#ch: babylon

[wanderingspacepirate]

Babylon,

an Aarakocra Aberrant Mind Sorcerer, Level 6

Based on Babylon, by Barns Courtney

Born on the road to frightened parents, Babylon's never stayed in one place for long. Her dreams are plagued by a dark star that is always watching her, beckoning to her. She hears its whispers when she wakes. Separated from her parents during a thunderstorm, she keeps running, never stopping, hoping to outrun the promises of the night sky, the promises of her bones. But she can't run forever.

Extra details and mechanics below the cut! If I missed something it was because I was losing focus and/or was lazy. Find the original call for song recs post and other character posts in this tag, dnd song ocs. All the images have alt text image descriptions.

Background: Haunted One

I gave Babylon the Haunted One background and rolled on the Horror Trinkets table! She ended up with a toolbox containing the remains of a dangerous but broken clockwork arachnid. The languages she got through this background were Celestial and Abyssal.

Babylon's Spells

Cantrips

Blade Ward, Chill Touch, Dancing Lights, Infestation, Lightning Lure, Mage Hand (Telekinetic feat), Mind Sliver (Psionic Spells)

1st Level

Arms of Hadar (Psionic Spells), Dissonant Whispers (Psionic Spells), False Life, Ray of Sickness, Shield, Tasha’s Caustic Brew

2nd Level

Alter Self, Calm Emotions (Psionic Spells), Detect Thoughts (Psionic Spells), Levitate

3rd Level

Hunger of Hadar (Psionic Spells), Sending (Psionic Spells), Tidal Wave

Babylon's Metamagic

Distant Spell and Twinned Spell

Her Feats

I gave Babylon Telekinetic as a Level 1 feat, as well as Lightly Armored for her Level 4 Ability Score Improvement. She now wears studded leather!

Skill Proficiences

Insight, Intimidation, Religion, Survival. Her proficient saving throws are Constitution and Charisma. She has advantage against being charmed or frightened, and is resistant to psychic damage.

[incensus-nix]

[ddagent]

John Sheridan(s) in Babylon 5: The Road Home

[stevie-petey]

Hiiii💖

Oh my god you don’t understand how excited I am for season 3 now

Pls the entirety of this chapter was amazing and your writing are you kidding?

The way Bug said she’s gonna wait for Steve oh lord what a way to end a chapter

Our boy Stevie is finally going to get the love he deserves and craves and that’s exactly what Duffer brothers are too much of cowards to give him

Knowing Bug I can already imagine how attentive and supportive and caring this relationship will be and Steve’s gonna be so head over heels in love

Literally can’t wait💕

You’re amazing btw if I wasn’t clear enough and I just want you to know that I always always look forward to your posts

Love ya 💗

hi my dear !!

thank youuuuuu <33 and youre so right about steve n bug !! heres a snippet of my outline that details what their relationship will look like, you absolutely nailed it

n i love u so dearly thank you for the lovely words <33

[lordgodjehovahsway]

2 Kings 24: Jehoiakim Becomes Nebuchadnezzar's Vassal After Being Invaded By Babylon

1 During Jehoiakim’s reign, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon invaded the land, and Jehoiakim became his vassal for three years. But then he turned against Nebuchadnezzar and rebelled. 

2 The Lord sent Babylonian, Aramean, Moabite and Ammonite raiders against him to destroy Judah, in accordance with the word of the Lord proclaimed by his servants the prophets. 

3 Surely these things happened to Judah according to the Lord’s command, in order to remove them from his presence because of the sins of Manasseh and all he had done, 

4 including the shedding of innocent blood. For he had filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, and the Lord was not willing to forgive.

5 As for the other events of Jehoiakim’s reign, and all he did, are they not written in the book of the annals of the kings of Judah? 

6 Jehoiakim rested with his ancestors. And Jehoiachin his son succeeded him as king.

7 The king of Egypt did not march out from his own country again, because the king of Babylon had taken all his territory, from the Wadi of Egypt to the Euphrates River.

Jehoiachin King of Judah

8 Jehoiachin was eighteen years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem three months. His mother’s name was Nehushta daughter of Elnathan; she was from Jerusalem. 

9 He did evil in the eyes of the Lord, just as his father had done.

10 At that time the officers of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon advanced on Jerusalem and laid siege to it,

 11 and Nebuchadnezzar himself came up to the city while his officers were besieging it. 

12 Jehoiachin king of Judah, his mother, his attendants, his nobles and his officials all surrendered to him.

In the eighth year of the reign of the king of Babylon, he took Jehoiachin prisoner. 

13 As the Lord had declared, Nebuchadnezzar removed the treasures from the temple of the Lord and from the royal palace, and cut up the gold articles that Solomon king of Israel had made for the temple of the Lord. 

14 He carried all Jerusalem into exile: all the officers and fighting men, and all the skilled workers and artisans—a total of ten thousand. Only the poorest people of the land were left.

15 Nebuchadnezzar took Jehoiachin captive to Babylon. He also took from Jerusalem to Babylon the king’s mother, his wives, his officials and the prominent people of the land. 

16 The king of Babylon also deported to Babylon the entire force of seven thousand fighting men, strong and fit for war, and a thousand skilled workers and artisans. 

17 He made Mattaniah, Jehoiachin’s uncle, king in his place and changed his name to Zedekiah.

Zedekiah King of Judah

18 Zedekiah was twenty-one years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem eleven years. His mother’s name was Hamutal daughter of Jeremiah; she was from Libnah. 

19 He did evil in the eyes of the Lord, just as Jehoiakim had done. 

20 It was because of the Lord’s anger that all this happened to Jerusalem and Judah, and in the end he thrust them from his presence.

The Fall of Jerusalem

Now Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon.

[gallusrostromegalus]

18) What's the most obscure thing you've researched for a fic?

My interests are already bizarre and varied so I couldn't pick out what's Obscure, but for Ch 10, I've had to look up:

Different kinds of gun sounds, to see if my mom's analysis of them was right (it was)

The history of conflict in the Balkans

stock trading and what the SEC actually considers illegal (surprisingly little tbh)

what different types of women's shoes are called

Brain-hemisphere-specific functions (again, surprisingly little)

The Babylon's Ishtar Gate and the related crimes of the British Museum

Cybersecurity software.

[hyvnam]

HEARTLESS — CH 1.

Where we left off.

POV Y/n is a Scientist who attended school beside Miguel in their youth and now works for the Spider Society. She was there from the beginning, even briefly dated the leader of the secret association then broke it off due to a third party. Now she works in the infirmary, trying to avoid Miguel, yet can't help but get caught up in his web.

Earth 928B, Guimauve Café,

Nueva York.

“I'm glad that you're back, Y/n.”

You fondled with your fingers, holding a half drunken cup of coffee.

It had been some time since you were back in Nueva York,, explaining that you needed some time to cool off. Gabriel called up and asked to meet up and you happily obliged.

He asked how was your trip outside of town, catching up like old times. After an hour he had to go, you sipped the last bit of your drink and asked,,,

“How are you and Kasey?”

You asked as he stood up, Gabriel gave a cheeky grin,,

“Much better than you and Mig.”

How cruel...,,

Miguel and you were like-minded in intelligence, that's how you befriended each other as kids. When you both got into Alchemax, it wasn't a surprise for your families to hear the news that the two of you entered a romantic relationship. However,, they never could've imagined the relationship would end with Miguel cheating on you.

He looked so unaffected when apologizing, saying he was shamelessly in love with another woman,, who was his brother's girlfriend, Dana, at that time.

You were bitter and left. The news of Dana's death due to venom reached you not long after it happened, you couldn't say you were sad since the sour feeling was still there.

When he heard you came back, Miguel sought after you. He needed help with developing a device that could help him travel through dimensions. You did help him with fixing Lyla and because of old times, you agreed.

From time to time you both met up,, the spark coming back to the point you ended up in his bed. Miguel offered a spot when the idea of creating the Spider-Society was in his head,, you absolutely rejected the idea of working for him.

After completing the beta version of the Dimensional Travel Watch, or gizmo— said Lyla, you stayed at Babylon Towers to observe any bad effects it would have on the wearer so you could make some adjustments.

You sat on a stool in the lab, where you usually hang around. The door opens, footsteps approaching you from behind.

The shadow of someone big loomed over your small figure. Suddenly you were rotated around and faced with Miguel,, his expression soft. He rests his hands on the counter, leaning his body over to you.

“What?” you asked, turning away as your face started to heat up like a tomato.

“Oh, mi vida,,, look at me.” he cupped your cheek, you couldn't help but snuggle in. Gosh this man had a leash around your neck, whatever he told you to do you'd do it.

“I know we left off in a bad way,, you know that I love you right?” he's such a red flag,,, your gaze fell to the ground. His expression then filled with guilt.

You looked back up and smiled,, "We never even ended things,”

Miguel's face lit up,,

He dragged you in again. Grabbing a hold of your chin,, gently kisses your eyelids,,

“Open your mouth.” he commanded.

Then your lips, it was sloppy, mostly just with the tongue. His other hand slid its way beneath your shirt.

—

You came out of the lab,, sweat dripped from your face. Your shirt was wet, ‘‘they really need to put an ac in there,, you thought.

Miguel followed after you, he pushed back his messy hair and it was back to it's original slick back. You noticed a lip stick stain and reached out to erase it from his face,

He held your wrist before you could pull away, then kissed the palm of your hand,,,

“I miss you, amor,,”

You thought this time it would work out. He finally changed,, oh god if you knew how you thought that time you'd kill yourself. Your hopes were up too high,, he just couldn't stop going behind your back.

He sneaked under your nose,, everyone knew, Jess did and Peter B too. The humiliation and pain you felt a long time ago when you caught him and Dana, it came back.

A wormhole opens,, Miguel walked out of it. His face filled with dread, oh how you wished you could slap him then and there. But you couldn't,, he fell into your arms and cried, his sobs filled his office.

Miguel knew about the consequences when he started the secret association,, he knew the rules that he had to abide, you reminded him countless of times.

However,,, he just couldn't resist having a life on another Earth with his dead fiancee and a daughter, named Gabriella. Peter B was there when that version that Miguel called heaven started to glitch and disappear.

From then on,, your relationship with him soured even more. You'd share a night with him then he'd find himself waking up alone, breakfast ready with coffee that he really liked.

The weight on his back became heavier and heavier as work piled up,, but this time you couldn't help.

Tbc.

[thenotebookwizard]

She-Ra | Defiance CH 5: Begin Anew

Happy Catradora Day!

This has been an awesome ride with the @spopbang. So much amazing writing. So much amazing art.

Shadow Weaver laughed softly. “Come now, Adora. This is a somber moment, yes, but not a sad one. Don’t you think it is time to begin anew?”

Writing Shadow Weaver is hard, y'all.

(If there was a way to tag individual chapters, this one would be tagged 'gaslighting' and 'manipulation,' because Shadow Weaver has plans for Adora…)

Tomorrow's chapter comes with another awesome piece of art by @rhnalli!

Tomorrow is also the last day of the Big Bang, but this fic will continue with weekly updates starting next week. Probably Fridays? There is a lot of it written, and while chapters may get a bit longer, I don't expect huge chapters in the near future.

That's a lie. Chapter creep will start soon, I'm sure. Hopefully, nothing longer than about 7500 words, though? I dunno. Y'all might have to tell me if I should do longer chapters or not.

...my first longfic in a long time. I know I keep saying that, but I really am out of practice!

That said, I have subscribers to the fic. And to me as an author. Poor, brave souls don't know that @cagebladeweek is soon™ and I have an Mortal Kombat multi-chapter fic in the final stages. Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, and Zoids are all waiting, too.

Lots more She-Ra, though, Most of what I'm working on is She-Ra fic these days.

Also, this comment sums up chapters three and four...

[nathanbatemanfucker]

WIP POLL

thank you for the tag @soft-girl-musings rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner got.

no pressure tags: @juneknight @doctorstethoscope @masterwords @mccn-bcys @lesbianhotch @campingwiththecharmings @toracainz @eyelessfaces @greg-montgomery @cptn-nash @saturn-rings-writes @soft-persephone @pedrito-friskito @psychedelic-ink @whatthefishh

[promptuarium]

NIMROD Saturn, son of Cush, son of Ham, son of Noah, began to be strong on the earth. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babylon, Erech, Akkad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar, in the 1788th year of the world and the 2174th year before Christ, namely that same year in which Reu was born. While he reigned a confusion of tongues was created in the building of the tower of Babel. Josephus’ Antiquities book 1, ch. 9 [sic; the quotation is actually in chapter 4] cites this saying of the Sibyl: "When all men existed with one voice, someone built a high tower, as if to ascend to the heavens by it: Truly the gods sent out winds, overthrew the tower, and individual and unique languages were distributed: therefore it came to pass that the city was called Babylon, which means “confusion”." See Genesis ch. 10 and 11 and Berossus books 4 and 5.

[kangaracha]

JUNE WIPS

i'm a month late but that just means that i actually knew what i was doing for a full two months. my monthly word count is pushing up too so i am hoping we are over the part of the year where i had nothing left in me and back on track to smash this shit out because i have. so many more stories to tell. so many books to write.

current projects

nevermore (160/300k, 3 chapters left of miroh and we're steaming ahead)

queenmaker (21 chapters posted)

what the water brought (no idea what the word count is anymore)

daybreak (4 chapters written)

head above water (keeps please respond)

Neglected™

the hymn of babylon (6k minho fic, a new addition to this pile. sorry bestie my bad)

FNF (8/10k)

leave part 2

the gone and the gathered ch 3&4

valleys (complete rewrite)

tgbyb ch 5

tsotl end part 1

darling don’t wake up x4

goldmine goldmine (landmine) (6/40k)

soul is yours to keep/zelda fic

draculas

[imperator-titus]

Be My Juice Box [Ch 1]

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Relationships: Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Modern AU with Some Twists, Slow Burn, they were roommates, Vampires Summary: Sometimes you have to sell your blood to a vampire to keep your head above water.

Notes: Playing with an idea I've had for a while! Mostly modern, but maintains magic elements with tiniest bit of cyberpunk elements. I used the basic outline of Rowan from A Non-Hero's Guide, seeing as I was thinking of this while I was writing that. I'm not giving up on Ghost from the Past or anything, but I recently got covid and couldn't really think about that story hard enough to get anything out. This came out much more easily for me.

Text under cut:

Insert finger. Get poked. Try not to curse in front of the sweet little old lady behind the machine.

Blood tested. Machine beeps. It spits out the results like a GreenWalls receipt.

The kindly old lady holds a cotton swab to your injured finger. She raises the cotton to her nose and, before she even reads your results, tells you your blood is top-grade, minus a little iron deficiency.

You chuckle nervously and say you can’t afford red meat, much like the rest of the city. She chortles and says that will all change, if you’re lucky. And you smell lucky.

A young man sits you down and walks you through how to use the next machine as he draws your blood. It’s not like the last time you donated blood. It’s sleek and sophisticated and barely hurts. You are unable to look away as the needle pierces your skin and your blood floods out.

He laughs and asks if you’re an ingénue. You know it as a literary term, but he is using it as a slang term for women who want to be bitten by a vampire. Plenty of those come through the Black Cross’s doors. 

The kindly old lady gives you a cookie to eat while the young man explains how to clean the machine. If you’re picked, it’ll be your job to maintain it.

After he’s done explaining all the other stuff like how to store the blood and read the test results, a being of unknown sex or species enters the room. It is just a dark shape, a shade. It explains the rules to you.

Your blood is being divided up into samples. Those samples will be sent to vampires currently in need of a “donor.” Donors come in two forms: on-site and off-site. You need a place to live, so you preferred on-site, but it still feels weird to imagine living with someone again, mortal or not. 

Those vampires will submit their impression of your blood and an offer for you to consider.

You laugh, because the shade told you “this isn’t an escort service,” but here it is, telling you that you’re being bid on like a cow at auction.

On-site donors are mostly like roommates, except they are giving up their blood and, in the case of vampires lacking a daytime servant, fulfilling reasonable requests. Donors are compensated for additional duties. 

They must respect their host’s space and privacy.

Basically, get along and leave the place how you left it.

Expect your offers in 1-2 weeks.

Thank you for your donation. You are saving unlives.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rowan Vignaud looked back in trepidation at the empty expanse of what used to be her home.

Like most in New Babylon, she couldn’t afford to live on her own in this part of the city. Maybe that would change, eventually. Cryptomancy had fallen out of fashion about 100 years ago in a push to elevate the more arcane arts. It was used to maintain systems that kept the world running and, despite its clear importance, was treated like kobold-work.

Rowan never understood that term. Kobolds did all the important stuff, like make sure the sewers worked and the garbage gets collected.

But then the world was briefly plunged into darkness and it became clear that the world still needed cryptomancers. One overworked, underpaid, underappreciated number-jockey in some dank basement somewhere caused the Great Crash, all because the world’s riches were protected by some other overworked, underpaid, underappreciated number-jockey sitting in a dank basement that no one ever listened to when they said this could happen.

Rowan was once one of those cryptomancers. Now she was hoping to work her way into a position where she didn’t need to give up her blood every day to live in the city.

Her things already sold or sent ahead to her new home, Rowan left with just a bag slung over her shoulder.

The residence was a “Brownstone,” as historians called it, a very rare sight in the cities these days. Out front, a kobold in a smart little suit sat on the first step, a binder almost as big as him clutched in his little arms.

“Ah! Yes! Human!” he called out cheerily as she approached. He made a few feeble attempts to put down the binder gently in order to greet her properly before he asked nervously, “Coulds you take this? It's yours anyway.”

Full of paper, it was a little heavy, especially for such a small creature. He was happy to be free of it, offering her a dramatic bow in thanks.

“Welcomes to your new home, Miss Vignauds!” The kobold hopped up the steps one at a time, taking them by leaps instead of clambering over them.

A week after her visit, Rowan received a packet from the Black Cross, delivered by a shuffling zombie who unknowingly left behind a finger on her doorstep. Zombies needed jobs too. Just not very complicated ones.

Inside were 3 offers as well as a form for stating her intention to take an offer or decline in the hopes of receiving more. 

The first offer was from a vampire further out from the city. She had many flowery words to describe the blood she sampled and provided many pictures of her estate. While Rowan was more inclined to live amongst nature, the permanent work she hoped to secure was contained to the city.

The next offer was rather similar, with intense feelings associated with her blood sample. The compensation was generous and their home was closer to the city.

The third was brief. “Adequate.” The offer didn't reflect that sentiment.

In the end, Rowan chose the third offer.

Inside the binder was a code to the door, but Rowan only got so far as the first digit before it whirred and beeped, indicating it was unlocked.

She kind of expected a vampire to be stuck in their time period and, while most of the house was still in its original Victorian style, it had obviously gone through some changes as its owner debated keeping up with the times.

“Master Ancuníns hasn’t had a live-in donor in a very long times,” her little guide informed her as they removed their shoes in the foyer, “so we don’ts really have much to says about his behavior.”

Well, he clearly knew she’d arrived, but was choosing not to show himself. It was daytime, she expected him to be sleeping somewhere. Maybe he heard an alarm, rolled over in his coffin, saw it was them at the door, pressed the button, and went back to sleep. Or whatever vampires did. The binder had a lot of information about general vampire knowledge and cleared up a lot of misconceptions that still lived in modern society. 

Could vampires be… shy? The binder didn’t really say.

“Master Ancuníns doesn’t have servants, but there is a very nice magical cleanings service.” To demonstrate, he indicated for her to pluck a petal off of a flower in a fresh bouquet brightening up the hallway and drop it on the ground. After a moment, like a mouse snatching a piece of fallen cheese, a mage hand darted out from another room and took the petal away. “So, you shouldn’t haves to do much.”

There was the kitchen, which was probably the most modern part of the home, despite the fact that it was the most useless to its owner. Here she would test her blood after dinner and, if her levels were good, have it drawn. There was a special storage unit just for the bags, separate from the spacious refrigerator where she found the last of her food from her apartment.

Then there was the bedroom. It was a little cramped, but there was a room next to it that would be her office. None of the furniture was hers, it would have clashed, but at least her mattress fit the bed frame. It was already made with her sheets, waiting for her to fall into it later tonight.

Rowan bid the kobold goodbye and sat down at the kitchen island to read through her binder for things he failed to mention. She was free to have guests as long as they didn’t spend the night or make a mess of things, a general “respect the place” rule. That was fine, there was no one she would invite over anyway. Anything she needed could be requested through a terminal to be delivered. How swank.

She was in the middle of making dinner when she thought she heard something. But when she turned around, there was nothing there. Vampires could move silently if they wanted, so if he wanted to sneak up on her, why make noise? Returning to her preparations, Rowan shrugged it off as her mind playing tricks. It was a very old house.

As she ate, the house’s “cleaning service” tidied up after her. She watched the translucent hands erase any indication that the kitchen had been used with a sense of… sadness? It wasn’t like she liked cleaning. It just made her feel lazy, in a way, not picking up after herself. Even when she was done eating, a set of hands was there to whisk away the dishes and wipe down the counter.

The blood-drawing machine was much the same as the one at the Black Cross center, but the tester was different. This one allowed her to prick any part of her body, not just the finger. A bead of blood welled up on her arm where she gave herself a little stab and the machine hummed as it worked.

The light turned green and it spit out the results. Some slight mineral alterations. At the end, it made some suggestions for additions to her diet. Rowan ripped off the results and placed them next to the terminal by the refrigerator so she would remember it later when ordering groceries.

Unlike the machine at the Black Cross, magic guided its needle into her arm for a perfect draw. Little pinching, no bruising, one slip of the needle into a vein. When it was done, she took the label it printed out, slapped it on the blood bag, and put it away.

Pressing a cotton ball to the crook of her arm, Rowan flicked through what was available from the grocery service. Rich people really could get their hands on pretty much anything. Only a few years ago, she could have afforded some of this, at least a decent steak once every other month. That was before the Great Crash, of course.

Groceries ordered, clothes unpacked and put away, computer set up in her new office, Rowan crawled into bed. It was the kind with the curtains, like she’d seen in period dramas. When she was little, she wanted one, associating them with fairy tales. Curious, she undid the ties and let the curtains close, creating a little room inside the room, only as big as the borders of her bed.

Vampires had to ask for permission to enter, but this was his own house. There was a more-or-less unspoken agreement that hosts would respect the places they provided for their donors, but the thought still crossed her mind.

The blood-drawing machine was there for many reasons. It controlled the amount donors gave, reducing the risks of complications. It allowed both parties to give and take at times convenient to them. And most important of all, not everyone was into the whole biting thing. But if they mutually agreed to it, they could go that route.

For now, Rowan was fine with the needle in her arm every day. She hadn’t even met her host yet.

But still. The thought of him sneaking in while she was asleep, crawling into bed with her, and sinking his fangs into her neck wasn’t far from her mind.

The two wouldn’t exchange words for some time. From Rowan’s perspective, it would be the first time they were in the same room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Astarion Ancunín made it a habit to be awake at least some of the day. Some people and places only operated when the sun was up, unfortunately. He only needed so much rest, after all.

The windows were shuttered, of course, so he had to watch for his guests from a security camera. Chin in hand, elbow propped on the desk, he watched with total enthralling boredom as the little kobold representing the Black Cross waddled up with his big book and crawled onto the stairs. Centuries ago, he would've bled such a creature dry and called it a snack. Sometimes he requested some of their blood, for special occasions. They could only give so little, it was like humans doing shots at a bar.

Then there she was, his live-in donor.

It had been a long time since he had one. Back then, it wasn't so official. It didn't end well. But when that sample found its way into his shipment of blood and it washed over his tongue, he knew he had to give it a chance.

Her looks left much to be desired, but he wasn’t planning on parading her around like some vainglorious trophy. Only his most special friends were allowed in his private sanctum and they required no impressing.

No, they would lead separate lives, one extravagant, the other plain. 

As much as vampires were cool and calculating, they could be quite fickle creatures. There were clear logical reasons for picking this particular donor: clean blood, clean record, stable life patterns, suitable for sharing a home. 

Then there were the less logical reasons. She was intelligent; he was old enough to remember when cryptomancers practically ran the world. Something about her told him that she wasn’t a romantic, which pleased him, because he spent all night playing the romantic lead and didn’t want to come home to entertain some ingénue’s fantasies.

But chief amongst all the reasons was the way her blood tingled as it spread throughout his undead cells. It was indescribable, rare, and horrifying. Of all the blood bags delivered to his doorstep, of all the necks pierced by his fangs, he’d never felt that spark of life.

Like a dirty secret, it was whispered about in dark alcoves by his fellows. Astarion had even lied about feeling it once, believing it to be some mark of status, as something to be envied.

Now he knew the truth. It was a curse. A delicious call to insanity. It was something he wanted to possess forever, but it had an expiration date. Why must human lives be so short?

In the old days, there was little to keep Astarion from doing what he wanted: to lock her up in his little castle and never let her go. Back then, you could drain people dry or charm them into your service. 

Of course, you ran the risk of being hunted. He didn’t miss that part.

Astarion stood in the doorway separating the kitchen from the hallway. Gliding on supernaturally silent feet, his donor wouldn’t have heard him. He watched as she made sense of her new surroundings and started to make her own meal. It would have tasted like ashes to him, but the thought of it nourishing her body, and in turn his, made his mouth salivate.

The floorboards creaked as he shifted his weight forward just slightly. Her head turned to see what made the noise, but his quick reflexes ensured that she didn’t catch even a hint of his form.

Hiding in his own home. What a miserable creature he’d become.

[izayoizuki]

Mine To Keep Ch. 3

Pairing: Hangman x F!Mitchell!Reader

Because there is no uneventful night at the hard deck.

Warnings: small physical altercation, OC Villain is mean to reader, no specified race/physical descriptors for Reader, Reader can be read as 1/2 white because she is Mav's kid

Wordcount: ~3.7K

Previous Chapter || Masterlist || AO3 || The Receipts Universe

Mine To Keep Chapter 3: Homecoming

"Who was that?" Goose asked, a study in feigned nonchalance, as you slid into the front seat.

"An acquaintance? Honestly I'm not too sure, I just bumped into him, his callsign's Hangman." You fastened your seatbelt as the truck started up. "Anyway, what's got your knickers in a twist?" Thankfully the change in topic worked as his face twisted into a grimace. 

"It's about your Godmother..."

"What's wrong? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine it's fine, it's just, our anniversary is coming up, and you know...." You did know, your godfather was a romantic guy to begin with, absolutely crazy about his wife, and he felt extremely guilty about what his career choice had put her through - his words- that he went all out for every occasion that concerned her even remotely.

"Oh yeah... So what are you thinking?"

"Well, that's just it. I've been wracking my brain, but nothing is good enough. Well, that, or I've already done it. So I thought you could help me shop for a gift?" There was indecision in his voice that you rarely heard, and your heart went out to him. You laid a hand on his arm as he swung the truck into a parking lot.

"Of course we can do that! Did you have something particular in mind?" You asked as you both scanned for an empty parking space. It was then that a window display caught your eye. It had an around-the-world trip tableau set up, from the pyramids of egypt to the palaces of Japan and the hanging gardens of Babylon. It was tastefully, painstakingly done, likely by a fresh hire who still hadn't been crushed under the pressure of work, and it caused you to let out an involuntary, dreamy sigh.

"You say something?" Goose asked, still concentrating on circling for a space.

"Nah, it's nothing, just this window display of an around the world trip. I've always wanted to do that."

"You and Carole are two peas in a pod, you know that? She's spoken about those trips as well. In fact, I proposed to her in Florence, and we went to Grenoble for our honeymoon. Of course in those days the force was footing the bill..." he trailed off, reminiscing.

You let out another dreamy sigh. And then the most perfect idea struck you, and you grabbed his arm excitedly "Oh! Why don't you and Roro do the around the world trip?"

"Don't think we haven't considered it, kid," he chuckled light-heartedly, "but there's too many hoops to jump, with the whole work-leave thing and your Godmother's volunteering and-"

"Then what about just for a couple of weeks?" You countered, cutting him off in your excitement, "You could re-create your proposal and honeymoon! THAT could be your anniversary gift- I mean you should take her out to a nice dinner anyway- maybe a beach picnic? Me and rooster and dad could help arrange it of course!- but then the actual present could be the trip! And it'll be the off-season so you'll probably not face the huge crowds! Not to mention you'd save a bundle!"

Goose screeched to a stop in the middle of his nth circle, his eyes trained wide on you. A car honked behind him and it jolted him into response, but now he coasted without looking for a space, his gaze on you. "Could we? Do you think? But what about the dates? The time off work? Should I park in front of the travel agency?"

You shook your head decisively. "No. I can plan the trip better than the travel agent. About the dates..." You grabbed his little agenda book in the cupholder and thumbed through. Dutiful husband that he was, he had his wife's activities pencilled in too. "Roro has a couple of breather weeks, could you get your leave then?" You recited the dates to him and watched his face light up.

"Yeah, that's definitely doable!" He shot out of the parking lot from hell and onto the freeway, pulling the top down on his truck and putting his aviators on. "What do you say we have a pizza night?"

"I'd say it sounds perfect!" You grinned right back, and he pinched your cheek.

"What would I do without you punkin'? I know you won't believe me, but I'll tell you again, you're my kid. We just have you to Mav because he looked all lonely and miserable. And boy do I regret it."

"Oh, I do believe you Unca." you looked him dead in the eye. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! You're where I get my moustache from." You joked, waggling your eyebrows and crossing your eyes, and delighted in hearing his yowl of a laugh.

*****

As you loaded up the pizzas in the car, he spoke up. "How're you gonna book the trip? Should we hit an ATM?" He reached for his wallet.

“No,” You said as you hopped into shotgun. “I’ll put it on your Visa.”

Goose blinked. “Can you do that?”

You smiled at him serenely and focused on fastening your seatbelt.

“Hey, Punkin',” Goose shot you a glance. “If you ever turn to a life of crime, remember I was good to you. Punkin'?” But you just turned the dial up on the radio.

*****

"BULLSHIT!" Rooster cried out. The table had been cleared up and the slosh-click of the dishwasher could be heard throughout as you all sat, cards in one hand and coffee in the other, a half-eaten plate of cannolis sharing the centre with a stack of cards.

"Oh yeah?" Maverick asked, the picture of wounded indignation, as he upturned a pair of hearts on the table, "That's the tone you're gonna take with your Godfather? The one who fed you with his own two hands? The one who changed your diapers? The one who- no no, you gotta pick up 4, c'mon-" Rooster glared daggers as he picked the discarded cards up.

"Speaking of bullshit, Pumpkin over here- five diamonds- has been hanging out with Hangman." Goose informed helpfully, as he laid out his cards face down in the pile.

"I am not "hanging out"- five of- no Roo, it's not your turn! Caro look, Roo is bullying me! Five hearts!- I bumped into him."

"You were sharing a dessert." Goose replied, as he slapped Bradley upside the head.

"I was being nice!" Rooster snorted violently in response, rubbing his smarting skull, even as you indignantly continued, "I was! For heaven's sake, I don't even know the man's name!"

"And yet you were sharing a dessert with him." 

"It's Jake, sweetheart," Carole supplied helpfully, "Jake Seresin, I believe." She was met with an en masse stare. "What, you think I don't know all of my son's friends?" 

"He's not my friend." Bradley grumbled.

"He saved your life, sweetie," Carole petted Bradley's smarting head.

"He saved our lives." Rooster nudged his head into his mom's hand, amending his statement.

"Don't bring me into this." your dad replied, smartly slapping a couple of cards down.

"It's not your turn, old man! It's mom's!" Roo stuffed Mav's cards back at him. "And you say that as if you're not concerned."

"Listen, I am beyond concerned. But nothing I can say will do any good at this point. I'm just going to be ready with the Kleenex and Ben & Jerry's. You liked the one with that smug comedian's face, right?"

"Wow, your faith in me is astounding on so many levels." you rolled your eyes, kicking Rooster as he tried to peek at the ever-growing stack.

"It might be jubilant tears."

"It might be patricidal tears."

"Is that any way to talk to your father? The man who fruited you from his loins-" you gagged, "The man who put a roof over your head? Besides, why don't you get angry at Carole and Goose, they've been cheating this whole time!" Mav finished plaintively.

This time it was Carole's turn to slap someone upside the head, "Just play your cards, old man."

******

Rooster picked up his phone, hmming and ahhing as he ambled over to you, sticking the phone to your ear.

"Hi?"

"Hey, oh my god! I'm so glad I caught you in time!"

"Hey Natasha, I'm glad too! What's up?"

"Well we were having our girls' night tonight and we were hoping you could join us." Pleasure suffused you as you scrunched the phone between your cheek and shoulder, shooing Bradley away. They'd thought of you. You exercised admirable restraint in not climbing onto the kitchen counters and can-canning.

"Oh, are you sure?" Old reservations reared their head but you tamped them down.

"Of course we are! It'll be fun too! And Penny runs a tight ship at the hard deck so you can actually cut loose. Listen, I have to go, we'll meet up with you at seven?"

"Sounds good!" You said your goodbyes and let her go, mentally squealing with pure joy, even as you picked out what sundress you were going to wear.

"You going out with Phoenix and Halo?" Asked Rooster, who it turns out hadn't been shooed away far enough.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I know the way they order, so you may wanna go easy on the wrap." He grabbed a knife. "Here, I'll help you with that, I'll take half."

*****

Phoenix and Halo were even better company than you'd hoped. Phoenix turned out to be a big reader, and Halo and your music tastes aligned wonderfully, so the conversation came smooth and easy, and above all, it was fun. Bradley had also been right about the way the aviatrixes had ordered; you surveyed the very filled up table, and the massive dent in the portions, with no small amount of awe.

You'd been there a fair while when Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, Rooster and Hangman converged on your group. Hangman casually came to stand behind you as Rooster grabbed a stool and slid in between you and Halo, Bob doing the same on your other side, so that he was between you and Phoenix. Fanboy and Coyote had scooted in between Halo and Phoenix. The manoeuvre was so smooth it was like watching poetry in motion, but even more than that, it was the familiarity of it. As if they had been your friends all your life, as if this was routine, normal, casual, as if all these years, it wasn't just Bradley by your side with no time lost in the middle, but Hangman at your back just as he was now, close enough for his cologne to envelope you, his breath to fan ever so slightly at the top of your head, for his body heat to warm up the skin on your arms. It was homecoming. And you could have almost wept from the sheer comfort of it.

Even as you basked in the sudden wave of emotions, Halo groaned, bringing your zoning out to an end, "Why? One night guys, c'mon." 

"Not you Bob, you're fine." Phoenix said, pushing a plate towards him.

"Wow, favouritism much?" Hangman muttered, grabbing a fry over your shoulder, even as Rooster grumbled, and his arm outstretched by your face made your stomach drop, your skin overheat. You could feel downy arm hair- his downy arm hair- against your cheek, and you had tamp down a shiver from going through you- even as you wondered what the everloving hell was wrong with you, to go nuts over arm hair. This night was playing havoc with your emotions.

"Hey, I'd rather be over there myself." 

"Not like any of you to be shut out of a poker game this early." Natasha observed. Hangman shifted closer to your back to allow folks to pass by behind him and then stayed there. You could smell the starch in his shirt- lavender and laundry soap- and that pesky shiver was rearing its head again.

"The cards are a fickle mistress." Hangman's quip was directed at Phoenix, but he was looking straight down into your eyes, snake, meet charmer.

Bob snorted. "The cards have nothing to do with it. You have a tell, Bagman." 

"Oh yeah-" Jake's hand came to rest on your shoulder as he attempted to reach over with the other, a friendly feint, but Bob had dug into the proffered plate, cheeks chipmunking, and now spoke with his mouth half-full, cutting Jake off as he casually twisted out of his reach.

"So what were ya'll talking about?" he asked, directing the conversation back to you, and it struck you how gentlemanly Bob was. You wanted to adopt him. You compromised by giving him a big grin.

"We were just starting to tell her how we got our callsigns." Phoenix answered her backseater. 

"It was probably all lies," Fanboy ribbed.

"So what's your version of the story?" you asked.

"Well, Phoenix here managed to crash and burn every single time she went up during her first week-" Phoenix threw her napkin at him, "And Halo over here manages to be teacher's pet no matter what. That what they tell you?"

You subtly caught eyes with both women before turning back to Fanboy. "Well, they told it better, but yeah." you grinned, and you knew from the way Phoenix squeezed your hand that you'd answered right. "What about the rest of you all?"

Coyote started to answer, but was drowned out by an unwelcome voice.

"What do flying and my dick have in common?" Yeller called from across the far side of the tables, making his way to your group, and you stiffened under Jake's hand. Hangman clocked the change and moved even closer to you, a feat, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You breathed in the altered scent thanks to the fact that he was almost bent over you- now there was expensive perfume mixing in with the starch and soap- and sat ramrod straight.

"They're both hard for you." Yeller made eye-contact with Phoenix as he completed his both crude and demeaning punchline, trying to muscle his way into the circle of the group and failing. "What, no laughter? C'mon, I'm the funniest person I know."

"You must not know very many people then." The words flew out of your mouth before you could even think, a reflex, and the whole group cracked up at the unexpected comeback.

"Thought you weren't taking up the bet, Hangman." Yeller had venom in his voice as the laughter died down, "Didn't know you were into ugly bitches." You knew Hangman was going to move before he knew himself, somehow, though you shelved the thought to the back of your mind to examine later, and subtly pushed your shoulder back into him, grounding him, reminding him. Yeller wanted the reaction, and even though your time with him had been miniscule, you never ever wanted to give Yeller anything he wanted.

"Hey Yeller, what does it say about you that you can't even get those?" You called out instead. Once again, the words were out before you could really think, and you were faintly proud of being able to take care of yourself. Your pride came before a fall though, because that's when everything started to moved in slow motion. You saw Yeller go purple with rage, Yeller's friends push through the crowd, Penny reach for her bell, everyone at the table start to move, Yeller reach for an almost filled stein on a nearby table, Yeller arch out the liquid so that it drenched you from head to toe, Coyote and Fanboy forming a wall in front of Halo, Rooster and Hangman both reaching out to Yeller too late, far too late while Bob tried to push you and Phoenix behind him and you realised with a start that Bob wasn't as much of a puppy that he appeared at first glance, that he was built like a 6'1 stealth missile, even as Bob didn't realise you had caught hold of Rooster and Hangman's sleeves instinctively to hold them back because you knew the ramifications of infighting so that you were all a tangle of arms and heads, all of this like a collage of snapshots someone was searing onto your retinas. Your reaction was even slower. You sputtered, gasping from the cold of the stinking beer, the sticky, terrible feeling of your skin and clothes sticking, the public humiliation in the now-silent bar as your whole body heated up in embarrassment, and you looked up wild-eyed. You were going to cry very soon, but you held it in. You instead scanned till you found Yeller, who was bent over with an arm behind his back, courtesy of Hangman, and walked up to him, your steps measured, steady. You walked right up to him, and squaring your shoulders, knowing that this was probably not the best idea, but also knowing that if you didn't do this, you would regret it your whole life, you socked him on the jaw.

Apparently this had been the right move, because Yeller had a glass jaw and went down like a tonne of bricks, taking the stein in his hand with him. 

It was as if the shatter of the beer mug was a cue in a play, and everyone unfroze. Coyote, and Fanboy picked Yeller up and threw him out, Halo went up to Penny to settle group's tab, Phoenix came to you and draped her jacket over your shoulders and Rooster informed you he was bringing his bronco to the front, as Bob gathered your stuff and walked with Rooster, presumably to cool him off. You were glad for it, because you didn't know what exactly you should be doing now. So it was a mercy when Hangman's arm came around you, his hand gripping your farside arm, shepherding you out into the parking lot. You walked out the door and let it shut behind you, the noise cutting away instantaneously, now a muffled faraway made-up-for-tv seeming sound, and it was only you and Hangman and the night sky and the million stars and the still still cars.

It was Hangman who broke the silence.

"Sorry," he said, his arm leaving yours to scratch at the base of his skull, and you missed his heat immediately. You could tell that he was, oddly enough, taking responsibility for the whole scene, battling guilt.

"What for?" You asked, puzzled.

"Huh?" He seemed startled, as if he had expected you to blame him as well. "Well, for that-" he jerked his head in the direction of the bar, and you shook your head, trying to make sense.

"What part of that was your doing?" You asked him gently, and now it was his turn to shake his head. "I should thank you," you laughed softly, and his head jerked up, his eyes trained on your face, "For holding him so still."

"Wha- oh. Yeah." He hung his head, scratching the back of his head again, "Yeah, you pack quite a punch huh?" He laughed a small laugh, but you could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"Oh come onnnn, what's with the aw-shucks-i'm-just-a-humble-farmer routine? Where's my Hangman? I want him back!" You demanded, and that seemed to be the key, because his eyes caught yours and stayed caught, drilling into you, some kind of dark heat in them that had warmth blooming in your chest despite your physical state and you didn't know when the both of you had moved this close to each other but-

A large honk sounded from the Bronco and you both jumped, landing further apart than you initially were as headlights highlighted you in the pitch night.

"C'mon, I'm dropping you home, I've got all your stuff!" Rooster called out, dangling your purse from his fingertips like he was showing off a hostage.

"In a minute!" You called back, already starting to turn towards the truck.

"Hey, listen-" Hangman started to reach out, his fingertips to your arm, before jamming his hands into his pockets like he'd been singed. You had no time to read into the gesture because he started speaking again. "Listen, I know the evening didn't go the way-"

"You thought the evening was going to go a way?" You accidentally cut him off in your amusement, and he just shrugged good-naturedly, and you realised what you'd done and spoke up again. "I had a fun time," you assured him.

"Oh come off it," he scoffed.

"No, I'm serious, the whole evening was really nice and even the end it was kinda...", You were picking and choosing your words very carefully, "cool." You finished.

"Cool, huh?" His mouth tipped up in one corner and you felt yourself heat up.

"Listen, how about this," he said earnestly, "Come to beach tomorrow."

"The beach?"

"Yeah, we have this thing..." 

"Thing?"

"It's complicated, I'll explain the rules as we go. Just wear something you don't mind burning up."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Just... Trust me, ok?" And the utter contriteness in his voice, his obvious need to make this better that he couldn't keep out, even though he'd done nothing to warrant it, had you nodding.

"Ok. But I better have fun."

"Bet on it." He grinned.

*****

The ride to the house had been silent, and you'd both trooped over to your house, or rather, Rooster had fun doing his frog-marchy bit with you. Sometimes you thought he'd rather like to put you in a duvet cover and fling you about again, but you weren't going to test your theory. Instead, you let yourself be shoved into the bathroom with a "You stink," as if Rooster hadn't made this amply clear with the way he'd spread out towels on the shotgun seat. When you came out though, warmed and lotioned and smelling exponentially better than when you'd gone in, and wearing your softest sleeping t-shirt, you were willing to forgive him, because on your bedside sat a big bowl of ice cream and the TV switched on and frozen on the opening shot of "You've Got Mail". You grinned to yourself as you slid between your sheets. You'd always had a special spot for the movie. You didn't know why.

***

tagging: @therebeccaw @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @dempy @bluboop

[ddagent]

I can come back after you've finished dressing.

[catenaaurea]

David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias; and Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa; and Asa begat Josaphat. And Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias; and Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias; and Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias; and Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon. (Matthew 1:6-11)

In the fourth book of Kings we read, that Ochozias was the son of Joram. On his death, Josabeth, sister of Ochozias and daughter of Joram, took Joash, her brother’s son, and preserved him from the slaughter of the royal seed by Athalias. To Joash succeeded his son Amasias; after him his son Azarias, who is called Ozias; after him his son Joatham. Thus you see according to historical truth there were three intervening kings, who are omitted by the Evangelist. Joram, moreover, begot not Ozias, but Ochozias, and the rest as we have related. But because it was the purpose of the Evangelist to make each of the three periods consist of fourteen generations, and because Joram had connected himself with Jezebel’s most impious race, therefore his posterity to the third generation is omitted in tracing the lineage of the holy birth. Otherwise, we may consider the first Jeconias to be the same as Joakim, and the second to be the son not the father, the one being spelt with k and m, the second by ch and n. This distinction has been confounded both by Greeks and Latins, by the fault of writers and the lapse of time.

Jerome

That there were two kings of the name of Joakim, is clear from the Book of Kings. And Joakim slept with his fathers, and Joachin his son reigned, in his stead. (2 Kings 24:6.) This son is the same whom Jeremiah calls Jeconias. And rightly did St. Matthew purpose to differ from the Prophet, because he sought to shew therein the great abundance of the Lord’s mercies. For the Lord did not seek among men nobility of race, but suitably chose to be born of captives and of sinners, as He came to preach remission of sin to the captives. The Evangelist therefore did not conceal either of these; but rather shewed them both, inasmuch as both were called Jeconias.

Ambrose

But the order in the Book of Kings (2 Kings 23.) is different, thus namely; Josias begot Eliakim, afterwards called Joakim; Joakim begot Jechonias. But Joakim is not reckoned among the Kings in the genealogy, because God’s people had not set him on the throne, but Pharaoh by his might. For if it were just that only for their intermixture with the race of Ahab, three kings should be shut out of the number in the genealogy, was it not just that Joakim should be likewise shut out, whom Pharaoh had set up as king by hostile force? And thus Jechonias, who is the son of Joakim, and the grandson of Josiah, is reckoned among the kings as the son of Josiah, in place of his father who is omitted.

Pseudo-Chrysostom

[lordgodjehovahsway]

2 Kings 20: Hezekiah Falls Ill And Is Told By God To Get His House In Order

1 In those days Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz went to him and said, “This is what the Lord says: Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.”

2 Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, 

3 “Remember, Lord, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly.

4 Before Isaiah had left the middle court, the word of the Lord came to him: 

5 “Go back and tell Hezekiah, the ruler of my people, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you. On the third day from now you will go up to the temple of the Lord. 

6 I will add fifteen years to your life. And I will deliver you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria. I will defend this city for my sake and for the sake of my servant David.’”

7 Then Isaiah said, “Prepare a poultice of figs.” They did so and applied it to the boil, and he recovered.

8 Hezekiah had asked Isaiah, “What will be the sign that the Lord will heal me and that I will go up to the temple of the Lord on the third day from now?”

9 Isaiah answered, “This is the Lord’s sign to you that the Lord will do what he has promised: Shall the shadow go forward ten steps, or shall it go back ten steps?”

10 “It is a simple matter for the shadow to go forward ten steps,” said Hezekiah. “Rather, have it go back ten steps.”

11 Then the prophet Isaiah called on the Lord, and the Lord made the shadow go back the ten steps it had gone down on the stairway of Ahaz.

Envoys From Babylon

12 At that time Marduk-Baladan son of Baladan king of Babylon sent Hezekiah letters and a gift, because he had heard of Hezekiah’s illness. 

13 Hezekiah received the envoys and showed them all that was in his storehouses—the silver, the gold, the spices and the fine olive oil—his armory and everything found among his treasures. There was nothing in his palace or in all his kingdom that Hezekiah did not show them.

14 Then Isaiah the prophet went to King Hezekiah and asked, “What did those men say, and where did they come from?”

“From a distant land,” Hezekiah replied. “They came from Babylon.”

15 The prophet asked, “What did they see in your palace?”

“They saw everything in my palace,” Hezekiah said. “There is nothing among my treasures that I did not show them.”

16 Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, “Hear the word of the Lord: 

17 The time will surely come when everything in your palace, and all that your predecessors have stored up until this day, will be carried off to Babylon. Nothing will be left, says the Lord. 

18 And some of your descendants, your own flesh and blood who will be born to you, will be taken away, and they will become eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.”

19 “The word of the Lord you have spoken is good,” Hezekiah replied. For he thought, “Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?”

20 As for the other events of Hezekiah’s reign, all his achievements and how he made the pool and the tunnel by which he brought water into the city, are they not written in the book of the annals of the kings of Judah? 

21 Hezekiah rested with his ancestors. And Manasseh his son succeeded him as king.