#If you worship this patron god of nature you too can be blessed with the camera man’s immortality

[eyesthecolorofarson]

DpxDc demon twins AU where Danny is basically fishingarret on YouTube. If you haven’t seen him he’s this psychopath of a man that walks barefoot in Florida and other dangerous places like Australia and the Amazon and removing invasive species. He does this by picking them up with his bare hands. This man feels so fear. He willingly poked a wasp nest. He tackled a 15ft python. And every time he picks something up he says yoink. Danny ‘already dead’ Fenton being left in Florida instead of Ohio

[sacrifical-lamb-core]

The three-faced Neptune.

This is a very loose interpretation and the fruit of my fantasies, please do not take it seriously and just enjoy it if you like it.

if not, I sincerely apologize :)

The Romans called Neptune a three-faced god, who in himself has the opposite nature, a god who radically changes from how he is worshipped and what people need him for. at first it was Neptune Rhei, Neptune of Astartes, the kind young god of fresh water and rain, the beloved son of the breadwinner Saturn, who gave to quench thirst and life to mortals. He is also the patron saint of agriculture, the god of hunting and a skilled archer, bathed in sunlight and moonlight, a defender of children and their mothers, supporter of the arts and crafts, gentle-hearted healer and comforter, - It was a rather chaotics domains, but he was a young god who was looking for something he could love and own. He was content and happy, he was worshipped, he loved his domain. But then the Romans came and later he was connected to Poseidon, sea god. But people remember Neptune Rhei, Neptune of Astartes even when there is a sea neptune and they continue to worship him, asking for fresh water to drink/rain for their crops or protection of their children, he continues to exist but in a separate hypostasis. Thus appeared Neptune Maris, Neptune of Lucretites, - cruel god of the indifferent sea, the son of Saturn who ate his children and the brother of Jupiter, who freed them. He is almost not worshipped and despised with fear, but he is too indifferent to worry about this - the Romans sacrifice bulls to him when there is no other way out and they have to sail the sea in the hope of at least a little appeasing him and they transfer coins to his few temples when they participate in horse races or they need any kind of help with horses. this is enough to exist and Neptune is satisfied as much as he can in his all-consuming apathy. Then the Romans open a naval trade and want to create a battle fleet, Neptune is changing again this time with some relief. Now he is Neptune Gratius, Neptune of Misentes - Neptune is the god of the benevolent sea, giving his blessing and gentle current for trade and conquest, he is the god of war, loving dogs and horses, carrying a golden sword, throwing it at the land that needs to be conquered. God of commerce who cares on an equal footing with his nephew Mercury. He is a great strategist, guiding the Romans with his clear mind, an adviser to his brother Jupiter, he becomes the god of military wisdom, and he loves freedom, loves his freedom, which seek to take away from him. Now the Romans are getting satisfied with Neptune. But some still remember Neptune Maris and bring him bulls and coins, from now on he also exists in a separate hypostasis. all three Neptunes continue to exist in separate hypostases but in one body. He changes when he is prayed to and sacrifices are made when the Romans need it. Neptune becomes a three-faced god, a god of the opposite nature to himself, a god who changs from how he is worshipped. Neptune is three-faced, changing like the flow of waters.

Could you comment if you like it? I will be grateful to you for this

Wow!!! How is this like basic this is really well fleshed out :))))) I like it, his children are probably all very different at different times, mood swings a lot

[paperanddice]

Gugs are massive, unnatural monstrosities that are spreading through the Underworld. Massive, with horrible vertically aligned mouths that cross the top of their head and arms that split into two separate hands at the elbow, they can squeeze through impossibly tight spaces for their 16 foot tall frames. They aren't merely strange giants; their bodies are physically different from others, with unrecognizable organs and the traces of having come to this world from some other realm entirely. Near universally they worship strange powers, rejecting all the gods and turning their veneration to bloody concepts and true nightmares, which they gleefully conduct bloody rituals for. Those captured by the gugs do not live long, rent limb from limb in horrific manner over altars to forgotten things. Some gugs gain additional power from these patrons, magics that mark them as special, and these savants quickly rise to leadership among the giants. The nastier specials listed provide some good options for a savant, but feel free to add your own magics to showcase their blessings.

Gug Large 8th level wrecker [aberration] Initiative: +10 Claw +14 vs. AC (2 attacks) – 25 damage. Dual Hit: If both claws hit during the same turn, the gug can make a horrid bite attack as a free action. [Special Trigger] Horrid Bite +16 vs. AC – 50 damage. Furious Claws: As a standard action, the gug can make four claw attacks, each against a different target. These attacks can hit nearby targets. It can’t trigger dual hit when it uses this action. Wall Climber. AC 23 PD 21 MD 18 HP 292 Nastier Specials C: Unholy Blight +14 vs. MD (1d4 nearby enemies in a group) – 40 negative energy damage. Natural Even Hit: The target is also dazed (save ends). Invisibility: As a standard action, the gug can turn invisible until it makes an attack. The gug takes 1d10 damage each time it uses invisibility while staggered.

Hangman trees get their name for their tendency to catch and strangle passing prey, transferring corpses into the interior of their trunk where every bit of the rotting body is caught for nutrients, allowing the trees to live on even the most barren ground. These trees linger in areas of high traffic catching a few animals with its lashing vines before retreating a bit further away to feed. They will attack people just as viciously as animals, responding to the movement and sounds made regardless of the source, though they rarely go after larger targets. Anything bigger than a horse is simply too big for the tree to eat.

Hangman Tree Large 4th level spoiler [plant] Initiative: +5 Vulnerable: Lightning Vine +8 vs. PD (3 attacks; can target nearby enemies) – 4 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target pops free from each enemy and moves next to the hangman tree, which engages and grabs it. While grabbed, the target also takes 10 ongoing damage. C: Hallucinatory Spores +8 vs. MD (2d3 nearby enemies) – The target can’t attack the hangman tree or attempt to escape from its grab (save ends). Natural Even Hit: The save becomes a hard save (16+). Limited Use: 1/battle. Slow: The hangman tree moves very slowly. It takes it 2 move actions to cover the distance of a normal move. AC 20 PD 16 MD 14 HP 122

Inspired by the Pathfinder 1e Bestiary 2. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

[dailycharacteroption]

Prestige Class Spotlight 12: Mystery Cultist

The term “cult” has come to, in the modern age, refer to monstrous phenomenon in which certain persons gain power over a group by using psychological manipulation and the human desires for fulfillment and structure. However, this is not the only use for the word. It can, particularly when referring to ancient religion, also refer to secretive religions, particularly when referring to Ancient Greek and Roman faiths.

Such “Mystery Cults” were called such because they did not share their rituals and goings-on with outsiders, making them a mystery not only to the people that lived in the same era, but also the historians who have the misfortune of trying to piece this knowledge together centuries later.

Today’s subject errs on the latter side of things as it centers around individuals that follow the mystery cults of the various goodly Empyreal Lords: celestial demideities drawing from angels, archons, agathions, azatas, and the rare unclassified demigods.

Now, some of you may ask why a religion devoted to a goodly demideity would keep itself secret. This could be for any number of reasons. Some may be cults located in regions where evil gods reign, or they may simply recognize that many mortals are unfamiliar with more than a handful of Empyreal Lords, and may be understandably suspicious of those who claim to worship a being that is not a god they are familiar with.

Of course, these mystery cultists need not actually be mystery. Nothing in the mechanics requires it, after all, so you are free to use this prestige class for those that are more open about their religion as well.

On that note, however, it should be noted that this will be one of the last of the Obedience-focused prestige classes we do, as we are running out. (Faster than I thought, too. Turns out I actually have done the sentinel prestige class, so the classic “True Deity” obedience prestige classes are all done now, though I might one day redo that entry as part of my revision specials should I feel the need to.

In any case, these devotees might follow a being that is less than a true deity, but their faith is just as strong.

Naturally, this prestige class has prerequisites, requiring the subject to have considerable knowledge of celestial lore, offer obedience to one of these celestial demigods, and perhaps most important of all, have had a spiritual awakening due to direct contact with a celestial being, such as being blessed or saved by one.

Like most prestige classes with a bit of magic, those that follow this path continue to learn their magic at only a slightly lossy rate. What’s more, they learn to master the favored weapon of their deity if they don’t already.

Utterly devoted to celestial beings as they are, these beings gain a fast track to their appropriate afterlife reward upon death in a benevolent parallel to how the fiendish counterpart classes are damned upon death. What’s more, they get to meet their patron and ask questions of them, answers to which they retain if they are brought back to life.

Naturally, however, the powers of this path are bound to the obedience of the cultist, requiring them to perform daily rituals to maintain these powers.

These devotees are blessed by a celestial being, and with effort they can let that truth shine through, bolstering their confidence but also overwhelming and frightening those that look upon them.

Like all archetypes of this type, these mystics gain boons for their obedience at an accelerated rate. The exact nature of these abilities and blessings varies by the Empyreal Lord they follow, creating a lot of variance.

With a touch, these blessed individuals can heal others, leaving a mark of their deity on the recipient of their healing which lasts the whole day.

As one favored by the empyreal lords, these individuals can also count on celestials to aid them, summoning various celestials that grow in power as they do. These might be from a generic list or be tailored to the nature of their celestial patron.

They can also enter a state of fervor to bolster both their combat and spellcasting abilities for a brief while, though they can seem maddened to others as a result.

Powerful mystery cultists find their bodies are warded against corruption of the flesh, making them resistant to disease and poison. What’s more, their bodies do not decay, remaining pristine for a long while so that they might be resurrected more easily. This same protection also makes it impossible to raise them as the undead.

The most powerful of these blessed mystics earn their own private domicile within their deity’s realm, allowing them to shift to that location and back to where they were at will, creating an otherworldly safe haven they can come back to whenever they and their allies need rest, untouchable save for the most powerful and determined forces of evil.

Like all obedience-themed prestige classes, your exact build will vary based on what your previous class was and what sort empyreal lord they followed, but the ability frighten foes, heal, buff oneself, and summon celestial allies are all powerful tools for combat, and it makes for a fun, thematic take on this formula we’ve all become quite familiar with at this point.

Empyreal Lords, being demideities, are more likely to have direct contact with the mortals that worship them than a true deity, so there is the possibility, however remote, for mortal characters, especially those of this prestige class, to have a personal relationship with such entities. What exactly comes of that can be interesting to explore, depending on how things go, of course.

The devotees of the Time Warden seek to prevent others from meddling with the timestream, even traveling through the timestream to do so. However, in the process they themselves often become accused, rightfully so, of changing the timeline themselves. As such, the faith is an underground one, but they continue their holy mission regardless.

For weeks, Lukis Gemcutter has been sneaking out of the house at night. To where, his neighbors know not, but they suspect the gnome is up to no good. However, the truth of the matter is that he has been inducted into the faith of an Empyreal Lord and patron of secret protectors, though his lack of subtlety threatens to expose the cult.

The cult of the Shining Ambassador has remained a secret for many generations, but there is one witness that might break that streak if it understands what it has learned, for one member unwittingly brought a shapeshifting rope dragon to a meeting, making the curious creature privy to their secret rituals.

[hadeskitchen]

out of the Greek pantheon, who would each RO pick as their patron deity? Or alternately, would certain deities pick out ROs to bestow favor upon?

Funny you should ask this. In HK the gods do provide favors and, when you start, MC can choose which god was their patron, if any (and can gain additional favors over the course of the game). So, this becomes part of the story but I think I can answer without spoiling anything for the ROs. :)

But first (providing some lore for context), in this world the gods of Olympus intentionally remain faceless and nameless to their worshippers. The classic Greek pantheon is referred to as The Twelve and all olympian gods are referred to by their titles and/or epithets (like The King, The Sun, The Scholar, etc.). This allows them to live amongst mortals with little to no suspicion. (For example, people don't know that Hermes, a TV show host and mega-celebrity, is The Messenger, or that Aphrodite, a lifestyle guru and makeup mogul, is The Lover).

You can read more about the gods in the HK lore bible, Hades' Guide.

Okay, back to the question:

Shar Patil

Shar had a great interest in religion and they "shopped around" over the years. By the end of their life, they considered themself a casual follower of The Forge (Hephaestus). Despite the passive nature of their devotion, they're still one of his favorites and they have the gift of The Forge.

Cecil Gray

They were raised in an extremely religious environment dedicated to The Sun (Apollo), but Cecil was an atheist at the time of their death. They're favored by the chthonic gods (the gods of the Underworld), because the chthonics hate the olympians so they like people who didn't worship them.

K Ishida

Raised by and around farmers, K began worshipping The Harvest (Demeter) as a teenager and remained a devout follower throughout their life. They were - and are still - one of her favorites meaning they have the blessing of The Harvest.

T Sarpong

Can't go into their religious history too much. I can say that they spent a long period of their life as a maenad so they're a favorite of The Outcast (Dionysus), the only major god worshipped across Olympus who is not one of The Twelve. T has the power of The Outcast.

Hero of Thebes

A satyr raised by Arcadian satyrs, their family worshipped many gods such as The Wild (Pan) and The Outcast. Hero, however, was a devout worshipper of The Scholar (Athena) and remains one of her favorites, granting them the insight of The Scholar.

Adonis

Dude's a god, but, in addition to his own favor, Adonis is favored by the chthonic gods (because he's been raised as one), his aunt, Hecate, his mentor, The Messenger (Hermes), and his second mother The Lover (Aphrodite).

[i-mybrunettelady]

Headcanon time: Blessings of the human gods

Okay okay I may have gotten myself hyped from the post @synchrosgw2 made about Lyssa (check here!!!) and though it’s god-related, it’s not about that theory, but yeah, inspo where inspo’s due.

But I did have thoughts about how being blessed by a certain god/dess manifests in real life. I hc there’s a social ritual of joining a church and declaring yourself blessed by that particular god at the age of 8; this is because most gifts manifest themselves by that age and if they haven’t, you kinda pick one (and changing churches if you’ve made a mistake is a bit of a pain in the ass honestly and involves tons of new ritualistic stuff.) There’s a grand celebration (if you can afford it) and there are families for whom this blessing is hereditary, or so it socially stands; this is most prevalent in priestly families and to give you an example, Nyra was named after her mother’s late cousin, Alysannyra Gwent, and lady Gwent was born in a family that mostly worships Lyssa -> her name being Alysannyra (which is translated as “to Lyssa (be) the glory.”) But this is social rules, not actual magical thing.

So how does it magically play out? Spoilers for PoF.

Simple. Enhanced abilities to do something that technically belongs in that god’s realm. Let’s see how this works on my two humans, Nyra and Ren.

1) Nyra was blessed by Lyssa, even if you’d not be too far off if you thought she was blessed by Dwayna due to her guardian magic (I hc there’s a link between Dwayna and light, hence her being a guardian deity.) Lyssa is usually associated with mesmers and water elementalists, illusion, water and beauty, but also chaos, and that’s where Nyra’s gift is. She thrives in chaos to a degree that’s not quite natural. She has a much easier time making sense in chaotic/high stress situations (even if she’s not immune to the effects of too much stress, as seen in Icebrood.)

Chaos also seems to be radiating off her; a combination of being a chaos-magnet and her personality brought about the disruption of the natural world order. As subtle as this gift is, it’s not without it’s impact.

2) Due to being an illusion-based mesmer, Ren thought for a long ass while her goddess was Lyssa too. But it took a trip to Abaddon’s temple in season 3 (a rewrite of the horrible Livia situation I’m working on that features gods sending visions, Nyra and Ren working together, maybe some Mirka in there too) for her to realise that no, her patron god was Abaddon all along; for all his death, he still affects some mortals by the residue power in the world that survived, what, 2 centuries after his death.

And it manifests in her ability to hide the truth aka lie. She is an exceptional liar. If we were to compare her and El, who are both great at lying, Ren beats him  because of this. You can’t really catch her tells and she seems to have an ability to track her own lies in a way that would fool 99% of the population. Again, it’s a combo of this + her personality that makes her so good at her job.

So, someone who was blessed by Balthazar might have an earned reputation of being unbeatable on the battlefield; someone blessed by Dwayna could be very very good at healing, Melandru could be very good at being a hunter to the point of being able to parallel norn, etc.

Does this mean that by Balty dying humanity was bereft of these gifts? No! Like with Abaddon, the number of people with Balty’s gifts will only be smaller, not non-existent, and other gods are still around and kicking, though priesthood of Balthazar would like to say otherwise. This is their main point for Nyra being a traitor of humankind but it’s like,, factually incorrect.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

if you don't mind explaining, I'd personally like to hear about Avian beliefs

I’m like deeply upset because I began working on this and it didn’t save. And there’s like a lot to say. Damnit.

Anyways.

The Avian Gods (Also titled the Old Gods for fancy reasons)

I’m only doing the main five, because fucking hell there’s loads. Also like they’re the only ones I’ve given names so far… so…. Shhhh

Haton, The God of Fertility, Animals and Health.

Haton is one of the most worshipped gods, because he’s awfully useful. Fertility for crops, and healthy babies, as well as more livestock. Animals for food. Health is just a general thing people like to have, y’know. However, besides those three things, he’s also classified as both a war god and a love god. He’s a Jack of all Trades type.

He is said to have a range of abilities, including healing the sick, bringing back the newly deceased, speaking to animals, manipulating plants and have everyone love him. That’s not a joke. One of his powers is that people are naturally more inclined to love him than they are hate him, and people often start off very interested in him when they first meet. He’s also really unlikeable sometimes so he’s lucky he’s got that power or he’d have no friends.

He is usually depicted as tall (especially by avian standards) with dark hair, golden eyes and a very pretty face.

In all depictions of him, a dragon can be seen behind him. It was believed that he would send down a dragon to help people win wars and stuff. But dragons still aren’t real.

Bytrix, The goddess of Blood, Nightfall and War.

She’s surprisingly not that scary. She’s often worshipped during times of war, or when people have petty feuds that they wish to end with the unfortunate demise of the other, however she is also worshipped often during the summer, where the days are far too long and people beg for night, or during the winter when there is too much night.

She has a range of abilities, including the ability to manipulate blood, curse people, start wars and cast an area of land in complete darkness. Unlike Haton, people often fear her when they first meet her due to the cruelty she has displayed in the past, however she is actually quite nice.

She is often shown to have pure black hair and eyes, matching the black robes she wears. She’s tall and thin, and has a very pretty face.

She’s usually depicted wearing wolf furs, or being accompanied by wolves, as she is the patron god of wolves. So.

Paasis, the goddess of Travellers, Thunder and Song

Paasis is another highly worshipped god, after all she is one of the main five. She’s usually only worshipped by bards and travellers however, but as they are abundant in Ru’aun, especially back in the days of Avians, she had a lot of followers. She was thought to bless travellers with safe voyages, give thunder as a warning of bad weather and be the origin of music.

Her rumoured powers include probability manipulation, weather manipulation, luck manipulation, and the ability to hypnotise and lure people in with her song. Sounds like someone got a bit close to a siren to me, but who am I to say anything?

She’s shown to be average height (for an avian. So. Short) with curly brown hair usually tied up into a pony tail and dark brown eyes. She is rather chubby and has a baby face.

Her animals are snakes. Because there’s a whole tale about them. It’s hard to explain.

Daarae, God of Jokes, Riches and Autumn.

Daarae is worshipped by everyone for obvious reasons. Especially Travellers, Bards and Jesters.

He is said to be able to intoxicate people with his mere presence, and make even the goddess Bytrix laugh. He can also bless anyone with riches and bring about the affects of autumn with ease.

He’s never seen in a painting, or tapestry, or anything, without Bytrix there also. Some tales have them in love, some say that she is there to balance him out. No one really knows for sure.

He’s the one rumoured to have created the Meif’wa. Because he can actually do that. And that was probably also his motivation to make them. Because he can.

He’s always depicted the same way. Dark hair, bright purple eyes and scars hidden by his robes.

He is the patron god of Lizards because they’re his favourite.

Ieus, god of Change, Disease and Death.

Almost all tales and drawings of him are completely different, however one this remains the same in all depictions. He’s a whore. But that’s okay he’s a god they’re all rather slutty. Especially Haton but we don’t need to get into that today.

And that’s it. There’s obviously a lot more detail I could go into, and I would, but I just woke up, I can’t save this post to my drafts to finish off later and honestly I can’t be bothered. So this is what you get for now.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Baphomet, Demon Lord of Brutality, and his Cults. 

Since I’m going to be using this demon lord as the driving influence for several future adventures, I figured it’d be a good idea to write up “my version” of the character and post it on this blog.  If you’re interested in WHY/HOW my version differed from the original, feel free to click the “read more” link for a full breakdown of my process. 

Background:  Baphomet, the horned lord,  king of bloodied conquest, is the demon lord of brutality, and the embodied spirit of power overcoming all restraints. His cult spreads among individuals who wish to use their personal strength to dominate the weak, as well as those who covet such strength for themselves. 

Baphomet rose to prominence a scant few millennia ago, stealing his seat of power from a demon-lord of magic and cunning who sought to bind the great power he possessed for his own. The seed of Baphomet’s mythos was born when he used that power to break free and slay his rival, taking his labyrinthine domain and status as a king of hell for his own. 

Adventure Hooks: 

Baphomet commands his worshipers to prove their strength over those that would constrain them. His adherents are famous for constructing arenas where they can prove their mettle against challengers and captured beasts. The feircer the fight and greater the challenge, the stronger the victor must be, and thus more deserving of the Horned Lord’s gifts. Baphomet however is just as likely to bless those who defeat his unworthy petitioners, creating demon possessed beasts or unwilling oracles from those who fight their way out of these temple-arenas. 

Those who use their natural strength to oppress others may sometimes find themselves courted by the servants of Baphomet, promising to guide them to greater glories if only they would dedicate their victories to the king of bloody conquest. Many giants, warlords, orcs, minotaurs and others blessed with physical might fall prey to these “easy gain” plied with arms and blessings that slowly drive them to challenge Baphomet himself... exactly as the demon lord intended. 

The beast in the labyrinth loathes those who think skill or smarts can bend the world to their will, and delights in proving their infeiority by releasing vexing curses into the world for them to find. These curses often take the form of poisoned puzzleboxes, tomes that eat away at the mind like acid, labyrinths that shift and bury as they are explored, or treasure vaults full of traps that mangle those that try to “solve” them. 

Like most DMs who think too much about the game they love, I take issue with a lot of the assumptions built into D&D, and because I’m the type of DM who likes monsters and interesting villains, I have PARTICULAR beef (pun slightly intended) with how the game constructs its high level demon/devil lords. Conceptually these entities are supposed to be a pantheon of arch villains with enough  personality and dynamic potential to build a whole campaign around defeating them, but more often than not they’re more one note than the silver age rejects of batman’s rogues gallery, limited to a strict theme with maybe one or two quirks in their lore inherited from when a writer managed to cram them into an adventure. 

While they possess motivations and aesthetics that can often be boiled down to “ Evil and loves (something destructive and a particular kind of abstract badness) ”, these entities don’t make good villains for a number of reasons: 

In an attempt to make “ evil gods for evil creatures”, the original writers succeeded in making deities without an ethos that no one but idiots would worship. “ This is the demon-lady of decay, and if you worship her you get to rot forever in her mold-caves. She’s best friends with the Ooze-lord, who is the patron of evil amoebas... which is apparently a large enough demographic to rule a kingdom in hell.”

Deities of evil should be the centers of belief systems that ENCOURAGE PEOPLE TO BE EVIL, not just in a “sinister animal sacrifice and black metal aesthetic” sort of way, but evil in ways that promote real human cruelty that all characters are capable of and you can write real stories about. I made my version of Baphomet an embodiment of bullying, small mindedness, and ego. PLENTY of people have those traits, and many more have suffered because of them. 

The vanilla setup for demons and devils of the D&D universe is pretty dumb. They are infinite in number, and engaged in a constant war to be the “true” evil and operate vast planear process that turn every wicked soul that dies in any dimension into fodder for their ranks. This completely demystifies them as a threat, removing any thematic questions about the nature of morality, questions of good and evil, and even the existential questions about the existence of the afterlife. In vanilla d&d, there’s no need for philosophers: evil is not only a quantifiable system, it’s a location, YOU CAN WALK THERE.  

As I run it, demons are spirits of chaos and mischief, they represent mortal weakness run amok ( personal demons, get it?).  DEVILS I’ve found a very interesting place for as antagonists in my plots as they seek out wicked individuals to torment and punish for their misdeeds. This could be the party, but it could also just as easily be an influential NPC who cause stories to happen because they’re trying to avoid their just punishment. 

[ungrateful-cyborg-moved]

🙏- what are my muse’s theological beliefs? How complex are they? Are they religious, spiritual, or an outright atheist?

Oooh, interesting question!

(Long post ahead.)

Astrid, Wolfe and A’idan are fairly similar in beliefs and how much fervent they are. To them, gods are in the aether so basically all around them all the time. It doesn’t contradict the existence of other gods either but they revere the Twelve simply because it’s in their culture, they grew up with them and well, it wouldn’t make sense to them to do it any differently.

They’ll pray sometimes and for Astrid and Wolfe who were both adults at the time of the Calamity, they know of how Louisoix called the Twelve to his aid and how it apparently saved Eorzea so they’re more fervent than they used to be as kids and teenagers.

A’idan was too young to be bothered by that at the time. The Calamity itself left a much stronger impression. However, he lives in Limsa and the sea is dangerous. She claims lives often but she also gives them food and means to survive and prosper so he’s more fervent than them when he prays to his patron deity (Llymlaen) because survival is a lot more at the center of his thoughts and he intends to sail one day.

Now, about the others...

The Advocate is Ishgardian through and through and wouldn’t take it too kindly if outsiders were to criticize their relationship with Halone. Especially those who never lived in Ishgard and thus believe they understand while not actually knowing their culture.

That being said, he’s not a fanatic.

His relationship with Halone is conflicted for different reasons, whereas he outright hates the Church. It worth saying however that you gain little from ostracizing yourself though so he went to church like everybody else. Out of social obligation in his case, but still.

Religion is also everywhere in his life whether he likes it or not. He prays and thanks Halone in good part because it’s so ingrained in him that it’d feel weird not to do it but also because he does believe in Her.

She’s the goddess of war, though. Now that Ishgard has made peace with dragons and is trying to rebuild and find what it means for her, he often wonders what place Halone should have in all of this. Not the Church (which could burn as far as he’s concerned) but worship.

Again though, it’s not a matter he’d be willing to talk about with outsiders.

He’s a monk. To say that it matters a great deal to him is an understatement, especially since he’s fully trained. Skaar knows the rites, the scriptures and he follows them as much as he can.

That being said, he’s from the Sect of Shadow, which means that he was trained in secret as a kid to escape persecution from the Fist of Rhalgr and the King and since he fled to live in Limsa after that, Skaar has never been really vocal about his beliefs or everything surrounding them. He’s proud of his heritage and his own role as a monk but to him it’s a matter of respect. If you live in another country, you follow their customs (or enough of them to fit in, at least).

Kazan’s beliefs are pretty similar to hers so I won’t develop for both.

Inge believes that nature is sacred and spirits, or kamis, or elementals (which from her point of view are just different names for the same beings) are to be shown reverence to.

You can ask for their blessing but you must give something in return.

Keeping the natural balance intact is really at the center of her life. Pretty much everything she does is done with this in mind.

She also sees life as sacred (that’s where it differs from Kazan actually). Not so sacred that you can’t take any because being alive means something has to die for you to live on, be it plants or animals, but you must make good use of the life you sacrificed. Killing an animal to take only a small part of it and letting the rest to rot is typically something she’s strongly against. And obviously, don’t kill people unless you absolutely cannot do otherwise.

She also believes in reincarnation but from her point of view, what you’re reincarnated into as nothing to do with what you deserve for the life you’ve lived. It’s about what nature needs when you’re reincarnated and you can end up being of the Spoken races or a bug or an auroch without it saying anything about you. And she doesn’t believe in the notions of hells or heavens.

Hanae is an atheist. Kami worship bled through her education while she lived with her mother but she only internalized a few things and threw the rest out of the window during her time with her father, in Garlemald and later on, in the imperial army.

[Thanks for the ask @eligos-venator o/]

[moraldyad]

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝚂 𝙰 𝙳𝙴𝙸𝚃𝚈.

𝙶𝙾𝙳 𝙾𝙵 :     duality . medicine . justice . freedom . lies . violence . transformation . 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 :     the late nights spent toiling over something that one’s entire heart has been poured into , the fond smiles of a couple on their sunday stroll . bright eyes of young scholars who thirst for a knowledge greater than any , the soft drip , drip , drip of the iv hanging at a patient’s bedside . the gentle touch of a doctor or a nurse . crisp air , climbing out of a window at the midnight hours . the freedom that comes from simply running , the rush of adrenaline & thirst for revenge . the hushed whispers of a forbidden name .  𝚂𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 :     lavender . chamomile . oleander . belladonna . rosary peas . 𝚂𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚂 / 𝙶𝙴𝙼𝚂 :     garnet . jade . jasper . tiger’s eye . 𝚂𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙻 :      the bear . the serpent .  the raven . the wolf . the fox . the butterfly . 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚂 :     silver , yet tarnished . crimson . honey - gold . white . 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙳 :     pomegranate . apples . fine wines . herbal teas .  𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂 :    the ashen smell of a fire that has only recently burnt out . vanilla . the musty but comforting smell of old books found in the attic . the haunting smell of blood that leaves an odd iron taste in one’s mouth .  𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 / 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙾𝚁 :    he is an odd deity , where some see him as benevolent , others see him as cruel . perhaps this god with his dual nature was once two separate gods . after all , legends blend together in such odd ways . over time , he has become patron of both healers & murderers , two polar opposites . the savior of the virtuous & the duplicitous , it is also said he favors those with an unstoppable creative drive . depicted with two faces , the healer’s scepter in one hand , a blade stained with blood in the other , what he likes is as strange as his existence .

offer him well loved books , leave him research that you wish to finish , but have yet to find the answer ( & perhaps , he will give it ) . leave confession letters , they will be read . he will forgive you for your sins & urge you to continue , for your secrets are safe with him .

in london , there is a house now boarded up that often his followers will still enter . it is like stepping into the past . for all the ruin of the home on the outside , its well kept interior gives the sense that someone still lives . perhaps that is true . in this place , nothing spoken will be revealed outside its walls . here is the place where the virtuous & the depraved meet . a middle ground with no animosity , only the shared worship of this god of two worlds .

should one venture far enough , perhaps he will be found . there is a door , splintered with a broken lock , but there is a light that shines through . do not enter without knocking . he will ask your deepest desire . you must not lie to him , for he can tell . to the virtuous with wickedness in their hearts , he will appear as a wild red - haired youth , far too pale , a gaunt & unsettling person with a cheshire cat grin . to the depraved seeking redemption , he will appear as a handsome man entering the wintertime of his life , offering nothing but compassion . sometimes , he will not appear at all , but that is a symbol of inner balance . if he does not respond to your deepest desire , you must leave . that is his blessing to you , he has deemed you at peace with yourself .

if he wishes to see you in particular , he will send a messenger , a man in a suit , his name is poole . if poole appears , the god means no harm in his meeting . it is polite to follow , if you wish not to , you must respectfully decline . the god will know .

rarely does he truly bond with mortals , but it is not impossible . what a sight it would be , to see him , so out of place , but arriving on his own to meet someone outside his own abode — should he arrive , as the young man with the cheshire cat grin or the gentleman with the gentle gaze , it is a blessing . he will knock , give the name jekyll or hyde . let him in .

[crossroadsfossil]

For the fake title ask game : "and now I'm too big to forgive him"

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it

I would write about one of my favorite tropes: Accidental ascension to godhood. What would this entail? 

With the age of quirks coming to its zenith, people aren’t paying attention to what also leaks out. The old gods are dead, the old rivalries forgotten and there is a void in the cosmic heavens. You know what they say about nature and voids. 

The people who feel the strongest are the first to be affected. Quirks that are mutating, growing, changing. They grow from students and young adults into full-fledged heroes and villains, the country watching on in awe and wonder and fascination so close to worship. A joke is started - started as a way to encourage people to try their best turns into ‘Pray to Deku and he’ll bless you with determination’. 

More grow after that. 

Become a patron of Shigaraki and you’ll have the power of change at your fingertips, as terrible as it can be. Pray to Ochako, and you’ll be blessed with cleverness and bravery and conviction. Pray to the todoroki gods, and between the four children, you’ll be blessed with the ability to survive anything. Pray to the Magician and you’ll be able to save that which is most precious. 

Pray to the gods, and maybe they'll hear you. 

The actual plot would follow each of the characters as they ascend to godhood and the issues that arise from the trauma in their lifes and the relationships they have with each other. Rivalries and prior slights and injury are focused on, enhanced, blown up to become central to the very aspect of the gods. 

Tokoyami is always losing his grasp on his shadow, fracturing out into the world as a thousand tiny monsters that lurk in the shadows. Dabi is always hunting after his siblings, to spite a long dead father. Hawks is forever learning things that shouldn’t be learned, neither side trusting him. Bakugo and Midoriya are in a perpetual cycle of friends-enemies-rivals, the troubles they have growing and waning like the cycles of the moon. Twice is always losing himself and finding himself only for the cycle to happen again. 

Lots of found family tropes and ‘we’re going to make this work goddammit’ and ‘oh no you challenged the izuku friendship declaration.’ Add in a healthy dose of shipping and polyshipping and we’ll eventually have a functioning pantheon for the quirk era. 

[opera-simplified]

Opera Simplified #2: The Rake’s Progress

The Rake’s Progress

Opera Simplified #2

The Basics:

Music: Igor Stravinsky

Libretto: W.H. Auden and Chester Kallman

Premiere: September 11, 1951; Teatro La Fenice; Venice, Italy

Based on: William Hogarth’s eight-painting (later engraving) series A Rake’s Progress

Setting: England (mostly London), an unspecified point in the 1700s

Characters:

Tom Rakewell, a young man- tenor

Anne Trulove, his girlfriend- soprano

Nick Shadow, a devilish manservant [the libretto’s words, not mine]- bass-baritone

Baba the Turk, a bearded lady- mezzo-soprano

Trulove, Anne’s father- bass

Mother Goose, a brothel owner- contralto

Sellem, an auctioneer- tenor

Keeper of the Madhouse- bass

Requested by: @harry-leroy, who also very generously and enthusiastically read excerpts of this over—thank you!

The Opera:

Act I:

Scene 1:

A spring afternoon. The garden of the Trulove house in the countryside, with the house at right, a gate in the back, and a bunch of trees at left, where Anne and Tom are sitting together.

Anne: It’s May, and the whole world is enjoying the beauties of spring!

Tom: This is Venus’ season and she’s making everyone fall in love and helping restore the Age of Gold… **

Anne and Tom: How sweet it is to enjoy nature together!

*Trulove enters from the house and stands aside, watching Anne and Tom.*

Trulove: They look so happy and in love, and I really hope that’s the case and my fears don’t come true. We think we know everything when we’re young, and then we realize too late that we actually don’t, and I hope that doesn’t happen to my Anne…

Anne and Tom: WE’RE IN LOVE AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL AND WE’LL BE IN LOVE FOREVER

*Trulove steps forward.*

Trulove: Anne?

Anne: Yes, Dad?

Trulove: They need your help in the kitchen.

*Anne curtsies and goes inside. Trulove goes over to Tom.*

Tom, I talked to a friend of mine who lives in London, and recommended you to him, and he’s offered you a job at his counting house! ***

Tom: That’s very nice of you, and I don’t want to seem rude, but...I have other prospects.

Trulove: Son, you don’t have a job, and you’re not looking for one, and that worries me.

Tom: Look, I get it. But I assure you, Mr. Trulove, that your daughter will want for nothing if she marries me.

Trulove: My issue isn’t if you’re poor. If she wants a poor husband, that is fine by me, but no matter what, I will not let her take a lazy one, because she is too good for that. You understand?

Tom: Understood.

*Trulove goes inside.*

The old fool doesn’t get it! Here I am: I’m young, I’m happy, I’m in the prime of my life, and I’m supposed to waste the best years of my life in drudgery? I’m supposed to spend my life working just so some boss can become rich, I can barely survive, and ultimately I’ll just be thrown away and replaced with the next worker? No! Heaven has predestined our fates, so I will abandon myself to that. After all, if something is supposed to happen, just let it happen! I’ll live by my wits and trust my luck; the whole world is out there, just waiting for me...and I’ll live by my wishes. Like this one: I wish I had money.

*Nick immediately appears at the gate.*

Nick: Tom Rakewell?

*Tom, startled, turns around.*

Tom: Uh…

Nick: I’m looking for Tom Rakewell; I have a message for him. Is this his house?

Tom: No, but you’ve found him wandering in his thoughts and footsteps.

Nick: So you’re Tom Rakewell?

Tom: Indeed I am! Tom Rakewell, at your service.

*Nick bows.*

Nick: Nick Shadow, at your service, and ready to bear you a bright future. You recall an uncle, sir?

Tom: No? My parents never mentioned an uncle.

Nick: I think they had a falling out, sir. But...do you have any friends?

Tom: More: I have a wonderful girlfriend.

Nick: Lovely, sir. Go get her and anyone else who will listen.

*Tom runs into the house as Nick unlatches the gate and lets himself into the garden. Tom returns from the house with Anne and Trulove, and Nick bows to them.*

Forgive me for intruding, but I have a lot to tell you all. I once served Tom Rakewell’s uncle, who lived abroad for much of his life. I worked for him for many years, in many different trades, and he was very successful in all of them and became very wealthy, but all that wealth didn’t do him much good when he lay dying and dreamed of England and happiness. He did know about Tom, though, and figured the best use for his wealth would be to bequeath it all to his nephew. Well, he is dead. Tom, you’re rich.

Tom: I knew it! I made one wish, and Fortune made it come true. Shadow, sir, stay by me, would you?

Nick: Thank goodness, because without a master, I would soon die!

Anne: Thank God! We can get married soon!

Trulove: Thank God! And make sure that Tom never gets too big for his britches and that this doesn’t go south.

*Tom puts one arm around Anne and gestures outward with the other.*

Tom: Look, Anne, there’s no more obstacles and the world is ready and waiting for us!

Anne: And we’ll have peace and love forever!

Trulove: God bless you both!

Nick: I hate to burst your bubble, but there are new problems that come with such a large fortune: you have to get the inheritance approved and legally secured, and in order to do that, we have to go to London.

Tom: Those things can wait! I want to marry Anne.

Trulove: No, you should settle your estate and get it secured and then you and Anne can get married and have a secure future!

Anne: Dad does have a point, Tom.

Nick: There’s a coach waiting down the road.

Tom: Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!

Nick: I’ll get the coachman.

Trulove: And I’ll explain this whole situation.

*They go off together.*

Anne: Goodbye for now, but remember: whatever may happen and wherever you may go, my love will go with you.

Tom: I know you’ll always be with me. I love you.

Anne: Farewell!

*Nick and Trulove come back.*

Nick: Everything is ready, sir.

Tom: Shadow, sir, I’m not entirely sure how this works because I grew up very poor, so I’m wondering: what are your normal wages?

Nick: I’ll give you a year and a day to figure that out. On that day, we’ll settle our accounts and you will pay me no more and no less than what you think my services are worth.

Tom: Agreed. Mr. Trulove, as soon as my estate is settled, I’ll send for you and Anne to come to London. And when Anne gets here, all London will be at her feet, because I’ll make something of myself and London will be mine, and London will treasure my magnificent soon-to-be wife.

*Tom and Trulove shake hands as Anne, overcome with emotion, hides her face.*

Everything good waits for the one who can win the game.

Anne: I’m so happy but at the same time, I’m crying…

Trulove: I’m worried that this new comfort may lead to even more problems with him, but maybe it won’t…

Anne: Tom, I’ll always be near you, and you’ll always be near me…

*Nick lets Anne, Tom, and Trulove through the gate.*

Anne and Trulove: Goodbye, Tom!

*Nick turns to the audience.*

Nick: THE RAKE’S PROGRESS begins. ****

Scene 2:

An unspecified amount of time later, at Mother Goose’s brothel in London. Tom, Nick, and Mother Goose (not the one from the fairytales) are sitting at a table downstage right and drinking. Meanwhile, a bunch of roaring boys, prostitutes, and clients are hanging around. There is a cuckoo clock at upstage left. *****

Roaring Boys: WE JUST LIKE TO HANG AROUND AND ROAM THE STREETS AND GET INTO FIGHTS AND STUFF LIKE THAT

Prostitutes: WE’RE GREAT AT GETTING PEOPLE TO LOVE US AND GIVE US THEIR MONEY

Roaring Boys: WHAT’S BETTER THAN FIGHTING FOR NO REASON OR BASHING PEOPLE’S HEADS IN OR WHATEVER

Prostitutes: WE SURPRISE ALL KINDS OF GUYS AND WE CHARM THEM AND THEY GIVE US MONEY AND THAT’S HOW WE LIVE

Everyone: A TOAST TO OUR TWO FAVORITE GODS VENUS AND MARS

Nick: C’mon, Tom, show Mother Goose here what I’ve taught you in preparation for your new life and all its pleasures. So, what are you supposed to do above all else?

Tom: My duty to myself.

Nick: Isn’t he smart, Mother Goose?

Mother Goose: And handsome too.

Nick: What is that duty to yourself?

Tom: To scorn the advice of any who disapprove and follow Nature.

Mother Goose: What is Nature’s secret?

Tom: What beauty is and where it grows.

Nick: What is beautiful?

Tom: Whatever is pleasure for the eyes, but it has just one flaw: it dies.

Nick: Exactly!

Mother Goose: What is pleasure, then?

Tom: It’s different for every person, but it’s whatever someone wants it to be, whatever makes them happy.

Mother Goose: Bravo!

Nick: One final question: what is love?

Someone: WHAT IS LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE BABY DON’T HURT ME DON’T HURT ME NO MORE WHAT IS—

Mother Goose: NO ONE ASKED FOR THAT STUPID SONG

Tom: Love? That word burns every part of me…

Nick: No answer?

Tom: NO MORE

Mother Goose: Do you need more wine?

Tom: LET ME GO

Nick: Are you afraid?

*The cuckoo clock chimes one, and Tom gets up.*

Tom: BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE

Nick: WAIT

*He turns to the clock, which turns back and chimes twelve.*

See? Even time itself obeys you, so enjoy life! You can worry later.

*Tom sits down and starts drinking a lot of wine.*

Chorus: Who cares about time passing when we have food and drink and fun and love and the night?

*Nick gets up and indicates Tom.*

Nick: My friends, fellow worshipers at the Temple of Delight, it is my privilege to present a newcomer who wants to be initiated and as custom, will sing for you. He is young and rich and will be perfect for our group. I present my master and (if he will allow me to call him this) my friend, Tom Rakewell!

*Tom comes to the center of the room and sings.*

Tom: Love, you are too frequently betrayed in the name of desire or the world, and I’ll admit that I still dream of you. You are my sorrow and shame, and yet I always forget you, but please don’t forget me; if I die, in my last hour I will call upon you!

Prostitutes: It’s such a sad song, but it’s so charming! Forget your sorrows in our arms, in our lips—

Mother Goose: UH UH I’M THE LEADER AND I CALL DIBS ON HIM TONIGHT

*She takes Tom’s hand as the patrons form two lines, between which Tom and Mother Goose walk to get to the door on the back wall. Nick watches.*

Chorus: LANTERLOO LANTERLOO THE KING IS COURTING HIS QUEEN AND THEY’RE GOING TO BED AND HE’LL CHOP OFF HER “HEAD” IF YOU KNOW WHAT WE MEAN LANTERLOO LANTERLOO ******

*Nick raises his glass as if making a toast to Tom’s success.*

Nick: Sweet dreams, Tom!

Chorus: LANTERLOO LANTERLOO

Nick: Dreams may lie, but dream, for when you wake, you die.

Scene 3:

The same as Scene 1. Anne, dressed in traveling clothes, enters the garden from the house.

Anne: No word from Tom...has he forgotten my love, our vows? Regardless, he needs my help. I love him, and I can feel that he needs me, so I will go find him!

Night, find him wherever he is, and tell him I’m coming for him! And you, Moon, guide me and shine warmly for him; even if his heart is cold, you can’t be more cold for him, could you?

Trulove: *from inside the house* Anne! Anne!

Anne: Can I leave my father and his love behind for a man who’s deserted me?

*She starts walking back to the house, but then stops and turns.*

No! My father is strong, but Tom is weak. He needs me. He needs my comfort and he needs my help.

*She kneels.*

Dear God, protect Tom, help my father, and strengthen me.

*She gets up.*

I’ll go find him. Even if he’s forgotten me, I still love him and that’s not going to change, and if he still loves me we’ll pick back right up from where we left off. I’ll go find him, and love will help me.

*She goes through the gate.*

Notes

Act II:

Scene 1: 

Morning, some time later. A room in Tom’s house, which overlooks a busy London square. A window is open, letting in light and noise from the street. Tom is sitting and eating breakfast when a particularly loud blast of sound comes in; he gets up, annoyed, and shuts the window.

Tom: LET THERE BE SOME DIFFERENT NOISE FOR GOODNESS SAKE BECAUSE IT ALL JUST ANNOYS ME AND EVEN YOUR BEST MUSIC CAN’T FILL THE HOLE IN MY HEART

“Follow Nature,” they said. “It'll be great,” they said. I wanted to be free, but now I have no choice but to be a slave of fashion. The food and wine is overrated! Cards are stupid! And always with the women bringing by their daughters to talk about marriage! There’s only one truly good person in the world, and I refuse to think about her!

*He gets up.*

Well, the hunt is on! On and on we go, following Nature blindly! And happiness and freedom always evade me, and there are empty smiles everywhere and my heart is full of darkness!

*He sits down.*

I wish I were happy.

*Nick enters with a broadsheet in his hand.* **

Nick: Master, are you alone?

Tom: Don’t remind me.

Nick: *handing Tom the broadsheet* Do you happen to know this lady?

Tom: Baba the Turk! No, I haven’t gotten a chance to see her at the fair yet, but I heard that even brave soldiers faint at the sight of her. Is any of this even possible?

Nick: Well, two licensed doctors have said she’s the real deal. Do you want to go see her?

Tom: You’re up to something, aren’t you?

Nick: AT LEAST LOOK AT HER PICTURE

Tom: She’s ugly.

Nick: Do you desire her?

Tom: Ew, I desire her as much as I desire gout.

Nick: Do you even remotely like her?

Tom: Heaven forbid I do.

Nick: Then marry her!

Tom: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND

Nick: Look at it this way: everyone is wretched because they are a slave to either pleasure or conscience. The only way to be happy is to be a slave to neither, and since you don’t like Baba and since marrying Baba would be seen by society as a very odd thing to do, it’s perfect! You won’t have to worry about being a slave to anything, and you’d be free, and then you’d be happy! At least think about it.

Look: first, we’re all chasing girls; then, we chase wealth and rank; and then, when we’re old, we chase virtue. Always chasing something that is already fated to be. You need to step away from that and be free! Free from passion and reason alike! Well?

*Tom and Nick look at each other, and the former starts laughing, soon joined by the latter. They shake hands, and Nick helps Tom get dressed to go out.*

Tom: PEOPLE WILL TELL AND HEAR MY STORY FOREVER BECAUSE META AND ALSO BECAUSE WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT THAT I MARRY THE INTERNATIONAL CELEBRITY BABA THE TURK

Nick: Let’s make you look your best in order to win Baba the Turk, and then the whole world will love you. How does that sound?

Tom and Nick: WELL LET’S TRY TO WIN OVER BABA THE TURK

*They leave.*

Scene 2:

Autumn, dusk. A street in front of Tom’s house. A staircase of semi-circular steps leads up to the front door at center. The servants’ entrance is to the left; a tree to the right. Anne enters, hesitates for a moment, and then knocks on the front door. She sees a servant coming from the left and hides behind the tree until he passes.

Anne: My heart is brave, but I’m afraid—my mind just keeps screaming, “YOU’RE ALONE IN LONDON!!!! BE AFRAID!!! BE VERY AFRAID!!!” I need to be strong in order to find him and win his love back, though...Dear Lord, help me, but even if I have to go this one alone, I can and will win him back from damnation!

*She turns to go back to the door, but stops when she sees a procession of servants bearing oddly-shaped packages coming from the right. Night begins to fall.*

What? What is this? Whatever it is, I have a really bad feeling about it.

*Two servants bearing torches come in from the left, as well as other servants bearing a sedan chair.* ***

Oh, lights!

*The servants set down the chair and Tom gets out.*

It’s him!

*She runs over to Tom, who makes sure to stay a little way away from her.*

Tom: Anne? What are you doing here?

Anne: Well, look at you.

Tom: ACCUSE ME

Anne: Tom, no.

Tom: DENOUNCE ME TO THE WHOLE WORLD

Anne: TOM NO

Tom: GO HOME ANNE

Anne: ...Are you coming with me?

Tom: ME?! WITH YOU?!

Anne: I’m not leaving without you.

Tom: YOU HAVE TO

Let me not think about going back home!

Anne: I need to love him in order to have any chance of winning him over.

Tom: Anne, please, listen to me. I know you’re virtuous, and London is not the place for you. Virtue only exists on the surface and in the daytime here, Anne. Be afraid.

Anne: What do I need to fear, when I have your help and I love you?

Tom: My help? Look, London has ruined me. I am unworthy of you. Go home.

Anne: You still love me; you are worthy.

*Tom, moved, steps over to her.*

Tom: Anne!

*Baba the Turk, who is heavily veiled, sticks her head out of the sedan chair window.*

Baba: TOM YOU KNOW I NEED SOMEONE TO HELP ME OUT OF THIS AND I’VE BEEN WAITING IN HERE FOR PRACTICALLY FOREVER SO COULD YOU PLEASE FINISH UP WITH WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING THANKS

*She puts her head back in.*

Anne: Who’s that, Tom?

Tom: ...My wife.

Anne: your WHAT

...Oh. I see. So I’m the unworthy one.

*She turns away. Tom steps toward her.*

If only I had known then that it would turn out like this...oh well. If you’re not going to be faithful, then at least I will—forever.

Tom: It’s done, it’s too late, the world is dying, my heart is dying...I’ll bury my heart and never let it feel anything again!

*Baba pokes her head out again and sees Anne.*

Baba: C’mon, what’s the delay? And who’s that girl who’s keeping Tom occupied? Whoever she is, I’m getting more than a little annoyed with all this waiting. COME HERE TOM YOU KNOW I DON’T LIKE WAITING AND I DON’T THINK YOU WANT ME TO SUFFOCATE IN HERE

*Anne runs off, distraught.*

I’m still here, Tom. I haven’t run off.

*Tom helps her get out of the chair.*

Tom: I’m here, my wife.

Baba: Who was that girl, my love?

Tom: Just a maid.

*The doors open and several servants come out with torches as other servants take the chair away.*

Townspeople: *from offstage* BABA THE TURK IS HERE WE LOVE HER

*Baba begins to go up the stairs as the people pour onstage.*

BABA SHOW YOURSELF TO US

*Tom and Baba get to the top of the staircase. Tom goes inside the house as Baba sweeps around and removes her veil.*

BABA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*Baba blows them a kiss and keeps her hands outstretched like the great performer she is.*

Scene 3:

The same as Scene 1, except that Baba has now fully moved in and as a result, there are a bunch of oddities everywhere. Tom and Baba are eating breakfast; he’s sulking while she’s talking.

Baba: ...So yeah, there were two brothers and they both had mustaches and they gave me a really cool set of musical glasses in...Vienna, right? No, wait, it was Milan because there were a bunch of donkeys there and I guess there are a bunch of donkeys in Milan. And it was the Chinese fan I got in Vienna, no, actually, maybe it was the water from the Jordan River, or was it the Chinese fan? I get so confused with all these awesome stories I have, you know. I got the snuffboxes in Paris and the gravels from a Cardinal in Rome— ****

You’re not eating, my love!

Count Moldau got me the gnome, and Prince Obolowsky got me those cute little statues of the Twelve Apostles, which are probably my favorite gifts after the fossils. Oh, right, I need to tell Bridget to never touch the mummies ever, not even to dust them; she can do the wax dummies. And, oh yes, I love my birds too! Have you seen my great auk? Oh no, the moths will try to get in them! 

What’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking?

Tom: Nothing’s wrong.

Baba: Talk to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Tom: Why?

*Baba gets up and hugs Tom.*

Baba: come ooooooooooooooooooooooooon why are you so saaaaaaaaaaaaad smile because I love you and I want you to be happy, dear husb—

Tom: *pushing her away* SIT DOWN

*Baba bursts into tears and gets very angry very quickly.*

Baba: I’ve been SCORNED—

*She picks up an object and smashes it on the ground.*

ABUSED—

*ditto*

NEGLECTED—

*ditto*

BAITED—

*ditto*

oh I SEE HOW IT IS I KNOW YOU LOVE THAT GIRL AND HATE ME AND REGRET EVER MARRYING ME BECAUSE SHE’S SO MUCH PRETTIER AND CLEVERER AND YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH MORE SO THAT’S WHY YOU’RE SO UPSET ALL THE TIME BUT DEAL WITH IT BECAUSE YOU’RE MY HUSBAND AND YOU WILL NEVER BE HER HUSBAND, NOT—

*At this point, Tom suddenly gets up, grabs a wig, puts it over her head, and thus cuts her off. Then he walks around aimlessly until he goes to the sofa.*

Tom: ...Man, I just need to lie down and sleep.

*Which he does. During this time, Nick peeks his head through the door at right and after seeing the coast is clear, he wheels in a large object covered by a sheet. He removes the sheet to reveal a large machine. He then picks up a loaf of bread, opens a door in the front of the machine, puts in the loaf, and closes the door. Then he picks a piece of a broken vase from the floor, which he drops into a hopper on the machine. He turns a wheel and the loaf of bread falls out of a chute. He opens the door, takes out the piece of china, replaces it by the loaf and repeats the performance, so that the audience sees that the mechanism is a false bottom. The second time he ends with the loaf in the machine and the piece of china in his hand. Then he puts back the sheet, wheels the machine backstage near Tom’s sofa, and takes up a position near Tom’s head. And before you ask, yes, I did copy-and-paste most of this stage direction from the libretto because...yeah.*

Nick: Fa la la la la la la la la ‘tis the season to be jolly fa la la la la la la la la don we now our gay apparel fa la la la la la la la la troll the ancient Yuletide carol fa la la la la la la la—

*Tom wakes up.*

Tom: I wish it were true…

Nick: Oh, you’re awake?

*Tom starts.*

Tom: Who’s there?

Nick: It’s me, master, your shadow.

Tom: Oh hey! I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I made a machine that turned stones to bread so no one would go hungry or want for anything ever again, and the world became so beautiful…

Nick: Was it, perhaps, this machine?

*He pulls off the sheet to reveal the machine.*

Tom: I must still be asleep because that is exactly it.

Nick: How does it work?

Tom: I need a stone!

Nick: *handing him the piece of china* Perhaps this will do?

Tom: *doing what he narrates* I place it in the top here, and then I turn the wheel, and then—

*The bread falls out.*

HOLY SHIT THE BREAD

Nick: Does it taste good?

*Tom samples the bread.*

Tom: YES IT DOES MAYBE THIS GOOD DEED WILL MAKE ME WORTHY OF ANNE AGAIN

*He falls on his knees.*

WITH THIS DEVICE THE WORLD WILL BECOME A SECOND HEAVEN BECAUSE NEED CAUSES ALL THE HORRIBLE THINGS AND THE CRIME IN THE WORLD AND WITH NO NEED WE’LL ALL BE GOOD

Nick: *to the audience* He’s a fool, you see, but know this: you can do good business with me.

Tom: THERE’LL BE NO LABOR AND NO HUNGER AND NO GRIEF AND NO POVERTY AND EVERYTHING WILL BE GOOD AGAIN

Nick: If you try hard enough, make it flashy and cool enough, play to people’s fears enough, people will believe anything you tell them.

Tom: MAN WILL BEAT NATURE AND RULE THE WORLD

Nick: INVEST IN THIS IMMEDIATELY

Sorry to burst your bubble a bit, Tom, but we’ve got to mass-produce, we’ve got to advertise, we’ve got to get partners, and that’s all gonna take money and time and work before your dreams come true.

Tom: ...true. That does burst my bubble a bit, because I don’t want this to be empty and not do anything and not help people.

Nick: Hey, I already spoke to some people to get help because let’s be honest here, there’s really no way to be self-made in this day and age. You have to have outside investment, you have to help from influential people, and anyone who says otherwise is kidding everyone.

Tom: HOW COULD I LIVE WITHOUT YOU LET’S GO

*They begin wheeling out the machine. Nick suddenly stops and turns to Tom.*

Nick: Shouldn’t you tell your wife about all this first?

Tom: What wife? I have no wife. I buried her.

*They leave.*

Notes

Act III:

Scene 1:

A spring afternoon. Otherwise the same as Act II, Scene 3 (complete with Baba still stifled by the wig), except there’s cobwebs and dust everywhere and it looks super-rundown and creepy. An auction is about to begin.

Crowd: Ruin! Disaster! Shame!

*More people enter.*

WOW LOOK AT ALL THIS COOL STUFF LET’S BUY IT ALL

*They turn to address the audience like they’re on an 18th-century version of The Office.*

You know, this sort of thing happens to a lot of people. People hope to make it rich and then they end up throwing themselves into the Thames. Tom Rakewell is the latest one ruined. Perhaps he’ll throw himself into the Thames next. Perhaps he already has.

*They turn back to look at all the cool stuff like they’re all little kids in a candy store. Meanwhile, Anne comes in alone and also starts looking around, but not like a little kid in a candy store.*

Anne: Does anyone know what happened to Tom?

Some People: We heard he went to America.

Other People: NO HE SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTED

Some People: uh what that’s not even a thing

Other People: YEAH IT IS YOU’RE JUST STUPID

Anne: ENOUGH seriously does anyone know

Another Group: He’s Methodist now!

Yet Another Group: No, he’s Catholic!

Still Another Group: No, he converted to Judaism!

Anne: I DON’T CARE WHAT RELIGION HE IS THAT’S NOT THE PROBLEM HERE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM

People: uhhhhhhhhh he went into debt and we guess people are looking for him

Anne: well since none of you are being helpful I’ll look for him myself

*She goes off to search the rest of the house.*

Some People: who’s she?

Other People: probably some ex-girlfriend, idk

*They go back to looking at all the stuff. A group of servants starts setting up an auction platform. Eventually Sellem shows up to begin the auction.*

Sellem: okay everyone let’s— NO NO NO YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SET THE PLATFORM UP OVER THERE

Servants: ugggggggggggggh

*They start moving the platform.*

People: ‘kay everyone let’s get those bids ready

*When the platform is set up, Sellem mounts it and begins the auction.*

Sellem: OKAY EVERYONE welcome to the best auction ever

Everyone Else: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sellem: there’s a thing called the balance of nature which states that for everyone who loses, as many people win. Congrats, you’re all winners and you’re helping restore nature and I guess the balance of money and stuff like that

Some People: ...that doesn’t really make sense but okay we could get stuff so we’ll let that slide

Everyone Else: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Now then, lots one and two, which cover the categories of vegetable, animal, and mineral—

Someone in the Crowd: I AM THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN MAJOR GENERAL**

Sellem: EXCUSE ME WE’RE STARTING

okay who wants this stuffed auk that’s really cool and who wants this dead fish that’s also really cool

*People start putting up their bids.*

One...two...three...five...seven...eleven...fourteen...nineteen...twenty...twenty-three...twenty-three once, twenty-three twice, sold! to that guy over there.

Next up: a Roman marble, a consecrated palm branch, and...all this other stuff, idk. I wasn’t briefed on all this before coming here. Owner’s a crazy guy who skipped town and his wife’s down for the count, so I don’t know. Anyway, let the bidding begin!

*People put up more bids.*

One...two...three...six...eleven...fifteen...fifteen and a half...fifteen and three quarters...fifteen and seven-eighths, not sure that’s even a thing...finally, sixteen...seventeen...seventeen and a half...seventeen and a half going once, going twice, sold! To you, madam.

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Sellem: Alright. Lot 666, then, ladies and gentlemen—

People In the Crowd: what happened to the other six hundred and something lots

Sellem: SHUT UP IT’S FOR THE EFFECT

People: Is it at least a chandelier in pieces? ***

Sellem: SHUT UP anyway no it’s not a chandelier or a chandelier in pieces actually maybe it could be because we don’t know what this is either. It could be a cake. Maybe we should cut into it to see if it’s a cake. Maybe it’s an organ or a golden apple tree or an oracle or a pillar or an octopus or— ****

People: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LET’S SEE WHAT IT IS

*They start putting up their bids but keep shouting.*

Sellem: Fifty...fifty-five...sixty...sixty-fi-GUYS I CAN BARELY HEAR MYSELF THINK-ve...seventy...seventy-five SHUT UP...EIGHTY...EIGHTY-FIVE...NINETY...NINETY GOING ON-...OH NEVER MIND THERE’S A HUNDRED...HUNDRED GOING ONCE GOING TWICE SOLD 

*At that moment, he pulls the wig off Baba, who immediately revives and continues with the last thing she said before Tom silenced her.*

Baba: ...EVER!

People: WHAT IT’S HIS WIFE

Baba: excuse me what the FUCK is going on here why are you selling all my stuff GET OUT and if you so much as touch any more of my stuff you’re gonna have to deal with ME

Tom and Nick: *in the distance* lalala old wives for sale lalala

*Anne runs in and goes straight to the window.*

Anne: was that him was that hi—he’s gone.

Baba: looks like they already sold all my stuff

*She turns to Anne.*

My dear—

Anne: His wife!

Baba: More like the woman he married and then dumped, his little joke. Come here, my child.

*Anne goes over to her.*

Sellem: uh this is getting a little awkward so this auction is over I guess everyone please leave

People: GET THE POPCORN THIS IS WAY BETTER THAN AN AUCTION

Baba: Hey, you know what? Maybe there’s some good in him. Maybe not, I don’t know. But he still loves you.

Anne: He still loves me? Then I should’ve kept looking when I came here a long time ago.

Sellem and People: He still loves her? Aww that’s sweet but also really sad.

Baba: Watch out for that guy who’s always with him. Tom may have rejected me, but out of those two, he’s not the snake. Go. Find your true love.

Anne: But what about you?

Baba: Hun, don’t worry about me. I’ll pick right back up with my career.

People: That girl’s gonna go find him!

Sellem: well looks like no one’s interested in buying anything anymore so rip me and rip this auction I guess

Tom and Nick: *in the distance* lalala let’s sing songs about boys having wings and gold falling from the sky and other stuff lalala

Anne and Baba: IT’S HIM

Baba: GO FIND YOUR LOVE

Anne: I WILL SAVE TOM

Baba: GO SAVE TOM

People: TOM REALLY SCREWED UP SO IF YOU WANT TO SAVE TOM DO IT QUICKLY

Anne: God bless you, Baba!

Everyone Else: GO SAVE TOM TRUE LOVE RULES

*Anne runs out.*

Tom and Nick: *in the distance* lalala who cares about Tories and Whigs I don’t lalala

Baba: SELLEM GO GET MY CARRIAGE

Sellem: ...Yes, ma’am.

*Sellem grabs the carriage from the pile of stuff about to be auctioned and helps Baba in.* *****

Baba: GET OUT OF THE WAY ALSO NEXT TIME I SEE YOU YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS

*She leaves.*

People: ...what even was this day

Notes

Scene 2:

A starry night, a little after the events of Scene 1. Tom and Nick, who is carrying a small black bag, come to a churchyard with several graves (including one empty freshly-dug grave). There is an elevated tomb with a spade leaning against it. On the right there is a yew tree.

Tom: *out of breath* Are...we...there...yet?

Nick: We’re here, you dum-dum.

Tom: WHY ARE WE HERE THIS PLACE LOOKS SO CREEPY AND SO DO YOU

Nick: Remember, it’s been a year and a day since we made our deal. I upheld my end of the deal, so now it’s your turn.

Tom: BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY

Nick: But you still have your soul. Look at me. This is who you chose to hire, and here is your price. **

*He takes four objects out of the bag and shows them to Tom as he points to the fresh grave.*

That grave will be your grave. Look: here’s a dagger, a noose, a vial of poison, and a gun. You have progressed to the end, you rake.

Tom: noooooooooooooooooooo why did my uncle ever choose me as his heir

Nick: you screwed up big-time and it’s too late for you buddy so you might as well join all the damned in hell

Tom: I know but this suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks

Nick: It’s about to strike midnight. You choose one of these four objects, and on the stroke of twelve, you will use that object of your choice to end your sorry little life and deliver your soul to me, as is the price.

*A clock begins to strike.*

One, two, three, four—

Tom: I DECLARE A THUMB WAR

Nick: SHUT UP five, six, seven—

Tom: HAVE MERCY ON ME HEAVEN

Nick: STOP TRYING TO BE WITTY AND RHYME now it’s eight

Tom: IT’S TOO LATE

Nick: No, wait!

*The clock strikes once more, but Nick holds up his hand and it stops.*

Tom: ...did we just inadvertently write a poem?

Nick: what?

Tom: ...we rhymed.

Nick: You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work. But you are a very dear friend to me, and although I sense you’re trying to mess with our agreed-upon conditions, I am a gentleman and I am amenable enough to change said conditions and suggest a game.

Tom: A game? That’s it?

Nick: A game of chance. Do you, by any chance *ba-dum-ch*, have a pack of cards?

Tom: That’s all I have left in this world and for the next.

*He takes out a pack of cards from his pocket and hands them to Nick.*

Nick: Haha, I like a good joke! Keeps our spirits high and makes the game go well. Now down to the serious business: the game is very simple, the result simpler still. Nick will cut three cards from the deck.

Tom: Can I ask a question?

Nick: Questions for the end, please. If you can name all three, you are released from the contract. If not, you pick your method of death. Your question?

Tom: ...Why are you referring to yourself in the third person?

Nick: Because Nick wants to. Do you understand the rules of the game?

*Tom nods.*

Then let us begin.

*He cuts the cards, shuffles them, and holds up the Queen of Hearts, his card of choice, so the audience, but not Tom, can see it.*

Tom: oh no I just can’t 

Nick: Try.

Tom: BUT I CAN’T THINK

Nick: Just think of one. You wish you could control the game, but all you can do at this point is think of one card.

Tom: Anne!

*He calms down.*

I’m not afraid anymore. I choose the Queen of Hearts.

Nick: *holding up the card to Tom* You have chosen correctly. It’s such a simple game, you see?

*He tosses the card aside as the clock strikes ten, then turns to the audience.*

He loves games; they’re how he tries to keep the hope alive but it will all end in despair.

*He turns back to Tom.*

Round two.

*As before, he cuts the cards and holds the top one towards the audience.*

Tom: ...Now how am I supposed to win back my soul?

Nick: Try. Maybe Fortune will help you a second time.

Tom: luck be a lady toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight luck be a lady toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight luck if you’ve ever been a lady to begin with luck be a lady toniiiiiiiiiiii—

*The spade falls with a loud crash.*

THE HELL WAS THAT THAT SCARED ME

*He looks and sees that the spade fell.*

You know what? It’s fine. It’s a sign: my choice is two of spades.

Nick: Two of spades?

Tom: Two of spades.

Nick: Not even queen of spades? ***

Tom: did I stutter

Nick: *barely hiding his anger* Two of spades it is.

*He throws aside the card as the clock strikes eleven.*

Congratulations. Luck is indeed being a lady to you tonight. BUT there is still one more to go. This is your last chance and as your friend, I don’t want you to mess this up. I’m a very compassionate fellow, after all. So if nothing else, think about your hopes.

Tom: WHAT HOPES DO I EVEN HAVE

*He puts his head in his hands and leans against the tomb.*

Nick: OH STOP BEING SUCH A WHINY TENOR oh wait actually he’s a tenor which means he has no brain cells which means—

*He reaches down, picks up one of the two discarded cards, and holds it up to the audience.*

Simplest trick of all time. I told him there’s no return, he believed me, and he doesn’t think anything is going to repeat.

*He slips it into the middle of the deck.*

Tom, stop whining for long enough that we can get this last round over with.

*He shuffles and cuts the deck as before.*

Tom: well I can’t figure out anything from what he’s saying so luck be a lady toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight (again)

Nick: he’s toast

Nyah nyah Tom are you scared, you little lover boy?

Tom: oh lordy this is the worst day EVER

Nick: they’re comin’ for ya!

Tom: ALL I WANT IS A RETURN AND LOVE BUT I CAN’T HAVE EITHER

Nick: IT’S TOO LATE

Tom: RETURN! LOVE! LO—

Anne: *from offstage* TRUE LOVE CAN REDEEM YOU

*Tom and Nick both freeze momentarily.*

Tom: LOVE, RULE FOREVER I CHOOSE THE QUEEN OF HEARTS AGAIN

*He grabs the pack of cards as the clock strikes twelve, then screams with joy and collapses.*

Nick: DAMN it I literally cheated against a tenor and STILL lost also the demons are hungry for SOUL FOOD AND I DON’T HAVE IT FOR THEM AND NOW I HAVE TO GO BACK TO HELL EMPTY-HANDED

You know what, though? I can still do some damage.

*He turns to Tom.*

I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE YOUR SOUL AWAY BUT I CAN TAKE YOUR SANITY AWAY SO NOW YOU’RE INSANE FOREVER

*He sinks into the grave. Blackout, then the set changes. It is spring. Tom is sitting on the grass, and having lost any trace of sanity he may have had, he’s singing and putting grass on his head.*

Tom: I am crowned with roses...my name is Adonis...I’m in love with Venus… ****

Scene 3:

Tom’s cell in the Bedlam mental hospital. There is a straw pallet on the floor, and Tom is standing before it, facing a group of fellow patients. *****

Tom: Alright, everyone, time to get ready, clean yourselves up because VENUS IS COMING TO VISIT

Patients: No she’s not.

Tom: Yes she is.

Patients: NO SHE’S NOT

Tom: BUT SHE PROMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISED

Patients: But you’re insane.

Tom: So are you.

Patients: She’s not coming.

Tom: VENUS COME NOW OR I’M GONNA DIE

*He sits on the pallet and buries his face in his hands as the patients start to dance mockingly.*

Patients: Lalala it’s foolish to hope because we’re all insane and nobody cares a scrap about us out there and anyone who may have before doesn’t now and life sucks and we don’t have any friends and night never ends lalala

Tom: ...was that supposed to make me feel better?

*A key turns in the lock and the door opens.*

OH NO CRUEL MINOS IS COMING EVERYONE RUN BECAUSE HE’LL WHIP YOU IF YOU DON’T

*Everyone else runs to their cells as the Keeper of the Madhouse enters with Anne and indicates Tom.*

Keeper: He’s not dangerous, so don’t be afraid.

Anne: Tom!

Keeper: He doesn’t respond to that; he believes he is Adonis, so you should probably call him that instead.

Anne: Oh, I see. You’re very kind.

*She gives him money.*

Keeper: Thank you.

*He leaves. Anne goes up to Tom.*

Anne: ...Adonis?

*Tom sees her and jumps up.*

Tom: Venus! At last! You know, everyone said you’d never come, and I almost believed them, but look! You’re here! Come, sit on my throne.

*He helps her sit down on the pallet and then kneels before her.*

Look, so I really screwed up because I went out into the big wide world and chased useless dreams and left you behind, but I want to be faithful to you forever and I hope you forgive me.

*Anne gets up and helps Tom up as well.*

Anne: What’s there to forgive? You’ve come around and everything is okay.

Anne and Tom: There’s nothing to worry about now; we’re in Elysium together and nothing can mess with our love… ******

*Tom suddenly staggers. Anne helps him back down to the pallet.*

Tom: I’m so tired...let me lay my head on you...and sing me to sleep?

*Anne lets him do so.*

Everything is good now.

Anne: *singing* You little boat, the sun is going down, go sail to the Islands of the Blessed...

Patients: *from their cells offstage* What’s that voice?

Anne: There are gardens and streams and music everywhere there...and it is the dream of every weary soul…

Patients: This music is beautiful and somehow it’s making us forget our sorrow...

Anne: The animals all live together in harmony, and the plants sway with the wind…

Patients: SING FOREVER HELP US FORGET OUR PAIN AND BRING US PEACE

*The Keeper shows in Trulove.*

Trulove: Anne, I’m sorry, but it’s time to go home.

Anne: Yes. Tom, I have to go, but I will love you forever. You don’t need me now. You just need to sleep. Goodbye, my dear.

*She joins Trulove.*

Everyone has to die and release their soul at some point, and I think now is your time. I don’t think we’ll see each other again in this life, but I will always love you…

Trulove: God knows what must be, and this must be, and yet I’m crying.

*The Keeper goes out with the Truloves. Tom wakes up after they leave.*

Tom: Venus? Venus? It’s spring, everything is ready for our wedding, where are you?

*He looks around.*

Achilles, Helen, Eurydice, Orpheus, Persephone, Pluto, everyone! WHERE DID YOU TAKE MY GIRLFRIEND WHY DID YOU TAKE HER WHERE IS SHE *******

*The patients all come in.*

Patients: Venus? No, you’re crazy, no one took her.

Tom: My heart is breaking, I’m dying, everyone, sing for Adonis, who loved and was loved by Venus…

*He falls back onto the pallet again and dies.*

Patients: Mourn for Adonis, Venus’ love, forever young...weep and mourn…

*The curtain falls and the house lights come up.*

Notes

Epilogue:

(You thought the opera was over, but no!)

*Tom, Anne, Nick, Baba, and Trulove appear in front of the curtain.*

Tom, Anne, Nick, Baba, and Trulove: HEY EVERYONE JUST A MOMENT BEFORE YOU GO BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH THE STORY IS TECHNICALLY OVER THERE’S STILL A FEW LESSONS TO LEARN FROM THIS WHOLE THING

Anne: Not everyone is lucky enough to have an Anne in their lives to rescue them and to take the place of duty.

Baba: Whether a man is good or bad, ladies, remember this: all men are mad and everything they do? Theatre. All theatre.

Tom: Don’t get a big head out there and don’t dream too much because it’ll lead to nothing but sorrow.

Trulove: I wholeheartedly agree with that!

Nick: I just have to do what I’m told. People often say I don’t exist, and at times, I wish I didn’t.

Tom, Anne, Nick, Baba, and Trulove: So let’s tell the ultimate moral as one: since the beginning of time, everywhere, one lesson has proven true. For idle hearts and hands and minds, the Devil finds work to do. If you don’t take care, he’ll find work for you, and you, and you!

*They all bow and exit.*

The End

Up Next: Benvenuto Cellini [yes, I have decided to slightly change the schedule]

[lilithite]

When Lilith invited me to bite the fruit

This is my personal story with Lilith, not intended as gospel

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian household in Texas, a state in the Bible belt, in a town of 2,000 people.  My family consisted of my mother and little sister.  We were all very tight knit.  So tight knit, in fact, that my sister and I would walk around the house naked if we felt like it because it was just women in the house and we were all family.  We always went to our Assemblies of God church every Sunday (here is a link to Assemblies of God beliefs to give you an idea of the kind of church it was https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assemblies_of_God_USA), read the Bible, and prayed often.  My mother would get up at 5am every day just to pray for a couple hours.  She made sure we were sheltered from the secular world.  We only listened to the Christian radio stations and our media consumption was monitored.  She even looked through our phones.  Even though I felt naturally drawn to the spiritual, I felt a disconnect from Christianity.

When people would speak in tongues at church I would feel weirded out, then feel guilty about being freaked out because it meant I doubted God’s power.  Even though I was genuinely pious I would never “hear God’s voice” or “felt him” or anything like that.  I have read nearly 90% of the Bible and the verses felt hollow.  I could never become friends with the other kids at church, not because I was snobby, but because I couldn’t relate to them.  When I went to church I would try my hardest to “be in God’s presence” but in the end I would just go through the motions.  I had plenty of biblical knowledge and faith, but it always felt like God just didn’t want to get involved in my life. 

The first truly spiritual moment I ever went through was when I was deer hunting with my dad when I was eleven.  We were in the hunting stand on a clear, crisp fall morning when I saw sun rays breaking through the pine trees and landing on the Earth.  It was like someone hit the on switch for the woods and colors and details revealed themselves. I involuntarily let out a small gasp and instead of chastising me for making noise (he has a short temper), my dad whispered, “That is the sunlight reaching the Earth.”  The emotion that swept over me as a stared at the forest was ineffable.  I remember thinking that this was nothing like I had ever experienced in church.  I had, for the first time, felt connected to a divine force.  Ever since this experience church felt like a parody.  I knew, in my soul, that there was something in nature that was sacred.

When I was a teenager I would question and air my grievances on rules I deemed unfair.  I was labeled sassy and rebellious.  To be clear, I never smoked, drank, partied, or had sex.  Hell, I never even dated or sneaked out.  I just wanted privacy and more freedom.  I wanted to hang out with friends after school.  To be allowed to attend different events without my mom hovering.  My mom and her friend concluded that I had the demon of witchcraft and rebellion inside me and I needed “deliverance,” which is our church’s term for an exorcism.  I had not practiced witchcraft (yet) but according to a demonology class (it was more like a cult) that was sponsored by the preacher’s wife, the demon of rebellion also ruled over witchcraft. The friend came over, grabbed me by the shoulders and shouted for Satan to leave my body.  I was a little confused because I thought it was just a demon possessing me, not the big man himself.  Anyway, she started to shake my shoulders rather hard so I just decided to go along with it and thanked her for getting rid of the demon. At no point did I ever believe I was possessed by a demon, but I was freaked out none the less. 

When I was 18 I was kicked out because of my “rebellious nature” and refusal to take medicine that was forced upon me for a mental illness I was never diagnosed with.  I could either take the mystery medicine and be allowed to stay home, or refuse and get kicked out.  I made my choice and finally bit the forbidden fruit.  For the first time I felt true freedom.  I started to think for myself and form my own opinion on issues.  I became a feminist, pro BLM, pro LGB and a socialist.  When I was living by myself I officially renounced my Christian faith but still felt the spiritual spark I felt that morning in the woods. 

I had always loved to read and since I was no longer chained by Christianity I could check out whatever book I wanted at the local library, which was a regular haunt of mine.  One giant book caught my attention titled, “The Mists of Avalon.”  I want to be clear that this was before I knew of the horrible things that the author did.  At least I was supporting a local library and no profit went to the author by my doing this.  Anyway, I became fascinated by the goddess worship mentioned in the book.  I wasn’t even familiar with goddess worship and knew nothing, but I felt drawn too it.  I started doing research and the first thing I came upon was Wicca.  Wicca seems to be the first thing that many newbie spiritualists come across.  I started practicing witchcraft but nothing ever felt right for me.  I practiced the craft on and off but I eventually let go of Wicca entirely because it just wasn’t for me.  I felt the most connected to goddess worship but the mother goddess and triple goddess archetypes just never felt right for me.  I do not want kids but it seemed like every goddess out there was either about fertility or being a mother figure.  I knew there was a divine female force out there, but I could not find one calling to me.

One night I had a dream.  It was vivid and purple.  I could hear a woman’s voice talking to me, strong, low, firm, and partly terrifying.  I forgot most of what she said except for the last part.  She called herself The Abortion. This was the most clear dream I have had in my life.  A quick Google search lead me to Lilith, who is called the Patron of Abortion.  I saw in her story parallels to my life; she abandoned God and an easy life in the garden for liberation.  She refused to be submissive to Adam like I refused to be submissive to my mother’s boyfriend.  She appeared as a snake to liberate Eve, and I always loved snakes since I was little, even though I was told snakes were the devil’s animal.  In a tarot reading the animal card I drew was snake.  Lilith was not seen as a mother goddess or part of the triple goddess archetype.  She is a goddess of liberated women, of child free women, of birth control and abortion.  Of course, many people worship different sides of her and my word is no gospel, just my personal experience. 

When I was raped, Lilith kept me from conceiving.  Lilith blessed me with a rebellious and inquisitive nature that desires freedom and independence.  She extended her hand out to offer me the forbidden fruit, and I took it and bit it.  It tasted bittersweet.  It tasted like freedom.  I had to leave my Garden of Eden, which was my family and Christian faith.  But once I tasted the fruit of knowledge of good and evil, my eyes are open and I can never go back.  I do not want to go back.           

[thetravelerwrites]

DuMont (Tiefling Barbarian)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Elf Ranger/Male Tiefling Barbarian Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, Kobold, Half Elf, Human, Rogue, Bard, Barbarian, Ranger, Mage, Wizard, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Sex, Third Person Perspective Words: 5619

A tiefling left to die as an infant was raised in a cathedral tower with no contact with the outside. Once the person who raised him dies, he follows the voice of his patron god and finds new companions who teach him about the world. Among them is an elf woman with a surprising past.

Another super cool commission from @ocsmutpocalypse with amazing artwork from @sutexii​ (Follow them on Twitter)! Based heavily on D&D and featuring Rupert and Sanoh from a @momolady​ fic, which can currently be found on her Patreon! Please leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

DuMont hadn’t had the greatest start to life. He was born malformed, hideous even among his own people. Even as an infant, his cry was guttural and otherworldly. His parents, shocked at the sight of him, absconded with him in the dead of night, determined to get rid of what they saw as a mistake of nature. For tieflings, that was saying something. Upon reaching what appeared to be an abandoned cathedral, they were going to just leave the baby inside and let it starve.

They didn’t count on the fact that the cathedral’s elderly priest still lived and worshiped there, though he led a lonely existence since no one had come to receive blessings from him in many years. The discovery of an unfortunate child left on the altar of his crumbling church was less of an inconvenience to him and more of a gift from his long forgotten god, Montro. He therefore named the child DuMont, meaning “Son of Montro.”

The priest could not read, and as such, couldn’t teach DuMont to do so, either. However, he did recite the scriptures of Montro and several other gods in the same pantheon to DuMont, though in his advanced age, he often got them mixed up. DuMont was never sure which of the scriptures were true or not, or what scripture went with which god, but he thought it best not to question it.

Despite the lack of education and limited knowledge afforded to him by the priest, DuMont had an insatiable desire to learn. He was constantly asking the priest questions about this or that thing, much to the priest’s annoyance.

The priest had made it clear early in DuMont’s life that the world outside wouldn’t be safe for him, and that he would be safest in the tower. His own parents had left him to die, after all, so strangers couldn’t be expected to show him much mercy. Sadly, DuMont had accepted this. When not having scripture lessons or eating meals with the priest, DuMont spent his time in the cathedral’s tower, looking out of the broken slats at the world outside, barred from ever leaving.

He watched animals jump and frolic and play in the courtyard, many of which he had no name for. He watched people ambling down the roads, sometimes with horses and carts, sometimes walking. Some were human, like the priest, and some were tiefling, like him, but the other races he couldn’t identify. When he asked the priest, the old man merely told DuMont not to worry about it. He’d never leave this place, anyway, so there was no reason to concern himself with such trifles.

But, unknown to the priest, DuMont had been hearing a voice speak to him in the quiet of the darkness. It never said more than a word or two: wait, or be patient. There was always a bell that accompanied the voice DuMont was sure the priest couldn’t hear. Sometimes it was the rumbling toll of a church bell, other times it was the clear ringing of a hand bell, and still others it was the jingling, tinkling sound of dancer’s bells. DuMont didn’t know who or what the voice was, so he did not tell the priest for fear that he would reject him.

As he aged, he grew into a giant at nearly nine feet, far larger than the average tiefling. His muscles had grown massive from doing most of the heavy work for the priest, hauling marble reliefs and moldering pews by the stack. He still walked with a pronounced hunch, using his hands to propel him sometimes when his legs were too short to get the job done. His life was simple, and though he sometimes felt wistful for a different life beyond his reach, he was content.

Until one night while sleeping, he heard the voice waking him, resounding in his head like an alarm bell.

Go.

DuMont sat up, startled. That was a new one.

Outside. Now. It’s time.

Lurching to his feet, he felt compelled to obey the voice, and despite his nerves at never having stepped foot out of the church since the day he arrived, he went down, opened the doors, and, slowly, gingerly placed his foot on the cold stone steps outside.

The first thing that hit his senses was the cool night air, fresher than he’d ever breathed, blowing across his skin. The second was the sight of the priest who’d raised him, lying still and stiff on the walkway, his eyes open but unseeing.

Death. DuMont knew what this was; the priest had explained it, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Feeling heavy, heartsick, and a little confused, he picked the priest up, took him back into the church, and laid his body on the altar, kneeling and praying as the priest had taught him.

But… now what?

Go.

For the first time, DuMont questioned the voice.

“Where?”

Outside. Time to go. You are needed.

“By who?”

The voice was silent. DuMont did as he instructed, leaving what had been his home all his life with a pang of anxiety, and stepping cautiously toward the road, not sure what would happen.

He didn’t have to wait long. In the early morning hours, just as dawn began to break, he saw two figures coming down the road; one was human, with a freckled face, wild brown hair, and vivid blue eyes, and the other creature he couldn’t begin to fathom what it was, with it’s reptilian form and flowing blue frock. They were holding hands and talking, laughing, and leaning close. DuMont tried to parse out what such behavior meant, but came up with nothing.

Suddenly, they stopped, catching sight of him. The… female? She immediately drew a weapon, but the human put a hand on it and lowered it gently, shaking his head. He stepped forward and pushed the other creature behind him.

“Hello, friend,” He said, a little trepidatiously. “My name is Rupert. Can I ask you your name?”

DuMont was silent for a moment. He’d never spoken to anyone besides the priest, who had often told him that his voice was too loud and harsh for the ear, suggesting that he whisper instead.

“DuMont,” He responded slowly, quietly. “I am DuMont.” He pointed at the female creature. “What are you?”

“Well, that’s rude,” She said, hands on her hips.

“No, Darling, I think he literally doesn’t know what race you are,” Rupert said. “This is Sanoh. She’s a creature known as a kobold. They’re related to lizardfolk.”

DuMont stared blankly; then again, that’s just how his face looked. But he was genuinely perplexed.

“Um…” Rupert hummed, trying to get a feel for this. “We were looking for a place to rest. We’ve been on the road for a couple of days and have been sleeping on the roadside. Do you know where we could bed down for a while?”

DuMont turned and pointed. The crumbling cathedral sat on the hill.

“Do you live there?” Sanoh asked.

“Yes,” DuMont said, keeping his voice carefully modulated. “In the tower.”

“Would it be okay if we stayed a day or two? We could pay you for the trouble?” Rupert offered.

“Pay?” DuMont repeated.

Sanoh’s spiky eyebrows furrowed. “Just how long have you been in that tower?”

“Until today,” DuMont replied.

Rupert and Sanoh exchanged a look.

“Do you want to live there?”

DuMont thought about it. “No. I want to learn.”

“How about this,” Rupert said. “We’ll stay in the cathedral for a few days, rest up and everything, and then when we’re ready to leave, you come with us. It sounds like you could use some fresh air, maybe see the world a little. What do you say?”

Hunched, feeling slightly vulnerable, DuMont nodded his massive head in agreement.

Enania Enjor, princess of the Elven kingdom of Zylthana, had the best childhood a person could want. A legion of servants at her beck and call, as much food, wine, and money as she could ever use, the nicest clothes, the finest jewelry. Parents and siblings who doted on her, the unshakable love of her people. All of it decadent and indulgent.

All of it boring. Tedious. Dull. More adjectives. All the bad ones.

One day, Enania decided she was sick of it. Her older brother was the crown prince; they didn’t really need her to be around. Besides, they’d likely marry her off to some stuffy noble to strengthen their hold in the north, and she had no interest in that at all. So, plain and simple, she ran away.

In the middle of the night, she packed a light rucksack with clothes and a large sum of coin, dodged her retainers, and took off on her horse, a very expensive breed gifted to her on her eighteenth birthday by a lord hoping to gain her favor. Too bad he was just as boring as the rest of the prissy, fussy dandies of the court.

After deciding to change her name to Kharis for anonymity and cutting off her family’s signature black curls, she left a note asking her parents not to send anyone to follow her, that she’s come to visit, that she was fine and just exploring the world a bit and not to cramp her style. She signed it, “love you!” so, you know, that was good enough.

Fortunately, she had insisted the captain of her father’s guard teach her the best fighting techniques for a person of her height and build. Unfortunately, in just a few short months, she had made quite a name for herself in a few small towns. As in, she had been kicked out of them for theft and starting fights. At some point it became necessary to sell her horse to keep herself fed and a roof over her head at night. Even still, she was having the time of her life, loving the unpredictable aspect of it all.

One afternoon, after nicking her lunch from a particularly unobservant baker, she was wandering a long neglected country road, overgrown with weeds and brambles, when she stumbled upon an old, derelict cathedral sitting on a hill, surrounded by sinister looking trees. Any sane person would stay well away from that place. Naturally, she smiled and began to jog toward it.

Opening the front door, she peered inside at the interior. There were pews lined up as if service were about to take place, except they were all disintegrating and covered in mold. There were cobwebs in every corner, every archway. She felt like just calling out to whoever might be inside would send dust falling from the rafters.

Even still.

“Hello?” She said in a moderately loud voice, echoing throughout the great hall. “Is anyone here?”

There was a clattering and low voices from a room in the back. She followed them and came upon a tiny kobold woman and a tallish human man speaking to each other in an undertone.

“Hey,” Kharis said, startling them. “You guys priests here?”

“Oh, gods, no,” The human said. “The priest has died. The last keeper of this place has kindly allowed us to stay here a few days to rest before we continue on.”

“Oh,” Kharis said. “I’m Kharis. Who are you two, by the way?”

Rupert and Sonah introduced themselves.

“Where are you two headed?” Kharis asked.

“Shornstone,” Sonah said. “We’re meeting up with a mage friend of his.” She gestured at Rupert. “What about you. Why are you here?”

“I’m traveling, too,” Kharis replied. “I’ve been doing it alone, but I’d be happy for some company, if you two are up for it.”

Sonah glanced at Rupert and shrugged. “She seems like she’d be fun.”

Rupert looked at Kharis dubiously, but nodded. “Well, we’d be okay with it, but you should ask DuMont when he comes back in.”

“Who?”

“The church keeper,” Rupert said. “He’ll be traveling with us, too. The priest, the one who died, raised him.” He pointed out toward the cemetery. “He’s out there burying him now.”

“Well, then, I’ll go ask,” Kharis said, turning to head out of the side door.

“Ah, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” Rupert called after her. “The poor fellow is in mourning! Leave him be!”

Ignoring him, she strode out into the afternoon air, looking for the keeper.

He was hard to miss. There, kneeling near a newly filled-in grave was a massive beast of a creature, something she had never seen before, and being royalty, she had seen quite a lot. He sat there silently, with four wide, unblinking eyes of red sclera and yellow pupils, and the bone of his lower jaw exposed, clinging to his head by a few sinews and tendons, fangs jutting out. Muscle was exposed here and there down his chest, his skin red and looked gravelly to the touch. His horns, taking up all of the space on the top of his head, were swirled with what looked like veins.

She approached as quietly as she could, unsure of this… person… or what he might do if disturbed.

“…excuse me…” She said gently.

He sat up from his crouch slightly and turned his head to stare at her. He said nothing and didn’t move.

“Hello,” She said. “Rupert and Sanoh said I should come out and introduce myself, seeing as how we’ll all be traveling together. I mean, if that’s alright with you,” she added hastily.

Still, he said nothing, just stared at her with unnerving intensity.

“You are DuMont, right?” She asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” He said. His voice was guttural and as gravelly as his skin, but it sounded as though he was intentionally trying to suppress it.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Kharis said, laughing.

“You are a stranger,” He said plainly.

She gave a conceding nod. “That’s true.” She held out her hand. “I’m Kharis,” She said.

He reached out a hand that could have easily twice the size of her head and took her tiny one in it.

“Hello,” He said.

“See?” She said, letting go. “Now we’re not strangers anymore.” She gestured at the grave. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded and returned to his mourning, silent once more, the conversation seemingly over. Kharis left him and went back inside.

The next morning, after a breakfast that was made up of half of what was left of the cathedral’s larder, the other half of which was packed up for the trip, DuMont joined his three new friends on the road. He brought with him one of the smaller church bells, roughly the size of a barrel, the only clothes he owned, a vest and trousers ripped short around his knees, and left everything else behind He took one last moment to look back at the only home he’d ever known and bid it a final farewell, then followed behind the others toward an unknown, uncertain future.

Months went by. Rupert met up with his friend, Norman, a half-elf with tan skin and dark brown hair escaping an unhappy marriage, and added him to the group. They became adventurers then, traveling the country and taking jobs from local towns, clearing out dungeons and castles of unwanted creatures and such, chasing bandits, bounty hunting, and just generally any job that paid enough to spark their collective interest.

After one particularly nasty job involving an ogre that had taken up residence in a local elf’s wine cellar who’d nearly bitten off Kharis’s head, they were sitting around a campfire, discussing the details and counting out the coins between them.

All except for DuMont. He didn’t understand the purpose of money. He had told them they could keep any money they found or were given as long as they kept him fed. He didn’t need much to be happy; seeing the beauty and strangeness of the world that he could only have guessed at in his tower was plenty reward for him.

It had taken DuMont some time to open up to his new friends, but he enjoyed their company, even learning to laugh and joke, though he was still careful not to startle anyone with his voice. He was still hesitant to join their conversations; they often used words he didn’t understand, and he was too embarrassed to ask what they meant, afraid they would think him simple-minded. If they didn’t already, that is.

“Some wizard you are!” Sanoh was saying at Norman. “That fireball nearly singed the scales on my tail more than it did anything to to ogre!” She was carefully cleaning her scales, polishing them to a emerald shine.

“It’s partly your fault for being so noticeable!” He said, gesturing at her gleaming scales and jewelry. “What part of the concept of stealth is lost on you!”

“Hey, I am plenty stealthy,” She retorted. “You just suck at magic.”

“Bullshit!” He said, sitting up from his prone position and rolling up his sleeves.”I’ll summon lightning right now.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Sanoh replied smugly, folding her arms.

“Honey,” Rupert said nervously, putting an arm around her shoulder and snugging her in protectively. “Do you have to provoke Norman?”

“Yes,” Said said staunchly. “You’re a better mage than he is, and you don’t even try.”

“You just watch,” Norman said. He gestured with his hands and muttered in Arcane. The other four watched him with interest and caution as blue energy formed around his hands. DuMont twitched his head curiously, Rupert leaned away as Sanoh and Kharis leaned forward, watching eagerly. The blue energy fizzled and cracked, and in a flash of blue light that made everyone close their eyes against it. The sound of yipping opened their eyes again.

There, sitting in Norman’s grip, was a small dog, a corgi, happily barking and attempting to lick his face. Norman sat there, dumbfounded.

“I cast lightning!” He exclaimed, not sure what to do with the wiggling thing now in his hands. He set it down, and the dog turned circles and ran straight for DuMont, who reached out gingerly to touch the dog’s soft fur.

“Maybe its name is Lightning,” Kharis said. Everyone laughed. “Besides, it wasn’t you that was the problem. Stupid here needs to learn to swing that thing better.”

She gestured at DuMont’s weapon, a large, thick rail that he had tied the church bell to as a bludgeon. Dumont’s hands stilled for a second, but he said nothing and continued to pet the dog, who had nestled in his lap and was sighing happily.

That night, the fire died a little and everyone bedded down. The dog, who they all agreed must be named Lightning, slept in DuMont’s arms, who slept on the cold ground with no covering. Kharis, nearly dozing in her bedroll as everyone else snoozed, heard the words, “I’m not stupid,” in a soft, gravelly tone. She also heard someone get up, the sound of a disappointed dog being deposited on the ground, and large feet stalking off into the woods.

Kharis lay there, thinking. She hadn’t meant it as an insult, really; she was just being playful. But if she thought about it, she did kind of assume he was not intelligent. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was simple sentences and basic answers. She hadn’t really given it much thought; she hadn’t really given him much thought beyond being the muscle of the group, assuming he was all mass and no substance, like the guards in the castle. Then again, maybe she was to quick to make such assumptions and it was just not something that she’d ever had to worry about.

Annoyed, though uncertain at who, she got out of her bedroll and tracked DuMont’s footprints out into the brush, not bothering to be quiet about it. But when she found him, she stopped short.

DuMont was sitting crouched with his knees drawn up, gently scratching the chin of a fawn, stroking its side and whispering to it softly.

For a moment, Kharis just watched. She had him pegged so wrong.

Then, when shifting her weight, she snapped a twig and both DuMont and the baby deer looked up. The deer took off, and left DuMont reaching after it in disappointment.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, still speaking quietly, like always. “I’d never seen a branch walker close up before.”

She was about to apologize when she stopped and tilted her head, confused. “A what?”

“A branch walker,” DuMont said. “At least, that’s what I call them. I never learned what they’re actually called.”

“How could you not know that?”

He shrugged. “Father Jor never told me. He was the only person I knew when I lived in the tower. No one else was allowed to see me, and he only talked about scriptures, so I don’t know much about the outside, even things as simple as what branch walkers are really called.”

Kharis frowned. “Why don’t you ask us when you come across something you don’t know?”

He looked away. “I don’t want any of you to think I’m stupid.”  

Her frown turned to a grimace. “That was a deer,” Kharis said. “A fawn specifically, which is a baby deer.”

He turned to look at her. “Deer.”

“Right.”

“Hmm…” He hummed. “That,” He said, pointing to a rabbit in the distance. “What is that?”

“What do you call it?” She asked, crouching down next to him with a smile.

“A pawpopper,” He said.

She laughed, but not in a mocking way. “It’s a rabbit,” She said. “What else? I feel like I could do this all night.”

“Would you? I just want to learn,” He said. She’d heard him say that before, but she hadn’t realized how sincere he’d been. She did indeed spend the night walking through the forest with him, trading names of the creatures and plants.

DuMont opened up even more after that, talking more freely and openly, especially with Kharis. Whenever he was confused about something, he’d ask her about it in private and she would explain it to him. He thought she may have told the others, because they also went out of their way to point out interesting things and talk to him about new things he’d never seen. He was grateful they understood and never made him feel dumb.

Several weeks later, after another ogre job, they had all gone to bed for the night, when DuMont got up as everyone was asleep to relieve himself in the woods. When he returned, he noticed Rupert and Sanoh sneaking away from the camp, hand in hand. They had left their belongings, but there seemed to be an urgency in their steps. Curious, he followed.

Despite how large he was, DuMont could move extremely quietly, so the couple never heard or saw him approach. He squatted down, watching as Rupert and Sanoh pressed their faces together, their lips sucking at each other in an odd display. They began to disrobe, showing Rupert’s skinny body and Sanoh’s tiny but voluptuous one. They touched each other’s skin all over, stumbling their way to the ground. Sanoh lay on the ground with Rupert between her legs, his tongue out and pressed against a fleshy entrance located there. She gasped and writhed under him, and he held her hips in place as he suctioned his mouth to the spot, making her moan loudly.

Afterward, Sanoh, despite her petite size, managed to shove Rupert on his back, and DuMont saw his… staff, as he called it… standing straight up. DuMont’s own staff twitched under his rough-hewn trousers, which was a new sensation.

He watched as Sanoh climbed onto Rupert, pushing Rupert’s staff into her entrance and gasping. Rupert gasped as well and grasped her… DuMont didn’t have a word for those. They were scaled, but also soft and squishy and they both seemed to enjoy playing with them.

Sanoh bounced and rocked on Rupert, her breathing coming faster and faster. Rupert grunted and moaned under her, his hips thrusting up into her. After some time of groaning and whimpering, both Sanoh and Rupert cried out as if in pain, their bodies tensing and quivering, and they finally collapsed, Sanoh on Rupert’s chest, his arms around her. They didn’t speak, just lay together, breathing hard, recovering. After a while, Sanoh sat up and grinned down at Rupert, doing the face-pressing thing again. Then they got up and began to clean themselves and redress. DuMont decided this would be a good time to retreat.

As he returned to camp, he saw Kharis coming out of the forest, restrapping her belt around her waist.

“Where were you?” She asked. “Where’s Rupert and Sanoh?”

“They…” DuMont started, pointing. “They’re… I don’t know…”

Kharis’s face split into a knowing grin. “Ah, I see. I’ve caught them sneaking off a few times. They think they’re so discreet.”

“You know what they…?” DuMont asked curiously.

“Ohhhh,” Kharis said softly. “It makes sense you wouldn’t have had the sex talk.”

“Sex talk?” He repeated, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” She said, turning and waving at him. “Come with me, I’ll tell you about it in private, so we don’t wake anyone. It’s sort of an awkward conversation to have.”

He tilted his head the other way like a puppy, but followed her. She led him to the river nearby and told him to sit back against a tree. He complied and she sat down next to him.

“Okay, so, what did you see?”

He described the things he had seen Rupert and Sanoh do. “I thought they were hurting each other at first, but they seemed to like it.”

She laughed softly. “It’s called sex. Most people do it.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good, most of the time. Secondarily, it’s to make babies.”

“Were Rupert and Sanoh trying to make babies?”

Kharis snorted. “I highly doubt it. Rupert’s in no shape to be a dad, and I have my doubts about Sanoh, too.”

“So, they were doing it because it feels good?”

“Yeah,” Kharis confirmed. “Rupert and Sanoh have been together for a long while, I’ve gathered.”

“Traveled together, you mean?”

She shook her head. “No, together together.”

He grumbled uncertainly. “I don’t understand.”

A shocked look crossed her face. “Oh. Oh boy, this is going to be more complicated than I thought. See… Rupert and Sanoh are in love.”

“Love?”

Kharis dragged her fingers down her face and groaned in exasperation. “Okay, so when people, usually two people, but it can be more than that occasionally, feel an attraction or a closeness to each other, and they care about them, it can turn into love. Love is… hard to explain.” She bit her lip and looked into the distance, thinking. “It’s like… I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

DuMont watched her flounder. He’d never known her to not be able to explain something. He thought she knew about everything.

“So sometimes people have sexual feelings. They want to feel good and they want to make their partner feel good, too. So they… have sex. People who love each other, who care very much about each other, tend to have sex a lot.” She tilted her head in thought. “Sometimes people don’t even care about the person they have sex with, though, they just want to feel good. Sometimes people can make themselves feel good. There’s lots of ways to feel pleasure.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

She looked at him, intrigued. “Well, haven’t you ever… touched yourself?”

He placed a hand on his chest. “Like this?”

She laughed a little. “No, I mean…” She pointed at the crux of his legs. His staff jumped again.

“No,” He replied.

She shrugged a little mischievously. “Why don’t you try?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

He grunted. Slowly, he undid his belt and unlaced his trousers, opening them and letting his staff fall free. It was large, proportionate to his size, and made Kharis’s eyes widen.

“That’s a penis, by the way,” Kharis said with a smile. “I mean, there are other names for it, but officially, it’s called a penis.”

“What do I do?” He asked.

“Wrap a hand around it and stroke it up and down,” She said. “Like when you clean your rail after a battle.”

Tentatively, he reached down and took hold of it. It was soft, but was beginning to harden as he touched it. He had awoken sometimes with it hard, but he hadn’t known what to do about it and just waited until it went away. This was different than washing himself. It did… feel kind of good.

“Do you like it?” She asked, watching.

“I… I think so,” He said. “I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

“Then let me help,” She said, standing up and kneeling between his legs. He was surprised, and quite nervous, as she knelt there and took his… penis… in her hands. She needed both to get the job done, but it felt much, much better when she did it than when he did. She bent her head to lick it, and he gasped, his body tensing. She looked up at him and pulled her mouth off of him with a pop.

“Would you like to try what Sanoh and Rupert were doing?” She asked in a low, sultry voice.

“Do you love me?” He asked.

She tilted her head and considered him. “I care about you, DuMont. I don’t know if it’s love, but I care very much about you.”

“I… care for you, too,” DuMont said. “I have for a time.”

“So…? Would you?”

DuMont nodded. “I want to learn.”

She smiled and stood, beginning to undress in front of him. Her skin was flawless and smooth, unlike his. She seemed to him like a statue of a goddess in mortal form.

“You’re pretty big,” She said. “You might have to get me ready to take you.”

“How?”

“Remember what Rupert did to Sanoh with his tongue?” She said, sitting in the soft grass. “You won’t be able to use your mouth, but I bet your tongue is plenty talented.”

DuMont let his tongue spill out of his mouth. It was twice as long as her arm. Her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, tha-that’ll do it.” She lay back and spread her legs. He looked at the flower between them and salivated. His thick tongue pressed itself there, and she moved against it, her head falling back in the grass. He followed her instructions, and before long, she was gasping for breath and begging him not to stop.

She stood up suddenly, dripping and flushed, and pushed him back, kissing his neck and chest. The contact felt different than before: it electrified his body and make his muscles tense. She sat him back against the tree and positioned herself over him, much like Sanoh had done with Rupert, and lowered herself down. Her brows drew together and her mouth opened as she slowly took him inside herself.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. He’d only ever seen that face on people who were in pain.

“No, it feels amazing,” She breathed back, situating herself on top of him. He was also experiencing an incredible feeling being inside. The walls were tensing and contracting around him, and it felt indescribable. At least to him.

“Thrust up,” She instructed him, and he obliged, careful not to hurt her until she shouted, “Harder!” They moved together wordlessly, huffing and moaning, and DuMont thought his heart might explode. This was bliss. This was more than any scripture or book could convey. This was holy. He heard the bells in his head and knew he was right where he was supposed to be.

“Hold me up,” She said breathlessly, putting her arms under her knees and pressing her knees to her chest. He put his massive hands around her sides, his fingers meeting in the back, and held her up, balanced on his lap.

“Thrust hard,” She commanded, and he obeyed. She howled in pleasure, and he himself began to grunt much louder than he intended. He wasn’t quite in control of his volume in this state, but for the first time, he didn’t care.

“Oh, gods,” She said between gasps. “I’m going to cum.”

He didn’t know what that meant, but he was feeling a pressure in his loins that was reaching a boiling point. As the wall of pleasure hit him, he roared for the first time, shouting out his ecstasy for the world to hear. She was also crying out as ribbons of his seed spurted out as quickly as it shot into her. He almost lost his grip on her, but she let go of her legs and tumbled forward onto his chest, wheezing. He was having trouble controlling his breath, as well.

They lay there, much the same as Rupert and Sanoh had done, and he cuddled her against his chest. He was still inside her and wasn’t willing to remove himself just yet. She was so warm against him.

Suddenly she sat up and looked around her in confusion.

“What’s the matter?” DuMont asked.

“Didn’t you hear that?” She asked him.

“No,” He replied. “What did you hear?”

“I could have sworn I heard a church bell tolling in the distance,” She said, still looking around. “It’s awfully strange for a bell to toll in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not strange,” DuMont said, smiling a little. “It’s a blessing.”

She looked at him with a dubious smile, but lay back down on his chest with a satisfied sigh.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[hellshire-harlot]

Story Idea

So I write ideas for stories a lot, and one of the most recent ones I’ve had is one that I really want to write. I won’t spoil the ending of it, but I really would like you guys’ opinions on it and if this is received well, I might publish the first chapter on Wattpad! The story details are under the cut.

The story is called Sailor of Stars and takes place in a fictional fantasy world called Orida. Here are the details:

In a fantasy world, the planet known as Orida has undergone a massive change. The civilization that lives there, known as the Ori, have lived a peaceful, nature-worshipping existence. 59 years ago, an event known as the Star Fall occurred. The stars fell from the skies in tiny pinpricks of radiant light and eventually washed into the world’s water, which began to rapidly rise. Soon, almost no land remained. The stars looked beautiful, but they were actually deadly. If an Ori touched a star, they would be burned profusely, causing death in most situations. A mass death of over 500 million Ori occurred within the 9 day period of the Star Fall. The main character is named Harukah, and her grandfather, Oren, was one of the few who survived. Oren had a small genetic quirk that caused him to be immune to the burning effects of the stars, and so he was able to survive the mass dying. The stars still remain in the ocean, and even in the day they glow brightly. Every so often another Star Fall happens, showering the world, and any unsuspecting Ori, with stars. Harukah inherited the star immunity from her grandfather, allowing her to basically go outside and play in the stars.

The entire reason for the Star Fall and the waters rising were because of the gods. The patron goddess, Ahkria, had deemed the Ori race a failure and sent for the stars to rain down on them and kill them. But some of the other gods disagreed with her and took action. They blessed a select few people with the genetic trait of star immunity. One of those people was Oren. When Ahkria found out about the other gods’ betrayal, she went into a rage. She vowed to find and destroy any and all Ori with star immunity. This includes Harukah.

Ahkria ends up creating a safe haven somewhere in the endless oceans, known as Tyudei. She tells the Ori that anyone there will be safe from the stars forever. She then sets many traps around the haven, as well as deploys mythical monsters as guards. All who attempt the journey are lost at sea, and over the years, Tyudei becomes nothing but a legend.

When Harukah is young, her grandfather tells her stories of Tyudei and how one day, someone will find it and the Ori race will be saved. Her parents discourage Oren from telling these stories, but that doesn’t stop him. Eventually, Ahkria finds out about Oren and rampages through the entire village, killing him and almost everyone else. Harukah’s parents survive the initial event, but are wounded and too weak to hide when a Star Fall occurs and kills them, along with anyone else unlucky enough to still be alive, leaving Harukah as the sole survivor of her village.

8 years in the future, Harukah, now a young woman, is sailing the world in a type of boat called a Sailraft. She meets another character who ends up becoming her love interest. Together they traverse Orida in search of Tyudei so that they can avenge the millions of people that were killed.

This story will include WLW romance, battle scenes, a lot of mythology I’ve cooked up myself, and plenty more cool stuff! I really hope you guys like it because it just popped into my head and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Send me ideas for character names, events, and whatever else if you want to see it in the story! I’d be happy to take your ideas and I’m always looking for feedback. Ciao!

[thescarlettbitch]

How I got into my Craft (and what my Craft entails)

To preface:

I'm an eclectic witch, and my belief system is kinda weird. I have always believed in the existence of other gods (I raised Christian—Baptist—to be specific) ever sense I was super young. Learning about mythologies through Rick Riordan's works (starting with Percy Jackson and the Olympians at 9) only helped to solidify that belief and really get me thinking on gods and goddesses, though most of that came when I was about 13. So I believe that gods from different mythologies exist in semi-stable peace, and whenever they go to war, so do we/our earth/our galaxy even.

Okay, getting past that.

My family was lucky (call it what you will, me and my mom call it a blessing, one sister calls it a curse, the other refuses to call it anything but still acknowledges it) enough to have been gifted what we call Sight. The ability to communicate to the Underworld/Spirit World/whatever you call it, I prefer Underworld or Spirt World. Call us crazy, we've heard it all before.

If you want me to go in detail on that I will, but not right now.

When I was about 13, I think, I felt drawn to certain gods and goddesses, namely Apollo and Artemis. I'd (without knowing what I was actually doing) make offerings. We have a wood burning stove for heat and multiple fire pits so I would use paper plates and leave food on them and burn it, thinking about whatever god/ess was calling to me that day.

I also have family that is Wiccan, and I loved the aesthetic and they would show me things (while within the confines of Wicca). Also, my mother is a very spiritual person, being that she also has Sight, she also believes in crystals and herbs and all of that, which is why I say she's a witch in all but name. She doesn't understand that she can be a Christian witch.

I grew up around metaphysical items. My mom has bought me pendulums and crystals and stones and we've cleansed the house together and set up protections around our property and she's made cages for my clear quartz necklace that broke and she does "prayers" that are really more like spells. My girlfriend in freshman year was Wiccan (is Wiccan), and my pendulum had broke earlier in the year so she and her mom took me to a class at their favorite metaphysical shop and we made pendulums together. Me and mom still shop there, it's where I got my first piece of obsidian, opalite, rose quartz, and my clear quartz necklace (that eventually snapped because I was being rough and my mom then made a cage for it). Also, that shop gave us the contact for a woman who helped us drive negative spirits off of our property and appease the Fae. My mom also does divination using playing cards, but thinks Tarot is the devil's work.

That's why I'm half-closeted, my mom knows to a point, but she doesn't know the extent. My oldest sister also knows to a point. She does Tarot and crystals and herbs as well, so I consider her a witch in all but name as well.

My craft is quite... Odd, but I like it. As I mentioned earlier, I believe in the existence of multiple mythologies, but I only actively worship a few deities, and acknowledge the rest. The deities I worship are mainly minor, and they span a few practices. Mostly though, they are Greek.

They are:

Greek:

Aphrodite

Athena

Artemis

Demeter

Apollo

Hestia

Persephone

Iris

Marcaria

Sappho (technically she was a poet not a goddess but I still regard her as one)

Hygieia

Hecate/Hekate

Norse:

Freyja

Egyptian:

Bastet

You'll notice 99% of them are goddesses and 98% of them are Greek. The goddess thing is because I am a girl and most of the male deities do not speak to me on the same level the females do. The Greek thing is because I know much more about them than I do Norse and Egyptian. I worship whoever speaks to me.

My matron/patrons are Athena, Artemis, Apollo, and Aphrodite.

If you want to know how I worship/more about someone, feel free to leave a message or an ask!

I gather energy from nature. From the grass and trees and flowers and the moon and the stars and animals and the sun, hence the presence of Apollo. Sappho is in there because I'm not straight, and have a very big preference for girls, and she speaks to me. I absolutely adore her poetry and everything about her.

For those wondering, I'm not Wiccan. I do not believe in the Law of Three-Fold or whatever it's called.

Another part of my belief is Fae Folk.

I grew up with horses, and I swear that's relevant.

Our horses lived in a field behind my house before my parents split and we moved in with my step dad (that's the short version). Just about every time we'd get them out, strands of their mane and tails were braided. And I mean braided, with burs and leaves and flowers in it. Like what girls do with their hair, braided. None of us did it. Wanna know how I know? One of my sisters wanted nothing to do with our horses. The other didn't like brushing them/messing with their mane. Dad doesn't do animals. Mom never could because of her health issues. I didn't do it, and I'm pretty sure our dogs didn't do it, and we lived too far away from anyone else for the neighbors to have done it. Also, we live 13 miles away from where I grew up, and it still happens. To this day. It also happens to my friend's and family's horses and cattle. It also happens to our cattle.

Also, we have Fae Circles. Everywhere.

We live on a large plot of land, a farm, with multiple fields. I've walked every inch of the fields and into the wildlife reserve that surrounds us. Fae Circles are everywhere. There is one by my favorite spot at the creek, sometimes I leave offerings in. There is one that a fence cuts through, and many more. I've made nice with the Fae by way of offerings and talking to them. I can hear them occasionally when I set outside in the rain or at the creek.

Another thing, we see them in pictures, constantly. Everywhere we go. We'll be taking pictures and then go through them later and see little balls that look like dust particles or a glare, but when you look closer you can make out tiny bodies.

I can say I want to get into Runes, so that is probably something I'll do soon, and my sister is trying to get me a Tarot deck.

There's a lot more that has also factored into my craft. My sister's friend collects Tarot decks and is also into crystals and herbs. There's the whole ass Sight thing. My roots in the Craft goes deep, way deeper than this.

That's all I've got for now, but here's this lousy explanation. Any questions/comments, feel free to DM or send an ask!