#Marriage Ordinance

[apenitentialprayer]

We declare absolutely that no bishop, presbyter, deacon, or subdeacon may give up the care of his wife in the name of religion, so as not to provide her with food and clothing, though he may not lie with her carnally.

Pope Leo IX, as recorded by Peter Abelard and translated by Betty Radice. Original Latin of Abelard below, followed by the Latin as it is recorded by Saint Ivo of Chartres.

Peter Abelard: Omnino, inquit, profitemur non licere episcopo, presbytero, diacono, subdiacono propriam uxorem causa religionis abicere cura sua, ut non ei victum et vestitum largiatur, sed non ut cum illa carnaliter iaceat. (The History of My Calamities) Ivo of Chartres: Omnio confitemur non licere episcopo, presbytero, diacono, subdiacono propriam uxorem causa religionis abjicere a cura sua, sed ut ei victum et vestitum largiatur, sed non cum illa ex more carnaliter jaceat. (Panormia, Book III, Section CXVI)

[basiltonpitch]

did u guys know i'm a legally ordained minister

[oh-dear-so-queer]

To justify resisting progress in areas like women's ordination, women preaching to men, same-sex marriage and so on, fundamentalist Christian theologians engage in some fancy exegetical footwork. Taking the gendered values of 'traditional' marriage, they read them back into the main biblical texts, like Genesis 1 and 2.

"In/Out: A Scandalous Story of Falling Into Love and Out of the Church" - Steph Lentz

[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[curiosityschild]

Oh God oh fuck my Sunday school class is talking about marriage tomorrow

[k3n-dyll]

♱Sinful Deeds

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, lots of religious themes, internalized homophobia, religious guilt, sex in a church, cheating, blasphemy, reader's husband is an ass, dom!Abby, sub!reader, inexperienced!reader (with women), oral(r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), spit, corruption (?)

𝐖𝐂 - 3k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Read the content warnings, if it's not your thing just scroll ♡ . Also can't lie, I rushed the end a little I'm sorry I need to clear my drafts.

Priest!Abby who worked hard all her life to get where she is. Under her father's encouragement, she's made a good name for herself within a small community in this town. Despite setbacks, of course. To be ordained a priest, and to be a young woman is to be criticized - she'd known that from the beginning. Many people consider her a fraud. Consider her a disgrace amongst the church. Initially, her ordination damn near started a riot in front of the very chapel she preaches in.

That, she figured, would be the worst of it. The defamatory statements and the nasty rumors spread about her character and her morals; many families that had originally attended the church back when her father ran it either reluctantly accepted her or left the congregation entirely.

She had her days, of course. Where the rude comments and the disrespect nearly got to her. Nearly caused her to drop any semblance of professionalism within her body and let herself get angry. But with her trust in God and her strength of faith - all of the bitterly uttered words about her, the vitriol thrown her way - it slid right off of her like water off of a ducks feathered back.

If you were to ever ask her, she'd say that her real problems began with you. The day you had walked into the chapel in the midst of her sermon which was - ironically enough - pertaining to marriage, and sat down with your husband in the very back pew so as not to disturb anyone with your tardiness. It's almost shameful how vividly she remembers the dress you'd worn that day; a pretty, pale yellow number that stopped just above your ankles. The color combined so beautifully with your skin and brought out your eyes even from her place up front, the pleats of the modest dress flowing around your legs with each quiet step you'd taken. She'd been so tempted to take her speech elsewhere to get a better look at you. Tempted to stray from her stance behind the pulpit just to stare at you up close.

Temptation. The issue you had brought with your presence alone. Abby couldn't blame you, of course, she'd been dealing with these urges since she was a teenager and well...she's not perfect by any means. She's had her fair share of one-night stands and flings - a much looser version of herself that she normally keeps well hidden from the members of her church.

She'd been damn near giddy when she finally got the chance to speak to you once the service was over, only to find herself disappointed again at the way your husband seemed to interject himself into any conversation she attempted to start with you.

"Hello..." She said, a small smile plastered on her lips. Despite the way she had trained herself to speak to every person in the church with a similar, if not the same amount of intrigue and attention, her eyes never once left you as she spoke. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting either of you before?" You nodded, offering a polite smile back to her, but before you could even open your mouth to say something, your husband had piped up, introducing himself first, and then you as his wife.

Over time, Abby began to notice that it's a quite common behavior for your husband - the man often using your learned timidity as an opportunity to speak over you at every turn. And he often gets his way.

She'd seen it before. In the church, it's a tale as old as time; a man on a power trip marries a young woman who's likely been taught how to be a good and 'proper' wife from the moment she was born - quiet, submissive, a pretty doll that he can have on his arm but never actually have to listen to.

Priest!Abby who, after giving her sermons, preaching to others about self-control, and willing themselves against sin - finds herself with her hand stuffed down her boxers late at night in her bed, thick fingers curled deep into her pussy, a small, pink bullet pulsating in the other against her clit, touching herself to the thought of you. You're so sweet, and quiet, and delicate... and breakable. The image of you beneath her naked, writhing and panting underneath her touch is so clear in her mind, the blonde practically whimpering as she cums at the thought of your pretty body being so overwhelmed with pleasure that you shake and twitch at the lightest brush of her fingers.

She figured she'd never have you. As much as she craved it, as much as she wanted to trail her hands along your bare curves, Abby knew well in her mind that you would stay loyal and dedicated to the man you married. Still, the day you come to her alone with the intent to confess, excitement wells up in in her at the potential opportunity.

Saturday afternoons for Abby were generally the same, spending her time sitting on the other side of the partition in the small confession booth and listening to the perceived wrongdoings of those in her congregation. Most of the time she doesn't remember. She doesn't even put in the effort to recognize the voices of those she advises, as figuring out who committed what sin and who didn't isn't really what she's here for, but the moment she hears your voice - that soft, melodic tone of yours that she's fantasized about for weeks on end - she can't seem to help herself.

You aren't used to this kind of thing - it's never gotten this bad to the point where you feel you need to confess...but you can only run from your own mind so much. The silence is deafening as you settle yourself into the booth, and it only serves to make you more nervous. You can hear the subtle sound of Abby's breathing, the rhythmic thumping of your own heart pumping. Shakily, you sign the cross over your body, nipping at the very tip of your thumbnail before you speak.

"Forgive me...for I have sinned" you murmur. "This...this is my first confession."

You speak a lot more than you had originally intended, spilling your guts to the woman on the other side of the screen, the somewhat private setting making it easier for you to let go of everything you'd been suppressing. Abby's almost shocked to hear about your struggles with your urges. Your desires to be with someone that isn't your husband. With someone that isn't even a man in the first place. Years of training herself is the only thing that stops her from showing her irritation at the way you deem these things deeply immoral as well as, selfishly, her elation at the idea that she may have a chance.

Abby is silent for a moment after you finish speaking, letting herself sit with her thoughts, trying and failing not to allow her own greedy desires consume her mind though unbeknownst to her, her quiet only causes the pit of dread in your stomach to swell. It's when she clears her throat that you tense up even more, preparing yourself to be scolded, or worse, kicked out. You've seen it happen before - people shunned and shamed for so much as thinking of the same sex in that way.

"You aren't in any trouble child, calm down." She says finally and you realize you've been tapping your nails rhythmically against the wooden wall. Though she can't see you, you nod and stop, transferring the little assault to your thigh.

Abby knows full well that she should just wrap this up. She should give you something to do - tell you to say a prayer, to beg Christ for mercy on your soul in hopes that these 'immoral' thoughts stop weighing on you, but Abby of all people knows that it doesn't work that way. Not with this.

Before Abby can stop herself, she's already asked you up to her office, shocked by the lack of resistance to her request. Closing the door behind her, she stands, eyeing your frame as you take a seat in front of her desk. She can practically see the anxiety seeping through your pores - the constant tapping at your leg, the shifting in your spot. Without much thought, she walks over and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently to calm you down.

"This isn't something I typically do." She starts. "I honestly probably shouldn't be doing this right now at all, but I do think we need to talk. No judgment, no barriers, okay?"

You nod but your body is still rigid, the warmth of her large palm on your shoulder is almost enough to send tingles through your body, guilt swarming in your gut at the unconscious reaction.

"I could just send you on your way. I could tell you to repent and beg and plead with God to make you better but..." Abby sighs, removing her hand from your shoulder to stand at her desk, leaning up against it to face you as she tries to think of ways to word what she wants to say. "...I don't want to lie to you."

"Lie to me?" You ask, dumbfounded, to which Abby just chuckles quietly. She knows what the Bible says is law to you, and to hear a priest refute that in any way is likely confusing.

"What I'm saying is: this isn't something that can be prayed away. No matter how badly you may want it to be, it simply isn't."

You shake your head at her words, finding it ridiculous. Or at least you want to, but deep down you know she's right. You've tried praying more than enough times to know that it will end in nothing changing. Still, you're stubborn.

"But my husband. I-I love him"

"Do you?"

"I-" The lie dies in the back of your throat. The fact that you can't bring yourself to answer confidently, or at all for that matter is all the confirmation Abby needs. A beat of silence passes before Abby says anything else, giving you time to sit in your lack of certainty before moving on.

"That's not to say I don't have a...solution in mind" As she speaks, she inches close until she's standing directly in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at her towering frame above your seated one. Your senses suddenly feel foggy, the scent of pine and musk filling your nose, your eyes unable to focus anywhere but on the stretched fabric outlining her biceps and torso. You could swear she wears a uniform that size just to show off. You blink a few times in a failed attempt to snap yourself out of it.

"I thought you said there was no way to fix it"

Abby's eyes darken, a soft chuckle escaping her at your words. "No. It can't be 'fixed', honey. Desires like that don't just go away... but they can be satiated. Temporarily at least." Gently, she catches your chin between her thumb and forefinger to keep you looking at her.

"I'm...I'm married, it wouldn't be right. I can't do that to him.." You start in half-hearted protest, the implication of her words clear. Your eyes shift to the side, though you make no move to pull away.

"He isn't a factor right now. My focus is you" The pad of her thumb lightly grazes against your lower lip. "Look, I won't push you. If that's not something you want to do, I understand, but really, how long do you think you can keep pretending, hm ? How long until you break?"

Your eyes flutter as she leans closer, the sensation of her warm breath on your skin sending shivers through your spine.

"I've been so...good at pretending..." Your voice is little more than a whisper, melting into her touch despite the alarms going off in your mind. You push it back. "I don't think I can do it anymore..."

"Oh, baby I know..."

It's only a split second between the words leaving her mouth and her lips pressing against yours, her strong palms cupping your cheeks. Though her hands are rough to the touch her hold on you is gentle. Reverent, even. Her fingers ghosting along your skin as if you're a precious jewel she's afraid to shatter. It's slow, yet overwhelming - her kisses tracing a path from your lips to your neck, from neck to collarbone. You feel her begin to massage your thighs, kneading them over the fabric of your dress before getting impatient and slipping them just underneath it.

You should be disgusted with yourself. Disgusted with her. With this. But the ungodly, hungry way at which she kisses and nips at your flesh only brings on an excitement within you that feels almost wild. Like something that had been leashed and caged within you was finally let free. You should pray. But instead of clasping together your hands begin to weave into Abby's hair, gripping and tugging at it to keep her close. The priestess whines at the sensation and you swear her knees buckle. That or her will is hanging by an invisible thread because she sinks to her knees in front of you.

"Let me taste you.." She breathes out, her gaze shifting from your face to your thighs, her hands still rubbing at them, slowly inching the skirt of your dress up further.

You think to hesitate but your body may as well be on autopilot, the mere thought of having her head between them enough to slowly pry your legs open without much coaxing. It'd be embarrassing if Abby didn't seem just as desperate as you.

Her hand slips between your thighs the second they're apart, a thick finger trailing along your slit just over your panties, the wet spot that's formed there amusing to her.

"See what I do to you?" She asks, a small, cocky smirk playing at her lips. "He could never get you like this, we both know it"

All you can do is give a pathetic nod and an even more pitiful whine as Abby teases you, her face inching closer until she's nosing your clothed clit, vivid blues unblinking as she takes in your reaction.

"Please, Abby..." You plea needily, voice cracking despite your attempts to sound stable.

She's merciful to you, wasting no time or words in pushing your panties to the side, parting her lips to allow her mouth to water freely, the coolness of her saliva sliding along your slit sending a jolt of electricity through your senses. Her fingers are first, the blonde collecting the slick mixture of spit and arousal to coat the two of the digits and carefully pushing them inside before she flicks her tongue teasingly against your clit.

Maybe you should feel guilt for this - unashamedly allowing a member of the clergy of all people, to defile you in such a way in a holy place. Throwing your head back, clasping your hands against the armrests of your seat, moaning and whining obnoxiously under the corruption of her tongue. Maybe you would feel guilty. If only it didn't feel so fucking good.

A loving deity would not deprive you of this feeling, at least that's how you justify it in your head as you cry out for more, eyes screwed shut as previously suppressed vulgarities spill past your lips.

"Abby, fuck, just like that - please!" Your cries are loud, tone little less than whorish in nature. "F-feels so fucking good, oh God"

Abby chuckles against you at that, but she doesn't speak. While the irony of you calling out for God amuses her somewhat, she can't tease. She can barely bring herself to pull away from you, her mouth and chin covered, glistening with your wetness, fingers ruthlessly sloshing in and out of your fluttering walls. You're like a drug to her in this moment. Something to be desired. Worshipped.

She finds her free hand stuffed down her slacks, her own core throbbing with need as she admires the pornographic image of your body writhing before her. The low vibrations that come from Abby's muffled moans only send you that much closer to the edge. Only that much closer to the release your body has practically been begging for and yet could never receive at the hands of your husband.

When your thighs clamp against her head, her jaw worn and slightly pained, she doesn't let up even a little bit, lapping at you with her tongue as if watching you unravel was critical to her existence. It just might be with how intently she stares up at you, not letting a drop of your cum escape her mouth as you finally let go, fingers still slipping in and out of you in languid motions. Abby's completely disregarded her own need in place of your own, her hand stilled in her boxers, something she only realizes when you begin to calm down.

"You didn't-" You start to question her, pushing golden strands away from her freckled face with your hand when you notice.

"It's okay, baby" She interrupts, her words coming as a pleased murmur. "This wasn't about me"

You shake your head a little, but before you can protest she's pulled you toward her, her pink puffed lips catching your own in a messy kiss, strings of saliva and cum breaking between your mouths with each breath taken. You let it happen for a while. It's oddly...comfortable. A sense of warmth calming your body in a way it hasn't in a long time before this.

As if on cue, a loud, grating tune breaks the illusion. The sound of a phone ringing. Your phone.

The 4 missed calls from your husband stare reality back into you both and utter dread sends that all too familiar chill through your bones once again.

Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist

Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages, @misfits-army-van,

@andersonfilms,

[themontess]

Some writing inspo for the Emmrich fans this morning, may I present: my late Uncle Frank.

Frank put the gentle in gentleman and to this day, I've never met anyone so consistently well groomed, well kept, and genuinely pleasant to be around. He:

Showered and shaved every day. This took a good 20-30 minutes and we had to either let him get ready first or make him go last, or the rest of us would never get a decent shot at all having time in the bathroom.

Wore the same aftershave consistently, Brut, which is described as citrus top notes with hints of spicy woods.

Once dyed his hair when I was around 5 years old to cover the greys (he had brown hair as a younger man) and I disliked it so much he never did it again. He had gorgeously natural grey hair for the rest of his life - again always well kept and trimmed.

Used to co-ordinate his boxers and socks. My Aunty Mo, bless her, only realised this after 40+ years of marriage, and the story came up at his funeral.

Had a perpetual supply of clean pressed handkerchiefs, which were distributed to guests at his funeral.

Did all the ironing throughout his marriage.

Had specific clothes he wore for specific activities. He would not wear his day clothes to do the gardening, or play with me, etc.

Bought my Aunty Mo the same Yardley's English Lavender bathing products every year for Christmas.

Could never be trusted to share an ice cream or a can of soda.

Read the newspaper every day, and would always walk to the shop to buy it.

Anyway. Maybe this helps with writing everyone's favourite Thedas silver fox and/your blorbos ❤️

[saintmuses]

❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Soft!Dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

Ada’s best friend had been much of a family. When she was requested for her hand in marriage to another, perhaps she was too much of a family.

Warning(s): slightly Dub-con. Inappropriate touching. Possessive!Thomas. Implied Jealousy. Threat. Controlling. Minors, dni! Note: this is a mini series, so there will be three parts.

Word Count: 963

She had remembered the feeling the first time she had met Thomas Shelby. He was a kind of person who laughed with a twinkle in his eyes.

She was seventeen when she became Ada’s first friend in Birmingham, and she had only got to meet him for a few months before he enlisted for the Great War. After he came back, his pale blue eyes cascaded in ice, and he didn’t laugh or smile anymore. However, he became more receptive towards her, always having eyes on her as if she was a member of his family or Peaky Blinders.

Ada’s painted lips grew taut as she looked at her apologetically. “Oh, about that…” she trailed off with a sigh as a response to her impending marriage proposal with the man she had been going steady with for a while now.

“What is it, Ada?”

“You would need to consult with Tommy about that. Although I don’t think you should…” Ada trailed off, realizing she had said too much.

Her eyes narrowed at the Shelby sister, catching onto what she was not saying. “And why not?”

Ada hesitated, “I’ve heard that Edward already asked for your hand, but evidently Tommy did not give his blessing.”

Her blood ran cold at the implication of not being able to marry Edward. “Why do I need to ask Tommy for permission to walk down the aisle?” She questioned, fiddling with the hem of her coat. “I’m not really a part of this family.”

“Well, Tommy already considered you as a part of the Shelby family, otherwise he would not let you attend the meetings.” Ada pointed out, flicking off an invisible lint off her coat.

“You mean to tell me that I have to consult with Tommy with any decisions I make regarding my future?” She enunciated each word slowly, but with tension filled with anger. Ada’s gaze turned sympathetic.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you are not the only one.”

“No,” she said sharply as she fumed internally. Her eyes flashed in irritation. “Because he has already gotten involved with making decisions for my future that has nothing to do with the business of the Shelby family.”

Slamming the doors open with a soft bang, she stormed into his office without glancing at Lizzie who was about to greet her.

“Thomas!” She shouted, gritting her teeth.

He barely looked up from his paperwork that was scattered around on his ordinate desk. “Y/N,” he said simply, placing his pen aside.

She heard Lizzie closing the doors behind her so no one else could interrupt them.

“I heard you received a visitor recently,” she prodded angrily, eyebrows raising to prompt him to speak.

He heaved a sigh which bristled her, and she crossed her arms when he ran his hands down his face before rubbing his eyes as if he just received a headache.

I swear this man-

His words interrupted her internal tirade. “He asked me for your hand in marriage,” he said calmly, intertwining his fingers on top of the desk. “And I said no.”

“And why not?”

He pushed himself out of the chair, grabbing a decanter to pour himself a fresh drink of Irish whiskey. “Because it does not benefit the family if you were to marry a man like him.” Her eye twitched slightly when she heard the glass met wood as he placed the tumbler back on the desk.

“A man like-“ she cut herself off, trying again before anger got the best of her. “He’s respectable, he has wealth which he would be able to provide support for his and my future family, and-“

“And I said no, Y/N.” He said sharply, interrupting her which effectively caused her to close her mouth. His words were stern as he stared down at her with icy blue eyes. 

She looked at him in disbelief, a sense of chill ran through her veins when things did not connect, fitted like pieces of a puzzle. “You can’t make choices for me.”

His lips quirked slightly, “you’ll find that I can.”

Her eyebrows slowly furrowed as she stared up at him, observing his expression. 

Before she could lunge out of the armchair, away from the office, and away from him, he had already anticipated her move, reaching for her.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her to him, gripping her tightly with a clenched jaw and unbridle danger lurking in his strict gaze.

“Careful, sweetheart.” He warned her softly; However, his tone gave away to the threat that was simmering underneath the surface. 

Her bottom lip trembling as she peered up at him with glistening eyes. “Why would you do that?” She asked quietly, voice shaking inaudibly. “Why would you get involved with my life when it doesn’t even benefit you to begin with?” 

He didn’t say anything yet as his thumb teased the waistband of her skirt before his fingers lightly skimming down between her thighs, brushing her cunt over the thin opaque material and her underwear. 

She was shocked by how reactive her body was to his ghostly touch. She shook her head, looking pleadingly into his cold eyes for some sense of mercy.

He tilted his head before he pressed down hard on her clit through multiple layers of fabrics. She gasped, her entire body jerking at the unfamiliar combination of pleasure and a twinge of pain that seemed to render her immobile, not without a shudder.

He then leaned his head forward, closing the distance between their faces. He lightly brushed his lips against hers, barely touching. “Because if you were going to marry anyone, it would be me.” He murmured, his voice was dangerous as he stared deeply into her eyes before releasing her, stepping away from her presence.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[stra-tek]

Random spoilerific reasons to read Star Trek novels, with little to no context:

Ro/Quark is a thing

A Jem'Hadar joins DS9, tries to fit in but eventually snaps and tries to kill everybody

You learn the origins and final fate of the Borg

A thinly-veiled Dr. House clone joins the Voyager crew

Geordi briefly has 2 girlfriends at once (due to different writers not co-ordinating enough, but still)

There's a TOS book that's a musical

There are YA stories about Jake and Nog making mischief on DS9

YA stories about Worf, Geordi, Picard, Beverly, Kirk, Spock and McCoy at SFA

YA series about the Kelvinverse gang (including Gaila!) as cadets, taking on a drug problem at SFA and a very unique Borg scout in San Francisco

We very briefly meet the people who are to Q what the Q are to humanity

Janeway/Chakotay is a thing

Kirk's first mission in command of the Enterprise! Erm, at least twice.

Kirk was married between TOS and TMP

Her name was Lori

In the future, you have yearly marriage contracts that you either update or you don't and I think that's amazing

Trip didn't die! He faked his death to join Section 31 and go undercover as a Romulan

It's not great, tbh

The ENT books get better after the Romulan wars though, it's proper founding of the Federation stuff

We meet Jack Crusher (erm, the OG) when 4 timelines start overlapping and he's a bit unhinged

Teenage Kirk stole a car and his choice was go to jail or join Starfleet

What happened when Voyager got home? Seven broke up with Chakotay like 30 pages in

Kirk gets cloned, and his clone becomes the sub of an evil invincible super genius and its all very gay

George Kirk was Robert April's first officer on the first ever mission of the unnamed starship with the Naval Construction Contract 1701

Robert is a hard-core pacifist and has to turn command over to George whenever it's time to fire weapons

Data becomes fully human for a couple of days and it's really sweet

They never say "wristwatch" or "phone", it's always "wrist chrono" or "personal comm"

There are gays but they don't say that word because it's the 1990's and Rick Berman runs the franchise

Spock has a son in the past with Zarabeth

Everyone in the post-Nemesis era does spy missions all the time non stop, as if Starfleet has abandoned exploring the cosmos for doing Space Mission: Impossible

Bashir does it better than anyone else, he takes on Section 31 from the inside

Remember Control? It's from the novels, except the novels do it SO MUCH BETTER.

Remember how we never found out who Future Guy was? We do.

It's very underwhelming, nobody we know

We find out how the Romulans and Vulcans split

Surak was a Vulcan internet blogger

A Borg Cube eats Pluto

Janeway dies

Janeway gets better

At least one TOS book features a wizard

There's a Star Trek TOS/Here Come the Brides crossover novel

It had cameos from The Doctor (as in, Who), Han Solo, Starbuck and others

Whole book series about Section 31

Whole book series about the Department of Temporal Investigations

One time they do the Bill and Ted thing to escape confinement and it works

Wanna know how Riker and Troi met?

Wanna know what Picard got up to on the Stargazer?

Andorians have 4 sexes and it's very complicated

Data comes back from the dead as Data 2.0, and it was fresh and exciting because it happened long before ST: Picard did it twice.

Lal comes back too and we get father/daughter android stuff! They have a home and everything but keep having to save the universe

One time Mirror Seven is led around on a leash naked on Terok Nor

Geordi becomes captain of the USS Challenger, decides it's not for him because plot, and goes back to engineering on the Enterprise

Kirk is shot on the bridge and dies

Kirk gets better

They watch 3D holos of old Doctor Who episodes in the Enterprise rec room

The Enterprise also has an AI named Moira, which was Zora long before Zora

The TOS crew get together for one last mission. About three times.

There's a Perry Mason book except it's about Kirk's lawyer from that TOS episode

Data 2.0 owns and runs a massive gambling empire on Orion

Spock keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Scotty keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Bones keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

You're on Tumblr so you already know about Killing Time

There's a guy named McKenzie Calhoun and he's a total badass and captains a ship of weirdos and misfits

Kirk comes back from the dead, saves the galaxy repeatedly, has an intersex child (who identifies as male) with a Romulan/Klingon hybrid

Kirk beats up Worf

Kirk's child has superpowers

Kirk's child saves the galaxy at age 6

The Kirk stuff is 100% ignored in the other novels

About 50% of the novels are ignored in the other 50%, and the ones that are meant to be in direct continuity with each other aren't always quite

Just like the TV shows and movies, then

Lwaxana Troi meets Q, and it goes as well as you'd expect

Someone tells Data, yes you idiot you had emotions all along and he's like, oh shit you're right

McCoy is left in command of the Enterprise as a joke by Kirk, who is then immediately kidnapped

Ro Laren is captain of Deep Space Nine

Picard/Beverly is a thing, they get married and have a child named Rene. No running away and raising your kid in secret here

Riker and Troi are married, serve on the Titan together with a bunch of adorable weirdos and have a daughter named Tasha

You get to watch all the 24th century characters die horribly in the end along with their entire universe. Holy fuck it's a bleak horror show. Personally, I love it. But if that's not your cup of tea I'd skip the Coda trilogy

[livingdeadmlm]

Low honor Arthur Morgan redemption with a Priest 4/31

Pronouns: reader is referred to as a man

Physical Sex: AMAB

How far are things going?: not full sex but some slight head and dirty talk

Warnings: bit of shame, priest reader didn’t think gay people were being fr, a bit of corruption kink, talks of previous parts Arthur has had, lewd acts in an empty church

Outline: Arthur has had a change of heart recently, but once he sits in the confessional booth with you late at night he can’t help old habits as he teases you, and not knowing better you internalize it.

What inspired me to write how I did: the crappy priest romance book I got lol

Other: hopefully I will make this a few parts! 3446 words 😭 this is very different from my usual writing as I wanted it to be more detailed and flow better let me know what you think!

Swearing chastity when becoming a priest was not hard for you. You never had the desire to lay with a woman outside of marriage. You were praised for being so devoted to God that you didn't consider marriage a life goal. Your devotion to God was more vital than the desire to get married, which you were praised for during your ordination. Something your brothers in Christ had expressed was challenging for you when traveling and helping locals.

It pained you to hear, but over the last decade, it made you learn how to comfort other men and women with their desires and maintain themselves for marriage. Giving tips and tricks, you were never truly sure worked but heard from others how much they did. Besides your unsureness of how well those tips worked, many men and women found comfort in you. While confessional booths were all about privacy and anonymity, many of the women you advised claimed to be able to tell it was you due to the ‘energy’ that surrounded you.

Once you stepped into the booth, one person after another stepped into the warm space and opened up about what they felt ashamed of. While you kept privacy, you did remember the voices you were hearing, and today was a completely new one. This voice was gruff; it must belong to an older man much like yourself.

A new voice, as well as being an older man, made your heart swell. You believed it was never too late to turn to God and find comfort in religion. With how stubborn the men in town were, it made you happy to see one come in and swallow their pride.

"Mother Superior sent me here; she said you could 'lend me an ear' on what's happening." A smile graced your face as you fondly thought of Mother Superior. She was a great woman, especially for the work she did and her enjoyment of it.

"Well, good Sir, what has been happening you wish to speak about?" a low sigh came from next to you as the man began to explain a recent change of heart he was experiencing. He opened up more and more as the time ticked by. About harming people at the start it was those who had been awful he noticed the bar for awful things was getting lower and lower causing him to harm people who hadn’t done anything wrong. What he needed most at this moment was not advice but someone to hear him, and that's what you wanted to provide. His explanations of almost everything he's been going through and what he put others through, if they were not scary and authentic, you'd commend him for being a fantastic storyteller.

He reached a point where he would hesitate more and more when telling you things.

"Mister, you don't have to tell me everything in one session, right? You can always return on a new day or even when I'm open later at night! Sometimes, people have things on their minds before bed that stop them from sleeping." Your voice was soft, not to push the man away but to let him know he had space to get comfortable. As you sat in the confessional, the tension hung thick in the air, almost palpable. Your heart raced, grappling with the weight of the man's confession. His voice's unspoken truths and struggle lingered, creating an electric atmosphere that made the booth feel smaller like without the wood separating you too you would be intertwined.

Though you encouraged him to leave and take his time when opening so much you found yourself drawn to the warmth of his presence, a magnetic pull that ignited an unfamiliar spark within you. His hesitant gaze and the helplessness etched on his face were something you couldn't see or know was happening. Still, if you could, it would stir something profound in your chest, an unexpected desire to comfort him beyond the constraints of your roles. It made you crave to reach out, to reassure him that he was seen and understood. The thought of simply offering a hand, of shattering the barriers between you, felt equally exhilarating and terrifying.

"It's not that, Father (Name). I just have a lot of history with women and even men. I'm not sure you're too keen on hearin' it." Had the booth not had a screen, you would have been a bit embarrassed for him to see you so red.

"Uh, I am not sure what you mean by history. Do you mean violent? We've spoken of that so far. I understand that-"

"No, Father (Name), you've never heard of men bedding up with other men?" Your stomach jumped. You had heard of the verse but have yet to consider it something people did. It's a struggle some men could have, and you never put much more thought behind it.

"I am aware of it on a surface level, but I can help you, as I have many other women and men struggling with adultery." A grunt could be heard on the other side of the confessional booth, and the man sighed, "Okay then, How about this, Father (Name)," there was rustling of the man standing up. "I'll be back about 11:30 to discuss this with you; the things I've done shouldn't be spoken about in the daylight." You craved to reach out and reassure him that he was seen and understood, yet the boundaries loomed large. He bid you bye as the door opened and shut, letting in a tiny sliver of sun.

His impending return felt like a double-edged sword. You wanted to be there for him, to help him navigate his shadows. Still, crossing into more profound, more complicated territory made you uneasy. Questions swirled in your mind—were you genuinely able to help him? Would your inexperience be what holds you back for good this time? You sat in the booth, an odd, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach as you realized you had to prepare for tonight's meeting. While innocent as it was to help a man find the light, it felt like something you had to hide. Meeting so late into the night.

As the sun set, you felt a stir in your stomach. You had your bible, attempting to find a proper way to go about the conversation later. As you looked, all you could feel was nervous, many thoughts swarming your head. Men had come in and described their acts with women, and you were more than clear-headed on the steps they needed to take. But this man, having already acted on the thoughts he had about men, made you think of sodomy as an old law you deemed unfair. To punish those for private acts in their homes. And if true love existed in the act, how could god punish that? Were there other ways to share love between men? That could be something to ask.

Nightfall came, and you were having a late dinner when you went to the confessional booth. Candles burned across the church, offering a gentle light. As you glanced up, you saw a large man enter the booth. Fearing you were late, you quickly followed his steps and sat in the booth.

"Good evening, Father (Name). I am glad you are open so late. I am glad to speak of these times."

"Of course, what about these? Relations are keeping you up, mister—" "Morgan." "I'm sorry?" "You can call me Arthur Morgan." There was silence for a second. You smiled, having a name for the mystery man. "Well, Mister Morgan! What about these relations keep you from sleeping?" There was slight shuffling from the man as he cleared his throat.

"I've stopped seeing men and women that way the last few months, but I miss it. At night, I can't help but want the warmth of someone else next to me, to know who's next to me, feeling their best." His voice was low and soft, and you subconsciously leaned close to the screen to hear him.

The gentle flicker of candlelight danced around the booth, casting shadows against the box. Arthur's voice, low and tinged with longing, pulled you in even further, creating an intimate cocoon that felt almost sacred. "You talk of these connections," you replied softly, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. "It's clear how much you crave that closeness." The moment's intimacy sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in further, the barrier between you both seeming to dissolve.

"It's not just the physical interactions I miss. It's the intimacy—how another person can make you feel alive and understood." You could sense the ache in his words, and your heart responded with an unfamiliar flutter. "I never feel more alive than when I have someone pretty exhausted next to me."

The tight feeling was back in your stomach. "Well, Mister Morgan, the only real sins you commit in these cases are ones of the flesh; God does not punish those as harshly as they are the easiest to commit." there was a chuckle from Arthur. "As I speak to you, father, something tells me you have no experience with this whole thing. You've never experienced this before, have you, father (Name)?" You laughed and shifted in your seat. "You got me there, Mister Morgan; I've never so much as had a girlfriend!" There was silence from Arthur. You could hear your name echo; his voice was so captivating.

"Though my personal experience or lack thereof in these cases isn't important when it comes to helping you." The church was hushed there wasn’t another soul in the church as everyone had long since gone home. Crickets chirped as the silence got longer and longer.

“I know you never mentioned that forgiveness from god is a goal of yours; however, I do think he will forgive! Just sodomy is looked down upon by many people as it's a part of an old set of laws-"his gruff voice interrupted your own, "so no sodomy and two men can lay together?" His inquisitive tone sent a pleasant spark in your abdomen. You sat in thought as you attempted to remember the condemnation of other acts when you remembered your curiosities from this afternoon.

"I do wonder, Mister Morgan, other than, um, sodomy, what else do two men partake in?" Your voice felt small and strained. It felt inappropriate to ask as if it was invasive. His laughter filled the space again, warm and inviting, as if he could sense the heat radiating from you through the wall separating you both. At that moment, the line between priest and man blurred, and the night deepened.

“Some men just like kissin' Father. Most brush it off as an in-the-moment type thing. They were ‘too drunk and didn’t realize.’ But they knew the mouth they were swapping spit with was a man. Maybe even some grabbing and rubbing.” You now felt incredibly top-heavy, as if your legs would struggle to support you if you stood.

You could only imagine what grabbing went on and rubbing. You felt flushed at the idea of such closeness with a man. Was this how homosexuals felt? An ache in their groin to be near a man, not for sex but just passionate closeness? Was the main thing that pushed you to this work not some blessing from God but just Homosexual tendencies?

But he continued, “Some men even love another man’s mouth on them. Did ya know that Father (Name)? A man taking another man in his mouth?” His tone was curious, but you missed his intentions in provoking you. Sure, he was here to become a better person. But even a saint would become desperate to see your face tighten at the most minor touches you’ve ever experienced. The slacks you wore under your cassock felt uncomfortable. They never felt so glued to your body. The extra fabric of your cassock gave you more coverage, but you couldn’t feel more exposed.

“No, I, um, uh, wasn’t aware of that, Mister Morgan. I didn’t know the options two men had when bedded together.” You felt like you were gasping for air as you spoke as if the air from your words was being sucked out of you by Arthur.

“Is there anything else that keeps you at night with these memories, Mister Morgan?” Your stomach felt tight. The atmosphere in the booth was intense and hot. While you wanted to help, you also wished things would. Cool down and not feel overwhelmed.

"I’ve just been feeling lonely. I miss sleeping next to someone most nights—someone who doesn’t leave before I open my eyes in the morning." His voice sounded sad, bringing the warm feelings in your head back down to earth.

"God is with you every night, Mister Morgan," you said, clearing your throat as you gazed through the screen that separated you. You could make out his side profile, but there are no specifics. "Of course, you can’t hug or kiss God. But you can feel His presence with you. I’m also here for you, Mister Morgan. The whole church is! If you need company, there’s always someone here during regular business hours." You heard his boots scrape against the floor on the other side of the booth.

"I suppose you're right, Father. I'll come again. You're quite nice. It's sweet how much you try to understand. Do you get rewarded for your work?" Your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies at the question. You did your best to explain that you received physical rewards for helping others. Still, the joy of assisting was reward enough. Even being asked that question was a reward for all your efforts.

Though Arthur believed you loved your work, he offered: "I just think such a hardworking and kind man deserves more than just praise. How about a nice night out for dinner and some sightseeing? Whenever you're ready, Father (name), just let me know, and we can go off on such a trip—just the two of us."

The booth's screen hid his features, but you could tell he was facing you now, taking your breath away.

This was against the booth's code of conduct. You shouldn't know his name; you shouldn't be looking at him. But you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to open the doors or tear off the screen between you. You want to see the man you have been speaking to for so long, even if it was only a few hours.

“That’s a very kind offer, Mister; maybe one day when folks around here don’t need me as much! I’d love to visit a whole new town.” Your hand reached up for the screen before stopping yourself. “However, Mister Morgan, maybe these plans would be better out of confessional and when I can see you. Of course, what happens here stays in here and will not be mentioned in our free time out of it, but I do believe in stranger danger!”

As you spoke, a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips, hoping to lighten the mood. “It sounds silly, but sometimes when I think of going to a new town, I can't help but imagine wearing some normal clothes like the rest of you cowboys wear.”

“Maybe we could have that arranged someday, Father (Name).”

The night had finally ended as you heard Arthur bid you goodnight, leaving with a soft click of the confessional door. You sighed gently to yourself as you opened your confessional door and noticed a few candles had gone out. Take the small matchbox from your pocket. As you turned slightly, there was the warmth of a hand around your torso, and a soft laugh sounded through the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You glanced up, surprised to see Arthur's playful grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"I thought Ya could use a little help with the ambiance," he said, adjusting the hat that now perched softly on your head. The playful gesture sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing as you felt the closeness between you. The flickering of the last few candles cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a personal atmosphere.

"Thank you so much, Mister Morgan; I was just about to relight these," you replied, motioning toward the candles. His presence was comforting, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you struck a match and brought it to the wick, the flame danced with a life of its own, illuminating Arthur's features. He moved closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Sometimes all you need is a little light to guide the way." His hand slid down the front of your cassock, and his much rougher hand groped your stiff hard-on.

“Just no sodomy and God will forgive you right?” His other hand mushed your chest around. You slightly cried, ashamed of the subconscious humping into Arthur’s hand. Ashamed that in front of the son of god, you gave in so easily to another man's advances.

While you had almost no exposed skin on your neck that did not stop Arthur from latching onto it. His hands never stopped rubbing and smooshing. You stumbled forward to a pew, your legs couldn’t hold you up for much longer.

Arthur’s hard-on pressed against your back as his grunts and moans filled your ears. “Could you forgive me Father (Name)?” Your eyes squeezed shut feeling overwhelmed at the licking and sucking onto your skin. The sucking stung in a way that it felt like a punishment for enjoying it. His mo and grunts replayed in your mind as his hands went into your slacks grasping at your crotch so desperately.

He flipped you over your ass pressed against the hardwood of the pew you were leaning on and his hand was right back into place toying with you, it was almost pitiful how you whined out his name.

“How many Hail Marys for this Father (Name)?” Arthur had slowly sunk to his knees kissing down your stomach, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. Your face was on fire as the cowboy’s hat tilted down with your head.

His unwavering eye contact was captivating, exuding a powerful hold that was difficult to resist. A small kiss was pressed against the warm skin above the waistband of your underwear. His tongue playfully peeked out from between his lips.

Gently press it against the tip of your penis. You choked on air as his mouth sealed onto the tip lapping at it like a thirsty animal. You gently tugged his hat over your face, savoring the scent of his hair, his movements kept pace and you could feel your stomach tighten.

You've never even kissed someone before but now having a man touch you in ways you had never done to yourself, his mouth attached to you like a lifeline in such a holy place.

The shame you felt was overshadowed by the feeling of coming undone. Like a rubber band snapping tears burn your eyes as you wheeze against the soft pillow on your mattress. Your fingers were tightly gripping the smooth pillow as you attempted to catch your breath.

Stumbling up from your mattress the floor creaked under your weight. In your frantic movements, you dropped to your knees and reached for your crucifix. Holding the cold beads in your hand made you realize how much your skin was burning up. The beads tapped lightly together in your hand as you began to pray, desperate to apologize for such a filthy dream.

While you couldn't control it and you knew that, this hadn't ever happened before. The small wet patch on your underwear was cold when you finished praying, you could only ignore it so long before you eventually had to change them. Upon closer inspection your sheet also needed cleaning as you deduced you were also grinding against your bed when the dream reached its peak.

You weren’t sure how this would affect you if you were to ever meet the man face to face, he didn't need to know but what if he found out?

[adini-nikolaevna]

“At 7 in the morning, the first signs of premature birth occurred.

At 8 o'clock the distinguished young woman [Grand Duchess Alexandra Nikolaevna] took Holy Communion according to the rite of the Greek Church. Her confessor had demanded to see her, and so the Grand Duchess' desire for the ordinance was brought about in a natural way. According to the custom of the Greek religion, the sick woman asked not only her parents present but also her husband's forgiveness for any slights. This was so touching for the young gentleman, who was not used to this ecclesiastical form, that he knelt by the bed and also asked for forgiveness for any worries that he had caused her during the short time of their marriage.

An hour later she gave birth almost painlessly and unusually easily to a boy who screamed loudly and audibly, although he was only 25 weeks old. I went with the child and all members of the august family, except her father and mother, into the next room, where I wrapped him in warm cotton wool to await the baptism. All the members gradually approached the basket to see their sister's child . The prince [Friedrich Wilhelm of Hesse-Kassel] also approached and seemed deeply touched with fatherly joy, which dwindled with each passing moment.”

A Protestant priest had been sent to perform the baptism. However, when he had not arrived after three quarters of an hour, and the weak spark of life threatened to go out at any moment, the fear arose in the entire circle of those present that the child might die without the sacrament of baptism. Someone, I think it was the Duke of Leuchtenberg, had opened the door of the sick room and saw the emperor kneeling beside the bed. No one dared to disturb this moment, and yet danger was imminent.

I handed over the care of the young prince to a very capable chambermaid, entered the mother's room and actually saw the emperor [Nicholas I] at her bedside, holding both of her hands in his in a half-kneeling position.

To get his attention I made a small noise, but he would not look up, and I was forced to wave. He immediately got up, came toward me, led me to the doorway and asked,

“What do you want?”

“The child is in danger of dying any minute; the clergyman has not come. Does Your Majesty wish to baptize your grandson yourself, lest he die without the ordinance?”

“Yes, yes. Certainly.”

The emperor immediately went into the next room and entered the circle of his family surrounding the basket with the child. When the bowl of water was given to him as ordered, he performed the baptism with a dignity and emotion that made the deepest impression on me. Everyone knelt around the great emperor, who was baptizing his youngest grandchild. Then, without another word, he left the room and returned to his daughter’s bedside.

After a good half hour the summoned clergyman finally appeared in full regalia, decorated with several medals. The child was barely alive; but he performed the baptism according to the regulations of the Protestant church.

Of these two baptisms, that of the grandfather of his grandson was certainly recorded in heaven.”

— Imperial physician Dr. Martin von Mandt on the premature birth of Prince Wilhelm of Hesse-Kassel, the short-lived son of Grand Duchess Alexandra Nikolaevna of Russia.”

[thetruthwilloutsworld]

If anyone knows a thing or two about sex scenes, it’s Sam Heughan. Over the past decade, the 43-year-old Scottish star of Outlander, the cult-hit historical drama, has filmed hours of notoriously raunchy footage in his role as Jamie Fraser, the dashing 18th-­century Highland rebel, with his wife, Claire – a time-traveller from the 20th century, played by ­Caitríona Balfe.

Yet two years ago, Heughan, as one of the executive producers (with Balfe), introduced an intimacy co-ordinator to choreograph such scenes, which had been criticised by many as excessively violent.

“The industry’s completely changed since Outlander started,” Heughan says, sitting in a Soho bar on a visit to London from his home outside Glasgow. “Not just our show but also shows like Game of Thrones were very graphic, with no room for the imagination, in a way that’s quite jarring now. As young, keen actors, we were just expected to get naked and go at it. Caitríona and I formed a bond and trusted each other, but there were times when we were pushed too far.” He was especially troubled by a scene involving full-frontal nudity in ­season one, when Jamie was tortured and raped by his rival, Black Jack Randall (Tobias Menzies). “That really didn’t sit well.”

Everything changed following the MeToo scandal, leading ­Heughan to employ Vanessa Coffey to choreograph the sex scenes. “So now everyone knows what the boundaries are, like in a football or rugby match. It’s been so helpful and freeing, and it was because I didn’t want younger actors to go through what we’d gone through. Now, the scenes are sexually charged, but not gratuitous.”

Despite his heartthrob status, Heughan – who’s 6ft 2in, with the strapping physique his role necess­i­tates – is modest and thoughtful company. He also had Coffey enlisted to co-ordinate his latest pro­ject, Channel 4’s erotic thriller The Couple Next Door, filmed during the short break between Outlander’s seasons nine and 10, in which he plays Danny, a policeman living in a Leeds suburb in an open marriage with Becka (Jessica De Gouw).

“We didn’t want to make a salacious or seedy show about swingers,” Heughan says. “It’s about the psychology behind it – what is it to be in an open relationship where two characters love each other so much that they can invite people into that relationship? I think it’s possibly the greatest form of romance to allow your partner this, if it’s the itch they need to scratch. My character struggles with it.

The couple’s (initially) strait-laced neighbours are played by Alfred Enoch and Eleanor Tom­linson, who in 2019 finished five seasons as Demelza in Poldark. With Outlander about to start ­filming its final season, she and Heughan compared notes on moving on from a huge, long-running costume drama.

“It’s emotional. For me, the prospect’s hugely bittersweet. It feels like getting out of an institution. Outlander’s like a family, it literally defines who I am.” After all, Heughan has created an empire of Outlander spin-offs, including books, television travelogues and his spirits brand, The Sassenach – named after Jamie’s nickname for the English Claire – not to mention his charity, My Peak Challenge, which has raised nearly £5 million to fund a variety of causes, including ­hunger relief and blood-cancer research. “I’m ready for new challenges, but also nervous about what it’s like in the real world,” he says.

Still, he felt now was the right time to wrap. “Outlander could have finished after the ninth season, but, personally, I felt we hadn’t quite got there. So now we have the problem of pushing the writers to do something that’s hopefully satisfying for the audience, but also exciting.” So Heughan doesn’t yet know how Outlander ends? “No idea, and it’s really tough because Diana [Gabaldon, the author on whose novels the series is based] has written so many books.”

The show has a vast international fanbase; VisitScotland has cited a 67 per cent rise in visits to the show’s locations, such as Culloden and Inverness. “I do feel like I’m an unofficial ambassador for Scotland, and sometimes I don’t think the show is given enough credit for what it’s done for Scottish tourism,” Heughan says. “I think the numbers are even bigger than they say, because reams of Americans are just making their own itineraries. Doune Castle’s numbers are up 800 per cent, it’s been completely renovated as a result.”

The show has also transformed the local film industry. “For 10 years, we’ve been employing ­people at over 200 Scottish locations, we’ve started an intern scheme, we’ve built a studio with five sound stages where there was nothing before. So it’s going to leave a legacy.”

The son of an artist single mother (his father walked out when he was a baby), Heughan spent his early childhood in the Borders, his teens in Edinburgh, before studying at Glasgow’s Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, where his mentor was third-year student James McAvoy.

Having worked in London and Los Angeles, Heughan fell back in love with Scotland when he was cast in Outlander. Initially against independence, filming the first ­season in the run-up to the 2016 ­referendum transformed him into a vocal advocate. “Scottish politics right now is a bit of a mess, which is a shame, but maybe they’ll find a new rallying cry. We’re a great wee country with amazing resources, most of which are controlled by the British. Similar small European countries have great identities.”

Initially, Heughan is hesitant to discuss the issue, aware taking either side will provoke a social-media backlash, but then he decides: “Why can’t actors have opi­n­ions? The problem is you have to come down on one side, there is no room for deb­ate. Everything has be­come so aggressive and then social-media algo­rithms mean you only get to see one side of the argument.”

He had his fingers burnt when last month he signed an open letter from Artists for Palestine UK, alongside the likes of Tilda Swinton and Steve Coogan, which accused the Government of “aiding and abetting” Israeli war crimes, but failed to condemn Hamas’s terrorism. The following day, Heughan rescinded, saying he hadn’t “fully understood” what he was signing.

“I was maybe naively calling for peace, which is what we all want, but, unfortunately, that situation is so complex, I can’t understand it all,” he says now. “As an actor, you have a platform, but if you put your thoughts out there, you upset ­people, but you’re also damned if you don’t say anything.”

Heughan’s taking time to navigate a potential post-Outlander career path. “I’m a workaholic, but I have to be discerning. Whatever I do next, I have to feel really passionate about.” Possible plans include directing and exploring a different side to Scotland than misty heather and bagpipes. “I think that underbelly you see in [Ian Rankin’s] Rebus and Irvine Welsh is very interesting, there are still pockets that are very hard and gritty.”

Back in 2005, he auditioned for James Bond in Casino Royale – the role that eventually went to Daniel Craig. Now, there’s a new vacancy. “I’ll throw my hat in the ring,” he says, grinning. “I’d be a brilliant Bond, I’m good at action and I’d bring a lot of ­emotional intelligence.”

There might even be space for a personal life. Heughan’s mystified by “facts” he reads about his private life online. “There’s so much ­nonsense that’s completely false – apparently, I have a daughter. News to me!” he says, flushing. The truth, he says, is that Outlander leaves no time for relationships.

“It’s insane hours and takes over everything. Caitríona’s carved out a beautiful family for herself that she protects very well, but I’ve seen how hard it is for her to do that. I want a cat, but I’m too scared even for that, how would I look after it? One day, maybe,” Heughan says, dreamily.

Posting again as some people had difficulty opening the previous link.

[exmotranny]

the green carpet scratches at your pink heels. bile rises in your throat.

they talk about womanhood- but it’s not quite right. there is the pink and compliments and talk of boys

i am a beloved daughter

but there is also something else. it digs at your flesh, it feasts on your skin. your mother motions at your chest, bigger than hers and you're not even done growing yet! how lucky.

of heavenly parents

you pray to a man every night, finish it in another’s name. on your knees. you were sent a shady link as a kid. the woman on her knees, tears streaming out of her eyes, i don't want this, she said

with a divine nature and eternal destiny

blood on the inside of your underwear. you were told this meant you were a woman now. you were ten years old. what the fuck did you know about being a woman? your mom said you weren’t allowed to touch between your legs, but it's normal to want to. you didn't know what that meant, either.

as a disciple of jesus christ,

you wanted to be desired. you daydreamed of being the trophy for boys around you, of claiming that role one day as a wife. you came from a long line of women married young. you don’t know their names, but you were taught about their husbands in church.

i strive to become like him.

pressing your breasts down as much as possible, trying to give the illusion of a flat chest. badly cropped jpgs of jesus photoshopped to have top surgery scars are the secret currency you pay to get past the hours of church. you hold them like diamonds.

i seek and act upon personal revelation

you thought god was talking to you. you almost threw away everything you owned. you thought you were a prophet. total fuckin’ ego death! holy shit! god speaks through me!

and minister to others in his holy name

and then the next morning. when your faith crashed, when moroni abandoned you, did it feel unreal to you too, joseph?

i will stand as a witness of god

oh god, no. please. i don’t know what’s real anymore.

at all times

leg hair peeking from under your pretty sunday dress. they all stare. you ignore them and open up to D&C 132.

and in all things

emma, did you love him to the end? i don’t think you wanted him. did you watch as he married a 14 year old? did you tell him you burned the commandment? did you cry when he died for the church that he loved more than he loved you?

and in all places.

blood on the floor of carthage jail. this martyr will be remembered forever. do they talk about you, emma? or are you just joseph’s wife?

as i strive to qualify for exaltation,

when i marry, my husband will be a god, and i shall cleave onto him. when i marry, i will go to his universe and bear more of his children.

i cherish the gift of repentance

heads bowed low as the sacrament is passed. my hands clutch onto the bottom of my skirt. pleasure outside celestial marriage is forbidden. i apologize for loving the wrong way.

and seek to improve each day

i tried to kill myself, last time i got home from girl’s camp. i got home and cried and found the pills and shoved them into my mouth until i cried more and more until i was gagging. i hunched over the toilet. my hands on the grimy floor.

with faith, i will

forced to sing in front of the congregation. my head spun from anxiety. my stomach turned with nausea.

strengthen my home and family,

loving wife beautiful kids loyal husband church once a week work weekdays weekend mom monthly round on the business end of his cock forever and the vomit threatens to make an appearance.

make and keep sacred covenants,

an old man is in a room alone with me. he asks me if i masturbate.

and receive the ordinances and blessings

i tell the man no. i receive a card so i can be ordained.

of the holy temple.

that's just how it goes, isn't it?

all around are paintings of god and jesus. we learned about heavenly mother. why don’t i see her in paintings? did god have plural marriages? did heavenly mother make us? why don’t we pray to her? did she watch god marry a 14 year old? did she cover her eyes? when she saw blood on her underwear, was she told she was a woman? did she touch between her legs? did she ever believe herself better than god? does she cry when she cant talk to us? why do i cry? was heavenly mother scared of singing in public and did she press her chest flat and did she cry when god forced himself into her mouth? did she burn his doctrine too?

i am given flowers on mother’s day. i will be one eventually, after all. and i vomit in the church bathroom quietly like the perfect woman i am supposed to be.

[katakaluptastrophy]

An aspect of the queer coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship that I've not really seen people discuss is how Harrow's response to them manifests as a sort of internalised homophobia (for lack of a better word).

The idea that there's an explicit taboo against romantic or sexual relationships between necromancers and cavaliers is introduced in A Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers at the end of GTN (a text that for the most part reskins Ephesians 5 to be about necromantic aptitude instead of patriarchy...).

It says in no uncertain terms that "the love of the cavalier for the necromancer, and the necromancer for the cavalier, is not the love of a spouse. It cannot be libidinous", that "after a myriad of thought about the matter, marrying your cavalier remains taboo at best", and that "there have been those who have argued eloquently that [necro/cav marriages are] traitorous to the ideals of the Necrolord Prime."

It then specifically addresses Fifth House practice, saying "There is still a precedent in the Fifth for spouses to become a cavalier at particular times, but this is regarded as a stubborn holdover that is characteristically Fifth to not remove from their practise." (Fifth House necro/cav marriages seem to use the same logic as married Orthodox clergy - the marriage can precede the ordination/cavalier vows, but the other way around would be unacceptable.)

In HTN, the taboo against necro/cav relationships is mentioned twice. When Harrow is interviewing Augustine, he describes his cavalier as having been "my other half" and Harrow has a visceral reaction:

You were momentarily revolted by the apparent Fifth House tradition. “You and your cavalier were—wedded?”

This, of course, is the same Harrow who, prior to a spot of DIY lobotomy, exchanged what seemed very like wedding vows with her cavalier (who is now narrating that feeling of revulsion from inside her head).

When Harrow awakes in her River bubble, she immediately repeats part of those maybe-vows and says "Griddle". Shortly thereafter, while helping the gang prepare to banish the Sleeper, we find her very pointedly observing Abigail and Magnus:

"She watched Abigail and Magnus cross on tiptoe, nimbly dodging any line that their shoes might scuff, and in passing turn and kiss each other gravely. She was not embarrassed to see this intimacy; in fact, she found that it was vaguely interesting to see a marriage play out in front of her. There were many strictures against a necromancer marrying their own cavalier, and whatever road Abigail and Magnus had chosen to walk had been a difficult one: she knew that the marriage had preceded the cavaliership, which perhaps had made it less grotesque for both. They kissed as chastely and briefly as children; Magnus touched her cheek and said quietly, “Godspeed, my darling,” and she said, “You too.” That was all. No more, and no less."

We've not been party to any internal monologue Harrow may have had observing the Fifth before, but here she's clearly working through a number of complicated feelings: her interest in a relationship like this, an acknowledgement of the difficulty these kinds of relationships face in light of social and religious taboos against them, and then an odd swing back round to the language of revulsion, as if she's reigning herself back in before she can let herself think about it too much.

Part of the taboo that is causing Harrow to have such visceral reactions is the idea that a necro/cav marriage somehow sullies the spiritual beauty and purity of cavaliership with its unacceptable introduction of the erotic. There's something terribly poignant about Harrow having this reaction even watching Abigail and Magnus' chaste kiss, and what a deeply internalised sense of shame she must have about her own feelings.

But it also makes me wonder how often Abigail and Magnus had to police their behaviour. Because even if their relationship is tolerated, it will always be interpreted less charitably. There's just something very sad about imagining high protocol situations with Magnus silently walking half a step behind Abigail, both very aware of the need to make sure that they embody one relationship and not the other.

It all happens rather in passing in the middle of the plot picking up, but it's a poignant little moment of Harrow grappling with the implications of her and Gideon, what their relationship has been and has become, and what it perhaps will be.

[loveerran]

Could you elaborate on the JS sealing practices?

Great question! Thank you :)

What I am referring to (in this post) is the breadth and depth of the sealing power as envisioned and implemented by Joseph Smith and practiced in the early church. The original post speaks to how our family is more than just direct line descent or blood relations.

I've previously noted that 9 of Joseph's first 12 plural sealings were to women already legally married. Today, we regularly seal deceased women to more than one man (and deceased men to more than one woman) if they were married to more than one individual in mortality. We understand it will all be sorted out later.

But more interesting to many of us is the notion that sealings were performed for things other than marriages and the sealing of direct-line ancestors to direct-line progeny. Consider this account from the diary of John M. Bernhisel relating a sealing between friends and cousins, aunts and nephews and so on:

"The following named deceased persons were sealed to me on Oct 26th 1843, by President Joseph Smith: Maria Bernhisel, sister; Brother Samuel's wife, Catherine Kremer; Mary Shatto, (Aunt); Madalena Lupferd, (distant relative); Catherine Bernhisel, Aunt; Hannah Bower, Aunt; Elizabeth Sheively, Aunt; Hannah Bower, cousin; Maria Lawrence, (intimate friend); Sarah Crosby, intimate friend, /died May 11 1839/; Mary Ann Bloom, cousin."

A Gospel Topics essay notes early sealing practices may have been intended to extend family ties "both vertically, from parent to child, and horizontally, from one family to another".

Of additional interest is how proxy ordinances for the deceased, including proxy baptisms, could be performed by someone of any gender, prior to Brigham Young clarifying the same gender requirement in 1845. We also note non-related individuals were sealed by adoption to Joseph Smith, Brigham Young and other church leaders, including men sealed to men as father/son adoptive pairs.

Some believe our current evolution in practice aligns itself more closely to God's will and the original practice was at fault or incomplete. However, I give Joseph's expansive vision a lot of room. And the truth is that non-family, non-lineal sealings were performed by Joseph and others. Will those sealings be honored in the eternities, or will they be null and void? I have a hard time believing the latter. And what of OP's case for "the spinster aunt who had no kids but made sure that three of the six kids her sister abandoned survived into adulthood"? Church doctrine is big on adoption already, and I can only imagine that relationships like found family and adoption continue in the eternities.

To me, the sealing vision feels more expansive than our current understanding and practice may be.

[blue-lotus333]

Introduction to Yasodhara, Wife of the Buddha.

Yasodhara was the wife of Siddhartha Gautama (The Buddha). She became a Buddhist nun and was considered as an arhat (Buddhist saint)

The meaning of her name is "Bearer of glory". She was also popularly known as Bhaddakaccana, Rahulamata, etc…

Yasodhara has lived with the Buddha in his past lives, being his wife in all of them. In their past lives, she helps the Buddha and always stays devoted to him. In many of her lives, she rarely did bad acts/bad karma, making her one of the most holiest women in Buddhism.

She is an arhat associated with beauty, insight, womanhood, glory & devotion. Called "foremost in great insight"

She, in some unknown stories, was associated with Magic

Her (slightly summarized) life story 👇

Yasodhara was the daughter of King Suppabuddh & Queen Amita, She was born on the same day as prince Siddhartha. She was said to be a very beautiful Princess who was devoted, pleasant & sympathetic.

When Siddhartha was 16, his father wanted him to marry a benevolent & unjealous girl. Later, at a marriage event, Yasodhara was seen as the right person of that, After a series of events, Siddhartha & Yashodhara got married.

Yasodhara gave birth to a son named Rahula when she was 26. 7 days after, Siddhartha left the palace to seek answers, leaving Yasodhara devastated. When he was away, She imitated her husband's lifestyle by wearing simpler clothes, eating only 1 meal a day, & refusing offers of marriage proposals.

After a few years, Buddha later went back to his wife, where she rushed to him and clung to his feet. Eyes full of tears, missing his presence, now Fulfilled to see him again.

Yasodara recited the 'Naraseeha Gatha' to her son Rahula before sending him to join the Buddha. Rahula was joyful in his father’s presence & went with him to the temple. Rahula later became a monk & attained Arhantship. Yasodara's life is marked by sorrow & tears, but she has never shown anger.

Yasodhara joined the order of Monks, became an arhat, & established the first nun Order with 500 women. She dedicated her life to spreading Buddha's teachings & focusing on good karma.

Other stories of Yasodhara:

1. Yasodhara & the shakyan nuns.

When Rahula became a monk, Yasodara asked for permission from King Suddhodana to become ordained. The king advised her to wait for the right time. After his passing, Mother Gotami obtained the higher ordination & started the ‘order of nuns’ in the Buddha’s dispensation. Yasodara eventually renounced her possessions and became a nun, along with a thousand Shākyan ladies, despite the extreme protests from her people.

She, & other Shakyan princesses who became nuns, received immense offerings and attention from devotees. Many royal figures and noble women became nuns under Yasodhara’s guidance. 

2. Yasodhara’s Glory.

(this could possibly be a folk-story)

In order to prove her powers, Yasodara, in her spiritual form, performed numerous miracles, In the miracles, she’s said to have a voice that could be heard by the gods & brahmas who were dwelling in tens of thousands of universes. She transformed into different types of forms, into different elements, the sun, moon, mount Meru, & the god Indra.

She created a gigantic elephant and then plucked a divine tree from the realm Svarga (heaven), offering it to the Buddha like an umbrella.

She then attained nirvana, & was praised for her unwavering devotion and merits accumulated over countless lifetimes, a stupa was built to honor her legacy. 

3. The princess’s love magic.

In one unknown story, when the buddha came back, Yasodhara tries to win back the Buddha by offering him a cake with medicinal herbs to change his feelings, she preformed love magic on the food and had her son offer it to the Buddha. However, the Buddha remain unaffected and tells a story from a past life where Yasodhara, as a seductive courtesan, had led him astray with a similar cake. 

4. Yasodhara’s innocence.

In the Tsa pao tsang king, it states that As a result of Yasodhara’s prolonged pregnancy, she was suspected of adultery by her father-in-law and the Sakyas. They dug a ditch filled with flaming wood and threw Yasodhara into it. She called upon the Buddha, the flaming ditch was instantaneously transformed into a pool of pure water, in the middle of which Yasodhara with Rahula in her arms was sitting on a lotus flower. 

The Sakyas were convinced of her innocence and Rahula became the favorite of his grandfather.

5. Kama

Prince Siddhartha would have practiced his cult of sexual magic (possibly tantric sex?) with Yasodhara. Both of them would often engage in sexual activities before they were ready to bring a baby.

There is also one story of them having intercourse on a palace roof. They were so into the act that they actually fell off the roof & didn't notice. They somehow managed to fall into a bed of lotus flowers which saved them from any injuries as a result of the fall.

"Sri Yasodara Maha Seya" is a peaceful temple/stupa in Sri Lanka that honors her. Devotees seek the protection & blessings of her which help them overcome obstacles in life. 

Nuns are mostly the ones who take refuge in her, meditating in front of her stupa or making offerings. There are also energetic festivals in honor of her, with dancing, music & chanting. Poojas are also in honor of her.

Namo Sri Yasodhara maa🙏