#lord.. the suffering i went through while drawing this

[jsrenjoyer]

happy 25 years of ed boys

[targaryensluttt]

a muse on fire

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem! reader

warnings: none for this chapter, will eventually contain dirty nasty passionate smut (lol)

notes: this is my first fanfic, so feedback is appreciated! I'll continue this if I feel like anyone cares, lol. Still deciding on a lot of things, hence the switching between perspectives. Also the title will most likely be changed I couldn't think of a good one. I also have not decided whether to fill in readers name with Y/N or ___.

dōna run = sweet thing 

Gevie = beautiful

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

Third Person

“Of course, we want him looking well. Strong for the realm.” The Queen impressed upon her .”I will portray The King as strong as his soul remains, Your Grace. It will not be an issue.” She had been given-no, rather, fought for- the opportunity to be court painter. It had taken time and countless of her works overlooked in favor of higherborn, silly lords who could barely hold a paintbrush. And now, it was time for a new Targaryen family portrait, the first one to be done by her. The Princess Helaena, a dear friend of hers, had just given birth to her twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, and an updated piece was required. Bless her soul, she suggested ___. The Princess suffered mentally, although she was blessed with great gifts, they cost her much. As one of her former ladies, ___ had become one of her greatest confidantes through the years. Since marrying the Prince Aegon (whom ___’s opinion of was not high at all) she had become more drawn into herself. Since the birth of her children, though, ___ felt her spirit bloom again, and she was so very happy for her dear friend. As a woman artist, one who also felt things very deeply and passionately, she also had trouble containing her thoughts and emotions. As children, both of them were prone to episodes, and as adults, they both would suffer still, mostly in silence. She supposed that is why her and Helaena had bonded at a young age, and she was chosen as one of the Princess’s ladies.

Y/N perspective 

My whole life, art has been my purpose, my reason for ticking. Court did not thrill me, no, but the things I was afforded to see as one of the Princess’s companions made all of the bullshit palatable. As an artist, I am an observer. The lush gardens, beautiful (and some not, inside or out, however they may try to hide it) people, exotic animals, architecture, and other finery were often my subjects in my sketches and paintings. My tendency to drift off, as I was doing then, was interrupted by the Queen finishing her walk around the room to tell her various servants how to set up for the portrait I would be creating. “Your Grace” I said, and bowed my head with a slight courtesy as she went to the door. “Helaena, will you be staying with Lady __, or would you like to take tea with me before my council meeting?” she inquired. “No, mother.” Healena said. “Me and __ are planning on doing some sketch work in the gardens!” Healena loved to sketch too. In previous years, she saw how it would calm me when I was working. She had so much going on in her head, and drawing could help her stress greatly, although her tastes were limited to the insect variety when studying things to draw. It did not bother me one bit, though. Seeing my friend in a state of peace was worth any proximity to bugs. Some of them were rather beautiful too, I thought. I had even started a few sketches of my own of the creepy crawly variety. 

With that in mind, we made for the gardens. The halls of the Red Keep were extra quiet and dull today, no doubt the bright sun having an impact on the noble’s spirits, driving them to the main lawn to laze about and enjoy the afternoon. Upon arriving, I was thinking about how I was grateful that we were headed for the private gardens, in a more secluded part of the castle. I had no desire to witness the bubble-headed people in court go about their business. As subjects, they grew tiring to study fast. While the lawn spread around the caste and had their own enormous garden, Helaena and I’s destination was to the center of the castle, a much more secluded area of gardens mainly reserved for the royal family and their favorites. I had requested the servants set up a cozy area for her and I to spend our afternoon. Sitting down on the delicately embroidered cushions, I took a moment to look up at the sky and breathe in the fresh air. As Helaena settled, I asked her, “What will you be drawing today?” , though I already knew the answer. She smiled widely, and had her personal staff bring forth a tiny golden cage and she gently popped it open, which her newest interest, an orchid mantis she had found resting on the edge of a tulip  last week, came forth. “I’ve named her Ellaira” she said, giving the bug a gentle pet while setting up a branch for him to stand on while she worked. This specimen she had found was a rather interesting and delicate one, I thought. I decided I’d sketch it too.

Third Person

As time passed, both of you engrossed in your work, neither of you at first heard the footsteps approaching. With the serving staff walking about, attending to both your needs through the afternoon, you figured it was one of them. But as the footsteps grew closer, something drew you to look up from your favorite pastime, despite being deep in concentration. Upon seeing him approach, (unfortunately with his brother slightly tailing behind him, scuffing his feet along the way, )you thought about how regal he looked next to Aegon. As if the universe was sending a signal to the people he walked amongst that their roles should be reversed. How threatening, how dangerous he must look to the untrained eyes who knew him not as you did. But the truth was, he was dangerous. Very dangerous to most. Around court, he adopted a stiff stride, quick, as if he always knew exactly where he was intending on going. This was in sharp contrast to his elder brother, Aegon, who had developed a kind of slouchy, dragging walk, who tended to go wherever he deemed would provide him the most pleasure at the moment, and was easily changeable. But today, the younger brother seemed more relaxed, more loose. His strides were longer and quieter, and from across the courtyard, he made eye contact with you, and you smiled immediately.  He slowed to a halt in front of you two. “Sister, how fare you today?” He asks, although never breaking the eye contact between you two. As Aegon stood back and kicked the dirt around his feet, the younger Targaryen even went to sit on a spare cushion facing opposite you two. The sun must have had a calming effect on him today too, you thought. The relaxed mood seemed to suit him well. “Brother,” Helaena says, “Although I am flattered by the inquiry, I wonder if your intention is truly to ask me.” she said, and giggled. Helaena was never one for subtly when it came to embarrassing her brothers. At this, his eye flickered back to his sister, as if he was just remembering to match his face with his words.  

 “Aemond, hello, my Prince.” you said, as he grabbed your hand not holding your pencil, and brought it to his delicate and full lips, laying a chaste kiss on top of it, although you could feel the extra unnecessary second he spent dragging his lips across it and inhaling your scent. At this, you felt your hand grasp his tighter, and shivered slightly, telling yourself it must have been the breeze that entered the courtyard that gave you the chill. He smirked, and let go, lingering by taking his time to remove his fingers from yours. Although the silent exchange was over in a few seconds, it did not go unnoticed by Helaena. She was far too perceptive. She smiled softly but said nothing though, mercifully, (as you already felt the blush spreading from your cheeks to your neck and beginning to bloom on your chest) and went back to observing her mantis crawl across her fingers. “Lady ___, what has been occupying yours and my dear sister’s afternoon?” You explained of his sister’s new mantis, and that was what you two were sketching this afternoon. Endlessly curious of him, you then asked him how he had spent his time. “I have been reading in the lawn, soaking up some warmth, he explained, and then added- and now am escorting this oaf masquerading as my brother to do some sword training. It is a lazy day and I could use some easy practice.” He says, while scowling at Aegon. Turning his attention back to you, he continued softly, “Although, if I had known you were in here, hiding away, I would have much rather come to seek you out earlier.”  “I do so love to be read to.” you shyly said, smiling, remembering the times he had when you were but children, and then feeling as if you should include Helaena as an attempt to dispel the mist of intimacy that had settled between you and Aemond, you lamely added, “and so does she!” But Helaena had not looked up. She held Ellaria so close to her face, and was watching intently. “What came from your pencil and mind today, dōna run?” Aemond asked, and gently reached for your sketchbook, giving you time to push his hand away if you wished. With others, you only let them see the finished piece. The facade of perfection and high standard you held for yourself and your work mattered most. Those who realized the truth of you could surely hurt you and wield it against you. But Aemond was allowed to look, allowed to take, as you had secretly trusted him more than anyone, although at this time you could not explain why. You just knew you couldn’t shake the safe feeling that bloomed within you when he was near. Taking the sketchbook from your hands, you felt his palm lightly brush the back of your hand holding the book. Taking his time to  look at your work, he gently smiled, looked up at you, and said “Gevie.” The blush that threatened to overtake you was turning into a promise, with your cheeks becoming deeper and deeper shades of red quickly. You felt too exposed for this public crowd. A loud “UGGGHH” from Aegon behind you broke the flow of conversation between you and Aemond, and you were almost grateful. Revealing yourself so fully in front of others was not yet something you were comfortable with, and the prospect of looking like a pathetic love stricken maiden in front of everyone made you want to gag. “Brother. Now. I grow impatient of ladies’ tales and doings.” Aegon moped, urging Aemond on. Unable to hold in your eye roll, you pretended to glance up to the side and let it fly. Aemond noticed though, and grinned while he rose to his feet. “Sister, ____, I have to tend to this rat, but I will see you both soon, I am sure.” Pushing Aegon forward and beginning to exit, he briefly stole a second  to look back at you and smile. In that moment, the sun shining through the courtyard roof hit his silver hair perfectly, and illuminated his features, including his exposed eye and high, proud cheekbones. In that moment, he was all you could see. He looked like a young God. He is beautiful. You could have dropped to your knees, prayed to him, and worshiped him. And oh, how you wished to. 

dōna run = sweet thing 

Gevie = beautiful

[spurious]

some mcshep fic recs

So ever since I answered that ask from Mer about McShep fic recs, I've been thinking about posting more recs. I have been reading, like, so much fic because there just...is so much fic out there? As I intimated in the answer to that last ask, I am...not used to this amount of fic. The last ship I seriously read and wrote fic for has 58 English-language works on AO3, 17 of which were written by me (and another large handful of which were written for me lmao), so it's, uh, kind of amazing to just be able to read and read and read and read and...still have more?

I've been using my AO3 bookmarks, but sometimes bookmarking is simply not enough and you need to scream at people about the things you have read. So, without further ado...let me scream at you about the things I have read!

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1) 264 Hours by Lenore | ~6k, rated E

Set after Seige. The battle is over, except in Rodney's mind.

This one is just some nice Rodney emotional pain content; he’s fucked up over the events of the siege and John is trying, in his opaque Sheppardian way, to help, but it takes a perceptive sex worker and a confrontation to really get through to Rodney. I liked where this went but I almost wanted it to be longer and really draw things out? For the Suffering I guess lmao

2) Long Long Road by Telesilla & padawanhilary | (series) ~50k, rated E

While shopping, two college students run into each other. Literally.

This is an AU (that converges to canon eventually), where John and Rodney meet while at Stanford and find a mutual enjoyment of both each other and kinky sex. There are two branching endings, both of which end happily, the sex is really very very hot and good, and overall there's something that I just find extremely...cozy? About this series? I've read it twice now and I just find it nice and comforting and enjoyable.

3) Sheppard’s Law by Speranza | ~35k, rated E

"Weird? You don't know what weird is. Weird is being in a-- with the-- and the crazy alien--" He stopped, incoherent, hands flailing. "And then your best friend is twelve, and you're his piano teacher. That--now, you're talking weird!"

Honestly the idea of me in the year of our lord two thousand twenty three reccing McShep fic written by Speranza is like...asking someone who likes pizza if they've ever tried pepperoni lmao. NEVERTHELESS. I've now read this fic twice. The first time I thought it was good, but for whatever reason it didn't make that big of an impression on me? I have a feeling it's one of the ones I read before we finished the series when I was trying to find stuff that didn't spoil later season events? So anyway I just sort of randomly decided to reread it recently, and it really wowed me on a second go-round. I think the big-ness of it can be hard to wrap your head around, but when you do it's like...you feel both full and hollowed-out by it at the same time, because it's huge but it's also a collection of these snapshots and small moments that make up the whole. Idk it's just...it's good ok, read it if you haven't!

4) Ritual by lamardeuse | ~5k, rated T

The history of a ritual.

Beer 👏 on 👏 the 👏 pier 👏 As a team ritual, as the story of John’s love for Rodney, and as a beautiful coda to the shrine. John's POV in this is so gorgeously done, the way he's convinced himself of what he can and cannot have and is trying to deal with it the best way he can, even when it's immensely painful. I also like how Jennifer's part in things is handled in this, in terms of her reaction to Rodney's profession of love and how it stacks up against...literally everything else that happens in that episode.

5) Dumbstruck by sgamadison & the_cephalopod | ~30k, rated E

His existence, as he remembered it, began eleven days ago. He knew the word day was what to call the cycle between a single span of sunlight and darkness, but he could not remember what groupings of days were called. He didn't think it mattered much.

Due to...shenanigans, John loses his memories and becomes unable to speak. The thing I really love about this is how well Rodney knows John; how even when John can't speak for himself, Rodney clearly has this mental catalogue of Sheppard Expressions and he can deftly read and describe them. It's just...it's nice.

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Anyway, I'm thinking I might make this a regular thing. I like talking about fics I like!!! Send me an ask or whatever if you have types of recs you want to see? Idk?

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE FISHERMAN AND THE JINNI

@the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @thealmightyemprex @princesssarisa @professorlehnsherr-almashy

It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that there was a fisherman well stricken in years who had a wife and three children, and withal was of poor condition. Now it was his custom to cast his net every day four times, and no more. On a day he went forth about noontide to the seashore, where he laid down his basket and, tucking up his shirt and plunging into the water, made a cast with his net and waited till it settled to the bottom. Then he gathered the cords together and haled away at it, but found it weighty. And however much he drew it landward, he could not pull it up, so he carried the ends ashore and drove a stake into the ground and made the net fast to it. Then he stripped and dived into the water all about the net, and left not off working hard until he had brought it up.

  He rejoiced thereat and, donning his clothes, went to the net, when he found in it a dead jackass which had torn the meshes. Now when he saw it, he exclaimed in his grief, "There is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah the Glorious, the Great!" Then quoth he, "This is a strange manner of daily bread," and he began reciting in extempore verse:

   "O toiler through the glooms of night in peril and in pain,    Thy toiling stint for daily bread comes not by might and main!    Seest thou not the fisher seek afloat upon the sea    His bread, while glimmer stars of night as set in tangled skein?    Anon he plungeth in despite the buffet of the waves,    The while to sight the bellying net his eager glances strain,    Till joying at the night's success, a fish he bringeth home    Whose gullet by the hook of Fate was caught and cut in twain.    When buys that fish of him a man who spent the hours of night    Reckless of cold and wet and gloom in ease and comfort fain,    Laud to the Lord who gives to this, to that denies, his wishes    And dooms one toil and catch the prey and other eat the fishes."

Then quoth he, "Up and to it. I am sure of His beneficence, Inshallah!" So he continued:

     "When thou art seized of Evil Fate, assume      The noble soul's long-suffering. 'Tis thy best.      Complain not to the creature, this be 'plaint      From one most Ruthful to the ruthlessest."

  The fisherman, when he had looked at the dead ass, got it free of the toils and wrung out and spread his net. Then he plunged into the sea, saying, "In Allah's name!" and made a cast and pulled at it, but it grew heavy and settled down more firmly than the first time.

Now he thought that there were fish in it, and he made it fast and, doffing his clothes, went into the water, and dived and haled until he drew it up upon dry land. Then found he in it a large earthern pitcher which was full of sand and mud, and seeing this, he was greatly troubled. So he prayed pardon of Allah and, throwing away the jar, wrung his net and cleansed it and returned to the sea the third time to cast his net, and waited till it had sunk. Then he pulled at it and found therein potsherds and broken glass. Then, raising his eyes heavenward, he said:

"O my God! Verily Thou wettest that I cast not my net each day save four times. The third is done and as yet Thou hast vouchsafed me nothing. So this time, O my God, deign give me my daily bread."

  Then, having called on Allah's name, he again threw his net and waited its sinking and settling, whereupon he haled at it but could not draw it in for that it was entangled at the bottom. He cried out in his vexation, "There is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah!" and he began reciting:

     "Fie on this wretched world, an so it be      I must be whelmed by grief and misery.      Tho' gladsome be man's lot when dawns the morn,      He drains the cup of woe ere eve he see.      Yet was I one of whom the world when asked      'Whose lot is happiest?' would say, ''Tis he!'"

  Thereupon he stripped and, diving down to the net, busied himself with it till it came to land.

Then he opened the meshes and found therein a cucumber-shaped jar of yellow copper, evidently full of something, whose mouth was made fast with a leaden cap stamped with the seal ring of our Lord Solomon, son of David (Allah accept the twain!). Seeing this, the fisherman rejoiced and said, "If I sell it in the brass bazaar, 'tis worth ten golden dinars."

He shook it, and finding it heavy, continued:

"Would to Heaven I knew what is herein. But I must and will open it and look to its contents and store it in my bag and sell it in the brass market."

And taking out a knife, he worked at the lead till he had loosened it from the jar.

Then he laid the cup on the ground and shook the vase to pour out whatever might be inside.

He found nothing in it, whereat he marveled with an exceeding marvel.

But presently there came forth from the jar a smoke which spired heavenward into ether (whereat he again marveled with mighty marvel), and which trailed along earth's surface till presently, having reached its full height, the thick vapor condensed, and became an Ifrit huge of bulk, whose crest touched the clouds while his feet were on the ground.

His head was as a dome, his hands like pitchforks, his legs long as masts, and his mough big as a cave. His teeth were like large stones, his nostrils ewers, his eyes two lamps, and his look was fierce and lowering.

  Now when the fisherman saw the Ifrit, his side muscles quivered, his teeth chattered, his spittle dried up, and he became blind about what to do.

Upon this the Ifrit looked at him and cried, "there is no god but the God, and Solomon is the prophet of God," presently adding:

"O Apostle of Allah, slay me not. Never again will I gainsay thee in word nor sin against thee in deed."

Quoth the fisherman, "O Marid, diddest thou say Solomon the Apostle of Allah? And Solomon is dead some thousand and eight hundred years ago, and we are now in the last days of the world! What is thy story, and what is thy account of thyself, and what is the cause of thy entering into this cucurbit?"

  Now when the Evil Spirit heard the words of the fisherman, quoth he: "There is no god but the God. Be of good cheer, O Fisherman!" Quoth the fisherman, "Why biddest thou me to be of good cheer?" And he replied, "Because of thy having to die an ill death in this very hour."

Said the fisherman, "Thou deservest for thy good tidings the withdrawal of Heaven's protection, O thou distant one! Wherefore shouldest thou kill me, and what thing have I done to deserve death, I who freed thee from the jar, and saved thee from the depths of the sea, and brought thee up on the dry land?"

Replied the Ifrit, "Ask of me only what mode of death thou wilt die, and by what manner of slaughter shall I slay thee."

Rejoined the fisherman, "What is my crime, and wherefore such retribution?"

Quoth the Ifrit, "Hear my story, O Fisherman!"

And he answered, "Say on, and be brief in thy sayinig, for of very sooth my life breath is in my nostrils."

  Thereupon quoth the Jinni:

"Know that I am one among the heretical Jann, and I sinned against Solomon, David-son (on the twain be peace!), I together with the famous Sakhr al-Jinni, whereupon the Prophet sent his Minister, Asaf son of Barkhiya, to seize me. And this Wazir brought me against my will and led me in bonds to him (I being downcast despite my nose), and he placed me standing before him like a suppliant. When Solomon saw me, he took refuge with Allah and bade me embrace the True Faith and obey his behests. But I refused, so, sending for this cucurbit, he shut me up therein and stopped it over with lead, whereon he impressed the Most High Name, and gave his orders to the Jann, who carried me off and cast me into the midmost of the ocean. There I abode a hundred years, during which I said in my heart, 'Whoso shall release me, him will I enrich forever and ever.'

  "But the full century went by and, when no one set me free, I entered upon the second fivescore saying, 'Whoso shall release me, for him I will open the hoards of the earth.' Still no one set me free, and thus four hundred years passed away. Then quoth I, 'Whoso shall release me, for him will I fulfill three wishes.' Yet no one set me free. Thereupon I waxed wroth with exceeding wrath and said to myself, 'Whoso shall release me from this time forth, him will I slay, and I will give him choice of what death he will die.' And now, as thou hast released me, I give thee full choice of deaths."

  The fisherman, hearing the words of the Ifrit, said, "O Allah! The wonder of it that I have not come to free thee save in these days!" adding, "Spare my life, so Allah spare thine, and slay me not, lest Allah set one to slay thee."

Replied the Contumacious One, "There is no help for it. Die thou must, so ask by way of boon what manner of death thou wilt die." Albeit thus certified, the fisherman again addressed the Ifrit, saying, "Forgive me this my death as a generous reward for having freed thee," and the Ifrit, "Surely I would not slay thee save on account of that same release." "O Chief of the Ifrits," said the fisherman, "I do thee good and thou requitest me with evil! In very sooth the old saw lieth not when it saith:

     "We wrought them weal, they met our weal with ill,      Such, by my life! is every bad man's labor.      To him who benefits unworthy wights      Shall hap what hapt to Ummi-Amir's neighbor."

  Now when the Ifrit heard these words he answered:

"No more of this talk. Needs must I kill thee."

Upon this the fisherman said to himself:

"This is a Jinni, and I am a man to whom Allah hath given a passably cunning wit, so I will now cast about to compass his destruction by my contrivance and by mine intelligence, even as he took counsel only of his malice and his frowardness."

He began by asking the Ifrit, "Hast thou indeed resolved to kill me?" And, receiving for all answer "Even so," he cried,

"Now in the Most Great Name, graven on the seal ring of Solomon the son of David (peace be with the holy twain!), an I question thee on a certain matter, wilt thou give me a true answer?"

The Ifrit replied "Yea," but, hearing mention of the Most Great Name, his wits were troubled and he said with trembling, "Ask and be brief."

  Quoth the fisherman:

"How didst thou fit into this bottle which would not hold thy hand- no, nor even thy foot- and how came it to be large enough to contain the whole of thee?"

Replied the Ifrit, "What! Dost not believe that I was all there?"

And the fisherman rejoined,

"Nay! I will never believe it until I see thee inside with my own eyes." The Evil Spirit on the instant shook and became a vapor, which condensed and entered the jar little and little, till all was well inside, when lo! the fisherman in hot haste took the leaden cap with the seal and stoppered therewith the mouth of the jar and called out to the Ifrit, saying:

"Ask me by way of boon what death thou wilt die! By Allah, I will throw thee into the sea before us and here will I build me a lodge, and whoso cometh hither I will warn him against fishing and will say: 'In these waters abideth an Ifrit who giveth as a last favor a choice of deaths and fashion of slaughter to the man who saveth him!"'

  Now when the Ifrit heard this from the fisherman and saw himself in limbo, he was minded to escape, but this was prevented by Solomon's seal.

So he knew that the fisherman had cozened and outwitted him, and he waxed lowly and submissive and began humbly to say,

"I did but jest with thee."

But the other answered,

"Thou liest, O vilest of the Ifrits, and meanest and filthiest!"

And he set off with the bottle for the seaside, the Ifrit calling out, "Nay! Nay!" and he calling out, "Aye! Aye!"

Thereupon the Evil Spirit softened his voice and smoothed his speech and abased himself, saying,

"What wouldest thou do with me. O Fisherman?"

"I will throw thee back into the sea," he answered,

"Where thou hast been housed and homed for a thousand and eight hundred years. And now I will leave thee therein till Judgment Day. Did I not say to thee, `Spare me and Allah shall spare thee, and slay me not lest Allah slay thee'? yet thou spurnedst my supplication and hadst no intention save to deal ungraciously by me, and Allah hath now thrown thee into my hands, and I am cunninger that thou." Quoth the Ifrit,

"Open for me that I may bring thee weal."

Quoth the fisherman:

"Thou liest, thou accursed! Nothing would satisfy thee save my death, so now I will do thee die by hurling thee into this sea."

Then the Marid roared aloud and cried:

"Allah upon thee, O Fisherman, don't! Spare me, and pardon my past doings, and as I have been tyrannous, so be thou generous, for it is said among sayings that go current: 'O thou who doest good to him who hath done thee evil, suffice for the ill-doer his ill deeds, and do not deal with me as did Umamah to 'Atikah.'"

  Asked the fisherman, "And what was their case?"

And the Ifrit answered,

"This is not the time for storytelling and I in this prison, but set me free and I will tell thee the tale."

Quoth the fisherman:

"Leave this language. There is no help but that thou be thrown back into the sea, nor is there any way for thy getting out of it forever and ever. Vainly I placed myself under thy protection, and I humbled myself to thee with weeping, while thou soughtest only to slay me, who had done thee no injury deserving this at thy hands. Nay, so far from injuring thee by any evil act, I worked thee naught but weal in releasing thee from that jail of thine. Now I knew thee to be an evil-doer when thou diddest to me what thou didst, and know that when I have cast thee back into this sea, I will warn whosoever may fish thee up of what hath befallen me with thee, and I will advise him to toss thee back again. So shalt thou abide here under these waters till The End of Time shall make an end of thee."

But the Ifrit cried aloud:

"Set me free. This is a noble occasion for generosity, and I make covenant with thee and vow never to do thee hurt and harm- nay, I will help thee to what shall put thee out of want."

  The fisherman accepted his promises on both conditions, not to trouble him as before, but on the contrary to do him service, and after making firm the plight and swearing him a solemn oath by Allah Most Highest, he opened the cucurbit.

Thereupon the pillar of smoke rose up till all of it was fully out, then it thickened and once more became an Ifrit of hideous presence, who forthright administered a kick to the bottle and sent it flying into the sea.

The fisherman, seeing how the cucurbit was treated and making sure of his own death, piddled in his clothes and said to himself,

"This promiseth badly," but he fortified his heart, and cried:

"O Ifrit, Allah hath said: 'Perform your covenant, for the performance of your covenant shall be inquired into hereafter.' Thou hast made a vow to me and hast sworn an oath not to play me false lest Allah play thee false, for verily He is a jealous God who respiteth the sinner but letteth him not escape. I say to thee as said the Sage Duban to King Yunan, 'Spare me so Allah may spare thee!'"

The Ifrit burst into laughter and stalked away, saying to the fisherman, "Follow me."

  And the man paced after him at a safe distance (for he was not assured of escape) till they had passed round the suburbs of the city. Thence they struck into the uncultivated grounds and, crossing them, descended into a broad wilderness, and lo! in the midst of it stood a mountain tarn.

The Ifrit waded in to the middle and again cried, "Follow me," and when this was done he took his stand in the center and bade the man cast his net and catch his fish.

The fisherman looked into the water and was much astonished to see therein varicolored fishes, white and red, blue and yellow. However, he cast his net and, hauling it in, saw that he had netted four fishes, one of each color.

Thereat he rejoiced greatly, and more when the Ifrit said to him: "Carry these to the Sultan and set them in his presence, then he will give thee what shall make thee a wealthy man. And now accept my excuse, for by Allah, at this time I wot none other way of benefiting thee, inasmuch I have lain in this sea eighteen hundred years and have not seen the face of the world save within this hour. But I would not have thee fish here save once a day."

The Ifrit then gave him Godspeed, saying, "Allah grant we meet again," and struck the earth with one foot, whereupon the ground clove asunder and swallowed him up.

  The fisherman, much marveling at what had happened to him with the Ifrit, took the fish and made for the city, and as soon as he reached home he filled an earthen bowl with water and therein threw the fish, which began to struggle and wriggle about.

Then he bore off the bowl upon his head and, repairing to the King's palace (even as the Ifrit had bidden him) laid the fish before the presence. And the King wondered with exceeding wonder at the sight, for never in his lifetime had he seen fishes like these in quality or in conformation.

So he said, "Give those fish to the stranger slave girl who now cooketh for us," meaning the bondmaiden whom the King of Roum had sent to him only three days before, so that he had not yet made trial of her talents in the dressing of meat.

  Thereupon the Wazir carried the fish to the cook and bade her fry them, saying: "O damsel, the King sendeth this say to thee: 'I have not treasured thee, O tear o' me! save for stress time of me.' Approve, then, to us this day thy delicate handiwork and thy savory cooking, for this dish of fish is a present sent to the Sultan and evidently a rarity."

The Wazir, after he had carefully charged her, returned to the King, who commanded him to give the fisherman four hundred dinars. He gave them accordingly, and the man took them to his bosom and ran off home stumbling and falling and rising again and deeming the whole thing to be a dream.

However, he bought for his family all they wanted, and lastly he went to his wife in huge joy and gladness. So far concerning him.

  But as regards the cookmaid, she took the fish and cleansed them and set them in the frying pan, basting them with oil till one side was dressed.

Then she turned them over and behold, the kitchen wall clave asunder, and therefrom came a young lady, fair of form, oval of face, perfect in grace, with eyelids which kohl lines enchase. Her dress was a silken headkerchief fringed and tasseled with blue.

A large ring hung from either ear, a pair of bracelets adorned her wrists, rings with bezels of priceless gems were on her fingers, and she hent in hand a long rod of rattan cane which she thrust into the frying pan, saying, "O fish! O fish! Be ye constant to your convenant?" When the cookmaiden saw this apparition she swooned away.

The young lady repeated her words a second time and a third time, and at last the fishes raised their heads from the pan, and saying in articulate speech, "Yes! Yes!" began with one voice to recite:

     "Come back and so will I! Keep faith and so will I!      And if ye fain forsake, I'll requite till quits we cry!"

  After this the young lady upset the frying pan and went forth by the way she came in and the kitchen wall closed upon her. When the cookmaiden recovered from her fainting fit, she saw the four fishes charred black as charcoal, and crying out, "His staff brake in his first bout," she again fell swooning to the ground.

Whilst she was in this case the Wazir came for the fish, and looking upon her as insensible she lay, not knowing Sunday from Thursday, shoved her with his foot and said, "Bring the fish for the Sultan!"

Thereupon, recovering from her fainting fit, she wept and informed him of her case and all that had befallen her. The Wazir marveled greatly and exclaiming, "This is none other than a right strange matter!" he sent after the fisher-man and said to him, "Thou, O Fisherman, must needs fetch us four fishes like those thou broughtest before."

  Thereupon the man repaired to the tarn and cast his net, and when he landed it, lo! four fishes were therein exactly like the first. These he at once carried to the Wazir, who went in with them to the cookmaiden and said, "Up with thee and fry these in my presence, that I may see this business."

The damsel arose and cleansed the fish, and set them in the frying pan over the fire. However, they remained there but a little while ere the wall clave asunder and the young lady appeared, clad as before and holding in hand the wand which she again thrust into the frying pan, saying, "O fish! O fish! Be ye constant to your olden convenant?" And behold, the fish lifted their heads and repeated "Yes! Yes!" and recited this couplet:

     "Come back and so will I! Keep faith and so will I!      But if ye fain forsake, I'll requite till quits we cry!"

  When the fishes spoke, and the young lady upset the frying pan with her rod and went forth by the way she came and the wall closed up, the Wazir cried out, "This is a thing not to be hidden from the King."

So he went and told him what had happened, whereupon quoth the King said, "There is no help for it but that I see this with mine own eyes!"

Then he sent for the fisherman and commanded him to bring four other fish like the first and to take with him three men as witnesses. The fisherman at once brought the fish, and the King, after ordering them to give him four hundred gold pieces, turned to the Wazir and said, "Up, and fry me the fishes here before me!"

The Minister, replying, "To hear is to obey," bade bring the frying pan, threw therein the cleansed fish, and set it over the fire, when lo! the wall clave asunder, and out burst a black slave like a huge rock or a remnant of the tribe Ad, bearing in hand a branch of a green tree. And he cried in loud and terrible tones,

"O fish! O fish! Be ye an constant to your antique convenant?" Whereupon the fishes lifted their heads from the frying pan and said, "Yes! Yes! We be true to our vow," and they again recited the couplet:

     "Come back and so will I! Keep faith and so will I!      But if ye fain forsake, I'll requite till quits we cry!"

  Then the huge blackamoor approached the frying pan and upset it with the branch and went forth by the way he came in.

When he vanished from their sight, the King inspected the fish, and finding them all charred black as charcoal, was utterly bewildered, and said to the Wazir: "Verily this is a matter whereanent silence cannot be kept. And as for the fishes, assuredly some marvelous adventure connects with them."

So he bade bring the fisherman and asked him, saying: "Fie on thee, fellow! Whence come these fishes?"

And he answered, "From a tarn between four heights lying behind this mountain which is in sight of thy city."

Quoth the King, "How many days' march?"

Quoth he, "O our Lord the Sultan, a walk of half-hour."

The King wondered, and straightway ordering his men to march and horsemen to mount, led off the fisherman, who went before as guide, privily damning the Ifrit.

  They fared on till they had climbed the mountain and descended unto a great desert which they had never seen during all their lives. And the Sultan and his merry men marveled much at the wold set in the midst of four mountains, and the tarn and its fishes of four colors, red and white, yellow and blue.

The King stood fixed to the spot in wonderment and asked his troops and an present, "Hath anyone among you ever seen this piece of water before now?"

And all made answer, "O King of the Age, never did we set eyes upon it during an our days."

They also questioned the oldest inhabitants they met, men well stricken in years, but they replied, each and every, "A lakelet like this we never saw in this place."

Thereupon quoth the King, "By Allah, I will neither return to my capital nor sit upon the throne of my forebears till I learn the truth about this tarn and the fish therein."

  He then ordered his men to dismount and bivouac all around the mountain, which they did, and summoning his Wazir, a Minister of much experience, sagacious, of penetrating wit and well versed in affairs, said to him:

"'Tis in my mind to do a certain thing, whereof I will inform thee. My heart telleth me to fare forth alone this night and root out the mystery of this tarn and its fishes. Do thou take thy scat at my tent door, and say to the emirs and wazirs, the nabobs and the chamberlains, in fine, to all who ask thee, 'The Sultan is ill at ease, and he hath ordered me to refuse all admittance.' And be careful thou let none know my design."

And the Wazir could not oppose him. Then the King changed his dress and ornaments and, slinging his sword over his shoulder, took a path which led up one of the mountains and marched for the rest of the night till morning dawned, nor did he cease wayfaring till the heat was too much for him.

After his long walk he rested for a while, and then resumed his march and fared on through the second night till dawn, when suddenly there appeared a black point in the far distance.

Hereat he rejoiced and said to himself, "Haply someone here shall acquaint me with the mystery of the tarn and its fishes."

  Presently, drawing near the dark object, he found it a palace built of swart stone plated with iron, and while one leaf of the gate stood wide-open, the other was shut. The King's spirits rose high as he stood before the gate and rapped a light rap, but hearing no answer, he knocked a second knock and a third, yet there came no sign.

Then he knocked his loudest, but still no answer, so he said, "Doubtless 'tis empty."

There upon he mustered up resolution and boldly walked through the main gate into the great hall, and there cried out aloud: "Holloa, ye people of the palace! I am a stranger and a wayfarer. Have you aught here of victual?"

He repeated his cry a second time and a third, but still there came no reply.

  So, strengthening his heart and making up his mind, he stalked through the vestibule into the very middle of the palace, and found no man in it.

Yet it was furnished with silken stuffs gold-starred, and the hangings were let down over the doorways. In the midst was a spacious court off which sat four open saloons, each with its raised dais, saloon facing saloon.

A canopy shaded the court, and in the center was a jetting fount with four figures of lions made of red gold, spouting from their mouths water clear as pearls and diaphanous gems.

Round about the palace birds were let loose, and over it stretched a net of golden wire, hindering them from flying off. In brief, there was everything but human beings.

The King marveled mightily thereat, yet felt he sad at heart for that he saw no one to give him an account of the waste and its tarn, the fishes, the mountains, and the palace itself.

Presently as he sat between the doors in deep thought behold, there came a voice of lament, as from a heart griefspent, and he heard the voice chanting these verses:

   "I hid what I endured of him and yet it came to light,    And nightly sleep mine eyelids fled and changed to sleepless night.    O world! O Fate! Withhold thy hand and cease thy hurt and harm    Look and behold my hapless sprite in dolor and affright.    Wilt ne'er show ruth to highborn youth who lost him on the way    Of Love, and fell from wealth and fame to lowest basest wight?    Jealous of Zephyr's breath was I as on your form he breathed,    But whenas Destiny descends she blindeth human sight.    What shall the hapless archer do who when he fronts his foe    And bends his bow to shoot the shaft shall find his string undight?    When cark and care so heavy bear on youth of generous soul,    How shall he 'scape his lot and where from Fate his place of flight?"

  Now when the Sultan heard the mournful voice he sprang to his feet and following the sound, found a curtain let down over a chamber door.

He raised it and saw behind it a young man sitting upon a couch about a cubit above the ground, and he fair to the sight, a well-shaped wight, with eloquence dight.

His forehead was flower-white, his cheek rosy bright, and a mole on his cheek breadth like an ambergris mite, even as the poet doth indite:

     "A youth slim-waisted from whose locks and brow      The world in blackness and in light is set.      Throughout Creation's round no fairer show      No rarer sight thine eye hath ever met.      A nut-brown mole sits throned upon a cheek      Of rosiest red beneath an eye of jet."

  The King rejoiced and saluted him, but he remained sitting in his caftan of silken stuff purfled with Egyptian gold and his crown studded with gems of sorts.

But his face was sad with the traces of sorrow. He returned the royal salute in most courteous wise adding, "O my lord, thy dignity demandeth my rising to thee, and my sole excuse is to crave thy pardon."

Quoth the King: "Thou art excused, O youth, so look upon me as thy guest come hither on an especial object. I would thou acquaint me with the secrets of this tarn and its fishes and of this palace and thy loneliness therein and the cause of thy groaning and wailing."

When the young man heard these words he wept with sore weeping till his bosom was drenched with tears.

The King marveled and asked him, "What maketh thee weep, O young man?" and he answered, "How should I not weep, when this is my case!"

Thereupon he put out his hand and raised the skirt of his garment, when lo! the lower half of him appeared stone down to his feet while from his navel to the hair of his head he was man.

The King, seeing this his plight, grieved with sore grief and of his compassion cried:

"Alack and wellaway! In very sooth, O youth, thou heapest sorrow upon my sorrow. I was minded to ask thee the mystery of the fishes only, whereas now I am concerned to learn thy story as well as theirs. But there is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great! Lose no time, O youth, but tell me forthright thy whole tale."

Quoth he, "Lend me thine ears, thy sight, and thine insight."

And quoth the King, "All are at thy service!"

  Thereupon the youth began, "Right wondrous and marvelous is my case and that of these fishes, and were it graven with gravers upon the eye corners it were a warner to whoso would be warned."

"How is that?" asked the King, and the young man began to tell...

[abysscronica]

Hi! I noticed that many people compare Luffy and Kid about personality and actions and many say that Kid is like an angry unlucky version of Luffy. Luffy had his struggles during his young life too but he was never mean towards others so I thought that Kid must have passed through some heavy stuff (with Killer and the others too since they act all in the same way basically) to became a bloodthirsty and cruel pirate, even without reason.

I wanted to ask you if you ever wondered about his past and if you have personal theories, not just the part related to Victoria's story, but also the one that maybe made him so suspicious and angry towards the world.

Thank you if you'll answer!

Okay, let's talk about this a little bit.

Considerations on Eustass Kid's character

Blaming Kid's cruelty on his traumatic past without taking into account One Piece logic or how Oda does things makes no sense. You can draw from the real world when analyzing these characters, but it doesn't work if you don't put everything in their own world's context. I've seen this done a lot here on tumblr, especially for Kid and Doflamingo, but let's focus on Kid for the sake of this ask.

Kid, together with Killer, Heat and Wire, had a horrible childhood that surely shaped them, but the truth is we have very little information about it. All we know comes from three SBS answers: Oda's drawing of them as kids, the one that first introduced Victoria as Kid and Killer's childhood crush, and the more recent one about their past. ALL the rest was inferred from it. Let's take this shot for example:

While Kid's appearance and ragged clothes are canon, the background is not. It's an interpretation by the anime staff. Did Kid live in a terrible place? Yes. We know that. Did it look like that? Possibly. No idea.

From the info we have, it looks like Kid had a worse past than Luffy. He lived in a place overrun by gangs, in poverty, where kids had no choice aside joining into the violence and try to survive. And Eustass Kid... fit well into such environment; he adapted to the point of becoming a baby-gang leader, just as Killer, Heat and Wire, and later on he even challenged the most powerful lords of the underworld and won. This doesn't diminish the hardships and suffering he went through, but it gives you an idea of his character.

Oda has played with the "nature vs. nurture" concept several times and, to be completely honest, while he absolutely doesn't discard the importance of trauma, he often leans toward the "nature" answer. The clearest example is found in Doflamingo and Rocinante. They faced the same hardships and still remained true to their original (opposite) nature. Yes, Kid has been through hell but he's hardly the only character. Nami, Sanji, Robin, Rocinante are just a few other examples - many of these arguably had it worse than Kid, and they aren't cruel nor rabid.

Even so, I don't mean to completely demolish the idea that Kid is a product of his past (although, on a personal note, I do believe that it diminishes his character). In fact, not everyone in One Piece could maintain their true nature in the face of hardship. For Oda, trauma is a trial to overcome, in a way, and there's not always a clear-cut direct answer as we see with the Strawhats, for example. One example over all is Law: he represents a case where trauma did break his nature for a while, until he had a chance to restore it (through Corazon).

I guess you could say that Kid was never offered such chance, buuuut do you honestly believe it? See, being offered a chance is not enough, you gotta be willing to take it and change. If I had to sum up Oda's baseline on this, I would say his process is based upon two main concepts: 1) your pain does not justify your actions; 2) everyone deserves a second chance as long as they're willing to change.

Think about Orochi and Mjosgard. I've talked about them in this post.

Hey, maybe Kid missed his chance. Maybe he didn't get one at the right time. Maybe he will. If you ask me, looking at the drawing of child Kid, I think it's pretty clear what route Oda was going for him. Look at that evil little gremling at tell me I'm wrong.

Another element I have for this is that, differently from other villains, Oda never took a moral stand against Kid. Despite his big talk, Kid is an ally in both the arcs he plays a decent role in (Sabaody and Wano). Sure, he's not good, but he's not that bad either. Kid was indeed meant to be a dark parallel of Luffy, a rival even. Too bad Oda just toyed with this interesting idea but never fully engaged with it. We know that the supernova were something he came up with overnight, they weren't planned until the last second, therefore there was no major role for them to play in the grand scheme of OP. Oda went with his whims for these characters (and I suspect the editors' *suggestions*, which are very much based on fan opinions), until he tried to jam as many of them as possible in Wano, with poor results. Kid, Drake, Apoo, Hawkins, heck, even Law... all their storylines in the arc are terrible. Incredibly, Killer is the one that got away with the best one, in my opinion. Especially in Kid's case, reading Wano felt like Oda was desperately trying to give him a role, and failed at it over and over. Eventually he just gave up and wrote his backstory down in the SBS, here, no point in trying further. I wonder whether he'll ever go back to this character and finally delve into him a little more, maybe give some closure to his arc. I certainly hope so, but who knows?

(I'm also not a fan of what Oda did with Kid after the timeskip, he was dumbed down a lot and part of his charm was forgotten, but oh well)

As for my personal theories on Kid's past, I do like to think that his family was caught up in the South Blue sweep for Ace's mother. It would click in so well with his character and the speech he gave at the slave auction in Sabaody.

That said, none of this takes away from my love for the character. Eustass Kid is and always will be my number one man.

[not-quite-girl-nor-quite-boy]

So here we are at whumptober day 3, day 4 will arrive in a few hours, im trying to catch up and i will.

Whumptober day 3- hair's breadth from death:

"Yeah, but like why?" Merlin asked complaining.

"Because, merlin, I said so. And if I have to suffer through these ridiculous trade agreements then so do you." Arthur said while lowering his arms with his shirt now on. Merlin sighed dramatically.

"Alright then, let's go. Get it over with." Merlin mumbled that last part under his breath and with Arthur growing tired of merlin blatantly ignoring the fact that he was supposed to give the orders, he stayed silent besides he was too busy mentally preparing himself for the dreadfully boring day ahead of him to care. They meandered into the hall and as usual, it was dull and tiring. Merlin was phasing in and out of interest, as usual, focusing on everything and anything that wasn't what they were talking about. 'Honestly, the lords complaining about the candle going out while the rest of the country is on fire. It's ridiculous.' Merlin thought to himself, he was quickly pulled from his thoughts by a sharp feeling running through his shoulder. It was agonising, but he couldn't make a scene so he decided to try and keep his composure.

But unfortunately, the pain became too much the only comfort he felt was the sound of Arthur's voice. That's it!

"Arthur." He said shockingly calmy, a small quiver arriving at the end of the word.

"Not now merlin." He replied before returning to his conversation with the round table knights.

"Arthur!" He said again, this time allowing a fraction of the pain he was in to flood through in his voice. He turned around quickly looking angry until he saw what was behind his manservant.

"Merlin!" He said shocked, shocked at the sight of the tall man standing behind merlin, shocked at the sight of the knife he was holding to merlins throat that was already bloody to the hilt though seemingly not from his neck, shocked truly to see an all but waterfall of blood pouring from his shoulder where he seemingly had been stabbed clean through. But shocked mostly because Merlin had been so quiet in attracting his attention.

The knights all stood drawing their swords and pointing them at the perpetrator accusingly.

"What do you want?" Arthur demanded standing and trying to remain calm enough to negotiate merlin's safety.

"Well honestly I wanted the boy to scream, thought it would make a more dramatic entrance, but the boy has a high pain tolerance!" He said smugly looking down at merlins face. He refused to show any fear only allowing his face to emit disgust. "And a pretty high fear tolerance too! What do you do to him?" He laughed. The knights all looked at each other confused and upset as well as concerned before focusing again on the task at hand. Arthur looked at merlin again noticing the lack of fear, mostly pain but even that was lesser than it should be. His train of thought was interrupted by the continuation of the man.

"But currently I want the knights to drop their swords and any pointy objects and go against the wall." The dark figure said from his stance behind a now greyer-looking merlin, his visage faltering as he looked more scared and pained than before. Arthur's attention was drawn to a familiar figure in his peripheral moving slowly back and then towards the man. Arthur had to stall was all.

"Ok. Do it," Arthur commanded. The knights looked at him questioning his certainty before he nodded to them all once telling them it was the right thing and that he had a plan. They all went against the wall willingly, all of them noticing and conveniently not mentioning the lack of a certain member of the group. The tall man stepped forward dragging, really more forcing merlin into step with him. Merlin rolled his eyes to the edge of their sockets trying to crane his vision to catch a glimpse of his attacker however also fighting to stay conscious and fighting hard against his drooping eyelids and his greying complexion told the knights all they needed to know. They all went against the wall willingly to not get merlin hurt. They all had learned to care deeply for the kind dopey servant. Since he had arrived in Camelot he had been a kind friend and a nice person, always willing to lend a hand or give help never wanting for anything in return, it did little to say they all loved merlin a large amount, while to others he may be "just a servant" to them he was a brother, and they would each defends him with their lives.

Merlin could feel himself weakening. He felt his blood pouring out of him into his shirt and the warm sticky fluid dripping down his chest and arm. His eyelids were getting heavier and his limbs were becoming limper.

"We'll do what you want but he looks like he is about to pass out, let him go," Arthur said trying to buy more time.

"Not tod-" he stopped as he collapsed to the ground bleeding and unconscious. Gwaine towered over him reaching his arms out to merlin who looked as if he was about to follow his example.

"I gotcha, I gotcha merlin don't worry." He said leaning the bleeding boy into his chest.

"Thank you," Merlin mumbled into Gwaine's shoulder while the other knights came running toward them. Gwaine chuckled slightly

"S'alright merls. I've gotcha." He said lovingly. Holding him tight as he went on to pass out in Gwaine's arms.

"Good job gwaine, he needs guais," Arthur said taking in merlin's condition sadly. It was his fault he was there. He forced him to come. This wouldn't have happened if he had let him do a menial task and not been so petty.

"Come on!" He shouted running ahead to prepare guias for his oncoming patient. Gwaine followed close after slowing only to reposition merlin to aid his comfort. They arrived in guais' chamber which for some ungodly, unfathomable reason was in a tower, (which meant lots of carrying for gwaine) to see guias moving potions and Arthur standing idly biting his thumbnail nervously.

"Set him down here," Guais said gesturing to the patient's cot. Gwaine did as he was told laying merlin's limp form down on the uncomfortable-looking bed.

"Oh god, hes a hairs breadth from death! I need you all out," Guais said flatly tearing merlins shirt open to better evaluate the wound.

An assortment of "no!", and "are you crazy?" And "not a chance."'s later and guais explained that he didn't have time to ask them to move every time he needed something from a shelf across the room as in a situation like this time is of the essence meaning he really didn't have time to explain this to them later, and the knights were gathered in the hallway in front of his chamber door, all lined up leaning against the wall save arthur who was pacing back and forth in front of the door thinking to himself, more just over think about what hed do to himself if merlin didnt make it out of this ok. He stopped himself their refusing to even consider that possiblitly. It wasnt even a possibilty, he told himself, guais is an amazing physician, he has been for years. Merlin will be fine. Merlin will be fine, he ricited it to himself refusing to even consider any possibility that varies from that.

None of them knew how long it had been, it could have been minutes or weeks but eventually guais came out, his hands slightly bloodstained despite him wiping them off on an old rag he was holding.

"Hes going to be ok. Hes tired and in pain and he wont be awake ling but you can see him if youd like." Guais explained. They all nodded but none of them knew what they were planning to say. They walked in slowly.

"Hey merlin." Leon said quietly.

"How are you feeling buddy?" Elyan said in a gently quiet voice.

"Oh god. Im fine! Dont talk to me like that. Just have a normal conversation with me." The knights all smilled at each other exchanging glances that communicating that merlin would be fine.

"We know who he was or why he was here yet?" Merlin asked swallowing an entire goblet of water as he asked.

"The guards woke him, apparently a freezing cold bucket of water was involved," they all snickered and merlin smiled smugly. "Im not complaining. But anyway he said a pale lady with dark hair asked him to take revenge on the kingdom that destroyed his village."

"What?!" Arthur and merlin said at the same time.

"It was almost ten years ago sire! It was under Uther's rule. It had nothing to do with you, we all know he was a much less... delicate King?" Elyan said trying to explain the situation to his king.

"Indeed. 'Delicacy' was never his strong suit. Anyway the traitor shall he executed at dawn."

"What, no!" Merlin shouted looking tired. They all looked at him seeming shocked and confused while also worried.

"No one is killing anyone. I understand that he hurt me so you guys are going to get overprotective but he was trying to avenge his fanily and he didnt understand that the man thay did it was long dead. But while what he did was wrong and... painful He was trying to do something good for his family. No one dies! Understand me?" He commanded angrily his eyes drooping closed as he spoke, yawns breaching his words.

"Ok merlin. I dissagree because he hurt you, but if its what you want then alright." Arthur said.

"Good. Well im tired so go away." He said already lying down and eyes closed. They all smiled happily and walked out quietly. He was gonna be ok

[tarnishedhalo]

Headcanon meme C - Caregiver

Word Association || - “Shhh,” he murmurs as he cradles her head against his chest. It’s so much better when she can feel his heartbeat, knows that he is like a mountain; solid and unbending, eternal from the moment it rises. Her skin is clammy and her eyes are feverishly bright. She’s been sick for the last three days and now she’s simply exhausted but everything still hurts. He knows this like he knows an old enemy, it happens whenever she has to change from one cycle of meds to the other. One part of him would gladly bear the brunt of her disorder if it meant giving her peace, another is thankful to the Lord above that he doesn’t have to suffer like this, he’d not have lasted this long. Beth whimpers as he sponges her brow with the damp washcloth, then wipes some residual gross from near the corner of her mouth. She burrows deeper into him while tightening her arms around his waist. As minutes crawl by like years he gets her to take small sips of water then waits to see if she can hold them down. She doesn’t put up much of a fight so he draws her blanket and tucks it in around her. He makes his voice as soft as possible while still being audible. “Where were we?” Tears leak from his sister’s eyes. He nods. He picks up the story exactly where they’d left off, each page indelibly etched into his memory. “Power was flowing up from Inigo’s heart to his right shoulder and down from his shoulders to his fingers and then into the great six-fingered sword and he pushed off from the wall then, with a whispered ‘...hello…my name is…Inigo Montoya; you killed….my father; prepare to die.’ And they crossed swords. The Count went for the quick kill, the inverse Bonetti. No Chance.  ‘Hello…my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father…prepare to die…’ And they crossed, and the Count moved into a Morozzo defense, because the blood was still streaming. Inigo shoved his fist deeper into himself. ‘Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father; prepare to die.’ The Count retreated around the billiard table. Inigo slipped in his own blood. The count continued to retreat, waiting, waiting. “ ‘Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father, prepare to die.’ He dug with his fist and he didn’t want to think what he was touching and pushing and holding into place but for the first time he felt able to try a move, so the six-fingered sword flashed forward -- --and there was a cut down one side of Count Rugen’s cheek-- --another flash-- --another cut, parallel, bleeding. ‘Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father, prepare to die.’ ‘Stop saying that!’ The Count was beginning to experience a decline of nerve. Inigo drove for the Count’s left shoulder, as the Count had wounded his. Then he went through the Count’s left arm, at the same spot the Count had penetrated his. ‘Hello’ Stronger now. ‘Hello! HELLO. MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA. YOU KILLED MY FATHER. PREPARE TO DIE! “ ‘No--’ ‘Offer me money--’ ‘Everything,’ the Count said. ‘Power too. Promise me that.’ ‘All I have and more. Please.’ ‘Offer me anything I ask for.’ ‘Yes. Yes. Say it.’ ‘I WANT DOMINGO MONTOYA, YOU SON OF A BITCH,’ and the six-fingered sword flashed again. The Count screamed. ‘That was just to the left of your heart.’ Inigo struck again. Another scream. “That was below your heart. Can you guess what I’m doing’ ‘Cutting my heart out.’ ‘You took mine when I was ten; I want yours now. We are lovers of justice, you and I--what could be more just than that?’ The Count screamed one final time then fell dead of fear. The Count’s frozen face was petrified and ashen and the blood still poured down from the parallel cuts. His eyes bulged wide, full of horror and pain. It was glorious. If you like that kind of thing.” Beth’s tiny voice entwined with his own. “Inigo loved it.” ~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Seriously, gtfo. I’m trying to die in peace.” She crosses the room and sets the tray on his night-stand, having learned years ago not to put anything in front of him when he isn’t feeling well. “Decongestant, Tylenol, orange juice ~fresh squeeze, no pulp~ an’ bes’ good chicken soup from Moishe’s. Ya nevah dyin’, ya jus’ got a cold. But I promise if ya do, I’ll make sure ya browser history deleted, an’ I’ll have Jay set dat one box in ya closet immolate before dey come for ya body.” She skirts the pile of tissues flowing out of his trash can and comes around the bed, just out of reach so he doesn’t exert himself to try and swat at her with his large and still lethal hands. Weak as he is in body, Andy has plenty of strength when he feels threatened. He’s never liked it when she’s had to take care of him; his doctors, when he can be bothered to be seen, say he makes for the worst patient even if he’s pretty to look at. She could have told them that long before they’d ever have to come into contact with him. The bed hardly dips as she slides into it and scoots her way until she’s curled around the question mark of his back. A slight arm winnows under his to wrap around his waist and she presses her forehead against him. “You don’t have to stay, Bean,” he tells her after a long silence. His breathing eases, he doesn’t sound so miserable at least. “Of course I do. Who else is gonna look aftah ya if not me? You try f’ eat da las’ nurse I try an’ hire.” That makes him laugh until he’s nearly coughing up a lung. The last person she talked into looking in on him was Cory, and he’s not having this discussion with his sister. Just like he’s not talking about the box she mentioned or really much of anything else. Eventually, he manages to sit up, and even drink a bit of the soup. He leaves the carrots behind for her. He doesn’t remember her ever catching cold from him, not once, not since she was a baby. “I feel like shit,” he murmurs. “I know, lunger. Ready t’ pick up da movie? We had jus’ got to da good part wen you fell asleep.” “Sure.” She hits the play button. “You must be Doc Holiday.” “That’s the rumour.” “Are you retired, too?” “Not me, I’m in my prime.” “Yeah, you look it.” “You must be Ringo. Look darlin’, it’s Johnny Ringo, the deadliest pistoleer since Wild Bill, they say. What do you think, darlin’, should I hate him?” “You don’t even know him.” “No, that’s true, but I don’t know. There’s just something about him. Something about the eyes. I don’t know. Reminds me of…me. No. I’m sure of it. I hate him.” “He’s just drunk.” “In Vino, Veritas.” “Age quod agis.” “Credat Judaeus Apella, non ego.” “Iuventus stultorum magister.” “In pace requiescat.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Everyone knows Riley is a soldier down to his bones, and that he’s sacrificed a good amount of it in the pursuit of his career. They make him out to be a winged vengeful angel, they make him out to be a murderer on government orders, but what everyone seems to forget is that PJs are called something else. Para-Rescue wings. That their job is to go into combat zones and rescue the wounded and the fallen, and try to make certain that everyone comes home. His father is a surgeon, his sister is a nurse-practitioner, and he himself is also a medical worker. The knowledge didn’t abandon him when he lost his leg. Riley has spent most of his life looking out for and after people, from Beth to other friends, one of whom both hates and appreciates it when Riley decides to be the biggest mother….hen. Or as he jokes about it, someone’s “fairy Squad father”. But he’s a terrible patient mostly because he can’t stand weakness or vulnerability in himself. When it comes to people in need, he’s likely to be the first person in line to take care of them, finding ways of ensuring safety and shelter even if it goes beyond what can be considered reasonable. He will rent a place for months to help a family get back on their feet, buy groceries for someone who is hungry, do minor mechanical work for a broken down car. Whatever needs taking care of, whatever he can to the best of his ability.  Riley has a particular soft spot for women and children, too.

[lumierecharity]

HOLY THURSDAY SERVICE OF WORSHIP AND PRAYER VIGIL

HOLY THURSDAY SERVICE

Priest; "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you."Congregation; "And also with you."

Priest; "Let us remember the sufferings of our Saviour this night." Congregation; "Let us never forget the price He had paid for our deliverance."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Foha_fUFRQk

ENTRANCE HYMN Here at Your table You who are humble, You who are gentle, breath taking beauty, life giving touch. We who are empty, we who are hungry, frail and unworthy, needing so much. But you've called us worthy and able to meet with You here at Your table.

Here where You serve us,  and here where You feed us, It's here that our time with You is the sweetest. Towel in hand, God serving man, here at Your table.

You who are humble, You who are gentle, breath taking beauty, life giving touch. We who are empty, we who are hungry, frail and unworthy, needing so much. But you've called us worthy and able to meet with You here at Your table.

Here where You serve us,  and here where You feed us, It's here that our time with You is the sweetest. But you've called us worthy and able to meet with You here at Your table.

Here where You serve us,  and here where You feed us, It's here that our time with You is the sweetest. Towel in hand, God serving man, here at Your table.

Holy is He, and great is His glory, Holy is He, and worthy of our praise. I stand in His presence amazed, And crown Him with worship and praise! Holy is He, Holy is He, Holy is He.

Towel in hand, God serving man, here at Your table.

CONFESSION AND PARDON

Priest; "My brothers and sister, Christ shows us His love by becoming a humble servant. Let us draw near to God and confess our sin in the truth of God's Spirit." Congregation; "Most merciful God,  we confess that often our spirit has not been that of Christ. Where we have failed to love one another as He loves us, where we have pledged loyalty to Him with our lips and then betrayed, deserted or denied Him.

Forgive us, we pray; and by Your Spirit make us faithful in every time of trial; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." SCRIPTURE LESSON

Matthew Chapter 26, verses 17 to 75

The Last Supper

17 On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?”

18 He replied, “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, ‘The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.’” 19 So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover.

20 When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve.21 And while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.”

22 They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?”

23 Jesus replied, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. 24 The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.”

25 Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, “Surely you don’t mean me, Rabbi?”

Jesus answered, “You have said so.”

26 While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.”

27 Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. 28 This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. 29 I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

30 When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.

Jesus Predicts Peter’s Denial

31 Then Jesus told them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written:

“‘I will strike the shepherd,     and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

32 But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”

33 Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.”

34 “Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

35 But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

Gethsemane

36 Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” 37 He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. 38 Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

39 Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

40 Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. 41 “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

42 He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”

43 When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. 44 So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

45 Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. 46 Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!”

Jesus Arrested

47 While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. 48 Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.” 49 Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him.

50 Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.”

Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. 51 With that, one of Jesus’ companions reached for his sword, drew it out and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

52 “Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him, “for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. 53 Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? 54 But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way?”

55 In that hour Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me? Every day I sat in the temple courts teaching, and you did not arrest me. 56 But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled. ”Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.

Jesus Before the Sanhedrin

57 Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, where the teachers of the law and the elders had assembled. 58 But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome.

59 The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death. 60 But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward.

Finally two came forward 61 and declared, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’”

62 Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, “Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” 63 But Jesus remained silent.

The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

64 “You have said so,” Jesus replied. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

65 Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. 66 What do you think?”

“He is worthy of death,” they answered.

67 Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him 68 and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?”

Peter Disowns Jesus

69 Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said.

70 But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

71 Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.”

72 He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!”

73 After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.”

74 Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!”

Immediately a rooster crowed. 75 Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.

Words of comfort; "On this holy night, we walk alongside Jesus as we remember the unbelievable victory He won over satan in securing our freedom from the tyranny of sin. The events of this Holy Week Thursday continue to reverberate over the world.

Let us confess our shortcomings to the Lord, and ask pardon for our sins. We remember how Jesus accepted the cup of suffering in reparation for the sins of the world. Only in the world to come will we truly realize the awesome scale of spiritual victory our Heavenly Warrior Prince won for us.

We remember how Jesus humbly prayed before the Father, sweating in fear of the impending events to the point of hematidrosis. Jesus was in so much terror and distress that capillary sweat gland blood vessels ruptured, exuding  blood. Yet He accepted the cup of suffering that He so feared. Jesus overcame His fear for sheer love of us, and pity of our fate if He did not confront satan's plans through the events of Holy Week.

The disciples, exhausted from the labor of walking from town to town and ministry, slept the sleep of the overextended. They did not realize the enormity of events which were moving forward and would soon embroil them in grief, remorse and sorrow. The aftermath of the heat of the day, together with recent stress, worry and the supper wine combined and they slept. Leaving the Son of God to sweat His fear out all alone.

Until the Father sent a special friend, one of the Angels in Heaven Who had always known how to speak to Jesus to bring comfort, wisdom and counsel. We do not know the name of the Angel - not on this side of eternity, at any rate - but we have cause to be deeply thankful to this holy being. He brought great comfort to a grown man who was so distraught that He wept.

At the Supper Jesus had instituted the Eucharist, the holy sacrament which infuses God's Divine Life into our human beings. Do we realize what an incredible gift this is? And freely given! Tonight, let us thank the Saviour for the supreme gift of His entire being, love and purification of our inner selves which the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ effects in us at communion. 

Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, humbly serving them. Let us always remember that the Lord and Master of the Universe of immeasurable Intellect, is not arrogant and proud. He is so humble that He wiped the sweat and dust from calloused feet. Let us likewise love to serve and assist all we meet, in the same humble spirit.

Tonight is the night we REMEMBER. We thank, praise, honor and worship the Lord our God Who brought us out of the Egypt of our banishment, and brought us back to the road which leads to Him.

What  a great destiny is ours! All we need do is accept Jesus Christ as our Lord and Saviour, repent our sins, and try to lead good lives. The sacraments help to nourish and comfort us on our journey as we each carry our own personal cross on life's road, ready to lay it down when the time comes and we joyfully enter heaven."

HOLY EUCHARIST

Priest; "As they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed and broke it. He gave it to His disciples, saying; "Take all of you, and eat. This is My Body, which is broken for you."

Congregation; "Lord Jesus, You are the Bread of Life."

Priest; 'At the end of supper, Jesus took the cup. He gave thanks, and gave it to His disciples, saying, "Take, all of you, and drink; this is My Blood of the new covenant, Which is shed for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of Me." '

Congregation; 'Lord Jesus, You are the cup of life, the wine blessed for our salvation.'

[Receive communion. If you are unable to attend Holy Mass, receive Jesus spiritually within your heart and soul now. Spend some time in prayer].  LORD'S PRAYER Priest; 'Let us now pray the Lord's prayer in the words Jesus gave us.' Priest and Congregation; 'Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day Our daily bread, And forgive us our sins, As we forgive those who sin against us, And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, For ever and ever, Amen.'

PRAYER

Priest; 'Heavenly Father, we praise and thank You for sending us Your only Son, Jesus Christ. We stay at Your Son's side tonight, as we ponder the mysteries of redemption. Our songs, prayer and thanks, the bowing down of our hearts before You are the ways we can show our gratitude for the immeasurable gift You gave us in Your Son.'Congregation; 'Amen.'

Priest; 'And may the blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, be with you now and forever,' Congregation; 'Amen'.

NOW WE SPEND TIME IN PRAYER AS 

WE REMEMBER THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS ON THIS HOLY NIGHT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkivkORaeJA HYMN Stay with me Stay with Me, Remain here with Me, Watch and pray, Watch and pray. . . 2x

Stay here, and keep watch with Me, Watch and pray, Watch and pray.

Stay with Me, Remain here with Me, Watch and pray, Watch and pray. . . 6 x

Stay with Me, Remain here with Me, Watch and pray, Not to give in to temptation. The spirit is eager, but the flesh is weak. . .  Stay with Me, Remain here with Me, Watch and pray, Watch and pray. . . My heart is nearly broken with sorrow, Remain here with Me, Stay awake and pray. . . Father, if it is possible, let this Cup pass Me by. . . Father, if it can not pass Me by Without I drinking it. . . Thy Will be done. Stay with Me, Remain here with Me, Watch and pray, Watch and pray. . . Repeat With thanks to Youtube

[shammah8]

"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”"

Psalm 42:1-3

EMPTINESS AND FILLING

Ron Boyd-MacMillan writes in his epic volume, Faith That Endures:

 

I remember interviewing a former Muslim extremist in Egypt. He had converted to Christ in his early twenties and led a Church for Muslim converts. This is illegal in Egypt, and the fellowship was betrayed to the police. Soon this young man found himself in prison. He was tortured. An electric cattle prod was pushed into his mouth. He was whipped and hung from the ceiling with his hands tied behind his back. But all this paled into insignificance compared to what other prisoners called “the experience.” He was pushed into a stone box, a cube about five feet square. No light. No latrine. And he was left there for a month, food being passed through a grate every few days. Most prisoners went mad as a result of “the experience” — but not him.

 

He found Christ there, and the words he used to describe his experience are still the most brilliant description of the process of how persecution actually delivers more of God:

 

“In great suffering you discover a different Jesus than you do in normal life. Normally we are able to hide from ourselves who we really are and what we are really like. The ego is well defended. But pain changes all that. Pain and suffering bring up to the surface all the weak points of your personality. You are too weak to mount the usual defenses, and you just have to gaze at what you are really like. I was a wreck in that cell. I was reduced to tears all the time. Crying, weeping, sobbing, wailing in the never-changing utter darkness.

 

“I came face-to-face with how awful I really was. I saw all the horrible things I had done, all the horrible things I was. I kept seeing myself again and again. But just as I was about to collapse into complete despair and self-loathing—and probably die—an incredible realization burst into the cell like an exploding star. It was this: Jesus loved me even right then, as I sat in my own filth, weak, helpless and broken, empty and sinful. Even in that state, He loved me, and Christ rushed in and filled me, and the filling was so great because I was so empty.” [28]

Response

Today I realize that God can use persecution to draw people closer to Himself. I will “fix my eyes on Jesus” to accept my awfulness and His filling.

Prayer

Thank You Lord that You fill us when we are truly empty. Help me not to hide my real condition from myself and before You.

28 Ron Boyd-MacMillan, Faith That Endures (Grand Rapids: Fleming Revell, 2006), p. 319-320.

© 2013 Open Doors International. Used by permission.

[faithisthekey-23]

Hi brothers and sisters, I would love to share with you a poem that I wrote today (24th June 2023). It doesn't rhyme at all for it was originally written in Polish. This post is only an English translation. However, if you want to read the original poem, I invite you to take a look at it on my other account @godiswithus-isaiah41-10 .

The One Who saves

You know my heart better than I do

Only You know how joy fills it

With You, no storm is scary for me

For I know that The Most High Is by my side and protects me

The Most High Is always by my side

Right with the Son of God and Holy Spirit

I will overcome every storm with the Holy Trinity

And I will not fear the darkness, but I'll fight it

With Him by my side, no fear has the power

I won't even fear the arrow flying at night

And pestilence that stalks in the midday

And the plague that will come in the darkness

Thousands will be falling, but I won't fall

For I drew close to The One Who says: "I will rescue him

I will protect him, for he acknowledges My Name"

I tell You, if you draw close to Him

Holy Spirit will come to you and everyone who wants Him

He will be abide with you even when your sin is huge

He won't leave you, but will save you from it

He will change you and remind you of everything

That Jesus told His deciples

He will help you, become your Comforter

Moreover, He will come out to be the Best Teacher

In His Name and Presence there is Omnipotence

He delivers people from demons and heals — that's for sure

There is no doubt that that's His ability

I saw His Greatness with my own eyes

He leads us to the Only One

Who can lead us to eternal life

In His there is our salvation

For He decided to lose His own life for our redemption

In His Wounds there is our healing

In His suffering we found our strength

Even in the midst of the biggest suffering, we won't give up

For we don't gain our strength from ourselves but from The One Who Is Obedient

To God and fulfills His will

With Him by our side there is no way that someone will suffer misery

For He takes away from us any burden

Never lets us bear on our shoulders the burden that is too great

We share our cross with Him

And shout with joy: "Heavenly Kingdom, come"

For we can't wait for the moment in which

We will see how the Son of God comes for the second time

We will see the huge power in Him once again

When a huge purification will come to the world

Every spirit will be purified from every sin

And will get to know about the Majesty of our Savior

Who comes from the God Almighty

And sits on His Right Side

Every nation will find the Messiah in Him

Everyone who loves Him won't know what allegation means

That brings death, for he will be saved

When Lord Jesus right with the rest of the Holy Trinity comes to His people

His people who were waiting for Him with patience and gratefulness

While fulfilling the will of God, so that He will find what He expected when He comes:

Living in agreement and harmony between everyone

And the law of love that was turned into action

All people who were supposed to be saved and led to Jesus by the help of others

Found the Way leading to the Gate Of Sheep and went through it not by the murderers and hunters

Heavenly Kingfom will also be on earth

When the Son of God comes here,

There will be no more place for the quarrels, plagues and sin

Every nation will be happily walking hand in hand

It all will happen thanks to the mercy of The Most High

So let all of us praise His Name with no breaks

For He deserves all the praise and glory preached by everyone

For He saved us from the evil and gave us the eternal life — the Lion of Juda

He took away the key of death from satan and rules over it

He wants to redeem everyone with His The Most Precious Blood Which He constantly sheds

In the sacrament of reconciliation in which we meet Living Him every day

Under the wine and our daily bread

His Power turns into the Blood and Body of Jesus

As a symbol of forgiving our sins and remembrance of His Sacrifice

For Which we should be grateful

And most importantly, be willing

To be closer to the Holy Trinity day by day, by welcoming The Most Holy Jesus

Crucified for us, Risen and Ascended into Heaven

Into our hearts through the Eucharist

That our Savior Jesus Christ  created Himself in the cenacle before He was betrayed

By His unfaithful servant and deciple Judas Iscariot

So that it will turn out to be just like it was written in the Scripture:

"All who see Me mock Me

They hurl insults, shaking their heads"

He went through it all for our salvation

May the whole earth love Him every day

And may be lifted high the shouting of sheep from the sheepfold:

"Oh, God Almighty, praise and glory be to You forever!"

[johnhardinsawyer]

“It Depends on Faith”

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

6 / 11 / 23 – Second Sunday after Pentecost / Proper 5

Genesis 12:1-9

Romans 4:13-25

“It Depends on Faith”

(The Promise of Grace)

When I was in the 10th grade, I got glasses for the first time.  I will never forget walking out of the store with my new glasses on.  I.  Could.  See.  Everything – every little leaf on every tree, signs in the distance that no one else in the car could see.  It was awesome!

A few years later, though, I got some new glasses and I couldn’t see quite as well through them.  When I asked my eye doctor about his, he said, “Oh, your previous prescription was too strong.”  Hmmm. . . I thought.  Bummer.  Apparently, having a prescription that is too strong could cause eyestrain, headaches, and even nausea.  With glasses that are weaker, you don’t have that discomfort.  Ever since then, I have noticed that when I am getting an eye exam, I will look through the thing and tell the optometrist which is clearest setting and then they always say “Good,” and then knock it back just one – making things, not blurry, but slightly less clear.  This happened to me when I went to the eye doctor just the other week.  

You know, we might have ways of seeing the world clearly with our eyes – sometimes looking through prescription lenses – but we also have other ways of seeing the world, that don’t involve seeing with our eyes, but with our minds and hearts.  This is what is sometimes called our “worldview.”  

A recent article in Scientific American talks about a study that is taking place at the University of Pennsylvania, in which sociologists are mapping some of the most basic beliefs that people hold about the world that we all share.  These basic beliefs are called “primal world beliefs,”

. . . and reflect what individuals think is typical about the world – for instance, that most things are beautiful or that life is usually full of pain and suffering. . .  [that the world is] generally dangerous or safe, dull or enticing, and alive or mechanistic.[1]

According to the study, so many factors go into shaping our worldview – a combination of our experiences, our environment, and our genetic predisposition to how our experiences and environment impact our minds and bodies, hearts and souls.  Our worldview is also shaped by how we try to make sense of the world – the ways we categorize things and try to explain why things happen and how the world works.  For example, some people like a lot of structure – strict boundaries and categories – and others are more comfortable with less structure – less “Black and White” and more “Gray.”  

Jesus was born into a culture and a religion that was very much into these strict boundaries.  Judaism is a religion that has very much been based on the laws of Moses.  These Biblical laws were put into place to keep the people safe and healthy, and practice their devotion to God.  The only problem was that giving people the strict guidelines of the law meant that some people thought that being faithful to God only required doing what the law said instead of also having faith in the God who put the law in place.  In the Book of Isaiah, the Lord calls the people out for this, saying,

“. . . these people draw near with their mouths and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me and their worship of me is a human commandment learned by rote. . .” (Isaiah 29:13)

Jesus quotes these words from Isaiah in the Gospel of Matthew, in the presence of the Pharisees and the scribes.  Jesus calls them hypocrites, saying that they are conveniently forgetting certain laws that are not convenient to follow.[2]  

So, we have Isaiah and Jesus both telling us that there’s got to be something more than all of these laws – shaping our worldview and how we see God, something deeper, more fundamental, more primal. . .  And, in today’s readings from Genesis and Paul’s Letter to the Romans, we have a picture of someone who – before the law was even written – sees God and the world quite clearly with a deeply held faith.  

Those of you who are familiar with the story of Abraham, know that when he is seventy-five years old – and childless – God comes to him and says,

Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.  I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. . . and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.  (Genesis 12:1-3)

Now, you might wonder why someone who, maybe, should have been thinking about downsizing and moving to a place close to family and friends where he could live out his remaining years, ends up packing up all of his belongings and his wife and their nephew and going to a completely new land.  There seems to be something at work in Abraham’s mind and heart – pulling him or pushing him toward making this big move.  The answer the Bible gives for it all is this:  Abraham has faith.  A few chapters after today’s reading from Genesis, God speaks to Abraham, again and repeats the promise that Abraham will be the father of a great nation.  “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them,” God says.  “So shall your descendants be.”  And then we read, “[Abraham] believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.”  (15:5-6). To put it another way, Abraham “believed!  Believed God!  God declared him, “Set-Right-With-God.”[3]

In the original language, to say that Abraham “believed,” here, means that he “trusted in God” or “was secure in God.”  He had some kind of confirmation in his mind and heart that what God said was true and he supported the God who had promised these things.[4]  It sounds strange to say that Abraham “supported” God, as if God needed Abraham’s support, but this does imply that Abraham was committed to God, invested – mind, heart, body, and soul – in the God who had called to him and promised to make his yet-to-be-born descendants more numerous than the stars.  Abraham’s commitment to God sets him apart from many of the people he meets and just about everyone who comes afterwards.  

Perhaps one of the most famous character study explorations of Abraham is the book Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard.  Now, I am not a Kierkegaard scholar and do not quote Kierkegaard on a regular basis, but this week, I did pull my old yellowed college copy of Fear and Trembling off the shelf because I remember that Kierkegaard repeatedly refers to Abraham as a heroic “knight of faith.”  Abraham is the heroic ultimate example of what faith can look like in a person.  Kierkegaard spends a lot of time in Fear and Trembling, exploring how and why Abraham had faith – faith enough to trust that God’s promise would come true even if Abraham were to sacrifice his own son, Isaac, later, in Genesis, Chapter 22.  At one point, in reflecting on this, Kierkegaard writes, “while Abraham arouses my admiration, he also appalls me.”[5]  Abraham is almost faithful to a fault – coming quite close to killing his own son before God stops him.  

For Kierkegaard, and for so many others who have thought and written about Abraham over the centuries, there is a deep-down faith and trust within Abraham that just isn’t like the faith that most people have.  There isn’t a system of laws at play, here, for Abraham.  There seems to be only one law written on Abraham’s mind and heart:  obey God at all costs.  It’s almost as if Abraham’s worldview is so clear – that his prescription is too strong for the rest of us to handle.  It gives Kierkegaard – and us – headaches and nausea.  This kind of faith is so extreme that when it comes to almost sacrificing Isaac, Abraham has, what Kierkegaard calls, a “teleological suspension of the ethical,”[6] or an unethical decision in favor of faith because Abraham trusts that God will bring about something right in the end.  In other words, Abraham places a priority on religious concerns instead of ethical concerns, proving his faith in God.  

But is this kind of faith realistic, especially in the 21st Century, especially when a lot of people are kind of “iffy” about faith?  When I think about celebrating and praying for our high school graduates today, I think about who I was when I was their age and the kind of people I encountered when I left my home and family and went away to a far-off land called “college.”  Within just a few short months after graduating from high school, I met plenty of people who were skeptical about faith and religion and I met plenty of people who thought they were true believers – in the running to out-faith Abraham, himself.  I often found myself to be somewhere in the middle of the pack.  I could describe myself as sometimes faith-filled, sometimes questioning, sometimes both, at the same time.  

If you were to ask me to compare who I was then versus who I am, today, I would say that I am still sometimes faith-filled, sometimes questioning, sometimes both, at the same time.  

What has changed for me, though, is my understanding of something that Paul talks about in today’s reading from the Book of Romans.  Yes, Abraham had a very strong faith – a faith that most of us would struggle to reach, even if we tried.  But the very thing that gave Abraham faith, in the first place, the very thing that Abraham had faith in, was the promise of God’s grace.  “. . . [It] depends on faith,” Paul writes, “in order that the promise may rest on grace. . .” (Romans 4:16). Or, as Eugene Peterson translates it, This is why the fulfillment of God’s promise depends entirely on trusting God and God’s way, and then simply embracing God and what God does.[7]

Faith is not the suspension of our human intellect or our ethics – turning off our brains so that we blindly trust God.  No, faith is the simple embrace of the One who first loved us, the One who has chosen us, and set us right with God through Jesus, and has called us into a way of life that will be a blessing to others.  Faith is having some inkling in our minds and hearts that there is something – someone – who loves us in seasons of deep faith and deep doubt, someone who has greater and higher hopes for us than we can even imagine, someone who will never leave us and never stop working for good in life and in death and beyond death itself, someone who is always inviting us to simply embrace the gift of grace.  

Living in this world will include pain and suffering, but by God’s grace, faith can help us find the beauty in the midst of the hard things.  The world can seem a dangerous place, but by God’s grace, faith can help us live and serve with confidence.  Life can seem dull at times, but by God’s grace, faith invites us to look deeper and seek the Holy.  The world can seem so mechanistic – set on auto-pilot – but by God’s grace, faith opens our eyes to the Spirit that is alive in all things.  

There will be times when you and I will see, oh-so-clearly, who we are and who God is and what God is calling us to do.  There will be times when our vision is cloudy.  There will be times when we might need some spiritual bifocals to see God at work up close in our own lives and in the life of the wider world.  But the God who made heaven and earth, and you and me, and every leaf on every tree, is calling you and I to see and embrace the One whose love for us is boundless.  

May we give our hearts to this Love – a Love that will carry us into a new life, here and now, and in the life that is to come.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

------- 

[1] Jer Clifton, “Divided Mindset,” Scientific American, June 2023. 80.

[2] See Matthew 15:1-9.

[3] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 33.

[4] F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The Brown-Driver Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 1997) 52-53.

[5] Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling (New York: Penguin Books, 1985) 89.

[6] Kierkegaard, 83.

[7] Eugene Peterson, 1545.  Romans 4:16.

[tpanan]

My Sunday Daily Blessings

March 5, 2023

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........        

Second Sunday of Lent (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 25

First Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a

The LORD said to Abram: "Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father's house to a land that I will show you. "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great,so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you. All the communities of the earth shall find blessing in you." Abram went as the LORD directed him.

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 33:4-5,18-19,20,22

"Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you."

Second Reading: 2 Timothy 1:8b-10

Beloved: Bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God. He saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design and the grace bestowed on us in Christ Jesus before time began, but now made manifest through the appearance of our savior Christ Jesus, who destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.

Verse Before the Gospel: Matthew 17:5

"From the shining cloud the Father's voice is heard: This is my beloved Son, hear him."

**Gospel: Matthew 17:1-9

Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him.

Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, "Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said,

"This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him." When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Rise, and do not be afraid." And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone. As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, "Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."

**Reflection:

Are you prepared to see the glory of the Lord and to share in his glory as well? God made a promise to Abraham that he would make him a channel of great blessing not only to his own family and future descendants but to all the families of the earth as well (Genesis 12:3)! The condition for the fulfillment of this promise was simple and straightforward - "Go from your family and country to the land that I will show you" (Genesis 12:1). Abraham not only believed in God's promise, he promptly obeyed and did as the Lord commanded him. God chose Abraham as his instrument of blessing - that through him and his descendants would come the Messiah, the Lord Jesus Christ who would reveal the glory and blessing of God's kingdom and bring salvation for all who would call upon his name.

The Lord Jesus came to fulfill all that Moses and the prophets spoke The Lord Jesus is the fulfillment of all the promises made to Abraham and to his spiritual descendants. In all that Jesus did and said he sought to please his Father in heaven and to bring him glory. Like Abraham, he was ready to part with anything that might stand in the way of doing the will of God. He knew that the success of his mission would depend on his willingness to embrace his Father's will no matter what it might cost him personally.

Jesus on three occasions told his disciples that he would undergo suffering and death on a cross to fulfill the mission the Father gave him. As the time draws near for Jesus' ultimate sacrifice on the cross, he takes three of his beloved disciples to the top of a high mountain. Just as Moses and Elijah were led to the mountain of God to discern their ultimate call and mission, so Jesus now appears with Moses and Elijah on the highest mountain overlooking the summit of the promised land. Matthew's Gospel tells us that Jesus was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as light (Matthew 17:2).

Jesus reveals his glory to the apostles and to us Why did Jesus appear in dazzling light with Moses and Elijah? The book of Exodus tells us that when Moses had met with God on Mount Sinai the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God (Exodus 34:29). Paul the Apostle wrote that the Israelites could not look at Moses' face because of its brightness (2 Corinthians 3:7). After Elijah, the greatest of the prophets, had destroyed all the priests and idols of Baal in the land, he took refuge on the mountain of God at Sinai. There God showed Elijah his glory in great thunder, whirlwind, and fire, and then spoke with him in a still quiet voice. God questioned Elijah, "What are you doing here?" And then directed him to go and fulfill the mission given him by God. Jesus, likewise, appears in glory with Moses and Elijah, as if to confirm with them that he, too, is ready to fulfill the mission which the Father has sent him to accomplish.

Jesus went to the mountain knowing full well what awaited him in Jerusalem - betrayal, rejection, and crucifixion. Jesus very likely discussed this momentous decision to go to the cross with Moses and Elijah. God the Father also spoke with Jesus and gave his approval: This is my beloved Son; listen to him. The Father glorified his son because he was faithful and willing to obey him in everything. The cloud which overshadowed Jesus and his apostles fulfilled the dream of the Jews that when the Messiah came the cloud of God's presence would fill the temple again (see Exodus 16:10, 19:9, 33:9; 1 Kings 8:10; 2 Maccabees 2:8).

Christ's way to glory The Lord Jesus not only wants us to see his glory - he wants to share this glory with us. And Jesus shows us the way to the Father's glory - follow me - obey my words. Take the path I have chosen for you and you will receive the blessing of my Father's kingdom - your name, too, will be written in heaven. Jesus fulfilled his mission on Calvary where he died for our sins so that Paradise and everlasting life would be restored to us. He embraced the cross to win a crown of glory - a crown that awaits each one of us, if we, too, will follow in his footsteps.

Origen (185-254 AD), a noted early church bible scholar and teacher, explains the significance of Jesus' transfiguration for our own lives:

"Do you wish to see the transfiguration of Jesus? Behold with me the Jesus of the Gospels. Let him be simply apprehended. There he is beheld both "according to the flesh" and at the same time in his true divinity. He is beheld in the form of God according to our capacity for knowledge. This is how he was beheld by those who went up upon the lofty mountain to be apart with him. Meanwhile those who do not go up the mountain can still behold his works and hear his words, which are uplifting. It is before those who go up that Jesus is transfigured, and not to those below. When he is transfigured, his face shines as the sun, that he may be manifested to the children of light, who have put off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. They are no longer the children of darkness or night but have become the children of day. They walk honestly as in the day. Being manifested, he will shine to them not simply as the sun but as he is demonstrated to be, the sun of righteousness." (Commentary on Matthew)

Luke's Gospel tells us that while Jesus was transfigured, Peter, James, and John were asleep (Luke 9:32)! Upon awakening they discovered Jesus in glory along with Moses and Elijah. How much do we miss of God's glory and action because we are asleep spiritually? There are many things which can keep our minds asleep to the things of God: Mental lethargy and the "unexamined life" can keep us from thinking things through and facing our doubts and questions. The life of ease can also hinder us from considering the challenging or disturbing demands of Christ. Prejudice can make us blind to something new the Lord may have for us. Even sorrow can be a block until we can see past it to the glory of God.

We are partakers of his glory Are you spiritually awake? Peter, James, and John were privileged witnesses of the glory of Christ. We, too, as disciples of Jesus Christ are called to be witnesses of his glory. We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:18). The Lord wants to reveal his glory to us, his beloved disciples. Do you seek his presence with faith and reverence?Lord Jesus, keep me always alert to you, to your word, your action, and your constant presence in my life. Let me see your glory.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, copyright (c) 2001, 1998, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain (c) 1968, 1981, 1997, international committee on english in the liturgy, Inc All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

[dailychapel]

Acts 20:1–38 NLT - 1 When the uproar was over, Paul sent for the believers and encouraged them. Then he said good-bye and left for Macedonia. 2 While there, he encouraged the believers in all the towns he passed through. Then he traveled down to Greece, 3 where he stayed for three months. He was preparing to sail back to Syria when he discovered a plot by some Jews against his life, so he decided to return through Macedonia. 4 Several men were traveling with him. They were Sopater son of Pyrrhus from Berea; Aristarchus and Secundus from Thessalonica; Gaius from Derbe; Timothy; and Tychicus and Trophimus from the province of Asia. 5 They went on ahead and waited for us at Troas. 6 After the Passover ended, we boarded a ship at Philippi in Macedonia and five days later joined them in Troas, where we stayed a week. 7 On the first day of the week, we gathered with the local believers to share in the Lord's Supper. Paul was preaching to them, and since he was leaving the next day, he kept talking until midnight. 8 The upstairs room where we met was lighted with many flickering lamps. 9 As Paul spoke on and on, a young man named Eutychus, sitting on the windowsill, became very drowsy. Finally, he fell sound asleep and dropped three stories to his death below. 10 Paul went down, bent over him, and took him into his arms. "Don't worry," he said, "he's alive!" 11 Then they all went back upstairs, shared in the Lord's Supper, and ate together. Paul continued talking to them until dawn, and then he left. 12 Meanwhile, the young man was taken home unhurt, and everyone was greatly relieved. 13 Paul went by land to Assos, where he had arranged for us to join him, while we traveled by ship. 14 He joined us there, and we sailed together to Mitylene. 15 The next day we sailed past the island of Kios. The following day we crossed to the island of Samos, and a day later we arrived at Miletus. 16 Paul had decided to sail on past Ephesus, for he didn't want to spend any more time in the province of Asia. He was hurrying to get to Jerusalem, if possible, in time for the Festival of Pentecost. 17 But when we landed at Miletus, he sent a message to the elders of the church at Ephesus, asking them to come and meet him. 18 When they arrived he declared, "You know that from the day I set foot in the province of Asia until now 19 I have done the Lord's work humbly and with many tears. I have endured the trials that came to me from the plots of the Jews. 20 I never shrank back from telling you what you needed to hear, either publicly or in your homes. 21 I have had one message for Jews and Greeks alike--the necessity of repenting from sin and turning to God, and of having faith in our Lord Jesus. 22 "And now I am bound by the Spirit to go to Jerusalem. I don't know what awaits me, 23 except that the Holy Spirit tells me in city after city that jail and suffering lie ahead. 24 But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus--the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God. 25 "And now I know that none of you to whom I have preached the Kingdom will ever see me again. 26 I declare today that I have been faithful. If anyone suffers eternal death, it's not my fault, 27 for I didn't shrink from declaring all that God wants you to know. 28 "So guard yourselves and God's people. Feed and shepherd God's flock--his church, purchased with his own blood--over which the Holy Spirit has appointed you as elders. 29 I know that false teachers, like vicious wolves, will come in among you after I leave, not sparing the flock. 30 Even some men from your own group will rise up and distort the truth in order to draw a following. 31 Watch out! Remember the three years I was with you--my constant watch and care over you night and day, and my many tears for you. 32 "And now I entrust you to God and the message of his grace that is able to build you up and give you an inheritance with all those he has set apart for himself. 33 "I have never coveted anyone's silver or gold or fine clothes. 34 You know that these hands of mine have worked to supply my own needs and even the needs of those who were with me. 35 And I have been a constant example of how you can help those in need by working hard. You should remember the words of the Lord Jesus: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'" 36 When he had finished speaking, he knelt and prayed with them. 37 They all cried as they embraced and kissed him good-bye. 38 They were sad most of all because he had said that they would never see him again. Then they escorted him down to the ship.

[silverflameataraxia]

A popular argument I see for why this fandom hates Nesta is because she never showed Feyre, until ACOSF, that she loved her. I wholeheartedly disagree with this statement. Nesta may have never admitted verbally that she loved Feyre, but there were plenty of times that she showed it.

1. Nesta protected Feyre from both verbal and physical abuse. Feyre has yet to find out that Nesta was ever abused, which means that Nesta not only took the abuse on behalf of her younger siblings, but she also kept it a secret so as not to ruin their memories of their grandmamma.

2. Nesta reached out to their cousin for financial assistance. After they lost their fortune, it's not like Nesta did nothing. She may not have hunted, but she helped in what way she could.

3. Nesta almost married Tomas. Nesta claimed they were in love, yes, but she also made it clear that she was trying to marry to give Feyre one less mouth to feed.

4. Nesta chopped the wood. Nesta may not have hunted, but she still chopped the wood and took care of things around their cabin after they lost their fortune. She may have complained about it, but she still did it.

5. Nesta tried to rescue Feyre from Prythian. In the dead of winter, Nesta hired a mercenary and tredged through the snowy woods to cross the wall, find Feyre, and bring her home, regardless of how dangerous the journey north of the wall would be for a human woman.

6. Nesta's the sole reason Feyre went UTM. It was the conversation Feyre had with Nesta, which motivated her to ignore the danger and return to Tamlin. It was then that Feyre realized he was taken UTM, and the main events of the book took place.

7. Nesta told Feyre not to return. It was Nesta who told Feyre to be with the male she loved, to live a happy life, and to not look back because her family would be alright - Nesta would make sure of it.

8. Nesta allowed the IC to meet with the human Queens at her family's estate. Nesta knew if they were caught, she would be branded as a Fae sympathizer and executed, but she still allowed them to meet there, regardless of the danger to her.

9. Nesta knew Feyre loved to paint. Seems insignificant until you remember that Feyre forgot Nesta loved to dance. Not only did Nesta remember what brought Feyre joy, but she also remembered that Feyre used to draw the night sky.

10. Nesta agreed to work with Amren. She agreed to train with Amren to use her magic and to find a way to repair the wall. This was done because of her devotion to humans and the human lands, but also because Feyre asked her to train. Nesta could have easily said no.

11. Nesta shared her story at the High Lords meeting. For someone as personal and introverted as Nesta, this is a big deal. She never even told anyone about the abuse she endured as a child, or the sexual assault by Tomas, but she was willing to open up to the High Lords because Feyre asked her to and because she thought it might help protect the humans.

12. Nesta never told anyone Feyre left the battlefield. Rhys and Mor may have been pissed, but Nesta promised Feyre she wouldn't say anything when she left the battle with Hybern, and she didn't.

13. Nesta was willing to sacrifice her life for Feyre. Knowing that Feyre didn't have a chance of getting to the Cauldron with the King of Hybern present, Nesta volunteered to lure him away, and thus sacrifice her life for Feyre, the Night Court, and all of Prythian.

14. Nesta, in the midst of her depression, visited Feyre. Although, ACOFAS never mentioned Feyre deigning to visit Nesta at either her apartment of her favorite tavern, it mentioned that Nesta went to visit Feyre a few times every month... while suffering with depression, self-loathing, and suicidal thoughts.

15. Nesta risked her life, repeatedly, to find the Dread Trove. Once again, Nesta did not need to do this, especially to help a sister who locked her in a house. But she did, risking death numerous times, and even being sexually assaulted by a kelpie.

16. Nesta told Feyre the truth. Feyre had the right to know about her pregnancy complications and Nesta loved her enough to tell her the truth.

17. Nesta sacrificed her powers for Feyre. Nesta was the most powerful person in Prythian with her god-like powers, but she sacrificed them to save Feyre from her own stupidity and selfishness. And yes, I call a High Lord and Lady making a death-bargain selfish and stupid. But Nesta sacrificed it all for her sister.

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[fandom-puff]

Family, Duty, Honour (p2)

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warnings: pregnancy/pregnancy symptoms including vomiting, prejudice towards dwarfism (discussion as to whether Tyrion and YN’s child will inherit his dwarfism; not a widely accepted condition in Westeros), childbirth, details of the death of Joanna Lannister (dying in childbirth/traumatic birth), reference to miscarriage

(Part 1)

Gif creds to owner

“Pardon me, Milord,”

Both Tywin and Tyrion turned around to see a young girl, one of your handmaidens, hurrying towards them, remembering a clumsy curtsey in her haste.

“Speak,” Lord Tywin said sternly, and the girl paled briefly before turning instead to his son.

“It’s Lady YN,” she said, and Tyrion instantly stood up straighter, even more on edge. “She’s… sick, my Lord. Can’t keep anything in her stomach, and just now she fainted,”

“Where is she?” Tyrion asked urgently.

“Her bedchamber, Milord. We got a squire to help her back into bed,”

As Tyrion made to hurry after the girl, Tywin’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder. “I will send the maester. He will prove whether or not you have done your duty to this family,”

***

“YN, my dear, can you hear me?”

Slowly, your heavy eyelids slid open, and you turned your head to the source of the noise. Smiling weakly, you squeezed your husband of two month’s hand.

“Are you alright, my lady wife,” he asked you gently, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy. Must have stood up too quickly,” you said gently, but you did not soothe Tyrion’s worry.

“Your handmaiden said you’ve been ill?” He prompted, and your cheeks heated slightly.

“It’s probably just… my women’s troubles,” you said quietly, still unused to talking about such delicate matters with anyone other than an old septa.

“Or lack thereof, lady Lannister?” The maester spoke up from the end of your bed and you frowned, about to say there really was no need for all this fuss. “The maids say your linen has been clean since your wedding night,”

Clean linen.

Those two words instantly reminded you of when Cousin Cat came to stay at Riverrun with her brooding husband. She had stayed for over a month, and halfway through her stay, you heard gossip of clean linen as you wandered the corridors of your home. Later on that year, she had birthed another child for Ned Stark.

“Does that mean…” you began.

The wisened maester smiled at your bewilderment. “Potentially. If my Lord and Lady are agreeable, I would like to examine lady Lannister to be certain,”

Tyrion smiled gently and kissed your hand once more. “I will give you some privacy, my dear,” he said, and once you nodded, he left the room to bang on the door to his father’s office.

***

“Have you put a babe in her belly?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his father’s callousness. “She is being examined as we speak,”

“Good,” Tywin said, hardly looking up from his paperwork. “You’d best hope she is with child and not ill. There aren’t many noble families willing to pawn off a daughter to us,” Tywin sighed and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit,” he said. “You clearly have something more to say,”

Tyrion was silent for a moment. “I do not want to lose her. She is young. Too young for… this,”

“She is only a few years younger than you. And besides, that didn’t stop you consummating the marriage, did it?”

If anything went on in Casterly rock, Tywin Lannister certainly knew about it within a day.

“No, it didn’t,” Tyrion said. You were nineteen after all, and you had consummated your marriage out of duty to your families.

The night-time visits, on the other hand…

“I’m scared that a baby will… that it will kill her,” Tyrion blurted out, and he could have sworn he saw some semblance of sympathy flash through his father’s eyes. “I am scared that my child will be too much like me. That it will rip her in two and kill her. That it won’t even live in her womb. That it will suffer. That… that she will suffer,”

Tywin stared long and hard at his youngest son, his bastard in all but name as far as he was concerned and sighed. “So am I,” was all he said, before gesturing to the door. And as he left the office, Tyrion knew that Tywin did not care for your suffering, for his suffering, or even for the child’s suffering. He cared only that his legacy remained.

***

Casterly Rock was alive with gossip.

No matter which corridor you walked down, people would stare, both openly and discretely at your belly, which barely showed thanks to the layers you wore (Tyrion insisted you wrapped up warm whenever you walked through the gardens, lest you catch a chill). You could not go a day without the maester inquiring about your general health, and when your swollen ankles were brought to your husband’s attention, he had the cobblers fashion you a pair of comfortable, yet fashionable flat shoes.

***

You were laying in your husband’s bed one night on the sixth moon of your pregnancy, a hand resting on your bump. “Leave the books, husband, and come to bed. I need you to tell your child to stop kicking me so we can all go to sleep. He seems to only listen to you,” Tyrion looked up from his books and sighed, shutting them over and coming to bed, his hand resting over yours. “You’ve gained a sudden interest in midwifery, I see,” you teased, but when he did not smile at your jest, you frowned. “What’s bothering you, husband?” You said gently.

“I…” Tyrion fumbled for the words, his eyes firmly on your belly. “I am frightened, YN,” he said quietly. “That the baby will… will have… will be a little too much like me.”

Of course. You cursed yourself for not even thinking that this could be plaguing your husband. You clasped Tyrion’s hand in yours. “Tyrion… even if the baby is born a dwarf, we will not treat him the way your father treated you,” you insisted, drawing small circles on the back of his hands.

“But what if it kills you like I killed my mother,” your heart ached for him, and you tipped his chin up to face you.

“Then you must promise me to love this child regardless,”

Tyrion’s heart ached. Neither of you had wanted this marriage, yet in the few short months you had been wed he had become fond of you, affectionate. He wanted to protect you from the horrors of a kingdom still reeling from the Rebellion that saw the end of the Mad King. He wanted to see you happy and comfortable and healthy. He would spend all of the gold in Casterly Rock to ensure your safety, despite the fact that your marriage was merely one of strategy arranged by his father and your uncle. You were still his wife, the most precious thing in his life.

But over the past nine months, he could do nothing to alleviate your discomfort. He could only hold back your hair and rub your back as you vomited, the only thing you could seemingly keep in your stomach was dried bread. When you could manage dining anywhere but your chambers, he ordered for the things that turned your stomach to be kept well away. When your legs and feet ached, he could only rub them in hopes of soothing the throbbing. When the baby kicked like mad at night, he rubbed your swollen belly so that you could rest, if only for a few moments at a time.

He watched as the veritable mountain that was your bump sapped you of your energy, and he knew there was nothing he could do to restore it.

And when the time came for you to birth the child, he knew his heart would ache even more as you laboured for hours in agony, with him unable to do anything to take the pain away.

***

You went into labour at night, your sharp gasp of pain as you heaved yourself out of bed waking your husband.

“My dear, are you alright?” He asked urgently, not groggy despite the fact he had been snoring like a boar just thirty seconds prior. As he lit a candle, he saw you grasping onto one of the bedposts, lips pressed together, suppressing your groan. “I will be back in a moment, YN, okay? I’m going to get help,”

“Hurry,”

True to his word, Tyrion returned a few moments later with a few sleepy maids and a septa, who laid fresh linen over the bed and began to send for boiling water. The maester was hot on their heels, scrambling to loop his chains over his neck, before shooing Tyrion and the maids out of the room.

Your groans and cries of pain permeated the walls of your bedchamber and down the hallways of Casterly Rock, and by sunrise, coins were being exchanged on the outcome of your labour. The smallfolk crowded near the walls of the castle, eager to call out prayers in hopes that the rich old lions felt generous after the birth.

Tyrion paced just outside of the room you were in, and every time a maid went in with fresh, boiled water and clean linen or came out with bloodstained cloths and empty bowls, he asked urgently how you were doing, but no one gave him an answer.

The septa left the birthing room, walking straight past the father of your child to… the grandfather. They talked in quick, hushed voices, that could not be heard over your pained cries, but Tyrion caught the two of them looking over their shoulder at him several times.

As the septa went back into the birthing room, Tywin walked over to Tyrion. He seemed to be in no apparent rush, his steps stately. Tyrion resisted the urge to scream at his father, to curse him for tormenting him while you laboured.

“When you were brought into the world,” he began, voice level and low, so Tyrion had to strain to hear what he was saying. “You were born, for lack of a better term, arse first. But then your shoulders got stuck inside the womb, and when you finally emerged, you dragged half of your mother’s womb out with you,”

Both men paled. Not only were they weak stomached when it came to the secretive world of a birthing chamber, but Tywin was plagued with memories from twenty or so years before, and Tyrion was plagued with guilt for killing his mother when he was a newborn, and fear that his child would do the same to you.

Tywin continued. “But the Septa has reported that the child is being born head first, as it should,” Tyrion nodded slowly. Tywin was about to continue when the door opened again.

“Pardon, Milords,” a maid carrying an armful of bloodied linen said. “Lady YN has asked for Lord Tyrion to… support her. The maester has permitted it, so long as Milord stays at the top end of the bed,”

Tyrion was frozen for a moment.

“Go,” Tywin said lowly, giving his son a small shove. “Your lady wife needs you now,”

Tyrion looked over his shoulder, and he was sure he could see a small glimmer of… sympathy in his father’s eye. Kindness even. And it was this look, paired with the shift in the way you screamed that had him running into the birthing chamber.

“Tyrion!” You sobbed, one hand reaching for him, the other reaching above you to grasp at the headboard. One of your trusted hand maids, who you had brought with you from Riverrun was at your other side, pressing a cool cloth to your forehead. Tyrion hurried to your other side, just in time for the maester to tell you to push, and the child was at last parted with your body.

All was silent for a tense few moments, until sharp cries filled the room. You could hear the cheering from the corridors.

“A boy, my lady,” the maester called out, and you sobbed for joy. “A healthy son. A little on the delicate side-”

“Is he-”

“No. He is not like you, my Lord. I delivered you and your siblings, and your son is exactly the size your brother was when he was born,”

“Can I hold him?” You whispered, your arms reaching out.

“Of course, my lady. He is your son,”

The child was handed to you, nuzzled against the bare skin of your breasts, his little cries soon petering out to soft snuffles of sleep. The maester left to deliver the good news to the Lord of Casterly Rock, but your world consisted only of Tyrion and your son.

“He’s perfect,” he said, letting out a relieved laugh. “And he’s going to tower over me when he’s a man grown,” You gave a laugh, happy tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your head on his shoulder. Tyrion pressed his lips to your temple. “You wonderful, wonderful woman, I love you,” he murmured. “I swear to you on the old gods and the new that I will protect you and my son from all harm,”

You rubbed your son’s back gently, not wanted to disturb his sleep and you looked up to your husband. “Thank you,” you whispered. Tyrion, my Lord husband. My love,”

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