#Especially for a university that is teaching wild magic

[milfcamilanoceda]

"Haha if toh had been a lesser show written by worse writers it would be Lumity being ambigious and Huntlow being front and centre" You fools!! You are all thinking too kind, if toh had been a lesser show with way worse writers Eda would have ended up as a law abidding COP!!!

[conjuredsun]

The Witch Father

In traditional witchcraft, we often come across mentions of the enigmatic Witch Father. His Folklore is scattered, and there is little consensus to who He is. The mythology of Witch Father folklore is spread across centuries, hidden in tales of the Devil and in the transcripts from witch trials. He is a multifaceted being who rules over life, death, initiations, knowledge, and the untamed wilderness lurking at the edges of society.

The Witch Father is an archetypal Divine Masculine Spirit that illuminates life and is a lord of death. Witch Father is a catchall title for the myriad spirits witches have historically contracted with and have since been omitted by the witch trial transcripts across Europe. 

He is most commonly known as the Devil in today’s craft. As we know him, The Witch Father is an initiator and holds the keys to our disinhibition towards pleasure. He opens the way to occult knowledge and gives us the opportunity to explore (legal) pleasures without the need for guild or shame. Walking with the Witch Father allows us to dive into the hidden realms and learn the Occult Arts to change our lives. He also allows us to revel in primal human desires. 

As the Initiator into Witchcraft, the Witch Father takes on the mantle of the Light Betwixt the Horns. He comes into our lives and offers us the choice to go down this path and walk with Him. He grants us an understanding of magick, nature, and pleasure. He empowers us to uncover our Truth and the Truth of the World. As the initiator, some see the Witch Father as Lucifer. He is also the Serpent who revealed to Eve that the fruit from the Tree of Life will not cause her to die but will grant the wisdom of the universe.

The Witch Father allows space for us to free ourselves from the inhibitions placed on us by general society, and especially the church. He encourages us to rebel, sing, dance, and uncover wisdom. He leads the Witch’s Sabbath, which grants us a place to revel in the freedoms offered there. By leading us to this sacred experience, He fills his role as an emanation of the untamed wilderness, the primal subconscious of our most human desires. He gives us the Church of Nature. Taking the liturgical prayers of the Church and the Book of Psalms, mixing that with more ancient pagan animism, we are given access to a hidden power through His teachings.

Now, while I talk as if the Witch Father is a God, he is not. He is an ancient and powerful spirit who has led witches over the centuries and demands reverence. He is not all-powerful and is not a creator. He works his charms through magic and shapes the world. He is not a distant, impersonal being. He is immediate to us and is a mentor for us. 

Disinhibition

At the Witch’s Sabbat, our spirits fly away to commune with Our Devil, other witches and spirits in His retinue. It was a place to mix business and pleasure. At the Sabbat, witches would learn new spells, come together to work rituals, learn new forms of magick from the Witch Father, and of course partake in enjoyment. 

The Sabbath is a place of Initiation for new witches and also a place for learning new aspects of the craft. Once the business concludes, the Sabbat becomes a celebration. We may forget the staunch rules of mundane society and revel in our animalistic and beastial joys. There is singing, dancing, food and drink. We can indulge in these desires and these delicacies. All of which is orchestrated and gifted to us by the Witch Father. 

The Wild

There is a deep connection between the Witch Father and Nature. They are ‌synonymous with each other. He is an emanation of the land and its spirits. As Christianity became the dominant religion, and as society shifted further away from living in harmony with Nature, the figure of the folkloric Devil grew. He calls to us to return to the untamed lands and to forget the society that weighs us down. He offers liberation instead of our oppression. 

The Witch Father, as Nature, holds a duality over life and death. He is life itself and the bringer of light. But he is also the Lord of Death and of shadows. As the year turns, we see both aspects and the cyclical nature of them. Death giving way to new life and of life giving way to death. He is destruction and creation. Death and resurrection. 

Even His iconography and the existing descriptions that we have of the Devil show the immense connection He has to the Land. He is a shapeshifter comfortable in being a recognizable animal, a humanoid form, or even a hybrid. He reminds us of our baser instincts and that we are not above animals or the land just because we, as humans, have subjugated them for centuries. 

He is the Horned one, the light betwixt the horns, Terra Pater, Primus Magus. And he has revealed himself to us in so many other forms throughout the centuries. It’s hard to pigeonhole the Witch Father as any one being, or to even say “this is what he looks like.” He’s shown us he is comfortable changing his shape on a whim. He takes on the mantles of mentor, guide, and is a safe space for us to let our guard down and find enjoyment outside of our mundane lives. 

Old Scratch

Old Scratch is a more antiquated term for The Devil or Satan primarily found in the Southern United States and the South Midlands. This name has been memorialized in Faustian Folklore such as “The Devil and Tom Walker” and “The Devil and Daniel Webster” where our protagonist sells his soul to the devil for prosperity. 

This reinforces the theme that our Witch Father, the Folkloric Devil, offers us a chance to change our luck and our lives. Now, in these stories, the protagonist is taken away and dragged into the fires of hell, but in the living practice of Traditional Witchcraft, it doesn’t happen that way. We see these stories as what happens when trying to break deals with the Otherworld. Contracts and Pacts made with Spirits should be kept up with. It’s imperative. 

Black Shuck

In East Anglian folklore, Black Shuck is an omen of death. If you see him, it is said that you will die before the year is up, and if you meet his eye you’ll be dragged away. 

The first mention of the Black Shuck is in “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” in 1127 where He is affiliated with a Wild Hunt that was in Petersborough from Lent through Easter. Later on, in the 1500s, he is said to have broken into a church and killed two paritioners while kneeling in prayer. 

Here we see the Chthonic side of the Devil. He is a psychopomp taking souls to the Other Side. He is a shepherd of the dead, warns us of impending doom, and teaches us about life, death, and ways to travel between the Worlds.

[xdark-night-of-the-soulx]

The Witch Father

In traditional witchcraft, we often come across mentions of the enigmatic Witch Father.

His Folklore is scattered, and there is little consensus to who He is. The mythology of Witch Father folklore is spread across centuries, hidden in tales of the Devil and in the transcripts from witch trials. He is a multifaceted being who rules over life, death, initiations, knowledge, and the untamed wilderness lurking at the edges of society.

The Witch Father is an archetypal Divine Masculine Spirit that illuminates life and is a lord of death. Witch Father is a catchall title for the myriad spirits witches have historically contracted with and have since been omitted by the witch trial transcripts across Europe. 

He is most commonly known as the Devil in today’s craft.

As we know him, The Witch Father is an initiator and holds the keys to our disinhibition towards pleasure. He opens the way to occult knowledge and gives us the opportunity to explore pleasures without the need for guild or shame.

Walking with the Witch Father allows us to dive into the hidden realms and learn the Occult Arts to change our lives. He also allows us to revel in primal human desires. 

As the Initiator into Witchcraft, the Witch Father takes on the mantle of the Light Betwixt the Horns. He comes into our lives and offers us the choice to go down this path and walk with Him. He grants us an understanding of magick, the darker side of nature, and pleasure.

He empowers us to uncover our Truth and the Truth of the World.

As the initiator, some see the Witch Father as Lucifer.

He is also the Serpent who revealed to Eve that the fruit from the Tree of Life will not cause her to die but will grant the wisdom of the universe.

The Witch Father allows space for us to free ourselves from the inhibitions placed on us by general society, and especially the church.

He encourages us to rebel, sing, dance, and uncover wisdom.

He leads the Witch’s Sabbath, which grants us a place to revel in the freedoms offered there.

By leading us to this sacred experience, He fills his role as an emanation of the untamed wilderness, the primal subconscious of our most human desires. He gives us the Church of the wild, untamed Nature.

Taking the liturgical prayers of the Church and the Book of Psalms, mixing that with more ancient pagan animism, we are given access to a hidden power through His teachings.

Now, while I talk as if the Witch Father is a God, he is not.

He is an ancient and powerful spirit who has led witches over the centuries and demands reverence.

He is not all-powerful and is not a creator. He works his charms through magic and shapes the world.

He is not a distant, impersonal being. He is immediate to us and is a mentor for all Witches and Warlocks that seek to work with the wild and wicked side of Nature. 

──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━─

Disinhibition

At the Witches’s Sabbat, our spirits fly away to commune with Our Devil, other witches and spirits in His retinue. It was a place to mix business and pleasure.

At the Sabbat, witches and warlocks would learn new spells, come together to work rituals, learn new forms of magick from the Witch Father, and of course partake in enjoyment.��

The Sabbath is a place of Initiation for new witches and warlocks, and also a place for learning new aspects of the craft.

Once the business concludes, the Sabbat becomes a celebration.

We may forget the staunch rules of mundane society and revel in our animalistic and beastial joys.

There is singing, dancing, food and drink. We can indulge in these desires and these delicacies. All of which is orchestrated and gifted to us by the Witch Father. 

─━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━─

The Wild

There is a deep connection between the Witch Father and Nature. Or rather; Untamed Nature.

They are ‌synonymous with each other.

As cristianity became the dominant religion, and as society shifted further away from living in harmony with Nature, the figure of the folkloric Devil grew. He calls to us to return to the untamed lands and to forget the society that weighs us down. He offers liberation instead of our oppression. 

The Witch Father, as Nature, holds a duality over life and death. He is the creator of new life through free sexuality.

But he is also the Lord of Death and of shadows.

As the year turns, we see both aspects and the cyclical nature of them. Death giving way to new life and of life giving way to death. He is destruction and creation. Death and resurrection. 

Even His iconography and the existing descriptions that we have of the Devil show the immense connection He has to the Land. He is a shapeshifter comfortable in being a recognizable animal, a humanoid form, or even a hybrid. He reminds us of our baser instincts and that we are not above animals or the land just because we, as humans, have subjugated them for centuries. 

He is the Horned one, the light betwixt the horns, Terra Pater, Primus Magus. And he has revealed himself to us in so many other forms throughout the centuries.

It’s hard to pigeonhole the Witch Father as any one being, or to even say “this is what he looks like.” He’s shown us he is comfortable changing his shape on a whim. He takes on the mantles of mentor, guide, and is a safe space for us to let our guard down and find enjoyment outside of our mundane lives. 

─━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━─

Old Scratch

Old Scratch is a more antiquated term for The Devil or Satan primarily found in the Southern United States and the South Midlands. This name has been memorialized in Faustian Folklore such as “The Devil and Tom Walker” and “The Devil and Daniel Webster” where our protagonist sells his soul to the devil for prosperity. 

This reinforces the theme that our Witch Father, the Folkloric Devil, offers us a chance to change our luck and our lives.

Now, in these stories, the protagonist is taken away and dragged into the fires of hell, but in the living practice of Traditional Witchcraft, it doesn’t happen that way. We see these stories as what happens when trying to break deals with the Otherworld. Contracts and Pacts made with Spirits should be kept up with. It’s imperative. 

─━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━─

Black Shuck

In East Anglian folklore, Black Shuck is an omen of death. If you see him, it is said that you will die before the year is up, and if you meet his eye you’ll be dragged away. 

The first mention of the Black Shuck is in “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” in 1127 where He is affiliated with a Wild Hunt that was in Petersborough from Lent through Easter. Later on, in the 1500s, he is said to have broken into a church and killed two paritioners while kneeling in prayer. 

Here we see the Chthonic side of the Devil.

He is a psychopomp taking souls to the Other Side.

He is a shepherd of the dead, warns us of impending doom, and teaches us about life, death, and ways to travel between the Worlds.

─━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━─

The Man in Black

As the enigmatic Man in Black He is the official leader of the Witches' Sabbath. He has with him the Book of Names, into which all Witches and Warlocks must enter their name during their initiation to the Dark Arts.

The title "Man in Black" is in reference to the black, or dark, clothes that he is often said to wear.

Beneath his shadowy exterior, the Man in Black is sometimes seen as the Devil himself. However, as such, this Devil stands out in folklore as being quite different from the theological Satan.

Instead of being a spirit of pure evil, the Man in Black is much more nuanced and complicated than a moral binary distinction.

While he can certainly appear overtly cruel and fickle at times, he is the one who stands as initiator into the ways of Witchcraft.

Through the tests and trials of the Man in Black, those who are in need find themselves both enchanted and empowered.

By his hand, would be Witches are guided along the crooked path and taught the art of the Craft.

And in many ways, it is his shape as the True Witch Father.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

╰┈ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 ┈➤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : liam could’ve sworn this was the first time you’d met, so why does he feel like you know him better then he knew himself?

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reincarnation modern!au, billy isn’t billy but rather liam, and he’s an actor, this part is pretty long

𝐚/𝐧 : inspired by my friends shenanigans and talks of reincarnation! hope you enjoy!!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

William loved Billy the Kid.

Your very own kid brother, WIlliam, had declared his own nickname to be Billy because of just how much he loved the famous western legend. Ever since you had told him of the old famed outlaw, he’s been obsessed. He changed his nickname, his clothing style, he even tried speaking in a drawled western accent like they did the old black and white cowboy shows, which Billy also loved.

He printed and weathered his very own copies of the Kid’s wanted posters, decorating our small ranch house with homemade wanted posters of me, himself, and our Pa. He printed vintage movie posters and the famous old photo of Billy the Kid to show off to anyone who'd visit your little gem in the middle of nowhere in Southern California. He even begged you and your father to teach him how to shoot just so he can connect with his hero. 

Billy had also coerced you into sewing him trousers and a blouse just like the Kid wore in his iconic wanted poster. He would steal your fathers hats and boots as well as your wine red cardigan, walk outside, toothpick in mouth, playing pretend.

Billy’d pretend that he was in the famed Lincoln County War, surrounded by Jesse Evans and his gang of misfits employed under Murphy and the House. He’d use his pretend gun and shoot all the bad guys down just as Billy the Kid had at the burning McSween house.

Of course, as Billy grew up, so did you. You had left your father’s ranch, your home, and moved to Los Angeles to finish high school and attend university. 

In university, you ended up studying history and visual communication. You loved history, tales of old, myths and legends, all of it. You were the one who taught your kid brother about the famed Billy the Kid on a road trip through the American South-West once after all.

It was your senior year of high school when you had finally found your calling. During that school year, you had found yourself signed up for a theater class. However, you were terrible at acting. You couldn’t memorize lines and your singing voice was locked up in your shower, the key thrown away and never to be found. 

Of course, your best friend, Lucy, had gotten the lead role of the play. She was born and raised in Hollywood, the land of movie magic. She was a natural, her improv and memorization skills making her one of the top people in that theater class. Her voice was akin to a sweet angel which is why the musical theater club always cast her as the lead, even in musicals such as Shrek where she played the big, burly green ogre to perfection. 

However, Lucy was very particular about her costumes. She loved you for that exact reason. You, ever since you were a child, had been talented at sewing and costume making. And on top of that, you loved historical processes and authenticity. So, of course in an attempt to include you in their play, Lucy sang praises about your skill as a designer and a historian to your teacher who had awarded you with the title “Art Director”, whatever that meant.

What did matter was that you had the time of your life. Being an expert on history, especially the Wild West which was where the play was set in, you were considered the saving grace of the play. You had led the costume department, aka you and one other classmate, in creating historical-ish costumes for each and every one of the 21 different characters. You had also led the stage crew in creating the backdrops and settings with props which all were weathered by you to look as if you had plucked them straight out of Gunsmoke or even Bonanza. 

You had discovered your love for design and history there, carrying that love with you as you went on to enhance your studies in college. As time passed on, you started to post your creations online, oftentimes getting commissioned to create costumes and even design pro global pieces based on time periods or films. Most of these posts of course were of Lucy in her costumes she asked you to make for her for her plays and musicals as she went on to professionally act and perform in live performances and movies. 

Naturally, as your account and following grew, so did your opportunities. Soon, you found yourself being contacted by actors and actresses alike, asking you to design their premiere looks. Even movie studios contracted you as a consultant to help with their movies. Of course, you accepted the position. Even your papa and Billy had been ecstatic to hear about your new passion, especially so when you told them about your new consultant gig.

After accepting the job as a historical design consultant for movie studios, you often found yourself working with costume departments, helping make sure the costumes seemed plausible for their time period. You were consulted with on set designs, making sure furniture and other items on set actually existed during that time period. Everyday, you were working on something new, using history and your knowledge to bring cinematic artworks to life, transporting actors and viewers to a time or place.

Needless to say, you loved your job.

Even more so, the perks of said job.

You were paid a handsome check every month for just doing what you loved. You were invited to gala’s and dinners alike to celebrate the movies and shows you worked on. And not only that, because you were a consultant, you worked primarily from home only and for the most part, on your own time. 

You were provided with the lush fabrics and delicate threads to create costumes and pieces. You were able to use a plethora of old sewing machines from one of the very first manual spinning ones to one of the most rare, a model from 1938 of which only 43 remain.

Your ‘office’ had to be your favorite perk of working in the movie industry though. It was located on the movie studios backlot in a building called ‘Creator’s Heaven’ because it was one of the largest creative spaces in all of Hollywood. It was an upscale warehouse with shelves towering with different fabrics, lace, and threads. It had rooms called “Makers Space” dedicated to sewing with TV’s and speakers fit for a movie theater to help with boredom when sewing by hand (although it does nothing for concentration especially when one’s favorite actor is on screen). 

You also were given permission to create your own private projects in the Maker Spaces, even if you had to lug all your own materials to the rooms yourself. You loved putting on your favorite movie or show while you created costumes as a private designer or even for yourself. Of course, that’s how you found yourself in one of the rooms one warm night in late July. 

You had promised your brother that you would make him a new costume for the Old Lincoln Days festival in New Mexico you went to every year. It was always one of the highlights of your lonely summers in LA. Your papa and lil Billy still lived on your darling little ranch which always made you homesick when your Pa would video call you and show you how much the cattle had grown or how full the fields were.

But every summer, you drove down south, picking up Billy, costumes in hand. You would then endure the incredibly dull landscape of the South-West for three days, stopping along other towns every now and then to rest, eat, and even stay the night. 

You spent the drive singing to the songs on the radio in your little SUV, AC on full blast, the cool air would sting your noses but keep you from roasting alive in the heat of the sun. You would talk with Billy about his schooling, how life was going for you too. But by far, your favorite part had to be about how Billy’s eyes lit up at every mention of the movies you helped make. Truth was, while Billy still loved Billy the Kid, he also has fallen in love with many many other movies. 

Sometimes, when your father would drive all the way to LA with Billy to visit you, you would also take Billy with you to work as an assistant of some sorts. Billy always was so energetic and buzzed with happiness whenever you did bring him along. 

You always enjoyed seeing your Papa and Billy, even if it was only ever on a video call. You loved getting to see your baby brother grow up into middle school then to high school. He had decided to stay with your Pa, helping out on the ranch and attending school in town. He had grown so much too. He nearly towered over you at the tender age of 15. His legs may have grown longer but his smile still stayed as boyish as it always was.

Which is why you loved your road trips to New Mexico. Even if it was only for a little under a week, you loved getting time to spend with your kid brother. Billy and you also loved getting to dress up like they did in the Wild Wild West too. You always made sure to update Billy’s costume because of how much he grew in a year. But you? You always always wore the same get up. Dark chestnut trousers that met your hips, straps pulled over your shoulders which lay on top of your deep red blouse. Even a gun belt, the leather hanging a little loose on your waist.

You never knew why you always wore the same old clothes but it always felt right to wear when you visited New Mexico. 

Liam loathed driving to New Mexico. 

He didn’t understand why but it always felt wrong. And yet here he was, Garett and Evan in tow, his best friends in the entire world. 

Growing up, Billy didn’t have much. His family moved from the big city to New Mexico in fact. His Ma worked night and day as part of the local Inn’s housekeeper. His Pa worked out on the ranches and farms, helping whoever would pay him while Liam stayed home in their small two bedroom cabin with his baby brother Jo. 

Naturally, as both Jo and Liam got older, they too started to work. Liam helped his Ma and Pa however he could. He learned to ride a horse to help herd the cattle, harvest wheat and grain, how to herd cattle, how to sew, clean, and cook. He worked hard at night, helping his Ma at the Inn while going to school in the morning with Jo.

And that’s exactly how Liam’s life went on for the next ten years. Slaving the day away at school, trying to get an education while working at night to try and help pay the bills. 

Yet it was in New Mexico that Liam had found his passion.

It was Liam’s 17th summer alive when his Pa had surprised him with a trip to Lincoln. The occasion? It had been a celebration of the official end of the Lincoln County war. The festival had been held for many years now, many tourists coming to visit the famous Old Lincoln Days festival where they celebrated Billy the Kid and his famous legend. 

Little did all those tourists know, drive a little more North and you’d find that the Lincoln days weren’t too far gone.

Of course, Liam’s Pa didn’t do anything without good reason. It had taken Liam a little over five years to convince his father that they needed a car, the reason his Pa finally cracked? Liam told him that it had an A/C. 

Turns out, the real reason that Liam’s Pa had taken him to Lincoln that fateful summer was all because he had signed up Liam for the lead role in the famous shooting reenactment. Every year, the first weekend of August, the festival would kick off with it’s old timey cantina’s and saloons. They even had elaborate Wild West costumes and ‘cowboys’ that would ride their steeds up and down the street, talking in drawled accents and jumbled up lingo that had to have been made up. They would take swigs from flasks and chew on long stems of wheat that rested in between their teeth.

Liam hated it. It sends shivers down his spine every time he even feels a whisper of a memory of that first time he played the Kid in the festival his father had volunteered him for.

Liam had only had three days to practice the scene, yet it was almost like muscle memory for him. They were reenacting the scene where Sheriff Pat Garrett shoots and kills the Kid. 

It truthfully felt as if he had been in that exact same position. Why or when? Liam could never figure it out, no matter how much he wracked around his jumble of memories.

It was as if he had actually been walking down the streets of Lincoln, after dinner presumably. It was as if he felt the malicious eyes of Garett staring him down as he asked 

“¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?“. 

It almost felt right to fall to the Sheriff’s gun, almost as if he truly was William H Bonney who had lost everyone he’s ever loved to death who also begged for the sweet relief that he would find in the afterlife.

It always irked Liam. Nevertheless, he was just grateful that he got paid. 

As the years passed, Liam started to fall in love with the role, volunteering every year up until he moved away for college. He wasn’t Billy every year, once he was actually Sheriff Garrett, but he always got to work with his best friends Evan and Garett, who he actually met at 17 while volunteering. In fact the three were so close that they all moved together to sunny California from arid New Mexico. 

And they have been together ever since. They all fell in love with theater and acting, especially during the re-enactments they all did in the festival back home. The trio attended community college together, renting a small two bedroom apartment together. They all worked their asses off to make rent each month while studying Trigonometry and American History.

As for how they survived in a two bedroom apartment? Well, thanks to their very special schedules with work and school, only two of them would ever be sleeping at one time. Evan couldn’t properly function until at least 2 PM which meant that he slept through the morning and was out late at night. Garrett also had a very unique schedule, rather than sleeping ten hours at once, he split it up. He’d wake up bright and early at 4 AM, leaving for his morning job down at the police station where he helped sort paperwork and whatever, come back to the apartment to nap from a little after lunch till 6 PM where he and Evan would usually go out for drinks before attending class together.

Liam never really understood how those two functioned drunk on beer, learning in the middle of the night, and working odd hours. Liam had prided himself on being the most responsible of course. He’d wake up early as well, attending classes in the morning until lunch rolled around where he’d go to his job at an old family-owned diner. 

He loved working at that little diner, it never failed to remind him of his Ma who also ran a diner and bakery back in New Mexico. She’d even open up a little pop up shop in Lincoln in time for the festival where she attracted tourists and locals alike with her delightful baked goods and savory dishes she spent hours on preparing.

It was moments like those that Liam thought of on the hard days. As the trio worked through community college, they also all started auditioning for other roles and jobs. Of course, being young and new to the whole acting scene, rarely did anyone choose the kids from the middle of nowhere New Mexico.

That is, until they held auditions for a rendition of the famous Billy the Kid story. Garett had been talking to an agent who had managed many many famous actors who were looking for new blood. It was through that agent that he had found the audition which he told the boys. Of course, Liam was ecstatic. At 20, Liam had been faced with countless empty email inboxes when it came to roles he auditioned for. Even Evan and Garett had consistently pulled Ad and modeling gigs. So, as one does when one is down on their luck, Liam remarked,

“Fuck it, what do I gotta lose?”

Liam regards that moment of uncertainty when he closed his eyes and clicked ‘Sign Up For Audition’ as the best thing he’s ever done. 

He had driven to the theater where they were holding auditions all by himself since neither of the other two were gonna audition for any of the roles since they had booked another Ad campaign the week before. 

In honesty, Liam was so nervous waiting in that line that slithered through the hallways filled with other boys and men around his age, height, and build. He could still feel the way that his hands nervously shook as he reread the script over and over and over again. He was usually good at memorizing things like math formulas and other lines of plays and musicals yet he just felt so jittery. Perhaps it was because he was playin’ Billy the Kid, a character he’s played before. Perhaps it was because he was from New Mexico and he had a hankering to do one of his states heroes good.

Regardless, Liam still walked straight ahead onto the stage, performing the lines as best as he could without choking on the words. Of course, Lady Luck refused to grace Liam at that moment where he had forgotten the line. He panicked and scrambled to recall all those years of playing Billy, speedily racking his brain for any form of assistance it could relay him with. 

Of course, his brain ran on empty, nothing came out of his mouth. Or well, nothing came out of his mouth but his hands moved on instinct. Liam had quickly raised his gun from the belt they had given him to use as a prop. He channeled each of those years of learning how to actually shoot a gun as well as how to quickly draw it to move his arm at lightning speed. 

And it must’ve worked because the casting directors yelled cut on the tape, urging Liam to come close to the table they sat at. They then truly surprised Liam by asking where he had learned to draw that fast. Liam explained that he had grown up in a small town just a bit away from Lincoln where he had learned almost everything he knew from his loving Pa.

He told them about his family, the farm he grew up on, and his experience on stage as Billy. They applauded him and snag praises of his ability as well as his knowledge on the outlaw. In truth, Liam was relieved that the casting directors had been impressed with his quick draw.

The pride Liam felt as the casting directors sent everyone else in line away as they started sharing the timeline and filming details. He felt his chest swell with happiness and giddiness as they began discussing the script and how the hours were gonna look while filming. 

That day has truly been one for the books, seeing as Liam did journal. 

He loved recounting and writing about his days and feelings. He always felt it was right from when he was younger till today, it just felt right. Yet, it was the one thing he couldn’t explain, it felt as if he had done it before. 

But when?

The streets of Lincoln were alive with the buzz of laughter, happiness, and the allure of the Wild Wild West. The streets were filled with people who had arrived early to celebrate the Old Lincoln Days. 

Of course, that group of people also included you and your brother.

You two would consistently try to get to the event early to enjoy all the festivities that were available. You would take your eager brother to the shooting range where you could shoot pellet shotguns at cans as they did in the old days to practice their aim. You would drag your poor brother to each of the shops to look at the lovely pieces of jewelry that artisans made.

Walking around the small town, you truly felt transported into the Old Lincoln days with people dressed up in all sorts of get ups from modern day cowboys, to old American debutantes. You loved the aura the town held as they celebrated their past. No matter how dark it was.

“Hey sis?” Billy's meek voice pulled your attention from the third jewelry store of the night. You loved looking at the dazzling gold and silver, you especially were fascinated by the deep dark blue sapphires that were lined up on the display.

“Yea Billy,” you turn to him, looking into his eyes that mirrored your fathers own. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing, just wonderin’ why you never buy anything from these jewelry stores that you visit every year.” You chuckled. Billy asked that every single year and every single year your answer was the same,

“Cause Billy, I got my trusty necklace. What else would I need? You know I just like browsing.” You smiled, slowly walking away from the stall. Your fingers instinctively found their way to your neck where lo and behold, your necklace was still hung loose from your neck.

Truth was you never could remember how you came into possession of the lovely chain. All you knew is that ever since you were young you remembered wearing the chain with a charm of a worn bullet swinging from the end of it. Even your father couldn’t recall when you had started wearing the necklace, it was as if it had been with you since the beginning of time.

“Well, can we start un-browsing and get some food at that one pub inside that old hotel?” He looked at you in his dapper new get up consisting of a simple dark striped blouse and trousers. However, the new gun belt around his waist was very much not simple. It had nearly taken you three hours alone to prep the tough leather you had used to create it. You could still feel the rough texture of the leather underneath your fingertips, the feeling of having to push and pull the thick needle up and down through the strong material. It had been a pain to make but seeing how happy your brother had looked when he wore it for the first time was worth it. 

“Sure, why don’t we even grab some of those pastries you love so much while we’re at it?” You sling an arm around Billy’s tall frame, walking towards the small pop-up bakery your brother adored.

“Yes!” He laughed, sprinting to the shop in three seconds flat thanks to his inherently long legs. He quickly picked up his favorite pastry, turning to you once he got to the young boy at the cash register who couldn’t have been more than three years older than your own brother.

You smiled as they started talking, looking at the other wonderfully tasty looking breads that were on display.

“See anything you like dear?” You looked up at the woman behind the counter, her dark hair and warm eyes inviting you into conversation.

“Well, everything looks very delicious ma’am. I’m guessing you’re the mastermind behind these amazing pastries?” You smiled warmly at the woman.

“Why yes I am, my lovely son Jo is manning the register this year too. He's grown up so well, just like his brother.” 

You turned to look at the two boys again, Billy showing Jo something on his phone.

“My own brother, Billy over there, absolutely loves your baked goods. Every year when we’re here, he has to come here to buy something at least once a day.” 

“What loyal customers you two are! Your brother there reminds me of my ow-”

“MA!” Jo’s voice carried from the register, “can I go with Billy here to the pub? Liam texted and told me to meet him there and Billy here said he and his sis are already gunna go.”

Jo’s Ma sighed and chuckled at her son, her head shaking as she smiled, “Yes of course you can go meet up with your brother at the pub.” She quickly folded a box up, filling it to the brim with pastries. Nimbly, she folded the lid before walking to her son, taking his un-tied apron from him. 

“Here, since you two have been coming here for years, why don’t you take this box of pastries, on the house.” Billy lit up, singing thanks ecstatically. He and Jo rushed out of the small shop, running towards the pub. You quietly thanked the lady for the pastries as you followed the two trouble makers out and back into the hustle and bustle of Lincoln.

You quickly catch up to the boys who have already pushed open the doors of the small but packed pub. There were tables crowded with people dressed as cowboys and sheriffs all toasting to the Regulators, people dressed as debutantes munching on tamales made by locals, and even people just in plain tees knocking down shots of tequila. 

It was a very familiar scene and most definitely a welcome sight.

Billy and Jo sat down at one of the tables, further away from the bar of course, eagerly discussing their clothes which Jo was wearing a very similar version of. You sat down next to Billy, looking around as they happily chatted their head off in the already loud space.

They placed their order, continuing to chatter off about Billy the Kid and the reenactment happening tomorrow. You looked around, observing the costumes people wore.

“Hey Jo, who’re these folks?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a rich, deep voice. You raised your head to look at the man who had just strolled on over to your table.

Liam had walked into the pub expecting his younger brother to be seated at their usual booth. What Liam hadn't expected was for his lil’ brother to be accompanied by another boy around his age and a woman. Where had a boy as young as Jo even found a girl to pick up already? 

Liam walked on over only to be met with a view like no other. You were no girl, you were an angel. And when you looked up at Liam with those bright round eyes, Liam could have died a happy man. Everything caught his attention, your wavy hair in an updo, your soft lips which were begging to be kissed, and your necklace, a bullet hanging in between the valley of your chest. 

“Liam!” Jo jumped, startling you out of your trance. You had been shocked by Jo’s older brother, Liam. His hair was the loveliest chestnut waves that begged for fingers to run through. He wore a dark blue blouse and deep burgundy trousers. His eyes were what captivated you the most. His deep blue eyes reminded you of the beautifulest sapphires that even the color of the ocean and night sky couldn’t even hope to beat.

Jo stood up, sending his chair back as he hugged his brother’s torso. Liam chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, committing the sound to memory. You smiled at the interaction which reminded you so much of yourself and Billy. 

All four of you sat down again as the food arrived. You all shared the food, Jo and Billy continuing to chatter leaving you and Liam to your devices as you sat across from each other. You two averted your eyes from one another, heat rising to both your cheeks nervous to talk to the other. 

Liam tried not to stare, really, but you were mesmerizing. You shined brighter than any star could, and your smile? Liam only caught a glimpse of it and yet he knew that the warm feeling he felt in his chest was not heat exhaustion.

“Sooo,” you started, trying to get the man across from you talking again,” I’m Billy here’s older sister, by the way. I don’t know if you need to or even want to know but my name’s,” you drawled, your voice getting quieter and quieter until you uttered your name.

Liam perked up at that, meeting your eyes once more. Where had he heard that name before?

He whispered your name and you could have sworn that the room had gotten 100 degrees hotter from the way his deep voice drawled the syllables of your name. “ As in the famous Billy the Kid’s lover?”

You shook your head chuckling. In all the years you have been alive, there has never been a moment where the first connection someone made with your name was the ill fated lover of William H Bonney. 

“Yes, exactly that. How do you know that?”

“Well it ain’t that hard to connect darlin’, your kid brother’s the outlaw ‘n your his girl. Your parents must’ve loved the Kid.”

“Well actually, it was me who sparked Billy’s nickname, his real name’s William though so I guess he is the Kid. isn’t he?”

Liam laughed at that, small world isn’t it?

“Hey! What’s so funny over there mister?” You sternly gazed at the man. From afar, one could argue that Liam looked young and spry but once you take a closer look, he isn’t a boy at all. He's pure man, all six feet of him. Taut muscle toned his body which was broad and clean. 

“Nothin’ darlin’, just, it’sa small world ain’t it? My name’s William too.” He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. You felt your lips turn upwards at the man in front of you.

“Well then, Mr. William, what do you do for a living?”

You smile as Liam happily responds, continuing the conversation late into the night. Even Billy and Jo had left to go roam around the festival. You and Liam continued your happy chatter, a small tug pulling at your heartstrings.

You’ve met before right? That's impossible, you two clearly have never seen each other. Yet why was it like Liam knew you better than anyone? Why did it feel as if you had already shared these smiles and laughs?

Was this even the night you two had first met?

sorry that its so long and it TOOK FOREVER to post, just been real busy anyways, i hope you enjoyed!

[depraved-poets-anonymous]

Pomegranate-Stained Lips Chapter 1: A Raphael/Haarlep/Tav(og female character) Slowburn

Before Chapter One some quick notes: Yes this will be a slow burn story posted to AO3 but as I wanted a fresh account to begin posting from, everyone on here is treated to the early access until that comes through! No, Tav, is not her permanent name as you will see, and it is based on my idea of the Raphael romance we should have had in game. Initially canon compliant but later divergent, I know you guys are here for Raphael, so I'm uploading the first three chapters today so you can see how I write and the man in question. Varying POVS at times, eventually will be NSFW when we get there (very much so), and so much lore for Haarlep when they're introduced. This is my first time writing fanfic so I hope it isn't awful! Without further ado; Chapter One! No beta, we die lilke Alfira (words-2288)

Tav was the name she went by. It was simpler that way. Albeit plain, but some things are better being such. A new life. A new identity. A fresh start. As anyone of sense knows, there is power in names. Heroes are forged, battles are won, and deals are made; all through the power of something seemingly so small.

 In the distant lands, across several seas where the odd ones live, (exclusively humans who have not yet discovered Faerun or magic), children are taught not to give their names to strangers or anyone who doesn’t appear human. This behavior is the byproduct of several centuries past when the pixies and wild things they called Fae still inhabited those lands, spiriting away trespassers to their hidden courts. 

In those lands, fairies and elves are creatures of fantasy. They have no concept of tieflings, and the wretches of Avernus are exaggerated stories and myths from the old times to scare the unwitting. They have no knowledge of the Absolute, or of those monsters we call Illithids. Common agreements have been made by most Overworld species to not interfere with their ways and let them discover the greater world in due course, though the occasional impish goblin can occasionally be found tormenting a village. 

All this to say, their world, in Tav’s opinion, is incredibly boring. 

“Again with the stories of the odd ones Gale” she groans, leaning back against a stump. “I understand we’re to let them find the world in their own course but I don’t blame the wood elves and pixies for leaving those centuries ago. The lot of them sound like a boring and grumpy group that kills anything new. What do they even call themselves? Vikings?” she wrinkles her nose at the name.

“Ah no, the term Viking is actually a common misconception, and was the name given by the explorer  Ptolemy Battersbee who called them that due to that being the word they most commonly spoke when he blundered into one of their encampments. It's believed to mean-well- we’re not quite sure actually. The polite academic term is North-men, and their culture is actually quite complex and well nuanced with many roles for women in their society that rival male dominated structures,” Gale remarked brightly, practically stumbling over his words in his excitement to discuss something he’s studied aside from magic. Tav’s face softens. She never can manage to be harsh towards Gale. It just feels wrong. And with most of the group on a ticking clock, him especially…best to not use whatever time they have being cruel.

“Right. North-men it is then. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and they’ll sail over here in our time and you’ll get to see them personally,” she offers, watching the way his eyes light up as he immediately launches into an academic monologue of the importance of initial cultural ties. In another life she could see him as a professor in some University, the leading expert of the Sword Coast on whatever it is that he would choose to teach. 

In the background of the camp, Wyll is working on dinner, Shadowheart supplying him with whatever herbs he asked for. Making dinner is supposed to be a rotating responsibility but some of the group members are either completely incompetent with the idea of cooking, or at least struggle to concoct something palatable, leaving it to a far smaller circle, Tav included. However, they all like when Wyll cooks. The Blade of the Frontiers has been in the wilderness long enough to learn how to both survive, but also to make food worth eating, leaving everyone satisfied instead of just passably full.

Eventually, the meal is ready, and the group sits down, idle chatter making its way around the fire. Tav sighs as she sees Astarion eyeing her in the half light, knowing what he wants. She quietly grabs seconds, knowing she’ll need the extra energy, the food now tasting bland on her tongue as she braces herself for the emotional upheaval. 

Tav had gradually become the de facto leader of this group of misfits. Initial challenges by Lae Zel or other members were easily shot down by the fact that their strategy and tact was not always the best when it came to keeping everyone amicable. In Tav’s mind, some things were better done yourself. Tadpole aside, she wished to keep as much control over the situation as she could. Which is where Astarion came in. The vampire spawn was hardly subtle. It had taken her less than a week to figure out what he was, the incident with the Boar almost laughable. He hadn’t even had the chance to attempt to bite her that night before she’d had him in a chokehold, establishing what they now called ‘the arrangement’. Loathe as she was to do it, the last thing they needed was a vampire spawn running rampant and hungry, and he did in fact fight better when nourished. The others didn’t dare let him take from them, and she was the ultimate prize after all. No blood sweeter than that of a high elves’. To a vampire, it was like ambrosia.

“Our usual tonight?” he purrs, “If you’re up to it of course my dear.” 

She nods stiffly, the two of them slipping away after mealtime for privacy. No sooner are they ensconced in the brush, her half laying on some blanket they’d laid there for comforts sake, is he on her, the familiar flash of pain as his teeth find the now familiar wounds, breaking still raw skin as he suckles. The heady euphoric rush, a sort of venom built into the fangs to ensure compliance in prey, was not enough to boost Tav’s mood tonight. Astarion clearly had an agenda of his own, one she was trying to uncover. He was easily the one they knew the least about aside from her, and his behavior was nothing but flirtatious towards her, something she didn’t quite trust. There was no earnest intent in his eyes. Instead, a haunted sort of sadness that makes his actions almost unsettling at times; hollow seduction. As if he were trying to win her affections for some greater reason. Nonetheless, he wasn’t one to open up without considerable effort, so she found herself having to tolerate certain things like nearly passing out for the chance to learn more.

Quickly growing lightheaded due to blood loss as the minutes tick by she feels herself lie back, his hands moving to support her gently, body drawing nearer as if in an intimate embrace. The movement of his lips against her neck grows more languorous, as if he were planting lazy kisses there, his delicate features glowing softly in the moonlight. When he finally removes his teeth, he does not yet pull away, tongue doling out soothing licks against the wounds, another feature of his changed physiology, ensuring that the marks close. One could mistake it for tenderness if they were not careful.

“Satisfied are we?” Tav murmurs weakly, knowing better than to sit up just yet.

“But of course” he coos, smoothing a lock of her hair back in a facsimile of care, “I want you fit, not weak. Keeping this band of oddities together is hard work and I needn’t strain you further, though you taste absolutely divine, better than any vintage. And I'm more than grateful for your little…gift. One might think you deserve a reward with all you put up with mmm?” he leans in, far too close, the pout of his lips the only thing of focus. Tav suddenly realizes that he looks almost like a desperate prostitute, in fear of whatever fiend owns them, attempting to make their quota. The idea of kissing him like this makes her stomach turn. Something isn’t right.

She finally sits up, pulling away from his mouth in the process, effectively looking as though she didn’t realize the missed opportunity, “Perhaps I’ll be deserving of a reward if I somehow manage to keep us alive. If we somehow get these things out of our heads. If I can get at least some of them an ending. Not even a perfect happy ending, life doesn’t work like that, but one where they have the chance to live freely.”

He stiffens almost unnoticeably at the word ‘free,’ as though reminded of something unpleasant. It's his turn to make a move however, and what he utters makes her breath catch and body freeze.

“Tav isn’t your real name is it?” 

“What makes you say that?” her tone a little too defensive. She’s usually a good liar with an even better poker face but being drained half dry leaves her guard down; he knows this.

“Your response for one,” he chuckles, but there's a dry sort of humor in it, “But I’ve never met a high elf named something so…simple…without meaning. We get our full names when we come of age, obviously I never got that privilege.”

He’s right, but it’s also brilliant on his part. Just the right amount of truth about his past to keep her interested, but vague enough to keep himself from being emotionally vulnerable. It’s true at any rate, his name still the kind high elves give their children. Little Star. Tav means nothing.

He leans against her, as if physical touch alone would inspire vulnerability. His lithe body is cold against hers, too cold, the vampire never truly alive. Even the warmth from the blood taken from her gains a chill as the night creeps in. Embracing him, she imagines, would be like embracing a shattered doll. Though Tav doesn't appreciate someone trying to get an advantage over her, she can’t deny the fact that she has an urge to protect him. People don’t look like that without reason. She’s sick at the idea of lying with him as if it were some inevitable event he's expecting. It feels dirty. As if she’d be committing some crime. And yet still she must play her cards right and not bring this fact up immediately. She must remain in control.

“I named myself. We all have things we’re running from. Things we’d like to forget. The old name was a package deal. Not like I’m the only one here with a story. Gale’s is nasty enough as is, and I can’t even begin to comprehend Shadowheart’s. Not to mention that vampire bastard Cazador who turned you. I think I’m allowed to leave things behind.”

He nods in agreement, not willing to relinquish the full details of his own story, though the fact remains that she is still the most mysterious of their companions, that lich Withers not included. He’ll let it rest for the night, satisfied in what he believes to be his progress so far.

“You can only run so far” he whispers, breath hitting her delicate pointed ear, a faint twitch in response. The fluffy white curls of his coiffed hair tickle her neck, the kind of thing you’d yearn to run your fingers through, though she’s oddly more concerned over how he manages to style them when he can’t even see his reflection. “After all, would it not be better to let someone in? Share the load? You do so much.”

Honeyed words fall on deaf ears. She stands, noticing the disappointed look in his eyes though she doesn’t take it as based in genuine affection. “It’s getting late, if you want to sleep rather than trance you’d better get back to camp, I’m on watch tonight as is, and you’ve had a long day.”

High elves can of course, both trance and sleep, a little known fact. The former is typically reserved for travel, or high stress situations such as in combat zones to maximise rest and efficiency. The latter is deeper and restorative, a sign of great vulnerability and trust. Tav hasn’t slept in years, the number quite forgotten.

The pale elf also rises, looking more vampire than anything else in the moonlight. “I see. I assume this will be good night then. My thanks for this darling, don’t stay up all night, I’d hate to see you unwell.” 

The pet name is registered but not verbally acknowledged, the expression of almost sadness on Tav’s face as she ponders his use of it missed by Astarion as he turns and walks back to camp, footsteps silent in the underbrush, as if he were a ghost.

Realms away a figure paces through immense halls, their night sleepless. Their partner is away on business, the bed once again cold.

She stands there for a moment before following, preparing for the long watch ahead. Scratch would keep her company for a little while, but inevitably even the dog needed to sleep and was the sort that would wake from idle petting. Minutes blur into hours as she sharpens her weapons, elven ears pricked for the slightest disturbance, sipping water as her body slowly replenishes what was taken. She is eventually relieved of her duty by Lae Zel just a few hours before dawn, settling down on her bedroll to trance for a few hours.

She is, of course, being watched. They all are. But Tav in particular is of greater interest to multiple parties. The tadpoles offer unwanted visibility from certain individuals, but there are more ways than biological intruders to spy on people. Some see opportunity. Others see a lost treasure. However, there are others that see a story. A great drama that presents the opportunity of achieving both a throne and unification across the hells, unaware of the machinations that fate might offer otherwise. Act One has just begun. And the plot as it were, had just begun to tick.

[numericalbridge]

I dont think individual headcanons or AUs are, like, bad, or that it's the biggest deal ever, but tbh i think that the way family tropes replace all other types of platonic interactions in toh fanon is really disappointing, especially when the show itself actually does try to portray various dynamics and seems to intentionally highlight the role of community and mentors/teachers.

Like, Eda becomes a mother to King, and has found family dynamic with Luz, but with others? To me at least (while i am still not sure how to feel about her opening an official school/university) Eda opening up and teaching and mentoring children who are not her family in any way and making sure that others can learn the wild magic and are not left behind like she was, is much more interesting than 'Eda is everyone's mom!' fanon. Lilith becoming a mentor or friend to Amity post-canon seems better than turning the one woman in the cast who isn't a parent and is happy to be a weird aunt into another mother figure. And Raine's role as someone who used to be a teacher and who had their students follow them into a rebellion is much more interesting to explore than just calling the Batts Raine's adopted children or turning Raine in another parent for Hunter (talking about canon readings here, not intentional AUs).

And like, yes, 'found family' is a vague concept that might encompass mentorship, but within the fanon it usually means a few very specific dynamics that most often don't actually explore the community and its importance for the characters (something that does seem to be a theme in the show) - and this includes most of the 'found family should not be like nuclear family!' takes as well btw, since most of them still utilize a very narrow range of possible dynamics. And then with toh fandom specifically all the adults are either turned into parents or are assumed to be failed parents just by being in a proximity of a child, like what happens with the Coven Heads and Hunter.

And, yes, i've also noticed that basically the only time when many of the fans seem to remember about other dynamics and start to complain that 'not everyone should be a parent' is when they want to dismiss Darius as a parent figure for Hunter. Many of the fans say that Darius would be better as Hunter's mentor rather than father, but then never actually explore that mentorship and it's clearly just an excuse to remove him out of the way. And instead they only bring up Darius' and Hunter's relationship to bash Darius and still judge him as if he is a failed neglectful parent. So the found family or adopted family just replaces all other platonic relationships, unless it is a character of color whom the fandom hates.

Meanwhile there are interesting dynamics that get completely ignored just because they don't fit into that 'new parent' trope - like the moments between Camila and Willow, or Willow and Gus and their relationship with Eda. Yes, canon is also weird about Gus and Willow and tends to side-line them, but the fandom doesn't help and uses it as another excuse to not explore them and their connections with others deeper.

[daybringersol]

headcannons about chip, christianity in mana, his internalised homophobia and its relationship with his repressed fire powers :

// tw for religious trauma, christianity, manipulation, trauma and death mentions

in mana, christianity is the religion of the outcasts, most people worship aster and/or lunadeis, but pirates, criminals and the lower class in general adds another “god” to the pantheon : jesus, as he was portrayed in the bible, a human with divine links to a god unknown who took care of the unfortunate, poor and marginalized. his tales are mostly relayed through oral tradition, so depending on where you are, his teachings and worships changes a lot. in most cases, jesus and his unknown god is just an addition to the already existing pantheon of gods and leviathans of mana, and not the only true god. some people with bad intentions sometimes twists his teachings to fit their worldview and influence others, but they pretty much never have enough systemic power to change much outside of their inner circles.

when chip was a kid living on the streets, he was way too worried about his survival to think about love, and all the other kids (of all genders) that hed find cute were always much more higher class than him anyways. his powers were pretty weak, tho still wildly uncontrolled. it just felt like the small flames that kept appearing around him liked him and wanted to help him rather than him having any control over them. he sometimes heard whispers of jesus and his teachings, but didnt really understand what it was and didnt really care.

when the black rose took him on, most people on the crew were christians, tho in a old sailor way. tales of jesus mixed with those of ancient sea beasts would flourish on the deck of the black rose, and the lessons he learned from them were about hope, about universal love, about helping those in needs. about getting your hands dirty through work and knowing youd get to heaven, while those high class corrupt rulers, bourgeois and officers would rot in hell for what theyd done to your world. chips fire magic, while still uncontrolled, grew and took on a life of his own, tho itd usually cower away in times of distress, much to chips dismay. for his bisexuality, chip was much more concerned about his life on the ship, and didnt care for love during that time.

when the hole in the sea happened, chip was too stressed out and his powers did nothing. thats when he decided that he needed to harness them, to train himself to actually control them so that maybe he could help of something like this happened again.

so when price found chip, he was prime for being manipulated into the mafia. he was lonely, lost everything he add, needed guidance, needed someone to train him and.. also had a crush on price. for the first time, he felt obsession, something that again, he couldnt control, that he needed to harness, to tame. the mafias christianity was much more strict than the black roses, and tried more to extrapolate the values of jesus’s unknown god than to follow him as an example. since romance was nothing but a distraction/weakness, the crew was mostly male-dominated and that femininity was seen as weak and, homosexuality as feminine, love, especially male homosexuality, was very frowned upon, and considered as a sin. emotional volatility, and thus, the uncontrollability of chips power are too. price did return chip’s advances sometimes, but only for the purposes of manipulating him into being even more loyal to the gang. there, price trained him to shackle both his fire powers and his desires, to keep the good parts ( power / social status that male heterosexuality gives ), but to annihilate the bad parts ( wildness / vulnerability of emotional connections and social nonconformity / bisexuality ). the fact that he is a bastard also plays into this, since he now is conditioned to believe that the fact that hes alive in itself is sinful ; thus, he needs to be perfect to repay for his original sin. when everything breaks, that price asks him to kill a man and that he flees, is whole world is shaken apart and his trauma of losing everything once before resurfaces. his emotions and powers were taken advantage of, and his trauma response is to simply lock away both the good and the bad inside of himself, after feeling their full intensity one last time ( the heartbreak of seeing prices manipulation, loving him anyways and being deeply afraid of that / letting the wildness of his fire engulf the mafia headquarters ). even most of his memories of it are locked away.

with the crew of the albatross, he slowly unlearns the values burned into him by price and his crew. he sees people who are like him, who love him, tho it takes a very long time to internalize that they aren’t just with him for his usefulness, that his sin is just as inconsequential as theirs. he tries his hands as doing as he did before, flirting with women (that hes genuinely attracted to) for social status, but his fear leaves him stunted and awkward. same with his powers, when he finally learns again to use them, is it very controlled, and thus weaker. he doesnt trust himself with the “bad” parts of his identity, hes barely able to control the “good” ones. when gillion kisses him, he, for a moment, lets himself go, lets his obsession breathe and exist, but as soon as the moment is over, he put his guard up tenfold. it takes a LOT of time to him to figure out how he feels for gillion, but once he does, he feels like atlas, holding of his shoulder the gravity of his sin. he does not tell anyone for months, view his feelings and himself as dirty, as something that should be kept hidden, especially since gillion is someone of much higher class and with a much greater destiny than him. he rushes into broom closets to have panic attacks after particularly intimate combat training, writes letters and poems that he keeps under a floorboard. he fully knows that jay is also bisexual, but in his head, its different if two women are together, since thats not ever something that was talked about at all with prices gang ( there were barely any women ). he also fully knows that gillion is asexual, and in his head, that proves gillions inherent superiority, since he is less vulnerable to being led astray by his desires. also, chip is much too caught up in his own shit to care what other people do.

anyways, heres a quote that fits pretty well

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

I love your Fiddlesticks nickname hc for Raeda 😭♥️💞 do more Raeda HC if you like!

Ah I'm glad you like it!

It actually ties to another Raeda headcannon Raine doesn't swear, especially around children. Oh Fiddlesticks is very common to hear along with Titan or Fudge it all

Eda is the one to openly swear around the kids, she's got the mindset You do realize they swear outside of adult earshot, just teach em when it's appropriate. She was very proud also in tears laughing when Luz called Emperor Belos, Emperor Bitch Alot in front of her.

Their Palismans are reflections of each other, Owlbert is a lot like Raine and Fiddlesticks is like Eda in temperament,

Fiddlesticks gets into Trouble Constantly while Owlbert prefers to hide in Edas hair or interlocked on their staff

Fiddlesticks and Darius have a love-hate relationship with each other, especially after the violin incident.

Again Eda has given the Fox the nickname Fiddle while Raine occasionally calls Owlbert Bertie,

Raine and Eda Dance through life in general Kitchen they are that couple you can just watch them dance doing anything it's very clear they know each other the move so intricately

Eda may snore, but Raine is much worse. She will wake up, and Raine is splayed out on top of her like a starfish mouth wide open. She doesn't mind it as it actually amuses her,

Raine is horrible with the Camera, as in constantly taking pictures of their family, Eda yells out Nini has the camera to give the Owletts a chance to duck and run, to the Bards playful annoyance. They though took this as a challenge.

Raine talked to Eda and actually had their Bard Coven Mark removed so she could teach them Wild Magic, which they mixed into the Bard Magic to create a new lineage of Wild Bard Magic. As you can probably tell it's a very fluid and chaotic track, it's also made Raine much happier they've learned so much more then changing the chemistry of drinks with the mixing of magical lines.

Eda and Raine co-teach a class once a week on the importance of healthy communication in relationships at the University, not wanting other Witchlings to separate like they did over miscommunication.

They also allow students to approach them with relationship issues. A lot say the pair probably helped to correct a majority of relationships in the youngsters.

Eda and Raine lead the charge of disbanding the Coven system and instead made a council to run the Boiling Isles. So no one would ever have all the power to themselves again.

Eda personally handled Terra Snapdragon, especially after the PTSD she caused with Raine as they couldnt drink any drink without whistling into it for years, it made them sick elsewise,

They are the couple everyone knows. They inspire others to be better to each other.

They had actually talked about kids before so Raine fell easily into the role of Nini to the Owletts as they jokingly call their brood of Adopted kiddos

(Nini a Gender Neutral Term for Parent)

This is just some don't be afraid to ask for more haha

[clandestinegardenias]

Top five topics you like to teach?

Ohhh that’s a good one! In no particular order…

1. Ethics

I teach a topical ethics class that counts as a university requirement and I looooove it! Getting the students to understand and articulate different possible ethical perspectives on a topic is super rewarding—it’s basically getting them to practice taking other people’s perspectives on controversial issues and seeing where they’re coming from. Plus I get to work with students from all sorts of majors!

2. Music and Masculinity

I taught a masculinities class last semester as a one-off. It’s not in my usual rotation but the department needed it taught so I stepped in and really enjoyed it. The unit on music might have been my favorite—choosing songs and music videos for them to analyze was a blast. They LOVED “What’s Goin’ On?” by Marvin Gaye, and making a bunch of Midwestern farm kids watch Monterro by Lil’ Nas X was great

3. Intro to Sociology

Haven’t taught this one since I was a TA in grad school, but I love introducing students to sociology and how to think sociologically. It blew MY mind as an undergrad and getting to share that experience is really magical.

4. Queer Ecology

This kind of goes along with eco-feminism and all of the critiques of that, but I love getting to connect sexuality and queerness to sustainability and ideology, as well as pointing out the ways that can become problematic. I don’t usually get to talk about queerness in my classes (masculinities being an exception) so this is a special unit for me.

5. Exam Review

Okay idk if this even counts as a ‘topic’ but I LOOOOOVE doing exam review with my students! I make it into a game (usually Jeopardy!) with party favor prizes for the top three teams. I especially like the final exam review because the students all know me and each other and I get to see them relax and be funny and competitive and see their personalities shine. I also always do one category that’s random facts about me, just for fun, and they go WILD for it, it’s so cute.

Ask me my top 5 anything!

[amazythelsblogs]

The Benefits of Teaching Your Children to be responsible and to make their own choices

The three main areas of focus inculde;

- food: teach the child to take conscious action when choosing food products to consume. Food is like energy boosts. It is not neccessary for survival, especially not the processed barcoded sealed in plastic factory produced concuctions that magically find themselves on supermarket shelves each day. 

1. First, learn nature, connect with nature, and form a bond with nature: Encourage children to walk barefoot, or to examine little bugs and plants, to touch trees and to run free in forests. Show them movies like Avatar, Rio, and Moana, to further beautify and heighten the value of nature in their minds and lifestyle. Encourage them to let their imagination and feet run wild, because imagination is our truest and purest form of spirituality.

2. Ask them how they would now feel, if their new friend the river or their big brother the tree, was poisoned with plastic and black gunk spills, or cut down and used for commercial paper or fast fashion furniture. Or, simply cut down for the fun of it. Chances are they will strongly dislike this idea and do even more to better the environment around them. 

3. Read to them traditional and authentic fairy tales, to keep alive the imprint of the past, and simple ways of life, that now appear either ‘aesthetic’ or ‘old and boring’, and encourage them to write imaginiative tales of their own, basd in such beautiful environments or even fictitious environments created by themselves. 

4. When and if absolutely needed, encourage the child through a fun and ;little game’ approach, to find for example 3 things without the funny shiny stuff around it, and to pop those only in the basket. Try to limit their awareness of ultr processed foods and restaurants by simply dismissing them. 

5. Creating such a positive environment in the home, to the point where the outside, consumerist world is but a fleeting whisper, is the best way to encourage children to take care of themselves and of the planet. Not trying, but simply existing, authentically, and lovingly, joyfully. 

6. Try to limit the time they spend in front of the Tv, and playing video games, which overstimulates and exhausts the brain. Turns them into zombies practically. While in th emoment it may seem easier to let them turn on the phone, long term they will just be building an intolerance to anything that distracts them from their cheap entertainment, and will gate keep it to the t. 

7. monitor what they are taught in school, and remind them every day that they are able to make their own choices, that they are free human beings, and that school is a way to guide and keep them safe while parents are at work. 

It honestly breaks my heart, school is the realty and everyone forms their opinion on it depending on their circumstances, and own perceptions of life and how it should be, which is also caused by years of social conditioning, being served on a silver plate, big corporation support, and growing to love your chains. It is wrong, at the end of the day, to separate families. It is like a grand scale holocaust. Separating families, so the parents can go to work, to fund more endeavours, sustain a life that is dependant entirely on a system that drains the spirit, the work till you’re dead mindset, and the horrible misconception that working hard gets you far. 

Nothing gets you far, unless you have rigourously studied the market, the goal, the strategy, unless you have been preparing for your entire life for the moment. And unless you have a strict and specific and precise plan for your mind to execute, you will stay in this cycle forever until you die, hoping that your child going to university and drowning in debt will get you that dream house, or that buying this, or doing that will help in any way. No. You do not want to help a struggling and crumbling situation. If you want to change, you need to rip away the old identity, create a new one based on successful and powerful figures, adapt your mind, or completely transform it, get up, and go. Get up and do the learning, the work and the steps you have already planned out for yourself. You need to stay awake consciously, you need to stay aware fully, throughout your day. As if you are constantly strapped into this body, constantly calculating your next move, and constantly re evaluating the steps you have already taken, what worked, what didnt work. Instead of saving up money to impress your poor trying to be rich friends and getting those sneakers or shopping on that cheapo website for fast fashion junk, build up your savings and view them as a resource for the time that you are aligning with, the opportunity that you are aligning with. If you dont have it at your library, invest in books. Do not tell anyone about your savings or how much money you have ever. They will try to give you advice on what to do with it, and depending on how infulencial, controlling, or trustworthy that person is, you may end up taking it and getting yourself into trouble with your future self. 

For example, letting an elder family member know how much money you received from a birthday or as a gift, they may try to tell you to use that money for things that have served them, but the key is to find ways to make your money grow by itself. 

If your friend has a talent, you may consider investing in it. Tell them, that your buying them some crayons is an investment, for their art business, that when they make a sale, you get some profit out of your initial investment. If you have siblings, catch them out for doing something unproductive in a fun way, and encourage them to partner or group up with you to come up with a fun project, to share the result with the world. Not counting on gaining revenue or recognition, but building team playing skills and experience, bonding with family, and encouraging more effective ways to use everyone’s time on earth.

Time is money, time is your currency, your biggets asset. When you have time, you have everything. 

I understood this very early on. I did everything I could to get out of school to learn, and paint as much as I could, I spent long and tiresome hours in the school library, cramming my head with as much knowledge as possible, using the macbooks to learn music production, using the computers and free printing tickets to write and print transcripts and to print my art, I used the time on the bus to listen to subliminal affirmations, and to learn extra languages, I went above and beyond, and worked hard every day to make the most of my skills and my talents. To the point of burn out and spiritual psychosis, but that is a story for another day. The moral of this, is that life is a story, which I say very often. Just write one that suits you. 

the other two f’s, 

- free time: learning to actively participate in the family, and teaching your kids to have common sense. If you do everything for them, give them food that is already blended for them, and allow them to eat food and play games designed for them, they will be ghetto spoiled. “Designer kids in cardboard boxes”. 

- fitness: to find fun and active ways to spend their time and to be involved in their own health.

Encourage them to read books about these subjects, but do your research before hand, because books are like downloads from other people’s brains. 

Also, teach your kids basics, but don’t teach them to be basic. Teach them to be confident, to be proud and to question everything they are fed.

Bonus:

How to recognise if you are being a dicator. 

[alexesguerra]

Wild Witchcraft: Folk Herbalism, Garden Magic, and Foraging for Spells, Rituals, and Remedies Wild Witchcraft: Folk Herbalism, Garden Magic, and Foraging for Spells, Rituals, and Remedies Contributor(s): Beyer, Rebecca (Author) Publisher: S&s/Simon Element ISBN: 1982185627 Physical Info: 0.8" H x 9.1" L x 6.1" W (1.14 lbs) 240 pages "Rebecca Beyer provides a well-researched history of European witchcraft and American folk healing practices, followed by a solid introduction to growing and foraging healing herbs... Beyer covers much ground efficiently and makes a strong case for why these practices are especially necessary now." --Bookpage starred review "Deep background on herbal uses throughout history and across Appalachian, Native American, Anglo-Saxon, and West African folk medicine traditions sets this volume apart, particularly the illuminating opening section on the history of witchcraft and folk healing. Beyer's accessible guide bewitches and enlightens." --Publisher's Weekly starred review Learn how to cultivate your own magical garden, begin your journey with folk herbalism, and awaken to your place in nature through practical skills from an experienced Appalachian forager and witch. Witchcraft is wild at heart, calling us into a relationship with the untamed world around us. Through the power of developing a relationship with plants, a witch--beginner or experienced--can practice their art more deeply and authentically by interacting with the beings that grow around us all. Bridging the gap between armchair witchcraft and the hedge witches of old, Wild Witchcraft empowers you to work directly with a wide variety of plants and trees safely and sustainably. With Wild Witchcraft, Rebecca Beyer draws from her years of experience as an Appalachian witch and forager to give you a practical guide to herbalism and natural magic that will share: -The history of witchcraft and Western herbalism -How to create and maintain your own herbal garden -Recipes for tinctures, teas, salves, and other potions to use in rites and rituals -Spells, remedies, and rituals created with the wild green world around you, covering a range of topics, from self-healing to love to celebrating the turning of the seasons -And much more! Wild Witchcraft welcomes us home to the natural world we all dwell in by exploring practical folk herbal and magical rites grounded in historical practices and a sustainable, green ethic. Publishers Weekly 03/07/2022 (EAN 9781982185626, Hardcover) - *Starred Review Contributor Bio: Beyer, Rebecca Rebecca Beyer is the woman behind the Blood and Spicebush School of Old Craft. She lives in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where she manages a homestead and teaches traditional witchcraft, foraging, and Appalachian folk medicine. She has a BS in Plant and Soil science from the University of Vermont and a Masters in Appalachian Studies and Sustainability, concentrating in Appalachian Ethnobotany at Appalachian State University. She is also a member of the Association of Foragers. She spends her days trying to learn what her ancestors did and finding ways to share traditional skills while tackling cultural appropriation and the complexities of living in the modern world.

[wutbju]

Althea J. Wright of Waupaca, age 77, passed away surrounded by love on Monday, February 27, 2023.

She was born in Rockford, Illinois on April 28, 1945 to the late Robert and Esther (Robinson) Smith. On December 23, 1974 she married David Wright at Harlem Methodist Church in Rockford, Illinois. Althea was a member of Wild Rose Baptist Church.

She received a bachelor’s degree in education from Bob Jones University, and spent many years teaching children. Later she went on to attain a master’s degree in library science from UW Madison. She spent her final working years before retirement as a library media specialist at Doty and Langlade elementary schools in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Teaching children and enchanting them with her love of books & reading was one of her greatest joys.

Her life’s ambition was to have babies, watch them grow up, and surround herself with grandchildren. Althea spent spring & summer days in her country garden, bringing flowers to full bloom with her magical green fingers. She was a bright, strong woman with a surprise spunk underneath her red hair & freckled sweetness. Althea invested her deepest love in her family all the way to the end.

She will be sadly missed by her husband David; children: Amanda and Clifton, grandchildren: Griffin, Jamison, and Rebel, siblings: Billy and Margaret, nephews, nieces, extended family, friends, past students, and her cat Suzie. In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by a beloved unborn infant, siblings Arletta, Burt, Lois, Rachel; her in laws Fran & Carl Wright, and many pets that she adored.

The Memorial Service will be on Thursday, March 9, 2023 at 3 p.m. at the Maple Crest Funeral Home. Friends and family may gather on Thursday from 1 p.m. until the time of the service. There will be a reception with nourishment at Wild Rose Baptist Church immediately after the service.

Althea loved the brightest flowers-especially giant roses, hydrangeas, tulips. She compared her strength to the delicate & powerful purple saxifrage flower. In her happiest days, she traveled the world with her husband David. One of her favorite dreams come true was surrounding herself in the flowers of Keukenhof, the largest flower garden in the world.

In honor of Althea’s love for all the beautiful things, please feel free to bring one of your favorite flowers to place around her urn at the service. In celebration of Althea’s love for vibrant spring colors, traditional black attire is not required

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Naked Beside Fish by Yiskah Rosenfeld

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/naked-beside-fish-by-yiskah-rosenfeld/

Naked Beside Fish locates itself firmly in the mystery of what lies between: between #poetry and #art, words and silence, the minutia of daily #life and the infinite expansion of the cosmos. In this surreal space, inner and outer landscapes mirror and converge in surprising ways. Playfully structured around a museum exhibit, this ekphrastic chapbook takes us from art studios to camping under stars, from making mud soup at a children’s museum to picking out paint colors in the kitchen. There is even an imagined art gallery translated into words, featuring paintings by Matisse, Picasso, and Chagall, as well as a “gift shop” appendix. With exquisite use of metaphor, color, and imagery, these poems pierce the heart, tunneling beneath the surface of life’s canvas to name the emotions lurking beneath. The poet’s background as a feminist scholar is evident here, daring to confront the challenges of solo parenting while exploring the complexities of the female body as simultaneous subject and object of a painter’s gaze.

Yiskah Rosenfeld is the author of Tasting Flight (Madville Books, 2024), finalist for the Arthur Smith Prize and the Wheeler Books Prize. She holds an MFA in creative writing from Mills College. A Pushcart Prize nominee, awards include the Anna Davidson Rosenberg Award and the Reuben Rose Memorial Prize. Poems appear in The Bitter Oleander, Lilith Magazine, December Magazine, RATTLE, Wild Gods: An Anthology of Ecstatic Poetry, and elsewhere. She served as poet-in-residence on the Arad Arts Project in Israel and the Brandeis Collegiate Institute in California. Yiskah currently balances solo parenting with teaching writing workshops around the San Francisco Bay Area.

http://www.yiskahrosenfeld.com/

PRAISE FOR Naked Beside Fish by Yiskah Rosenfeld

Yiskah Rosenfeld’s marvelous ekphrastic-themed poems turn a poet’s eye on paintings and a painterly eye on the details of her own life. “Look and you’ll find me/an upside down angel in white,” she writes, finding herself in a Chagall painting. Brushstroke by brushstroke she builds a narrative of longing and listening in which inscape and landscape merge.

–David Shaddock, author of The Book of Splendor and Poetry and Psychoanalysis: The Opening of the Field.

In this evocative chapbook, Yiskah Rosenfeld does the magic of translation, taking readers inside works of art. In her hands, Robert Rauschenberg’s “White Paintings,” already transmogrified from canvas to music by John Cage, now enter the realm of poetry, or at least its promise, in the opening poem “Poetry Submission Guidelines.” The stark white canvas, white page, and ambient sound become our way into this collection. These are fully embodied, visceral poems that do not shy away from the pleasures and the challenges of bodies, especially the gestating body and its beauty.

–Laura Levitt, professor of religion, Jewish studies, and gender at Temple University, author of The Objects that Remain (2020).

Wordworks inspired by Kahlo, Klee, and other twentieth-century artists aside, what Naked Beside Fish brings to ekphrastic poetry is the incorporation of canvas-dynamic locales. A studio in Jerusalem creates “ladders of light angling through your morning windows.” A Sausalito museum annotates “That xylophone wind / awakening the pines.” Self-portraiture is a several-paletted thing. On Rosenfeld’s easel it’s an ultrasound, constellation-assisted journaling, “Bones under skin, gathered and sacked like garlic.” Rosenfeld’s chapbook masterclass attracts patrons for seasons to come.

–Jon Riccio, author of Agoreography (2022)

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems

[gawrkin]

Because the idea bug continues to bite me and I've let my thoughts stew, here's more concepts to throw in the Mirror Universe pot:

The Dames of the Round Table are not warrior-women, but powerful and intelligent sorceresses Miracle-working wisewomen (*wink, wink*). Sagely ladies who go travel around, defeat various foes and aid those in need using cleverness instead of brawn, meeting each other during festivals, and compete against each other using trickery and enchantment. It's sort of a cross between Magical Girls and the Mystical Wandering Ascetics/Saints. (*There's actually some synergy with real life Celtic Christianity)

Morgan herself is still raised in a convent, learning magic, theology and natural philosophy and is a kind of Virgin Mary-esque figure. Like regular Arthur, Morgan is ignorant of her royal heritage until she performs a miraculous act* that has her crowned as Maiden Queen of Logres, to the distaste of Older Queens who rebel against her. (*I haven't figured out would be the sword-in-the-stone equivalent should be)

Sebile, as stated before, is basically the Sir Kay equivalent. She is Morgan's sworn sister-in-arms from the convent and was the greatest and most powerful member of the round table with many cool abilities, only to be nerfed and humiliated by the heroines of later stories, like Dindraine.

Similarly, other enchantresses, like the Queen of Norgales, Brisen, Annowres, Hellawes, etc. fulfill analoguous roles to the male counterparts.

Of course, Guinevere is the Lancelot analogue, with everything that implies.

Nimue/Vivien is, naturally, the Merlin to Morgan's Arthur. The unique spin here is that Nimue is one of the few warrior-women in this universe. She's an elderly fairy amazon, ala Scathach, who advices and protects Morgan mostly through martial prowess rather than magic. Tragically, she falls in love with a young clerk named Merlin, whom she teaches martial arts but its betrayed when Merlin ties her to rock and thrown into a lake to get away from her improper affections.

Merlin becomes the Wild Man/Lord of the Wood who protects Morgan from Arthur's assaults and helps the Dames from time to time.

Arthur is Morgan's brother who opposes her, also learning Martial arts from Nimue, leading him to become a powerful, superhuman, otherworldly warrior and terrorist who traps many unwitting ladies in his many domains, raiding and pillaging many kingdoms. You can imagine him as basically your prototypical dark lord with a Celtic theme, complete with spikey horned helmet.

Arthur is so powerful, being able to uproot trees, toss boulders, knock down castles, cause earthquakes with his footsteps and breath fire. He's so terrifying, many liken him to a godlike demonic monster, leading to his name Arthur la Guivre (Arthur the Viper/Dragon).

Arthur la Guivre is very promiscuous, having many lovers and trying to seduce various ladies, especially Guinevere, whom he has an affection for.

The Knights of the Round Table basically become the Wild Hunt in this AU. The sound of their horses as they ride through the sky resembles thunder and the howling winds, their weapons are so shiny and flash like lightning. They're terrifying shadowy horsemen and quasi-ogre-like monsters who elude the Dames efforts to maintain Order.

They're also rarely named: The King of Brittany, the King of Wales, The King of the Glass Island and King of the Wasteland, Lord of the Fens, etc.

Sometimes, Arthur himself is called Lord of the Wood. He's lives in a Paradisical Realm in a Cave under a Mountain that he takes Morgan to after the Battle of Camlann and the Fall of Camelot.

As result of his might, Arthur is often beaten by the Dames via trickery and indirect means, getting hoodwink and his plans foiled.

The chief religious artifact the Dames of the Round Table search for is the Holy Clau or the Holy Rood. It's has some ambiguous relationship to either the Claimh Solais or the Spear of Lug, but generally speaking, its either the Cross that Jesus was crucified on or its the nail that pierced his hands and feet. It was brought on over to Britain by St. Elen, who becomes the matriarch to many noble families and siring the Rood Queens. Bonus points if the topic of Christ's-wounds-as-a-vagina is brought up.

The three Rood Dames are: Dindraine (the original heroine of the religious quest), Melora (Guinevere's daughter and the fancy new uber-idealized heroine) and one of Guinevere's cousins (Jandree, Eliabel, etc.)

Lancelot and Guinevere still get into an affair.

Lancelot still gets kidnapped a lot.

THIS time its Guinevere who becomes feral at some point lol

Guinevere's seminal adventure is Lady of the Sack, where Guinevere has to disguise herself by wearing a dirty old sack (a common punishment for female criminals), getting rotten fruit thown at her and humiliated in order to rescue Lancelot.

Arthurian Mirror/Role Reversal AU, where Morgan is the Once and Future Queen, leader of the Dames of the Round Table, who search for the Holy Clau or Holy Rood.

Meanwhile Arthur becomes the Supernatural Raider/Wild Man called "Arthur la Guivre", who terrorizes Morgan's kingdom but ultimately rescues his sister after the final battle, bringing her over to his Otherworldly realm under a Mountain.

Sebile becomes the Sir Kay of this AU.

[lenaellsi]

Please tell me about your pre-canon Wilde headcanons!! (gen)

You've unlocked my secret dialogue option. Sorry

-oscar grew up a middle child, with an older brother he clashed with often and a little sister he loved to pieces

-he was terrifyingly intelligent, especially with languages and books, and by the time he was ten had taught himself french, dwarvish, japanese, and (to his parents' horror) as much latin as he could get his hands on

-he was also insufferable. "precocious" is probably the word, though it's definitely not strong enough.

-he started studying bardic magic around 11, mostly by accident. his stories, his lies, his songs--they were enough to bend the Weave around him without intention. of course, even at a young age, he was never one to let a potential advantage go to waste, so he began to experiment until he could reliably cast level one spells and cantrips

-he was disowned and kicked out at 15 for being Too Much (too dramatic, too talkative, too clever) and was taken in by an elderly relative who enjoyed his storytelling enough to give him a place to stay. he continued his studies and was admitted to oxford at 17 on scholarship, double-majoring in literature and bardic studies

-he immediately became the center of attention at university, equally loved and hated by teachers and fellow students. everyone knew him, and more importantly, everyone knew he was a good person to know--a good friend to have, if only to get an edge in exams, and a good student to teach, if only to quietly swipe ideas and publish them as your own

-he received a modest inheritance from his elderly relative that allowed him to live well, and in the last two years of his studies he began submitting for publication to make some money on the side. he specialized in satire and political commentary, because he had Opinions, and because he was funny.

-one of these pieces was a biting critique of the meritocratic system.

-he was taken from his bed two days later.

-as everyone did, the meritocrats recognized his potential usefulness, so guivres offered him an ultimatum: commit to a career in her office after completing his studies, or be quietly disappeared.

-wilde took the deal.

-from that point on, before the brand burned into his back had even healed, his personal writing projects were carefully monitored--novels, plays, poetry, those were all fine, provided they didn't portray the meritocrats in a negative light. he tried, for a few years, to work within the rules, but after a while, he stopped writing anything that wasn't paperwork.

-or journalism! because that was the dragons' plan for him--a carefully positioned agent among the upper classes, able to spin public opinion in any useful direction and seamlessly ingratiate himself into the right inner circles. one day would be spent 'researching' for an article exposing the secrets of a noble who was getting a little too comfortable complaining about the dragons to his powerful friends, the next would be spent making himself the life of a very important party, whispering secrets in the right ears.

-and despite everything, sometimes wilde even enjoyed it. it was challenging work, and he excelled at it, enough to rise quickly to become one of guivres' closest agents. there was something alluring about the power, the control, the blind adoration

-but he was aware--and was reminded, often enough to necessitate the removal of open-backed shirts and dresses from his wardrobe--that mistakes were unacceptable, and no amount of work would ever be enough.

-he had friends. lovers, occasionally, though more often than not they were for work, not pleasure. part of him, a part that irritated him greatly, was determined to love.

-a decade passed. he was untouchable, known in every city and in every social circle that mattered. guivres considered him one of her most valuable assets.

-and then thomas fucking edison blew up his mansion and lost a weapon of mass destruction.

you all know how i think the early events of canon go: wilde finds out that this extremely sensitive mission has been outsourced to a group of nobodies, is like "guess i have to do fucking everything myself" and puts on his sexiest little suit to go check them out. there's about a 50/50 chance that the london rangers don't walk out of that encounter--luckily, he likes sasha and zolf enough to take them on as contractors. doesn't stop him from ripping bertie apart in the papers, but that serves a dual purpose too--if the party is a joke, they can't be a threat, and they can't attract negative attention from the cult of hades or the harlequins or anyone else who is after the simulacrum. he hopes.

(he's wrong.)

(he needs to stop hoping.)