#River Warrior plane

[nyrandrea]

No because he is as well, I adore the way he was written!! I was the same gigglin n kickin my feet each n everytime 😭

But can I ask for a request then, so say reader n Astarion ( plus two others ) are in an fight and reader just gets badly injured n knocked out and he just loses it killing anyone in his path to get to reader caring about them agshdudisowowi

Thanks so much for the request! I had quite a bit of fun writing this prompt.

Few warnings for canon-typical violence, blood, injury and animal death. Yyyyeah it is quite the doozy.

Word Count - 1.9k

Hope you enjoy!

xxx

The moon hung low in the starlit sky, its pale light casting ghostly shadows upon a narrow, winding mountain path. You and your party had been travelling all day as you wanted to cover more considerable ground to make up for time lost due to camping. However, the physical toll it was taking on everyone was starting to show as you all moved cautiously through the rugged terrain. 

Lae’zel was understandably the most resilient of the group, her tough demeanor betrayed only by the beads of sweat that trailed down her knitted eyebrows as she focused on conquering the path ahead. Shadowheart seemed to be driven purely by spite just to keep up with the githyanki; you almost had to fight her a few times just to get her to stop and catch her breath before she keeled over.  

You were feeling pretty run down yourself, every step felt heavier as time dragged on and your muscles were screaming at you to stop, but if you made it to that rock, to that tree, just over the hill, across the river, only then could you rest. 

You said that about ten rocks and five rivers ago. 

“That’s it!” A familiar voice shouted out from behind you, and you instinctively rolled your eyes. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

Turning around, you were greeted with the sorry sight of Astarion collapsing onto his knees and huffing for breath, and it seemed as if he wasn’t going to get back up anytime soon.  

“Astarion-” 

“Don’t you ‘Astarion’ me with that... little disappointed pout of yours,” the vampire said. “I am literally on my knees begging here, darling. We need to stop for the night.” 

“As sad as your little theatrics are,” Shadowheart walked over to the two of you and smirked down at him before turning to you. “He does have a point. We’ve been walking all day; I think I lost all feeling in my feet about half an hour ago.”  

“And you say he is the dramatic one?” Lae’zel cut in, sneering down at you from a higher ledge. “Look at you all, complaining like children. This is nothing compared to-” 

“Yes, yes, you have endured a horrendous array of training throughout your arduous upbringing on the Astral Plane that has transformed you into the fearsome warrior you are today; we get it,” Astarion said sarcastically, earning a snort of laughter from Shadowheart and a scowl from yourself. “But I for one am not made of pure titanium and would like to rest.” 

“Fine,” Lae’zel growled. “But if the ghaik tadpole decides to turn your insides out because of your time wasting, then I shall be all too happy to end your life.” 

“It’s a deal, darling.” 

With everyone in agreement, you relieved yourself of your heavy backpack and quickly got to work on setting up a makeshift camp. Dinner was a small, cooked rabbit to share, while Astarion waited patiently for you to finish until you let him drink his fill. You didn’t miss the concerned glance shared between Shadowheart and Lae’zel but said nothing. 

As the darkness deepened and the others retired for the evening, you decided you didn’t quite want to go to sleep quite yet— a decision you were probably going to regret come morning. Regardless, the stars were out tonight, and you weren’t certain when you might next get to enjoy them during this treacherous journey, if ever. 

The tadpole behind your eye wriggled slightly, and you were worried it was going to waste your night with a migraine and unwanted whispers, but instead it settled down. You huff a sigh of relief; you were spared, for tonight anyway. 

Despite the sky above being a sight to behold, your eyes couldn’t help but keep wandering down. Astarion was sitting across from you, his eyes creased and lips in a tight line as he concentrated on the ghastly book spread across his lap. The Necromancy of Thay had been his focus of attention for these past few nights, and you were honestly starting to worry a little for him. Sure, it was you who had given it to him in the first place (after he practically begged you for it), but the way he hyper focused on it at times was... concerning, to say the least. 

You clear your throat, hoping to catch his attention. 

It doesn’t work; you try again. 

“Oh, do shut up...!” 

His sharp tone makes you recoil slightly, and the vampire mirrors you, glancing between you and the book with widened eyes. 

“O-Oh no, I didn’t mean you, my dear. It’s this blasted book,” Astarion says, frowning down at it like a disappointed parent. “I can’t make heads or tails of the damn thing.” 

“Do you... need some help?” You meekly offer, even though you didn’t know the first thing about necromancy; some things were just best left untouched in your opinion. 

“You’re a sweetheart,” he breathes out a little chuckle. “But no.” He allows the book to close with a heavy thump before his eyes trail back up, lingering on you for a moment. “But I could do with a... little distraction.” 

As the fire crackles and pops, your cheeks flare up as Astarion slowly crawls his way around, not stopping until he is only inches away from you. Not quite knowing what to do or where to look, your body goes stiff as he slowly leans in towards you.  

“What do you think, hm?” he purrs, his knuckle softly caressing your cheekbone as he brushes away a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Shall we have a little fun?” 

You nod shyly and allow him to draw you in as he cups your face and brushes his lips against yours, only to suddenly stiffen and pull away. A surge of panic jabs up from under your ribs as you’re worried that, somehow, you’ve done something to hurt him or put him off. 

“I-I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “Are you okay?” 

He eases your fretting by smoothing down your arms with an almost amused expression. “No, it’s not you, never you, I can’t stress that enough but there’s... something-,” he frowns and sniffs the air.  

Oh Gods, did you stink? You knew it had been a while since you last washed but… 

No, his attention was away from you as he quickly got to his feet and focused on what appeared to be a large boulder of sorts, about ten feet away from where you lay. 

Astarion’s eyes widen, and for the first time in a long time, he looks terrified. 

“Shit, he’s found me again. We’ve got to leave, now!” 

Suddenly, like vipers striking from the shadows, a group of monster hunters descended upon you, the night erupting into chaos as they sprang into action with ruthless efficiency. Swords and daggers glinted ominously in the dim firelight as you and the others desperately tried to defend yourselves. 

Fear and confusion gripped the group as you fought back against your assailants, but the element of surprise was with the ambushers. They moved with a deadly grace; their tactics honed through countless skirmishes. The clash of steel and cries of anguish pierced the night air.  

Desperation fueled your resistance, but they outnumbered you five to one, and that was without including their attack dogs, who had taken to separating you from the rest of the group as their personal prey. You jab your sword at their snapping maws, shout and try to make yourself look big to fend them off or, at the very least, make them think twice about attacking you.  

However, none of it seems to work as one takes a lunge at you and sinks their jaws into your arm. The jolt of shock quickly wore off to the searing heat of pain as the dog tugged and shook you like a rag doll, the beast spurred on by the snarls and barks of the others before they joined in on the mauling. 

You tried to scream but it hurt to even breathe, reducing you to mere gasping as your limbs throbbed and your head pounded. You thought you heard screaming, but the chaos of the battle muffled your senses as if you were being held underwater. You fall flat on your back as you’re pinned down to the ground, your eyes fluttering as something hot, wet and slimy drips onto your cheeks. Your eyes are met with a row of fangs; you shut them quickly, unwilling to look your death in the face. 

In that moment, an anguished cry cuts through the noise, and your eyes snap open. 

The next few moments are a blurry, bloody mess; primal and violent as you can just make out different voices—the hunter’s voices— crying out in pain along with the sound of wet tearing, of fangs ripping into flesh and blood splattering across the ground. You can only stare ahead, eyes wide with fear and body numb as the heavy weight on your chest is suddenly lifted. There’s a pitiful whine and a crunching snap, and the carnage finally stops. 

After a few moments of unbearable silence, your jumbled thoughts immediately go to your teammates, and you try to push yourself up to go help them. They were probably hurt, or worse, dead. You had to get up. Just... get up! 

‘Get up!’ 

“Get up goddamn you!” 

Your blurred vision slowly cleared as you blinked away your tears, and a familiar, blood-splattered face came into view. Gods but Astarion looked so afraid; his red eyes were wet, and his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as he gently slid his hands under your broken body to help you sit up. 

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he whispered. “He... he will not take you away from me. I won’t let him.” He looks over his shoulder and shouts, “Cleric, get over here now!” 

His lips curled into a snarl as Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, as if he was frustrated that she wasn’t healing you quick enough. As if to confirm, he snaps at her to hurry up. 

“Shouting at me isn’t going to make the process go any quicker, I need to concentrate,” Shadowheart bit back, before her gaze softened upon you as a golden light washed out from her hands and over your body. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?” 

“She is right, you must calm yourself,” Lae’zel softly ordered Astarion as she knelt by your other side. “You have already taken your rage out on the enemy, do not let it overtake you.” 

Astarion said nothing as he focused solely on you, whispering hushed promises and honeyed words that got jumbled through your dazed state, but you appreciated them all the same. You tried to show him this by curling your stiff fingers around his, the coolness of his skin bringing a brief respite to your burning hot hands. He breathes out a sad, broken chuckle and reciprocates your gesture with a soft kiss to your fingers. 

The moon bore witness to the tragedy, casting its cold, indifferent light upon the scene, but you thought it shone beautifully, all the same. 

xxx

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Bleakfather’s Throne

The world is heavy here, cold knaws at the bones of your companions making every step forward a struggle and the desolate wind sounds like a lamentation. Coming over the rise you see it, the regal corpse that rivals the surrounding mountains for imposing grandeur, the source of this dread season that seeks to smother all good things beneath its sorrow. 

Not all archfey are tricksters or stag-crowned gentry. Like the realm they inhabit, they embody stories, emotions, and the strongest aspects of nature.  The Bleakfather is an aspect of winter at it’s most cruel and deadly, as well as the sorrow that saps the will to go on living, all too common in those long, dark months. For ages untold he has sat his mountain-hewn throne, mummified by the cold winds of his domain as the depths of his misery chokes every spark of life from the land. 

So titanic in size, the bleakfather’s throne is itself a fortress inhabited by ice giants who claim decent from the archfey and raid in his name. They fear their father’s stirring from his glacial malaise, and so listen for his voice on the wind and scour the surrounding lands for any note of happiness that would defy the tyrant’s sorrowful reign. 

Adventure Hooks: 

With his eyes on becoming Jarl of the Bleakfather’s Children, an upstart Jotunn by the name of Talfjarn has assembled a warband and is going raiding in the realm of mortals, hunting the coast on longships the size of wargalleys with an enchanted storm at their back. Though he’s willing to crack towns open in the hopes of gathering pillage and slaves, he’s heard tell of a dragon slumbering somewhere up river that he wishes to test his mettle against. 

The giants have constructed a great temple in the vault of their father’s sword hand, where the trophies of great battles are heaped and the haunted wind howls between his pillar like fingers. Here there shamans divine the Bleakfather’s will, and listen for disturbances that might dare wake him.  Unluckily for our heroes, a celebration they attended ended up getting rowdy enough that its echoes were heard all the way in the feywild..and now a squad of towering winter warriors will be showing up to crash the party and put an end to their good times.   

There is power in mythology. It’s said in years beyond counting that the Bleakfather destroyed the ancient dwarven kingdom in order to steal a relic of great beauty upon which the dwarven lords and ladies swore their oath. Seeking to reunite the warring clans, a would-be hero has set her sights on breaking into the archfey’s vaults and taking back the relic.  It’s only after the party aid her in this daring task that they realize that her advisor had a very different end in mind: Waking the Bleakfather and letting him rampage through the material plane in a jealous rage, to better clear the way for a new order with the advisor at its head. 

[goodwhump-temp]

Tom Mason Whump | Falling Skies

¡Viva la revolución!

1x01 Live and Learn - Near explosions x2, tinnitus pain (brief), emotional, angry/protective (Hal) 1x02 The Armory - Hostage, held at gunpoint x4, threatened, angry, (Weaver denies helping) 1x03 Prisoners of War - Knocked unconscious (explosion), bloody forehead, worried (Hal), [soloing a skitter; punched x3, knocked down, pinned, exhausted/hyperventalating] 1x07 Sanctuary Pt.2 - Betrayed, held at gunpoint, hostage 1x08 What Hides Beneath - Worried about Weaver 1x09 Mutiny - Worried (Ben), not trusted by Weaver/betrayed x2, held at gunpoint x2, arrested, angry, pinned, thrown, manhandled, choked 1x10 Eight Hours - Sacrifice/abducted

2x01 Worlds Apart - Shot, collapse, weak, unconscious, bleeding out, surgery, [flashback; trapped, thrown x3, electrocuted x2, knocked unconscious, punched x2] fever, emergency surgery, emotional 2x02 Shall We Gather at the River? - Skitter nightmare x2, paranoid, angry outburst, eye bleeding, collapse, seizure, extreme pain, extremely painful parasite removal, freaking out/held down, bleeding, paranoid, voluntarily restrained, sacrifice, thought dead 2x03 Compass - Betrayed/kidnapped, alien discrimination/not trusted, [Pope fist-fight ; uppercut, headlocked, headslamed innto wall, thrown, decked off balcony/onto car, slammed, kicked x3], limping 2x06 Homecoming - Calls Glass Rebecca (yikes), anxiety being leader 2x07 Molon Labe - Nearly exploded x2, emotional goodbye 2x08 Death March - Depressed, blister (05:00), devastated 2x09 The Price of Greatness - Angry, forced dictatorship, arrested 2x10 A More Perfect Union - Re-arrested, captured, tortured/electrocuted, scared, tinnitus pain

3x04 At All Costs - Gutpunched, pinned, plane crash 3x05 Search and Recover - Plane crash cont., unconscious, coughing, hunted, tripped, pope arguments x10 (secretly bonding), talks about abusive drunk father, pope fight, punched x3, kicked, decked over a log, headbutted, jumps down waterfall, punched, broken ankle, great pain, given up, being meanie x2, cold and alone, collapse, shleeping for 2 days 3x06 Be Silent and Come Out - Broken ankle cont./cane, desperate, [taken hostage; held at gunpoint, car crashed, cane-less/dragged, pain x2, punched, ankle stepped on, shot at, 3x07 The Pickett Line - Ambushed/held at gunpoint x3 3x08 Strange Brew - [[???; confused x1000, ominous Weaver appearances x5, affair confrontation, hallucination (mirror), frustrated, dissociating, learns the truth] intense pain/eye attatchment x2, saved, knocked unconscious], choked, jumps from 'balcony', heartbroken, sobbing, hallucinating 3x09 Journey to Xilbalba - Angry, grieving, knocked down (explosion), trapped underground. betrayed 3x10 Brazil - 'Betrayed', punched/thrown, detained, skitter punch, great pain, scared

4x01 Ghost in the Machine - Trapped, seperated, caught in explosion, tinnitus, pain, passes out, imprisoned, abandoned/betrayed 4x02 The Eye - Knocked down, thrown, wanted man, gives himself up 4x03 Exodus - Cornered, jumps from explosion, Pope bro-hug :) 4x04 Evolve or Die - Targetted/tackled 4x05 Mind Wars - Knocked unconscious, kidnapped, held at gunpoint, punched x2 4x06 Door Number Three - Worried, dissociating, feels betrayed 4x07 Saturday Night Massacre - Betrayed, emotionally hurt, guilt, reckless, trapped under rubble, bleeding 4x08 A Thing With Feathers - Missing, trapped under rubble cont., arm caught in mouth, zapped, panic, living virus, passes out, tourniquet, extreme pain, sling 4x09 Till Death Do Us Part - Sling, Glass argument, shot at, trapped, surrounded by fire 4x10 Drawing Straws - Emotional 4x11 Space Oddity - Pain from fast acceleration, low life support, freezing, cocooned, vomiting, angry, (chat, is this real?), confused, gaslit, (it was in fact, not real), falls, punched 4x12 Shoot the Moon - Knocked down, head bleeding, ship caught in shockwave, thrown, lost in space, confused

5x01 Find Your Warrior - Emotional, lost, surrounded, rage-fueled/acting strange, hallucinating, alien bug bite 5x02 Hunger Pains - Bug bite non-stop bleeding, hallucinating, acting strange 5x03 Hatchlings - Dissociating (38:30), guilt 5x04 Pope Breaks Bad - Chased by bugs, trapped, very angry confrontation, suicidal, hallucinating 5x05 Non-Essential Personnel - Hallucinating, leg shot, limp 5x06 Respite - Bandaged/stitched, unconscious, hallucinating, panic, cane 5x07 Everybody Has Their Reasons - Surrounded at gunpoint, HORROR EPISODE BTW, angry, arrested, sentenced to death 5x08 Stalag 14th Virginia - Imprisoned 5x09 Reunion - Hallucinating, tricked TWICE, thrown, choked, used as human-shield 5x10 Reborn - Trapped/divided by rubble, pinned, impaled, blood being withdrawn, sobbing

[cosmic-whispers]

The Building Bonds (Kisses: Part 1) - Azriel x Reader

Summary: A series of one-shots highlighting significant kisses throughout your relationship with Azriel. Part 1 aka The Cheek Kiss.  (Part 2) (Part 3)

Warnings: None, just fluffy goodness

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: This little mini-series was inspired by valentine's day coming up! The idea was to post the last part on the 14th, but I don’t think I’ll be able to hit that goal. I have very limited writing time, but I guess we will see! I hope you all enjoy!

The City of Starlight was indeed a wonder to behold. It truly did take your breath away. Enormous mountains surrounded the city, sharp peaks piercing into the sky, and the long Sidra River winded through, the water sparkling like sapphires and sprinkled with many large and small ships. The city was lively; the white marble and sandstone buildings provided shelter, merriment, and protection to its citizens. You found it almost impossible to believe that you were there, but the pleasant scent of salt in the air reminded you that you were not in a dream. 

You turned back from the large window in the House of Wind and faced your companion. 

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Eloise whispered to you. The healers from the other courts kept to themselves, and you both did the same. “It’s nothing like I expected it to be.”

Being born in the Day Court, you had never had much need for travel. Your home was known for the beauty of its mountainous planes, challenging the beauty of the city before you. The beaches of Day even rivaled the perfect waters of Adriata. From a very young age, you trained with the healers, learning everything you could about your special magic, and had never stepped foot on lands that were not in Day. Eloise was the same age, traveling where you traveled and learning what you learned, and the two of you quickly became best friends. 

“It seems almost too good to be true,” you said, glancing back out the window. 

“Don’t be so gloomy (Y/N/N),” she said, wrapping an arm around you. “If anyone saw you, they’d think you came here against your will.”

“As I recall, you practically did bring me here against my will,” you responded, raising your eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes and threw her dark hair over her shoulder. “Oh, please, don’t act as if I dragged you here under threat. You’re smart enough to realize what a great opportunity this is.”

You were considered a highly skilled healer, but you knew that you still had so much to learn and had been looking for an apprenticeship. When Helion initially approached you, mentioning that the Night Court was looking to build relations and wanted to offer healing apprenticeships to healers from other courts, you had hardly believed him. If you had not been in utter shock at seeing your High Lord and having him speak directly to you, you might have laughed in his face. 

Being in the highest schooling level, Eloise had immediately volunteered, but you had been more hesitant. You did not know this court, and the cruel rumors spread about it were not favorable at all. You were comfortable in your home. You knew what to expect every day, and it scared you to take a chance. But the heckling from Eloise eventually broke you down and you had volunteered as well, lucky enough to have priority over the younger healers. 

You knew an opportunity to train under the famed healers of this court would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and you knew that you could not give up the opportunity. And yet…while able to recognize this, you still felt homesick and uncomfortable surrounded by strangers. 

After a few more minutes, the door to the large drawing room opened and the High Lord of the Night Court came in, along with an elderly woman who you assumed was a healer based on her clothing and another Illyrian warrior. 

Rhysand smiled at the group. He was a stunning male, his smile making you a bit dizzy. He also seemed quite smug, and you were sure that he knew the effect he had on every female and male in the room. “Welcome! We are so excited to host you here and to share the knowledge we have about healing,” he said. “This is Madja, our head healer. She will be in charge of your curriculum and will assess each of you individually to see where your weaknesses lie and determine the best training for you.”

You glanced at the elderly woman and she reminded you of the Day Court head healer–focused and serious, yet kind. 

As Madja took over and began explaining your new roles and how housing would work, you could not help but glance at their third companion. The Illyrian male was massive, muscles cording every inch of him. His dark, membranous wings were spread large, and dark shadows swarmed around him, nearly concealing him completely from you. 

He glanced at you, hazel eyes piercing into yours, and you felt heat immediately rush to your cheeks and the sight of his perfect face. 

What was in the water here?

You quickly glanced away, embarrassed at being caught staring, and your eyes found Rhysand’s lavender gaze. He smirked, and you had the stark realization that the daemati probably read your mind. 

You built up the iron walls of your mind, shutting him out. 

“Azriel,” the high lord said, motioning to the warrior in the room, “and Cassian, my other brother, have also offered self-defense lessons if any of you are interested.” 

You dared another glance at him, and your eyes met his again. And while he was imposing and intimidating, the soft look in his eyes made your anxiety relax. You looked back to Rhysand as he finished explaining the details of your stay, but you could still feel Azriel’s eyes lingering on the side of your face.  

Azriel glanced back at you as Rhysand left. Madja began approaching the other healers one by one, and the others began mingling amongst themselves. 

You were absolutely stunning, and he could not take his eyes off you. Your eyes were captivating, and the second they met his own, his heart inexplicably clenched tight in his chest. Your posture was reserved, your arms wrapping around you protectively as you glanced at your friend. You smiled softly at her, the curve of your lips and the crinkles by your eyes making your face come alive with emotion. He was mesmerized with you, and his shadows were no better. One of them managed to escape his hold, swarming undetected over you and reporting back to him 

“Anxious, homesick,” it whispered to him. 

Madja approached your friend, and Azriel decided to speak to you. He was always reserved and introverted, preferring to lurk in the shadows and observe. But something about you drew him near, and he knew he had to speak with you before he lost his chance. A small, unexplainable hope blossomed in his chest as he drew near, but he was quick to bury it deep, afraid of the possibility of getting his heart broken. He walked in your direction slowly, making his steps deliberately audible, and you turned towards him, a small smile gracing your face. Your enticing scent wafted toward him, and he moved closer to you, desperate for another hint of your enticing aroma. 

“Hello, I’m Azriel,” he said, smiling softly at you. 

You glanced down shyly, and he could not help but think about how adorable and tiny you were compared to him. 

You looked back up at him and gave him a timid smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Azriel. I’m (Y/N).”

Fuck. Even your voice entranced him. 

“How are you liking Velaris?” he asked.

“We haven’t had much time to explore the city, but it is very beautiful,” you said. 

“It’s my favorite place in the world,” he admitted. “I’ve traveled to all courts and beyond; nothing has ever compared to its beauty.”

A small smirk began growing on your face, and he was intrigued at the playful mischief dancing in your eyes. Surprise gripped him for a moment, and he wanted to rectify his previous statement immediately. Perhaps something has compared to the beauty of his city. 

“I suppose…” you trailed, “I mean, it’s not the Day Court, but I suppose it will do for now.”

He could not stop his chuckle, and his smile grew. “That’s not very gracious of you.”

“You’re right. I should be obsequious, fawning over my wonderful hosts. Do you think the High Lord will grant me special favors if I grovel?” you asked. What an impudent, wonderful girl. 

“Depends. What special favors do you seek?”

“I think I’d quite like a library,” you said, smiling. 

“Well, I can guarantee that your library will be spectacular,” he answered. 

“Guarantee? Are you a betting male, Azriel? I’m quite difficult to impress,” you teased, catching him by surprise once more. Azriel had read you all wrong. Despite your initially shy nature, you were quick-witted, funny, and intelligent. 

“The libraries in Velaris are wonderful,” he defended, pretending to be offended. 

“You realize Helion’s libraries are the most renowned in Prythian, right?” 

“Sound like unsubstantiated claims to me. Perhaps you can let me prove it to you.” You raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to continue. “I can show you the library here at the House of Wind,” he offered. A sudden fluttering erupted in his stomach, and he held onto the hope that you would say yes. 

“Maybe you can show us all of Velaris.” He turned to see your friend walking towards them, the smirk on her face directed straight towards you. 

“No, that’s not necessary, Azriel. You must be very busy and I don’t wish to burden you. We can take the tour with everyone else,” you said, staring pointedly at your friend. 

“I’m Eloise; it’s a pleasure Shadowsinger,” she said, smiling at him as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He nodded at her in greeting and moved his gaze back to you. 

“It really is no burden at all, (Y/N). I’d be delighted to show you around,” he said. 

“See? He would be delighted. You can come to pick us up at the dorms on Saturday morning,” Eloise said. You were going to speak further before Madja called your name, and you excused yourself. 

Eloise smirked at him, a knowing look on her face. He felt heat rush to his cheeks and ears but kept his expression stoic. 

“So, these training classes…” 

----------

The days leading to the weekend went by entirely too quickly. Your days were kept busy with healing lessons, shifts at the infirmary, and more studying when you returned to your shared dorm with Eloise. She had taken up on the offer to train with Azriel and Cassian and had been begging you to go with her. 

“Please, it’s so much fun! And you get to see Azriel,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“Eloise! He was just being nice that day; it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, I know nothing about fighting. I’ll just embarrass myself in front of him.”

“Sounds like excuses to me. I don’t know anything either, but no one makes me feel less than. And I'm learning so much! Did you know that there are Valkyries here? We get to train with them! Just imagine training with fabled warriors of the past…” she said dreamily. Eloise was always much more adventurous than you, and you envied her sometimes. The most exciting things to ever happen in your life were because of her, and you knew that her insane ideas turned into the best memories. 

“Please? I get lonely without you,” she pouted. "I'll do all your laundry for a month!"

“Fine, I’ll tag along next week,” you gave in, and she squealed. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten that you practically forced Azriel to give us a tour of the city tomorrow.”

“Oh, please! He would have offered it himself if I hadn’t suggested it.”

As you fell asleep that night, your stomach filling with butterflies and excitement of seeing Azriel in the morning, you could not help but think of what Eloise said, and hope began growing in your heart. You dreamed of comforting shadows and a large pair of wings.

You rose early the following morning, refreshed and excited for the day. You knew Azriel was a very busy male, and you felt giddy that he was taking the time to show you around the city. You dressed in a casual green dress, braiding your hair back and away from your face. You felt comfortable and confident, and although there was a possibility that this would fizzle out and turn into nothing more than a fond memory like all the other times, you held out hope for a chance. 

You made your way into the living room of your small quarters just as there was a knock on the door. 

Your heart jumped, and a smile spread on your face. You made your way to the door, opened it, and found Azriel leaning on the doorframe. He smiled gently when he saw you, and you answered with a smile of your own. 

“Good morning Azriel,” you said, your mind blank for a moment at how handsome the Illyrian before you was. His eyes, his face, his wings… You felt heat rush up your chest and quickly turned back inside, unable to stare at him in those Cauldron-cursed leathers any longer. 

“Please, come in. I’m going to see if Eloise is ready.”

You found her in the living room, still in her pajamas and wrapped tightly in a blanket. You froze for a moment and knew exactly what your best friend was plotting. 

“Good morning, my lovely (Y/N/N). And you, Azriel. It seems as if I woke up a bit under the weather. I think I’m going to sit this one out, but you two go on without me.”

“How strange, you were perfectly healthy yesterday,” you said, looking pointedly at her. 

She forced a slight cough and you rolled your eyes at her. “Well, you know how these things are. They get you out of nowhere.”

“I’ll heal you,” you insisted. 

“No, no, don’t you worry about me. It’s nothing that some rest and a good cup of tea won’t help with. You two have fun,” she said, winking conspicuously at you, making the heat on your face intensify and you were afraid to look in the Shadowsinger’s direction. A hand, highlighted in blue light from his siphon, appeared before you. 

“Shall we?”

You looked back at him, his hazel eyes shining brightly in amusement. You took his hand, the ridges of his scars like valleys and canyons. He hesitated for a moment, staring down at your joined hands. 

“I hope you feel better, Eloise,” he said and led you out the door. 

The sun was bright in the sky, and a light breeze swept across your skin. You looked over at Azriel and found his gaze already on you. 

“Are you hungry? I figured we could take a walk and have breakfast after,” he said. 

“Yes, that sounds great.”

He took you through the Rainbow atop a hill, a brightly colored part of the city filled with the strumming of musicians' instruments, paint strokes on artists' canvases, and twirls of the street performers. The edge of the river flooded the air with a salty breeze, and you found yourself falling in love with the merriment before you. Azriel even pointed out the sculpture garden to you and promised to bring you exploring soon. That had made your heart jump, and if he noticed, he did not say anything. 

He brought you to a quaint, small breakfast cafe. If you had not been paying attention, you might have missed it completely. 

The older woman behind the counter glanced up, and her face completely lit up when she spotted Azriel. She smiled wide and rushed to the front of the store, bringing his large frame into a warm hug. 

“Azriel! It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed. 

“You too, Melva. I apologize I haven’t been around for a while, I’ve been incredibly busy,” he said, returning the hug and smiling gently at her. You watched the exchange with a growing smile, and your heart warmed at how much affection this woman showed him. 

“Oh, and who is this?” she said, smiling at you.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, reaching a hand out to shake, but she waved it off and pulled you into a hug. 

“Any friend of Azriel’s is a friend of mine,” she said. “Come, sit and I will get started on your food,” she said and led you to a cafe table for two. There were several other patrons scattered throughout, but she sat you far away from them to maintain privacy. 

“Same as always, Malva,” Azriel said, smiling at her, and she handed you a menu. 

“Of course. I’ll bring you both some water. Take your time going through the menu, darling,” she said to you and walked away. 

You looked up at him and smiled. “So, come here often?” you asked. 

His cheeks darkened and he smiled sheepishly. Despite all the rumors you’ve heard of the feared beast that was supposed to be the Shadowsinger before you, the only word you could think of to describe him was adorable. 

“What gave it away?”

“I’m quite observant.”

“Perhaps you should work as one of my spies,” he teased and you laughed. 

“I discovered this place nearly a century ago. Kept coming because the food was so good, and Melva forced her way into becoming like a crazy aunt to me. When her mate died, I promised myself I would come here as often as I could and check up on her, make sure she’s doing alright,” he said. 

“That’s very sweet of you, Azriel,” you said, your heart warming at the male in front of you. You were so fucked.  

After a hearty breakfast, you made your way to Azriel’s favorite bookstore. The building was enormous, multiple floors filled with shelves and piles of book after book. An enormous spiral staircase filled the center of the building leading to hallways upon hallways and the unmistakable scent of the earthy pages carried through the air. 

“Wow, this is so beautiful,” you said. 

The two of you made your way through the sections, searching for your next read.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asked you. 

“Crimson Nights,” you said. The classic read had been a haunting horror tale, filled with murder, cults, and witches and you had loved every second of it. 

He looked surprised for a moment. “A horror?”

“You seem surprised,” you teased.

“You seem way too sweet to love something that dark,” he teased right back. 

You felt heat rush to your face and turned quickly to the shelf next to you, picking out a random book to occupy your hands with something. 

“That’s my favorite book,” he said. You glanced down at the tome in your hand, surprised. The Archer. 

“What a coincidence,” you marveled. “I've never read it. What’s it about?”

“It’s about a warrior who struggles with his guilt and self-worth,” he said. He looked a bit embarrassed for a moment. “It’s a bit on the nose, I suppose, but it’s excellent.”

“I’ll give it a chance,” you said, smiling at him. "I hope he does realize his self-worth by the end."

He smiled bashfully and changed the subject. “I own the Second Edition,” he said proudly. You could tell by his tone and the look on his face that he treasured his collection. 

“Just the Second?” you teased, looking back at him with a smirk. 

“It’s not easy finding a First Edition,” he defended. “There were only 10 copies made.”

“I’ll overlook it this time,” you said, keeping the book in your hands and continuing to explore. 

You left the bookstore with three new books and an extra one for Eloise. Despite her little trick that morning, you could not help but feel grateful that you were able to spend the time getting to know Azriel better. You both walked past a busy crowd, and his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers. You told yourself it was just so that you didn’t get lost in the crowd, but your heart began racing once you realized he did not let your hand go until he reached the front door of your dorm. 

“Thank you so much for today, Azriel,” you smiled at him. “I had a lot of fun.”

“It was my pleasure, sweetness,” he said. The new nickname made your heart jump, and you shifted your eyes away from him. 

He squeezed your hand, and you looked back up at him. He took a step closer to you and smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded and turned back to enter your apartment, a happy smile on your face, and your heart felt full and excited. You didn’t even mind the knowing smirk on your best friend’s face. 

-----------

Despite having to wake up at an unholy hour on Monday morning to be able to make it on time for training, you were excited. You had spent practically the entire rest of your weekend gushing about Azriel to Eloise. You didn’t want to get your hopes up only to end up with a broken heart, but you felt connected to him and hoped that he felt the same way. 

Once you made it to the training field, you looked around for him. There was another Illyrian warrior you had never met speaking to a group of females, and you assumed this was Cassian. They all turned to look your way as you walked into the training room. 

“Good morning Eloise,” he said. 

“Good morning, everyone,” she responded and gestured to you. “This is my best friend, (Y/N). She’s going to be joining us for training!”

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he looked at you. “Oh, so you’re (Y/N)!” he exclaimed and smiled widely at you. You were confused for a moment, and a tall, beautiful female cut in quickly. 

“Eloise talks about you all the time,” she said. “I’m Nesta. That’s Gwyn and Emorie.” 

The other two females waved at you, and you waved back, smiling shyly at them. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m excited to learn some self-defense. But, I must warn you, I don’t really know anything about it, so you might have your work cut out for you.”

The mischievous grin that spread on Cassian’s face caused a trickle of fear to travel through you. “Excellent. Let’s get started then.”

As you got into position to learn stretches, you looked around for your Spymaster. Eloise seemed to have the same thought as you did.  

“Where is Azriel today?” she asked. 

“Out on a mission,” Cassian said, showing you where to position your foot to get the deepest stretch in your hamstring. 

Your stomach tightened, and worry began to cloud your mind. The burning from the stretch in your leg was non-existent for that brief moment of panic. “Is everything all right? Is he safe?” 

Cassian looked at you with a curious expression, and you wondered if you had been too obvious in your interest for his friend. “He’ll be alright. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “It’s actually kind of a good thing. His birthday is coming up in two weeks and this gives us ample time to plan a surprise birthday party. You should come!”

“To the party?”

“Yes, he’ll love to see you there,” he said and winked at you. 

You felt heat rush to your face and were glad to have an excuse to look away from him when he asked you to switch legs.

“I know I just met him, but Azriel doesn't seem like the type to have wild parties where half the city is invited,” you commented, sinking deeper into the stretch and wincing at the burn. 

“I’m not inviting half the city. I’m inviting you,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “And you, too, Eloise.”

“We will be there!” she answered, also sending a wink your way.

You rolled your eyes and turned your focus back to the workout you were doing, but you couldn't help but feel grateful to your best friend. All the good things recently in your life were thanks to her. You had thought that you would feel homesick and lonely, but thanks to her intervention, you met Azriel, and Velaris was beginning to feel almost like home.  

--------

The morning of Azriel’s party, you were awakened entirely too early by your trouble-making best friend. She insisted on getting up early to do your hair and makeup, and you had to remind her that it was a small get-together, not a grand ball. She didn’t seem to pay you any mind, rambling about how this was the first time you went to do something fun that did not involve healing or training. 

All day long, your thoughts trailed back to the gift waiting in your room. While you knew he would appreciate it, your stomach still rumbled nervously at how he would react. After spending time with the Shadowsinger, you knew he was entirely too considerate and too reserved to express outward dislike, so you knew that his reaction was not what was making you nervous. You wanted him to see that you cared for him and listened to him. You desperately hoped that he liked his gift. 

You wore a brand new blue dress–honoring Azriel’s siphons. It was flowy and pretty, little pieces of fabric twisted together to form small flowers on the skirt and the off-the-shoulder sleeves flattering your figure. You put some light makeup on and styled your hair down for the first time in a long time. 

Eloise squealed when she saw you. “You look so beautiful!” she said, bounding towards you and pulling you into a bear hug. 

“Thanks, El. You look very beautiful, too!”

“Oh, I know,” she said. Her black halter dress hugged her tall figure perfectly and the high bun she wore made her sharp features more prominent. “But you! Oh, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at her and fixed her with a pointed stare. “Don’t start.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving a hand at you. “Let’s go!”

---------

When Azriel stepped into the townhouse after a long day of work, all he wanted to do was take a bath, read a book, and go to sleep. 

That was not to be.

His shadows informed him of the gathering of people attempting to hide in the dark. He heaved a sigh and was not able to control the smile that bloomed on his face. This Cauldron-cursed family would not leave him alone and he would not have it any other way.

As he stepped into the common room and the inhabitants yelled “Surprise!” right at him, he pretended to be shocked. 

“Happy birthday, brother!” Cassian yelled as he rushed towards him and tackled him in a bear hug. The male lifted Azriel off his feet, and he laughed. 

Looking around the room filled with his closest friends--his family, he was pleasantly surprised to find you. Cauldron end him, you were absolutely ravishing, the shade of blue of your dress perfectly matching his siphons, and as the rest of his family greeted him, he was distracted, his eyes unable to tear away from you for more than a few moments. 

Despite the party transpiring for over an hour, he had not had the chance to speak to you for more than a few moments. As soon as he approached you, someone else would come to drag him to a different conversation. Or you would be engrossed in a conversation with Nesta or Mor or Feyre. All he wanted was a moment to speak to you alone, but it seemed everyone in the room was intent on not letting that happen. 

“Time for gifts!” an intoxicated Mor yelled out, and everyone gathered around in a large circle in the room. 

Mor grabbed the first gift off the table that hosted them. 

“This one is from me!” He opened the gift bag and brought out an oral hygiene kit. He was confused for a moment and wondered if Mor was trying to subtly send him a message, but he smiled and nodded when she looked at him expectantly. 

“I’m so glad you like it! Alright, next gift!” She handed him a wrapped gift. 

“That one is from me,” your voice carried from across the room, and his eyes met yours. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, but you waved him off. 

He carefully tore off the wrapping paper. It was a book. As he turned it over to read the cover, his hands froze, and his eyes widened in shock. He looked up at you, disbelieving, and all you did was smirk. He opened the front cover, mindful of the frail pages and edge, just to check, and there it was. A First Edition copy of his favorite book. All he could do for a few moments was stare at the book and then stare back at you. 

“(Y/N), this is…” he trailed off, speechless for one of the few times in his long life. 

“The best gift you’ve ever gotten? You’re welcome, Azriel,” you teased again. Despite your words, he could sense the nervousness in the shifting of your eyes and the biting of your lip. Why would you be nervous? This was the best gift he had ever received. He knew how difficult it was to find; he was afraid to ask what you had done to secure it. To gift it to him. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. Your smile turned shy at the intensity of his gaze, and he knew he was completely done for. He rose from his seat and approached you. He leaned far down to reach you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your warm body close to his. He let go after a few short moments, keenly aware of the looks and smirks directed his way from the rest of his family. Before he could step away, your sweet scent overwhelmed his senses, and he could not stop himself from leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on the soft skin of your cheek. You seemed shocked for a moment and looked up at him with wide, dazed eyes. He wished he could stare at you forever. 

“Wow…that good, huh?”

“Yes,” he repeated, the smile still etched on his face. He did not think he had ever smiled this much for anyone before, but it escaped him whenever you were near. He could not bring himself to mind. “It’s the best gift I’ve gotten.”

“Well, I wanted to do something nice for you,” you whispered. “I was very nervous when I first got here, but you became my friend and made me feel at home. Thank you, Azriel.”

His heart melted and filled with joy. “Anytime.” One of the shadows he had tightly reeled in escaped from his hold and danced around the skin of your wrist and you giggled.

The rest of the night was spent opening the rest of his gifts from his family, sharing memories, laughs, and drinks, and he spent it all by your side.

Taglist: @percyjacksonspeen @theravenphoenix26 @meritxellao, @icey--stars @blurredlamplight @kuraikei @everyonehatescarmen, @96jnie @alexboshallex @h0peless-r0m4ntic888 @issybee0611 @alainabooks143 @overcaffeinated-ginger @fuckinhellyall @brekkershadowsinger @poshestpigeon @kennedy-brooke

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[booksofstars]

warrior cats funerary rites ideas below the cut

(tw for funerals, religious themes, animal death, cremation, scavenging, and brief discussion of preventing funeral rites)

thunderclan buries their dead after a vigil, just like in the books. but why? thunderclanners believe the vigil is the most important part of the funeral. its a final goodbye to the loved one, as well as a signal to let the cat know they are free to travel the starry path to silverpelt and take their place there. the body returns to the earth, as thunderclan believes all living things must. the cycle goes on.

riverclan believes the river to be a holy site, providing for cats in life and becoming their path to starclan in death. riverclan performs cremations, and spreads the ashes of the cat in the river or along the riverbank to be taken to starclan. they share stories during a celebration of life, as the healers take care of beginning the cremation process and then join the rest of the clan. important possessions are often burned with the cat, so that they may join them in starclan.

shadowclan, with its abundance of scavengers, reveres them in their funerary practices. in their marshy territory, cats were laid to rest in the driest patches of mud alongside their favorite foods in life, from steamed toads to juniper teas. in the secluded place they are left to the scavengers that shadowclan believes carries the spirits of the cats to starclan, while their bones sink back into the earth to grow into new greenery.

windclan, being the most religious of the clans, spend much of their funerals in hymn and prayer. they lay a cat out in the clearest part of camp with their favorite flowers, praying to starclan that the cat will run and hunt rabbits forevermore in starclan. their rites are by far the most religion-oriented of any clan, focusing on prayer rather than stories of the cat’s life. afterwards, windclan often makes the cats favorite meal and shares it underneath the stars as a final send off. a funerary precession then buries the cat beneath the tallest hill, closest to starclan.

the story goes that the founder of ancient skyclan outlawed funerals, as so of them were for cats that died at his claws. no one knows for certain.

in reality, ancient skyclan buried their dead at the roots of trees, believing cats would be reincarnated into them in their next life. the funerals were short in early skyclan, often a few simple prayers. later ancient skyclan often gave powerful speeches and poetry to honor the fallen. usually only family members attended. at the end of a funeral, usually at sunset, the cats would wait there until the final bird sung.

modern skyclan, being founded by kittypets, is heavily influenced by their traditions. their funerals are true celebrations of life, with everything from dancing, to singing, to playing instruments. they believe joy is the best way to send off the deceased, and often believe in the idea of the rainbow bridge as kittypets may. skyclanners prefer to hold their funerals on sunny days, a sight more common in the gorge than the lake territories. modern skyclan also keeps a graveyard, with carved clay plaques to commemorate the cats as they were in life. many believe cats who go uncelebrated cannot move on from the mortal plane until they are.

bloodclan buries their dead quickly and quietly, usually in parks. the family may perform their own rites, but this is a small and heavily varied ceremony. their collars, however, are preserved and cared for to honor the cat who once bore it.

warriorclan, like kittypets, believe in the rainbow bridge. they bury cats on sunny days and share stories of their lives. they believe all dead cats go to a better place.

kittypets vary in their views and practices, especially towards the nature of death and the afterlife. the concept of the rainbow bridge is common but not collective. many kittypets, loners, and rogues have no funerals nor strong beliefs at all.

[shellem15]

The Nine Hells of Baator

As a devil fangirl, I finally decided to write a basic overview of the Nine Hells, which has consumed my brain since forever. While most of this is taken straight from forgotten realms lore (shoutout to the wiki!), I've put my own spin on things and emphasized certain details I found interesting. The list of sins associated with each layer (Wrath, Fear, Greed, Lust, Deceit, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, and Pride) is taken from the Enneagram sins, because I needed 9 of them instead of just 7.

I might decide to go more into depth for each layer/archdevil, but no promises!

Overview:

The Nine Hells of Baator is a plane of pure law and evil, a place where tyranny reigns supreme. Devils, or Baatezu, make their home here, crafted from the souls of the damned and eternally bound to serve their betters. The Hells consist of nine descending layers of sin and punishment, connected by the flowing waters of the river Styx. Each layer is ruled by an Archdevil, a devil of immense power and influence who exerts total control over their domain. While the layers are distinct, they are still interconnected, each serving a purpose to further the Hells' agenda.

Devilish society is centered around power, hierarchy, and order, with those without power seeking to claim it and those with power seeking to keep it. The Blood War, the endless conflict between Devils and Demons, keeps the Hells running; an eternal enmity that keeps the populace from turning against their masters. Everything in the Hells ultimately serves to further the goals of Asmodeus, the Lord and Master of this dark domain.

Avernus:

The first layer of Hell is Avernus, a blasted plane of endless trenches and rivers of blood. It is a war-torn battlefield, the Hells' first line of defense against the ceaseless hordes of demon-kind. This is the layer of Wrath, of eternal bloodshed and unending hatred. The armies of the Hells are stationed here, ready to be thrown to the crushing wheel of the Blood War.

Avernus is ruled over by their fell general, the Archduchess Zariel. A fearsome warrior—a fallen angel—who lives for the kill, for the next great conquest.

Dis:

The second layer of Hell is Dis, a plane of those who watch, and those who are watched. An iron city, one of smoke and steel and hidden eyes. This is the layer of Fear, whose denizens live in terror of those beyond the walls—and of those within, as well. Dis acts as a multi-tool for the Hells: it is a hub of interplanar trade, a great titan of industry that produces the arms and means needed to fuel the Blood War, and, most critically, it contains the greatest surveillance network in the outer planes. Knowledge is as valuable as souls in the streets of Dis.

The overseer of this foul city is the Archduke Dispater, an old devil, paranoid about usurpation despite the tight grip he keeps over his domain. He locks himself away in his iron tower, a panopticon from which he monitors all dealings in his realm.

Minarous:

The third layer of Hell is Minarous, a plane of those who have, and those who have not. It is a thick swampland, home to monstrosities that slither and crawl through the muck and mud. This is the layer of Greed, of crushing poverty, sinking debt, and grabbing hands. The heart of this fetid realm is the Bank of Minarous, the center of all commerce in the Nine Hells. This is only bank allowed to mint soul coins, the official currency of the Hells. The Blood War runs on the souls of the damned, and all souls pass through Minarous' coffers.

The master of the bank is the Archduke Mammon, a miserly, serpentine devil who sits upon a hoard larger than any dragon's. He is a devil loved by none, but money speaks louder than words, and power is oft bought rather than earned.

Phlethegos:

The fourth layer of Hell is Phlethegos, a plane of flame and rock, pleasure and penance, judges and those who whisper in their ears. The great courts of the Hells reside in this volcanic realm, and so too do the pleasure houses and casinos. This is the layer of Lust, of tipped scales and weighted dice, of burning passion underneath cool indifference, of great rewards and dire consequences. Law and order is the backbone of Hellish society, and it is here where "justice" is served.

Reflecting the dual nature of Phlethegos, the rulers of this place are the Archduke Belial and Archduchess Fierna. Belial is the original ruler of the fourth Hell, the great Justiciar who presides over the court system. Fierna is the newcomer, Belial's daughter and rising challenger, the Lady of Lusts and Pleasures. On the surface, it seems that father and daughter are at odds, each vying for power over the other; Much like their realm, however, their interests are more entwined then one might think.

Stygia:

The fifth layer of Hell is Stygia, a plane of lies and exaggerations, of truths distorted in icy reflections. A frozen ocean of dark waters and bright glaciers blinding those who gaze into the ice. This is the layer of Deceit, of endless news cycles and lies sold as truths. A war cannot be fought without support, and the broadcasts of the fifth ensure the thirst for blood among Hell's populace is never sated.

The chief of this artic bureau is the Archduke Levistus, a handsome, silver-tongued devil frozen in a vast glacier. The conniving charlatan was trapped as punishment for his own treachery, and now can only speak though the forked tongues of his servantry.

Malbolge:

The sixth layer of Hell is Malbolge, a twisted plane of cushioned cellblocks, of iron bars and shackles disguised as sweet salvation. It is an endless labyrinth, a prison of luxury and extravagance which traps its inmates like flies in honey. This is the layer of Gluttony, where excess and indulgence bind souls tighter than any chain. Even the Hells have its lawbreakers, its criminals and traitors, and here is where those souls are sentenced, forced to pay penance for their crimes and misdeeds.

The warden of this dreadful prison is the Archduchess Glasya, Princess of the Hells and daughter of Asmodeus. While she oversees the Hells' penal system, she is also the Hells' greatest criminal, bending Baator's laws and rules as far as she can while skirting her way out of consequences.

Maladomini:

The seventh layer of Hell is Maladomini, a once-bustling plane now fallen to rot and ruin. It is a place of the lost and forgotten, of decaying cities, crumbling infrastructure, and long-abandoned ghost towns. This is the layer of Sloth, of malicious negligence and crushing complacency, of rusted factories and strip-mines long since dried up. Bureaucracy is the bane of progress, and here, where all the records in the Hells are kept and stored, bureaucracy reigns supreme.

The chief executive of this putrid domain is the Archduke Baalzebul, the Lord of the Flies. Once a beautiful angel of the Heavens themselves, he is now as grotesque and wretched as the realm he rules.

Cania:

The eighth layer of Hell is Cania, a plane of melting ice and rapid development, of forbidden knowledge and those who wield it. It is a frozen mountain range, one where vast glaciers and snow-capped peaks hide secret laboratories and great libraries, where "progress" is made at the expense of morality and reason. This is the layer of Envy, of the relentless strive to be greater than your peers, of the pain one feels at others' success. The Blood War demands bigger weapons and greater firepower, and Cania is at the forefront of these advancements.

The mastermind behind this frigid realm is the Archduke Mephistopheles, the Hells' greatest wizard and second-most powerful Archdevil. In his resentment of his fellows, the Lord of Hellfire has thrown himself to invention and experimentation, creating new and terrible magics that melt the very foundations of his icy domain.

Nessus:

The ninth and lowest layer of Hell is Nessus, a plane of those who rule and hold themselves above all else—a plane of power itself. It is a wind-swept wasteland scarred by endless chasms and ravines, where grand citadels and fortresses light up the darkest trenches in the Outer Planes; where the greatest deals are struck behind closed doors. This is the layer of Pride, of great hubris and unwavering conviction—the mother of all vices. It is here where laws are made and authority is unchallenged, where power is held as most sacred and holy. All the Hells are beholden to the will of Nessus.

The Lord of this realm, and of all the Hells, is the Archduke Asmodeus. The greatest of all devils, the Lord of Lies and Prince of Evil, the mastermind behind the Hellish Project. He is ancient and powerful, unchallenged in his dominion, and a being of pure, unfettered arrogance. A tyrant who seeks absolute domination over all of reality, and one willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that goal.

[pigeonclaw]

I've been trying so figure out my feelings on the lore introduced in Ivypool's Heart, because it's complicated.

The stuff about Galestar? Pretty fun tbh. I like the idea of the Clans getting a major shakeup, even if it happened in the distant past. I wonder if we'll find out where the rest of StormClan went. I also really enjoy this idea that Clans could split off and move away and form something new at any time. It helps make the Warriors world feel... big again? I remember reading this series 15 years ago under the assumption that cats in the wild in this series just naturally live like this. Then the setting expanded, DotC came along, and suddenly the Clans felt insignificant and stifling in a tiny world. I can't properly explain it. But the old feeling of wonder has come back a bit for me now, and that's lovely.

The spiritual stuff is more complicated. I like the concept that cats who fade completely still exist in some small way, now a part of the earth. They're gone, but their presence still has an effect. What I'm unsure about is the idea of all the cat afterlives seemingly existing in a single plane all side by side and connected by a river. Giving afterlives specific geography like that ruins some of the mystique for me. It also is weird when combined with some of the StarClan and Dark Forest lore we got from TBC (though in all fairness, TBC as a whole is pretty weird combined with the lore we got from OotS). Back in TNP, StarClan talked about how they had to make a journey just like the living Clans, without explaining it, and I'm pretty sure the Erins said that this was left intentionally vague, and I always thought that was a wise choice.

So while I'm kinda meh on that stuff, at the same time, I do like that the wildcats are the ones who possess this knowledge and the ability to zoom out and see the spiritual cat realm as a bigger picture. They should be the most experienced — this is their ancestral home, far moreso than the feral cats we know. If any cats have the ability to connect so deeply with the earth, water, and sky as to understand the afterlife in this deeper way, yeah, it would be the cats who have spent thousands of years longer on this piece of land. It makes sense to me.

[ladydaybreaker]

Nations of "Of Nightshade and Woodsmoke"

So someone asked about the nations of this little au...so Imma do that to take my mind off of...everything...right now.

The nations' names are Aenea, Cyrius, Kyeva, Theialos, Kemetah, and Elios.

Aenea is an "everywhere and nowhere" based country though I took a heavy influence from Ireland and the heavily wooded lands of the US. It's mostly forests and lakes, with a port on the coast which made it valuable. It's people are tall, graceful…almost ethereal when they're fully grown. Their ears are slightly curved and their eyes reflect light. Their hair is more like feathers and shimmers with incandescent light under moon and star. They are incredibly light on their feet with quiet treads and very rarely take damage from a fall (always landed on their feet). They are "Beloved by the Night", so a lot of nocturnal creatures went into how I made them…cats, bats, owls etc. They have an accent that is almost breathy and low…but it sounds like it's from everywhere and nowhere. Because of their quiet tread and keen eyesight/hearing and ability to land catlike from long falls...they are often thought to be thieves. Uzi is from here.

Cyrius is more based on the Midwest/Plains States/Northwest US. Pine forests and rolling plains, the wildlife here is numerous and rather large. The people have many colors in regards to skin and hair…though they're all curly/wavy. Their eyes are shades of amber/orange/brown and very rarely husky blue. Some have patterns that look more like stripes or scales on their skin. Some have horns of crystal. Some have claws of the same. Their teeth are sharper than most and their fingernails and hair grow incredibly quickly. They are incredibly warlike and good horsemen/women. Their "tithe" to the empire isn't with courtesans…it's warriors. And it's every year they're taken (lot of rebellion here). Emmett is from here, and he was 10 when he was taken to Elios.

Kyeva is Scandanavia/Russia based. Thick pine forests frosted with snow, planes of ice and towers of glaciers on the northern sea, mountains cold and bitter as the people themselves. The people here are tall, well built with hair shades from black to deep indigo but frosted with white at the bottom and is ALWAYS straight as icecicles. Their skin is almost always snow-paper white and has thousands of tiny crystals frosted over it that cause a wavering effect (snow blindness). Their eyes are probably the most striking...shades of slate blue/grey that has bright silver/white "cracks" and/or a snowflake in the iris. The latter is as if the pupil is the snowflake's heart. They are known for being extremely hardy and tough people with an affinity for the cold...they do not do well in warmer climates or with fire. They are often employed as miners, warriors, or guides in the snowy north. Doll is from here.

Theialos is Greek/Mediterranian based. Rolling hills of olive and laurel trees on a coast of white beaches and azure-turquois waters with mountains to the east. The people there are...well...imagine a greek statue. Beautiful and chiseled as if from marble...though they tend to be more golden tan as if spending all their life in the sun. They have eyes as bright and colorful as gemstones. They also have what is called a "birthstone" somewhere on their body. A beautiful gem that grows with them and is surrounded by a gold 'mount'. These are incredibly sensitive and can be used against the Theialosian for good (intimacy or stress relief) or evil (torture). Their people are incredibly charismatic and their most notable trait is the ability to know when someone is lying to them...or convince them to do what they want. They are heavily employed as Assassins. Thad and Lizzy are from here.

Kemetah is Egyptian/Mediterranian in feel as well. It's the sister nation to Theialos and is on the other side of the mountain border, a great river and oasises dot the shimmering sands full of ground up gemstones that seem to blaze with the setting sun amidst many spires of crystal. The people here are olive skinned...with gemstones that range from apple seed sized to quarter sized dotting their skin in beautiful patterns that strangely enough seem to keep them cool. Their hair colors are also very bright and jewel-like. Gemstones, dyes and salt are their exports. They do not do well in the dark as they claim to hear 'whispers' and begin to experience panic attacks if left in a dark room too long. They are natural dancers and singers. Rebecca and Darren are from here.

Elios is based heavily over Great Britain and it's lands it used to rule over. Split into three regions: Northern, Central, and Southern. Northern Elios is more based on Ireland/Scotland as it shares a border with Northern Aenea (Sam is from here!). Central Elios was based more on England and it's lower born citizens have more of a cockney-ish accent (J is from Central Elios). Southen Elios is where the capital lies, bordering southern Aenea and Theialos (western and eastern respectively) and has more of an Australian accent sounding people (Tessa and V are from here). They have eyes that seem to blaze and flicker like flames in the sunlight with freckles of molten gold on their bodies. They are more attuned with fire and are unlikely to be burned in the event of one. Iron, Steel, and glass are their exports. They are the main ruling faction and have conquered all the above nations in various wars.

To the south of Elios and Kemetah are jungles which have not been conquered (though the Eliosian Empire is working on that.) The east of Kemetah is steppes and badlands that have been blasted by some ancient war with the gods and man that no man can live in. To the west of Aenea is ocean and to the north of Kyeva is nothing but winter wasteland. It is unknown if there is more beyond these.

[dailycharacteroption]

Kraken Slayer (Paladin Archetype)

(art by Fran-Hdez on DeviantArt)

I can’t remember how many times I’ve said it, but I don’t get how D&D and Pathfinder did krakens as a concept.

Giant predatory squid that attacks ships? Check.

It’s also a fully intelligent creature and is almost always a tyrant monster that enslaves and rules over smaller aquatic beings, conjures storms to bring trouble to surface mortals, and so on…. Ok? Why??

Intellectually, I understand, D&D needed a giant monstrous threat underwater which could be like a dragon in not just power level but scheming, but they had already made the classic chromatic dragons all terrestrial, leaving only the bronze dragon, a metallic dragon, as the only one of the core 10 that live in the ocean. (Also, they probably were at least a little influenced by Cthulhu, but were not keen to make a tentacled monstrous overlord too close to it while Chaosium’s Call of Cthulhu RPG had the rights to use those monsters directly.)

But the fact that kraken are such powerful and typically evil aquatic monsters alongside the alghollthu means that to the aquatic peoples living below the waves, they fill much the same role in their folklore, as great evils that heroes must arise to slay on occasion.

Enter the kraken slayer, a form of paladin seen among aquatic cultures that seeks to protect others from the depredations of the evil that lurks in the depths, be they krakens, alghollthu, cults of monstrous underwater gods, and so on.

The tradition originated among the tritons, those goodly aquatic folk that originated from the Plane of Water, which does have it’s own kraken problems on occasion. However, it has since spread to other goodly peoples beneath the waves, (and in theory, above the waves as well, assuming that such heroes have a method of consistently surviving and moving freely underwater.)

As is fitting of their focus, these divine warriors alter their smite slightly so that it is aquatic and water-based evils that particularly suffer when they unleash their divine wrath upon them.

They also gain immunity to poison in addition to disease, useful given how many toxic foes there are beneath the waves.

Their divine bonds also vary, with those that bond with their weapons eschewing elemental damage to instead improve their weapon’s performance in water. Meanwhile, those that choose a mount must bond with a creature suitable for the waves, big enough to cling to while it swims, though they thankfully do not limit you on this as long as it makes sense.

Krakens, like their mundane cephalopod kin and many other creatures, use grappling and constriction as weapons, and so their aura blesses them and those nearby with the ability to slip free of grapples with surprising ease.

With no ability to magically grant freedom of movement, this archetype is pretty much exclusive to the aquatic playable ancestries unless you’re willing to invest a lot in magical solutions. That being said, it’s a pretty good way to alter the abilities of a paladin to better serve being underwater. Definitely consider it if you’re playing both an aquatic ancestry and a paladin, and if the campaign takes place at least a considerable bit underwater.

The lore for the archetype states that these warriors must balance hunting the monsters of the deep with protecting their people from them, but I find that’s primarily what the paladin experience is like: remembering that you are a defender of the people first, and not abandon them to chase down the wicked out of bloodlust and zealotry.

The southern part of Malgalos Rainforest opens up into a river delta where the massive mangrove trees rise out of the silt, and the waters run deep indeed in places. Long have the vanara of that region held alliance with the tritons of the deeper water, and a few have even learned a few arts from them, using magic to join them as defenders of the continental shelf, fighting off creatures from darker waters.

Though he dislikes the facility on principal, the kraken slayer Shophis has agreed to attend the grand opening of Balkas the Inscruitable’s underwater palace, which comes complete with a menagerie with simulated environments where monsters from around the world are kept, such as bloodbrush from the Sanaan Desert, and so on. However, Balkas’ underwater jewel has raise the interest of several underwater powers that seek to either destroy it, or worse, claim it for their own.

For generations, the kraken slayer order of the merfolk city of Angilas has only been so in name only, being no krakens sighted in the region for nearly two centuries. However, just because they are not seen does not mean they are not present, and the recent arrival of a group of adventurers may force the hand of the clandestine cephalopod that has been manipulating their society from the shadows.

[gith-egg]

I still have no finished art of my lil gith dude but I want to share him with yall so fuck it I'm making a post about him anyway

Drik ▪︎ Githyanki ▪︎ Ranger

Pronouns: He/They

Age: 22

Height: 6'0 / 184cm

Build: Scrawny, even by Gith standards

Alignment: Chaotic Tired™

Weapon: Heavy crossbow that looks comically way too big for him to use (and almost is)

Companion: Barley, his "cat"*

*half-undead half-gremishka half-cat

Long backstory below cut

In a crèche nestled deep in the Sunset Mountains, a young githyanki was condemned to death. Barely into its fourth year of living, the child had been frail and sickly almost from the start, and would not have been coddled even this long were it not for a particularly lenient custodian. It had become clear the child would not be fit to work, much less fight; to cull it now was as much mercy as it was pragmatism.

And then the child disappeared.

The ability to skim the boundary of the Astral Plane to achieve feats of great mobility is hallmark of githyanki warriors. This is a skill honed through years of disciplined training. Little wonder, then, that the toddler accidentally accomplishing it for the first time in the sheer panic of impending slaughter did so directly into a freezing river.

Perhaps a greater miracle that a dwarven merchant caravan was passing close enough for the sorry thing to be retrieved still alive. With no common language and no knowledge of the nearby crèche, the traders did the only thing they could and took the child along with them.

By the time they reached the next destination on their route - the city of Scornubel - it had become plainly apparent this would not be a permanent addition to their family. Even if the open road had been a suitable stage to raise a young one, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 one ate enough for three and kept getting into places that should have been impossible. Everyone knew the stories of "lost" fey children finding their way under a friendly roof and effecting utter chaos. The child had to go.

Conveniently the issue proceeded to solve itself: the child, again, disappeared.

* * * * *

Almost a decade later, a headstrong adolescent prepared to seek his independence. He was weary of life in this city - tired of the hostile gazes and quickened strides he was met with on a good day, while the others his age found work and opportunities. Drik (as his caretaker had dubbed him: a bug, a meager and invasive crawling thing, how astute) was keenly aware he was not welcome here.

Aishnak, the designator in question, seemed to regard this as a matter of little importance. The kindly old baker assured him there was no need to attain a job or an apprenticeship as there would always be space at his table. This was patently untrue - it seemed like every other week a new orphan showed up on his doorstep - and also, beside the point. Drik did not want to stay in a city that did not want him.

Just give it a few more years, said the old man, you'll find your niche. Just be patient. You're not ready to fend for yourself yet, you're still a kid, the wilderness is no place for one so young, you take the safety of civilisation for granted. Drik had heard it all. He'd also been training with a crossbow for a whole year now, and he knew how to butcher an animal and how to cook and follow a map and, not to be vain, but he was really very good at staying hidden when he didn't want to be found. Better than anyone else he knew. He was ready, and he wouldn't hear otherwise.

Within a week he was back at Aishnak's door. In Drik's defense, which he was very ready to give, this was not because he lacked the skill to keep himself alive. It was because he'd been careless with the life of another.

A feral cat, shot for dinner without difficulty. A litter newly born, discovered after the fact. A heart much less hardened than he'd given himself credit for. Now here he stood with an armful of kittens and a faceful of tears, begging relief from consequences like the child he was.

Aishnak had the grace to refrain from stating the obvious. He promised the kittens would be cared for - save one, as he picked out the runt, the tiny creature already limp and unresponsive. Keeping it with the others will make them ill, he explained; there's naught to do but bury it.

Drik understood. It was a miracle any of them had survived, being so small and left untended. He asked to take the dying kitten back, put it to rest himself. It was only right. Aishnak let him go.

He bundled it against his chest, walked it all the way back out to the place he'd found it, the nest its mother had made in the remains of an old farm shed. He dug a hole, deep enough so that only the worms and plant roots would have the body. He held the sad little scrap of meat in his hands, over its grave. And he cried. He cried and cried and he curled up on the dirt and cradled the thing he'd come here to dispose of and he couldn't do it.

Of course, there was really no alternative, and eventually he had no tears left in him to shed. He had no choice but to pick himself up and finish his work. It was then that he became aware of two things: firstly, that standing up was proving difficult, which was frustrating but not especially out of the ordinary. Secondly, and much more unexpected, the lump of fluff enclosed in his hands was wiggling and making quite a bit of noise.

Drik chanced a peek at the dead kitten and immediately confirmed it was not, in fact, dead, by the metric of it being able to prise its way past his fingers and stumble mewling across his thorax. He didn't have a chance to consider what to do about this though because the next thing he did was fall unconscious.

* * * * *

Another decade come and gone. Lounging in a forest clearing, Drik admired his most recent prize in the morning sunlight: a lavishly jewelled pendant, sparkling not just with the lustre of the gold and stones but with the unmistakeable radiance of magic. Barley corroborated his assessment with greedy scrutiny from where she perched atop his knees. The traveller they'd filched it from hadn't seemed anyone special at a glance, but that just went to show the folly of judging books by their covers.

Offering Barley a quick mental apology - for disturbing her seat and for denying her custody of this latest find, to both of which she shot back a tepid psychic grumble - Drik rolled to his feet and pocketed the necklace. It'd be worth a small fortune, to the right buyer. He was due for a visit home.

[gardengummyeel]

Frog Wizards

Frog wizards, three of them, and their human mercenary-turned retainer-turned adoptive father warrior that bring balance to the elemental forces through their self-sacrifice, each becoming a statue that guards a valley associated with whatever element they embodied.

One guards a valley high in the mountains, snow perpetually covering the steep, but safe, staircase that leads to the small grotto where their statue resides. The grotto plays host to a small temple and settlement, where devoted peoples tend to the statue of their patron and cultivate the population of ribbit-rimes. Small frogs covered in rime and cool to the touch—called ribbit-rimes—decorate both the staircase and the grotto, and in the deep, deep winter they glow ever so softly with cold, blue light. Though harmless on their own, combined they enforce a deep, magical connection to the tree of the world, a single, spiritual root tied directly to the statue of the wizard frog. This connection allows the spirit and will of the wizard, and thus, by extension, the spirit and will of ice itself, to protect the grotto and stabilizes its magic across the planet and planes. Pilgrims are more than welcome, and a village across the grotto's lake is the home of thousands who have decided to carve out a life high in the mountains, or those descended from such people. Though deep in the caves of the mountain, sunlight streams in through crystal clear ice that bathes the hollows in light, and brilliant moss illuminates the cavern ceilings at night with an exact replica of the stars outside; a gift from the spirit of frost. Those knowledgeable in magic that study ice here become as resilient and enduring as the stuff, with the ferocity of a snowstorm that leaves few willing to cross them. Despite this, they often also become kinder, more welcoming people willing to help others at any cost, a teaching from the villagers and monks of the caves.

Another guards the volcanic crevasses of a great desert, where stone, not sand, gives the desert its foundation and where the great heat drives most living things mad. Yet, all throughout the desert exist great towering pinnacles of green, spires growing around ancient cores of volcanoes where cities take root. See, the desert is a mild lie, for beneath the scorching stone lays deep, rich roil, fed by the minerals deep within the earth pushed up by the magma that also scars the land. Caverns here are filled with life, and where it manages to break through the stone above, it turns into these brilliant displays of endurance. It is in the greatest of these that the wizard resides, a massive, wide spire growing around a recently-extinct volcano. A city here celebrates their patron yearly, and worship fire as a force of destruction necessary for life; even the worship of death is welcome, as long as it is selfless and borne from the need to learn and grow. In the stony lands around it, a great labyrinth of homes and worship-palaces and markets trickles out following the gentle flow of the many rivers and creeks flowing from the spire, while the spire itself is a great farm, growing endless fruit and grain. Sky-docks adorn the very top of the spire, and at the center of these stands the proud visage of the wizard, guarding the city through the tiny flicker-frogs. Smaller than a thumb, these tiny creatures glow bright red through their obsidian-black skin, and form the anchor that allows the world tree to manifest a precious few branches in the physical world, blooming with pitaya and lychee and cherimoya and many more tropical fruits. Precious beyond compare, fruits from this tree are valued for their taste, magical properties, and cultural significance. Though they're worth more than their weight in gold, the city distributes the fruit to its citizens every ten-year, when the branches have given enough fruit to do such a thing. The fruit of these branches will never rot, and are in every instance delicious to any who taste their flesh. Foreigners may purchase the fruit for high prices, or they may arrive during the ten-year to receive them as gifts in exchange for other valuable goods. Every century the branches bloom with such vigor that the city sees it fit to share the fruits with the world at large, and send beautiful barges through the sky to distribute the fruit to those who want them. Through these voyages many make friends with those of far-off lands, and some even marry and sire children, settling in their new homes far from their homeland.

The third among them boasts a place in the sky islands floating across the planet's equator, visiting the skies of dozens of nations and peoples in their journey. Though not unified in government, the people of the islands take great care to pass along the wizard's island against the spin of their islands, and the globe. Thus, every person making a home on the floating continent is able to visit such a venerated site and pray or simply lay in its magical wonder. Along the island's journey, small tadpoles with feathery gills swim through the air, translucent and nearly untouchable, only pushing and pulling on physical substance when they deem fit. These develop into small frogs, though these live for many, many years. Most remain small, and are content with being guardian spirits in many homes on the islands. Some grow large indeed, and become venerated spirits in the settlements they call home. The largest among them live in the clouds themselves, swimming contently alongside a retinue of tadpoles and smaller frogs, likened to whales in the sky. These spirits form the anchor of the world tree across the whole world, and its roots are the currents of wind that dictate the weather and routes of sky ships.

All are guarded by a statue of a man, dressed in simple leather armor and with a distinct but not gorgeous face. A man one might come across at any point in their life, elevated to the guardian spirit of the tides of the wild themselves, and venerated just as much as the wizards. Myth speaks of times of crisis, where all seemed lost and the forces of darkness drew their swords to strike down the wizard frogs and break their hold on magic and seize it for themselves. In every attempt the statue is said to have produced a spirit made of flesh and bone in its likeness, drawn its blade (shining in the sun or starlight, depends on the story, with the unmistakable glint of common, cheap steel) and cut them down with as much ease as one might walk through a gentle breeze. The veracity of these claims is contested, but none can deny that the statue of the guardian hidden deep within the valley the wizards first met the man holds great magical power, the confluence of his sons' magic in tempest and tranquility. Rarely, if ever, does the spirit of the guardian grant its gift to a warrior, but when it does that warrior is endowed with a love for their purpose greater than any seen in mortals otherwise. These warriors, called paladins, can dedicate themselves to anything they deem worthy of their service, though the statue grants its gift only to those with love in their hearts. Even so, many paladins have become corrupted by this love, the ways too numerous to list. Around the statue is a small village, protected by the statue and small, mortal frogs that have no innate magical abilities. Despite this, they anchor the heartwood of the world tree to the world, and the force so many describe simply as love becomes a physical, manipulable force. It isn't any stronger than the elements the guardian's sons oversee, not is it weaker. It simply is, and the heart of that which calls upon it dictates its manifestation.

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Suffixes- C

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

-call: "[verb] cry out (a word or words); [noun] a cry made as a summons or to attract someone's attention; [noun] the characteristic cry of a bird or other animal"

-chase: "[verb] pursue in order to catch or catch up with; [noun] an act of pursuing someone or something"

-chaser: "[noun] a cat or thing that chases"

-catcher: "a cat that catches something"

-chill: "[noun] an unpleasant feeling of coldness in the atmosphere, one's surroundings, or the body"

-chime: "[noun] a melodious ringing sound, as produced by striking a bell; [verb] to make melodious ringing sounds"

-chirp: "[verb] (typically of a small bird or an insect) utter a short, sharp, high-pitched sound; [noun] a short, sharp, high-pitched sound"

-chitter: "[noun] make a twittering or chattering sound"

-chive: "[noun] a widely cultivated small Eurasian plant related to the onion, with purple-pink flowers and dense tufts of long tubular leaves"

-cinder: "[noun] a small piece of partly burned coal or wood that has stopped giving off flames but still has combustible matter in it"

-claw: "[noun] a curved pointed horny nail on each digit of the foot in birds, lizards, and some mammals; [verb] (of an animal) scratch or tear something with the claws"

-cliff: "[noun] a steep rock face, especially at the edge of the sea"

-cloud: "[noun] a visible mass of condensed water vapor floating in the atmosphere, typically high above the ground"

-clover: "[noun] a herbaceous plant of the pea family that has dense, globular flower heads, and leaves that are typically three-lobed"

-cone: "[noun] the dry fruit of a conifer, typically tapering to a rounded end and formed of a tight array of overlapping scales on a central axis which separate to release the seeds"

-cove: "[noun] a small sheltered bay"

-crag: "[noun] a steep or rugged cliff or rock face"

-crash: "[verb] move or cause to move with force, speed, and sudden loud noise"

-crawl: "[verb] (of a cat) move forward by dragging the body close to the ground; [noun] an act of moving by dragging one's body along the ground"

-creek: "[noun] a stream, brook, or minor tributary of a river"

-crest: "[noun] a comb or tuft of feathers, fur, or skin on the head of a bird or other animal; [noun] the top of a mountain or hill; [verb] reach the top of (something such as a hill or wave); [verb] (of a wave) form a curling foamy top"

-croak: "[noun] a deep hoarse sound made by a frog or a crow; [verb] (of a frog or crow) make a characteristic deep hoarse sound"

-crouch: "[verb] adopt a position where the knees are bent and the upper body is brought forward and down, sometimes to avoid detection or to defend oneself; [noun] a crouching stance or posture"

-crow: "[noun] a large bird with mostly glossy black plumage, a heavy bill, and a raucous voice"

-crush: "[verb] compress or squeeze forcefully so as to break, damage, or distort in shape"

-curl: "[noun] something having a spiral or inwardly curved form, especially a lock of hair; [verb] form or cause to form into a curved or spiral shape"

-current: "[noun] a body of water or air moving in a definite direction, especially through a surrounding body of water or air in which there is less movement"

-cry: "[verb] shed tears, typically as an expression of distress, pain, or sorrow; [verb] shout or scream, typically to express fear, pain, or grief; [noun] a loud inarticulate shout or scream expressing a powerful feeling or emotion; [noun] the loud characteristic call of a bird or other animal"

-crystal: "[noun] a piece of a homogeneous solid substance having a natural geometrically regular form with symmetrically arranged plane faces"

[templeofthehorn]

Celtic Beliefs and Spirituality

Celtic Beliefs and Spirituality

Ancient Celtic tribes were spread out all over Europe. Each tribe or cult, had different beliefs and customs, but all represented polytheism. The ancient Celts worshipped: the moon, sun, stars, the Earth Mother, and a wide range of gods and goddesses.  Celtic Polytheism declined during the Roman Empire, especially after outlawing Druidism, the most popular of the Celtic Beliefs.

Druidism

          Most of the Information we have learned about druidism, has been taken from the Romans. Ceaser believed that Druidism began in the British isles, and was later introduced to the Gauls. (The Gauls were simply people of Gaul, an area dominated by the Celts).

           Druidic practices were usually held in the clearings of forests, and later in sacred buildings built by the romans. When the romans took over most of Europe, and Christianity became the dominant religion, druidism was outlawed. Above the common people such as the peasants and the artisans, there were the warrior classes, the ruling classes, such as the kings or the chieftains, who were are above the rest, but there were also the Druids. The Druids were basically the “holy people” of their tribes.  It is said that the Druids didn’t have to pay taxes, and did not participate in wars or conflicts that most Celtic citizens had to endure. Though, there are many benefits of becoming a druid, it is still not an easy life. It may take over 20 years to learn the philosophy, poetry, healing, religious rites and magic, without a form of writing. The druids, or any Gaul for that matter, were fully aware of writing down their knowledge, but chose not to do so, because they preferred to rely on memories.

List of Celtic Gods and Goddesses

 AMAETHON : Welsh God of Agriculture. A son of Don and brother of Gwydion. Associated with plowing and husbandry. The modern Welsh name for a farmer is amaethwr and the Welsh word for plowman is amaeth.

ANGUS MAC OG : Ireland; god of youth, love, and beauty. One of the Tuatha De Danann, name means “young son.” He had a harp that made irresistible music, and his kisses turned into birds that carried messages of love.

ARAWN : Wales; god of the dead and the underworld Annwn. God of revenge, terror, and the dead.

BARINTHUS : Welsh, Anglo-Celtic, A charioteer to the residents of the Otherworld who was once probably a sea or sun God.

BELATUCADROS : British Celtic War God. His name means “fair shining one”.

BELI : Welsh, The primary Welsh father God, husband of Don, and father of Arianrhod. Also a minor sun God who some feel is the Welsh equivalent of Balor.

BORVO : Breton, God of healing. Borvo’s name means ‘to boil’, and he was a God of the hot springs.

BRAN THE BLESSED : Welsh, Pan-Celtic, Also Bran MacFebal. His name means ‘crow’, or ‘Raven’. Associated with ravens, he is the God of prophecy, the arts, leader, war, the Sun, music, writing.

CAMULOS : British, War God. Known from inscriptions and coinage bearing the symbol of a boar.

CERNUNNOS : Pan-Celtic, Known to all Celtic areas in one form or another. The Horned God; God of Nature; God of the Underworld and the Astral Plane; Great Father; “the Horned One”.

(Cernunnos)

CONDATIS : Britain, God who personified the waters, his sacred sites were wherever two rivers or bodies of water met.

DISPATER : Continental, Also Dis Pater. Gaulish God, whose name means “the Father,” was a primal God of creation who later merged with both Don and Cernunnos, the Horned God. The Gauls all believed themselves to be descended from him.

DWYVAN : Welsh, Also Dwyfan. Dwyvan and his wife, Swyfach, are the heroes of the Welsh flood myth. Together they built an ark, filled it with animals, and survived the great flood caused by Addanc, a lake God/dragon/faery. Though later versions of this myth are distorted in order to make it conform to the Biblical verson. Later on the Christoan church went to great lengths to destroy any records on the truth of this history.

DYLAN : Welsh, God of the Sea. His symbol was a silver fish.

ESUS : Breton, Continental, Also Essus. A harvest God worshipped in Brittany, and in Gaul by the people known as the Essuvi.

GOVANNON : Welsh, God of smiths and metalworkers. The weapons he makes are deadly in their aim, the armor unfailing in its protection.

GRANNOS : Scottish, Anglo-Celtic, Continental, An early continental God of mineral springs whose shrines have been found in the Scotland town of Musselburgh, in Auvergne, France, and near Edinburgh, Scotland.

GWYDDNO : Welsh, This one time sea God came down in myth as a monster of faery of the ocean.

GWYN AP NUAD : Welsh, King of the Fairies and the underworld.

THE HORNED GOD : Pan-Western European, Opener of the Gates of Life and Death; Herne the Hunter; Cernunnos; Green Man; Lord of the Wild Hunt. The masculine, active side of Nature; Earth Father. His sacred animals were the stag, bull, goat, bear.

LLUD : Anglo-Celtic, Welsh, Known in Wales as the son of Beli, and a death God in his own right.

LUGH : Pan-Celtic, The Shining One; Sun God; God of War; “Many Skilled”; “Fair-Haired One”; “White or Shining”; a hero god.

MANDRED : Cornish, In Cornish legends, Mandred is the true name of God which, when pronounced, draws the All-Power to the one speaking it.

MYRRDIN WYLLT : Welsh, A woodland God who deliberately grew feathers so he could leap from tree to tree.

OGHMA : Scottish, Irish, God of communication and writing who invented the Ogham Alphabet and gave it to the Druids.

List of Celtic Goddesses

ACHTLAND : Pan-Celtic, Goddess queen who no mortal man could satisfy

ADSULLATA : British, A Goddess of hot springs who came to Brittany from Celtic Gaul. She is the origin of the Anglo-Celtic sun Goddess Sul

AERTEN : Cornish, Anglo-Celtic, Welsh, Also spelled Aerfen, or Aeron. A Goddess of fate who presided over the outcome of war between several Celtic clans.

AGRONA : Welsh, Anglo-Celtic, Goddess of slaughter and war often equated with the Morrigan.

AIFE : Irish, Scottish, Also spelled Aoife. Aife was a Goddess and queen of the Isle of Shadow, an honor she shared with her rival and sister Scathach.

AINE : AN-yuh, Ireland, a woman of the Leanan Sidhe Some said she was the daughter of Manannan, some said she was the Morrigan herself.

ANDARTA : Gallic, Fertility Goddess and patron Goddess of the Vocontii tribe.

ANDRASTE : Romano-Celtic; British; Anglo-Celtic; Continental Europe, The patron Goddess of the Iceni tribe.

ANU : Ireland, goddess of plenty and Mother Earth. Greatest of all Irish goddesses, deity of cattle, health, fertility, prosperity, and comfort.

AOIBHELL : Evill, Ireland; another woman of the Sidhe, she made her dwelling in Craig Liath.

ARIADNE : Continental European, This Goddess of ancient Crete is the only Greek deity known to have been worshipped in Celtic Gaul.

ARIANRHOOD : Wales; goddess of beauty, fertility, and reincarnation. Known as Silver Wheel and the High Fruitful Mother, the palace of this sky goddess was Caer Arianrhold (Aurora Borealis).

ARNAMENTIA : Anglo-Celtic, Romano-Celtic, British, Water Goddess known only from inscriptions.

AVETA : Romano-Celtic Gallic, Goddess of birth and midwifery.

Badb : Bibe, Ireland, goddess of enlightenment, inspiration, life, wisdom. Sister of Macha, the Morrigan, and Anu, the name of this goddess means “boiling,” “battle raven,” and “scald-crow.”

BELISAMA : Celtic, Goddess of light and fire, the forge and of crafts. She is the wife of the god Belenus (Beli) and the Goddess of the Mersey River.

BLODEUWEDD : Welsh, “Flower Face”; “White Flower”. Lily maid of Celtic initiation ceremonies. Also known as the Ninefold Goddess of the Western Isles of Paradise.

BRIGANTIA : British, Anglo-Celtic, “High One”; pastoral and river goddess. Associated with Imbolc. Flocks, cattle, water, fertility; healing; victory.

(Brigantia)

BRITANNIA : Romano-Celtic British, Tutelary Goddess. The genia loci of Britain who first appears on the coinage of Antoninius Pius in the 2nd century AD. She became the symbol of the British Empire after being partly syncretized with the war goddess Minerva.”

CAILLEACH BHEUR : Scottish, Irish, Manx, Great Goddess in her Destroyer aspect; called “Veiled One”. Another name is Scota, from which Scotland comes. In parts of Britain she is the Goddess of Winter. She was an ancient Goddess of the pre-Celtic peoples of Ireland. She controlled the seasons and the weather; and was the goddess of earth and sky, moon and sun.

CERRIDWEN : Scottish, Welsh, Moon Goddess; Great Mother; Grain Goddess; Goddess of Nature.

CLIODNA : Irish, Scottish, Goddess of beauty and the otherworld. A Tuatha sea and Otherworld Goddess who often took the form of a sea bird and, as such, symbolized the Celtic afterlife.

CLOTA : Scottish, Popular Goddess of the River Clyde.

CONDWIRAMUR : Welsh, Cornish, An archetypal guardian of the feminine mysteries and a Goddess of sovereignty who appears briefly in the Grail legends as the wife of Sir Percival.

CORRA : Scottish, A Goddess of prophecy who usually appeared in the form of a crane.

COVENTINA : Anglo-Celtic, Scottish, British, Tutelary and water Goddess of uncertain affinities.

CRED : Irish, Scottish, Also Creide. This faery queen Goddess is associated with Dana’s mountains, the Paps of Any.

CREDDYLAD : Welsh, Daughter of the sea god Llyr.

CYHIRAETH : Welsh, Once a Goddess of streams, she later bacame thought of as a faery spirit who was a portent of death.

DAMARA : Anglo-Celtic, An English fertility Goddess associated with Bealtaine.

DAMONA : Gaul, Goddess of fertility and healing; her name means “divine cow”. Cow Goddesses were linked to fertility and abundance.

DIVONA : Gaul, A fertility Goddess associated with water and known only from inscriptions.

DRUANTIA : Breton, “Queen of the Druids”, Mother of the tree calendar; Fir Goddess. Fertility, passion, sexual activities, trees, protection, knowledge, creativity.

EPONA : Pan-Celtic, “Divine Horse”; “The Great Mare”; Goddess of horses; Mother Goddess. Fertility, maternity, protectress of horses, horse-breeding, prosperity, dogs, healing springs, crops.

Epona - Celtic goddess of horses

Epona - Celtic goddess of horses

ERCE : Anglo-Celtic, Earth mother and harvest Goddess symbolized by a womb or by an over-flowing horn of plenty, believed to be Basque in origin.

GOEWIN : Welsh, The Goddess of sovereignty who held the feet of Math while he reigned. She was only exempt from doing so when he went to war.

HABETROT : Anglo-Celtic, Habetrot was a “spinning” Goddess. Spinning is both Pagan lingo for spell casting and for the turning of the Wheel of the Year.

HENWEN : Anglo-Celtic, A sow Goddess much like her Welsh counterpart Cerridwen. She is the deity who brought abundance to the land by giving birth to an assortment of “litters” throughout England.

LATIS : Anglo-Celtic, Goddess associated with water. She was originally a lake Goddess who became a Goddess of ale and meade.

Le FAY : Welsh, Cornish, LeFay was a Goddess of the sea an dof the Isle of Avalon.

MARCIA PROBA : Anglo-Celtic, This English Goddess’ Roman name means “deep march” or “long march”, a Celtic warrior queen who lived around the third century BCE. Her laws, known as the Marcian Statutes, some scholars claim these statutes laid the ground work for the Magna Carta.

MODRON : Welsh, Goddess whose name means “divine mother”. She is one of the most potent of the Celtic archetypal mother Goddess.

MORGAN LeFAY : Welsh, Welsh death-goddess; Morgan the Fate. Glamorgan in Wales is said to be her sacred territory. She can cast a destroying curse on any man.

MORGAY : Scottish, Anglo-Celtic, A harvest Goddess from the Scottish/English border.

MORRIGAN : Pan-Celtic. Also the Morrigu; “Great Queen”; “Supreme War Goddess”; “Queen of Phantoms or Demons”; “Specter Queen”; shape-shifter. Reigned over the battlefield, helping with her magic, but did not join the battles. Associated with crows and ravens. The Crone aspect of the Goddess; Great Mother; Moon Goddess; Great White Goddess; Queen of the Fairies. In her Dark Aspect (the symbol is then the raven or crow) she is the goddess of war, fate and death; she went fully armed and carried two spears. Goddess of rivers, lakes, and fresh water. Patroness of priestesses and witches.

NANTOSUELTA : Continental, Also Nantsovelta. Her Breton name is Nataseuelta. She is a river Goddess from Celtic Gaul whose name means “of the meandering stream”.

NICEVENN : Scottish, “Divine”; “Brilliant”. A Samhain witch-goddess; equated with the Roman Goddess Diana.

NIMUE : Welsh, Cornish, Celtic Moon Goddess; also called Morgan.

OANUAVA : Breton, Continental, An ancient earth Goddess from Celtic Gaul.

[bruttomisandro]

Favorite clan headcanons I appropriated and I don't remember if someone say those(feel free to tell me it's yours!):

Thunderclan is extremely individualistic, they really push for one cat's talent and because of this there is a lot of pressure when an obvious clan member is appreciated than the others(explaination: individualistic culture came from the idea that Thunderclan is morally above other clans, so they think individuals can easily adjust, con is that cats can feel more alone and isolated than in other clans. Their battle group strategy are the less complicated as they just push cats to fight on their own. It doesn't feel like gold strategy, but in individual combat they are the steongest, you would never fight a Thunderclan cat alone)

Shadowclan: they have legends about how their territory is the worst for hunting because one cat betrayed the god of nature, who offered them everything, so every cat must understand what means to survive. Because of this a strong sense of belonging and group was formed. Different from other clans, they aren't crepuscular but nocturnal, everyone sleep after gathering(explaination: because of the harsh territory's conditions and Shadowstar being killed by a former friend, this kinda push mistrust, that favours dictatorships or different approaches to the warrior code, is a matter of surviving in group, to the point that parents or siblings feel more attached to their clan as a whole than their family, an apprentice and a mentor can have a stronger bond that anyone else related)

Windclan: they feel the most virtuous clan, the closest to the stars because of the open moor and the closest to the earth because of the tunneling, their whole culture is based on adoring the planet and its wonders, humbling. Because of this they usually hunt also outside of the territory to not destroy its natural balance. They fear Starclan than anyone in else, they believe that from their open plane, cats go to Starclan, so they are the last clan anyone who dies see. Because of their strictness, they do running races where the point isn't winning but that everyone who runs is fast the same, strengthening the group discipline (explaination: being the clan of gray wing, windstar, first leader who get nine lives, and first medicine cat, they convince themselves of their holiness over everyone else, but this push them to pray and be ashamed more easily, this is why Onestar couldn't bring himself to admit his relationship with Smoke. But as we know, every exaggeration bring to some exception, like the travelling cats, who mate and join windclan every spring until autumn no problem)

Riverclan: they believe in beauty and they usually decorate their camp, their favorite hunting places and themselves with stuff they found beautiful. This bring the idea perfection and superficiality. They have legends about how different cats saved the world by evil forces who knows water was indispensable, so if anyone pee in the river, their usual calmness turn into extreme anger. They are the most closed and always try to avoid any interaction with other clans, they feel protected by the rivers and drifts around their camp. They think non aquatic prey are more dirty(explaination: rivers really helped Riverclan to fight against other clans and this bring them to a sense of superiority and safety. They have a legends about how a cat saved the water sources by a giant snake by tricking it, so they tend to be more strategic rater attacking front like Thunderclan does)

Skyclan: they are the most pacific clan of all, to the point of giving small pieces of territory just to avoid war. Their pacific nature make them also very playful, in fact different for windclan's racing for starclan and discipline, skyclan see in playing more of a phylosophical reason: favorite game is jumping high as much as possible while moving from tree to tree. They believe that cats come from space, specifically the crystal sky, and this is why when cats dies they go to starclan, up, and this is why they think they tend to jump high, to reach where they really belonging(explaination: Skystar violent policy really let down his clanmates and when Sparrow Fur become leader, she imposed an inside code and push for peace rather fight. The high and thick tree forest helped defending Skyclan's territory for decades. They think shooting stars are their remind of their celestial origin and when they tried to explain it to other clans, they think they are crazy)

[sevenish-spheres]

Hell and the Devils: An introduction

Today I'm going to start a series of posts about one of the most well-known of the Outer Planes, and one of the ones closest to its dnd ancestor, Pandorum.

The Nine Hells of Pandorum, sometimes known simply as Hell, is among the most infamous of the Outer Planes, and is home to innumerable Devils, Goetics and a truly staggering number of mortal souls. Hell is located within the Sanguine Sphere, on the edge of the Battlefield Stars. It is divided into nine layers, with each being ruled by a different Archdevil. Below them are myriad lesser nobles drawn from the ranks of powerful Devils, Goetics and, in a few rare cases, other creatures such as Rakshasa. The layers vary greatly in both appearance and inhabitants, but are each based around one of the seven great sins Asmodeus saw in mortals before his fall (alongside the first and last, which serve as an entrance of sorts and Asmodeus’ personal realm respectively). The Nine Layers of Hell are as follows:

Avernas- The Entrance of Hell, and the only Layer where the River Styx Flows. Home to near-constant battles between devils and the warriors of the Battlefield Stars. Ruled by Sathariel

Ephrosia- Layer of Lust and home to the city of Dis, where souls damned to Pandorum are judged. Ruled by Dispater, although his paramour Belial holds almost equal power.

Consuuli- Layer of Gluttony, ruled by Manducare

Vricia- Layer of Greed, ruled by Mammon

Geryona- Layer of Wrath, ruled by Geryon

Kimeron- Layer of Sloth (And more recently, technology), ruled by Belphegor

Icaria- Layer of Pride (and Heresy), ruled by Moloch

Iudecca- Layer of Envy, ruled by Mephistopheles (although Baalzebub still believes himself its true ruler)

Noctis- The Pit, fortress of Asmodeus himself.

A History of Pandorum

Pandorum likely began as simply another one of the Battlefield Stars, and is believed to have been lifeless save for a few Asura till the exile of the former Empyrean of Vengeance, Asmodeus. He was disgusted by the sin of mortals, and feared the rise of the Nadir within the River Styx, which already had spawned the first Demons. So, Asmodeus vowed to take sinful mortals himslef, punishing them as he saw fit and, in time, twisting them into the first of the devils.

Asmodeus was not exiled alone, taking numerous Archons with him, and despite their relatively small numbers these early devils (Who would later be known as Elpynarii) swiftly overtook Pandorum's Asura inhabitants.

Shortly after this conquest the first of the Archdevils were named, and although their exact names are lost to history, it is known that Shemihazah the Twice-Fallen, Azazel the Shaitan Prince and Baalzebul the Forsaken were among these early Archdevils.

In the beginning, souls were dragged to Hell indiscriminately, with some perhaps-innocent souls ending up within its depths. Therefore it took relatively little time for the loyal Archons led by Asmodeus' replacement, Nemesis to marshal and attack Pandorum with the aid of numerous Asuras and Usubians.

The ensuing war left both sides devastated, and allowed a vast swathe of souls to be devoured by the Nadir and converted into early demons, and as such a treaty was established. The Devils would be free to take any souls they could convince via a contract to enter Hell's legions, and in exchange they would be allowed effective free reign over Pandorum and the souls within.

Devils

The Devils are among the most infamous of the inhabitants of the Sanguine Sphere, and are perhaps the best known in the Crucible. They are led by Asmodeus and the Archdevils below him, and are organised into a strict hierarchy. Devils begin their life as Pretas, pathetic ghoul-like devils formed from mortals convinced to sell their souls, who crawl out of the Styx where it flows through Avernas. From there, they join great crowds of their kind and make their way to the city of Dis, where they are judged and sent to the appropriate layer of Pandorum. In their assigned layer, the Preta devils are punished, although this is not, as most mortal scholars believe, for the sake of punishment alone. Instead, this punishment slowly concentrates that mortal’s sin and resentment of the gods until they undergo a foul metamorphosis and emerge as a devil better fitting their form. Alongside this, powerful devils can promote their lessers (provided they file the correct paperwork, of course), creating devils not specific to a given sin and allowing devils to step closer to Archdevil status. All devils are immensely jealous of one another, seeking to rise by any means to the top (or bottom, from a certain point of view) of the hells’ hierarchy. However, whilst assassination isn’t uncommon, devils must be careful when doing so, as being caught brings down heavy sanctions, such as demotion to a lesser form. Other than the death of a superior, the main way devils rise in rank is through a contract with a mortal in which the mortal exchanges their soul for some pittance of power. Extensive courts exist within Pandorum to mediate disputes over the rights of a devil to a soul, and the more souls a devil tempts the further it is likely to be promoted, although superiors frequently take percentages of credit through further internal contracts made between devils. The majority of devils (generally excluding Serf Devils) wear masks and armour forged by the Mekurabe, a form of fiend who pledged their allegiance to Asmodeus. The purpose of these masks is unknown, but they seem to often bear enchantments, and even if this is not the case, are regarded as status symbols by other devils.

[mickimomo]

Lunch Time - Oni (OC) x Namora

Attoye and Namshuri are sprinkled in. Along with just Namora, Namor, and Attuma being goofy together. This is extremely short. So don't raise any pitchforks.

Author Notes:

I might write something for the other couples later. This was just a very strong thought I needed to pen down somewhere.

Also, later down the road in Storm, Oni will gain an opportunity to revoke her vow. We aren't there yet... so relax and enjoy the food.

Attuma, Namora, and K'uk'ulkan often get together for lunch and eat the meals their Wakandan partners pack for them.

Attuma is always eating something hearty, whether it's leftovers of something he cooked (because he enjoys cooking for Okoye) or something Okoye cooked (because he loves eating food she's prepared).

This only started because Aneka had brought Ayo lunch, and Attuma wouldn't stop begging Okoye to pack him one, too.

After many days of pouting, the midnight angel finally caved for her shark man.

In the beginning, Shuri refused to cook K'uk'ulkan anything. And he looked so pitiful. She eventually caved when she realized he was refusing to eat lunch because she wouldn't make it for him. It was never as extravagant as Attuma's, but he would always brag to everyone that the Queen had cooked him something.

Even if it was just a small little sandwich, a juice box, and a fruit snack.

Namora, on the other hand, typically packed her own lunch. Being companionless and all... that is until Oni started bringing her food a few minutes before lunch.

The first time she did it, Namora was shocked and flustered. She had asked around if Oni had ever given anyone lunch before and struggled to interpret what the act of kindness meant.

They'd gone from sparring buddies to friends... and now this?

Wasn't this a tradition for couples?

Was this an act of courting?

It didn't help that Attuma and her cousin were merciless with their teasing as well.

Making kissy faces and wild comments.

"Congratulations." Attuma grinned as he squeezed her feathered shoulder. "You have found yourself a mighty woman."

K'uk'ulkan chuckled as Namora smacked his hand away.

"A warrior that could actually kill you, no less." The king grinned. "How fitting."

Namora scowled. "You cannot tease me. You two are worse than me."

"Yes, but you will be just as bad, eventually."

And the god king was right.

Within a span of a few weeks, Namora was down bad for the Vessel of Bast.

Everyone would always whisper and watch the priestess as she'd journey down to the river with a basket of goods.

There would always be a bundle of flowers, something cold and refreshing to drink, and a hot meal that was always ready to eat.

Some days, it would be something she purchased and repackaged.

Other days it would be some arrangement of chicken, rice, and plantain.

Namora preferred the latter because she knew it was homemade.

She could tell by the bandaids the priestess would dawn when delivering the meal and how she would always toss in a few plums in case the meal wasn't "good enough".

It was always delicious and far more appreciated than Namora wished to let on publicly.

Oni wasn't an awful cook, but her skills were very limited in the kitchen. She only knew how to cook five things.

Chicken.

Rice.

Plantain.

Eggs.

and Tea.

Anything else would somehow go up in flames. The warrior had witnessed this first hand after doubting her ability to only be skilled enough to make five things.

Oni had tried to make her hot chocolate and nearly burned down the house.

Then she had managed to turn a knob of corn into a piece of charcoal.

Her last attempt, in which she had attempted to grill fish, almost landed them a one way ticket to the ancestral plane.

How had she cultivated such a small and specific culinary skill?

Namora wasn't sure, but she didn't want to experience the terrors of fire and smoke again.

Today was a homemade meal kind of day, and Namora was practically glowing when the priestess made her way down to the river bank.

Attuma chuckled as he watched the feathered woman make her way out of the water before stopping in front of the priestess.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. I tried to get here sooner, but I slipped up with the knife while cleaning the chicken."

"You cooked for me again?" Namora's face slowly began to purple.

"Yeah. You said you really liked the stewed chicken I made for you the other day, so I figured I'd make it for you again." The priestess looked down at the basket. "Hopefully, you're not tired of eating the same three ingredients. I try to buy stuff to keep things interesting."

"I will love whatever you give me." Namora looked up at her. "I will not care if it's the same thing."

Oni held out the basket, dawning a series of bandaid. "Then I hope you really enjoy it. I worked really hard on it, but in case it isn't great, I added a few plums."

"It will be enjoyed because it is great." Namora frowned. "Do not diminish your effort."

"I'm just being honest."

"And I will not tolerate your acts of disrespect towards yourself."

Oni huffed but didn't contest her gentle scolding.

Namora gently grabbed the basket before grabbing her hand to examine it. "I will bring you salve when I bring you back your basket."

"You don't have to. I'll heal up eventually."

"It is rude to reject a gift, Yuum k’iino’."

"Then I look forward to receiving your generous gift, In ba'ate'el."

She offered a small bow before slipping her hand out of hers and walked back up the small hill.

When she was no longer visible, Namora turned around to see her cousin and Attuma grinning at her.

"Thank you for the food, Yuum k’iino’." K'uk'ulkan tried to imitate her voice as he turned to Attuma. "Yuum k’iino’, I love you."

"I love you too, In ba'ate'el." Attuma imitated Oni before making fake smooching sounds as he wrapped an arm around the god king. "Eat well. Enjoy." He cooed between chuckles.

Namora was burning dark purple as she glared at them and attempted to take their heads off with a few smooth pebbles.

Both men cackled and hid below the water as she stomped forward.

She huffed. "You are not safe below the water either."

They roared with laughter as the warrior bonked them over the head before settling down to eat her meal.