#heretical hymns

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of witches

Our muse, our fate, our life, our doom

To thee we do cry proud banished children of Eve

Rejoicing in this; thy verdant valley

Turn then, thy eyes of star-fire toward us

And after this, our beheading, may we be made worthy of the fruits of the Serpent

O’ shinning, O’ dreadful, O’ Pale queen

Drown and incinerate us, that we may be made worthy to bear the fire

Hail, bright star of the sea!

Heavens own Queen blest

Ever Shinning

Gate of heavenly healing

Font of magic

Taking that sweet Ave

That the serpent spoke

Peace confirm within us

Hailing Eves name

Break the captives fetters

Starlight upon the waters pour

All our ills expelling

Every bliss implore

Show thyself a Queen!

Sorceress all exceeding

Most beauteous and shinning

Freed from impurity, preserve us

Broken and remade

To our oaths keep us

Make our way secure

As the sea, by thy sky-strung pearls

We navigate

Through the highest heaven

To the darkest depths

We honor thee

You who light the way

[heretical-final-boss]

Lady Baby *spoiler-ish*

"I’M DEAD SHE REALLY PICKED UP A MICROPHONE BRUH HER SECOND LIFE COULD NOT BE MORE DIFFERENT THAN HER FIRST GOOD JOB I GUESS SHE SAVED HER FAMILY BY BECOMING A POP ICON"

[gretchensinister]

Me, listening to a general pop variety radio station in the car: Hey this is a song I haven’t heard before, has a great vibe for the skeksis/mystic fic I’m writing tho

Listening more: Hey. Wait a second. Is this--but this is a regular radio station--using “I’m in love” instead of just “I love” makes it sound incredibly gay--what--

DuckDuckGo reveal to me the answers!

It’s a Christian pop song that escaped containment.

[hcrctic]

tag dump! wanda edition

[gingerblivet]

Being an atheist in a choir during the “holiday” season is always a little ???? at times, especially when you’ve never been given much explanation about the religious aspects of the songs you’re learning, so then there’ll be moments where you’re watching everyone else nod along at your director’s description of the crucifixion like it’s common knowledge and thinking to yourself “the fuck?”

[rafry]

Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control

Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)

The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!

For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:

"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"

That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?

"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."

If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"

Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?

"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"

I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.

There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.

It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).

And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).

As for the details:

He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.

He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.

He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.

So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.

That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.

Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?

I hope he does well on therapy.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non//con, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships, and religious imagery/themes.

For the longest time, you thought of Gojo as a god.

How could you not, when your first impression of him had been one of blinding light and flashes of pure ivory, searing warmth and eyes like the endless sky? The gospel he spoke was nonsence, all near-incomprehensible rambling about cursed energy and walking nightmares, but you choked it down like sacrament, accepted your savior without complaint. He'd saved your life, cast off the darkness and promised to make sure you stayed in the light. Whatever he was, it was god-like enough for you.

You worshiped him like a god, too. In coffee shops and bakeries, when you first insisted on paying your tithe, then dimly-lit bars, sweat-soaked nightclubs, upscale restaurants you never would've been able to afford, but that gave you all the more reason to cling to him like a saving grace. He moved slowly, waited weeks before bringing you back to his penthouse apartment and commanding that you kneel before your alter, but he really didn't need to. Anywhere he tread was holy ground, as far as you were concerned. If that meant you had to make his bed your hollowed place, then so be it.

You figure that was what he must've liked so much about you. People like Gojo were often admired, always feared, but rarely loved, and you'd always been the type to show your deities the utmost adoration. Somewhere, in the thralls of your worship, he must have decided a willing acolyte was not as valuable as a loyal one.

For the longest time, you thought of Gojo as a devil.

A liar, a dissident, a heretic. A deceiver, most of all - for masquerading himself as something so holy, so divine. You told him as much (albeit, with much more colorful language), but that's the thing about pure evil; it thrives on hate and loathing and hostility, and Gojo drank in every ounce of attention he could wring out of you, whether you were sobbing into his chest or screaming for him not to touch you or begging for whatever scraps of mercy still existed in his cold, armored heart. He was good at that. Whether you were singing hymns underneath him or praying for someone who could deliver you from his embrace, Gojo knew how to get what he wanted from you.

You did a lot of praying, after he took you into his impious counsel. Not that it did any good - he'd always mocked your attempts to comfort yourself, to withhold something you'd once given to him freely, something that he was always able to take with or without your cooperation. You blamed his cruelty on pure malice, felt his touch like tongues of hellfire, but what hurt you the most was when he wasn't cruel, when his touch didn't burn, when his smile still range angelic and he promised, in a way that did not sound entirely like the twisted words of a wretched imposter, that he really did love you.

You knew, now, that Gojo was human. Nothing more, nothing less.

And you understood that, truly, was the worst thing he could've been.

[talonabraxas]

"Splendid You rise in the lightland of the sky, O living Aten, creator of life ! You have dawned in the eastern lightland. You fill every land with your beauty." -Great Hymn to the Aten, 1-4.

Aten/Aton Talon Abraxas

Ancient Egyptian Aten: Sun God And Creator Deity Symbols: sun disk, heat and light of the sun Cult Center: Akhetaten (Tel El-Amarna) Aten was a being who represented the god or spirit of the sun, and the actual solar disk. He was depicted as a disk with rays reaching to the earth. At the end of the rays were human hands which often extended the ankh to the pharaoh. Aten's origins are unclear and he may have been a provincial Sun-god worshipped in one of the small villages near Heliopolis. Aten was called the creator of man and the nurturing spirit of the world. In the Book of the Dead, Aten is called on by the deceased, "Hail, Aten, thou lord of beams of light, when thou shinest, all faces live." It is impossible to discuss Aten without mentioned his biggest promoter, the pharaoh Amenhotep IV, or Akhenaten. Early in his reign, Akhenaten worshipped both Amon (the chief god in Thebes at the time) and Aten. The first as part of his public duties, the latter in private. When he restored and enlarged the temple of Aten first built by his father Amenhotep III, relations between him and priests of Amon became strained. The priests were a major power in Egypt and if another god became supreme they would lose their own prestige. Eventually, relations became so strained that Akhenaten decided to built his own capital by the Nile, which he called, "Akhetaten", the Horizon of the Aten. At Akhetaten, Akhenaten formed a new state religion, focusing on the worship of the Aten. It stated that Aten was the supreme god and their were no others, save for Akhenaten himself. It has been said that Akhenaten formed the first monotheistic religion around Aten. However, this is not the case. Akhenaten himself was considered to be a creator god and like Aten was born again every day. Aten was only accessible to the people through Akhenaten because Akhenaten was both man and part of the cosmos. Akhenaten systematically began a campaign to erase all traces of the old gods, especially Amon. He erased the name of Amon from the temples and public works. He even went so far as to erase his own father's cartouche because the word "Amon" was featured in it. Even the word "gods" was unacceptable because it implied there were other deities besides Aten. It is clear that the Egyptian people never accepted their king's religion and view of the world. Even at his own capital, Akhetaten, amulets featuring Bes and Tauret have been found. Following Akhenaten's death, Atenism died rapidly. Mostly because the people never really believed in it and also because Akhenaten's successors did all they could to erase Akhenaten and Aten from the public eye. Eventually, Akhetaten became abandoned and the name "Akhenaten" conjured the dim memory of a "heretic king."

[welldonebeca]

One Wife for Two Brothers

Summary: The infamous Winchesters brothers are in your village, and the old ladies in town won't stop gossiping about how they are looking for an Omega. You are happy to offer yourself to the role. Warnings: Vaginal fingering. Smut. Teasing. Seduction. A/B/O dynamics.

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Masterlist

You swept the floor of the church clean in a silent trance, humming a hymn to yourself while other women whispered to themselves in a corner.

"Hey," you called. "If you are not going to clean, just go talk outside. It will make my job easier."

Mrs Harvelle threw a look in your direction, pressing her lips in a worried look.

"Come here, kid," she called. "Come listen to us."

"Ellen," Mrs Mills hissed.

"You know she needs to know, Jody," she nearly barked back.

Mrs Mills didn't look pleased and you sighed, not wanting to get another scolding from your father for ignoring your chores to listen to gossip, but the trio of women practically pulled you to stand with them.

"She is too young to even know of any of this, Ellen!" she protested.

"She is nineteen," Mrs Harvelle argued, keeping a tight grip around your elbow. "My girl is younger and I already taught her what she needs to know about them."

Them?

"Who is them?" you frowned.

"Those Winchester boys," Mrs Harvelle told you.

The name rang a bell, and you just frowned more. They were Alphas from a clan that lived a day away from your town. They would often come to represent their group in legal situations and to buy things they couldn't produce.

You hadn't heard much from them, honestly, only what your father always said. He called them heretics who followed the old ways, prayed under the moon and were rumoured to still be able to shift into wolves - something that had been lost for centuries now.

Rogue Alphas who followed no human laws.

Aside from the rumours, though, they never seemed to cause any trouble. You had never heard of them disrespecting anyone, or doing anything to earn such a reputation.

And yet, people still feared them.

"Some people said they are looking for a mate," Mrs Mills told you.

"Well, they can forget it," Mrs Harvelle growled. "No Omega in this town will sign themselves away to be their breeding bitch."

You swallowed down and she scowled.

"My Jo said she isn't leaving the house until they are gone," she shot you a look. "You should do the same thing. It's safer."

Jo had just turned 15, you doubted she would even want to think of that.

You didn't know what to think of it. So far, you hadn't even thought about marriage, much less mating.

"Be careful," Miss Hanscum told you.

And then, just as soon as they had pulled you closer, they pushed you back into work, leaving you alone to finish cleaning the church.

You were just two benches away from the door and the sun was almost down when you heard it opening loudly, and heavy steps - that you didn't recognise - walked inside.

"My father is gone," you warned them. "He won't be back until..."

You stopped midway as you looked at who it was, stunned to see the tall and large figure at the door, an imposing man with eyes that caught the light and bigger than any other you had ever seen in your life.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, face soft. "I just came here to pray."

His scent hit your nose, and you weren't surprised.  He was an Alpha - and a very good smelling one.

"It's... fine," you mumbled.

He nodded, and stepped on the carpet, cleaning his boots before taking the furthest seat from you and sitting right in the front, on the other side of the church, maybe hoping it wouldn't disturb your cleaning.

You waited a bit and pretended to have to clean a different spot, trying to take a better look at him as he prayed with his eyes closed.

His clothes weren't too well stitched and looked like they were redone several times to fit his size, as if he had grown faster than he was supposed to. He was just so muscular.

You had never seen an Alpha looking so...  traditional.

Whoever this man was, he looked like he had come straight out of history books. You were shocked that his fingers didn't have claws or his ears didn't have fur.

Though it wasn't like you could see his ears with his long, luscious hair.

You froze, a little embarrassed when you realised you were staring. Why were you so fixated on him, why did you even care about his hair?

Alpha opened his eyes and stared right at yours, and you had to will your knees not to buckle.

"Are you from the Winchester clan?" you asked.

His lips curled in a teasing smile.

"Yes," he confirmed.

His big hand moved to his side, and he patted the seating spot by his side.

Any warnings to stay away just flew away from your head.

You rubbed your thighs together as you followed his silent instructions, sitting at the bench right by his side, eloped by his delicious scent, and tried not to let yourself be tempted.

You were a smart Omega and weren't going to fall into the lap of the first alpha with soft-looking hair and kind eyes and big hands that looked like they could dwarf both of yours...

"So… you pray?” you asked. “I thought you believed in your moon god."

He chuckled.

"We do, as a clan," Alpha explained. "But I like to believe all gods have a reason to be respected. Maybe this one will be nice and help my brother find us an inn that will let us stay the night."

You laughed a bit.

"Maybe we can pray together?" you offered. "It can't hurt to try."

He smiled and took your hands, moving so that he could face you, and you did the same.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

You obeyed, but you couldn't quite do anything as close to praying.

Instead, you could only think of his scent, of how it was all around you. Could he scent you?

Maybe he could scent how you were getting wet by just breathing his scent in alone.

"What is your name?" he asked, breath so close to your neck you could almost feel his lips on your skin. "And why are you trying to tempt me in such a holy place?"

. . .

. . .

"One Wife for Two Brothers" is a Patreon exclusive fic. To read it now, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

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Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl2 @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

Ave, fonticuli Stella.

Asteriá mater Alma

Fons magicea

Felix Caeli porta

Felix Barathrum porta

Summens illude Ave

Qoud Serpens locutus est

Salutans nomen Evæ

Ruptor catenis

Profer lumens caecis

Mala nostra pelle

Bona cuncta posse

Ostende te osse Regina

Sicut aquas divina

Reflectunt stellarum

Preces nostras portare

Regina omnia recedens

In lunares salutem

Patients tempus, calendariis

Supra

Infra

Tenebris aquis

Nox caelum speculum

Gloria tribus in uno

Parody of the hymn “Ave Maris Stella”

Despite years of catholic schooling my Latin is shit so doubtless the grammar is off haha.

[gaysindistress]

Heretics and Flesh Devotees

Based on the poem Anorexic by Eavan Boland

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/pinterest and collaged on canva

pairings: azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. And I am burning the man who condemned me to such a fate.

Warnings: mentions of abuse (not detailed), mentions of misogyny (not detailed)

Word count: 2.2k

Gaysindistress masterlist | azriel masterlist

My body has never been mine. It’s been owned, sold, bought, and branded by others time and time again. My body has never been mine to command and control as the authority in my life has. It’s disgusting to think that in the years since my birth, my body, my soul, and my will has been placed into the hands of others.

As a babe it was my parents although they did try to be gentle and kind. Their faults were found in the ones they left to care for me. The awful creatures hated me for a name I did not choose and wished their hearts’ cruelest desires onto me. As one would assume those desires became my reality as I grew older and started to fight back against them. Their words hurt but they bounced off where they once slashed. Their look stung where they once left burn gashes. Their foul intentions felt like flicks on my nose where they once felt like I’d been beaten to a pulp.

My body still wasn’t my own even though when I prayed for it to be returned to me. Boys who felt entitled to looks and touches tried to lay their claim to me. Men who felt like they deserved praise for caring for me tried to demand me in payment for their actions. Too jaded against it all, I turned to a creature that would prove to be far worse than any boy or man I could’ve been gifted to.

The creature I thought I would safety in begged for my eternal devotion and demanded that I give over whatever I could. He made me into a prisoner and my body into a witch that worshipped him.

Every molecule that made up my body, mind, and heart screamed when I began to fight against its urges. The enormity of my own craving made me sick when I wailed at the scorching of my secret ministrations.

At night, I poisoned my mind when it thought of him. I bruised my limbs when they carried me towards him. I broke what I had to when I tried to search for him. I destroyed myself over and over again until the thought of him made my stomach turn and my skin crawl.

The sick version of me tried to bend me and sent fever throughout me. In my delirium, her half truths felt like the sweetest angelic hymns. Whispering into my ear, she tried to coax me into slipping back into my old solutions.

I renounced her honeyed voice and vomited out her milky words. I renounced her hungered tongue and spat out her name along with his. I fused the flames that came when I thought of him with the spite I conjured and burned the bitch alive from the inside out.

Morphed into a starved and twisted soul, I laughed when he began to resent me. It took him months to realize that something had changed within me. I was no longer painted with soft edges and stunning features but carved into a curveless piece of skin and bone that mocked him. At dinners and events thrown in his favor, I sipped at my rotten wine while the women among me gossiped the state of my marriage. They did not utter a single word for how I seemed to be fairing but how the once holy union between him and I seemed to be slipping.

I sipped at the foul liquid until it stained my lips a violent shade of calculated vengeance. I pretended to swallow entire bottles and postured drunkenness so they would think I couldn’t hear the things they confessed to.

My husband’s heavy stare always found me as I slumped further and further into my chair, allowing him to believe that my pain to consumed me. The hungry leery he masked with an adoring gaze had faded into disappointment and disgust, so much so that eventually he stopped looking altogether. No longer did he pull me into his lap, his Herculean arms caging me in falsified comfort and demand to know what was bothering his beautiful wife.

Instead he found younger and more attractive women to watch and eventually fill his time with. Instead a young woman, borderline girl, with flowing locks of auburn hair and gentle curves became his new hobby.

Thin as a rib, my knife slept under my pillow. The feverish bitch within me cried and cried as she watched me plot his demise. It pained the other within me that withered and gasped for air to think I could even contemplate such a scenario.

Could I truly commit murder?

Could I truly force my husband to shuffle off this mortal coil?

The dueling fates were soon quilled when I turned in sleep to find claustrophobia looming over me. His warm body threatened to suffocate me while the haunting sound of his inner thoughts filled the breadth between us. Once I had been pulled into slumbers embrace by his heart beat’s gentle drum and quiet song of his breath but now it closed in on me and pressed.

I could not muster the strength to find my rib like knife nor move it from its hiding place. I promised myself only a few more days of this torture. Only a few more nights of slipping back into his bed before I set myself free.

I hadn’t intended on waiting for another few weeks but an uninvited guest coiled my plan into nothingness.

Azriel the Shadowsinger.

He arrived just as his name implied; as silently as the night and slithered his way in without resistance. He was a man born with charmed words that dripped from his silver tipped tongue and slid between pearly white teeth. A man known for his third eye, the Truth-Teller, that when he showed up on our doorstep, my husband begged him to stay for fear of his wrath. Like a shadow, he was present in every crevice of the house and was not seen. My husband’s ego got his way, tripping him up as he stumbled to accommodate Azriel, the embodiment of shadows with violent hazel eyes.

The woman my husband found to be my replacement took her role before I was revealed. Instead I was whisked away into a room hidden deep within the compound. She played the dutiful host and doted on her guests. She donned the gowns once crafted for me and wore the jewelry I previously did. She laughed at the jokes the men made and smiled sweetly at the husband she desired but would never love. She became the wife and I hated to see another take my place for I knew what awaited her.

I wanted to spare her. I tried to spare her but my efforts were in vain. She cried out when I told her to leave. She screamed when she saw my knife meant my husband. She fell into it when I tried to pull away from her ivory grasp.

As I said, I hadn’t intended on becoming into the personification of destruction but it was inevitable when I was given no other choice.

Blood drips from me and hits the floor beneath me with a deafening loudness as my husband stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air; “What have you done?”

“What have I done?” I calmly ask, arching a brow at the man who stands and dares to judge me. “The better question is what did you make me do.”

It’s a disgusting sight to behold; him pretending that I’m nothing more than a body of mangled bones and broken convictions molded by him. Dark as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, his gaze tries to weigh me down and fails.

Azriel smiles when he senses my anger and he becomes a conduit of my emotions as the twin sinister glint to mine flickers in his dark eyes. He reclines against the rotting wood walls like a feline would; regal and untouchable but lethal all the same.

My husband throws a glance to the blood that is pooling around me with disappointment before speaking, “Your actions are your own. Take responsibility for the carnage that you have created for once in your pathetic life. This is all your fault, y/n.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

Take responsibility? My fault?

Fitting that he would choose to say that I need to take the blame for the actions I committed because of him. He had been the one to deem me an object to be bought and sold. He had been the one to make me in his image and create a wife he felt was worthy of him. He had been the one to turn my body into a heretic and I had no other choice but to burn her at the stake.

“Husband,” I start as I take a step forward while he takes one back, “What I have done is only because you forced my hand. Every drop of blood, scream ripped from raw throats, tears shed have been because of you.”

Azriel’s terrifying chuckle rings through the room, causing the remaining members of my husband’s house to drop their heads and hide their fear. The blood of their new lady of the house fills the room with a coppery stench and some have taken to covering their faces with their collars. As Azriel around the room, his chest swells with pride at the terror that he’s caused in them but it stills when he lands on me.

A creature who’s grown angular and unholy in the confines of her husband’s cage.

He smiles as he lets his dagger like eyes to slash across my frame.

“Enough of whatever petty martial bullshit this is about,” he dismisses with boredom thick in his voice. “You took something from me and I want it back.”

My husband attempts to fix the situation but the guest cuts him off.

“I said enough,” he seethes, gritting out the words between clenched teeth. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue.

Within seconds my coward of a husband is lying on the ground, crying and begging for his lord as the Lord of Bloodshed, Cassian, stands over him with his siphons glow a brilliant red.

“Please I don’t have it. I swear I don’t have it!” he begs while the bigger man growls before landing a swift kick to his stomach. “Take whatever you want, please. Anything and it’s yours.”

Cassian looks to Azriel and awaits his judgment. Azriel has not looked away from me this entire night. He’s still locked in on me as he nods. Cassian bends down and grips my husband by the neck, hauling him up so high his feet dangle helplessly below him.

“That’s a dangerous deal you’ve just made.”

My husband begs and begs for his own life but not for mine or even the wife he replaced me with as she lays on the floor in a pool of blood.

“If only I believed you,” Azriel sighs, “but I don’t and I’m not in the mood to hear any more of your lies.”

“Y/n..” my husband turns his pleading to me but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“Enough,” I hiss at him, rage boiling in my veins, “You used and manipulated me for years. I was nothing but a toy to brought out when you grew bored. You’ve shoved me off to the side and pushed me to my breaking point but now that the consequences are coming for you, you turn to me and expect me to help.”

Azriel has taken to prowling towards me now that my calm facade has dropped. He stalks me like an apex predator would their prey.

“Did you hear that, princess?” He poses the question to me and only me. “He’s offering you up like a prized goat when he could just give me what he took. That’s not very nice now is it? Seems a bit selfish doesn’t it?”

I attempt to sneak a glance at my husband but he catches my chin in a tight grip, “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

And I do. I’m met with a torrid stare that calls to that divinely angular and starving creature within me.

“You can have her! Take her, please! Please just don’t kill me,” my husband cries out as if I’ll be his saving grace. The sounds are muffled as the utter chaos that lives within Azriel’s heart soothes me into the fall.

I fall into the forked tongued embrace of this devilish man.

I fall into the need of a python that wraps itself around us both.

I fall into the heaving breaths that lunge my chest up and down as I stare at his lips.

I fall into the visions of heat, sweat, gluttony, and lust that awaits us.

Azriel visibly cringes before me at my husband’s words but waits for me.

“Well princess?”

“I want my freedom,” I demand and he flashes me a disastrously beautiful smile.

“Of course,” he promises me. “Of course, princess.”

[pupsmailbox]

LOVECORE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　adelaide. admirer. adora. adoraten. adore. ai. aiko. amadeus. amara. amor. amora. amore. amorette. amorie. amour. amoure. amourette. amy. angel. annabelle. aphrodite. arrow. atuf. bambi. bastet. bear. beau. bes. bliss. blossom. bow. bunny. caleb. candy. carwyn. ceri. charity. chelsea. cherie. cherria. cherrill. cherry. cheryshe. claire. clarissa. claudia. connell. connor. cordelia. crimson. cupid. dahlia. dante. david. delphine. desiree. desyre. dhalia. doll. dove. dylan. eldad. eros. esme. esme.cara. euphor. flower. freya. frill. garden. harp. hart. heart. heartstring. heretic. honey. honeybee. hubert. hugh. ingrid. iris. julia. julie. juliet. juliette. june. kalei. kara. kevin. kiss. koramor. lennon. lev. love. lovebird. lover. loverboy. lucinda. luvbelle. luvia. lynn. mabel. mabel.mila. mai. mars. may. maya. melody. milo. milos. mona. obi. ophelia. paramour. paris. passerine. passion. pearl. phillip. pippa. pippi. raymond. red. reed. reese. ren. rhett. rhys. roma. romanciel. romeo. rosalyn. rose. rosetta. rosette. rumor. sky. sugar. tahlia. teddy. thalia. theo. tyas. val. valen. valentina. valentine. valentino. valerie. vanessa. venus. vera. vincent. violet. vivian. vivianna. vivianne. yua. ásta. éowyn.

PRONOUNS ⌇　<3/<3. ado/adore. adore/adore. ae/aer. am/amour. bli/bliss. bouquet/bouquet. bow/bow. bud/bud. charm/charm. che/cher. cher/cherish. choco/chocolate. chu/chu. co/cora. coo/coo. cu/cupid. cu/cute. cupid/cupid. cute/cute. dar/darling. date/date. de/dear. de/devote. dear/dear. desi/desire. doe/doe. doe/dove. er/ero. ero/ero. eternity/eternitie. euphor/euphoria. fle/fleur. flower/flower. fri/frill. friend/friend. gift/gift. he/heart. he/hymn. hea/heart. heal/heal. heart/heart. hon/honey. hope/hope. hug/hug. hx/hxm. hy/hymn. h♡/h♡m. kie/kiss. kiss/kiss. kyuu/kyuu. lae/lace. lav/lavender. lo/love. love/bug. love/love. love/lovely. love/lover. lu/luv. lust/lust. luv/luv. myst/mystic. pass/passion. pink/pink. plu/plush. pray/pray. prince/prince. re/red. red/red. ri/ribbon. ro/rose. rose/rose. royal/royal. sacri/sacrifice. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. sh♡/h♡r. smitten/smitten. soft/soft. sweet/sweet. tear/tear. ted/teddy. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. tu/lip.| val/val. val/valen. val/valentine. valentine/valentine. ve/venus. vei/veil. veil/veil. vir/virtue. xo/xo. xoxo/xoxo. ye/yearn. yearn/yearn. ❤️ . 🌹 . 🍓 . 🍫 . 🍯 . 🍰 . 🎀 . 🏩 . 👑 . 💋 . 💍 . 💌 . 💐 . 💒 . 💓 . 💘 . 💝 . 💞 . 🤍 . 🦢 .

[bonefall]

all this christian warriors talk reminds me of that one tumblr user who didnt/couldnt? listen to music as a child so they imagined warrior cats amvs to the church hymns

Iirc that person would nod off in church and imagine AMVs to the hymns, it wasn't that they were banned from music

But that happens too. Raise your hand if you ever had a family member freak out when they learned about something magic/satanic/heretical about some kind of media you were interested in 🖐

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

I have so many bishop thoughts and headcanons in my mind I can't focus on anything else so I'm just gonna regurgitate them here:

- Leshy has whatever the godly equivalent of ADHD. He is chaos incarnate, literally. He is always moving, always fidgeting with things under his cloak, is always pacing around and talks to himself a lot

- Also my man's invented flowers. Plants existed before his birth, of course, but modern day flowers were his creation, plants shaped and crafted to be bowls for the insects to dine from. He looks out for the smallest amongst them, even the most insignificant

- Among the siblings he was the most artistically inclined. He loved to paint, and sculpt, and in fact glass making was a great passion of his alongside gardening. On his 1,000th year anniversary of godhood, he surprised each of his siblings with a stained glass portrait in their temples, depicting each of them in the most significant memory he had of them: for Heket, it was her grandest harvest ritual. For Narinder, the very first sacrifice in his name. For Kallamar, the day he parted the seas to pluck the deepest ocean crystals for a ritual. And for Shamura, their weaving of a Time Tapestry that depicted the future

- Leshy hasn't made a single artistic piece since loding his vision. His crown can show him his surroundings, but it's not the same. Narinder's betrayal drained away his creative spark, and he has no desire to make anymore

- As a frog, Heket is very musically inclined. Before losing her voice, she'd often lead her congregations in the most vibrant hymns and choruses of praise, and in fact composed almost every musical piece that is used to sing glory to their names. She wrote hundreds, thousands, countless songs for her siblings, and her favorite way to funnel devotion was to have her followers sing to her. Wind and string instruments were her favorite, but she could play just about anything

- Even before Narinder's banishment, Heket was a very serious, rather surly individual. It wasn't easy to make her laugh, and in fact only her siblings could, and even then it was an uphill battle. But if they could, she had the deepest, biggest belly laughs, the kind that would leave a person bent over with their arms around their middle, tears of mirth streaming down her face. She hasn't had a good laugh since Narinder was imprisoned, and of course hasn't sung or danced either. Music now just makes her sad, and the sadness makes her angry: she forbids any sort of music in her temple

- Heket mothered/fathered most if not all of the mini-bosses of Anura. Frogs can swap their sex with ease, and she's a goddess: I think she should be able to lay her own eggs or fertilize another's on a whim 😌 each was the strongest child of each clutch, only one selected among hundreds as worthy to serve their mother's temple in lofty positions. Trained and cultivated from the moment of hatching, she is both incredibly proud of and incredibly hard on them, demanding perfection and depthless devotion at all times. Her children give it gladly, for they are so lucky to be in the presence of their mother who is holy

- Before banishment, Narinder was very close to Shamura. They all were, really, but him especially: he shared the eldest's passion for the written word. As a godling he'd so often sneak into Shamura's forbidden library to partake in ancient knowledge and prophecies, though he was of course too young to understand it. He'd often beg Shamura to read to him, and even after outgrowing that need, he'd often seek out his sibling so they could read in amicable silence together, shoulder to shoulder with each holding one side of the book

- As the god of death and the shepherd of souls, he was expected to pass judgements on the deceased, be they blessed or damned. It was a special joy of his, getting his chance to play with the heretics his siblings tortured and sacrificed. They would know no peace, even in death, for daring to go against the Old Faith

- The first time Narinder reversed death and let a mortal walk again was actually his niece: Heket's half-mortal daughter, Zepar. She had been slain tragically by a traitorous dissenter, and the way his sister wailed with grief rattled him to his very core. He didn't even realize death could be undone, he just... grabbed the little one's soul, fixed her body with his power, and breathed life back into her. It was a shock to everyone but especially to him

- Kallamar wasn't always so timid and faint of heart. After Shamura he's the oldest, and his sibling was already an adult when he was born. In comparison, the other 4 were born in relatively short periods of time, close together. Kallamar was kind of their ringleader when they were growing up, and Shamura once remarked it seemed he was, "Born without fear." He was cocky, knowing he was a god and therefore immortal and invulnerable. He wasn't afraid of anything: the entire world was his playground. He led his three youngers siblings on adventures all the time, always dragging them into some mischief or other. He was perhaps the most gullible of the siblings, believing them all to be truly indestructible. Was it any surprise, though? For several hundred thousand years, they were

- When Narinder attacked them all, it basly affected all of them but Kallamar the worst: it was the first time he'd ever truly felt pain, had ever bled, had ever been afraid for his life. Had ever been truly afraid in general. And it deeply scarred him; PTSD left him a husk of his former self. He developed crippling paranoia and anxiety as his mind introduced a slew of previously unconsidered possibilities: if the Red Crown could hurt them, then could anything else? How would he know it was coming? Would he know? Could he? Would... would his other siblings turn on him the same way? He felt horrible for thinking that way, because he trusted and loved them so much, but anxiety cannot be reasoned with. He started to doubt his safety with them, and withdrew into his shell. He stopped speaking to them as much, and whenever they were together he couldn't keep his eyes from starting around nervously. Looking for a trap, looking for a way out, hands subtly shaking and shoulders trembling beneath his robes. It makes him miserable, torments him, because how can he be suspicious of the family he so dearly adores? But Narinder has shattered his ability to trust--once the safest place, their family is no longer an undefeatable bastion and he's riddled with fear because of it

- Kallamar is very hard of hearing even with his crown: it amplifies any and every sound around him so he can always be aware of what's going on. He prefers to be underwater, deep in the Seas of Sorrow, where underwater volcanoes power his forges and he can make his many weapon for defense in peace

- He desperately needs therapy and regularly has night terrors and flashbacks

- Shamura is a prophet, clairvoyance a gift they've always possessed. There are many ways they record the future: in books as written riddles, sometimes as images woven into countless silk threads that make up their webs, and sometimes at their loom. Tapestry weaving takes a long, long time, and is only reserved for the holiest of visions: the birth of their siblings was each recorded in one wuch tapestry millenia before any came to be, and they waited anxiously for the stars to reach the appropriate alignment recorded in the threads

- On the day of Narinder's birth, they recieved a terrible vision, fortelling of the way their baby brother would one day betray them. They tried so hard to stop the prophecy, thinking perhaps it could be foiled with endless love and devotion, but despite their affections Narinder still raised his blades against them. It's a regret that weighs heavy on their mind for all eternity, even though they know there's nothing they could have done

- As the god of war and wisdom they know best to pick their battles, and are sought out for their brilliant mind as often as they are for blessings in battle. Silk Cradle was the origin of ritualistic pit fights, though usually reserved for heretics as a punishment, forced to bludgeon each other to death for the amusement of the faithful before their souls could be passed to Narinder for judgement

- Shamura raised all 4 of the bishops, naturally, and loves their siblings with all their heart. Watching them all grow into fine adults is something they will always take immense pride in. Their greatest wish is that the five of them can be together, for eternity, living in happiness while the mortals worship them and feed them their endless devotion

- Shamura is actually rather vain: they made and designed all of the bishops' robes by hand, spun of their finest silk and embroidered with golden threads. They preen frequently, and thoroughly enjoy bathing in the hot springs. A god must always look their best to inspire and strike awe into the mortals that worship them, no?

- Shamura doesn't need to eat, none of them do, but thoroughly enjoys nothing more than delicately sipping warm blood directly from a sacrifice's veins. In true spider fashion they'll occasionally leave particularly tasty mortals strung up in trapped webs, delightful little bloodbags for them to drink from again later. Sometimes they'll even feed the really yummy ones, just so they'll stay alive longer and keep naturally producing blood

I think that's it for now. Maybe now I can sleep lmao. I love the bishops

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters as the Twelve Olympians

[Spoilers throughout! Please assume that each entry will contain spoilers for the character mentioned through the most recent book for that character--aka, spoilers for Rhythm of War in the Navani entry, spoilers for Warbreaker in the Blushweaver entry, etc.]

Hey look, I’m using my Classical Studies PhD for something! :D Anyway, here’s my take on which Cosmere characters would be best suited to take on the roles of various gods from the Greek Pantheon. And yes, there are 13 here since like everything in Greek mythology, the canon members of the Olympic Pantheon are disputed. 

1. Zeus: Gavilar (Stormlight Archives)

Zeus is the head of Olympian gods, the king of kings, and a Grade A jerk-ass who is often cruel to his wife, lovers, kids, etc. Gavilar has a lot in common! In the Theogony, Zeus ends a generations-long war among the gods through force and cleverness, much as Gavilar “unites” Alethkar. Zeus is held up as the emblematic king, and Gavilar is now a kingly symbol as well. Yet in his private life, Zeus is a total asshole to his wife Hera and is cruel to any of his kids that he sees as “flawed” (like tossing Hephaestus right over the side of Olympus). Gavilar is abusive towards Navani and not a great father either. So in terms of both accomplishments & flaws, Gavilar would make a great Zeus. That’s not a compliment.

2. Hera: Jasnah (Stormlight Archives)

[Note: the relationships among the gods are disregarded for this list! I’m not saying Jasnah is married to her father!]

Hera is the queen of the gods, and she does tend to get a bad rap in mythology; most of her stories are about her jealously tormenting various women whose only crime is being assaulted by Zeus. But in general, Hera is a protector of women and a standard of femininity: in her cult and in her statuary, she is regality and femininity personified. Jasnah is always meticulous in her presentation and looks like the ideal Alethi woman. In her scholarship she promotes and protects women, but she is also no stranger to resorting to violence when she deems it necessary--sometimes violence that others may feel is too far. Like when she kills a bunch of criminals to teach Shallan Philosophy or when she literally has an assassin on retainer, planning to kill Aesudan. Jasnah may not act out of jealousy as Hera usually does, but both of them are perfectly willing to kill in service of larger aims. Also, much as Hera has a bad reputation, so too is Jasnah denigrated as a heretic. And finally, Jasnah is now literally the queen.

3. Poseidon: Queen Fen or Kaladin (Stormlight Archives)

Man, I really had a hard time with Poseidon, god of the sea and patron of sailors. In terms of the sea-faring aspect, Queen Fen felt the closest: she rules a coastal city and is literally a patron of sailors. So she works in a literal sense.

If we’re thinking of Poseidon more as “the other powerful one” (since Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades are the three brothers who divide control of the world) and as the “earth-shaker,” then I could see an argument for Kaladin. Kaladin is closely associated with the Stormfather, who does all of the earth-shaking and storm-brewing on Roshar, and Kaladin rides his storm. But mostly, I’m not gonna lie, I just think it would be funny for Kaladin to be the god of horses. 

4. Demeter: Raboniel or Rlain (Stormlight Archives)

Demeter is the goddess of agriculture, so Raboniel was probably not your first thought. But listen, the Hymn to Demeter concentrates on how Demeter reacts to her daughter Persephone being taken by Hades. Demeter first searches frantically, then simply halts all agriculture until Zeus is ready to negotiate. And when I think of someone who will do literally anything to help her daughter, no matter who might be harmed in the process...I honestly think Raboniel, who created a god-killing weapon that could be used against her own people in order to end the suffering of her daughter. Plus, Demeter is both someone who halts all agriculture, dooming humanity, but also tries to turn a baby into a god in thanks for a human family’s hospitality. And Raboniel too is both ruthless and oddly generous to those she respects, as her relationship with Navani demonstrates.

Or there is Rlain, who is currently helping the people of Urithiru figure out how to farm through singing, much as Demeter taught agriculture to Triptolemus. Plus, Rlain lived among the humans as a spy, which reminds me somewhat of Demeter living among the humans while pretending to be one. And Demeter does try to bridge the human-divine gap by turning baby Demophon into a god, and Rlain is trying to bring humans & singers together. 

5. Aphrodite: Blushweaver (Warbreaker)

Aphrodite is the goddess of love and sex, and Blushweaver really is the obvious counterpart here. Like Aphrodite, Blushweaver is a gorgeous, well, goddess who is open about her sexuality and who embraces pleasure. Especially in her Roman incarnation, Aphrodite is also a guide and supporter for her heroic son Aeneas, which is somewhat similar to Blushweaver’s role in getting Lightsong to, well, get off his ass and do something. Finally--and forgive me in advance--in the Iliad Aphrodite tries to get involved in the Trojan War and it goes badly for her, and Blushweaver also meets a bad end after trying to be involved in martial politics. Although, like, Aphrodite just gets stabbed in the hand and Blushweaver dies so the two aren’t that similar. 

6. Athena: Azure or Jasnah (Stormlight Archives)

Athena is the goddess of war and wisdom--so more like strategy and cunning in war, rather than sheer violence (for that, please see Ares below). Athena leaps fully formed from Zeus’ head, already fully armed, and is the patron of heroes like Odysseus. From the perspective of her men, Captain Azure just sort of appears and seizes charge of the city guard, and she uses both good strategic sense and fighting prowess to protect the city. She also dominates in the traditionally male field of warfare and helps out a bunch of men, which are things Athena also does.

But I also want to recognize that Jasnah would make a good Athena if I hadn’t already used Jasnah for Hera, which is my personal preference. Jasnah has the intelligence, the wisdom, and the sheer fighting prowess (she fights on the front lines in one book). Jasnah also nourishes a hero (Shallan) which again suits Athena.

7. Artemis: Shallan (Stormlight Archives)

Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and of wild nature. The “hunting” aspect first drew me to Shallan, considering that as a member of the Ghostbloods, Shallan is always hunting something or someone. Shallan also has a keen interest in nature, studying cremlings for fun, going on archaeological missions to the Shattered Plains, and being sad when that chasmfiend that was trying to eat them died. Artemis is also no stranger to bloody violence, like when she turned Acteon into a deer to be torn apart by his own dogs (ouch) because he spied on her bathing. And Shallan is no stranger to poetic justice, as when she strangles her own father with the necklace he gifted her. 

8. Apollo: Lightsong or Renarin (Warbreaker, Stormlight Archives)

Apollo is the god of light, music, prophecy, and healing. I have to use Lightsong here given that his name SCREAMS Apollo--light and song! Plus, Lightsong has the powers of prophecy and of healing, and he is a fan of beauty and luxury. Lightsong is also super hot, as Apollo (knows that he) is. 

Renarin is another character who possesses both future sight and healing powers, which is an Apollo-esque combo. I will say that I don’t see as much of a match personality-wise between Apollo and Renarin, since I like Renarin whereas Apollo does things like curse Cassandra for not having sex with him and hunts Daphne until she has to turn into a tree to escape. Like, Renarin literally would never. 

9. Ares: Dalinar or Vin (Stormlight Archives, Mistborn)

Athena is the god of strategy in war, whereas Ares is the god of combat itself, in the sense of sheer, unrelenting, somewhat mindless violence. Honestly, the Thrill in the Stormlight books would be a good approximation of Ares’ power: it gives a person incredible fighting prowess, but with no real sense of any larger concerns of strategy or logic. So Dalinar as a fighter who understands and has embraced the Thrill would make a good Ares--a more tempered one than the Ares of mythology, if we’re being honest. And in a similar vein, Vin is also very, very good at wreaking incredible havoc. She slices through entire armies, cuts people in half with swords, kills a god...she would also make an excellent Ares. And since Vin basically has godlike status as of Mistborn Era 2, she’s nearly in this role already!

10. Hephaestus: Navani (Stormlight Archives)

Hephaestus is a craftsman god, especially blacksmithing and metalworking. He also has an unhappy marriage, as he is married to Aphrodite who barely gives him the time of day in most stories (she’s busy getting it on with Ares). Navani is an inventor of fabrials and a patron of others. She’s the one who manages to invent god-killing weapons in Rhythm of War, which is very Hephaestus-coded. She’s also no stranger to an unhappy marriage with a spouse who mistreats her. Finally, one little story about Hephaestus in the Iliad is how he keeps the peace among the bickering Olympians, which is reminiscent of how Navani has to keep the peace among the Alethi nobility back when Gavilar used to leave all of that to her.

11. Hermes: Hoid (all books)

In the Hymn to Hermes, Hermes is a trickster figure with one goal in mind: getting admitted to Olympus by any means necessary. And he does this by tormenting Apollo with various tricks, all the while taking advantage of the fact that he just born yesterday--how could Hermes the innocent little baby do anything bad?? Anyway. Hoid is also a trickster figure who loves disguises and false names and doing whatever is necessary to get what he wants. Hermes is also an inventor and storyteller, and Hoid has those qualities as well. Finally, Hermes in other iterations is a guide, someone who can lead a hero through dark places. And Hoid takes on that role too, guiding people like Shallan or Kaladin through some of the darkest periods of their lives. 

12. Hestia: Rock (Stormlight Archives)

Hestia is the goddess of hearth and home, and she’s associated with the fire in the hearth. To me, this is reminiscent of Rock whose stew is the central place of belonging for Bridge 4. Rock also does not fight--and neither does Hestia, who is one of the few gods who lacks any mythology about vengeance or violence. Instead, Hestia is the deity who makes sure you have a home.

13. Dionysus: Adolin (Stormlight Archives)

Dionysus is the god of wine, indulgence, and gender fuckery. And I know the obvious candidates for a Dionysus are the Returned from Warbreaker, but I’ve already used them. And I think I can make a case for Adolin! Adolin likes his wine and his women, and thanks to his relationship with his mom, he acts in ways that seem unmasculine to the Alethi--like being more physically affectionate and emotive. And Dionysus too had an un-Greek heritage that made the Greeks read him as foreign in the Bacchae. Plus, Dionysus does ultimately end up in a stable relationship with Ariadne, much like Adolin with Shallan. Finally, Dionysus is something of a shit-stirrer; when he shows up in Bacchae he turns that town upside down. And let’s not forget how Adolin murdered a high prince and is one of the few main characters to have not bonded a spren. He goes his own way. Sometimes violently. But mostly he knows what he likes and he’s not afraid to show it.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Author's note: Mer-Cedric's Debut in Celestial Seas’! I hope you enjoy it. Bakerin and Quilterin (Arnault's Bonded) belong to the wonderful @kit-williams! Thank you for letting me borrow them. The song Cedric is singing is Amen and Attack by Powerwolf. Next fic

Warnings: none, please ask to tag!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @@the-pure-angel @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Summary: Mer-Cedric trades with a couple of allied baseline humans.

Cedric hummed softly to himself as he gutted and de-scaled the half-dozen large tuna that he had hunted down and caught. He was currently sitting on one of the sand spits that appeared near the shore of the nearby beach. He checked the temperature of the fire by placing a hand near the crackling base of the flames before returning to the task of preparing the tuna.

Most of the time, the young shark mer ate his kills fresh and raw, but he'd recently come into possession of an unspoiled pouch of delicious smelling herbs and spices, and the occasional cooked meal wasn't a bad thing. Besides, the parts of the tuna he wasn't going to be making into grilled steaks were going into the boiling water as part of the stock for a hopefully delicious stew he was also making. He'd sent a request to some of the local humans to please bring fresh vegetables - for which he was happily going to trade some of his tuna meat in exchange - to build out the body of his stew. He'd added some kelp and sea asparagus to the slowly cooking stock, but he was looking forward to trying potatoes and onions for the first time.

Maybe some corn, too! Or mushrooms...

He began to sing one of the holy hymns that his older brothers had taught him as he worked “Fight the demons of this world, no victims left to hide. Eins! Zwei! Amen and attack! Make them pray or make them pay! It's time to swim up right. Drei! Vier! Amen and attack.”

Preparing the tuna felt meditative. He continued to sing as he sprinkled seasonings on half of the tuna steaks, spearing each on a stick and setting them over the fire to cook, his mind wandering to past battles that he'd partaken in, as his voice once again lifted in song.

“When the night is cold and black, we sing amen and attack!”

Deamons and Traitors rarely attacked during the day, preferring instead to use cowardly and weak tactics in order to try and catch their would-be prey off-guard. While the local humans could do little against such supernatural forces, the shiver Cedric belonged to had taken to patrolling the area, ripping into the heretics and demons with their wickedly sharp claws and jaws.

In gratitude, the humans helped however they could. The medical supplies they left out were incredibly useful to Cedric and his fellow apothecaries as they tended to their injured brothers.

“And we lead the storm of the wild! Be the wildest of the pack! Screaming amen and attack!” Cedric belted out as he carefully turned over the tuna steaks, to ensure they were being heated evenly. Even though a majority of his training focused on how to keep his brothers alive and in fighting shape, that did not mean his combat training was lacking.

As an Apothecary of a Black Templar Shiver, one of his duties was to mitigate damage.. and if that meant taking out the largest or most dangerous opponents at range with the weapons he had at his disposal, so much the better. The God-Emperor had blessed them with strength and abilities far beyond mortal ken, and their duties were to protect and defend their charges from all threats.

A duty that Cedric took most seriously.

“We fight with Him on our side! Amen and attack! Attack! Attack! Amen and attack!” Cedric continued to sing. The half of the tuna he wasn't cooking he had carefully wrapped up in treated kelp leaves, to keep the meat fresh and easily transportation.

He hoped that some of the humans who had promised they would come were going to arrive soon. The first of the tuna steaks were nearly ready!

Cedric was about to sing the next verse when he heard approaching footsteps from behind and to the left of him, prompting the young Apothecary to turn and look at the pair of approaching humans.

It took him only a moment to recognize their scents and trilled a greeting to two of his older Brothers' Favorite Humans! He recognized their scents and faces immediately! “Hello Miss Bakerin! Hello Miss Quilterin! It's wonderful to meet you again!”

Both of the baseline humans smiled in response as they came close enough to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Miss Bakerin spoke first “Good afternoon… You are Cedric, yes? The… The healer in training?”

“Yes I am.” Cedric affirmed with a nod, tail flicking happily in the water. As with all Apothecary mers, his tail was primarily white with red flecks. He did have black striping, to match his non-apothecary brothers. “I have tuna to trade! Some are cooking. The rest are raw, and wrapped, as asked for.” He patted the kelp-wrapped meat carefully with a clawed and webbed hand. He could see that both of them had covered baskets and looked curiously at them.

“We… We've brought a bunch of things.” Miss Quilterin explained, setting down the basket she was carrying. “I.. I've been making these out of water-proof fabric.” out from the basket she pulls out a large, patch-work piece of fabric. Each square has a little scene going on, and Cedric can easily tell that she put a lot of work and effort into making this thing.

“May I touch it?” The young mer asked, intensely curious, though he was trying to be polite. “What is it?”

“This is called a story quilt. Arnault has told me about some of the battles all of you get into, so I tried to make a story quilt out of one of his victories… I hope it turned out okay…” miss Quilterin explained, her face calm but her scent showing her anxiety and uncertainty.

Cedric handled the quilt with the proper awe and respect that such a glorious woven-story deserved. The fabric slipped and slid under his fingers, so he gripped it a bit more tightly “this is amazing, miss. Arnault is going to love this when I show it to him.” Given how long it took to carve the glorious victories of the shiver in sandstone, this quilt was worth at least half of his catch. “By the emperor… If I had know that you were going to be bringing such things, I would have been out hunting for longer!”

“R… Really?” Miss Quilterin stuttered, surprise chasing away her nervousness.

Cedric nodded, entirely serious. “It is difficult to keep more permanent records of our battles, in part because we tend to move from sea to sea. From world to world, and must pack light because of it. That and much record-keeping is difficult to manage underwater or in the depths of space. This is a wondrous gift, miss. Thank you, truly.”

He startled at how red Miss Quilterin got “i… truly? That's… I… Oh Goodness…” She stuttered, her eyes huge and her scent fluctuating rapidly between emotions.

and immediately scooted over to her, dragging his tail up and out of the water, carefully telegraphing his movements as he placed one large hand on her forehead, checking her temperature? “Are you not feeling well, miss Quilterin? Please sit down, I do have some of my medical supplies nearby. Is the heat of the fire too much for you?”

Bakerin chuckled and placed a restraining hand on Cedric's elbow. “Easy, Cedric. She hasn’t taken ill or is affected by heat stroke. She rarely gets such high praise for her work and is having difficulties processing what you're saying with grace.”

Quilterin pouted at Bakerin's words and murmured “I… That's not… That's not exactly true! I just… I didn't know that you would think so highly of this story quilt.”

“Uh huh. See what I mean, Cedric? She flustered easily. She's alright.” Bakerin explained with a playful smile. She reached up and ruffled Cedric's hair. “I brought the vegetables you asked for, as well as some bread. You should eat the bread above water, or it will get soggy.”

“Thank you, Miss Bakerin!” Cedric responded, smiling contentedly. “Do you want cooked or raw tuna? Or a mix of both?” he asked the both of them.

“I'll take four uncooked pieces of raw tuna and two of the cooked pieces, please.” Quilterin asked. “I also brought several quilted slings, as Arnault mentioned that they've helped…”

“Miss, when I said the quilt is worth half of what I've caught, I meant it.” Cedric pointed out, carefully gathering up and pushing the correct amount of Tuna in trade for the quilt alone. “The slings are much appreciated, but will need more tuna to pay for… Or, I did see mussels and class near the shoreline, I could grab some of them for you in trade for those, if you'd like a selection of sea food.”

“I… This is too much, Cedric! I won't be able to eat all of this before it goes bad.” Quilterin protested, shaking her head a little.

“The kelp leaves will help keep the tuna fresh for weeks, and older brothers have told me that tuna freezes well and will last for months that way. I can also use some of the curing salts I brought with me to turn some of them into… I believe it's called jerky in this language? Dried meat that can be stored longer. But you will be getting paid what you’re owed.” Cedric responded. He wasn’t going to steal from this kind human, nor short her what she is owed. A pity the pearl oysters aren’t ready yet and have been claimed by Brother Roland and Brother Arnault for gifts for Miss Bakerin and Miss Quilterin. Not that he was going to ruin that surprise.

“I… Even so, this is far too much high-quality meat for one person to have all at once. We baseline humans don't eat as much meat as you do.” Quilterin explained “Nor do we need as many calories.”

Cedric sighed internally, pouting a little. He did have a small handful of treasures he had found and kept - just in case he found a human he wanted to bond to, like brothers Roland and Arnault have, but the slings were too useful and the quilt too expensive, if she wouldn't take the fish meat he offered. “Well… I also have these, if you are interested.”

From one of his armor’s pockets, he pulls out several pouches. In the first pouch, he lays out a dozen carefully polished abalone shells, which he'd found and treated until they shone, their pearlescent luster almost luminous in the afternoon sunlight. From the second pouch, he pulled out six of the best pieces of ocean jasper he'd found. From the third pouch, he pulled four larimar gemstones, their sea-foam coloration and patterns striking against the brown sand spar they were on. “You may choose up to four from these, along with the meat you requested, miss Quilterin.”

She inspected each of his offerings, and he turned his attention to Miss Bakerin asking “Do you want tuna in trade for your goods? Or would you like a mix of things as well?” he was trying not to fidget.

“Tuna works great for me, Cedric.” Miss Bakerin answered with another smile and hair ruffle. “I've brought bread and vegetables, which aren't as expensive. I would like to try that stew your making, when you're done. If you don't mind.”

“Not at all! But there are tuna guts and scales in the stew, and I intended to make it for my brothers, who are out among the shoals right now.” Cedric warned, aware that baseline humans could get picky about things like that. Some of his brothers were wary about baseline humans and were nearby in case of attack. But Miss Quilterin and Miss Bakerin have always been very nice and kind to him - and Cedric doubted that Brother Roland and Brother Arnault would have chosen untrustworthy baseline humans. He handed over the tuna - raw and cooked in trade for the food she'd brought, immediately getting to work on chopping up the vegetables before putting them in the stew.

“I don’t mind the occasional fish scale in my stew.” Bakerin reassured him with a smile.

“Then I’d be happy to share some of it with you, when it’s ready.” Cedric answered earnestly.

“I've picked out which of these gems you're offering… You're sure that the quilt and the slings are worth this much,” Quilterin spoke up. She was holding up two of the abalone shells and one each of the Larimar and ocean jasper stones.

Cedric was sad to see them go, but it was worth it for the high quality supplies offered. “Alright, they are yours, along with the meat you requested.”

“If you don't mind me asking… What was that song you were singing when we were walking over?” Bakerin asks curiously as she arranges the tuna meat he’d given her in the basket she'd come with.

“Oh! It's one of the battle hymns my older brothers taught me.” Cedric explained “I learned it recently and it's been stuck in my head. I hope that the lyrics weren't too off-putting.”

“Nah, you're fine, Cedric. You've got a good singing voice… Does Roland sing? I haven't heard him sing, not that I remember, anyways.”

Cedric blinked in surprise at that “... But… Brother Roland has one of the best singing voices of the entire shiver! He leads the battle choir. Thank you for the compliment, miss.” He checked how the vegetables were cooking, nibbling on a piece of potato. The texture felt off, so he let the stew continue to cook, happy to chat with Miss Bakerin and Miss Quilterin as the veggies cooked.