#slaying amongs her books

[inkclover]

E.G.O. of an Angel(a)📚🪶

*spins around and then trips over me feet*

[artinandwritin]

live footage of mona plotting out niv's story:

[adarkrainbow]

Names in fairytales: Prince Charming

Prince Charming has become the iconic, “canon” name of the stock character of the brave, handsome prince who delivers the princess and marries her at the end of every tale.

But... where does this name comes from? You can’t find it in any of Perrault’s tales, nor in any of the Grimms’, nor in Andersen - in none of the big, famous fairytales of today. Sure, princes are often described as “charming”, as an adjective in those tales, but is it enough to suddenly create a stock name on its own?

No, of course it is not. The name “Prince Charming” has a history, and it comes, as many things in fairy tales, from the French literary fairytales. But not from Perrault, no, Perrault kept his princes unnamed: it comes from madame d’Aulnoy.

You see, madame d’Aulnoy, due to literaly helping create the fairytale genre in French literature, created a trend that would be followed by all after her: unlike Perrault who kept a lot of his characters unnamed, madame d’Aulnoy named almost each and every of her characters. But she didn’t just randomly name them: she named them after significant words. Either they were given actual words and adjectives as name, such as “Duchess Grumpy”, “Princess Shining”, “Princess Graceful”, “Prince Angry”, “King Cute”, “Prince Small-Sun”, etc etc... Either they were given names with a hidden meaning in them (such as “Carabosse”, the name of a wicked fairy which is actually a pun on Greek words, or “Galifron”, the name of a giant which also contains puns of old French verbs). So she started this all habit of having fairytale characters named after specific qualities, flaws or traits - and among her characters you find, in the fairytale “L’oiseau bleu”, “The blue bird”, “King Charming” (Roi Charmant). Not prince, here king, though he still acts as a typical prince charming would act - and “Charming” is indeed his name. 

And this character of “King Charming” actually went on to create the name we know today as “Prince Charming”. It should be noted that, while a lot of d’Aulnoy’s fairytales ended up forgotten by popular culture, some of her stories stayed MASSIVELY famous throughout the centuries and reached almost ever-lasting fame in countries other than France: The doe in the woods, The white cat, Cunning Cinders... and the Blue Bird, which stays probably the most famous fairytale of madame d’Aulnoy ever. It even was included in Andrew Lang’s Green Fairy Book.

And speaking of Andrew Lang, he is actually the next step in the history of “Prince Charming”. He translated another fairytale of madame d’Aulnoy prior to Blue Bird. In Lang’s “Blue Fairy Book”, you will find a tale called “The story of pretty Goldilocks”. This is a VERY bad title-translation of madame d’Aulnoy “La Belle aux Cheveux d’Or”, “The Beauty with Golden Hair”. And in it the main hero - who isn’t a prince, merely the faithful servant to a king - is named “Avenant”, which is a now old-fashioned word meaning “a pleasing, gracious, lovely person - someone who charms with their good looks and their grace”. When Andrew Lang translated the name in English, he decided to use “Charming”. At the end of the tale, the hero ends up marrying the Beauty with Golden Hair, who is a queen, so he also becomes “King Charming” - but the fact Avenant is a courtly hero who does several great deeds and monster-slaying for the Beauty with Golden Hair, a single beautiful queen, all for wedding reasons, ended up having him be assimilated with a “prince” in people’s mind.

And all in all, this “doubling” of a fairytale tale hero named “Charming” in Andrew Lang’s fairytales led to the colloquial term “Prince Charming” slowly appearing...

Though what is quite funny is the difference between the English language and the French one. Because in the English language, “Prince Charming” is bound to be a proper, first name - due to the position of the words. It isn’t “a charming prince”, but “prince Charming” - and again, it is an heritage of madame d’Aulnoy’s habit of naming her characters after adjectives. But in French, “Prince Charming” and “a charming prince” are basically one and the same, since adjectives are placed after the names, and not the reverse. So sometimes we write “Prince Charmant” as a name, but other times we just write “prince charmant”, as “charming prince” - and this allows for a wordplay on the double meaning of the stock name. 

[muffinsin]

think we could get some headcanons for daniela being a lesbian with comphet? it’s one of my favourite headcanons for her, and i’m interested to see how you’d portray it

Awhh, that’s a cool prompt! I hope I can do it justice👀!

Let’s get into it :)

Masterlists

Growing up with a lesbian mother and around women only, Daniela isn’t clueless about different kinds of sexualities

She’s always been encouraged to be herself, to take what she wants, to embrace who she is

She’s always been supported and always got to explore

That being said, she found out about her attraction to women quickly

Lucky, in a castle full of women, really

And she found love, often, in the many centuries she’s lived in the large castle

Having had countless partners in her life, she sometimes can’t quite shake off a certain feeling, though

Not always, only sometimes

Only when she’s alone, when the feeling can creep up on her

Like, she has to be missing something

She doesn’t fully understand

It’s not quite like in her books, which she loves to read so dearly

Of the Prince and the Princess, the castles and gardens and balls and gowns and flowers, of dances and joy and desire

And love and marriage, children

She yearns for love

It’s been so very long since she’s been with someone…

Despite being rather confident in her sexuality, there are certain- times…

Years- centuries even- of reading and getting lost in her favorite fairytale-like books have her feel…odd

Like something is wrong

Missing

The nasty feeling sometimes creeps up just after reading, her mind full of the scenes in the book, princes and princesses, happy together

She didn’t think she’d be attracted to men. No, no..!

It just, sometimes, feels like something she’s simply supposed to feel

Her fairytale prince, sweeping her off her feet

Romancing her, marrying her

It just feels like something that she has to do

Something she’s supposed to do

She’s so confused, spending restless minutes throughout the day and restless nights alone in her room, contemplating how she feels towards man-things

Sometimes, she almost feels attracted to the fictional men in the books

So loving, so caring, such princes

Only do these feelings not transfer to real men

She doesn’t want to be with them

But- is she not meant to? Is this not her happiness?

But..men? No, she can’t. She doesn’t want to

When looking at them, she doesn’t find them attractive, often even objectively

When one occasionally finds his way into the castle, she doesn’t originally find him attractive, any of them

At least, not from the start

Not until she hears whispers among the staff, features pointed out, attractive traits made apparent

Then, she almost feels like she sees them the same way

Poor Daniela and her delusions, so confused about life

Poor Daniela just doesn’t understand;

She throws herself at each intruder, even the men, imagining a happy life, marriage, kids-

despite being unable to have them

- just like in her books

Yet…she doesn’t want a relationship with one

Almost like she’s in love with the thought of one

The thought of happiness…

She finds herself pulling back when they pay attention to her though, slaying them fast before her own thoughts and insecurities can overwhelm her

She doesn’t like them

And despite her odd occasional fantasies, the reality is utterly undesirable, no matter how often she attempts to force herself into the standards set by the books

Then, suddenly guilt and insecurity washes over her

Times when she’d lay whimpering in one of her older sisters’ beds, her back rubbed and stroked, her hair played with as tears fall from her eyes

They can’t help, but they can hold and comfort her as she cries, they can tell them of their lives and loves

They reassure her, she’s still young. She rolls her eyes

She’s hardly the young woman they make her out to be. Still, the delusional woman will forever be their baby sister, it seems

Somehow, it’s comforting. After all, time could help her

She just doesn’t understand…!

Why is she like this?

What’s wrong?

Is she not into women only? She doesn’t understand, and Bela and Cassandra and Mother just can’t help

She’s a lesbian, she’s so sure

She doesn’t want a relationship with a man. She wants a woman. Her love. Her touch

She shivers uncomfortably when a man-thing attempts to convince her to offer her the same

But those odd occasional thoughts…

Aren’t the books her way to find happiness?

Everyone is so very happy in them

And they lived happily ever after, in each of them

When she’s with her lover, all is good

She loves them, always, so dearly

And the women always make her feel so loved in return

Alas, it never lasts

Somehow, fate always finds a way to take them from Daniela, at times even being particularly cruel and causing poor Daniela to kill them unintentionally, even

She doesn’t understand

Maybe she won’t

Maybe time will cure her strange thoughts, she wonders

Maybe she will find a lover that won’t leave her

A partner

A wife

[katerinaaqu]

Odysseus: Monster or Man? (a small analysis based on a description at 22nd Rhapsody/Book of Odyssey)

The homeric hero, Odysseus definitely has sparked much controversy ever since his first inrtoduction by Hmeric poems in 8th century BC. Many writers after Homer portrayed him a hero others portrayed him as anti-hero and many as a monster; someone who wouldn't stop at anything to achieve his goals, someone who didn't care to be the monster...to perform monsterous acts. However was that the original goal of Homer when he wrote his protagonist? Was it really the relentless killer that we often perceive from post-homeric till modern adaptations?

I believe the answer is partially given to us by a small portion of the poem itself. In the 22nd Rhapsody, the scene that follows after the brutal murder of the suitors, Euryclea is called to the hall and this is how she finds Odysseus:

"And then she found Odysseus among the slain corpses, showered in blood and covered in gore like a lion, who comes after he had easily eaten the oxen that dwell outside at the fields; for his chest and both his cheeks were covered in blood, and he seemed terrifying to look at. Thus was Odysseus covered (here: in blood) even feet and hands above"

(Translation by me)

As one can see his description is absolutely speaking as "monster" as it can, given that even the comparison with a lion seems to be adding to that beastly appearance. Odysseus is standing tall among the dead bodies, covered in blood and gore, terrifying to look at. One can say he feels like home among the slain! He doesn't seel to care. Someone could say that this is the proof that he has no feelings of compassion at all. That he doesn't care he has just slain over 100 men so young and full of life. However, in my opinion the next passage shows exactly how much Odysseus values life despite the violence of the scene before;

"However when she saw the dead and perceived the unspeakable blood, she immediately wished to cry out of joy, once she saw this great deed. However Odysseus held her back, stopping all her eagerness and to her he spoke with winged words: in your heart, old woman, rejoice and hold yourself and do not cry out in joy: because it is unholy to wish to kill/slay people. These here the gods have overpowered for their evil deeds because they didn't care (lit: didn't honor) for any person upon this earth; good or bad that came among them (here: asking for help/mercy). And so because of their wickedness they befell in this dishonorable death"

(Translation by me)

Despite the fact we have had a total mayhem in the hall before (and quite frankly we have even more to come for he yet is to punish the slaves that betrayed him and his family) in here we see his other side; He doesn't take pleasure in killing. Even if he considers this justice (thus he said "the gods have striken here") and even if he doesn't seem to regret his actions per se, he doesn't take pleasure from it and he advises his old nurse not to cry out in joy.

He knows the deed is not happy; it is sad. He has more or less severed an entire generation of charismatic and very young men who had started to live their lives; men that were not much older than his son at that point. He also probably already knows there are consequences for that as well given that all of them have been lords and princes at their own accord. Odysseus had spent his previous days as humble as a beggar; testing their fortidude and heart. He had asked for mercy to see if they would help. He advised them to change their ways he even half-begs Melantho to change her own ways so he wouldn't have to kill them

When they did not heed his advice, mistreating him for his old appearance and ragged clothes; showing no mercy and daresay discriminating against him because he had the form of an old beggar in their eyes, led Odysseus know he had no choice according to the laws of the gods. And these men had conspired to kill his son on his way back as well. He never wished to performed that crime if he could avoid it. But at the end he knew he didn't by Athena's orders.

Conclusions:

Odysseus knew he had performed a mass murder (thus requesting to cleanse himself and the palace from the crime afterwards). Of course that is to be said he was not unwilling to perform the task. We do not mean to think that Odysseus was the classic goodie guy who would be begging the gods not to do the deed. He was above all a survivor of million tragedies and a war veteran (daresay a war criminal at that point). He was not unfamiliar to violence nor someone unwilling to perform it if needed

However it seems to me clear as day that he is not the type to seek violence where he can avoid it and he was always trying to be as just as possible, thus testing the people at his halls, asking them or warning them to leave. The fact that he was not unfamiliar to violence shows exactly why he didn't wish to perform it without thought.

Even after a monstrous act such as the mass murder of 108 people, the afterwards execution of 12 and the mutilation of yet another one, Homer is telling us that Odysseus was never supposed to be a monster that occasionally does human acts but a human that occasionally had to by the circumstances perform monstrous acts and also fully aware that they are wrong. Odysseus didn't claim death and wishing death is honorable. He says the opposite. Exactly because he knows first hand that it isn't.

[cascanora]

Been really into Witcher lately, playing TW3 and reading the books! I love putting Crow and Zenos into AUs I enjoy, so for this one he's a witcher and she's a sorceress.

(Crow) Vorona aep Thordain — Headmistress of Vicovaro's medical academy and famed sorceress, she holds a highly respected seat among the advisors of Nilfgaardian emperor Jan Calveit.

She is a woman of fearsome prowess of both magical and political persuasion, but she is not so stern and stiff as her contemporaries believe. She enjoys many lovers over the course of her current tenure, granting her favor upon eye-pleasing graduates of the academy and professors, a myriad of lords and even the emperor himself. None, however, would remember the time they spent with her, having their memories stripped when she is finished with them. The only exceptions to this stringent habit, apart from emperor Jan Calveit, and a certain Vatt'ghern — 'witcher' in Nilfgaardian.

She holds a great many deal of interest and agents across the continent, even in the far north above the winding channels of the Yaruga river where the barbarous Nordlings live. She's well-versed and a veritable master in the following arts: Herbalism, Alchemy, Curses. Her life's greatest pursuit, however, is the perfection of necromancy. Her most beloved fetish is the polished, rune-carved skull of her once drunken, heavy-handed father, the former Edler of Liddertal, Sierben Thordain.

(Zenos) Zenos of Amell, though mostly known as Vaerminker; meaning mutilator/dismemberer in Nilfgaardian tongue, an itinerant witcher who wanders from village to village in the south within the Nilfgaardian empire in search of monsters to slay and coins to collect. Unlike some of his kind, he minds not whether his blade points at monster or men so long as he is well-compensated for a target slain.

He is feared and reviled by the small folks of the realm, though his handsome and fair visage attracts a lion's share of feminine interest. His salacious conquests includes buxom village maids and highborn courtiers. His lustful inclinations, though rapacious, is still selective, preferring comely, dark-haired women. In spite of his infamy, he experiences no shortage of work owing to his skill and moral flexibility.

[lunastrophe]

Hi there! I just saw that recent ask about reviewing and mentioning drow OCs, and I got intrigued about a subject I included in my OC's backstory that I'd love to hear from you about.

So I actually found your blog through my posts about Kazimir, my drow ranger. And probably one of the most interesting things I was able to include in his story is him being born between 1361DR and 1372DR. During which, according to the Daughter of the Drow book (which I haven't read I stumbled upon this lore on accident), Lolth declared a halt on drow sacrifices.

Kaz was a third born son and his mom was pissed that she had him right after having two elder sons, during a time she couldn't just kill him and be done. So she leaves him in a cave and forgets him. Long story short, he gets picked up by an adventuring party and raised on the surface.

I was curious if you had any thoughts about this weird peaceful period that Lolth instated but is never really talked about? What do you think would happen if it came out that he survived and word of him got out in Lolthite society?

Thank you, and no pressure to answer!!

Hello 😊 I absolutely love your idea for your OC's backstory! Lolth's peace was an interesting period in the history of Menzoberranzan - noble drow houses were forced to refrain from attacking each other and even customary sacrifices were halted, so that the city could recover from recent losses:

"...there is to be no more war in Menzoberranzan. The city must be restored. No priestess shall slay another, and all healthy drow children must be reared, even the males. Until Lloth directs otherwise, the Ruling Council will enforce these new laws." (E. Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow)

Still, all the Menzoberranyr drow knew that Lolth's peace was only temporary - and that it was going to be lifted at some point. Many were likely spending these years on preparations, carefully planning their future moves.

🕷️ Lolth's Peace and Third Sons' Fate - by Lolth's decree, until the end of peace it was forbidden to kill healthy drow children, and even third sons were to be reared.

I can imagine that some drow females were confused or even reluctant to accept this new law, though - and Kaz's mother could be among them.

Third sons were customarily promised to Lolth. This was an important sacrifice, one that was meant to confirm the female's loyalty and devotion to the Way of Lolth and to the goddess. Lolth's peace was temporarily changing the rules, but despite of that, some drow females were probably not exactly eager to keep their third sons.

🕷️ Still, I suppose that abandoning the third son (or any healthy drow child, really) during the Lolth's peace would count as acting against the goddess' wishes. Lolth's message was clear: healthy drow children were to be reared, so that the city could recover from losses.

I would not be surprised, then, if Kaz's mother lost Lolth's favour at some point because of her decision. Somehow, I doubt that Lolth would approve her "I am not killing him, but I am not keeping him either" attitude - not when the ultimate goal is to increase the city's population.

🕷️ The fact that Kaz survived might be perceived in Lolthite society as a sign that Lolth wanted him to survive. It might be also perceived as a proof that his mother was acting against Lolth's wishes when she decided to abandon him.

Should Kaz - for example - play later a role in the fall of his mother's house or in her demise, Lolthite drow would probably be like: "well, seems like abandoning her son during Lolth's peace backfired on her!"

They would not eagerly accept him in their society, for sure, since he was raised by surfacers.

Although I imagine that at least some of them might think that since his mother broke Lolth's law by abandoned him, he should be given an opportunity to prove himself and join Lolthite society (should he wish to go back to the roots, so to speak, for whatever reason).

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

My thoughts on The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie

I don’t know if I liked it as much as the original films (maybe Mockingjay 1 & 2 as they are pretty emotionally draining), but I still enjoyed it.

I think where it fell a little flat for me is 1. The beginning was a bit slow (tbh I only really started getting interested when Lucy Gray stuck that snake down that girl’s dress & even then I enjoyed the story more when the setting changed from the Capitol to the district) 2. I knew Snow would survive 3. I’d already been spoiled online for a lot of stuff that happens & 4. while I know the director did his best to make Snow as “likeable” as he could for as long as possible, even before he started getting “a little too comfortable” with killing & snitching I didn’t find him as sympathetic as Katniss or Peeta (but that is probably again down to the fact that I know what he goes onto do & there’s no real way around that), this made engaging with him difficult for me.

The world is fascinating. Getting to see all the new locations we never had access to before as well as old locations now in a totally different light (for example district 12 which, while still clearly suffering, seemed like such a bustling industrial town compared to how it is in Katniss’s time). It might have a much more retro aesthetic but there's also just a more vibrant, natural, wild & lawless atmosphere to this movie compared to the others in the franchise. The whole scope of the film just felt more cinematic then I remember the others being yet also weirdly intimate. Maybe because it was one contained story & we knew the main character’s fate from the start. I also loved the title cards signifying the start of each section of the story like from the books & wished they'd done something similar for the other films. It just added a certain flair to the whole thing. Almost gave it the vibe of a tragic play.

The costuming was great. The bright red of the academy uniforms.  Flickerman’s snazzy suits. Snow’s dapper black & white outfit. Both peace keeper uniforms (despite one of them giving very ‘1930’s Germany’ vibes) looked great. Grandma might have been a bigot, but at least she was well dressed. Everything Dr Gaul wore (except the top that looked like a used tampon, lol) was exquisite. The main ladies of fashion, Tigris & Lucy Gray slayed. Our Future Capitol stylist looked like some regal yet exotic bird & Miss Survivor was giving Bohemian, country girl realness the entire time she was on screen. Even the extras were serving (like that random couple Snow walked past on his way to the reaping ceremony).

The music was amazing. Every song that played was fantastic (shout out to Olivia for her end credit contribution). The lyrics & instrumentation were beautiful & my god does Rachel Zegler have pipes! Anyone who says the singing scenes are cringy is just stupid like I’m sorry you can’t appreciate art. Also, the words ‘ballad’ & ‘songbirds’ are literally in the title. Plus, Lucy Gray is from the poorest district, so what exactly do those people want her to do in her free time? She can’t exactly hop on an X-box for a few hours. Not too mention that (as the offspring of someone who’s musically inclined) I can tell you, it’s completely realistic for a musician to use their craft to help them deal with trauma & Lucy Gray clearly had more than her fair share of that.

The Grandma'am helped to paint a sadly very realistic background for Snow. As who among us hasn’t met at least one delusional old person who thinks that their/their group’s suffering (regardless of the severity of it or the reason behind their former/newer status in society) means that no one else are deserving of even the tiniest shred of humanity & there are some people who are unlucky enough to not only be related to these people but be raised by them.

Hunter schafer as Tigris is clearly the superior Snow when it comes to things like empathy & overall mental stability but I do kind of wish they’d been more for her to do. Credit where credit is due though her & Tom did actually look like they could be related & I did buy their familial bond (which makes her appearance in Mockingjay so much sadder in hindsight).

Peter Dinklage as Casca Highbottom was a bit of a mix for me just due to his purpose as a character & the limit of film as a form of media. Like sure the audience know that Snow’s going to become an irredeemable monster in the end but without a window into his mind it really does just seem like the Dean is just out to get him & even when we find out why it seems kind of unfair. Like sure his dad sucked but haven’t the Games shown that blaming children for violence caused by others is unjust (& like ok he hates Coriolanus & probably the grandma but Tigris hadn’t done anything to deserve living in poverty, as she can’t control who she’s related to)? Plus, it felt like he could have at least tried taking Snow under his wing at some point to try to hinder Dr Gual’s influence. Saying all of that, though, Peter Dinklage is great at playing an addict with depression & the idea that some drunken rambling could lead to such long-lasting suffering is terrifying. Also its pretty realistic that living with that kind of guilt & in such a cruel environment for that long would make most people jaded & bitter, even if they did have good intentions.

Omg we finally get a Mayor family on screen & they’re assholes! Madge would be so disappointed 😭. It was interesting to see how harsh & overall “boot licky” the mayor & his family seemed compared to decades later, which makes sense as the war wasn’t that long ago for them so the dad probably felt more incentive to align himself with the Capitol as well as not feeling very connected to the district people as 12’s decline probably didn’t fully set in until they really started running low on coal & Snow became president (oh I just know he wanted to blow that district off the map 😆). I also wouldn’t put it past Billy to come up with some sob story of how he really does love Mayfair but wicked Lucy Gray is somehow preventing them from being together. Still no excuse to try to send her to her death twice in one week, though. Definitely not a girl’s girl.

Ok, so a liar. Cheat. Drunk & someone who hits women. Is there anything good about Billy Taupe? Also, trying to get your ex back, while your current girlfriend is literally standing right next to you? Dude, have some god damn back bone! You made a choice, now stick to it. Also, fumbling Lucy Gray, for a girl like that? What’s it like having no brains or taste? Well, too bad, coz you’re stuck with her forever now, lol.

Viola Davies, the actress that you are. What else is there to say? Dr Gaul is almost comic book levels of insane. Like she is how the Right see women in STEM, on crack! I don’t know what she did to get into character, but whatever it was, it worked.

Jason Schwartzman as Lucretius Flickerman is a very interesting addition to the story despite playing such a small & seemingly insignificant role. He is strange in how unthreatening he is while also extremely blasé about the abhorrent violence he witnesses that it’s as funny as it is disturbing. Making him come across as  more human yet harsher than his son, who at least pretends to care about the tributes (in a very Capitol way, obviously but still). There’s also a polish & confidence to Tucci’s performance that I think Schwartzman did a great job of avoiding copying (despite knowing what audiences were probably expecting) because not only are their characters in entirely different stages of their careers but the whole ethos of the Hunger Games is different in Snow’s youth than it is in Katniss’s. Caesar is a well established presenter & during his time, the games have always been a success (minus the year with the tundra) that the entire Capitol is invested in & seemingly in support of. On the other hand Lucretius had the unique task of not only coming into a job like this with zero experience (I mean imagine going from announcing the weather to presenting the fucking hunger games) but also there were no vibes to try to emulate let alone guidelines to follow because he truly was the first person to do this. On top of that, the "event" his presenting has been panned for years as both boring & unethical. Schwartzman brought a slightly awkward, experimental, yet try hard vibe (like a comedian who's desperate to get a laugh) that I think worked wonderfully for the character.

Tom Blyth's performance was great & he was visually perfect for a young Snow (the power of a good wig! Who knew lol). Even having the cool, analytical stare of Donald Sutherland, down pat. While his appearance was very Eminem during his peacekeeping days, his realisation in the cabin and subsequent breakdown in the woods were crazy. There was so much tension between him & Rachel in that scene that for a second, it literally felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I could almost hear the record scratch for both of them, & all that building paranoia finally coming to a sudden crescendo in the way that it did? Pure cinema!

Josh Rivera, as Sejanus, was honestly a mix for me. Obviously, I agree with his morals, but his way of going about it did seem a little dumb. However I do think it’s pretty realistic that a teenager, especially a rich one, would be rather naive. Also I’ve heard that he’s smarter in the book & I think at times my frustration with him is more just down to the fact that I’m seeing him from Snow’s point of view. Meaning scenes that would be portrayed as noble in any other film instead come across as almost painfully inconvenient because the focus is always on how they affect Snow rather than the actual victims of the situation. Lastly, sorry, Snowjanus shippers, I just don’t see it (especially on Snow’s end), but whatever floats your boat.

Rachel Zegler played Lucy Gray with the perfect mix of natural charm & emotional vulnerability with clear pride in her culture & a refusal to let the world around her change who she is. Yet there was also an air of mystery & a subtle resilience to her that makes her potentially surviving out in the woods for years without being detected actually believable (though I don’t buy the theory that she went on to become president Coin). Definitely the highlight of the movie for me.

PS. I'd love to know what you think of my review in the comments/tags & am open to criticism (as long as it's respectful) just remember that I'm only talking about the movie so please don't reference anything spersific to the book.

[simps-every-tuesday]

After much trial and tribulation I finally finished a project I've been working on.

Meet some of my other Zora ocs

Urala [The Fierce Captain]

Age: 121

Race: Nurse Shark Zora

Home: Moontide Isles

Urala lost her mother at a very young age due to sickness. After her mother's passing, it was just her and her father. Her father was a fisherman, so she and him were tasked with fishing for the zora folk of the isles, but her mind was always elsewhere. She always had this longing to protect people, and every time she saw the zora guards that protected the isles and the royal family, Little Urala knew what she wanted her purpose to be. When she came of age, she enrolled to be part of the guard. The old captain was impressed by her ability to think quickly on the spot, so he personally took her under his wing. After many years of hard work, Urala became the new captain after the old captain retired, and her father couldn't be more proud.

Nava [The Wise Advisor]

Age: 122

Race: Common Octopus Zora

Home: Moontide Isles

Nava as a guppy always had a brain filled with solutions and wisdom. Her family are just common folk zoras on the Isles who tend to a library filled with books about many things. Because of that, she spent most of her life in that library reading and rereading books, and one day, as a teen, she managed to solve a conflict among the people with a quick and simple solution before the royal family could handle the matter impressed by this. King Arphin asked her how she would feel about helping and advising the family. Overjoyed by the request, she immediately accepted becoming the royal advisor at a very young age.

Adan [The Descendant]

Age: 120

Race: Lemon Shark Zora

Home: Moontide Isles

Adan is part of a long line of zora guards. His great-grandfather was famous for being the greatest monster slayer the Isles has ever seen since he was a child. Adan always had this spark in him to protect his people, so when he came of age, he enrolled around the same time as Urala for a position as a guard. He never wanted a special rank he just wanted to protect, but when it came to slaying monsters and battle, he was a natural, which caught the attention of the old zora captain, and he ranked him as the next captain's right hand, making Urala and Adan partners, and they became very close friends, and that's the position he's had since.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wrestling with the Bible's war stories

Spend any solid amount of time with scripture and you'll run into something that perplexes, disturbs, or downright horrifies you. Many of us have walked away from the Bible or from Christianity in general, sometimes temporarily and sometimes permanently, after encountering these stories. So how do we face them, wrestle them, and seek God's presence in (or in spite of) them?

In her book Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again, the late Rachel Held Evans spends a whole chapter on the "war stories" of Joshua, Judges, and the books of Samuel and Kings. She starts with how most teachers in her conservative Christian upbringing shut her down every time she tried to name the horror she felt reading of violence, rape, and ethnic cleansing; I share an excerpt from that part of the chapter over in this post.

That excerpt ends with Evans deciding that she needed to grapple with these stories, or lose her faith entirely.

...But then I ended the excerpt, with the hope that folks would go read all of Inspired for themselves — and I still very much recommend doing so! The whole book is incredibly helpful for relearning how to read scripture in a way that honors its historical context and divine inspiration, and takes seriously how misreadings bring harm to individuals and whole people groups.

But I know not everyone will read the book, for a variety of reasons, and that's okay. So I want to include a long excerpt from the rest of the chapter, where Evans provides cultural context and history that helps us understand why those war stories are in there; and then seeks to find where God's inspiration is among those "human fingerprints."

I know how important it was to Rachel Held Evans that all of us experience healing and liberation, so it is my hope that she'd be okay with me pasting such a huge chunk of the book for reading here. If you find what's in this post meaningful, please do check out the rest of her book! A lot of libraries have it in print, ebook, and/or audiobook form.

[One last comment: the following excerpt focuses on these war stories from the Hebrew scriptures ("Old Testament"), but there are violent and otherwise disturbing stories in the "New Testament" too, from Herod killing babies to all the wild things going on in Revelation. Don't fall for the antisemitic claim that "The Old Testament is violent while the New Testament is all about peace!" All parts of scripture include violent passages, and maintain an overarching theme of justice and love.]

Here's the excerpt showing Rachel's long wrestling with the Bible's war stories, starting with an explanation for why they're in there in the first place:

“By the time many of the Bible’s war stories were written down, several generations had passed, and Israel had evolved from a scrappy band of nomads living in the shadows of Babylon, Egypt, and Assyria to a nation that could hold its own, complete with a monarchy. Scripture embraces that underdog status in order to credit God with Israel’s success and to remind a new generation that “some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God” (Psalm 20:7). The story of David and Goliath, in which a shepherd boy takes down one of those legendary Canaanite giants with just a slingshot and two stones, epitomizes Israel’s self-understanding as a humble people improbably beloved, victorious only by the grace and favor of a God who rescued them from Egypt, walked with them through the desert, brought the walls of Jericho down, and made that shepherd boy a king. To reinforce the miraculous nature of Israel’s victories, the writers of Joshua and Judges describe forces of hundreds defeating armies of thousands with epic totality. These numbers are likely exaggerated and, in keeping literary conventions of the day, rely more on drama and bravado than the straightforward recitation of fact. Those of us troubled by language about the “extermination” of Canaanite populations may find some comfort in the fact that scholars and archaeologists doubt the early skirmishes of Israel’s history actually resulted in genocide.

It was common for warring tribes in ancient Mesopotamia to refer to decisive victories as “complete annihilation” or “total destruction,” even when their enemies lived to fight another day. (The Moabites, for example, claimed in an extrabiblical text that after their victory in a battle against an Israelite army, the nation of Israel “utterly perished for always,” which obviously isn’t the case. And even in Scripture itself, stories of conflicts with Canaanite tribes persist through the book of Judges and into Israel’s monarchy, which would suggest Joshua’s armies did not in fact wipe them from the face of the earth, at least not in a literal sense.)

Theologian Paul Copan called it “the language of conventional warfare rhetoric,” which “the knowing ancient Near Eastern reader recognized as hyperbole.” Pastor and author of The Skeletons in God’s Closet, Joshua Ryan Butler, dubbed it “ancient trash talk.”

Even Jericho, which twenty-first-century readers like to imagine as a colorful, bustling city with walls that reached the sky, was in actuality a small, six-acre military outpost, unlikely to support many civilians but, as was common, included a prostitute and her family. Most of the “cities” described in the book of Joshua were likely the same. So, like every culture before and after, Israel told its war stories with flourish, using the language and literary conventions that best advanced the agendas of storytellers.

As Peter Enns explained, for the biblical writers, “Writing about the past was never simply about understanding the past for its own sake, but about shaping, molding and creating the past to speak to the present.”

“The Bible looks the way it does,” he concluded, “because God lets his children tell the story.”

You see the children’s fingerprints all over the pages of Scripture, from its origin stories to its deliverance narratives to its tales of land, war, and monarchy.

For example, as the Bible moves from conquest to settlement, we encounter two markedly different accounts of the lives of Kings Saul, David, and Solomon and the friends and enemies who shaped their reigns. The first appears in 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings. These books include all the unflattering details of kingdom politics, including the account of how King David had a man killed so he could take the man’s wife, Bathsheba, for himself.

On the other hand, 1 and 2 Chronicles omit the story of David and Bathsheba altogether, along with much of the unseemly violence and drama around the transition of power between David and Solomon.

This is because Samuel and Kings were likely written during the Babylonian exile, when the people of Israel were struggling to understand what they had done wrong for God to allow their enemies to overtake them, and 1 and 2 Chronicles were composed much later, after the Jews had returned to the land, eager to pick up the pieces.

While the authors of Samuel and Kings viewed the monarchy as a morality tale to help them understand their present circumstances, the authors of the Chronicles recalled the monarchy with nostalgia, a reminder of their connection to God’s anointed as they sought healing and unity. As a result, you get two noticeably different takes on the very same historic events.

In other words, the authors of Scripture, like the authors of any other work (including this one!), wrote with agendas. They wrote for a specific audience from a specific religious, social, and political context, and thus made creative decisions based on that audience and context.

Of course, this raises some important questions, like: Can war stories be inspired? Can political propaganda be God-breathed? To what degree did the Spirit guide the preservation of these narratives, and is there something sacred to be uncovered beneath all these human fingerprints?

I don’t know the answers to all these questions, but I do know a few things.

The first is that not every character in these violent stories stuck with the script. After Jephthah sacrificed his daughter as a burnt offering in exchange for God’s aid in battle, the young women of Israel engaged in a public act of grief marking the injustice. The text reports, “From this comes the Israelite tradition that each year the young women of Israel go out for four days to commemorate the daughter of Jephthah” (Judges 11:39–40).

While the men moved on to fight another battle, the women stopped to acknowledge that something terrible had happened here, and with what little social and political power they had, they protested—every year for four days. They refused to let the nation forget what it had done in God’s name.

In another story, a woman named Rizpah, one of King Saul’s concubines, suffered the full force of the monarchy’s cruelty when King David agreed to hand over two of her sons to be hanged by the Gibeonites in an effort to settle a long, bloody dispute between the factions believed to be the cause of widespread famine across the land. A sort of biblical Antigone, Rizpah guarded her sons’ bodies from birds and wild beasts for weeks, until at last the rain came and they could be buried. Word of her tragic stand spread across the kingdom and inspired David to pause to grieve the violence his house had wrought (2 Samuel 21).” ...

The point is, if you pay attention to the women, a more complex history of Israel’s conquests emerges. Their stories invite the reader to consider the human cost of violence and patriarchy, and in that sense prove instructive to all who wish to work for a better world. ...

It’s not always clear what we are meant to learn from the Bible’s most troubling stories, but if we simply look away, we learn nothing.

In one of the most moving spiritual exercises of my adult faith, an artist friend and I created a liturgy of lament honoring the victims of the texts of terror. On a chilly December evening, we sat around the coffee table in my living room and lit candles in memory of Hagar, Jephthah’s daughter, the concubine from Judges 19, and Tamar, the daughter of King David who was raped by her half brother. We read their stories, along with poetry and reflections composed by modern-day women who have survived gender-based violence. ...

If the Bible’s texts of terror compel us to face with fresh horror and resolve the ongoing oppression and exploitation of women, then perhaps these stories do not trouble us in vain. Perhaps we can use them for some good.

The second thing I know is that we are not as different from the ancient Israelites as we would like to believe.

“It was a violent and tribal culture,” people like to say of ancient Israel to explain away its actions in Canaan. But, as Joshua Ryan Butler astutely observed, when it comes to civilian casualties, “we tend to hold the ancients to a much higher standard than we hold ourselves.” In the time it took me to write this chapter, nearly one thousand civilians were killed in airstrikes in Iraq and Syria, many of them women and children. The atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki took hundreds of thousands of lives in World War II, and far more civilians died in the Korean War and Vietnam War than American soldiers. Even though America is one of the wealthiest countries in the world, it takes in less than half of 1 percent of the world’s refugees, and drone warfare has left many thousands of families across the Middle East terrorized.

This is not to excuse Israel’s violence, because modern-day violence is also bad, nor is it to trivialize debates over just war theory and US involvement in various historical conflicts, which are complex issues far beyond the scope of this book. Rather, it ought to challenge us to engage the Bible’s war stories with a bit more humility and introspection, willing to channel some of our horror over atrocities past into questioning elements of the war machines that still roll on today.

Finally, the last thing I know is this: If the God of the Bible is true, and if God became flesh and blood in the person of Jesus Christ, and if Jesus Christ is—as theologian Greg Boyd put it—“the revelation that culminates and supersedes all others,” then God would rather die by violence than commit it.

The cross makes this plain. On the cross, Christ not only bore the brunt of human cruelty and bloodlust and fear, he remained faithful to the nonviolence he taught and modeled throughout his ministry. Boyd called it “the Crucifixion of the Warrior God,” and in a two-volume work by that name asserted that “on the cross, the diabolic violent warrior god we have all-too-frequently pledged allegiance to has been forever repudiated.” On the cross, Jesus chose to align himself with victims of suffering rather than the inflictors of it.

At the heart of the doctrine of the incarnation is the stunning claim that Jesus is what God is like. “No one has ever seen God,” declared John in his gospel, “but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known” (John 1:18, emphasis added). ...So to whatever extent God owes us an explanation for the Bible’s war stories, Jesus is that explanation. And Christ the King won his kingdom without war.

Jesus turned the war story on its head. Instead of being born to nobility, he was born in a manger, to an oppressed people in occupied territory. Instead of charging into Jerusalem on a warhorse, he arrived on a lumbering donkey. Instead of rallying troops for battle, he washed his disciples’ feet. According to the apostle Paul, these are the tales followers of Jesus should be telling—with our words, with our art, and with our lives.

Of course, this still leaves us to grapple with the competing biblical portraits of God as the instigator of violence and God as the repudiator of violence.

Boyd argued that God serves as a sort of “heavenly missionary” who temporarily accommodates the brutal practices and beliefs of various cultures without condoning them in order to gradually influence God’s people toward justice. Insofar as any divine portrait reflects a character at odds with the cross, he said, it must be considered accommodation. It’s an interesting theory, though I confess I’m only halfway through Boyd’s 1,492 pages, so I’ve yet to fully consider it. (I know I can’t read my way out of this dilemma, but that won’t keep me from trying.)

The truth is, I’ve yet to find an explanation for the Bible’s war stories that I find completely satisfying. If we view this through Occam’s razor and choose the simplest solution to the problem, we might conclude that the ancient Israelites invented a deity to justify their conquests and keep their people in line. As such, then, the Bible isn’t a holy book with human fingerprints; it’s an entirely human construction, responsible for more vice than virtue.

There are days when that’s what I believe, days when I mumble through the hymns and creeds at church because I’m not convinced they say anything true. And then there are days when the Bible pulls me back with a numinous force I can only regard as divine, days when Hagar and Deborah and Rahab reach out from the page, grab me by the face, and say, “Pay attention. This is for you.”

I’m in no rush to patch up these questions. God save me from the day when stories of violence, rape, and ethnic cleansing inspire within me anything other than revulsion. I don’t want to become a person who is unbothered by these texts, and if Jesus is who he says he is, then I don’t think he wants me to be either.

There are parts of the Bible that inspire, parts that perplex, and parts that leave you with an open wound. I’m still wrestling, and like Jacob, I will wrestle until I am blessed. God hasn’t let go of me yet.

War is a dreadful and storied part of the human experience, and Scripture captures many shades of it—from the chest-thumping of the victors to the anguished cries of victims. There is ammunition there for those seeking religious justification for violence, and solidarity for all the mothers like Rizpah who just want an end to it.

For those of us who prefer to keep the realities of war at a safe, sanitized distance, and who enjoy the luxury of that choice, the Bible’s war stories force a confrontation with the darkness.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

[aleksanderscult]

so. First of all I love your blog. Seriously I think you are one of the person who have comman sense in this fandom. I like everything you post. While scrolling through Tumblr I came across the usual anti darkling post ( he is groomer , murderer etc etc ) i did the thing I usually do when I came across such thing : I skip. A tag caught my eye. I don't remember but it's say something like : the only reason you like him is that he is Ben Barnes if darkling is a girl you couldn't like him. Which made me think what if darkling was a girl and alina as a boy. I just image a sexy hot black hair women with pale skin and grey eyes and morozova genes. Which..........is enough to made me think if I am a Bi 🤔. That image has not left me for a week and my dreams. So my question is

What do you think might happen if darkling is a girl and alina is a boy. How might the events of SaB and SaS will be affected. And m*lina too,of mal is a girl too. You thoughts 🤔

Thank you so much, anon! It makes me happy to know that others enjoy my blog and content. 😍

First of all about what that anti said: I personally didn't like Ben Barnes as the Darkling so it obviously doesn't apply. And even if the Darkling was a girl I would still root for her. I root for any character that fights for something better, for a positive change to happen among such oppression. And I think that's one of the major reasons his fans love him as well.

Now about your question: Boy, I would love to see that. I was always attracted to dangerous women, especially the ones that combine beauty and slyness (like Milady in "The Musketeers" or Morgana from "Merlin" post season 2).

But I don't think the story would be affected that much with the only exception that Alina in a male form would probably not be slut shamed for his attraction to the Darkling (in this version she would be called Aleksandra which is a fact that I love!)

The Darkling would remain an interesting character but, God, does that mean that Alina as a man would still avoid his duties?? 😭

And Mal as a girl. She would obviously be popular and well-liked by everyone but imagine that: she would sleep around with many guys and then attack her best friend for falling in love with a girl that isn't her. Well, for one thing it doesn't stick. You see if Mal as a girl fucked around then she would be called a whore (just like Alina was indirectly called one by Mal for wanting Aleksander) while in the original story when Mal did that no one raised a single eyebrow. So we live in a fictional world where if you do that as a guy then you're okay but if you're a girl then you should be called a prostitute. And Leigh had Mal get away with his behavior so she was more willing to let Mal pass with his sexist behavior than the Darkling who had enough and tried to put end to his people slaughter for good.

Anyway, I believe Mal's character would change a lot if he was a girl (primarily his fuckboy nature because the author doesn't allow a girl to have sexual liberation in her books) and I have a feeling she would be boring (again). And I don't think she would be a tracker?

Alina as a man wouldn't be slut shamed (because he's a man 🤷) but he would still avoid the Darkling. Nevertheless the chemistry would be off the charts. And the Darkling would slay like always. She would be the personification of femme fatale but her goal would be selfless and true like always. For some reason, I imagine her as a very seductive figure (although my wishful thinking might be speaking here).

The real question here is how the relationship between the Darkling as a girl and her mother, Baghra would be. Would Baghra want a daughter in the first place but she got stuck with Aleksandra because it was her only child that shared her powers? Or if Baghra had no problem with her child's sex, would she still be that possessive and controlling over her?

My own answer is yes and Baghra would most definitely leave a trauma to the Darkling even if she was a girl. That woman has no parenting skills in any universe. Just like I can't see the Darkling be anything else other than a fighter and a survivor in any other scenario.

[scotianostra]

On November 8th 1752, Seumas a’ Ghlinne / James of the Glen was hung at Cnap Chaolis Mhic Pharaig, near Ballachulish.

Seamus a’ Ghlinne mounted the gallows above the narrows at Ballaculish with the reproach of Psalm 35 for his persecutors:

"False witnesses rose; to my charge things I not knew they laid. They, to the spoiling of my soul, me ill for good repaid."

James of the Glen, or just James Stewart — had come there that day to die for the ambush murder of Colin Roy Campbell.

The victim was stock of Clan Campbell, one of the largest Highland clans and one whose loyalties to the Hanoverian kings were being richly rewarded. The Stewarts, who had backed the recent ill-fated Jacobite rebellion in favour of the exiled pretender Bonnie Prince Charlie, were in the opposite predicament.

Colin Campbell was said on that fatal May 14th to be en route to expel the Stewarts from the village of Duror so that Campbells could move in. But even Campbell’s everyday job of extracting resentful rents from estates repossessed from Jacobite sympathizers would have turned many a murderous eye his way.

Someone that day shot Colin Campbell in the back from wooded cover, then vanished, murderous eye and trigger finger and all, never to be never apprehended. So they got James Stewart to answer for it instead. This wasn’t a tragic case of well-intentioned police developing tunnel vision on the wrong suspect so much as repaying tit for tat in a family feud. The trial was held at the Campbells’ Inverary Castle. Its presiding judge was the Campbell alpha male, the Duke of Argyll. Eleven more Campbells sat on Stewart’s jury. But then, from the Campbells’ side, or London’s for that matter, what was to say that this one murder might not be the germ of a new rebellion if not ruthlessly answered?

Still, there was “not a shred of evidence,” says present-day Glasgow barrister John Macauley, “The whole thing from start to finish was a farce.”

James Stewart was, however, the foster father of a man who actually was suspected of firing the shot, Allan Breck Stewart, a former Jacobite soldier who had returned from exile in France to collect rents for the Stewarts. Known to have threatened the Campbells previously, Allan was also tried and condemned to death — but only in absentia, since he suspiciously fled to France immediately after the so-called Appin Murder.

Many years later, Robert Louis Stevenson would use this dramatic crime, and Al(l)an Breck’s flight to safety, in Kidnapped. “I swear upon the Holy Iron I had neither art nor part, act nor thought in it,” Stevenson’s Alan says to the fictional protagonist in the novel, just after both have witnessed the murder.

And in reality, Alan too is thought by those who know the case to be clear of guilt in the matter. The Stewart family reputedly knew all along which of their number was Campbell’s real killer, but refused to give him up and kept the family secret for generations. It’s even said that that man had to be forcibly held down on execution day to prevent him giving himself up.

To judge by the most recent research, that man was likely Donald Stewart, the son of Stewart of Ballachulish and the best shot among a group of several young hotheads who resolved together to slay the Campbells’ hated Factor. The conspiracy also goes as the reason — or at least excuse — for keeping Donald silent, since in giving himself up he might see all four of them to the gallows. The late Lee Holcombe makes a comprehensive case for Donald Stewart as the gunman in the 2004 book Ancient Animosity: The Appin Murder and the End of Scottish Rebellion; Donald Stewart was also fingered publicly in 2001 by a matriarch of the Stewarts of Appin, though others of her family have not publicly confirmed that that’s the secret name.

James Stewart’s decaying corpse remained gibbeted on the spot of his execution for 18 months as illustrated in the pic by the late Andrew Hillhouse, after, a rotting warning to the Stewarts or any late Jacobites. In 1754, a local man called “Daft Macphee” finally tore down the gallows and threw it into Loch Linnhe … but its former position overlooking the modern Ballachulish Bridge is still marked by a mossy stone monument to James of the Glen, “executed on this spot Nov. 8th 1752 for a crime of which he was not guilty.”

The image was commissioned as a book cover for “Grass Will Not Grow on My Grave” by Mary McGrigor. The image was also used on a descriptive panel at the site of James’ execution at Ballachulish. If you stop before the bridge (travelling north) and climb up the footpath where the bridge begins, you will see it.

For the full story on this infamous story check out the link here http://archaeol.wwwnlls6.a2hosted.com/.../James%20of...

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden…. 

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile 

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.  

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here 

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

     

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor)  or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.  

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.  

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.  

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.    

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.

[theealluringstoryteller]

Agaisnt The World Around Us

Chapter 5: The wedding

Clara snuggled her son relishing in the warmth his body gave as she read the words off the pages of the book she found in their small library in the village. Despite him being 13 she appreciated him still wanting to read to him and cuddle him when he wanted to spend time with her or in need of comfort. Castin silently followed along with his eyes, one almost swollen shut due to the fight he got into with boys much older than him. Clara hated how her sweet boy was treated among people in their village and she tried her best to make up for it by doing everything she could at home. “And then ‘swoosh’ Perseus swooped down on his flying horse towards Andromeda determined to save the chained princess from the sea monster ‘Cetus’ ”

She continued on with the story warmly smiling as Castin cuddled a bit more closer to her, drowned in the story escaping the day that he had.

“After the mighty Demi God slayed the horrid beast he took Princess Andromeda back to her father King Cepheus and asked for her hand in marriage-" “Ughhh!” Castin groaned loudly turning his head up the shift in the story. “Awe come on Cassie! All heroes deserve love-” “But he’s in his prime! He’s gonna throw it all away for some…chick!” Castin huffs crossing his arms over his chest suddenly uninterested in the tale. The young Castin grumbled to himself about how weak Perseus was. “What man would rather settle down instead of living a life full of honor!” Frowning Clara closed the book unhappy with her son’s thought process. “Who said it wasn’t honorable to be in love?” She questioned wanting to get down to the source of his disdain! “Only girls fall in love! It’s stupid and silly!” Castin went on. “It’s not manly at all!”

Appalled Clara scoffed “who told you all of this…horse shit?” She demanded snatching his chin and turning his face towards her. His eyes now softening he shrugs his shoulders feeling bad about getting his mother upset. “They say so! It’s not the Intacian way!”

Clara sighed mentally cursing those who put such an idea into her son’s head. “Cassie,honey, don’t believe to their bullshit! They are nothing but a bunch of miserable pathetic old men who are unhappy with their lives because they couldn’t manage to get a woman even of low standards to fall in love with their miserable asses!” Clara begins motioning Castin into her arms. Scooting back into his mother’s embrace Castin remained silent knowing that now it wasn’t the best time to cut in with his warped opinions. “Let me tell you my little love, you’re going to find a woman when you grow into a man and you’re gonna be so in love with her and her you because you deserve that! You’re by far better than those low life roaches who told you that it wasn’t manly to be in love-your father loved me very much!” She tells him hugging him closely. “And this woman you’re gonna find-she’s gonna be everything you’ve ever dreamed of-”

“Maaa! I don’t dream of girls!” Castin whined at the thought. “Oh please don’t lie to your mother! I wash your clothes!”

“Ma!” Castin groaned again, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh hush!” Clara chuckled softly pinching Castin’s side.

“My boy! You’re home!” Clara cheered rushing up to her son who now towered over her. A bright smile on his face he embraced her closing his eyes in relief now that he’s home and away from the camp that had too many funky bodies and none of his mother’s delicious cooking.

“I missed ya too, ma!”

“You better! The amount of time I stay up thinking and worrying about you!” She exclaimed letting go so she could do a look over of her son.

She tsked at his lanky figure “Are they not feeding you? What you have to be an official soldier to get a decent meal plan?!” Clara continued to fuss causing Castin to smile and laugh to himself at his mother’s behavior.

“Gisela! Isn’t that the boy you’re brother-”

“Shush!”

Castin developing keen ear picked up not to far from his home. His eyes catching sight of two girls around his age walking by huddled together as they peered over at him while whispering horribly.

“He’s cute! Maybe you should ask him out?”

“What?! What if he says no?”

Smirking Castin lifted a hand “Sup Ladies!” He greeted jerking his chin up in a nod. The two girls gasped then awkwardly laughed stopping their stroll now that there was an air of opportunity.

Frowning Clara glanced between the girls and her son. She studied the two before her eyes went from slits to calm within seconds.

“I’m sorry girls but my son here desperately needs a bath! Camp has lice!” Clara huffs looking at Castin’s hair full of disgust. “Yeah! Unfortunately that’s what happens with some soldiers in training!” She tells them shrugging her shoulders, ignoring the look her son was shooting her way. The woman shooed away the girls who held a displeased look on their faces.

“Maaa!” Castin cried dramatically raising his arms asking ‘why?’

“Trust me Cassie I’ve seen those girls buzzing like a hover fly in other warriors in training faces and I’ll be damned if you came home with something far worse than lice.”

Ushering her son into their house Clara began what Castin would refer to as rambling “I did you a favor! You need a girl who doesn’t get so excited over male attention! Someone who shares something you also love-like reading! Oh and she has to be sweet! You need a nice girl! To keep that heart of yours safe and full of love.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Ma!” Castin rolls his eyes happy to be home. “I’ll be sure to marry her when I find her”

Castin stood tall at the alter his Commander suit felt like bricks anchoring him in place as his eyes were glued to the approaching figure in all white. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked making her way towards him, towards their future together, a one sided love. Ethereal is what came to mind as he saved this memory in his mind. Many years ago his mother told him and now it’s happening! He was in love! Goddess how he loved her. It plagued him! Turned every other woman into faceless humanoid creatures who could no longer sway him with their attention and empty affection.

His eyes only saw her, he only wanted her. Somehow she casted a spell and poof! He was her’s and she had no clue. That was the bittersweet part of this wedding. He was marrying the woman he loved while she was marrying the man she loathed.

Omorose barely spared him a glance as she stood emotionless at the alter beside him. Rhett shook his head throwing Castin a short look of disappointment at failing to win over the Baroness, before be started the ceremony.

“Today is one that will be marked in our new found history. Where two enemy nations set their hatred, division and differences aside to unite and become stronger together as one through the union of Intacian warrior commander Castin Hammer and Imperial Baroness of the coastal Empire Omorose Fentress. Bear witness as they commit themselves to each other and as their commitment serves as a bond between the Coastal empire and Intacia!”

A mixture of low groans and whispers creeped up once King Rhett finished the opening speech of the wedding ceremony.

In the coastal empire Weddings were a show. The richer you were, the higher or title the more elaborate your wedding is expected to be. Ballads were song, Dances were performed and the tales of both families histories were told high lighting where the union was a grand one. It was quite the cultura shock when Rhett went straight into asking

“Baroness, before the Goddess and everyone here do you take Castin to be your husband? Do you accept him as your partner and your equal for the rest of your life?”

“I do.” Her voice voided and empty as she sealed her fate, intertwining her life seconds before he did the same.

“And Castin, before the goddess and everyone here do you take the Baroness to be your wife? Do you accept her as your partner and your equal for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah…I do.” He said softly stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. The empty look in her pretty honey eyes pained him to see. A consequence for him being a total ass.

“Then I king Rhett of Intacia and of the Coastal Empire bind you two together forever. Castin you may kiss your wife.” Rhett announced motioning him to step forward.

“Gladly!” Castin smirked.

Omorose mentally frowned as she was pulled into the kiss. She didn’t bother putting much effort into its Castin lead it.

While it brought Castin butterflies it brought Omorose nothing but disgust especially when he moaned into the kiss. And the sound of cheering and clapping only made her sour more.

Pushing him away she noticed the look of disappointment on her now Husband’s face.

“Hey you know you didn’t have to push me away like that towards the end.”

“You were getting carried away for something that doesn’t mean anything on a personal level.” She snipped maneuvering her dress around prepared to get far away from him as possible.

“Yeah you’re right…my bad. Kinda got carried away there.” Castin admits hoping she would be a little more kinder to him like she was with her close friends and Nina.

Rolling her eyes Omorose searched through the crowd for a familiar face she could socialize with instead of the husband she wanted to avoid.

Moving closer he asked “Look…could we at least dance?”

Throwing him a look Omorose scoffed her heeled feet carrying her and her long gown away as a frustrated Castin followed.

“Hey! Come on…look you’ve been doing this for months. I am your husband! Okay? You just can’t keep avoiding me.” He pleads wishing to reason with her.

Not bothering to entertain the thought Omorose kept walking.

Castin signed in frustration watching her go “Are you serious?!”

With her head held high Omorose was completely unaware of the power she held over Castin who suddenly felt like the rejected boy of his village once again. The feeling causing him to crave alcohol to wash away the ill feeling.

He might as well make the most of his wedding night! Nothing else was going to come if it but partying and drinking himself stupid.

As a heavy weight he took the nearest bottle offered to him and chugged as much as possible desperate for rejected feeling to disappear. Perhaps if he got drunk enough one of the Bar maids would start mirroring Omorose’s looks and his feelings for her even if he no longer thirsted for meaningless conquests.

At the kings table Omorose listened to Rhett go on about giving the scoundrel friend of his another chance. She didn’t see how it would matter now that she tied herself to the hound.

“Dun da da dun da da!” A drunk voice sung loudly as a guitar’s strings were abusely played.

“Of course.” She hissed seeing Castin standing on a

Table top dancing with one of the barmaids that were on the clock. He looked absolutely stupid in her eyes. An embarrassment.

Rhett cursed excusing himself to retrieve his friend before he made a bigger fool of himself.

“No!” Omorose told herself standing from her seat and swiftly leaving the party to her room. She couldn’t allow herself to stay and be humiliated by a man who seemed to lack any control or self respect.

Once in her room she kicked off her heels and made her way to her vanity. Staring at her reflection ‘Stupid! Stupid! stupid girl with a sympathizing heart for her country’s enemy! Look where that weak caring heart got you. Pathetic!’ She thought.

‘Married to a man who is known to fuck anything as long as it has a warm hole! A damn dog! Now you have to lay it a flea covered bed because you want to fix your family’s mistakes like the fool they tried beating out of you!’ Her mind continued to berate her. Her nails sunk into the flesh of her palms as she willed the horrid thoughts away. Tears gathering in her eyes as negative feels swept over her.

“You always knew you were damned to a loveless Marriage don’t act surprised now. It was practically a birthright. But you’re not going to allow that or him to define the woman you are. You’re stronger than that!” She tells herself sinking her nails further into her palms to stop herself from shedding a tear.

A shaky breath forced its way passed her lips as the feeling finally left her. Forcefully she smiled at herself in the mirror before pulling out her journal and pen.

Passing the time writing in it waiting for the party to end up staying dress in case Aurelia or Nina came looking for her.

Nina sighed from afar watching the whole interaction go down. In the pit of her stomach she felt a sense of regret for not pushing hard enough to get Omorose not to go through with the marriage. To her it was clear it was going to end in shambles quickly.

“Let me go see about that child of mine.” She says to a random intacian man that brought her over a drink.

“Yeah! Tell her I said ‘good luck’ cause it is needed.” He laughed taking the cup she handed back

She couldn’t get through the threshold of the banquet hall before she was stopped by the King.

“Nina wait! Let Castin go to her! He needs to.”

“You don’t think he burned that bridge and pissed on its ashes enough!” She questioned raising a brow.

Defeated Rhett knew she was right and couldn’t argue. Bowing his head tiredly he said “Let him try one more time. Maybe now that she’s his wife he would finally pull his head out of his ass.”

“Goddess willing…”

To entranced in her thoughts the sound of her bedroom door opening without her permission startled her. Within seconds her dagger she stashed on the underside of her vanity was in her hands ready for use.

Castin looked at the weapon then at her scoffing a little amused.

“Come on babe really a knife? If you were going to kill me you should’ve done it before our wedding! It’s a little too late now.”

Sneering at the man Omorose sat the weapon on the vanity and picked up her pen.

“Stop with that.”

“What? You’re my wife I can’t call you sweetheart?” He asked. His buzzed mind enjoying the attention.

“It was arranged! It’s nothing on a personal level so there’s no need for pet names.” She spat pressing her pen harder into the paper.

“Who care if it was arranged? You and I walked down the aisle that makes you my…” he trailed seeing her get upset. “Come on say it with me now” he laughs hoping to get more of a reaction out of her.

“We are one flesh serving one Queen sweetheart, get use to it.”

Closing her eyes Omorose lifted her fingers to her temples and proceeded to give herself a message.

“So are you planning on coming back down? I mean come on leaving your own wedding reception kinda early is tacky don’t you think?”

“Tacky?!” She couldn’t help but scoffed. “Yet you were embarrassing me!”

Taken back Castin screwed up his face “what?! How was I embarrassing you?”

“You’re excessive drinking.”

“Ugh it’s a wedding babygirl. People drink. It’s not that weird.”

“Encouraging drunk people to drink!”

“Ok sure people got a little drunk but once again it’s a wedding. When else,”

“And you’re rhythmless ‘dancing’ with the rhythmless Barmaids?”

“Hmm? What about the barmaids?” He asked not sure if he heard her right. She turned giving him the ‘you heard me’ look.

“Uh come on? No! No! You know that’s not what that was.”

“A tasteless rhythmless eyesore everyone was forced to watch! Not even a single drop in that bottle could spare you a half an ounce of grace for such a badly preformed sensual dance.” Omorose went on grimacing at the thought. “Or for the poor girl who tried so hard to catch the beat but couldn’t! Disgraceful!”

‘If you’re going to disrespect me and this marriage so soon you could’ve at least looked decent while doing so.’ She thought.

“Okay! So I’m social! Not everyone is as introverted as you.”

“So go be social!” She waved towards the door.

“Nah I’m staying here with you.”

“Besides the Queen bounced after you left and that was the only thing keeping the party going soo… I think we’re done.” He says loosening his collar.

“The Queen asked about you. Ya know.” He went on helping himself to a bottle of wine gifted to her by an imperial nobleman wishing her luck and voicing his disdain for not being the Groom.

“She did?” Omorose inquired curious as to why.

“Of course! You’re the Bride and you just dipped out of nowhere.”

“So did you tell her why I left?”

“Well I told her you and I decided to call it a night early because you were so eager to have your husband on your wedding night.”

The color in Omorose’s face drained at his words and audacity. Picking up her cup of old wine she chucked it at him with so much hate behind it.

“How dare you!” She hissed.

“Oh I’m sorry? Was that not what you wanted me to tell her?” He asked raving in her anger. It was the first time she spent more than a second on him he was lapping it up.

“Oh dag my bad. I mean if you would’ve just stayed you could’ve told her yourself.”

“Asshole.” Omorose grumbled her eyes like daggers as she glared his way.

She returned to her journal her handwriting turning sloppy as she jotted down what was needed to be recorded in it.

The squeaks of the facet and water running nearly made her blood boil.

“What are you doing?” She demanded not in the mood to continue with his fuckery.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m drawing a bath.” Castin stated obviously now growing tired of his wife’s attitude.

“Why?” She bluntly pressed him.

“Because I’m covered in sweat and wine and general party juices.”

“Not here.” She states wanting him out of her space

“Uh what makes you think I can’t?”

“Because I said so.”

“So you have a messed up attitude…that means I can’t be clean.”

“I don’t give a damn what you do as long as it’s not in my room?” Omorose replied

“Correction this is our room.” He corrected picking up a bottle of Omorose’s expensive oil infused bubble bath “and if I want to take a bath in our room I can do that.”

“Our room?” She asked in disgust. The night just kept getting worse.

“I mean you’re welcome to watch.” He smirks.

“I’d rather choke on the food I didn’t get to eat tonight.”

Annoyed at the whole ordeal Omorose thought of a way to piss him off like he pissed her off even if it was childish.

Shifting her dressed she sat herself more comfortably in her vanity chair picking up the book she was reading the night prior subconsciously scheming.

‘The window’ her subconscious pointed out. Curious if it would work she looked over to not only see through window but Castin.

Despite her feelings towards him she can admit that he was physically flawless when it came to his built and the scars marking up his body only added to his appeal.

Castin felt a boost of confidence seeing her look this way. He teased earning an eye roll. Turning back into her book Omorose pushed down the slightly embarrassment that crept over her.

Relaxed in the water Castin informed his wife of the Queen wanting them to ‘promenade through the garden’ so people could see them in the next upcoming weeks. Boldly he tried to suggest spending time outside of that request but was shot down with a dry “No”

“It doesn’t matter what you were going to say. The answer would’ve still been, no.”

Curious and a little bitter Castin grilled her on why.

“I have far better plans with far better company, that won’t cause me an exhausting headache.”

“Okaaay. The personal attack was kind of unnecessary. Who do you have plans with?”

“Lord Reyes.”

“Lord Reyes? Really? The dude from the Library?” Castin huffs remembering walking in on the two smiling and giggling to each other closely over something he couldn’t understand.

In sudden jealously Castin demanded “W-what do you have to do with him?”

Tiredly Omorose mouth turned smart “And you need to know because?”

“Seriously?” He gave her a pointed look. Shaking his head at her answer he decided to ask another question “oh so what is this Lord Reyes like?”

“What do you mean?” She countered dumbly.

“‘ What do you mean’ what do I mean? What do you think of him? Do you think he’s handsome?”

“As a matter of fact I do! Not that it matters since this is a fake marriage!”

Pissed off by her last sentence Castin corrects her in a low tone “This is not a fake marriage. It’s an arranged marriage.”

Seeing the displeased look and hearing him let out a breath, Omorose believed that their conversation session for the night ended.

Standing she looked over at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What?” He asked dejectedly.

“Can you hurry up.” She demands wanting to wash this lack luster day off.

“Relax there’s plenty of hot water. I’ll be out soon. You’ll get your turn.”

“Well make it real soon.”

“How about this the more you tell me to hurry up the longer I stay in here.”

Not happy with that she looked back at the window and made her way over to it. “What are you doing?”

Unlatching the widow she slid it open inviting the cold night air to creep in like fog.

“Are you serious?!” He raised his voice not believing she could be so childish.

“It’s freezing! Can you close that please?”

“No I’m getting a sudden flash of heat! Must be the dress…”

“So petty.” He grumbles “Fine!” Castin stood up from the water without warning.

With a cringe Omorose adverted her eyes hearing the water splash and puddle on the floor.

Sensing she still wasn’t happy Castin once again asked “what? You got what you wanted. I’m out! It’s all yours.” He motioned to the tub.

“Good now leave!”

“No I’m not leaving.” He retorts drying himself off

“You didn’t leave me I got in!” He pointed out.

“It’s different!”

“How’s it different?”

Rolling her eyes annoyed at that fact she couldn’t think of a solid answer.

“Go ahead do your thing.”

“Not around you!”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m going to bed I’m not looking at you.”

Omorose stayed glued to her spot watching as he got into her bed much to her disliking. His face turned away from her and stayed that way. Taking in a gulp of air she unzipped the seamless zipper and allowed her gown to pool around her revealing the white lacey thong she wore underneath.

Worried he would turn to sneak a peak she quickly got in the tub thankful that it was a heated and filtrated model but the cold air still bit at her. Splashing at the water she wordlessly got Castin’s attention who was tired of her and her shit.

“What! What do you want now? What do you want me to bring you?”

Pointing over to her vanity Castin glanced over to see her book lying opened on the page she left off.

“Your book? Naw you shouldn’t have left it there.”

“Why not?” She pouted sinking into the water.

“Because I’m already comfortable. Besides! Didn’t you say you didn’t want me to see you?”

Grimacing at him quoting her she lets out an irritated groan.

“Just bring me the book please?”

Puffing out air Castin got up from bed “Fine. If you say so.” He shrugs crossing the room to get to her vanity. He picks up the book telling himself to not be disrespectful enough to sneak a peak.

“Can you close the window?” She requested since he was up now.

Agreeing since he too was cold Castin made the extra journey to close the window before he noticed that the fire was low in the fireplace.

“Hey that fire is getting kinda low don’t you think?” He pondered out loud. “Where do you keep the wood?”

Raising her arm she pointed towards the corner closest to the fireplace her eyes not leaving her book once it was handed to her.

Castin hurriedly tended to the fire wanting to get back to bed since his alcoholic buzz left his system completely now. He turns but the way that the moon light casted itself over his wife caught his attention and he couldn’t but to see her in all of her glory.

“My Goddess…” he gawked his mind already capturing and saving the image to his memory like a camera. “Now that’s a view worth getting outta bed for.”

Out of anger and loss of dignity Omorose kicked her leg up at a certain angle getting water all over Castin landing her into a predicament that from sour to sweet.

For the past few months, she's been working so hard to keep the wall she built up between her and Castin.

A wall she knowingly built brick by brick after each distasteful encounter she had with the army commander to protect her, her feelings, and her time. A wall that was crumbling slightly as she watched him, her newly married husband, and his hard exterior fall in front of her as he asked her

"Please just tell me why do you hate me?"

Her heart softened just a bit at his cracked exterior but she hid it behind her voice as she spoke "So the embarrassing me with the lingerie gift you gave me the time you ever met me slips your mind-"

Castin opened his mouth to speak but the fierce glare made the words he wanted to say faltered into sounds "I- sorry no! Go on." He apologized

"I've tried to get to know you Castin but each attempt showed me what type of man you are. A dipso, egotistical rake who hangs around degenerates who think and acts the same way! The way you automatically viewed me as an object you could have the pleasure of fucking! Why wouldn't I hate you?" Omorose wailed tearing her watery eyes away from Castin's crestfallen face.

The young wife hid her face back in her book shakily admitting

"Too many people-Men and women view me the same way...it's degrading to know that instead of acknowledging everything I've done, all that I have accomplished they-" Omorose bit her lip, pushing back the sob that almost slipped.

"I'm very well aware of the fact that people want me in their beds. It's hard not to notice Castin! I promised myself at the age of 15 that I would wait and fall in love with someone who wanted me entirely and not just for my body but I failed! I failed myself when I agreed to marry you for the sake of the new kingdom. And now I'm stuck being the trophy wife to a man that saw me as a glorified sex doll the first time he ever saw me! That's why I hate you."

Her words and the sound of her voice cracking broke Castin's heart. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the woman he was in love with and moving forward he would be damned if he knowingly did so.

Castin took a deep breath. Every word his wife whimpered out processing in his mind. "I-I'm really sorry." He apologized the words he wanted to say, the things he wanted to confessed jumbled in him.

"Can I just um... can I ju-just think for a second? Thanks." He asked catching a glimpse of Omorose's pretty honey-colored eyes gloss over with vulnerable tears that gathered at her water line.

He finally got his answer and it left him speechless, seeing her push back her tears over it left him aching.

He was among a group of people that Omorose loathed but had to silently deal with instead of the people she felt at peace with and that tore him apart inside.

"Look. That's not me! Okay. Ev-everything you said…that isn't me." He started

Omorose scoffed pulling her knees closer to her chest "That is not you? The man you've been since I met you isn't you?!" She rolled her eyes causing a single stream to fall down her face.

"No, no I-I know I-I know I have a reputation! Okay?

Th-th-the brawling, the drinking, and just…generally being a rake but, that's not me! Okay?" He stressed hoping she was listening to him and was actually taking his honest confession to heart. "That's not the man I want to be" he paused searching for a reaction but received none. "Look I-I know I may not be explaining this well but," Castin's trailed off staring at the book cover held in Omorose's delicate hands. The ring on her finger shone under the dimmed light, the same one he placed there only a few hours ago catching his eye.

'Rhett is right.seems like he's always right. Castin thought, thinking back to the advice Rhett gave him before ordering him up to his new room in the palace.

"Drop the manly Intacian act. Be yourself Castin!

That is exactly what won me the Queen's heart, and it can be the same for you."

Taking another deep breath Castin prepared to drop the one thing he felt protected behind, the wall that shielded him these past years, all in hopes that Omorose his wife saw him in a different light.

"You know I really did read that book. When I was a kid...I wasn't just-trying to have something to say…okay? I-I really like that stuff." He awkwardly stated.

Omorose peaked over her book after listening to Castin struggle with his words and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Look I don't know how to explain it alright. I just feel like there's me everyone else sees and then there's the me that's really.me and the me that everyone else sees I hate it okay? I'm not that guy!" He admits feeling a wave of mixed emotions wash over him.

"Then why do you act like that? Why pretend to be someone you hate?" Omorose questions putting the book down entirely. Wanting to understand why someone would torture themselves like that.

"Because I-... I-I don't know. I was different when I was I-I was like you and then being a warrior in Intacia i-it's it's just different. You have to be strong and respected. You have to fit in." He explained feeling slightly smaller under her stare.

"Look! It's all really confusing to me... but every time I look at you it's clear. The man that I want to be is the exact type of man you would fall in love with. You remind me of everything I really care about of-of who I was back then- n-no no of the man I know I still am.

I-I just need your help."

Omorose felt her eyes soften at the stuttered admission, the honesty in his voice and the look in his eyes shined a new light over him. She cast her gaze to the ceiling contemplating whether she could forgive him and let go of her grudge she had against or not.

"I-Look, I know I screwed up. I'm used to charming people to get my way and I tried to do it with you with all the gestures and all the flirting and I'm sorry.

That's not who I want to be anymore." Castin said following her gaze

"Hey look at me. I want to change." He says looking into her eyes once she looked back at him.

"For you. I just need you to show me how. Just please give me a chance." Castin begged, moving closer to Omorose who's heart speed up as her husband leaned in to kiss her.

The Baroness has never been in such an intimate moment before, she guarded herself well before getting married and now without any experience or idea of what to do in that moment besides kissing him, she felt even more vulnerable. And when he whispered that he wanted more against her plump lips she felt a flutter in her tummy. A mixture of excitement and anxiety as her smothered voice asked "sex" between kisses.

"No! No! I don't mean like that. I mean-" he broke into a light-felt chuckle " No I do want you like that. I really do but, I-I don't just want to you physically okay? I-I love you an-and before we do anything I need to know that you're really into trying to make Because if you're not and this is just some heat of the moment thing for you then I-I can't cause it's not just that for me and I don't think it ever will be... so please don't go through with this and then hurt my feelings later."

Omorose could feel it in her heart that she forgave him right then and there in his vulnerable state, asking her not to hurt his feelings and string him along. Something she would ask something she would say.

"Are you for real about this? Am I your husband or just some warrior the Queen forced you to marry-"

Omorose stepped out of her character, reaching up to grab Castin's face to kiss him. It surprised him for a second, feeling her soft lips on his. Though a bold action he could still tell that it was a shy gesture.

"You and me," Castin said pulling away and placing a kiss on Omorose's forehead. "Let's just start over?"

He smiled softly going in for a kiss

"Okay." Omorose softly agreed.

[sweetarethediscords]

You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration...

The Maiden of the Barren of the Rime wouldn't exist if it weren't for Critical Role, Liam O'brien, and most importantly Caleb Widogast.

I'm sure every Critter out there has asked themself the question: 'What character would I play if I ever got to play at the table?' My answer was Mina.

Mina, originally, was a ranger/bard eladrin cursed to stay forever in the winter season. Specifically made with Campaign 2 in mind, I wanted to design a PC that would create a good juxtaposition to those already at the table. A literal iceblock that the Mighty Nein could chip away at as they often did with too-serious NPCs, and someone who could be mirror to Caleb, my favorite PC from Campaign 2.

As Campaign 2 steered it paths towards Aeor and the Eyes of Nine however, Mina didn't fit in the campaign any more (as most fandom OCs will do as canon goes along) but I couldn't abandon her. Couldn't throw her into my constantly growing pile of character sheets.

And she wouldn't let me forget her. In fact, her and her eventual counterpart, Sebastian, are some of the first characters of mine in recent memory to invade my dreams.

There was something in her I had to explore. Her rage echoed my rage. Her want to overcome her trauma, but fear that she would always be chained by it, mirrored my own healing journey.

Other characteristics of myself and themes I wanted to explore became the other characters. Sebastian became the other side of Mina's coin, someone who met inconveniences with relentless optimism instead of rage. A self-sacrificing people-pleaser against a self-preserving misanthrope, whose flaws both came from coping with past hardships.

A dirty little fire wizard sparked a rich story exploring the societal expectations of womanhood, the nature of generational trauma, and the complex journey of learning how to love one's self through others (among many other themes)...

...and a incredible talented singer/songwriter from Ireland helped hone them.

When I first started writing The Maiden of the Barren Rime in 2021, Hozier's music played an important, but minimal roll in providing emotional clarity for the characters. "Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene" helped to color the more ethereal and deadly nature of Mina, the fae part of her that lures people in, while "Nina Cried Power" grounded her fury, and helped to shape the larger world of Mina's story that will be revealed in later books.

As the core of the novel was written and finished in January 2023, the editing and refining process became my next great beast to slay. A huge slab of marble that with my fantastic editor and outside readers I was able to carve away at, but Hozier's Unreal Unearth steadied my hands.

It was already a wild enough coincidence that 'Blood Upon the Snow', a song meant to capture the brutality of winter in God of War: Ragnorak, released during writing MBR; eerily capturing exactly how I pictured Mina's upbringing. Hearing Unreal Unearth, a beautiful album about heartbreak, healing, death, and grief among other things, while I was writing an novel about heartbreak, healing, death, and grief among other things was surreal. And wonderful.

It helped to inspire the words I was missing, helped me carve out more cutting prose to capture the depth of my characters' emotions, and most importantly gave me the reassurance that the themes and emotions I was exploring were not singular, but shared. In different shades and presentations, but all coming from a same source of universal human truth.

I can not thank these two enough for the inspiration they've given me, and I can not thank you enough if you've read this much of my ramblings (and suffered my cheesy use of a Chicago lyric.)

[thecubspeaks]

Compared to oh, say, the gaping wounds and gushing blood that Karlach and Lae'zel bore in the aftermath of their latest sojourn into the sewers of Baldur's Gate, Gale felt like some minor magical lightning burns could wait. When Shadowheart at last turned to him, looking ghost-pale and utterly drained, spattered in their friends' blood, he held up his hands in demurral.

"If it's still painful in the morning, I'll come to you," he said, and Shadowheart nodded, clearly relieved.

He and Shadowheart were often among the first to wake, she to pray, he to study his spellbook. Which was, he mused, not exactly not praying, especially now. Mystra's blessing sat new and strange upon him, he so constantly conscious of it, he wondered if it was visible to others.

His hands tingled with phantom sparks as he tried to study, and he decided it probably would be best to trouble Shadowheart for a bit of relief. It occurred to him, as he made his way quietly across their rather lavish rooms in the Elfsong to the corner where she prayed, that he didn't think he and Shadowheart had really spoken since that day in the Stormshore Tabernacle. In fact, it occurred to him that she had, perhaps, been avoiding him.

Some might be deterred by such a realization, but simply allowing misunderstandings to fester would only tear their little group apart in time, and they had enough to be worrying about. So he made his way over undeterred, waiting quietly in the doorway until Shadowheart lowered her hands and raised her head.

"Oh," she said, clearly surprised. "Gale. Did you need healing after all?"

"If you don't mind terribly."

She gestured him over, and he lowered himself to the floor next to her with a soft grunt. Normally, she'd make some arch comment about his age, his bad knees, something, but she just started murmuring the healing incantation, avoiding his gaze.

"Is something the matter?" he blurted out. She looked up, surprised again, the spell fizzling out from his interruption. "I can't help but notice that you seem... well, I don't think any of us have ever gotten a healing without some kind of commentary on our intelligence, speed, or recklessness. I was beginning to think it was an essential verbal component for you," he added, hoping for a smile.

Shadowheart didn't smile. She blushed slightly and looked away.

"I apologize, I..." She clasped her hands together, her customary unconscious posture when nervous, one hand cupped protectively over the curse-wound on the back of the other. She sighed and looked at him. "I'm sorry. I confess I don't know... I don't know what to say to you at the minute. I don't know what to say to the Chosen of Mystra."

Gale felt himself flush, a bizarre mix of pride and embarrassment and half a dozen other feelings with no sufficiently nuanced name in Common. "I must point out that you are the one who told me to ask for her forgiveness."

"Yes, of course I did!" Shadowheart said, then quickly remembered that their friends were still sleeping. Lower, she continued, "I know better than anyone that no good comes of tempting a goddess's wrath. We've already seen what Mystra will try to do when she's angry. If there were any way for me to placate Shar..."

"You did nothing to deserve her treatment of you," Gale said, surprised by the fierceness in his own tone, the surge of protectiveness towards her. "You can't compare..."

"She wanted me for her Chosen," Shadowheart said quietly. "When we were looking at those books in the Temple library, there was one... it said that the Chosen of Shar would slay the Nightsong. It was... she wanted it to be me. The stolen Selûnite to slay Selûne's child." Her voice was quiet still, but her tone soured into bitterness. "At the end of the Gauntlet, I heard her voice in my head. That I would cleanse her church, lead it to a new dawn."

"And only at the cost of Dame Aylin's life," Gale said dryly.

"And what price would you have paid?" Shadowheart retorted. "From the sound of it, you really could have been just like your beloved Karsus. You could have destroyed the Weave all over again, if not even more."

"And do you really think I have not paid for that mistake enough?" Gale replied. He didn't like to get heated with his companions, not at all, but he couldn't stop himself. "Should I have died? Should Mystra punish me, as Shar punishes you?"

Oh, he didn't mean that. He regretted it the moment the words were out, before he could even see the anger and hurt shining in Shadowheart's eyes. She looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was uncalled for, and not at all what I truly feel."

Still not looking at him, Shadowheart waved a dismissive hand. Then she raised her palms and mumbled the incantation, healing light pooling in her cupped hands, which she then pressed against Gale's burned arms. The prickling electric feeling faded at once, the burn marks smoothed away.

Her hands still on top of his, her eyes still lowered, Shadowheart said, "I'm frightened for you, Gale. I don't think any good comes of being looked at too closely by a god, whether it's Shar or Selûne or Mystra."

"Mystra protects me now," Gale said, baffled. Everything was as it was meant to be, he was who he was meant to be, and if one of the feelings mixed into that confusing nameless jumble felt suspiciously like an unshakeable sadness, that was probably a natural response to the state of things. "I feel her power. Her purpose for me is no more than what we all already hope to achieve. I entirely understand your concern, given your experiences, but I assure you, Shadowheart. There is nothing to fear."

Shadowheart pulled her hands away. "Yes. I hope you're right."