her. With trembling hands, the Queen reached over to the nightstand to lift the candle she had brought in. And to her horror, her son’s beautiful deep brown eyes were no more. Instead, she was looking into the bright red eyes of a predator. 

“What’s wrong, mother?” Chenle didn’t understand why his mother’s eyes were so wide and why she wouldn’t answer him. Was he having another fever dream? But he felt better. Better than he had ever felt. Like he could uproot trees. Sitting up, he reached out for his mother who only flinched back. “I’m well. I’m healed.” “Stay away from me,” she pressed out, sliding off of the bed and slowly walking towards the door. “What is happening, mother? I don’t understand. I’m so hungry.” “You are a monster. I should have never gone this far.” His mother’s words cut through the young prince like a knife. And they hurt even more than the sound of the door falling back into the lock and the key turning to lock him inside. 

Why was she not happy to see him be better? Looking down at his body, he couldn’t see why his mother had called him a monster. His skin looked pale but he had been pale all his life, especially in the last years. But he had meat on his bones. His forearms were strong when he flexed the muscle. This was good. The same went for the rest of his body when he patted himself down. Everything was in order, his body had healed. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and getting up, he didn’t feel any dizziness or nausea, only hunger swirling in his gut. 

Carefully, the Prince took a couple of steps. To his surprise, his knees didn’t buckle and his legs didn’t give out. With a wide grin, he walked over to the window and looked outside into the gardens. Oh, how he had missed seeing the green of the trees and the little bursts of colors telling him that it was way into the autumn season. Feeling like he was on top of the world, he looked over to his mirror and to his horror, all that he could see were his clothes standing in his room. Was this a dream after all? A nightmare? Slowly, the Prince waved his hand and the sleeve of his blouse followed suit. He frantically pulled the garment off and threw it to the ground. His torso still wasn’t visible in the mirror. Completely in shock, Chenle realized that he couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammer inside his skull or his blood rushing in his ears. Pressing his hands firmly to his chest, he tried to feel for a heartbeat. Even with his eyes pressed shut to concentrate, he couldn’t feel anything. Falling to his knees, he unseeingly stared at the intricate designs on his carpet. He had heard of this before. Read books about the condition. He hadn’t thought it to be true, that it was possible. But he was the living, or rather dead proof of it. He was a vampire. His mother had somehow turned him into a vampire.

Chenle wasn’t sure how long he kneeled there on the carpet, trying to make sense of his raging thoughts with nothing to keep him company but the sounds of the night and the occasional servant hurrying along the corridors. Why would his mother let him be turned into a vampire if she despised the creatures of the night? Why go this far if she was scared and disgusted of her only son now? Did his father know? His sisters? What would they do with him? Keep him locked up? Let him starve?

At that thought, the gnawing feeling of hunger punched him in the gut like a boxer. Gasping, he toppled over, his arms gripping his bare stomach as if they could shield him from the pain. When he tried to bite down on his lip to distract himself from the pain in his stomach, a piercing pain shot through him and dark droplets of blood fell onto the pristine carpet. Fangs. His fangs had dropped and punctured his lip. Bringing his hand up, Chenle gently felt the edge of the sharp teeth that were digging into his lower lip. And as if the gnawing feeling of hunger wasn’t enough, pain was also settling into his gums where his fangs sat. 

With a groan, he lifted himself upright again, his hands clenched into fists. He needed to talk to his mother. There was just one other thing he hadn’t considered: His bedroom was facing east. So when he was moving his head up and out of the shadow that his window cast, a burning pain shot through the back of his head and with a blood-curdling scream, Chenle fell again, cradling his head and curling into a ball. But in the process, more of his body got exposed to the light of the rising sun, causing painful blisters to appear on the reddened skin of his back. With another scream, he threw his body in the direction of his bed, rolling beneath the heavy bed frame to shield his body from the scathing sun. Even if he didn’t need to anymore, his chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he stared at his skin healing itself: the blisters getting smaller and smaller until the skin had knit itself back together, the red, irritated color fading slowly until he was left with milky-white skin. Not even a single blemish showed what had just happened. 

Fascinated by what his body could do, he experimentally grabbed onto one of the pieces of wood that were supporting his thick mattress. He slowly tightened his grip and sure enough, without even using much strength, the wood began to creak and splinter beneath his fingers but none of the wood was able to pierce through his skin. 

He was truly invincible. Well- if you forgot about the incident with the sunlight. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Chenle realized that he had no other choice but to wait it out. Once the sun had set, he’d be able to talk to his mother so they could figure out what they could do about his…new condition. That was what it was, right? Just another sickness. One that made him incredibly strong and heal really fast but unable to see his own reflection or walk in the sunshine. But his people already knew that their Prince was sick. So they could just tell them that the Prince was never to leave the palace walls and put thicker curtains in the throne room to block out the sun. It could all be alright again. 

Chenle wasn’t sure how long he was holding out beneath his bed already, the only thing to keep him company being the gnawing feeling of hunger inside his belly. He was sure he had heard the guards changing twice in front of his room, speaking with hushed voices about how none understood why the Prince was to be kept inside his room when he was bedridden. With a bitter snort, Chenle had thrown a punch against his bed frame that left the wood with a splintered indent of his fist and nothing more. He wasn’t sure where this sudden burst of anger came from, he usually wasn’t this hot-headed but the feeling of hunger was slowly driving him insane along with the pain in his jaw. 

When the sun had almost completed its journey along the sky, the patches of sunlight coming through his windows stretched further and further. Chenle was all but vibrating out of his skin. Thoughts were hard to formulate and even harder to keep from flowing away when all he wanted to do was to sink his teeth into something or rather someone to quench both the ache in his jaw and the beast sitting where his stomach used to be. 

Over the course of this day, which must have been the longest in his entire life, he had let the sun burn his skin over and over again, testing the limits of his body and how the strength of the sun would affect him and he was starting to regret it. It had only made him more hungry. Or thirsty, he should probably say. Briefly, he wondered if he could eat raw and bloody meat but as soon as the thought came, it got lost inside his head again. 

But instead of his brain going in circles about how hungry he was and how he could almost taste the sweat of the guard standing in front of his room, a sudden pain seemed to split his skull in two, ripping a scream from Chenle’s parched throat. Gripping his hair tightly, he tried to understand what was happening. It made no sense. He had been hiding here all day and it had been fine. 

The invisible knife that seemed to have lodged itself in his skull also appeared to be poisonous. A fire began flowing inside his veins, filling his chest with a sensation as if he was burning alive from the inside out, the pain far worse than when he had burned his back earlier. 

Curling up into a ball, Chenle clawed at his own skin, digging his sharp nails into the skin until it broke but it did nothing to ease or distract him from the phantom pains. Screaming and crying, he convulsed on the floor, dripping what little blood he had left in his body onto his light carpet. Just as sudden as the pain had come, it was gone again, leaving Chenle feeling almost hollow. He wasn’t sure for how long he blankly stared at the drops of crimson that stained the pristine carpet but he simply didn’t have it in him to move. It almost felt like he was back in a feverous state, his consciousness floating somewhere above his body. 

With another cry of agony, he came back to his body, his chest heaving and his head dizzy. He needed to get out from beneath the bed, the dark wood suddenly too close. Blinded by a sudden onslaught of panic, Chenle - not yet used to the new strength his body possessed - shoved against the underside of the bed, splintering the wood and breaking the frame. He wasn’t sure how exactly he got out from beneath the bed but when he finally stood at his window, the handle broken and the cool breeze of the evening fanning over his skin, his bed was nothing more than a pile of wood with a mattress on top and rogue feathers floating around the room. The presence of the moon helped to calm the young vampire and with controlled breaths, he got his chest to stop rattling with panic, only slightly cracking the windowsill with how tightly he had gripped onto it. 

“Prince Chenle!” A voice called from the outside and he could hear several heavy footsteps outside of his door before the key turned in the lock. Several guards stepped inside his room and the moment the smell of their bodies hit Chenle’s nose, hell broke loose: He didn’t even process the words that left the first guard’s mouth, his head snapping around to see them reaching for their swords. They were here to kill him. His own mother had ordered his death. He couldn’t die. He had done nothing wrong. 

With his face contorted in anger, he dashed towards the group. With a single punch to the guard’s side, Chenle was able to hear bones crack beneath his fist and the guard’s sword falling to the ground with a loud noise. When he cried out in pain, it made the veins in his neck stand out so temptingly, that Chenle couldn’t stop himself. With his fangs already dropped, he opened his jaws wide and buried his teeth in the guard’s neck, the flesh ripping easily as fresh blood flooded his tongue. It was heaven. He had never tasted anything quite like this. None of the expensive wines he had drank during banquets could even come close to the explosion of flavor on his tongue. 

He needed more. More. Annoyed that his meal was moving, Chenle gripped the guard’s head and forced it further to the side. He felt something snap and the man went limp in his grip but he couldn’t care less when he buried his teeth again to swallow more of the crimson liquid that soothed the ache in his stomach and left his mind reeling with pleasure. 

Sadly, the other guards must have snapped themselves out of their stupor and they unsheathed their swords as well. The sound of the mental scraping against the leather pulled Chenle’s attention from the corpse in his arms to the other guards. With a wicked grin on his lips, he let the corpse fall to the ground in a heap of their own blood and after he wiped the blood from his lips, he was delighted to see absolute fear in the guards’ eyes. 

“You can’t run from me,” he drawled before he pounced, snapping the neck of the one closest to him and burying his teeth deep into the throat of the second one, letting him drop to the floor as well after he took another deep gulp of blood. 

“My mother,” he spoke slowly as he approached the last guard, “Where is the Queen?” The guard didn’t answer, irritating Chenle to high heavens. His sword was trembling in his hand and his eyes were so wide, Chenle was afraid they’d just pop out of their sockets and roll over the stained floorboards like marbles. “I asked a question. Won’t you answer your Prince?” He tried again, gripping the sword between his fingers to point it down so he could step closer to the frozen guard, bringing his mouth up against his neck. “Tell me where the Queen is,” he whispered again, deliberately letting his teeth scrape the skin. “Sh- She- She is in her- her sunroom, my- my Prince,” the guard stuttered pathetically. “Thank you for your service,” Chenle chuckled darkly before he finally gave in to the urge to bite into his neck, already addicted to the taste of fresh blood. 

With a satisfying thud, the vampire let the last body drop to the floor as well, eyeing the carnage left behind with a sick smile on his face. How had his mother ever thought that four measly guards were enough to take him down? On bare feet and with blood dripping down his chin onto his chest, Chenle stepped over the corpses and into the empty hallway, leaving bloody footprints behind on his way to his mother’s sunroom. 

With his newly heightened senses, Chenle could easily tell that there were more people than just his mother near her sunroom. Just as he had assumed, in front of the room stood another three guards and to Chenle’s surprise the head of the guards was among them. “Move,” he growled as he stepped into view, baring his teeth to show his bloody fangs. “You’re alive,” the guard on the left gasped, reaching for his sword with a shaky hand. “Of course I am,” the Prince just laughed, “You didn’t really think four measly guards would be enough to kill me?” When no one dared to answer, the vampire barked out a laugh. “Oh, but you really did. How stupid of you.” “Where are my men?” The head of the guards demanded to know as if their blood on Chenle’s body wasn’t enough of a tell.

“In hell,” was Chenle’s dark answer and within a blink of an eye, he was at the man’s throat, his teeth easily ripping through cartilage and muscle tissue. A last pathetic gurgle left the dying man’s lips before he dropped to the ground and Chenle spit out the piece of flesh he had ripped out. The two other guards watched in shock, frozen in place. “What?” He cocked his head to the side, watching their commander twitch in a pool of his own blood. “Scared?” When they didn’t answer, he went on. “Dying is peaceful. I would know.” “Please,” one of the guards pleaded pathetically, his sword falling to the ground with a loud thud, “I- I have a wi- a wife and- and a son. He- he just started a walk an-“ Chenle didn’t let the guard finish, grabbing his head to smash it into the stone wall. 

“That was annoying,” he sighed, delighted at the cracking he had felt in the skull. “Now what am I going to do with you?” Instead of answering, the last guard simply fell to his knees, his sword limply in his hand. “Pft,” the prince snorted, “I don’t know if that one was more or less pathetic.” To one up the previous performance, the guard bared his neck as well, presenting Chenle with the tempting thump of his carotid. “Oh, it’s definitely you,” he snickered, stepping over to the sweating man, “Thank you for the meal.” With a moan, Chenle buried his fangs in the man’s throat, blood rushing out of the wound and onto his tongue, the man’s fear making it that much sweeter. 

Once the beast in his chest was satiated by the sweet blood, another body joined the two of his comrades on the floor. They did look pathetic even in their death. Maybe Chenle should close their eyes. But before he could bend down, a sound in his mother’s sunroom caught his attention: a quiet creak. The hidden door his mother thought he and his siblings didn’t know about. He would not let her get away. She needed to hear him out. 

Bursting into the room with the big windows all along the side of it making it feel like they were actually sitting in the gardens, the door all but fell off the hinges from the force. Chenle found the Queen almost stepping into the secret pathway. “Don’t. Move,” he ordered, holding himself back from pouncing on the woman who had turned him into a monster. “Chenle don’t do this,” she spoke with a quivering voice, her eyes shaking as she took in her son, blood dripping from his bare chest. “Don’t do what, mother?” “You don’t want to kill me.” “But you wanted to kill me,” he shot back. “I never intended for this to happen to you,” the Queen pleaded, her knuckles turning white around the handle of her secret pathway. “I’m faster than you. Don’t do that,” Chenle coldly reminded her, watching with a sick delight at how his mother’s hand shook when she released the handle. “Chenle…” “No. You. You did this to me. You didn’t ask if I wanted this. And then you decide to just have me murdered because you can’t have your only son, your successor to the throne be a vampire,” he accused her. “Well I didn’t want this either,” she interrupted him with a loud scream that rang in his sensitive ears, “You were dying and the physicians had tried everything!” “I told you to let me die!”

That of all things seemed to make his mother shut up. “I told you to let me go. I made my peace with it,” he added with a more quiet voice, all but pleading. “I couldn’t, Chenle,” the Queen answered just as quietly, “I couldn’t just let you die like this.” “And yet, you killed me anyway.” “I didn’t know,” she choked out, tears filling her eyes as she opened her arms for him to fall into like he was back to being just a child. “Mother,” he sniffled, his body losing all tension as he stumbled into her familiar embrace, staining the silk of her gown with the blood that was sticking to his frame. It was so strange how quickly things had changed and it made the embrace feel both familiar and foreign at the same time. “I’m so sorry, my little star,” his mother breathed quietly, adjusting her grip around him. 

“I forgi-“ Chenle couldn’t finish his sentence, pain bloomed in his flank and he couldn’t believe his own eyes when he looked down to see a dagger lodged deep inside his body. “Mother..?” “It’s better like this,” she whispered, gently stroking a strand of hair behind his ear. If Chenle still had a heartbeat, he was sure that his blood would be rushing through his ears so loudly that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything else. His chest started to heave with nonsense breaths, the pace erratic as a red veil seemed to fall over his vision. “You’re dead to me,” he snarled, watching in delight how his mother’s eyes widened before he felt his fangs drop and everything around him turned into a mess of blood and anger.

“Oh little one…” The softly spoken words were the first thing Chenle sensed consciously in a while. With great effort, he tried to focus his blurry vision. “What a mess you made,” the voice went on before Chenle heard footsteps. The man was coming closer. Finally, his vision seemed to clear and he could recognize the bloody corpse he held clutched to his chest, its face distorted in a mask of fear. The Queen was dead. With a wet thud, her body fell from his grip into the pool of blood on the floor. A whimper dared to slip past his lips but he held it in as he bit down hard. His fangs had retracted and the monster inside him seemed satiated. 

The next thing Chenle felt was soft fabric slipping over his bare shoulders. Confused, he looked up from the carnage at his feet to look into the red eyes of a man he had never seen before. “Hello Prince Chenle,” the man smiled gently, his voice soft and non-threatening like he was trying to coax a wild animal out of hiding. Carefully, he uncurled Chenle’s blood-smeared hand and held it in his, seemingly not caring about getting himself dirty. “Let’s get you somewhere more safe.” “But my family,” he argued weakly but let himself be pulled up on his feet. With a meaningful look, the man took a glance around the room and with static filling his own mind, Chenle followed his example. He couldn’t begin to count the number of twisted corpses in the room, the Queen at the center of it all, her dress dyed red from all the blood. “Take me away,” the Prince asked, his voice cracking when he recognized the faces twisted with fear and horror, their unseeing eyes looking right at him. 

With a squeeze of his hand, the man with the red eyes pulled the Prince away from the bloodbath, tucking him against his side when he felt him tremble. “It’s over now,” he reassured Chenle as he led him out of the castle where a dark carriage with heavy curtains in front of the windows and door awaited them. The carriage driver didn’t even bat an eye at the state Chenle was in and simply opened the door with a bow of his head for the two men. 

Climbing in, Chenle wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit. Opposite of the man or next to him? “Sit,” the man quirked one of his eyebrows at him, patting the blood-red cushion next to him. With a huff, Chenle let himself be swallowed by the seat, tightly wrapping himself in the man’s jacket. 

With a snap of the whip, the carriage started moving and the castle got smaller and smaller. When it was nothing more than a shadow in the distance, Chenle focused on the man next to him instead. He was only wearing a thin blouse, expensive fabric and tailored specifically to fit his build, Chenle could tell. Tapered to show off his broad shoulders and his slim waist and with polished cufflinks at the sleeves. His pants were a simple, dark color and his shoes only had minimal blood splatters on the leather. The most striking thing about the man - who Chenle now was sure was of noble blood - had to be his bright red eyes though, telling on his true nature: a vampire like himself. His face was all angles and strong lines, his jawline prominent and his nose high. He briefly wondered if the beauty mark beneath his eyes was painted on. He’d seen his sisters do it. 

His sisters… Chenle couldn’t remember if their faces had been among the corpses in the sunroom. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened after his mother had stabbed him until the stranger’s voice had broken him out of his stupor. 

“What… What happened to me?” Chenle asked with a small voice, pulling the stranger’s jacket tighter around his frame, as if it could shield him from the harsh truth. “Fledglings have a very special bond to their sire. Especially right after their rebirth,” the man explained with a calm voice, his bright red eyes focused on the landscape passing by. “Sire?” “The man who created you,” he clarified, “And your mother had him executed, severing that bond. Losing their sire is traumatic, even for older vampires, so it’s a miracle I found you in such good shape.” That comment had Chenle snort bitterly. “I killed my entire family.” “You could have destroyed yourself,” the man said with an almost fond look in his eyes, “You’re very strong for enduring that kind of pain.” “Don’t feel like it,” the fledgling mumbled, scratching at the drying flakes of blood on his skin. “Believe me, I’ve seen more than one fledgling succumb to madness in my days.”

“And how old are you exactly?” That question made the man grin and shake his head. “Isn’t that a funny thing to ask? My body is not much older than yours.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “You’re a curious one.” “At least tell me your name if you’re going to take care of me.” “Jeno,” the man spoke, “You can call me Jeno.” “Just Jeno?” “Family names don’t mean a thing when you’ve been alive for decades.” “Or dead.” “Or dead,” Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Does- Does the..?” “Does the carriage driver know? Yes. Everyone does in my home.” “Home? Is that where we’re going?” “It can become your home if you wish to,” the older vampire smiled, “Even if it must not be much for a prince like you.” “I’m no prince any longer. I’m just Chenle.” “Then we can be just Jeno and just Chenle,” Jeno smiled, gently ruffling Chenle’s blood-sticky hair. 

“Thank you,” the fledgling whispered so quietly, he could barely hear his own words but Jeno must have heard him anyway because he just wordlessly intertwined their fingers again to squeeze Chenle’s hand. “You’ll be okay,” he promised, “I’ll teach you about your new life and provide you with whatever you need.” “A bath would be nice.” “I’ll let my servants draw you a bath,” Jeno chuckled fondly, the warm sound making Chenle smile as well. “I’m tired but not sleepy…” “You’ve been through a lot, little one,” Jeno spoke softly, adjusting in his seat so Chenle could rest against his shoulder more comfortably, “Rest while your mind will let you. We still have quite the journey ahead of us.” “Thank you,” Chenle mumbled again, the tension immediately leaving his body as he rested against Jeno.

[daisymylove]

Sword catcher spoilers, speculations and theories about "Ragpicker King" and some ramblings ahead, proceed at your own discretion.

So I'm 90% sure Vienne is alive and we will find it out when lin comes to the palace to treat her

She has an official art and there was a whole snippet about her, I don't see the point of making all that fuss about a character that was going to have three interactions with Kel (speaking of which, I kind of shipped them even tho I know ana will be his end game 👉🏻👈🏻 am I the only one?), kill some random guys and bite the dust. On top of that her arc was about to get so interesting. She is a trained assassin, oath bound to protect this little girl, whom she loves deeply, until she dies, but then her charge was murdered, and her life's mission came crashing down on her. The angst, the potential.Her dying would be a huge waste.

I don't question Jolivet's loyalty, at least not now, but Markus is not a mentally stable person (btw whats up with him? does anyone have a theory?).I think he lied she was dead bc markus may have killed her otherwise and, as dangerous as she is, Vienne may be more useful to them alive than dead with the possibility of a war looming over.I also don't discard the possibility that he may have personal ties to vienne and/or her family. The whole covering her with his cape could have been a show of respect for the black guard if she's really dead, like kel thought, but compounding with the fact that, even tho she charged on conor, jolivet did nothing to either stop or harm her, it struck me as oddly affectionate. Anyone can correct me if im wrong, but I dont remember kel mentioning anything about an accent, which makes me assume she speaks their language on a native level, so there's that

One thing I didn't like was that this trained bad ass assassin was completely unarmed during such an important event.Kel is always armed, even when impersonating conor he had a dagger on his person. Granted, it's easier to conceal weapons on male attire, but it would've been more realistic if she'd had at least one dagger, had been forced to use it and thus was left unarmed. Its not enough to tackle all those guys, as kel himself thought, but she wouldn't have been helpless.

I'm also 90% sure Lin and conor are going to have sex on a beach, I'm willing to bet money on it.I've read way too many books by Cc to not recognize her foreshadowing. Besides, she's fond of writing sex scenes on peculiar locations.

The "yes I'm the goddess come back" may have been scheming on Lin's part (loved that btw) but I'm sure she actually is the goddess come back. She will also be queen, as the prophecy foretells. Charlon saying to luisa "dance for your future court", but Lin ending up being the one to actually dance also reeks of foreshadow.

Now to the ragpicker king, we know almost nothing about andreyen and I have a lot of speculations. First I thought he was the Makabi, what about the ragpicker being a figure that has always existed in Castellane, his symbol being a bird and his having a bowl that allegedly belongs to makabi's lineage. But when he said ragpicker king is a title, which he inherited from another, I put it in the back burner (it hasn't been discarded tho, im not discarding anything for now and he would hardly tell kel "yo I'm this immortal entity and have been forging my death over and over for centuries" if that were the case) in favour of thinking he's the Maharam's exiled son. He's the right age and it makes sense for a boy that has been shunned by everyone and left to fend for himself to turn to crime.

What has been nagging at me, on the other hand, is that he matches Lin's vision of Suleman from her dreams. Pale, tall, handsome, long black hair and when his eyes were going to be described the dream was conveniently interrupted. I'm not saying he is suleman for sure, idk how that would work in practical terms -- is he an immortal and suleman never actually died at the sundering? unlikely, considering Lins dream and how vivid it was. Is he a reincarnation? Under that line of thinking he could be both the exiled boy AND suleman on a single person -- and he could have no relation to him whatsoever, the physical resemblance being just a coincidence (but really?) and I'm just crazy.His interest in the stone and magic in general checks out for both suleman and exiled son, so it isn't really an indicator.

I rather liked andreyen, merren and Ji an, tho, I really don't want him to be the bad guy, but as previously said I'm not discarding anything.It seems pretty obvious to me that he wants to use lin and her abilities in some way, much like he has a use for kel, but that doesn't necessarily mean he has nefarious goals or anything

I think Anjelica, Aimada, the malgasi princess whose name I don't remember now and the prince with the huge bank account will make appearances, they have been mentioned way too much to not feature at all

and what was that dream kel had with fire and phoenixes? There's something there, I can feel it

anyway, that's what I have so far

as a side note, I'm a bit drunk and haven't proofread this properly (i never do when writing on this blog tho, sorry lol), hope its coherent enough

[321spongebolt]

I previously briefly talked about Rio's personality. So, continuing from my last post, here's two versions of my character's personality inspirations. The only difference between them being Rio's appearance with and without his crown.

Like King Julien from the "Madagascar" franchise, Rio sings "I Like to Move It Movie It" in both "Rio" movies. If "Rio 3" happens, I'll try to find a way to fit it in, unless it doesn't get featured in the proposed third movie.

Like Emperor Kuzco from "The Emperor's New Groove" franchise, Rio narrates his own stories as a voice-over. But he will occasionally pause the movie sometimes and show up to either explain things in further detail, or just poke fun at some of the characters or even the setups.

Like Deadpool, Rio's fourth wall-breaking is used in-film and during the times when he pauses the movie. He even points out the obvious on how the whole thing is a movie, or even mentioning the audience from time to time. He'll also mention stuff that Fox owns like "X-Men" and "Ice Age". There's even a logo joke I thought of for either "Rio 2" or "Rio 3" where after Scrat falls off the Blue Sky Studios logo, Rio will sit on the "e" in "Blue", which breaks off, due to Rio's weight. Thus, the logo would now read "Blu Sky Studios" before fading to black.

Like Mufasa, I thought my character could have some similar papa wolf kinds of features. Even going as far as banishing Nigel for attempting to murder Blu, which should be punishable for attempting to murder royalty. But he isn't without his loving qualities, as well as the attention he gets from the birds and humans. Not only is he beloved and respected, but he's also a fair monarch who knows what's best for his subjects, including his son, and his family. He will occasionally give good advice if he needs to, like any father or parent would for their son(s)/daughter(s).

I guess he's also got some of that flair that screams "game show host", to some degree. He also acts as if he were an animated movie star, like how in some movies, like "A Bug's Life", "Toy Story 2", "Monsters Inc.", and even "Mr. Peabody and Sherman", they show outtakes during the end credits, which depict some animated characters like they were actors from a live action film (Click here to learn more about where I'm coming from with this). I don't know if I should do fan outtakes for "Rio" and "Rio 2", but I don't think it's a bad idea, if I could find what I think would work best (ex. After Blu's drawing in the dirt, Rio would draw an acorn in the final film. But for the outtakes, he would draw different things like Wonderbot ("Robots") and maybe a sloth that almost looks like Sid ("Ice Age") before drawing an acorn.).

Credit for this template goes to DeviantArt user TXToonGuy1037

[usagi-zakura]

Fandom sometimes needs to sit their ass down and chill... part 2

Decided to put this one in a separate post because its directed at a different fandom.

Hazbin Hotel.

No its not about expecting demons to be decent people this time...and its mainly criticism directed at the subreddit where some fans have decided to find a bunch of plot holes where there are none because they didn't actually watch the show...

Or something I've been seeing more of recently... people expecting this to be a direct adaptation of the Bible.

A question that keeps popping up is "How is Adam the first human soul in Heaven when he had a son who died before him??"

Referring of course to Abel, of Cain and Abel fame. God's favorite boi because he scarified meat instead of vegetables...so his brother got jealous and murdered him. Presumably Adam was still alive a this point as he went on to have another child.

Hazbin Hotel makes no mention of this... so there's no reason to belive it even happened. Hazbin Hotel borrows some characters from Abrahamic myths, but it has never advertised itself as a 1 to 1 adaptation of the Bible.

It would feel kinda awkward if Sera referred to Adam as "the second human soul in heaven after his kid who got brutally murdered by his own brother but we're not gonna talk about him ever because he's not important to the plot", that'd just be confusing to any fan who isn't familiar with that particular story. Making the bible required reading for an adult cartoon is a little weird.

Its easier to just ignore that story entirely if its not gonna be important to the plot.

Lilith isn't in the bible either.

Shocker I know... She was invented way later, maybe as a reason to explain why in Genesis 1 God creates man and woman at the same time but afterwards he creates Eve separately... Any mention of the name "Lilith" in the old testament doesn't seem to refer to a human, but is mentioned more like the name of a species... some scholars belive it was a bird, or possibly even some kind of demon that may or may not have been important to early Hebrews...or they borrowed the word from some other religion. Happened a lot back on the day.

I look at it more like Disney's Hercules. It borrows the names and general concept of the Greek Pantheon (but changes Hercules' name to the Roman one for some reason...) but does the story in a widly different way...I've never seen someone call out the lack of Hercules/Heracles's brother Iphicles as a huge plot hole in that film... yes he had a brother... or the fact that it features Zeus not as a massive perv with no respect for marriage, whether its his own or his great-granddaughter... Yea that's right... Harecles' mother was also Zeus' great-granddaughter... and that's not even the worst case of incest committed by the King of the Greek Gods...

Same with Hazbin. It borrows some of the characters, that doesn't mean they'll borrow the whole mythology... even if it sometimes would be interesting if they did.... they had 8 episodes... probably wouldn't have time to touch on Adam's messed up sons. Its too busy focusing on how bad both his marriages went.

My point is if you keep expecting creators do do something specific that they never promised they would...don't get mad at them when they don't do that thing... Its not their fault your expectations were wildly different from their plans.

Edit in case someone decides to go "um actually"... this post was made before Abel's Hazbin design was revealed.

However this still doesn't mean he must have died before Adam in this canon or that there's something else that resulted in Adam being the first human soul in Heaven.

[rokonshimo]

“In the beginning, the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.” ― Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

According to the Babylonian epic of creation, the universe was at first just an endless sea. The sea naturally coalesced into distinct forms of saltwater and freshwater, as embodied by myself and my husband Apsû. Where our waters met, we ended up with a bunch of gods, said to be our children – because humans love projecting how their family dynamics work onto the forces of nature.

It’s hard to get any peace or quiet when you’ve got a bunch of noisy gods lying around and you and your husband are the entire universe, so Apsû suggested we just kill them so we could get some damn sleep. Can you blame him? Well, they certainly did. I tried to keep them in line without resorting to all-out war, but no, they had to pre-emptively murder Apsû and his advisor, and make a throne room out of his corpse…

The Enuma Elish would have you believe that this is where Apsû’s greatest son created Marduk, the golden boy of the gods, who heroically slayed me and my eleven monstrous champions in return for being crowned god above all the others – do you really think that's a deal they wouldn't betray at the earliest chance? At least it has the decency to point out they tricked me into all this, causing more noise than ever and preying on my guilt over letting them kill Apsû.

We’ll skip over the part where Qingu and I wage war against my other bastard children and get to the important part – Marduk supposedly steals the Tablets of Destiny from Qingu, cuts me in half and then makes the sky and earth you know today out of the two halves of my corpse. As if the embodiment of primordial chaos could be killed in a way that matters! There’s a bunch of oral tradition in this part, written as the decree of god-king Marduk (tch. There's a reason people equate chaos with anarchy.), and – are you seeing this shit? I guess we’ve reached the part where the bards just say what they think the laws of man should be and call it the will of god… humans.

Anyway, I’ve been talking about the Elish for four paragraphs and not once mentioned the things this essay is actually about. We’re not sure how to transition into that, so we won’t.

Humans can’t stand the idea that their world is just the result of literal billions of years of evolution – look at any creation myth! They’re obsessed with the idea of some god imposing their idea of order onto me. Fine, I guess you have to look pretty deep into the sky – and know what you’re looking at – to figure out that you’re not the only thing in the world, but the idea that you are just runs so deep into western culture!

Look around you – does this world look like anyone did a particularly good job of imposing order onto it? To us, it looks more like the mechanisms of chaos have had even-I-don’t-know how long to run wild and they just so happened to produce, from the practically-infinite expanse of the cosmos, at least one planet on which the primordial soup of life eventually resulted in birds and humans and all the other interesting things you might take for granted.

Just think the words “order” and “chaos.” Think about them. Let me guess, they’re at war with each other and chaos is the “bad guy?” I – sorry, “chaos” – might represent the destruction of everything you hold dear, and the forces of “order” are the only thing keeping me at bay? Oh, please. This isn’t just “the universe is inconceivably complex and unfathomably old,” this is humans being afraid of change. I don’t blame you. Change takes away loved ones, it tears you away from your ideas of who you are, and if you’re a king or something, it might make you stop being a king – and we can’t have that, can we? No, best to cling like a baby koala to the idea that the way things are is the way things will always be.

“The light in the night sky is Nanaar’s crown and its shape traces out the months of the year?” “These six stars in particular move across the night sky in a way that only makes sense if they’re orbiting around something that isn’t our own planet?” “When the emu-shaped pattern in the starscape seems to be nesting, the time is right to collect the eggs of the grounded birds that it resembles?” I shouldn’t be so harsh on the idea of “order” – how else are you supposed to understand an existence so utterly incomprehensible? It’s beautiful, actually, the way people read the patterns of the universe and ascribe meaning to them.

The problems come when you mistake your ideas for being truths in themselves, rather than ways of describing truths more complicated. But that’s a whole other essay that we’ve already written, and I highly doubt we’ll ever publish that one. So in lieu of that, go read this, and understand why we think what we do about the underlying structures of the universe and of human culture.

Goodnight.

Signed, Tiamat and co. of the Cat's Eye Nebula

[nityarawal]

2/28/2025

Eclipsed: In The Hole

Morning Songs

Journals Are Full

My Time Is Done

Want To Leave

California

'Cuz We're Outnumbered

Three Million

Government

Half Poaching

Off #CampCalifornians

Black Cybertruck 

Drove By The

Gold Lotuses

"Let It Be,"

On The Radio

Couldn't Get 

Much More

Perfect

Just Need Anjali

And Isha

To Come With 

Me 

We're Going Home

Elsewhere

Our Cybertruck 

Baby

Is Allergic

To Vegas Pigs

And Trump Attys

One Blew Up

Many Flooded

Our Cybertruck 

Baby

Is Allergic

To Judge Clark

Her Cloying 

Hands

With Supervising

Public Defenders

If You Wanted

A Song About You

You Should've Asked

So Many

Women Re-Thinking

Dykedom

'Cuz You Lowered

Their Class

Dyke Kings At

Court

Are Controlling

All Magistrates

Judge Clark

Overstayed

For She's Got A

Green Thumb

For Murder

Judge Clark

Raped The Littles

Learned Her

Craft

In Airforce

Put In Her

Time At DA

Sleeping With

The Boss

Judge Clark

Swans

Around

Do You Want

To Be Like

Her

Don't Sell Your

Kids

Or Your Bros

To This Pedophile

Monster

She'll Pay

Gigolo Fees

Maybe Get You Off

The Streets

Jury Duty

Plea Bargains 

But At What

Costs

Jonathan

Keeps Spinning

For Whitney Ryan

But How Do 

These Public

Servants

Sleep

At Night

Fuzz Bunnies

Swirl

Around Them

Like Flocks

Of Birds

How Do These 

Imbeciles

Corrupt Criminals

Who Raped

Our Families

Sleep At Night

For They Won't

And No Optimus

Dolls

To Tuck Them In

Tight

How Do You Sleep

At Night

Judge Clark

Is It With The

Memory

Of Your Papa

How Do You Sleep

At Night

Did You Treat

The Atty Kids

To Fire Aid

How Do You Sleep

Do You Pay

A Persian Gigolo

Like My Brother

To Calm

Your Nerves

How Do You Sleep

Will You Have

The Son Kill

His Father

Again

Rotating Playbook

For

Incompetent

Staff 

How Do You

Sleep

Write A Love

Letter

To LA

How Do You Sleep

Apologise

To All Those

Parents

You Couldn't 

Let Play

How Do You Sleep

On Walter Devasier

Bribes

With Thoughts

Of Flying

In Cyber Planes

How Do You Sleep

Did You Listen

To My Songs

Five Hundred And Forty Days

Recorded

To Help You Along

How Do You

Sleep

Did You Want

To Jury Me

How Do You Sleep

Call Off The

Rapes

Call Off The Bad

Deeds

Call Off The Rapes

And Rest

In Peace

Call Off The Rapes

Of Riverside

And Sandiego

Courts

Call Off The Murders

Of Angels

Throw It Off

Course

Call Off The

Rapes

Call Off Judge

Clark

No One Wants

To Be A Dyke

Like You

Not At Any 

Costs

Holed Up In 

Mold

Candace Kolb

Will Throw In

The Towel

With Coldwell 

For Compass

Dyke Circles

Everywhere

Are Done

Amongst US Politics

Mary Bush Shmitz

Annette Hallneville 

Hera Hub

Felena Hansen

Teresa Truchi

Tara Yelman

They All Threw 

In The Towel

On You- Hu

Ashby Clark Sorrenson 

And Grant Funk

Too

Dr. Jason Clark

Shed His Skin

Of Hungarian

Bugs

Lori Clark Viviano

Still On

The Bottom

Of The Ocean

Walter Clark

Bribed

Off The Radio

Clark Shoes

Are All You

Got Going For

You

Mary Clark

Did Her Physics

Andy Byrd

Drew Lovely

Comics

But Judith Clark

Raped Riverside

County

Lost Her Flower

And Tried To

Make Me Pay

No Deals

Done

For Airforce

Or Marine

Rapists 

Sanction Judge

Judith Clark

To Greenland

With Judge

Davis

And The Collection

Of Culprits 

From Judge Mok To Nadia

Supervisors Kristen Scogin

To Mathew Robert's

And All Their

Spoiled Clerks

Have Had Enough 

Of Big Dykes

On The Stand

Drooling Over Me

And My 

Children

For England 

She Took One

Too Many

Indiscriminative

Opportunities

And Now

She's In The Hole

Washed Out

A Trillion Dollar

Hole

She's In The Hole

A Big Eclipse

Judge Clark

Sucked You

Down

Spiraling

Faster Than Any

Sphynx

She's In The Hole

Double Eclipse

Spiraling

Like A Whirl Pool

Up To Greenland

Backwards

She's In The Hole

Tornado Deep

Wet Like A Dog

Who Wishes For

Mommy

She's In The Hole

Spiraling Counter

Clockwise

In The Hole

Back To Australia

With British

Ex Convicts

She's In The Hole

With Israeli

Airforce

She's In The Hole

With Magistrate Judge Benny

Waggoner

In Iowa

I Babysat

Some Littles

Whose Daddy

Sued My Boss

We Sang

Until They Got

Sent Counter

Clockwise

Along

We Sang Until

They're All Eclipsed

And Our Babies

Are Home

'Cuz Judge Clark

Is In The Hole

Presiding Judge

Just A Fleeting

Role

Judge Clark

Is In The Hole

Trillions Of Dollars

'Cuz I'm Not For

Sale

No Pardons

Judge Clark

Is In The Hole

A Judge Of No

Repute

She Gave VP Kamala

Mold

They're In The

Hole

With No Deals

For England

They're In The Hole

With No Deals

For Canada

They're In The Hole

Should've Asked

The Prototype

You Know

'Cuz You're In

The Hole

And This Is

Entertainment

Karma

In Baby America

Peace, Love, Eternally,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

Encinitasbeachhome.com 

[sinceileftyoublog]

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds Album Review: Wild God

(PIAS)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

During the chorus of "Song of the Lake", the first track from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds' incredible new album Wild God, Cave finds himself in a familiar place: telling a story. "And he sang the song of the lake / And all the king's horses and all the king's men," Cave beckons. You expect him--and perhaps he expects himself--to jump into an English nursery rhyme, using the fable of Humpty Dumpty to somehow comment on the bleakness of the human condition. Instead, he tells us to "never mind, never mind." It's a moment that sets up what the man himself has described as the unbridled joy that pervades Wild God. If throughout his career, Cave has been a troubadour of everything from murder ballads to real life-inspired funeral dirges, on Wild God, he's more preacher of the gospel than shaman working with evil spirits.

It is and will be forever impossible to separate Cave's music with the unfathomable grief he's experienced this past decade, the loss of of two of his sons. Though he knows grief is a non-linear process, Wild God represents the ways in which he has received a newfound sense of optimism and hope and perspective on life. On "Frogs", he's walking home, gazing wonderous at the sight of a frog in the gutter, "leaping to God, amazed of love, amazed of pain, amazed to be back in the water again." On "Joy", Cave at first confronts an all-too-familiar feeling: "I woke up this morning with the blues all around my head / I felt like someone in my family was dead." Accompanied by French horns, piano, and an omnipresent backing chorus, he shares that "a ghost in giant sneakers, laughing stars around his head"--maybe his son, maybe a stranger, and either way, funny--tells him, "We've all had too much sorrow, now is the time for joy."

Cave also sounds invigorated back with The Bad Seeds, sounding like this. Two of their previous albums, 2016's Skeleton Tree and 2019's Ghosteen, were primarily ambient and electronic, staring trauma in the face. Even 2013's Push the Sky Away was moored in minimalism in comparison to the band's back catalog. Indeed, they haven't sounded this upbeat since 2008's Dig, Lazaurs, Dig!!!, trading that album's sexed-up goth garage rock for time in the church. The songs are bolstered by drummer Thomas Wydler, who has apparently put behind him the health problems that prevented him from joining the band on tour in the 2010s. His crisp snares and meaty beats are front and center, even delving into hip-hop on "Conversion" and "O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is)". In conjunction with the backing vocals, the drums make the songs anthemic. On the album's title track, the protagonist is searching for people to believe him and believe in him, Cave in beckoning and wailing mode: "He's moving through your body like a prehistoric bird!" If the backing vocals on Skeleton Tree sounded like a Greek chorus, on Wild God, they sound like a gospel choir, begging us to "Bring your spirit down!" On "Conversion", Cave's lines are syncopated with the chorus's repetition of "Touched by the spirit / Touched by the flame," as propulsive as an MC, a tangible contrast to the song's abstract hues of synthesizer, piano, and flute. And on piano ballad closer "As the Waters Cover the Sea", everyone prays for "peace and good tidings to the land."

That Wild God is a bright album doesn't mean it's lacking in realism. Two of its best songs dive back into earthbound pain. On "Cinnamon Horses", beside circular prickles of acoustic guitar, Cave waxes on the complexity of love through contrasting imagery, "cinnamon horses and the turpentine trees." And then there's "O Wow O Wow". It's dedicated to another deceased loved one, ex-Bad Seed and ex-girlfriend of Cave, Anita Lane, who passed away in 2021. At first, Cave's obscured by vocoder, singing whimsical, beatific verses like, "The country doctor whistles across the meadow / The schoolboy he hops up and says gee whiz!" (Carly Paradis gives us a whistle to aid the story.) But during the song's outro, we hear a recording of Lane in conversation with Cave, reminiscing on the past. There's Cave, again, making us look at death straight in the eyes, but preparing us for a universal truth, asking us to consider that life is beautiful not in spite of it, but because of it.

[catolinewsdailyreadings]

Tuesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of Tuesday, June 18, 2024

Reading 1

1 KGS 21:17-29

After the death of Naboth the LORD said to Elijah the Tishbite: “Start down to meet Ahab, king of Israel, who rules in Samaria. He will be in the vineyard of Naboth, of which he has come to take possession. This is what you shall tell him, ‘The LORD says: After murdering, do you also take possession? For this, the LORD says: In the place where the dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, the dogs shall lick up your blood, too.’” Ahab said to Elijah, “Have you found me out, my enemy?” “Yes,” he answered. “Because you have given yourself up to doing evil in the LORD’s sight, I am bringing evil upon you: I will destroy you and will cut off every male in Ahab’s line, whether slave or freeman, in Israel. I will make your house like that of Jeroboam, son of Nebat, and like that of Baasha, son of Ahijah, because of how you have provoked me by leading Israel into sin.” (Against Jezebel, too, the LORD declared, “The dogs shall devour Jezebel in the district of Jezreel.”) “When one of Ahab’s line dies in the city, dogs will devour him; when one of them dies in the field, the birds of the sky will devour him.” Indeed, no one gave himself up to the doing of evil in the sight of the LORD as did Ahab, urged on by his wife Jezebel. He became completely abominable by following idols, just as the Amorites had done, whom the LORD drove out before the children of Israel.

When Ahab heard these words, he tore his garments and put on sackcloth over his bare flesh. He fasted, slept in the sackcloth, and went about subdued. Then the LORD said to Elijah the Tishbite, “Have you seen that Ahab has humbled himself before me? Since he has humbled himself before me, I will not bring the evil in his time. I will bring the evil upon his house during the reign of his son.”

Responsorial Psalm

PS 51:3-4, 5-6AB, 11 AND 16

R./ Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness; in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense. Thoroughly wash me from my guilt and of my sin cleanse me. R./ Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

For I acknowledge my offense, and my sin is before me always: “Against you only have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight.” R./ Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Turn away your face from my sins, and blot out all my guilt. Free me from blood guilt, O God, my saving God; then my tongue shall revel in your justice. R./ Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Gospel

MT 5:43-48

Jesus said to his disciples: “You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

[ongolecharles]

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS (DSR) 📚 Group, Tue June 18th, 2024 ... Tuesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time, Year B

Reading 1

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1 Kgs 21:17-29

After the death of Naboth the LORD said to Elijah the Tishbite:

"Start down to meet Ahab, king of Israel,

who rules in Samaria.

He will be in the vineyard of Naboth,

of which he has come to take possession.

This is what you shall tell him,

'The LORD says: After murdering, do you also take possession?

For this, the LORD says:

In the place where the dogs licked up the blood of Naboth,

the dogs shall lick up your blood, too.'"

Ahab said to Elijah, "Have you found me out, my enemy?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Because you have given yourself up to doing evil in the LORD's sight,

I am bringing evil upon you: I will destroy you

and will cut off every male in Ahab's line,

whether slave or freeman, in Israel.

I will make your house like that of Jeroboam, son of Nebat,

and like that of Baasha, son of Ahijah,

because of how you have provoked me by leading Israel into sin."

(Against Jezebel, too, the LORD declared,

"The dogs shall devour Jezebel in the district of Jezreel.")

"When one of Ahab's line dies in the city,

dogs will devour him;

when one of them dies in the field,

the birds of the sky will devour him."

Indeed, no one gave himself up to the doing of evil

in the sight of the LORD as did Ahab,

urged on by his wife Jezebel.

He became completely abominable by following idols,

just as the Amorites had done,

whom the LORD drove out before the children of Israel.

When Ahab heard these words, he tore his garments

and put on sackcloth over his bare flesh.

He fasted, slept in the sackcloth, and went about subdued.

Then the LORD said to Elijah the Tishbite,

"Have you seen that Ahab has humbled himself before me?

Since he has humbled himself before me,

I will not bring the evil in his time.

I will bring the evil upon his house during the reign of his son."

Responsorial Psalm

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Ps 51:3-4, 5-6ab, 11 and 16

R. (see 3a) Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness;

in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense.

Thoroughly wash me from my guilt

and of my sin cleanse me.

R. Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

For I acknowledge my offense,

and my sin is before me always:

"Against you only have I sinned,

and done what is evil in your sight."

R. Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Turn away your face from my sins,

and blot out all my guilt.

Free me from blood guilt, O God, my saving God;

then my tongue shall revel in your justice.

R. Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.

Alleluia

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Jn 13:34

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

I give you a new commandment;

love one another as I have loved you.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

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Mt 5:43-48

Jesus said to his disciples:

"You have heard that it was said,

You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.

But I say to you, love your enemies

and pray for those who persecute you,

that you may be children of your heavenly Father,

for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good,

and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.

For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have?

Do not the tax collectors do the same?

And if you greet your brothers only,

what is unusual about that?

Do not the pagans do the same?

So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect."

***

FOCUS AND LITURGY OF THE WORD

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Matthew 5:48

Don’t we all want to be Perfect?  Maybe sometimes we think we’re pretty darned close.

But then … if our families took a vote on our perfection, I suspect none of us would make the mark. 

In today’s Gospel, is Jesus really asking us to be perfect?  I used to puzzle over this gospel until I heard a scholar say that the translation is what confuses us.  The original Greek word teleios could mean ‘perfect’ but more often means mature, complete or whole. He suggested that Jesus was telling us to be adult or fully formed in our relationship with God.

And Jesus offers a pathway for that wholeness in a connection with God.  It goes further than just obeying rules.  He asks us to love people beyond our friends and family. Jesus wants us to love those who may not love us – and even those we might privately enjoy not loving because of how they treat us.

The family member who drives us nuts?  Reach out to them.

The most annoying person at the office?  Make a special point of being kind.

Those who rail against our belief system, perceptions or the common interest. Embrace them anyway.

Can I love the person who supports causes or political candidates I don’t believe in?

We like to think of saints as, well, saintly and perfect.  But Thérèse of Lisieux famously prayed for a sister in her convent who drove her crazy.  She finally realized that “charity should show itself in deeds. So I set myself to do for this sister just what I should have done for someone I loved most dearly.”

Thérèse went out of her way to be kind and do things for this sister.  She said she was often tempted to be unpleasant to her but instead smiled and prayed for her.  That seems to me to be a great example of a mature love and relationship with God.  It is fully grounded in our being human – yet reaching beyond our own limits to ask God for help.

That is what Jesus offers us today: to go beyond our own limits and love our enemies.  Not to pretend we don’t have negative feelings for others, but to pray to God to help us to overcome them.

Pope Francis says the mystery of Christian life is loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us.  “The challenge of Christian life is asking the Lord for the grace to bless our enemies and to love them.” 

Francis also suggests that we can stop complaining!  “How many times do we complain about the things that we lack, about the things that go wrong! Jesus knows about all the things that don’t work. He knows that there is always going to be someone who dislikes us. Or someone who makes our life miserable. All he asks us to do is pray and love.”

Impossible?  On my own, yes.  But not if I recognize my own shortcomings and ask God for the strength, wisdom and maturity to overcome them as I deal with others.

Let's pray ...

Loving Jesus, help me to be more patient and less whining and complaining about those who push my buttons, those who disagree with me and those I judge as unkind or cruel.  Teach me to love them with an open heart as you do. Share with me your peace of heart.   

***

SAINT OF THE DAY

Venerable Matt Talbot

(May 2, 1856 – June 7, 1925)

Venerable Matt Talbot’s story

Matt can be considered the patron of men and women struggling with alcoholism. He was born in Dublin, where his father worked on the docks and had a difficult time supporting his family. After a few years of schooling, Matt obtained work as a messenger for some liquor merchants; there he began to drink excessively. For 15 years—until he was almost 30—Matt was an active alcoholic.

One day he decided to take “the pledge” for three months, make a general confession and begin to attend daily Mass. There is evidence that Matt’s first seven years after taking the pledge were especially difficult. Avoiding his former drinking places was hard. He began to pray as intensely as he used to drink. He also tried to pay back people from whom he had borrowed or stolen money while he was drinking.

Most of his life Matt worked as a builder’s laborer. He joined the Secular Franciscan Order and began a life of strict penance; he abstained from meat nine months a year. Matt spent hours every night avidly reading Scripture and the lives of the saints. He prayed the rosary conscientiously. Though his job did not make him rich, Matt contributed generously to the missions.

After 1923, Matt’s health failed, and he was forced to quit work. He died on his way to church on Trinity Sunday. Fifty years later, Pope Paul VI gave Matt Talbot the title venerable. His liturgical feast is celebrated on June 19.

Reflection

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In looking at the life of Matt Talbot, we may easily focus on the later years when he had stopped drinking for some time and was leading a penitential life. Only alcoholic men and women who have stopped drinking can fully appreciate how difficult the earliest years of sobriety were for Matt.

He had to take one day at a time. So do the rest of us.

Venerable Matt Talbot is the Patron Saint of:

Alcoholics

Recovery from Substance Abuse and Addictions

Sobriety

***

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[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

18th June >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Tuesday, Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time 

(Liturgical Colour: Green. Year: B(II))

First Reading 1 Kings 21:17-29 The punishment of Ahab and Jezebel foretold.

After the death of Naboth, the word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, ‘Up! Go down to meet Ahab king of Israel, in Samaria. You will find him in Naboth’s vineyard; he has gone down to take possession of it. You are to say this to him, “The Lord says this: You have committed murder; now you usurp as well. For this – and the Lord says this – in the place where the dogs licked the blood of Naboth, the dogs will lick your blood too.”’ Ahab said to Elijah, ‘So you have found me out, O my enemy!’ Elijah answered, ‘I have found you out. For your double dealing, and since you have done what is displeasing to the Lord, I will now bring disaster down on you; I will sweep away your descendants, and wipe out every male belonging to the family of Ahab, fettered or free in Israel. I will treat your House as I treated the House of Jeroboam son of Nebat and of Baasha son of Ahijah, for provoking my anger and leading Israel into sin. (Against Jezebel the Lord spoke these words: The dogs will eat Jezebel in the Field of Jezreel.) Those of Ahab’s family who die in the city, the dogs will eat; and those who die in the open country, the birds of the air will eat.’ And indeed there never was anyone like Ahab for double dealing and for doing what is displeasing to the Lord, urged on by Jezebel his wife. He behaved in the most abominable way, adhering to idols, just as the Amorites used to do whom the Lord had dispossessed for the sons of Israel. When Ahab heard these words, he tore his garments and put sackcloth next his skin and fasted; he slept in the sackcloth; he walked with slow steps. Then the word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, ‘Have you seen how Ahab has humbled himself before me? Since he has humbled himself before me, I will not bring the disaster in his days; I will bring the disaster down on his House in the days of his son.’

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 50(51):3-6,11,16

R/ Have mercy on us, Lord, for we have sinned.

Have mercy on me, God, in your kindness. In your compassion blot out my offence. O wash me more and more from my guilt and cleanse me from my sin.

R/ Have mercy on us, Lord, for we have sinned.

My offences truly I know them; my sin is always before me Against you, you alone, have I sinned; what is evil in your sight I have done.

R/ Have mercy on us, Lord, for we have sinned.

From my sins turn away your face and blot out all my guilt. O rescue me, God, my helper, and my tongue shall ring out your goodness.

R/ Have mercy on us, Lord, for we have sinned.

Gospel Acclamation 2 Corinthians 5:19

Alleluia, alleluia! God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, and he has entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. Alleluia!

Or: John 13:34

Alleluia, alleluia! I give you a new commandment: love one another just as I have loved you, says the Lord. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 5:43-48 Pray for those who persecute you.

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘You have learnt how it was said: You must love your neighbour and hate your enemy. But I say this to you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you; in this way you will be sons of your Father in heaven, for he causes his sun to rise on bad men as well as good, and his rain to fall on honest and dishonest men alike. For if you love those who love you, what right have you to claim any credit? Even the tax collectors do as much, do they not? And if you save your greetings for your brothers, are you doing anything exceptional? Even the pagans do as much, do they not? You must therefore be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[spiritplumber]

4am untitled story

A pair of door-to-door missionaries knock at the home of an old man. He says that he practices sacred hospitality, and not only welcomes them in but also offers them a meal, penne with delicious homemade pesto with basil from his own garden.

They ask him if he has considered welcoming Jesus. The old man tells them about a day like this, twenty years before, when a homeless Semitic guy with long matted hair, wrapped in a blanket and wearing mismatched beach sandals, came into his home. So, he offered him a meal, but also a shower and a spare pair of pants and overalls and socks. The man washed himself, put the clothes on, ate voraciously, thanked the man, and left. "Have I not already welcomed your Jesus?"

The missionaries answer that this man may have looked like Jesus, and praise the man's generosity, but then point out that all our good deeds are filthy rags before the Lord and welcoming Jesus means making Him the lord of our life. Christ is King.

The man shows the missionaries a framed naturalization certificate. He says that he came from an Eastern European dictatorship to the United States, applied for a professional visa, was granted it, and eventually became a citizen. "I came here to be a free citizen of a free republic. No kings, no generalissimos, no supreme leaders."

The missionaries compliment the old man on his English, finish the meal, and politely refuse a small glass of red wine. One of them asks the old man, what will you tell God at the Judgment? The man thinks about it. "Not much, being as I'll be dead. The dead don't have much to say. I'll probably listen."

The missionaries are getting ready to leave. They thank the old man for the meal. "We'll pray for you", the other missionary says to the man. The man smiles. "I appreciate that."

The missionaries return to their church. It's one of those very dodgy megachurches; an assistant pastor listens to their story about the nice old guy, and gets angry at them for not selling the religion hard enough. Niceness doesn't get butts in pews or bills in the collection plate.

A month or so later, the missionaries return to the old man's house. He's feeding homemade fries to a small murder of crows in his garden. He invites them in, and apologizes for not having food ready, unless they count the fries, and he personally just makes those for the birds.

Heeding the warning of their church superior, the missionaries try the hard sell. Surely the old man is old; surely he's worried about death; surely he doesn't want to go to Hell. The old man listens. He knows he's old; he's as worried about death as anyone else his age and general health; he's seen people who had been in Hell before, by which he means people in a political prison in his country of origin. He tells the missionaries of people in conditions almost as bad as rescued Auschwiz prisoners. "My mother took two of them in, instantly raising the suspicion of the secret police upon our family."

The old man raises his voice only when the missionaries insist that Hell is worse and that the old man is bound there if he doesn't convert. "You tell me that you come here to give me the good news of your God, and then you turn around and accuse Him of mass torture?"

A little taken aback by the sudden shift in tone, the crows stop eating. Rather than staring at the old man, they stare at the missionaries.

The missionaries are volunteer; they aren't really prepared for a philosophical discussion about theodicy. Instead, they pivot to the subject of heaven. The old man says that he is a free man in a free country, his sons are grown and happy, and he has earned enough for a house and a garden. A few times a year, he's still fit to go fishing or hunting. What does Heaven have to give him that he doesn't already have?

The missionaries reply that he could have a mansion, like their pastor does; a whole estate, like their pastor does; the warm comfort of being right with God, which both their pastor and they do. The old man asks about the pastor; like most megachurch pastors he's extremely rich, has written a number of books, runs a TV programme, and so on. The old man thinks for a moment. "I should like to listen to this pastor of yours." They tell him when the TV program is on. "No, no, in person. When is his next sermon?" They tell him, in two weeks; next week he is at a spiritual retreat. He asks if they would accept a gift for the pastor. It's worth about a thousand dollars. "Uh, sure" one of the missionaries says. The old man looks down, and carefully takes out his glass eye. "A gift from the secret police, before I crossed the ocean. And now a gift from me to him."

Confused by the gesture, but figuring that it has significance, the missionaries take the prosthesis. The old man doesn't hurry them out of the door, but doesn't seem to have much else to tell them. They watch him start peeling potatoes to make another batch of fries, make small talk, and even end up spending a few minutes helping him with the peeling as he hands them two knives.

When the missionaries report back, the glass eye is thoroughly washed and put in an envelope, just in case. The assistant pastor compliments them for having made an impression, briefly muses about whether the prosthetic contains a microphone or a camera -- it doesn't, it's simply a well-made piece of jewelry in a rubber casing -- and more or less forgets about the incident. If the church has made one more convert, excellent; people like the old man who mostly live frugally but afford themselves the occasional luxury tend to have very full bank accounts and, eventually, be very open to making donations.

Services at this megachurch are an elaborate affair, with music, singing, a homily delivered through a projector featuring videos and sometimes a powerpoint presentation. The head pastor is good looking in an impeccable custom-tailored suit. The two missionaries, sitting in a back pew, are a little sad that the old man didn't show up after all. One of them wonders to the other if they should give him a call, see if he's ill or indisposed, but the other notices that they never got any contact info out of him. They decide to go check on him at his home after the service.

The sky outside is grey, and it's drizzling. The church's speakers sometimes pick up a little bit of static when a lightning bolt comes down a few miles away. The pastor's homily is going well; he is energized and quickly establishes a rapport with his congregation. The sermon covered one of Paul's epistles; he's given it a couple times in the other two churches that he runs, and wont' reuse it. His tone is confident and his words well-rehearsed. At this point, assistants will begin passing out the collection plates; compared to donations in the form of checks and direct deposits it's nothing, but it's important for the look of the thing. Even when the power goes out, it's only for a half second -- the building has a backup diesel generator, so all anyone sees are the lights dimming for a moment and a momentary glitch on the projector screen.

A bolt of lightning comes down close enough to the church building that the thunderclap drowns the speakers for a moment. The front door of the church cracks open; it's the old man. His beard and long hair is unkempt from two weeks of not being washed. He smells of alcohol and fry oil and ozone. He's wearing traditional hunting garb, leather boots, and a worn brown blanket.

"The storm is upon us, and I can't make it home. I seek refuge." he says. His accent is much more noticeable than it was before.

The ushers quickly intercept him, assuming he's a homeless person, and curtly tell him to wait in the atrium. The two missionaries are relieved to see that the old man is well, but what's happened to him? Was he evicted?

The head pastor doesn't quite react to this; he's well into his script, it's the third and last time he has to give this sermon, and when he was told about the unusual gift from a prospective parishioner he mentally filed it under "weird guy, I'll talk to him when I have time." So, he continues his exhortation, maybe a little louder to avoid losing his audience. The ushers begin pushing the old man out. One of the missionaries stands up, to tell them that this man was expected, but the ushers have their own standing orders, and don't listen.

The ushers grab the old man. He pushes them off, revealing an outdoorsman's strength despite his age. They grab him again. Two stun guns crackle in the old man's hands, and he uses them on the ushers' shoulders, throwing them back. The old man strides forward and lets his cloak drop; he looks at the head pastor. A bright purple LED, stuck behind the old man's glasses on the missing-eye side, lights up and hits the head pastor right in the face, temporarily blinding him; the sermon stops, with the congregation staring in bewilderment. The old man throws a few fries on the ground, and with that, dozens, maybe a hundred of crows fly in from the open church door and flood the chamber. The old man says something in a Nordic language.

The head pastor is still disoriented by the laser light, but recovers his footing. "This is the house of the Lord! We're calling the police! Get out of here!"

The crows are pecking at anything edible or shiny in the room. Thunderclaps ominously come close to the building, and the open door makes them even more audible.

The old man points at the pastor. "Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be gods in disguise."

He then turns and leaves. Another usher tries to grab him, but is repelled with a stun gun zap. Even as the old man leaves, the crows continue their rampage. Two of the ushers have the presence of spirit to open the emergency exit, and people begin evacuating. The first ones out see the old man leave atop an ancient motorcycle.

The only serious injury from this strange display is to the head pastor himself -- one of the crows pecked his eye out.

When the police finally arrive to take a statement, they're skeptical. From the parishioners' accounts, it sounds like Odin himself dropped the spear on this particular church. The congregants speak of a demon, a terrorist, a Russian spy, all sort of confused accounts. The surveillance cameras show little more than a flash of purple light and a flurry of crow feathers.

The only two people with half an idea of what happened are the two missionaries; as soon as they are able, they get to the old man's house. Two crows are picking at hash browns in his little garden. He's wearing overalls, a little sweaty from a bit of gardening he was doing, but clean. He welcomes them in.

They ask him if it was him at the church. Instead of answering, he shows them something that he claims one of his nephews made for him -- a little LED light for his spare glass eye. Rather than purple and piercing, it's red and barely lights up, something that a clever kid with an electronics kit might have built. "It itches a little, but I'll wear it until I get a proper replacement made. Or at least until we can take a picture together."

The old man asks the missionaries what got them in such an agitation, and listens intently to their narration. He then tries to calm them down, and even offers to go to the police, if it'll help them not panic -- he went hunting with family, and only made it back earlier in the day, hence why his little garden needed extra tending. Of course he has some of the receipts from the trip; he's old-fashioned, prefers to not use cards, and wouldn't know where to start balancing his checkbook online.

"So, your pastor got his eye pecked out, eh? Given the circumstances, he may keep my prosthesis, then. Seems to me he needs it more than I. But I won't come calling at your church -- no offense, but a man who doesn't get along with animals is not a man I care to meet."

A day or so later, in a hospital bed in the best clinic money can buy, the megachurch pastor is staring out of his remaining eye. He drops the old man's glass eye in an empty glass. He has done this many times now. The glass eye falls into the glass, moves around a little, and then stops.

The sapphire pupil always stares at him.

[sunnysepulchre]

!! !! !! !! !! !! 🤪

Upenim of the Eolons, youngest daughter of Queen Yngvaldr of the matriarchal Eolon dynasty. Uses her mind magic for Evil (mind control magic+royalty = bad times). Marries a thrall without asking her mom, gets banished to an absolutely frozen wasteland castle where her family originated. Gets murdered by that thrall who comes down and overthrows the rest of her family. (547-568)

Quu of Kituras, second child of the duchess Sogolon Kituras. A serious, intelligent young man with a soft spot for his siblings. Easily teased. Is married to the younger prince, Sylvanis, and sent to aforementioned wasteland, which is all that is left to Sylvanis' line by this point. Works incredibly hard to modernize and repair said wasteland. (655-712)

Xenia Jevreti (600-638) Saw her home get conquered when she was younger, and became determined to fight back and free her lands. She failed, unfortunately.

Gustaw Nutautas (640-695) Autistic king, historian, constantly harassing his cousin, the duchess of his country, with new information he's learned. His wife does the actual running of their county which frees him up for his hobbies (harassing his cousin with new info)

Ilo Eriskuumaal (550-599) Son of the duchess who helped put the thrall from #1 on the throne. He marries a lady in his mother's country at her behest and enjoys caring for his birds.

Fronika Escain (663-718) Incredibly smart young woman from a region known as The Purplewood. She is her aunt's heir, and is talented in light magic, but doesn't particularly feel she's ready to rule. One of her first acts is creating a memorial for a tragedy that happened when she was ten.

These are all from my fantasyverse, Triel!

[knight-of-the-graces]

Hello there! I’m back with More Thoughts, this time on Book Two, since… some people liked the first one, apparently?

Anyway. I’m bullet-pointing it this time. And also it’s definitely more rambly, because I have a migraine and don’t feel like cleaning it up.

Again I say, the phrase “Odysseus’ well-beloved son” is causing me emotional damage. Like, we barely know anything about Odysseus yet, but we know he loves his boy. I don’t know if that’s everyone’s interpretation of the phrase, but I think it’s adorable so that’s mine.

Got another ‘looking like a god’ here, nice.

…do all the men have long hair??? Is that what’s being implied here? If so, fair enough.

THEY HAVE AN OFFICIAL TALKING STICK? WHAT. WHY DO I LOVE THAT.

Telemachus crying in the middle of a meeting. He’s just a sad lad who wants his dad and home back, please. Be nice to him.

ANTINOUS I WILL THROW HANDS WITH YOU. THE BOY IS SAD YOU JERK.

And Penelope was betrayed? They know about her schemes?

“Out of my house! Stop eating all my food!” Me to guests the moment they arrive. Telemachus and Penelope have such patience for not attempting to massacre the suitors yet-- three years of constant loud, partying houseguests would have gotten them murdered far earlier, within like three minutes of arrival.

“You will die here and nobody will care!” — my boy. Lad. I mean, you aren’t wrong, but still, what a thing to say at a public meeting.

Zeus literally just went “Sounds fun” and decided to gouge their eyes out with eagles. …at least he’s kind of on Telemachus’ side here? That’s… better than the alternative. I think.

Halitheres points at the eagles ~obviously from Zeus~ and goes “Bad Things Are Coming!” and Eurymachus goes “Just birds, shut up old man.” …do eagles usually rip people’s faces off in Ithaca??? Is this normal to you people???

Telemachus: “Shut up I’m going to see if I can find my dad. Don’t mess with my mom while I’m going.”

“Kings should always be cruel” UH WHAT MENTOR. (Ohhhh he was being metaphorical— still a funny quote, though!)

Leocrites: “Even if Odysseus came back we’d kill him.” (Odysseus, favoured warrior of Athena, a few books later: Wanna bet?)

Telemachus: “Athena the suitors are being mean.” Athena: “They’re stupid and you’re smart. They don’t stand a chance.”

Antinous: “Hey come drink with us!” Telemachus: “With the guys trying to marry my mom and stealing all my inheritance? Uh, no thank you. Also didn’t I kick you out. Like five minutes ago. Please leave. Immediately."

THE WINE IS GODLIKE NOW?

Eurycleia: “Don’t go, you’ll die like your father did!” Telemachus: “It’s a god’s plan, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Eurycleia, who definitely knew that Odysseus was blessed by Athena: why would that convince me this is a good idea

Telemachus: “Don’t tell my mom where I’m going until she notices I’m gone or it’s been twelve days. She’ll cry.” You don’t expect her to notice immediately??? You live in the same house! Also you don’t expect her to immediately think the worst and that the suitors got fed up and killed you? This is not a solid plan!

…how many favours is Athena calling in for this family? What do you have over Zephyr, the west wind? But I mean she wants this family to succeed so by herself she’s going to make sure they do, so... more power to you, Athena?

Also. First wine-dark sea. I guess I’m keeping track of that now, too? Fair enough, I guess, I’m keeping track of a bunch of other stuff.

I have a migraine. I'm going to read more, and continue with my findings.

I’m reading through The Odyssey properly for the first time since we read it in school, and I have… some thoughts. A lot of thoughts, actually. Here they are.

Firstly, Athena. Just… Athena. What are you up to.

The fact that she —disguised as Mentes but obviously knowing who Telemachus is— immediately comments on how tall Telemachus is after questioning if he’s really Odysseus’ son…

Odysseus really is a short man, isn’t he. Even his patron goddess is making fun of him for it. Disguised, but still. Do you think Mentes ever has to pay for the comments Athena makes while pretending to be him?

(Plus Telemachus immediately gets philosophical in his own defense, which… excellent. Excellent. Good job.)

Also Athena’s solution to all of Telemachus’ problems is literally just “Hey, why don’t you take a ship and go find your dad? He’ll murder all these guys for you, trust me, I know the guy. From, uh, childhood.” And Telemachus is like “Hm… okay, I’ll think about it.” Definitely living up to ‘goddess of war’, aren’t you?

And when she leaves, she just… turns into a bird and off she goes. Athena. What. You are in a crowded hall full of people. How is Telemachus the only one who noticed this. Divine magic and the power of alcohol, probably, but… what.

(Also why is everyone except the goddess being referred to as ‘godlike’? Like, we’ve got Nestor, then Telemachus, now Penelope. Seriously, how many of them were ‘godlike’, except for the goddess herself?)

Also Telemachus is definitely being a bit of a broody teenager. Like, come on, if a song is making your mom sad you just change the song. I get that you’re the man of the house, but still. If my brother said something like that to my mom she might actually kill him. And she’s not the formerly Spartan queen of Ithaca.

(And now the bard is godlike too. What is up with you guys, describing people as godlike. Are you trying to offend the actual Greek gods, ’cause we all know how that’ll end for you. You were literally talking about how offending the gods goes like, ten minutes ago. Why are you all like this.)

Then when he’s basically saying ‘get out of my house’ Antinous tells him “Zeus will never give you the throne” and Telemachus’ response is basically “Yes he will”. Boy… I mean kinda, but wow.

Also, Eurymachus, you do not get to call someone ‘friend’ when you’re trying to marry his mom, living in his house against his will, and basically stealing his stuff. Excuse me. What. And if you were paying enough attention to notice ‘Mentes’ how didn’t you notice the whole ‘turns into a bird and flies off’ thing?

The sheer audacity of literally everyone I’ve met so far is definitely something. I’m remembering why this book killed me to read in school now, with the sheer Audacity and Chaos so far.

And Telemachus is immediately called ‘Odysseus’ well-beloved son’ in book two— all I can think of is him introducing himself to people as ‘father of dear Telemachus’ in The Iliad—

(Also don’t try to read The Odyssey through online libraries; the formatting is so messed up it’s actually painful. Alas, I will suffer.)

[novemberthecatadmirer]

Wait how is each and every person with unrequited love in Silmarillion got sort of bad/horrible end

Indis:

Loved a married man

The man she loved actually chose her after death of his wife

Should be a good thing but the man married because he wanted children

However the man still loved his first child the most

Hated by her step son

The man moved out to live with her step son who was exiled because of threatening her own son with a sword

The man chose to stay dead forever so his first wife would live again

Many of her children followed her step son to colonize a new land

Most of people in her home and her city went with her step son

She’s left with a nearly empty home and a nearly empty city

Most of her children died one by one

Arguably still got the best end compared to other people with unrequited love

(I am actually Indis/Miriel shipper so I am a little bit biased and I don’t personally headcanon her loving Finwe a lot but that’s my ooc take

Daeron:

Betrayed the girl he loved (out of concern for her safety)

Ended up causing her going to Angband anyway

Tried to find her and failed

She turned mortal

Too ashamed to go back home ever again

Then the king was murdered in his own home

Then the girl died because mortal

Then his home got destroyed

Possibly wandering the land forever (Maglor ending)

Finduilas:

Father and ex died because of trusting the man she loved

Home destroyed because of the bridge built by the man she loved

Got taken away to Angband while the man she loved was just standing there idly doing nothing

(Did she know Turin was charmed or she assumed she was betrayed?)

Got pinned to a tree

Arguably preferable than being brought to Angband?

Maeglin

Actually got snatched up and brought to Angband

Unrequited Love being the weak spot that got exploited

Cracked

Betrayed everyone, had his home destroyed

Possibly was nearly stabbed by the girl he loved (I think I remember somewhere Idril armed herself and got a sword)

Bitten by the cute child of the girl he loved (Good job Earendil!

Got tossed over the wall by the husband of the girl he loved (this is why you do not mess up with the child of characters related to swan the giant overprotective murder bird

Of course history would not be kind to him

Celebrimbor (lost tale version):

Hoped to make something to preserve the beauty of the world for the girl he loved

Became bestie (lover?) with handsome Maia and made rings

Turned out the handsome Maia was evil Evil

City destroyed

Got tortured and died after betraying 16 rings

Turned into a banner

The beautiful world he knew was burnt down and nearly destroyed in the war of the last alliance

At least the girl he loved wore one of his rings, silver lining

—————

WTF is wrong with Tolkien. (Affectionately)

Every character with unrequited love somehow got involved with destruction of their home and their city

3/5 got tortured and died horribly

The later they appeared in the story the worse their fate was