#with heretical sprinkles...

[raeb33s-art]

WIP forge puppy that I have no idea if I'll finish...

Also bonus:

I swear it is a mostly iconoclast run.

[aratakigang]

The Dottores after finding a method to halt the effects of Eleazar by putting Collei through the most mentally horrific and physically excruciating torture known to man, even causing countless children to die as a result

[godwyne]

marika knowing deep in her soul that eventually, one day, she will have to make an enemy of miquella. such blatant display of opposition to the erdtree, the golden order and to the greater will would reflect poorly on her if she failed to act.

but i think as his mother, she would allow him the grace of failure before being forced into action.

[boundbyeclipse]

the devil to to the rescue.

genre : angst, fluff (?)

word count : 1.5k

tags : vampire!female!reader, heretic!kai, brother!damon, bestfriend!enzo, bestfriend!bonnie, reader feeds on an animal, small mentions of Caroline, Tyler, and Klaus

a/n : i don’t know if there’s fluff in this but maybe a tiny sprinkle of it (?), wrote this in one go because i was bored so excuse any grammar mistakes if there are any ♡

Full moon shone brightly above your head as you were out to feed in the dark woods. As a newly turned vampire, you needed to feed, and having some knowledge, thanks to Caroline, you decided to head out alone. Though Damon had encouraged you to try out human blood, you refused it under any circumstance. There was no way in the world you were going to hurt people, and if control was lost, you could kill them. It just wasn’t what you wanted.

As you found your target, which was a deer, you took a deep breath and focused on it before dashing over to it. It wasn’t the best feeling, nor was the taste, but you did what you had to do. And you may ask, why not just go for human blood bags? Tell you what, there were none at the Salvatore boarding house, but you weren’t going to rob a hospital either. This was your only option right now.

“I’m so sorry” you whispered to the poor animal that was lying dead on the ground, wiping off the dripping blood off of your face as you stood up to leave.

You were almost out of the woods when you heard something shuffling and breathing behind you. A pair of glowing eyes is what you saw in between the bushes. Your body tensed up as you began to slowly walk backwards, but your back hit a tree. As you were about to apologise and vanish, a snarling wolf jumped out and sped at you, sinking its teeth into your shoulder mercilessly. It hurt like hell, and you wanted to fight back, but the wolf kept on chewing on the flesh ; you felt weak. But to your advantage, a howl in the distance made the wolf climb off of you and run off deep into the forest without looking back.

You winced in pain, pressing your hand against the wound as you put all of your strength into running, making your way back to the house.

Opening the door you saw Bonnie and Enzo cozily cuddling by the fireplace, whilst Damon was busy looking through the books on the shelves.

“You’re ba- Oh my god, what happened?” Bonnie’s eyes widened as she saw you stumble towards the couch.

“I was out in the woods… I fed…” you could barely speak, hissing at the pain of the bite, your chest heaving.

“I got attacked”

“What? By who?!” Damon spoke with concern in his voice, sitting next to you as he grabbed your hand and revealed the wound to everyone.

“Werewolf” Enzo answered before you could. All three of them exchanged looks, probably thinking about a solution to this problem.

Bonnie pulled the blanket off of her and stood up, Enzo following her movements right after.

“What do we do?”

“Well… Klaus is in New Orleans and he sure as hell won’t show up for just a drop of blood to heal her” Enzo pressed his lips together as he crossed his arms. Damon blinked, deep in his thoughts as he tried to figure a way out. He wasn’t going to let you die, you’re his sister and he loves you to death, so any chance given, he’ll do anything to protect you and save you.

Damon snapped his fingers as he came to a conclusion.

“I think I know who could help us”

Bonnie tilted her head.

“Who?”

“Let me just make a quick call”

The pair looked at each other, Enzo shrugging his shoulders and Bonnie frowning at him, not quite grasping the situation yet. Damon dialed someone’s number and the person on the other line wasted no time in answering. All of you listened to the conversation, impatiently waiting to hear something good. Whoever it was, it didn’t take long to convince them to agree.

“So, do we have a deal?” he asked Damon.

“Yes, yes we have a deal. Now please, hurry up, I don’t want to see my sister in pain for another second”

Bonnie walked up to Damon, her voice stern, hands sweaty in distress.

“A deal? What kind of a deal did you make this time, Damon?”

“Not a big one. Won’t hurt you, promise” the left side of his mouth curved up into a smirk. None of you had any idea what the hell was going on. And knowing Damon, it didn’t really sound like this deal is not a big one.

“Damon” she insisted.

“Relax, Bonnie. I’m handling things just fine. Like I told you - it won’t hurt you. I’m doing this for ____”

“Don’t tell me you’re talking about-“

The door swung open and a tall man entered the house, a little smile on his face as he walked towards the living room you were all at.

“Missed me?” he smiled, raising eyebrows at Damon, then shooting a glance over at Enzo, and lastly, Bonnie.

Enzo narrowed his dark brown eyes “Kai Parker”

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Bonnie whispered under her breath in disbelief, cursing the Salvatore in her head for inviting the enemy.

“Nice to see you too, Bon” Kai smiled, giving her a little wave. Even you couldn’t believe that your brother put faith in this sociopath to save your life. Deep inside you wished you could just smack him across the face, but if Kai is the only option left, then so be it.

“Seriously, Damon?” you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, huffing as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Great. Not even a thank you”

“I won’t say it until I’m actually healed” you snapped back.

Bonnie sighed, wrinkling her nose, her upper lip pulled up. You could tell how mad she was, and you knew how much she hated Kai. She definitely had a reason to react this way.

“Tell me, how in the hell is this ruthless idiot going to help? Aren’t you at least a little bit worried that he might kill her?”

Damon rolled his eyes and grabbed an empty glass, pouring himself a shot of bourbon. He whisked the liquid in circles before drinking some of it. But before he could reply, Kai was the one who answered her question.

“A little bit of magic. Ever heard of siphoning?”

Enzo furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed at him.

“And how are you so sure it’s going to work?”

“Well,” Kai took a seat next to you, “I healed Damon that way after… What was his name again?”

“Tyler Lockwood”

“Oh, right. right. So, Tyler bit him and I just happened to be the one he asked to quite literally, lend a hand”

“Ugh” Bonnie grunted, “just get it over with”

Kai turned his body sideways, you mirroring him so it’s more comfortable for the both of you. He carefully placed his hand over your wound, the contact making you clench your teeth as your skin ached. A deeper shade of orange glimmered from under Kai’s palm, his eyes closed as he siphoned the infection out of you. In a matter of seconds, the wound was gone and you no longer felt any pain. It surprised you how it actually worked.

“There,” Kai raised his hands up, but somehow couldn’t take his eyes off you, “sorry, my bad. You’re just really pretty”

Bonnie rolled her eyes again, stepping closer to Kai.

“Oh, come on, enough of that. You did what you were asked to do, you can leave now”

“Nu-uh, me and Damon had a deal. Which room’s mine?” Kai looked over at your brother.

“Care to tell us what the heck you agreed upon?” Enzo asked.

“Mhm. We’ll let him settle in here. For a little while”

All of you gasped, beginning to argue and go against it. Kai just sat there calmly, observing everyone’s facial expressions and listening to your complaints.

“Your room is upstairs, all the way down the hall on the left. And don’t give me those looks, folks. A deal is a deal. Plus,” Damon pointed at you, “my sister is alive and well”

“I cannot believe you” Bonnie shook her head, exiting the room with anger written all over her face. Enzo cleared his throat and followed his girlfriend to wherever she took off.

“Ouch” Kai raised his eyebrows, hearing no thank you’s from your friends.

“Thanks” you murmured, standing up and walking over to Damon to grab the transparent glass from his hands, filling it up with the amber liquor. Both men watched as you swallowed down the entire shot, surprise written all over their faces as your eyes darted from one to another. You shook your head in a ‘what?’.

“Didn’t expect that from someone who was wailing in pain minutes ago”

“Shut up, Damon” you turned around and made your way towards the stairs, but stopped in your tracks to say more.

“Oh, and,” you pointed at Kai, “you saving my life doesn’t mean I’ll be best friends with you. Also, don’t think about knocking on my door at three in the morning just because you think I’m pretty and you want to stare at me. That’s it for now. Have a good night”

Damon and Kai looked at each other in question, your brother grabbing the whole bottle of alcohol and drinking straight from it.

“You heard her”

Kai snorted.

“Don’t think I heard her say I can’t stare at her while she makes breakfast”

[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.

[localplaguenurse]

hii its amorette—can i just say i freaked out when i saw capillaries updated?? i loved the latest chapter so so much!!

i love how you characterize dottore and wanted to ask if you have any tips on how you write him / things you keep in mind while writing him, since your fic really inspired me to try writing my own! i hope you have a nice day :DD

Hi Amorette!!! Glad you liked it!

I saw this right as my first break at work ended and suffice to say, it’s been on my mind all day. You’ve opened a Pandora’s box, you’re getting a whole character analysis, because Dottore is actually a royal pain to write about so I have to REALLY study this bastard. The first half is going to be just purely on his canon traits, and the rest are my interpretations and headcanons.

So canonically, Dottore is very prideful and driven by the pursuit of knowledge. No subject is off limits to him, and he doesn’t care about how ethical or moral his research is. Whatever he needs to do, he’ll do it, the ends justify the means. He’s been obsessed with surpassing the gods since he was young, which is why he was ostracized by society. Sohreh’s notes describe him as initially “frigid,” but then she goes on to say she had a good time working with him and is looking forward to spending more time with him (Rip Sohreh). He created segments of himself from different ages as a way to surpass the limits of human cognition, and because they could offer their own individual contributions to his research. Omega is described as more selfish since he was the one to nuke the other segments for the gnosis, and Webttore/Beta is more manic and prone to mood swings. Also, none of the segments like each other.

That’s all the canon stuff. With that alone, you already have a pretty solid start for how to write him. He’s a man who views himself above the people who rejected him and wants to surpass the gods that ignored him. He doesn’t really care about keeping company and he barely gets along with himself. He’ll do anything in the pursuit of knowledge and doesn’t care if someone has to die for him to get it done. If Sohreh’s notes are anything to go by, he may have been antisocial but not completely opposed to finding connection, but that’s up to how you personally interpret her notes and subsequent death. He’s very calculating, and though he does resent the gods, he’s at least mature enough to hold it together for a conversation.

Now, onto my personal take on Dottore, which I’ve sprinkled through the fic already but it won’t hurt to share here :3

So the one key thing I have latched onto personally is his name. Zandik. By this point we all know it means “heretic” but really think about that for a second. That is the name of a man who was born in a world where gods are not only real, but they actually interact with the populace. Maybe it was because my bestie got me into Ethel Cain, but I started thinking about the implications/potential of religious trauma. What sort of homelife would a kid have when his own parents named him heretic when god is actually real? Certainly not a very pleasant life. Of course at some point he’d develop a hatred of gods when he’s been seen as a blasphemous monster since he was born. Of course he’d despise society as a whole, they’ve despised him from the start. This isn’t something he asked for, but it’s all he has. He did no wrong and yet all the world hated him for being born, what did they expect him to turn into?

As a result, my personal interpretation of Dottore is that he is still that prideful, cold and calculating scientist that hates the gods and isn’t afraid to do awful things to prove it, but he is also, deep down, motivated by validation. At the very least, that’s how this all started. At this point he’s become more callous, but there’s a part of him that wants to be appreciated, genuinely, by someone or something. This would have been especially prevalent in his younger self/segments, because he’s not as “mature” as he is now. If you cut through the 400 years of his callous cruel ways, you might find a little boy full of pain and anger asking what he did to deserve all of this. 

… TLDR: He’s very smart, very callous, thinks very highly of himself, and I write him as one of those “they treated me like the villain so I became the villain they feared most” characters with a splash or religious trauma for flavour.

If you want to, you're more than welcome to use some of my characterization if you ever write about him! Honestly, for as big a pain in the ass he is to write, he's really interesting to explore as a character! It's actually why my favourite chapters/moments so far are the backstory ones, or whenever he's reflecting on his relationship with widow. He's a bastard and I love him.

[evolutionsvoid]

It is said that elementals born from the Four Humors come forth due to the traces of life left within their fluids. This is spoken by the Church of Divine Wealth, who tells that the Four Humors were created by Ichor, when the godly fluid was separated into four mortal parts. It should never be forgotten that Ichor is the bringer of all life, the very lifeblood that came from the skies. When the great corpses fell to this world, their golden fluids was what brought about creation. It is only fitting that this fluid of life can give birth to new beings on its very own, as Ichor can form into its own elemental. However, there is another godly fluid that can do that as well, though its presence brings no worship, only fear. Alkahest, the rot of the gods, seethes and stagnates within the world. Its corrosive touch bringing true death to everything, feeding on life and giving back nothing. Though the Church calls this silver fluid heretical and forbidden, there is no denying its power. Even in death, there is a spark of life, bringing forth horrible birth. 

The two elementals born from the Godly Fluids are even rarer than the elementals of the humors, as their creation calls for large concentrations of said fluid. To have such vast stores of Ichor untapped, or great reserves of Alkahest left intact, is exceedingly rare. But with the countless corpses and divine graves that make up this world, there is always a stone left unturned. It is said that these elementals are valued more as omens than marks, as their presence hints at a great amount of Godly Fluid nearby. Great blessings to those who discover them, but also great danger...   

Ichor Elemental: The embodiment of life, which can be seen in its ceaseless writhing form. Ichor elementals move across the land like a living storm, their many limbs constantly swaying and grasping. They seek nothing, but give everything, as precious Ichor leaks from their stumps and sprinkles the earth beneath them with life giving fluid. One can track one of these elementals by the trails of vibrant plant growth left in their wake. When an Ichor elemental is spotted, there is much rejoicing, as a store of holy Ichor must be nearby. The Church demands that they be told of all elementals, so that they may send out the proper authorities to deal with this entity and sanctify the Ichor pool that birthed it. Either this Ichor will be harvested and taken back to a major Church sanctuary, or a new temple will be constructed right atop it, where all may bask in the Ichor's divine presence. However, though this elemental gives life, it is by no means peaceful. Life demands death, and existence calls for sacrifice and prey. Ichor elementals will attack any who get too close, their many limbs reaching to snare the victim. One should never forget that Ichor is incredibly toxic to mortals, and being exposed to large amounts of the fluid can mean a painful death. Their touch, though, is the least of one's worries, as the many bodies will stretch out to envelope prey. They will chain themselves together to reach fleeing prey, and then drag them into their writhing mass. Those taken by their arms will be pulled into the unseen maw and bathed in refined, pure Ichor. To some, this seems like a great blessing, but most will find this death horrible and painful. They will be reverted to their primordial fluids, their humors being consolidated into pure Ichor once more. It is said that every victim of an Ichor elemental will become one of its cyclopean growths, joining the mass to forever serve the Godly Fluid.  

Alkahest Elemental: The embodiment of death, one where there is no return. It reeks of the destructive power of Alkahest, its own form melting and fading, only to reconstitute itself again and again. It haunts the land like a specter, spreading death wherever it goes. They take everything, but give back nothing, as the touch of Alkahest dissolves all organic matter. These elementals can be tracked by lifeless silvery paths they carve through the world, where plant, soil and flesh is reduced to dull powder. When an Alkahest elemental is spotted, fear will grip the entire region. Not only is a vile reaper about, but there is an unknown pool of Alkahest nearby, silently eating away at the world and its inhabitants. The Church will spring into action to destroy this elemental and properly seal away this forbidden body. While some may be wary of Church interference, all are relieved that someone else is tasked with facing such a feared foe. There is no wonder of the power this elemental wields, as a single scratch will create a devastating wound, as the Alkahest eats through flesh and bone. Simple strikes leave weeping powdery holes, as victims dissolve away into nothing. This is what everyone truly fears, the final death. Those consumed by Alkahest will be turned to lifeless powder and sludge that will soon fade to nothing, their fluids never returning to the earth for rebirth. To make matters worse, these elementals seek victims, for death demands life. Any living thing will bring its ire, and its long dissolving arms shall seek to end everything it can touch. The one mercy is that Alkahest is inherently unstable and in a perpetual state of decay. In time, the elemental will not be able to hold back its own demise, and it too shall dissolve into nothing.

A warning to all, that these two elementals should never meet. Ichor and Alkahest are two opposing forces, their existences contradicting the other. Unending life cannot meet ceaseless death. Should these Godly Fluids meet in such a state, they would cause an unstable reaction, blowing the land around them to pieces. A quick end for two powerful entities, but a violent one for any caught in the blast. 

------------------------------------------------------

"Elementals of the Godly Fluids"

Just throwing in a couple more elementals! The real important ones!

[skye-huntress]

I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Episode 11

Okay, but why was Rai so late? Surely they’ve been doing this morning routine long enough she shouldn’t have overslept. There’s never an explanation of this, so I wonder if Rae is actually late or if Manaria gets there that much earlier.

“You know, this might be a good opportunity for you to get over Miss Claire.” Blasphemer! Heretic! What kind of best friend are you, Misha? Sure, you two have barely spent any time together since Rae spends all day with Claire and all night doing other nonsense, and she has all these secrets lately, and where was I going with this?

No, no, don’t “put up with it”, fight back! Even if she is trying to provoke you, that doesn’t mean a response isn’t warranted. Just be smart about it so you don’t fall into a trap.

In the game, Manaria was the protagonist’s ally in love specifically. It’s only in Rae’s twisted view that she could be considered in enemy in the first place. Now, this Manaria is behaving differently, but keep in mind that Rae long abandoned the role of “protagonist”. How can Manaria fill her expected role, if Rae has given up on love?

So long as Claire is happy, right? Nothing else matters, not even your own feelings, or your own happiness.

Oh yeah, those two, Pipi and Loretta, still exist. By this point, the novels had already completely forgotten them. The manga is still keeping them around so far.

So the Scales weigh the offerings based on how difficult they are to obtain. The Flower of Flora is the offering known to be the heaviest so it stands to reason it would be “difficult” to obtain, unless you’re an incredibly OP magic user like Manaria.

I was wondering if it would be brought up, since they’re sprinkling information a little at a time instead of one big info dump. Rae doesn’t like “Poesie Amour” as a love story and I kind of agree with her to an extent. Why let the scales decide for you rather than take the initiative yourself?

I wouldn’t be surprised if Manaria knew the pot was already empty. If nothing else, she could easily check the current volume with a bit of subtle wind magic.

Huh, wonder what those two are up to. They’re either running towards Rae, or away from Manaria.

Wow, Claire, I’m surprised you noticed anything about Rae at all, given you’ve only had eyes for Manaria who is intentionally monopolising your time.

Manaria just called Claire out and it went right over her head.

Ah, I think I know why Pepi and Loretta are so freaked out. Even if they haven’t spent much time with Manaria, I’m sure there are plenty of rumours and stories circulating among nobles of both Kingdoms. The funny thing is, Rae should know all those details herself, but any information from the game that didn’t seem useful to her goals has probably been forgotten by now.

Despite her behaviour, Manaria has a point. Romantic love isn’t so selfless, if Rae is truly in love with Claire, then that means she wants to be the one that makes Claire happy, and to have the love returned. Yet, Rae hasn’t tried to form a relationship with Claire, if anything she has kept a certain distance between them. So as Manaria says, either her feelings aren’t nearly as strong as she claims, or she’s a coward.

Claire, you seem nervous for some reason, I wonder who for.

The scary thing about multi-casters, combining multiple elements into even more powerful attacks. Unfortunately that doesn’t just apply to Rae.

Rod, of course she was holding back against you! You’re far too weak to have lasted long in a duel if she had.

Rae started aggressive and busted out all her best, most powerful spells, but as OP as she is, Manaria is several magnitudes above her level.

We’ve seen the attacks Rae could wield with two elements, now we see what happens when you combine all four. They made it look even more brutal than in the manga. Since Dominator turns the target’s own magic against them, it stands to reason the more powerful they are the more damage it does, so it’s incredibly effective against Rae with an Exceptional Aptitude for two elements

It was excessive, but there’s a purpose behind Manaria’s brutality. It makes it all the more clearly that Rae could never have beaten her in a magic duel. Cocytus is Rae’s most powerful attack, and there isn’t much she can do to get stronger on her own.

Claire obviously cares about Rae, it’s just too bad she doesn’t make that clearer. Maybe then, Rae would have had the courage to do things properly.

And now Rae’s spirit has been crushed. This next part is not going to be fun.

ED is a little early this time. We have another four and half minutes of episode left.

It seems seeing Rae hurt has made a bit protective of her, and she’s not even hiding it. Unfortunately Rae is no longer in a state of mind to recognise or appreciate it.

Hey, Claire, remember that whole “love is blind” thing? Seriously, you’re the only person in the whole school who seems clueless about what’s going on.

“I am not some thing to be won!” says the girl who was just defending “Poesie Amour” a little while ago, you know, a story that is all about two men competing over a girl. Look, I get she is angry, and say she has every right to be. I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy.

Claire, I’d advise you against pushing her any further the state she is in… and you just threatened to fire her… and she called your bluff.

Well, as bad as this looks, the arc isn’t over yet. That said, those two idiots aren’t going to figure things out on their own.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Baking: a (somewhat flexible) Science

I've posted a variation of this one already, at least once. Posting again today to dive into an area that frightens a lot of inexperienced bakers, that being the "flexibility" of any given recipe's proportions when any number of variables are introduced into the equation.

This is a batch of Banana-Chocolate-Chip muffins. It's half again as large, yielded 18 instead of just 12 (the usual). That was purely incidental to my point.

The last few batches of muffins I've baked I have had to modify due to various circumstances, the lack of one ingredient that I was sure I had plenty of, a surplus of eggs but no milk, etc.

The latter of those situations was what started these investigative jaunts: I had two dozen eggs on hand, but no milk. Up until then, I had always added the prescribed amount of milk.

However, that batch I had an extra banana over what I usually have to use, and I didn't realize it but I bought extra large eggs, and I had plenty of 'em.

I thought it logical to make up the amount of liquid with the liquidity of the extra banana and (what ended up being) two extra huge-ass eggs. The eggs on the plus side give extra protein and structure. They make the crumb of the muffins incredibly soft, but still substantial.

The only other adjustment I ended up making was to add about a half-teaspoon extra Baking Powder to get the rise correct.

Using other ingredients as part of the liquid required, and correcting the final outcome with additional BPdr.

This batch today was an intentionally heretical extension of this principle. Although I have plenty of milk on hand, I wanted to test my theory further.

The base recipe for these calls for just one egg per six muffins, and 1/3 cup milk. I intentionally left the milk out, and doubled the eggs and bumped up the Bpdr an extra teaspoon.

I also made a slight adjustment to baking time/temp I'll decribe below.

So the final recipe today was:

2/3 cup salted butter

2 cups granulated sugar

4 large over-ripe bananas

4 extra-large "jumbo" eggs

3 3/4 to 4 cups flour (the Bob's Red Mill Pastry Flour was on sale for cheap at safeway this time)

1 Tablespoon + 1 teaspoon Baking Powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

3 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups milk-chocolate chips

Sprinkling Sugar Crystals (approx 1/4 cup per 6 muffins)

The jumbo eggs as well as the extra banana liquid worked perfectly, and it ended up yielding 18 jumbo muffins instead of the usual 12.

When people say baking is a science, I say yes, it is, BUT: where the "baking is magic" people have it over on the lab-coats is learning what ingredients do what, to what degree, and how well does the end product turn out with a bit of creative re-proportioning/substitution.

An added bonus to ingredient switching/enriching is added nutritional value: Protein bumped up, no milk fats. And there is extra added value in "keeping" quality: with extra eggs and the butter, these will stand being out on the counter, under a cake bell, for quite a number of days before they become truly stale or need refrigeration.

And one last aspect of this I wanted to point out: Those carefully-worded procedures that are painstakingly written out aren't ALL carved in stone, either, but there are generally some that you just never stray from if you want CONSISTENT results, the rest can kinda fall in as they can, whichever you reach for next while the mixer's running.

The never-stray category starts off with the one arch rule: start with the butter and sugar. Start with solid or slightly softened butter and granulated sugar. Period. Add in the baking powder and vanilla and salt. Cream that until it begins to give you little peaks as it mixes.

You can add the eggs next, or the bananas, whichever you wish, and end up with adding just the plain flour at the end.

You need a "liquid component", but there are several ways that liquid component can be configured, two of which I've discussed this evening.

And, adding this in here at the end: The usual baking time for these muffins is 23 minutes at 400 degrees. BUT: with these differences in ingredient proportions, at Denmark-trained roomie's suggestion, I backed down on the temp at the end and left them in an extra few mintues. That helps avoid the "Post-Oven Shrinkage" that happens when they're not baked all the way through. So instead of biz as usual, I baked them for 20 minutes at 400, then backed it down to 325, and left them in for 6 more minutes. They turned out like I planned...no shrinkage, no sinking hole in the middle.

And please resist the temptation to jack up the amount of cinnamon and nutmeg: just the barest hint of both is exactly what you're looking for.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

ps: Right now, Groce Out has got the big honkin' 2 lb bag of chocolate chips for $6.99, which is a ridiculously good buy.

[abimee]

id love to hear ur reasons about why alphinaud should have gravitated more towards ysayle. like actually now that you say it, that would have been nice and her ideals seem like they shouldve influenced his a lot

first up is just going to be talking about how great of foils they would/were for each other with the fact that:

alphinaud was raised with a silver spoon lodged in his mouth in a country that was very isolationist and all about not helping other countries or engaging in their politics, raised by a father who spouted ''those outside of old sharlaya can go wage war and kill each other all they want and we will refuse to interfere" politics at him, which raised him to be much the same way and then try to play military with his crystal braves before getting the cloth ripped from underneath him and all of his toy soldier antics fell apart before him. because he was a kid playing war when all he knew was textbooks and debate

ysayle was raised outside of ishgard in a small community, and when a terrible blizzard befell them due to the calamity they came knocking at ishgard's door and was promptly told NO, by her OWN PEOPLE, purely because ishgard held the same ''were too busy with our own business and we refuse to help others'', which lead to her entire community, her family, dying. she nearly perished there too before she had her visions again and sought out hraevsalger in dravania and being found by marchechamp. she too would grow up to attempt to lead her own peace corp before it all fell apart with the violence of the people below her and the dragons, and her own revelation of her not being truly the saint shiva reincarnated

alphinaud was the one who told her the plan to broker peace between ishgard and dravania instead of waging a war, and this point where she goes with them couldve been an amazing bonding time for them since alphinaud's crystal braves was made in an attempt to broker peace as well in a system that only had conflict amongst each other, similar to ysayle's heretical charge, and they couldve had SO MUCH to TALK ABOUT WITH THAT ALONE! Along with the conflict of how alphinaud was a rich boy playing peacemaker in boots too big for his feet while ysayle was attempting to play peacebroker in a war she didn't fully understand, putting herself in waters deeper than she thought and nearly drowning.

sorry to estinien but compare this with what he had going on which was a very one-sided storyline about wanting revenge and catharsis, leaning him squarely in the ''ishgard is in the right here and dragons need to be eradicated'' square, sort of brushes awkwardly against alphinaud who is no longer That much of an asshole and has taken his grandfather's approach of peace for all. I also say that this doesnt mean that i dont think estinien and alphinaud's friendship is bad and i loved it a lot but i think they also try to divide alphinaud and alisaie as ''alphinaud can only have guy friends and alisaie can only have girl friends'' and they try not to let those wires cross unless its for alisiaie to have a special moment with a younger boy in a sort of motherly/older sister way (halric and ga bu, both of which are amazing).

i just think through the similarities of the two alphinaud and ysayle couldve have an interesting friendship form through heavensward, and then when ysayle sacrifices herself for the cause and dies saving ishgard it would weigh on alphinaud as sort of an ''ultimate step'' in his recovery from the crystal braves incident --- sort of asking alphinaud ''this is war, this is the reality of conflict, are you going to stay in your books and stuffy seats of old sharlaya and call out commands from the safety lines and get nothing truly done? or accept that death is always waiting at the doors of those who want to enact true change?" and have that rest on his shoulders as he continues to grow and work with the scions, sprinkle on the fact that this can call back to his own grandfather's sacrifice and how that made fourchenault feel, thus making fourchenault raise alphinaud the way he did and make him that silver spooned little kid wanting to play war when hes never actually experienced true conflict. this also wouldve been an easy way to wedge in alphinaud's coils of bahamut character growth for people who entire skipped it since even yoshi p wants to forget about coils LOL

And lets not forget the end where alphinaud rips that eye out of estinien and the ghost of ysayle lays her hands over his to help him --- ysayle is HEAVILY unremembered by MSQ compared to haurchefant, and the only person they really use to remember ysayle is the dickhead who argued with her and told her off constantly and said to her face he doesnt care if she dies. because why the fuck does estinien call her ''my lady'' when just 4 hours ago in msq he was in her face watching her cry and told her shes useless and theyre moving on from her shitty plan. i wanna beat estinien sometimes

and it was cool for endwalker to remember her, but you know who has the most amazing opportunity to carry the torth of ysayle? alphinaud

like for gods sake she was a WARRIOR OF LIGHT, she HAD HYDAELYN'S CRYSTAL and wasnt just an echo user like krile, she was the Only Other Goddamn Warrior of Light in eorzea we ever met and the story just walked on from that fact and barely remembers her. I just somebody to remember her so bad and alphinaud is the perfect kid to have that close friendship with her and carry on her memory got damn

[calicohyde]

Were one to look out one's window, if one's window had a very opportune placement, during a deep dark night in the heavy sticky midwestern heat of June, one might have the privilege and the burden to see the procession of the midsummer Witches' Mass.

Watching out one's opportune window, in the middle of that summer night when one ought to be asleep but has been woken by a sudden sense of restlessness that is an unease and a dread and an excitement and an arousal all together that cannot be separated or named, one would see an endless heretic throng of shrieking women all naked as the strange animals that guard their heels. The line of them would seem never ending, to one who simply happens to be looking, though truly they are only perhaps a hundred (at least in this city, on this night when one happened to be looking, there are only a hundred). One might stare and stare for hours, enthralled helplessly and in entirety, by the beauty that passes by one, unheeded and unmolested by anything, long after the witches had all passed.

If one were particularly astute about these sorts of eerie things, if one could bring oneself to remember that they are not dreaming, not anymore, one might blink and see the now empty street below them as it is. But even then, if one were that lucky, still they would not be able to turn away. One might, instead, no matter how desperately one might try to convince oneself not to, exit their apartment in their pajamas and creep down the stairs and out into the street still echoing with the screams of the witches that have gone.

One might, not entirely of their own volition, follow those echoes on their bare feet along the dirty black city road. And if one did that, one would soon come to the center where the territories of the four Gateway covens meet, the very heart of the city itself such that one would feel it beating and witness the witches chant and hum along to the rhythm. Those hundred witches, one would see there, rubbing into their skin a bitter-smelling paste. One would watch, discomfited and envious (oh so envious), as the witches sprinkle each other with salt, lick it from each other, trade their lime slices, improprietous, through smacking wet kisses. They would all be smeared with sweet alcohol and with lipstick all over.

One would watch, panting in fear or heat or both (probably both), that rowdy and hedonistic pit as all those naked women (seeming infinite to one who only saw from their window and unwisely followed, but still only a hundred) dance and writhe. There would be no music, but one would hear it anyway. There would be no Devil there - or maybe there would, and one would only tell oneself, over and over again as if that would make it more true, that He does not exist (but then, before tonight one did not believe witches existed either).

One would hear the witches cry out to their dead, and one would hear the witches' dead answer them. One would think to oneself how impossible that is, but unable to deny the truth of what one's own ears had heard, there would be no convincing oneself of that. One would know the voice of Rebecca Nurse and Sarah Good, and one would feel the vengeful spirits of them and their old friends come all the way from the wicked gallows of Salem to revel in the continuing indomitable life of their sisters.

Eventually the chanting would die down. There would be a bonfire, and the naked women would lay upon the ground without care to the state of it, and they would pass the bottle opener around for their beers which would sweat, chilled, into the dirt. The elder ones would sip from square glasses and survey the rest, and the younger ones would form giggling circles. There would be card games, and some would tell one's fortune if one were brave enough to ask, and some would simply tell one to go fish.

One might, if one were that sort of foolhardy and reckless person (or if one were just that horny), slowly work up the courage to go and say hello. One might take a few steps towards the Mass even, ready to prostrate oneself to these holy unholy women, to beg for- for whatever they might give, oh god anything. But one would not get very far, halted, frozen in one's tracks when an orange cat turns his head around and looks right into one's eyes.

One's breath would catch in one's throat, knowing from the look the orange cat gives that he knows they had thought of interrupting the festivities. This is a mourning celebration, after all, and not an appropriate time to profess one's desire to be possessed and enthralled and- and whatever else a Mass of witches might do to one who happened to throw oneself to the ground at their feet (anything, anything). The orange cat would lift his lip into the snarl that comes before a hiss, would show his long teeth, and one would suddenly come to one's senses.

At long last, one might run all the way home, realizing the trip is much longer than one had thought. One would run up the stairs and through the door to their apartment and throw oneself into the bed and wrap up in the covers and squeeze one's eyes shut so tight it would hurt one's face, and one would then mind one's own damn business.

That is, if one was very smart and knew what was good for them, and if the orange cat turned to look, and if his knowing glare brought one to one's senses…

So if, perhaps, one deep dark night in the heavy sticky midwestern heat of June, you are woken by a sudden sense of restlessness that is an unease and a dread and an excitement and an arousal all together, and you think you hear from your window the singing and shrieking of a Mass of drunken women…

Best not to look.

Happy Midsummer Day! © Calico Print 2017. Do not copy, repost, or redistribute. @girlfriendsofthegalaxy @haectemporasunt @jezifster @blackhannetandco @fearofahumanplanet @godsleftarmpit @littlehastyhoneydew @rainbowabomination @antihell @isherwoodj @marrowwife @ashen-crest @wildswrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer @garthcelyn @muddshadow @cohldhands @unrealistic-android @glam-pir @outpost51 Sign up to be tagged when I post about this project.

[monstrousvoice]

*drops this and skidders away*

(This would be before the events of the game)

Do you think every couple of years or so the bishops would host celebrations/festivities? stuff to do with sate, order, cure, etc etc, some respite for their followers- keep em hopeful for a little while they continue their evil bs.

And the vast majority of the time, all of them are there except Narinder, be it from him being an anti social edgelord or simply not having time for such trivial things, even with prompting from his siblings, he never attends.

Even still, the remaining four still keep a spare chair/throne for him incase he ever does decide to join them.

His frequent absence during these periods of respite ends up becoming an in-joke for those who attend, that “death does not celebrate”.

Maybe eventually they fill his seat with a potato sack dyed black with a flimsy paper crown on top of it and an angry face drawn on, god knows if he ever actually decided to attend and saw his “replacement” all hell would break loose…

Nooooo come back!! *Sprinkles little bits of cheddar across the floor to tempt you to come closer*

YES!! I think the Bishops def had various celebrations at different times of the year. Some, as you suggest, are about celebrating good things like an abundance of food, or a strain of plague finally reaching an end!

On a darker note, considering what we see in game, I do believe darker festivities were held as well. Heretics being held hostage and beaten and sacrificed as some "glorious" act of heroism and goodness. Think Salem Witch Trials kind of mentality.

As for Naridner?

I think, even if he is incredibly busy, he does want to be a part of these celebrations. He loves his siblings, he wants to be a part of their lives and spend some quality time with them.

As hilarious as it is to imagine potato sack Narinder (which someone should def draw 👀🤣) I think in reality, the siblings wouldn't even think twice about him not being there.

Narinder wanted to change, as we learn from Shamura, who says that that isn't something Death can ever achieve. He wanted to change to be like them, his siblings.

I would think it was an offhand discussion to them, most likely Shamura, where they state "Narinder, you wouldn't belong at such a festivity. Death has no place at a celebration of life after Heket's famine/Shamura's war/Kallamar's plauge, etc etc."

But for Narinder?

It's a punch in the gut. His responsibilities, his purpose, is keeping him from being able to do something as simple as attend a party being thrown for his siblings.

Who wouldn't want to change to be something more after centuries of that?

PS: And thats not even covering other aspects of life that must have influenced his desire to be something more. It's just one possibility. All we as the audience have to go off of is that Narinder felt like, pardon the expression, black sheep of the family.

He felt that he had to change the very core of his being to be more like his siblings.

[rowanisawriter]

Hi, I have some questions!!!!

6) Do you have any OCs without stories? Will you ever create one for them?

13) Which story has the most lore?

19) What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream?

25) What’s your favourite genre to write? Is it also your favourite genre to read?

(And how are you doing? 💕)

hiiiii ad thank you bestie!! 🥰

answering these writer asks!

6. any ocs without stories?

nooooo due to my very weird need to have the story before the oc, this never happens to me!! i do this all backwards, i get an idea for a story and then create the oc kind of shaped around the story?? like i never have a character, i have a place to put a character in a story and then just work the character until both they and the story are working together. so i haven’t had any like extra ocs laying around haha

13. story with the most lore

my fics are sooo canon compliant lol i don’t think i have anything that really has its own lore, maybe ceasefire?? just by virtue of being my only “sequel” although it is its own standalone story, it does still have callbacks and characters and themes dragged over from attrition…

19. story inspired by real life

probably heretic!! i wrote it because all the religious trauma in bg3 was very familiar lol and i was raised in a very conservative environment and longed to kill and replace god, so although the story is all magic and make believe, the emotions behind the decisions the characters made, their fears and everything is all very real and i used my own experiences to flesh all of that out!

25. favorite genre to read/write

ROMANCE. i love love, i really don’t want to read anything that doesn’t have any romance in it, and i don’t think i’ve ever written anything without romance, love is the point of everything anyway so why wouldn’t i want to sprinkle it in everything 🥰

(i’m doing good lol my kid is in the middle of potty training so that has been going ….. fine… lol basically i’m in complete shock people have more than one kid like how and why??? this is so awful?? i love my kid but my nerves have been completely frayed at this point and i feel like another kid would give me a nervous breakdown, when i see parents with multiple young kids like at the grocery store i legitimately feel my fight or flight kick in… i must have ptsd LOL anyway i’m doing good ever since i decided only one kid for me!!!!!)

[chouhatsumimi]

Words from Noragami, ch. 40

Words in bold are particularly relevant to the story, and words in italics seem like they’d be worth remembering outside the context of the manga. Bold and italic together means they’ve probably appeared somewhere in Noragami more than once. [Though it's been a kajillion years (okay three actual years) since I read it so I can't promise I can highlight them well anymore...]

畏, 賢, 恐, 可祝 かしこ, かしく yours sincerely, respectfully yours / Atentamente (usado para firmar en las cartas), Respetuosamente, Atentamente (usado para firmar en la cartas, Respetuosamente 存在意義 そんざいいぎ reason of being, raison d'être, meaning of one's existence 卑下 ひげ self-abasement, humility, self-depreciation 外道 げどう tirthika, non-Buddhist teachings, non-Buddhist, heterodoxy, unorthodoxy, heresy, heretic, demon, devil, fiend, brute, wretch, type of fish one did not intend to catch 分 ぶ one-tenth, one percent (one-tenth of a wari), 3 mm (one-tenth of a sun), 2.4 mm (one-tenth of a mon, a traditional unit used to measure shoe sizes), 0.1 degree (one-tenth of a do, used to measure body temperature on any temperature scale), one-quarter of a ryō (obsolete unit of currency), thickness, advantageous circumstances, one-tenth of a monme of silver 硯 すずり inkstone ���絵 まきえ gold or silver lacquer, lacquer decoration sprinkled with metal powder 道理で どうりで, どおりで indeed, it's no wonder 解す げす to understand, to comprehend 解せない げせない inscrutable, incomprehensible / incomprensible, ininteligible, impenetrable, inescrutable, insondable, raro, extraño いいようにする to do as one wishes, to act as one wills 寝落ち ねおち dozing off in the middle of doing something (esp. in an online chat or during an online game), becoming inactive due to falling asleep 剥れる, 剝れる むくれる to become angry or sullen, to take offense, to be miffed, to come unstuck from, to peel off, to come off, to be taken off 尾てい骨, 尾骶骨 びていこつ, ビテイコツ coccyx, tailbone ただ働き, タダ働き, 只働き ただばたらき, タダばたらき working without pay, free service, work for nothing

- Ch. 39 || Ch. 41 -

[westywrites]

Excerpt: Cypress Ascending

I was fiddling around with chapter two of Cypress Ascending during my breaks at camp this week, and I actually really love how this turned out, so I figured I'd share an excerpt. Warning for the death of a parent and fictional funeral rites, please don't read if that's likely to upset you!

When she knelt beside her father's deathbed, Cypress seemed to stare through the candle's light to see only the old man. No, she stared through the old shepherd to see the brilliant young scholar he once was. Scholar turned heretic turned shepherd… Perhaps she stared through even that to simply see Acacia Schyley as he was, in every way that mattered. A caring man and a loving father. Father of Cypress Schyley. 

Acacia Schyley opened his eyes one final time to gaze upon his daughter's soft face. She did not cry, and neither did he. He took her hand gently in his own. Cypress handed the lighting candle back to Pax without looking. Her small hands wrapped around her fathers' as he shook. He laid her hands on his chest and sighed.

"I go gladly into Death's warm light," said the old shepherd. 

Pax stepped forward, sprinkling ground mushroom dust around the bed, commencing the ritual to usher the old man peacefully into Yarham's realm. 

"I have embraced the four Stages of my life," said the heretic. 

"Infancy, Taphla, god of beginnings."  Pax's soft voice filled the small shack as they lit the first candle. "Adolescence, Hedaph, god of freedom." The wax from the lighting candle dripped a small trail of wax between the first candle and the second. "Adulthood, Raishadin, god of fortitude." The third candle was the largest. "Old age, Eadim, god of resolutions." The fourth and final candle lit, Pax stepped back again. 

"I forgive Life for her darkness and thank her for her lessons," said the scholar. 

"Haia, god of life, the foundation of all, thanks you for your contributions to the world." Pax's words rang out with an air of finality. "Yarham's light embraces you now."

"One last thing before I go," said Acacia Schyley. "Cypress, my darling daughter, know that I go in peace. I have only ever felt peace and wonder with you by my side. Whatever the gods have in store for you, you will blow them all away." He wrapped her small fingers around his wooden pendant. "Take this, as a reminder of all that I've taught you, and all that you've taught me." He took a shaking breath. "Cypress, you're named for the reaching trees and their deep roots. Don't you ever forget that."

"Don't leave me," Cypress said, her voice feather soft. He placed a shaking hand on her cheek.

"I love you," said a father to his daughter as he closed his eyes. "I love you more than words could describe."

Taglist: @ratracechronicler@lunewell@lady-redshield-writes If you’d like to be tagged in (admittedly infrequent) updates about this WIP - including mood boards, excerpts, and worldbuilding - please let me know, and I’ll add you to the list!

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Friday, January 12, 2024

december 31_january 12

THE HOLY MARTYR ANYSIA OF THESSALONICA (298)

The Holy Virgin Martyr Anysia lived in the city of Thessalonica during the reign of the the co-Emperor Maximian (286-305). Upon the death of her parents, who had raised her in Christian piety, Saint Anysia sold everything she owned, distributing her riches to the poor, and she began to lead a strict life of fasting, vigil, and prayer.

During his persecution against Christians, Maximian issued an edict stating that anyone had the right to kill Christians with no fear of punishment. Soon there were many bodies to be found in cities, towns, and by the roadside. Once, when Saint Anysia was on her way to church, a pagan soldier stopped her and demanded that she come along to the festival of the sun to offer sacrifice. Saint Anysia gently pulled herself away from him. When the soldier boldly grabbed her and attempted to tear the veil from her head, she shoved him, spit in his face and said, “My Lord Jesus Christ forbids you!”

In anger, the soldier ran her through with his sword. Those gathering over her body wept and loudly complained against the cruel emperor for issuing an edict that resulted in the death of many innocent people. Christians buried the martyr near the city gates, and a chapel was built over her grave.

THE NUN THEODORA OF CAESAREA (8th c.)

The Nun Theodora of Caesarea, living during the VIII Century, was the daughter of the patrician Theophilos and his wife Theodora. Her parents for a long time had been childless, and grieved over this. They prayed much and made a vow, that if a child were born to them, it would be dedicated to God. When the daughter born to them was of age, her mother took her to the monastery of Saint Anna, where the maiden entered under the guidance of an hegumeness. And there she learned the Word of God.       The emperor Leo the Isaurian (716-741), an iconoclast heretic, wanted to give the maiden Theodora into marriage to one of his aides. Against her will they took her from the monastery and brought her to Constantinople, where everything was already prepared for the wedding celebration. But at the time of the wedding feast there occurred an attack by the Skyths against the capital, and the spouse of Saint Theodora, dispatched to help beat back the attack of the enemy, perished in the very first skirmish. Taking advantage of the general confusion, Saint Theodora made herself inconspicuous, got on a ship and returned to her convent. When an imperial emissary showed up there for her, he saw that she was already tonsured a monastic, dressed in sackcloth. They thus could no longer force the saint to leave the women's monastery, and she spent the remaining years of her life in deeds of vigil, fasting and prayer. Upon her body she wore heavy iron chains, not removing them until death.

© 1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.

1 PETER 1:1-2, 10-12; 2:6-10

1 Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, To the pilgrims of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 2 elect according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace be multiplied. 10 Of this salvation the prophets have inquired and searched carefully, who prophesied of the grace that would come to you, 11 searching what, or what manner of time, the Spirit of Christ who was in them was indicating when He testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow. 12 To them it was revealed that, not to themselves, but to us they were ministering the things which now have been reported to you through those who have preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven-things which angels desire to look into.

6 Therefore it is also contained in the Scripture, "Behold, I lay in Zion a chief cornerstone, elect, precious, and he who believes on Him will by no means be put to shame." 7 Therefore, to you who believe, He is precious; but to those who are disobedient, "The stone which the builders rejected Has become the chief cornerstone," 8 and "A stone of stumbling and a rock of offense." They stumble, being disobedient to the word, to which they also were appointed. 9 But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; 10 who once were not a people but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy.

JOHN 10:9-16

9 I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. 10 The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. 11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep. 12But a hireling, he who is not the shepherd, one who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees; and the wolf catches the sheep and scatters them. 13 The hireling flees because he is a hireling and does not care about the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own. 15 As the Father knows Me, even so I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep.