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loquaciousquark · 4 months

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Cazador's Ritual Runes, Translated

Inner: AMPLIFY + HIM + FLOW + EMPOWR [sic] Middle: WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE Outer: WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD [sic]

Mephistopheles can't spell for beans.

(Detailed analysis & conjecture regarding this text, the Rite of Profane Ascension, & Astarion's translated scars under the cut.)

The second ring was the easiest, as the characters are very similar to Latin letters and clearly read out "WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE." Characters were now known for C, E, F, H, I, L, O, R, T, and W. It wasn't clear yet if there were cases.

I was struggling with the first ring, though after decoding the second, I could get a likely "_M_LIF_ + _IM + _LOW + EM_OWR". Guessing the character for P, Y, and A based on context gave me "AMPLIFY + _IM + _LOW + EMPOWR", but I had doubts over the first characters for words two and three. I suspected they would be HIM and FLOW, but the H and F characters didn't match the H from the second ring's "THE" or the F from "AMPLIFY". Also, "empower" was misspelled, which made me pause.

Abandoning those for a moment, the third ring mapped well onto "WE _ATHER HERE TO I__O_E THE _OWER OF _LO_". Ruling out known letters which were not present, I could guess "WE GATHER HERE TO I__O_E THE POWER OF _LO_", but again the P from "POWER" was not the same as the P from "AMPLIFY" in the inner ring. However, it was very, very similar, and nothing else fit, so I committed, now suspecting there were capital versions of some letters included in the text.

At this point I went digging for resources. I found a copy of an Infernal alphabet on the Forgotten Realms wiki, and while it looks like the typeface Larian used is a bespoke creation for the game rather than a 1:1 copy of this alphabet, the letters for lowercase G, N, K, B, and D were nearly identical. Y (from AMPLIFY) also matched perfectly, confirming that earlier guess. This gave a clear "WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD."

This resulted in: AMPLIFY + _IM + _LOW + EMPOWR WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD

Looking at the wiki for capital letters, the only ones I could find which might reasonably fit the _IM missing character (assuming the Larian alphabet was based off this wiki typography) were A, B, H, O, T, V, and Y. Of those choices, only AIM, HIM, TIM, and VIM were words, and as cheesy as Cazador is, I couldn't imagine him saying AMPLIFY TIM FLOW EMPOWR. Given the alternatives, HIM was the only choice which made sense.

I went through the same process for _LOW, but this character seems unmatchable to me. By far it looks the most like the E from the Infernal alphabet, with maybe a capital Y being a distant second. However, ELOW and YLOW are certainly not words, and absent all other comparatives, the character in question does resemble a fancy F. Barring other languages, FLOW with a capital or unique F fits best.

AMPLIFY + HIM + FLOW + EMPOWR WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD

I did double-check the texts available in Cazador's mansion just to make sure this hadn't been translated elsewhere (after I'd done all the work, of course), and the only written text of relevance is from the Black Mass scroll you find near Vellioth's skull. It reads:

The Rite of Profane Ascension Oh, piteous dead! Oh, ravenous dead! Immortality is your gift, but darkness is your prison and hunger its gaoler. The Rite of Profane Ascension will release you. Walk in the sun. Suffer not from hunger. Grow your power beyond anything you imagined. A pact has been made with the Lord of Hellfire. Deliver unto him seven thousand souls, each bearing an Infernal mark, and you shall be free of your chains. You shall know true power. Deliver the souls. Speak the words. Ecce dominus, Has animas offero in sacrificio, Nunc volo potestatem quam pollicitus es mihi.

The Latin translates (as best I can tell with my incredibly weak Latin) to:

Behold [the] Lord, I offer these souls in sacrifice, I want the power thou hast promised me.

Which is interesting, but not clearly mapped to the Infernal above. Then I started wondering what relationship Astarion's scars have with all this, but thankfully, someone else has done the work here!

Astarion's scars have been transcribed and translated in a wonderfully detailed Reddit post by northpaw_s in 2020, but the salient points are that they appear to be in a mishmash of mangled Latin and Romance languages ("Infernal") and read:

Hoyc inferiu non iurare per igneu Naec virba loquor Eoai mundo muoat

Which appears to roughly translate to:

This soul swears no oath by fire Nor words does he speak In the realm of death

This makes sense if it's a fragment of a contract. I suspect the other spawn's scars are all identical to Astarion's for game mechanics/development reasons, but it'd be wild if they did have minor differences to complete the rest of the phrases! I know the scars don't show on their backs they way they do on Astarion's outside of the moment of the ritual, but it really does make me wonder if there's a complete text of the poem in some writer's documentation somewhere.

Anyway, what did you do with your Thursday night?

#astarion #cazador #no wonder the rite was so secretive mephistopheles didn't want anyone to know he's a terrible speller #baldur's gate 3 #plus a lot of talk about astarion's scars' meaning & the rite's text #puzzles! neat!#i don't know what to tag this so i'll be able to find it again #quark plays bg3 #quark rambles #each phrase is repeated three times on each ring by the by

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forlorn-crows · 2 months

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And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?”

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back.

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer.

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.”

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers.

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack.

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually.

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow.

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply.

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable.

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this).

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul.

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.”

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?”

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs.

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat. “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters.

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south.

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now.

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft.

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply.

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue.

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers.

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more.

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other.

“F-fuck,” he stutters.

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?”

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants.

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments.

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll.

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?”

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes:

“May I?”

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards.

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit.

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand.

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human.

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them.

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle.

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum.

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.”

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture.

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that.

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke.

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by.

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans.

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly.

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his.

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is.

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs.

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in.

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled.

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t.

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch.

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is.

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one.

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x dewdrop #dewdrop x copia #papa x dewdrop #dewdrop x papa #copia/dewdrop #dewdrop/copia #papa/dewdrop #dewdrop/papa #CORRECTLY translated italian #dews gonna go back to the dorms and theyre gonna smell copia on him and then EVERYONES gonna want him

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helaelaemond · 8 months

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To See God

Pairing: Osferth x female reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You met Osferth in the tavern last night and eventually he took you to his room. He didn't kiss you, he barely touched you, but he looked at you all night like he never wanted anybody more. You wake up in his bed to find him watching you between turning pages of his book. You need him to give in to his desires - and he does. Look up Song of Solomon 7:1-2, 6-12 for the translation of what Osferth is seducing you with in Latin. Cunnilingus, penetrative sex.

Content warning(s): erotic Bible study, first time together, misuse of the Song of Solomon

Rating: E

Requests open

Thank you @arcielee for your help with Osferth <3

The sun is coming through the window in a dreamy haze, and you slowly feel yourself returning from sleep. Under your head is a soft feather pillow, and over your body are warm blankets of wool and fur. It's a strange bed that you've not been in before, and it takes a moment for you to remember where you are.

"Good morning, my lady."

In front of the window, your new friend sits with a book in his lap, and a gentle smile on his face.

"You need not call me that, Osferth," you say sleepily, rubbing your eyes. "I am no lady."

"You are a fine lady to me." He turns the page of his book, and bites his lip as he smiles at you. There is that look in his eye that was there last night - like he wants to see you, to touch you. And God knows you want to touch him. When you had tried to push his leather tunic off last night, he had stopped you with such a pained expression that you wanted to run and hide - until he told you that he wanted to, but that he shouldn't. That he should like to know you better.

And so you stayed up talking long into the night. You lay down by his side and he allowed you to gently touch his face. He had closed his eyes when you did. He told you his name, his father's name, his life as a king's bastard. A no one, he said, until he came to Uhtred's service. You told him of your life, of the loss of your land and your search for a new home in a new place, and he had listened. He had really listened. That had meant more than any kiss.

But now you have woken with a hunger. There is heat between your legs just from the way he's looking at you.

"What are you reading?" you ask. You nestle down into the warm bed and watch how his long fingers run along the edge of it.

"Quid videbis in Sulamiten nisi choros castrorum quam pulchri sunt gressus tui in calciamentis filia principis iunctura feminum tuorum sicut monilia quae fabricata sunt manu artificis." His voice is warm and soft, just like his bed. You don't understand many words at all, but the tempo of the Latin is familiar to you. You notice his cheeks begin to flush as he reads. "Duo ubera tua sicut duo hinuli gemelli capreae."

"What does it mean?" you ask.

"It's, er..." He trails off, and he grips the book so hard his knuckles turn white. "It's from the Song of Solomon."

"I don't know that part of the Bible very well," you admit. "Will you show me?"

Osferth hesitates, as if held back by a great secret that he cannot bear to face, but then he smiles and gets up. He sits on the bed next to you, and puts the book between you. The words mean nothing to you on the page - no one in your family could read, and you can't. Still. It looks pretty, and you run your finger down the lines that are a mystery to you. "Read some more for me?"

"Perhaps something else, my-"

"I like the sound of this, Osferth."

There is something very satisfying in the way his face softens when you say his name. He nods. "Alright. Ah, where was I? Quam pulchra es et quam decora carissima in deliciis."

"In deliciis," you repeat slowly, smiling. "Delicious?"

He chuckles. "Almost. Delights."

"Oh, you're reading about delights? What kind of delights?"

He shifts slightly, and glances at you. You smile encouragingly. You move closer to him and run your hand further down the page until it rests next to his. If you concentrate, you can feel the heat rolling off his hand, and you can almost imagine what it's like to touch his skin. It makes breathing a little more difficult.

"About delights of... of a... oh, I shouldn't be reading this."

"Why not? Is it not part of the Holy Book?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then is it not divine, what you speak of?"

He smiles and looks down. His hand moves up the edge of the book slightly, and the tip of his forefinger touches yours. It is the smallest touch, yet suddenly it feels like the centre of everything. The whole world exists where your hand touches his.

"Yes," he breathes. His smile is frozen, and the rest of him seems to be, too. "I suppose it is."

"Osferth."

"My lady?"

"What does it mean?"

The breath he lets out is shaky. He turns his head to look at you, and you're all too aware of how close you are now. You want him so badly you could weep. He is so gentle, so sweet, and behind his soft gaze is a passion that you can see burn in him. He bites his lip, and his eyes drop to your mouth. "How fair and pleasant art thou, o love, for delights."

Hesitantly, he moves his finger over yours, and then his hand covers yours and turns it over. With such a delicate touch, he strokes gentle patterns onto your palm, and it's almost impossible to think of anything else. You scarcely recall how to breathe. "Is the writer talking of the Lord?"

Osferth tilts his head slightly and leans closer. You can taste his breath on your lips, you can feel the warmth of his body in what little distance remains between you. "No," he murmurs. "Of his lover."

"I didn't know they talked about that in the Bible." Your eyes close. Fire has ripped through you. You burn for him, for him, for him.

"I think it's in a woman that man can see the true face of God."

"You believe women hold that power?" You curl your fingers around his, and when he intertwines them, a soft sigh escapes you.

"I think you might, my lady."

His name is a prayer on your lips. "Osferth."

The first kiss he leaves on your skin is against your cheek. His lips are warm, gentle, undemanding. You have been kissed on the cheek before, but it never felt like this. Your head drops to the side in a silent invitation and it is one that he takes. He moves his mouth along your jaw, finding its place on your neck, and he lets go of your hand only to sweep your hair from your shoulder. When his kisses trail up to your ear, you let out a soft sigh again.

"My lady," he breathes against it. "I... don't know how to ask..."

You turn your head and open your eyes just enough to see him. Pretty is his face, shining are his eyes. You are so close that you can see every little freckle, every long eyelash; how wonderful he is to behold. And he is practically begging. "Just say the words."

"My lady, might we... can we...?"

"Say it. Please?"

Another kiss is pressed to your cheek and this time you can feel the way he smiles, and he asks quietly, "can we be together?"

There are barely enough wits left to you to tease him, but you try. "Are we not together now?"

He chuckles lowly. "I want to share... I want to worship you with my body, my lady."

A noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh escapes you, and you turn your head blindly in search for him. After what feels like a lifetime, he grants you his kiss on your lips; the world ceases to exist.

It is all you have been yearning for, this kiss from Osferth. His thin lips press against yours and he parts them, gently slipping his tongue against yours. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your waist, and you run your fingers along his sharp jaw. He shifts closer at your touch, and the kiss deepens. Quiet noises sound in the back of his throat, indications of his scarcely-held back need. When you pull his lower lip between yours and suck for a moment, his fingers dig into your waist.

Between you, the Bible is almost knocked to the floor and he starts. Abruptly, he pulls away and grabs it before it can fall from the bed, and he takes it carefully into his hands. "One moment."

You watch as he walks with it back to his window seat, and it makes you smile to see the care with which he rests it on the bench. There is a reverence in everything that he does. Even when he looks back at you with wanton need, there is a devotion in his face. It makes you blush; it makes you feel your heartbeat between your legs.

"Wait," you say quietly when he steps towards you again. His brow furrows in slight confusion, but you smile reassuringly. "It's alright. Just... wait."

You are still in your clothes from last night: a simple linen dress, copper in colour underneath a grey cover. Loose ties hold them closed - until suddenly they don't. Kneeling on Osferth's bed, you loosen the garments and one by one, you take them off, until you are bare in the morning light.

He looks at you like a man at prayer, full of wonder and awe. "I... you... oh, my-"

"Osferth," you soothe softly. "I would see you. Please?"

There is only a moment's hesitation before he follows your lead. You watch with tension in your belly as he pulls off his long wool habit, and it's just a linen shift beneath. There are hints of his lean body beneath, but when he removes that, too, you realise how little your imagination could do him justice.

Years with the great Uhtred have hardened his lithe body, and though his skin is pale, his muscles are defined, and you can see the shadows they cast across his skin. He stands a little self-consciously for a moment, hands clasped in front of him, but then you hold out your own hand in a silent call, and he comes with a smile. He holds your hand and you admire him for a moment, from his deep eyes to his half-hard cock that presses against his thigh, to the thick hair on his head.

"You're beautiful," you whisper. That makes him blush deeper than anything else before.

"I am nothing compared to you."

"No," you reply. You pull him closer, and he stands in front of the bed where you kneel. It almost makes you the same height as him like this. "There is no need for comparison, Osferth. You are beautiful."

For a moment, he hesitates. But then his face breaks into a smile wider than any he's shown you before. "I meant what I said, my lady. I would... I would worship you, if you allow it."

You look him in the eye as you take his hand and you press it between your legs. His eyes darken when he feels how wet and warm you are. "Allow it?" you echo quietly. "Osferth, feel how desperately I need you. It is not a question of allowing."

After you let go of his hand, his fingers slowly caress your folds, gently pressing just enough to make your thighs tense slightly. "Is it a question of anything?"

You swallow and shake your head. "There is no question at all. I need you. Please."

That is the final drop that makes the dam break. Whatever resolve in him was left to be slow and steady is lost, and suddenly his kiss is deep. His mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that is possessive, adoring, desperate. His teeth clink against yours before his tongue presses into your mouth, and then suddenly he draws yours into his and sucks needily. You scarcely have time to moan in delight before he presses you to lie back on the bed.

You had expected that you would need to guide him through this, for he seems so reserved. After all, he spent all of last night ensuring there was proper distance between you. Yet now he needs you, but he needs no direction. In a strong grip, he pins your hands above your head, and then his tongue is licking a long line from your jaw down to your chest. You can't keep your hands up for long, and the moment he sinks his lips over your breast, they are in his hair.

"Oh!"

He sucks on your nipple and swirls his tongue around it as long fingers find its twin, tweaking and teasing it in rhythm with his mouth.

"Osferth!"

He looks up when you sigh his name, and you meet his gaze. It is impossible to understand how good it feels to look down and meet his eyes with your breast in his mouth. When he realses it, you let out a soft whine of frustration, but it is only so he can lavish attention on your other breast. He works your nipple perfectly and it makes your eyes roll back into your head, it's so good.

When you rake your fingers over his scalp, his groans, and you can feel the vibrations in your ribs. You do it again, and so does he. Where on God's green Earth has a fallen monk learned what women like?

As if he can hear your thoughts, his attention turns south. Hot kisses lead him from the slopes of your chest and down your stomach, marking him as yours at every inch. Fingers find their way back to your cunt, and he runs them back and forth over your folds. With a light touch, he even carefully scrapes his nails, and you squirm at the contact. It's nowhere near enough to hurt - just enough to promise.

"I want to..."

He is kneeling between your legs now, and his cock is flushed and hard against his stomach. You mouth waters at the thought of what you want to do to it, but his fingers are pressing against your core and there aren't enough sensible words left in your head to ask.

"I want to kiss you here," he finishes breathlessly. There is a lovely flush over his chest and up his neck.

"Where?" you pant. As if you don't know.

He pushes his fingers against your wet cunt and drags them up to your clit, a spot that lovers in the past have never really cared to find. Yet he runs circles around it like it's nothing. It makes your spine curl. "Here."

"Please!"

He sinks to the floor and pulls you by the legs to the edge of the mattress so they're hanging off, and he kneels in front of you. You feel so exposed and so bare like this, but it's good, it's so good, because he's here and he's taking care of you and-

"Oh, God!"

His lips are hungry against you. He kisses and nips and sucks with more eagerness than he had at your breast, and he searches to find a rhythm that makes you sigh. When two fingers press inside of you, you grant him noises of delight, and you tilt your hips up slightly. Yes, there, just there, you think.

His other hand rushes up your body and finds one of your nipples again, and you groan. He quickly teases it between two fingers, and then rolls it gently between his finger and thumb, all while the other hand fucks you steadily, and his mouth devours you.

You have barely had a chance to even touch him by the time your first orgasm comes crashing over you. It's sudden and overwhelming, and you cry out his name, God's name, again and again. Your voice is strained and high and you gasp for breath, and without thinking, you pull his hand up and take his fingers into his mouth to suck.

When you look down at him, he is gazing back at you, and his lips and chin and cheeks are wet. He's panting, too.

"Take me," you beg around his fingers, nodding. If he doesn't fill you with his cock soon, you will sob. He is hesitant until you suck on his fingers again, and then his resolve is once more broken. With one hand guiding him in, he sinks slowly into you until his pelvis presses against your slick body.

He is less giving with his noises than you are. "Oh-"

"Louder," you beg. "Let me hear you, Osferth."

Breathlessly, he laughs. He is standing at the foot of the bed now, looming over you like a long-forgotten god claiming his prize. He leans down as he sets a steady pace, and he kisses you. You taste the rich saltiness of yourself on his tongue, and it makes you moan again. He presses his tongue deep into your mouth, as his cock does the same in your cunt. He's claiming you, worshipping you.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks between rough kisses.

"No," you reassure him, and your legs wrap around his waist to illustrate how much it doesn't hurt. "It's good. You feel so good, Osferth."

He smiles. It seems that even when he's fucking you, it's the tender words you offer him that make him blush the deepest. When he arches down to suck on your nipple again, his soft hair falls over his face and brushes your skin. It feels so good. You grasp his arms to try to ground yourself, but you're too far gone.

"Ah, my lady, I-"

"Yes, don't stop!"

"I can't, I'm- I'm-!"

Pleasure is quickly mounting in you as his thrusts get sharper and faster and they make you shake on the bed.

"Your hand!" you beg him, and he needs no further instruction than that. Where his mouth had found a sacrament, his hand now returns. He rubs circles around your clit as he fucks you harder and quicker. His face is tight with the effort, his gasps heavy with every short breath. "Osferth!"

You come crashing a second time, this time around his pretty cock, and every muscle in your body feels like it's spasming. Even as you fly high, you feel him pull out, and he doubles over the bed. Through half-closed eyes, you watch as he fucks his hand faster than he could ever fuck you, and whether it's the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, or it's the sight of him touching himself, you shiver and twitch. With his eyes fixed on your chest, he spills onto the bedsheets. His mouth is open in a silent shout, and his eyes squeeze shut.

Only when the hot, white ribbons have stopped leaking from his cock does Osferth finally let himself go. You watch as he pants and runs his hand over his balls, massaging what is left of the tension away. You smile slightly, and hold out your hand for him.

"My sweet, come lay with me."

He avoids your gaze, and as he straightens up, he looks around. "Forgive me, my lady, I must-"

He hurries to a chest of clothes and strips of cloth, and he begins wiping himself clean. You watch without the capability to have much thought about it, as you're still reeling from the orgasms he gave you. Osferth pulls his linen under-tunic back on, and part of you mourns the loss of the sight of him.

"Osferth?"

He doesn't look at you, and instead he bustles around the room doing... well, you're not sure what.

"Osferth!" Your shout makes him look at you with a start, but you're smiling. You hold out your hand to call him back to you. "Come here. Please?"

"I must-'"

"You must lay down with me, and you must hold me."

There is some tension in his face, but you still smile and beckon him over.

"Don't hide from me," you say quietly when at last he takes his place next to you. You smooth away the worry lines from his forehead with a tender touch. "Why do you try?"

He swallows. "I do not mean to. It is... guilt, perhaps."

"Why do you feel guilty, Osferth?"

"For many reasons, but I'm trying not to."

You smile, and as you stroke his hair, he begins to relax against you. "Did you see Him?"

"See who?"

"The face of God, like you said?"

Osferth smiles widely, and buries his face into your neck. "Yes, my lady, I did. I saw Him in you. And when you cried my name, I think that was Heaven itself."

"In deliciis," you murmur, threading your hand through his hair.

He chuckles quietly again. "In delight, my lady. My delight."

#osferth x reader #osferth x ofc #osferth x female reader #osferth x y/n #osferth x you #osferth x oc #ewan mitchell #tlk fanfic #mine #heheheheeehhe this was fun #mine pwp

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everydayyoulovemeless · 3 months

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I just saw the arcade post and pleaaasee can we get more? Something like arcade reacting to couriers that can speak Latin/or all of the companions reacting to someone that can speak Latin. Ty!

FNV Companions Reacting to a Courier That Speaks Latin

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic

Boone will actually pull a gun on you when you say something within his earshot. Even if it was some off-comment thing that some scholar said years ago. He associates the language with the Legion, so you'll have to very quickly explain yourself before he pulls the trigger on you. He'll hesitantly put the gun back down when you do, muttering an apology as he does so. He does feel bad about jumping the gun on you so fast, but you have to understand that it's a knee-jerk reaction from all his years working with the NCR and fighting Legionaries. He doesn't think he'll ever see the language the same way again. It only brings back bad memories, and he'll probably ask if you didn't speak it as much around him. If nothing else, then for his own sanity.

Arcade is... caught off guard? You're either from some sort of Legion territory or, you're a Follower he's never heard about, and he's terrified of it being the latter. He'll be very interested in talking to you further despite his lingering concerns. If you've learned Latin, you probably know many other things, and he'd love to find out how far your knowledge truly goes. He wants to pick your brain apart and see what's hiding underneath and would be glad, ecstatic even, to follow along with you, just to see where it'd take him. It's not every day he meets someone else who has similar interests to his own.

Raul doesn't really care, he just thinks it's neat. Not many wastelanders he meets are educated enough to be able to speak another language, and he's impressed that you managed to accomplish such a feat. Although, he does wish it could've been Spanish instead of a dead language only the slavers speak. He'll give you shit for it, but he's impressed nonetheless.

Lily doesn't understand a word you're saying and just assumes her schizophrenia is acting up again. That being said, she mostly just shrugs her shoulders and nods. She might not know what's happening, but she's sure that she'd probably agree with whatever you're saying.

Cass just rolls her eyes when she first hears you talking. Of course, she's traveling with a nerd. Don't take it the wrong way, she's not trying to be mean, but what is knowing Latin going to do you in the Mojave? Anyone who still speaks it also speaks English, so it's pretty much useless. All that time you spent studying the language could've been spent doing... well, anything else, and she thinks you're a little stupid for not considering that beforehand. It's not a deal breaker for her, she'll still travel with you, but she's definitely not as impressed as some of the others would be.

Veronica's more confused than anything. They don't speak that back at Hidden Valley, and she hasn't exactly heard the best things about the people familiar with the language. That's not to say she isn't interested in learning more about you or where you even learned to speak it. She's out here specifically to learn more about others, and you seem to be a good start. She'd even be willing to learn a few phrases from you. She's caught off guard but not entirely turned off by the idea.

ED-E will just beep back. You can't fully understand him, and he can't fully understand you. He sees this as a perfectly balanced relationship. Although a few others in the Divide also speak that language, and lucky for you, he remembers where they are. So, he has no issues guiding you straight toward them. Maybe you could be friends!

Rex is more attentive to your orders. His memories from before being The King's dog are a bit foggy but, when he hears you speak Latin, there's a part of him that remembers those words. Or, at least, the tone. Ceasar spoke a lot of Latin to him when he was under his care, and he may inadvertently associate you with the image he formerly had of him: powerful and demanding. He'll be sure to follow your orders thoroughly.

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wonhosmistress · 4 months

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J. Wooyoung (Latino-Coded)

Jung Wooyoung x Latin(e)afab!reader / fluff

A/N: (I wish I had this idea during Hispanic Heritage Month it would've been nice to have posted this during that time but yeah I felt like writing Latino-coded Wooyoung 🤭)

Don’t mind me adding Mexican icons for this pretend their are your countries, I did a self-insert because I’m Mexican pls don’t take it to heart

Wooyoung the boyfriend that will always get up and dance with you whenever one of your favorite artist(s) comes up on a playlist and while he won’t exactly know how to dance said song he will be a lil’ goof and just go along with your steps. Even if it just means dancing around like a silly little goofball which only means he’s having fun.

Wooyoung the boyfriend who’d be willing to try new foods from your native home be it, (Mexico, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Colombia, etc) and give your favorite foods a taste. When he ends up liking it, he steals your plate rather than eating what he ordered.

Wooyoung the boyfriend you’d invite to a club with friends and the type who’d pull you towards him to dance with you be it silly dancing or following your lead to teach him your moves.

Wooyoung the boyfriend who would put in the effort whenever you’d taught him simple words such as “hi”, “nice to meet you.”, or even “you look sexy” in your native language because he wanted to improve his Spanish it to just learn a new language, talk dirty to you, and impress your friends/family with his Spanish. You’d always giggle whenever he said certain words with Korean pronunciation because Korean and Spanish were a bit similar if you really thought about it.

Wooyoung the boyfriend that doesn’t mind assisting you in the kitchen not because he wants to help but rather steal pieces of cooked meat you made for y’all to eat at for lunch. Which only ends up in him asking questions like, “what’s that?”, “that looks odd.”, “what does that do to the food?” And while you appreciate him wanting to learn, you just want him to stop questioning you and the ingredients only to have him kicked out the kitchen.

#jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fluff

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siriusblack-the-third · 5 months

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ok, any headcanons on james that compliment the ones you've done for sirius?

i absolutely loved those and i'm really curious about james

HELL YEAH LETS GO

ADHD. This dude has to be moving, fidgeting, doing something, always. It tires him, and he sleeps very soundly for a full seven hours. Doesn't wake up even for earthquakes (Sirius once did a mini earthquake spell on the dorm room floor in the middle of the night as a prank. It did not wake him.)

Wakes up at an ungodly fucking hour. He doesn't own an alarm clock (it has no effect on him), but his internal clock is set to wake him up at exactly 4:30 in the morning for quidditch practice. He is done with jogging through the entire castle, half an hour of yoga, and an hour of quidditch before 7 A.M. rolls around. Sirius calls him "a demon from muggle hell" for it.

The only one who can keep up with Sirius' intelligence. He is scarily smart, but because most of his time is invested in quidditch and pranks, nobody realises just how smart he is until the results are handed out and he's right there next to Sirius on the top of the rankings. Both of them are always exchanging ranks 1 and 2 on overall performance. It annoys Snape and Lily to no end, because those two are always exchanging ranks 3 and 4 on the list.

The definition of Reckless. If Sirius hadn't stopped him, he would probably have turned the castle to rubble in less than five minutes. This was the exact reason why people (who were in the know) were surprised when Sirius was the one that sent Snape to Moony. They had all thought it would be James' fault.

A fucking bookworm. My dude reads literally everything from mystery to romance to encyclopaedias to research papers to fucking dictionaries of different languages. Even when he doesn't speak the language, the weirdo (affectionate and derogatory).

Indian. Specifically, from Pune city, Maharashtra.

About languages, he's learnt a lot of them. The order of learning of languages, starting from his native tongue, is thus: Marathi, Sanskrit, Hindi, English, Ancient Greek, Tamil, French and Latin. He learnt the first six at home, and French and Latin from Sirius. He's good with languages.

Photographic memory. The reason he never has to study, and also the fact that he understands everything he reads on the first try.

He and Sirius both have twelve OWLs and eight NEWTs. They have Outstandings in all of them.

My dude has the widest, largest doe eyes possible. The only people who can withstand them for more than two minutes are his parents and Sirius.

Bharatanatyam dancer. Has his Visharad certificate, and genuinely enjoys dancing. Gives at least three evenings per week for dance practice to keep up his muscle memory.

Doesn't actually hate Slytherins. Neither does Sirius. Both of them have several friends from the house of Serpents, they just hate the ones that actively use Dark Magic on muggleborns, and Snape and his gang are a part of that.

Lmao the sheer arrogance in him, oh my fucking Gods—

Doesn't give a shit about the rules set by other people (unless they're set by his parents), but has a set of rules for himself that he strictly follows. No one can tell what these rules are, but he has them and he follows them. At the top of that list, there is "never betray your loved ones". He followed that one until his death.

Nevertheless, he will break every single rule. Every. Single. Rule. For Sirius. For Sirius, he will do anything, from taking care of him when he's sick to burning the world for him.

The Hat would actually have put him in Slytherin, except he had no ambitions except to cause chaos at the tiny age of eleven years. Otherwise, he's almost a perfect fit for Slytherin— determined, strong willed, cunning enough to pull difficult pranks, resourceful (because how else you gon plan epic pranks?)

He went to Gryffindor for three reasons and three reasons only: Sirius was there, he had no particular ambition, he wanted to be with Sirius.

M O T H E R H E N. Such a mother hen, but only for a select few people (the marauders, Lily, and Harry). He doesn't give a fuck about anyone else, but these are my people and if I weren't here they would literally get themselves killed put of household related incompetence how are you still alive by the Gods—

Follows ancient Vedic religion (because I do hehe)

Very very panromantic. Demisexual.

Had a crush on Sirius for a short while in fourth year, and then on Frank Longbottom in sixth year after he had one (1) glance at the older boy dressed in full Auror robes.

Loved his mother so much omg he was such a Mama's boyyy

Gave shit to Remus for looking like a professor at the tender age of fifteen, but wanted to become a Transfiguration Professor himself. He was also excellent at Potions (another reason Snape hated him) but decided ultimately that Transfiguration was his calling

Was in his last year of his Transfiguration Mastery on Samhain of 81.

Died with a Killing Curse on his lips. He was ready to cast it wandlessly, for his wife and child. Died with a Killing Curse on his lips.

#james potter #james potter headcanon #indian james potter #maharashtrian james potter #harry potter marauders #harry potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #harry potter #marauders headcanon #marauders headcanons #marauders #marauders era

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elen-benfelen · 2 months

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welsh remus guide pt.3

Third Lesson

Right then, lads. It’s alphabet time.

Often, when looking at Welsh place names, it can seem confusing and overwhelming for anyone who is unfamiliar with Welsh. Sometimes, the confusion comes from not realising that the names are in Welsh.

Visually, we use the Latin alphabet and so it’s easy to make the assumption that the Welsh alphabet is exactly the same as the English.

It is not, my dudes.

To begin with, the following letters do not exist:

K, Q, V, X, Z

Secondly, these are the vowels:

A, E, I, O, U, W, Y

(Occasionally H is also a vowel but I couldn’t tell you when or why??? I usually go off of vibes)

Next, are the double letters. They count to us as single letters and each make a unique sound:

CH, DD, FF, NG, LL, PH, RH, TH

NG as in thiNG

PH as in PHil

FF as in Fun

RH as in RHiannon

TH as in THat

Now comes the uh, more complicated sounds.

For those familiar with German words such as Nacht or the name Brecht, the Welsh CH is that same sound.

CH as in naCHt

DD is like a harder TH sound. It is NOT a D sound.

LL sounds like hissing. I genuinely don’t know how else to explain this. It straight up does not exist in majority of languages but there are some out there with the same sound (sometimes shown with a different letter).

To hear it and learn more here’s a better explanation.

This is a really fun video on the different accents but someone mentions the town Llanelli so it’s also a good example of the LL sound.

youtube

And so in full we have:

A. B. C. CH. D. DD. E. F. FF.

G. NG. H. I. J. L. LL. M. N. O.

P. PH. R. RH. S. T. TH. U. W. Y.

There’s no K because the C is always a hard C sound.

There’s no V because a single F is always a hard V sound.

J is a modern addition to help us with new modern words we’ve loaned from English. Such as Joke becoming Jôc.

G is always a hard guttural G sound.

Despite misconceptions, Welsh is actually vowel heavy and we tend to stretch vowels. If a letter has a little roof on it, like “ô” or “ŵ” then it’s an extended/longer sound.

This means, when speaking English, our vowels are more likely to be elongated.

Similar to the “r” in Spanish, the Welsh “r” is rolled and therefore many will still roll their Rs when speaking English.

For a reason I have yet to discover, despite H being perfectly clear and pronounced when speaking in Welsh, when we speak English, a lot of areas have a habit of dropping the H sound.

“Here” becomes “Ere” or “Yere”

I am guilty of this. Why do I do this? I genuinely can’t tell you.

For the reasons above, the following words sound stupidly similar to each other:

Ear

Year

Here

Hear

As with any language, understanding the basic sounds helps you understand the core of the accent.

In terms of character dynamics, I would take note that the “CH” and “LL” sounds along with our supposed “lack of vowels” is usually what the language is mocked for. Usually by English folk but other folks, including non-Welsh speaking Welsh folks are perfectly guilty of this mocking.

Fun fact: I didn’t realise W and Y weren’t vowels in the English language when I was a small child. So I really didn’t get why they thought there wasn’t any vowels in our place names.

Another thing to note is that the Welsh language and accents are very up and down. It’s not usually flat or monotone. A lot of people also describe them as melodic. Sing-songy even.

Colourful alphabet video with BSL

Shorter alphabet video

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

pt.4

#wHeRe ArE tHe VoWeLs? up ur bloody arse if ur not fuckin’ careful cariad #apologies for the violence <3 i possibly have some pent up rage on the topic of vowels lmao #welsh remus lupin #welsh remus #welsh language #wales #welsh #cymraeg #cymru #language #alphabet #marauders era #the marauders #wolfstar #sirius black #lily evans #james potter #hp marauders #Youtube

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spooky4u · 1 year

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Spooky Month Lore! AGAIN!

Oh yeah, we're doing this again. For those not in the know, last year I did a basic summary of an ARG that was taking place last spooky month. And this year? I'm doing it again! So, strap in folks, because it's more complicated than last time. And like last time, spoilers for Spooky Month 5.

Alright, so at 3:48 on the last Spooky Month, the TV static hid a familiar looking pattern.

Here we go again. Scanning this code brings you to this image.

Now this image is blurry as all hell, so to change that you got to look at the URL and see that it's a '.webp' image. changing the URL so that it ends in '.jpg' gives us a clearer view.

Aright, we got three links to go to and one incomplete imgur link. For now, let's focus on the patient file. Typing that URL in gives us this.

Now, if you look back at the TV image you see 'Patient #__'. So, it seems that the patient is '#RN'. But then what's the deal with '5f6-7s2'? Well, here's the thing. If you google 'RN 5f6 7s2', the first few results show that it's connected to the chemical 'Plutonium' or the abbreviated version 'Pu', giving us our current answer 'Patient #Pu'.

But that isn't the final answer. I'll explain in a bit, but for now let's go back to the tv image and type in the imgur link for the picture frame.

Now as it turns out, SrPelo tweeted out that the font for the image was a bit confusing and led to people not being able to get into the image. He corrected it on twitter, but incase that tweet gets deleted, here is the link.

www.imgur.com/vMTf01K

Amazin. Now when I first saw and messed around with this image, I think I got the wrong message out of it. Changing the light values of this image took out some letters in a peculiar way.

YOU ARE ERY N

Now, I was on the right track, but I thought that this was like, a name reveal for Skid, with his name being Eryn. Maybe that was intentional, but that wasn't the main thing I was supposed to take out of this. Changing the values in a different way gave me this.

As you see, the letters that disappeared: E, V, T, H, I, G. They all had a different color compared to the rest of the text. But even within the disappeared letters, the letter V stands out as being a slightly different color. But where does that take us? Let's go back to the TV image and focus on the picture frame.

"#_lowcase". This implies that we are looking for a number and a lowercase letter. Taking the letters and rearranging them gives us:

'E, I, G, H, T, V". The number 8, and the letter V.

And putting that in the format that the phrase is demanding, we get '8v'. So, the solution to the picture frame imgur is '8v'.

One more link, and it's a YouTube link. punching that in gives us a security cam video.

Security_Camera_VIDEO_131518190503150405 - YouTube

Now if you watch the video, the security light in the bottom right goes bonkers around halfway thru. This is morse code. I'm not going to show you the beeps and bops as I don't have it off the top of my head, but all you need to know is that it translated to something like this.

"B . U P C A S E C . Y "

There was more that it translated to, but it was kind of random compared to what we have here. Assuming that the periods indicate a new letter, turning that phrase into a three-digit input gives us this.

'bCy' And that's what we take away from that video. Back to the TV image!

We are now going to try and construct that imgur link on the red book. Seeing that # sign on the 6th digit gives us a clue that '8v' are the last two digits, as 8 is the only number that can fill that numbered slot. But where does that put 'Pu' and 'bCy'? Well, to figure that out, let's look one more time at the patient file.

See that undercase p at the very beginning of 'pATIENT', a seven letter word? Seven letters... Seven needed imgur digits... That lowercase p not only indicates that 'Pu' goes first, but it also says that the P needs to be lowercase. And that only leaves one place where 'bCy' can go.

Plugging this link in gives us this.

Oh god,

LATIN.

Don't worry, you don't need to translate it, we're only working with individual letters. Though, to be completely honest, I'm not sure how well I'm going to be able to explain this. But I'm going to try my damned hardest!

okay, so...

I circled 9 different looking red symbols. The bottom right one is hard to see, but if you zoom in enough, you'll see. Some symbols have just dots, one of them has just a line, and some of them have dots and a line.

This is a numbering system.

Maya numerals to be exact. Basically, if you have a horizontal line, add 5 to the number of dots that are above it. We have numbers 1 - 9 here. The exact number of digits that are missing from the YouTube URL at the top of the image. So, presumably, if we had each digit that each numeral related to, we could fill in the YouTube URL in the numeral's order! But what does each numeral correspond to? Let's get the easier ones out of the way.

We have 4 numerals that are directly correlated with a digit. 5 is right underneath an uppercase K. 6 is underneath an uppercase V that was edited to make it an uppercase W instead. Same with 9 but lowercase. And 7 is correlated with a lowercase z. So right now, we have this for our YouTube URL.

____62KWz_w

Great start!

...But now what? The rest of the numerals are floating in dead space with no obvious correlation to a specific letter, and it would take forever to try and brute force it. So, what do we do? I now take your attention to the key to this entire puzzle.

A melting candle. Looking into the melting wax, do you see what seems to be drops of red surrounding what appears to be a red circle? Here's what you have to do. By taking a low opacity version of this pic and overlaying it so that each of the remaining numerals sit inside the red circle, we would see that at least one of the drops of red overlays on top of certain letters, correlating a letter to its numeral value. 5 red drops, 5 remaining numerals. Here's what it would look like when it's done.

(Btw, I was in a spooky month ARG discord server when I was trying to figure this out, and it turned out I was the first person to get the URL correctly! This is the image that I shared with the people there. We wouldn't have been able to do it if we weren't all in the same server sharing our different strategies for this puzzle, so shout out to all of them!)

Reconstructing the URL with the values that we got, with the numerals giving us order, gave us this video.

youtube

Spooky. Taking that audio and putting through a spectrogram gives you this.

However, if you listen closer to the audio, there is more morse code. Translating that code into words, and thus the final answer to this ARG gives you this.

"DON'T HIDE IN THE DARKNESS JOIN WITHIN MY BRIGHTNESS FOR THE VESSEL HAS ROTTEN YOU WILL BE NOT FORGOTTEN"

And that's the end of the ARG! The last ARG had a result similar to this, with a rhyming passage to finish it off. So, it's safe to assume that at the end of all the Spooky Month ARGs we will have a completed poem through all the rhyming passages.

That'll be cool to figure out, but until next time. Stay spooky!

#spooky month #skid and pump #sm skid #sm pump #spooky month ARG

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murfpersonalblog · 3 days

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IWTV Ep6 - Rewind the Tape

"After Louis tells Claudia that Lestat wants him to know he's still cheating, Claudia compares Lestat to her rapist, with the show literally putting Bruce's image over his. Immediately after, Louis' narration tells us he'd become numb and dissociated, "a vessel of acceptance." What do you think Claudia, Louis, and the show itself are suggesting about consent in this new domestic arrangement?"

@iwtvfanevents

A lot of the fandom H A T E S that Claudia was raped (even more than the Loustat fight), and they especially hate what Rolin Jones said about it toughening her up. But despite its inclusion/execution/explanation, I DO see where RJ was going with it all; as I've also mentioned how Claudia & Louis were deliberately put on the same level, as were Lestat and Bruce.

We know Carol Cutshall designed Lestat's matador costume for the "villain sequence" in Ep5 to emphasize his patriarchal hegemony over "the housewife and the mistake." Matador in Spanish literally means "killer." Through the matador costume, AMC brilliantly tied the Wolfkiller Lestat with Bruce the Killer.

We also have a hard time w/ instances of physical/sexual violence by Les against Lou--I saw a spicy post just the other day about whether or not the Disassociating scene was Les raping Lou or not.

I think in Lou's mind, sex with Les while he was disassociating wasn't rape. Louis himself pointed out that Lestat's affair with Antoinette was all tangled up in Lou's lack of libido due to his diet; and his later depression, ignoring Les' "considerable considerables." He WANTS Lestat ("I wanted him dead, I wanted him all to myself"), and when he comes back online he IS into it, cuz he loves the stupid man. I think he DOES consent, and TRIES to stay present--but "there were THREE of you" in that bed, and in that relationship.

I think in Claudia's mind, Lestat really was raping Louis. I think SHE had put Lestat & Bruce on the same level, convinced that Les felt the same way about Lou that Bruce did about her--and that Lou felt the same way about Les that she did--not understanding Loustat at all.

Claudia trips people up a lot wrt arrested development & stunted growth--she's either a little girl or a SUPER old woman or both or neither. How much can she REALLY know, process & experience?

Cuz in some ways, AMC!Lestat (& book!Louis) kinda did rape Claudia. Aside from the more sexual meaning, one can take "rape" in the original Latin sense (rapio/rapere: "to snatch, grab, carry off, abduct, rape, steal"); or we can take it in the vampiric sense, turning Claudia without her consent, and force/violence done to one's fledglings. Les is a bad Maker to Louis, but GODAWFUL to Claudia.

Lestat even puts himself above & beyond Bruce, saying he can and WILL do far worse than "defiling her pocket;" he'll KILL her.

Lestat snatched away Claudia's consent, & snatched her from the train crying & sobbing. He violated her autonomy just like he'd violated her privacy by reading her diary when Louis told him not to.

And what's sad is that because Claudia's a sadist like her father, she was initially charmed by Bruce & how he killed; just like she was charmed by Lestat's "extravagant" killing style. "He had a way about him." AMC!Claudia's the one who gives Bruce his epithet, but in the books his his name's just Killer (IIRC he's never given a real name).

But we soon see the gradual jadedness in Claudia. Her killing loses the bubbly giggling glee from her early years, as she becomes cold & far more calculating/methodical. Plus, she realizes that the men in her life that she initially THOUGHT were great heroes & "knights" & "angels" that had saved her, were really just HELL DEMONS. Lestat's not a cheeky "Brat" anymore, he's the frikkin Devil. The "darkness in her that wasn't there before" Lestat talks about is just REALITY; the dawning realization that Lestat, Louis, Bruce, NONE of these men were good to her. All good things died with Charlie.

She's desperate to go to Europe, cuz she's holding onto hope like a lifeline, that not all vampires are as bad as Bruce & Lestat. Unfortunately, Lestat was right when he said they're actually vicious and "far worse" in Europe. 😬

#vampterview #interview with the vampire #justice for claudia #loustat #lestat de lioncourt #operation matador

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napoleonic-sexyman-tournament · 6 days

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Compañeros, hermanos, amigos escuchen y regocíjense.

Europa está en caos, el imperio español se está derrumbando, Portugal continúa perdiendo influencia y Francia pelea en demasiados frentes, es hora de unir nuestras fuerzas, nuestros pueblos pelearán por la libertad, por la justicia ¡Por América!

No sólo derrotaremos a los gachupines, portugueses y franceses en el campo de batalla ¡También nos veremos mejor que ellos mientras lo hacemos!

Esta encuesta determinará quién de todas estas sensuales personas latinoamericanas será la que opacará más a los europeos, a la que más gente le encantaría tener en su cama por una noche ¡El mas grande ejemplo de exquisitez latinoamericana!

¿Quieres nominar a alguien para tan aclamado premio? Puedes hacerlo aquí

Reglas:

1. Puedes nominar a todas las personas que quieras, el formulario no tiene un límite

2. Animamos a que manden propaganda (en inglés o español o portugués)

3. Sexy man/hombre sexy es un término sin género, todos, todas y todes son bienvenidos.

4. Serán juzgados en base de las edades que tenían durante las guerras por la independencia y los admins se esforzarán para encontrar los retratos apropiados.

Eng:

Comrades, brothers, friends listen and rejoice.

Europe is in chaos, the Spanish empire is collapsing, Portugal continues to lose influence, and France is fighting on too many fronts. It is time to join forces, our people fight for liberty and for justice. For America!

We will not only defeat the gachupines, the Portuguese and the French on the battlefield. We will also do it while looking better than them!

This contest will determine who among these sexy Latin Americans outshines the Europeans the most, who most people would invite to their bed for a night. The best example of the exquisiteness of Latin America!

Do you want to nominate someone for such an honor? Nominate them here.

Rules:

You can nominate as many people as you want. The form does not have a limit.

Propaganda is encouraged (in English or Spanish or Portuguese)

Sexyman is a gender neutral term.

They will be judged based on the age they were during the wars for independence and the admins will try their best to find appropriate portraits.

La lista hasta ahora/The existing list is here:

Virreinato de Nueva España

México:

1. Agustin de Iturbide

2. Leona Vicario

3. Juan Aldama

4. José Maria Morelos y Pavón x3

5. Vicente Guerrero x2

6. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna

Virreinato del Nuevo Reino de Granada:

Colombia:

7. Antonio Nariño x3

8. Antonio Morales Galavís

9. Policarpa Salavarrieta x2

10. Francisco de Paula Santander x 2

Venezula:

13. Simón Bolívar x2

14. José Antonio Paez

Virreinato del Perú:

Perú

11. Manuela Sáenz de Vergara y Aizpuru

12. Micaela Bastidas

Ecuador:

15. Manuela a.k.a Manuelita Saenz x4

Bolivia:

16. Antonio José de Sucre x 2

17. María Ana Carcelén de Guevara y Larrea-Zurbano

Chile:

21. Manuel Javier Rodríguez y Erdoíza

22. José Miguel Carrera Verdugo

Virreinato del Río de la Plata:

Argentina:

18. Manuel Belgrano

19. José de San Martín x 3

20. Martín Miguel de Güemes

Uruguay:

23. Manuel Ceferino Oribe y Viana

24. Juan Antonio Lavalleja

25. José Fructuoso Rivera y Toscan

Haití:

26. Toussaint L’Ouverture

Brasil/The Empire of Brazil:

27. Joaquim Pires de Carvalho e Albuquerque

28. Maria Quitéria de Jesus x2

29. Joaquim Gonçalves Ledo

30. Maria Leopoldina

31. Pedro I

32. Hipólito José da Costa Pereira Furtado de Mendonça

33. José Bonifácio de Andrada e Silva

34.Francisco Gomes da Silva

35. Domitila de Castro Canto e Melo, Marquesa de Santos

#latam independence sexyman

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feathered-yelloweye · 3 months

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About Oktavia von Seckendorff

There's a lot to say about Oktavia (personally I'd say it's the easiest to find interesting stuff about her out of all the witches) but here's some stuff I've been thinking about.

(I'm aware that most of this has probably already been pointed out by someone at some point, I just want to ramble)

Her name

Oktavia is more obvious. Oktavia -> Octavia (latin, "the eighth"). In music an octave is an interval of eight whole tones (it's the same note in a different pitch, I don't know if people who don't care about music know this stuff).

Sayaka and Oktavia are both music themed I don't have to explain the connection, but I also find it interesting to note that Oktavia's first appearance is in the eight episode of the anime.

The interesting part is von Seckendorff, I know. Karl Siegmund von Seckendorff (26 November 1744 - 26 April 1785) was a German poet and composer (and military officer, which doesn't seem relevant right now but considering the knight elements in Oktavia's design that might have played into it?).

I'll be completely honest, he has very few creations and I cannot get access to any of them (he really was not relevant enough, I suppose) but Wikipedia lists one of his works as Das Rad des Schicksals, oder die Geschichte des Thoangesis, which directly translates to the wheel of fate, or the story of the Thoangesis(??). I do not know what is in that text, I can't even get an e-book of it. However, the title alone reminds me of the many wheels in Oktavia's labyrinth and other depictions of her.

This is going to sound like I'm reaching but the name von Seckendorff can also be connected to Kriemhild Gretchen (Madoka's witch). Karl Siegmund von Seckendorff found inspiration in Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, translated one of his novels and composed music for some of his poems. Goethe's Faust seems to inspire aspects of Kriemhild Gretchen, and considering the inherent connection between Sayaka and Madoka I feel like this is worth mentioning. (I might elaborate on this separately but the basic connection between Madoka and Goethe's Faust is: girl named Magarete loses her innocence/purity and becomes trapped and destroyed — from that point on is referred to as Gretchen. Being a witch is loosing your innocence freedom etc, being a witch turns Madoka into ((Kriemhild)) Gretchen.)

Von Seckendorff was never really successful when pursuing the arts, by the way. (I mean, people barely know him.) There's something to be said about Sayaka's whole story, about her being destined to always turn into a witch and never "succeed".

Her design

Most people are somewhat aware of the whole little mermaid thing, but I'll mention it again just in case. Sayaka's story greatly resembles that of the little mermaid (not Disney), which could explain Oktavia being referred to as the mermaid witch (and literally being a mermaid, she has a tail) as well as the general water/ocean theme both her and Sayaka have. You can read it yourself if you're interested, but long story short the little mermaid wants a human soul and a prince's love and exchanges her tongue (yeah) for legs with a sea witch so she can be on the surface, though she can't speak. (So still similar to the Disney version) The Prince does not fall for her, she dies of a broken heart and jumps into the sea, dissolving into sea foam.

The mermaid makes a great sacrifice for her wish and the love she desires and ends up not gaining anything from it, instead loosing her life as her soul withers away in the sea. Very Sayaka.

Okay this one seems weird but I thought of it when rewatching the series again.

In the first episode Junko (Madoka's mother) notes that pink ribbons will attract affection/attraction from men. Sayaka only became a magical girl in the first place because she desired Kyōsuke's love (and Octavia is destined to appear in every timeline that Sayaka makes a pact with Kyubey in, so you could argue that the desire for love is a direct reason for Octavia's existence.) (Oktavia is stated to be all about love/falling in love so I guess that's canon.)

I think the ribbon could just be there because of the school uniform, but I don't think that's the case (or at least not the only case. Design choices can have several inspirations) When witches take inspiration from their respective magical girl's designs it's usually about the actual magical girl clothes and not casual/school clothes. So yeah, I like to think it's meant to represent Oktavia's desire to love and be loved.

There's probably a lot more to say about her but these are some of my thoughts :3

#text post #oktavia von seckendorff #miki sayaka #sayaka miki #analysis #interpretation #puella magi madoka magica #my rambles

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poimandresnous · 8 months

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How I Structure My Hermetic Praxis with the Help of the Preces Templi PDF

Now, without trying to tackle and unpack what a “Hermetic praxis” entails or means philosophically or scholarly, we are going to briefly summarize that it is a practice that includes adherence to the teachings of the writings attributed to Hermes [Trismegistos], along with an adherence to the teachings found in such tractates such as the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM) and Picatrix, and many other magical/astrological treatises. Does one have to use the Picatrix or PGM? No of course not. This is just what my Hermetic praxis looks like. Nothing in here is “canon” or dogma. I am just expressing how the Preces Templi e-book by the incredible Sam Block, aka “Polyphanes” helped me restructure my praxis with a strong adherence to the teachings found in the Corpus Hermeticum (CH), Latin Asclepius (AH), and the Definitions From Hermes to Asclepius (DH), to name a few. A link to his Ko-Fi shop will be at the bottom of the page. I encourage anyone who is looking to structure a “Hermetic praxis” with an adherence to classical “Hermetic” texts and treatise to investigate his shop and also come join us in the HhoL (Hermetic House of Life) discord server! These things I practice are mingled and co-exist with an already daily devotion to the gods of Egypt and Greece, which that devotion can be deemed “Hermetic,” most certainly, but not all the time. Alright, now that I’ve introduced what I am talking about. Let’s get into what I do upon arrival, upon waking up I mean.

The first words out of my mouth upon my arrival will be taken from Chapter 2.2.1 from the e-book “Opening Supplication.” I find that a quick little praise or thanks to The All helps keep me focused and more mindful of my day-to-day interactions with others. It also reminds me to give thanks to the gods before I embark on any task, mundane or spiritual. Allowing me to start and complete every task with Divine influence. If I don’t say this upon awakening from my slumber, I usually say this little maxim to Amun: “Awake being rested, may you awake in peace! May Amun awake in life and peace! May NN (I insert my magical pseudonym here) awake in peace!”

After washing and stretching, I’ll say the prayer from CH I. 31-32, which Polyphanes lists as the Triple Trisagion, in Chapter 2.3. A beautiful prayer that closes the first chapter of the Corpus Hermeticum. I personally don’t use his translation, simply out of practicality reasons, as it is easier to just grab my Hermetica translated by Brian Copenhaver than to open up my PDF file of the Preces Templi. Though if I’m on the go, running late, or whatever it may be, the Preces Templi e-book is always a few taps away for me to show my devotion just on the go!

Next, after the closing prayer from CH I. 31-32, I say the prayer in the back of book 2 of the Ars Paulina to my Holy Guardian Angel. Now praying to your personal daimon, HGA, natal genius, whatever you want to call it isn’t found in the Preces Templi, nor found in any philosophical Hermetica. A method to get in contact with your “Personal genius” is found in the Picatrix, an astrological treatise attributed to Hermes. To me, this suggests the importance of getting in touch with your personal daimon for a Hermetic praxis.

Moving on to when I’ll come home from school or work. I’ll meditate informally (meaning without my ritual attire) on the sayings or maxims from chapter 3.2 of the Preces Templi e-book. These sayings are also employed when getting things ready for a theurgical invocation or my daily silent prayer for the god I am honoring that day.

Some of my favorites from Chapter 3.2 of the e-book are from the Stobaean fragments: SH 1.2 says, “What cannot be expressed—this is God.” CH XII.23: “There is but one religion of god, and that is not be evil.” Lastly, from CH XVI.11: “Irreverence is mankind's greatest evil against the gods.” Such beautiful work Polyphanes has done organizing all these sayings from various Hermeticas into practical guides so that these can be recited or simply meditated on. The choice is yours to decide what to do with these organizations’ young mages!

So, imagine that today is Thursday. On Thursdays, I honor Asklepios. Along with the Orphic Hymn I sing to Asklepios in the mornings, later in the day, I’ll use chapter 7.22 from the e-book: “Hymn to Asklepios.” Tuesdays are for Anpu, so sometimes I may use 7.20: “The Hymn to Anubis” instead of some handwritten hymns for the wonderous Foremost of the Western gods! On Fridays, I perform the Israeli Regardie Hymn to Isis, and then I’ll use chapter 7.12 from the e-book titled: “The Hymn to Eros” to honor both Isis and Eros on Fridays. All these hymns found in chapter 7 of the e-book can be referenced to the Greek Magical Papyri.

I use this e-book almost like a springboard to help further my studies and structure my devotional praxis. These are prayers and hymns in this e-book. No concrete “rituals” or anything of that nature. With some homework, though, one can use the e-book to bring some fundamental structure and ritualize what is here into your own practice! I don’t use everything here; I’m keen on constructing my hymns and theurgical invocations. But it’s a tremendous and invaluable resource that is super cheap, and it has greatly aided my structuring of my own ritual praxis. I love this e-book, and I’m sure if you follow and enjoy my musings, you’ll enjoy and find the fruits within the Preces Templi e-book.

https://kofi.com/s/751c99dfa9

https://digitalambler.com/2020/12/09/new-ebook-for-sale-preces-templi/

#hermes #occult #hermeticism #hermes trismegistus #hermetic philosophy #hermetica #prayer #hymn #ritual #hellenic polytheism #kemetic polytheism #greek magical papyri

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