#Open: Hildegard

[theawkwardterrier]

Wednesday 100: Particular Prescriptions

"Barely at all?" Claire looks down, aghast. "I should have started labor ages ago."

Mother Hildegarde calmly wipes her hands from the examination. "Yet it seems you will not for some time still."

"Well, is there anything to be done?"

"Some believe rose oil can help. Others use birth powder, although I know you would not. And of course, there is the marriage bed."

"The—" Claire is distracted even from her sweating discomfort. "And that...works?"

"Clearly not for you so far," the nun says, "but I do not imagine you objecting to trying again," and Claire sees her eyes twinkle.

[iknowthvnd]

open starter ⊹₊ ⋆ @inaducursehqstarters muse ⊹₊ ⋆ eleanor hildegard location ⊹₊ ⋆ the french quarter plots ⊹₊ ⋆ utp

everything was fuzzy. yet at the same time so vibrant, the whole thing gave her a headache, one she couldn't seem to shake. ever since crawling out of the grave, there were only two things on eleanor's mind, water and her fiancee. placing unruly hair behind her ears, she walked toward the french quarter in search for both. the thing was, she had no money on her. so to get any answers, the anxiously meek woman looked around for someone kind enough to notice she was in distress.

"excuse me, could uhh..." she trailed off unable to get the attention of another, sulking her shoulders forward. ellie's brain felt as if it heavy, as the bright lights strained her already blurry vision.

[adeadlysong]

"Dancing bears, painted wings Things I almost remember And a song someone sings, Once upon a December..."

[windupaidoneus]

i need hilde to get the fuck over himself & open up to shtola at once i knowww once he gets less scared they would be best friends forever...

[heartyluv]

Note: As requested, here you go! I hope I’ve done their ending justice in your eyes. The song I’ve attached…literally made my heart hurt in such a good way. Zayne just loves you so much. Have fun!

Creds to @/sweetmelodygraphics for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, Zayne is still cheating on his wife with you, Mentions of threatening to kill.

Word Count: 4,270

Summary: The happily ever after you and Zayne deserve.

Link to Part One ♡︎

King!Zayne/Servant!Reader - Part 2

Zayne’s strong hands trail up and down your back as you ride him. You grind your hips back and forth to please your aching clit, pulling at his hair as your peak grows closer and closer. With the urge to come, you make him lay back, watching the soft expression of pure pleasure on his face as your hips rise and fall to feel his cock against your fluttering walls.

The soft light of the early morning sun welcomes itself into the room, casting you both in a gentle glow beside the current one you’re naturally producing because of the bliss you’re giving one another. It’s romantic, really. The birds chirp, a gentle breeze flows into the room, and even with a heavy dresser blocking the door to keep anyone from coming into where he and you snuck off after the sun had set last night setting the atmosphere off just a tad, it doesn’t take away from the way you’re feeling.

Alive. How else could one describe this happiness that you haven’t had in so long?

No, you still haven’t left. It’s been almost four months since that night you and the man whimpering your name shared in the dark library. He’s been assuring you for weeks that he’s close to finding a solution, close to giving you and him the life you’ve always wanted together. While you should be ecstatic, you’re nervous. Terrified. Because he won’t share anything with you.

“Just trust me, my love. I’m handling it.”

In all those weeks, you’ve shared secret times together. He’ll pull you into random rooms to ravish you, to bend you over and make you take his load before you leave to carry it in your panties all day. You can’t even begin to count all the times he’s kissed you so desperately when no one was looking, the eyes he gave you when you set his plate down before him, his mother, and his wretched wife.

Even if the sneaking unnerved you, it thrilled you just the same.

“I’m so close…” you breathe as he rests a hand on your hip, feeling his thumb caress your skin. With tinged cheeks, he tugs his bottom lip with his teeth before releasing the soft flesh.

“Come for me, pretty. I’m right behind you,” he moans.

Sex with Zayne has never been something you just do. It’s an otherworldly experience and you’re convinced it’s because of the history you share. You have to bury your face in his neck to suppress your sounds since you’re incapable of keeping them low. So he welcomes you with open arms when you start to kiss his neck, wishing you could suck on his skin to leave your mark.

He holds you tight as you start to shudder against him, your movement slowing as your orgasm rips through you like a monsoon. You nearly drool as you shiver, feeling his cum paint your walls. He pulses within you, kissing your shoulders with so much love while you both settle.

“Mm,” he smooches your chest. “Good morning, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” you hum as you smile. “We did forget our proper greetings earlier, didn’t we?”

“Can you fault us?” he smirks. “We’ll have to be more careful since she returns today. Its best that we satiate this desire as best as we can.”

Zayne’s wife, Hildegard, has been visiting her family for the week. With the excuse that he had dire matters to attend to and since she pays little attention to anything that wasn’t gold or a new dress, she didn’t bat an eye when she got on the carriage and bid him farewell. It works just fine for you. Her lack of care shows she has zero suspicion.

You and Zayne have been having sex like rabbits, unable to stop sneaking off to this one room when the day is done to be with one another. Since she’ll be back, you won’t be able to do this for however long.

“Will you and her still.. you know..?” you ask with uncertainty, afraid of the answer.

He kisses your lips, trailing your cheek with his thumb. “Absolutely not. No one touches your cock, not ever again.”

Your breath hitches at the way he gives you ownership of him. “You do belong to me, hm?” you start to kiss him tenderly, your tongues dancing as he follows your lead, adding intensity.

“Always. Just as much as you are mine.”

Your hips start to gyrate and Zayne uses his strength to flip you over. You still feel the slick between your legs, a mix of his cum and yours in your pussy making you feel like you need him to please you once more. You can’t stop squeezing him, leaving your legs open wide for the only man who will ever be able to see you like this.

“We need to get ready for the day, Zayne” you meekly protest, using his name to make him weak.

“We do,” he agrees. “But I don’t know when I’ll get you like this again. Please your king and let me fill you up again.”

“As you wish,” you whine when you feel him slip out all the way to the tip before gently sinking back in. “Your majesty.”

When you’re finally out of bed and dressed, everything progresses as it typically does. All the royals sit at the table as breakfast is brought out for them to eat after their feast is dished to perfection.

Zayne’s mother, Alice, gives you a warm smile as you set her meal before her. You talked to her briefly a few days after your encounter with her son, to which she admitted that she had a hand in him confronting you. It made you feel good inside to know that she cares about you, even if you’re a servant. You admire her and the respect she has for your mother who dedicated her whole life to serving them.

She never told you how much of yours and Zayne’s relationship that she’s aware of, but all that you understood was that she knew there was something. The fact that she didn’t send you to death for it startled you even more. A servant sleeping with a married royal should’ve had you killed faster than you could blink. But she assured you that she vowed to care for you and that she loved you as if you were her own. To know that she approved of you more than Hildegard was a discovery you never expected. It shook your entire world, and you wondered if you could still end up staying even if Zayne’s attempt to bring you two together, failed.

When you give Zayne his food, you have to behave yourself and not think about the way he made you feel just a few hours ago. You can’t bite your lip, can’t smile, can’t look at him for too long, or your cover will be blown. But when he huffs out a laugh through his nose because of your swiftness, it became nearly impossible to hold yourself together.

Finally, getting ready to give Hildegard her food, you feel the sudden urge to vomit erupt in your throat. But you keep it down, doing your best to rid yourself of the random nauseating coil in your gut. The other servant who works beside you seems to notice you slow down in your efforts, quickly rushing to cover for you and handing Hildegard her dish. But just as quick as she noticed, so did Zayne.

His eyes narrow in concern, watching you without a care about who could be looking at his eyes on you.

“Dear?” Alice voices, her face contorting with worry as she looks over you rapidly. “Are you alright? You suddenly seem to have fallen ill.”

“I’m alright,” you mutter, feeling an increase in your body temperature.

“You are not allowed to get me sick,” Zayne’s wife shoos at you with a hand as if you’re nothing. “Whatever the matter is with you, find somewhere else to experience it.”

“Watch your mouth,” Zayne snaps, anger darkening his irises.

“It’s your wife’s first day of return, and you talk to me that way?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “As your queen, you’d think to treat me with more respect more than you do the help.”

Zayne slams the table, making the cutlery and everyone else in the room jump. “And as king of the entirety of this land, if I command you to mind your tongue, then there should be no further discussion or nonsense falling from your lips. You’ve been told what to do. It’s in your best interest to accept this command, should you wish for me to speak to you with even an ounce of respect.”

That shuts Hildegard up instantly and Zayne and his mother put their attention back on you. Before either of them can utter another word, the dizziness in your mind is stronger than your will to remain upright, and you find yourself collapsing to the floor as it all becomes too incoherent and blurry to understand.

You don’t know when you fell unconscious, but in the time that you did, you’ve been brought to the medical room from the dining hall. You blink away the fuzziness, trying to understand what brought on the dreadful feeling you had.

When you turn your head to the left in the simple bed you lay in, you see Zayne. You’re surprised that he’s here, that as king he’d show such care for a servant girl so publically. He catches your movement, looking swiftly in your direction after staring at the wall for however long.

“You’re awake,” he sighs in relief, running a hand across your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you answer truthfully this time. “I don’t know what caused this.”

Zayne just stares at you, pressing his lips together. The atmosphere in the room seems to have shifted in a way that concerns you. Your eyes study his body language, trying to understand what’s the matter.

“Zayne?” you call to him gently. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

The way the corner of his mouth tips up gives you hope that everything is fine. His eyes dance with yours before he takes hold of your hand. He brings it to his face, making your soft palm glide against his chiseled jaw. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, a habit you’ve always done that he’ll forever love. It’s silent for a few moments as you give him time, despite your nerves.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers. “We’re having a baby, love.”

You’re frozen. Everything that could go wrong plays in your mind. You could be shunned for having a child with a king, your child would never know what it feels like to have a purposeful life because of the shame, and worst of all? They’d never have access to their father in the way that they should because there’s no way he’d be able to be present in their life under the circumstances.

You’re not necessarily surprised that you’re pregnant. Zayne has finished inside you several times, but he’s pulled out more than he’s filled your womb with his seed. But all it takes is that one time. You start to think about the fact that you’ve missed your menstrual in the last two months, but you had chalked it up to stress, only because it’s happened before. When Zayne got married, you were so overwhelmed with negative emotions that you were irregular for a whole year.

Dealing with the uncertainty of your relationship, the sneaking around, the worrying—it’s taken its toll on you in these few months. It never came to your mind that you were pregnant.

“Say something,” he begs. “Are you not happy?”

“You are?” you ask with mixed feelings of hope and dreadful doom.

“I am. The only woman I’ve ever wanted carrying my child? A man couldn’t be given a more perfect gift.”

“I want to be happy,” your voice cracks. “But Zayne… you haven’t even figured out how we can stay together. How can you make it so that it is us and this baby? I can’t do this without you…” The tightness in your chest grows.

“You won’t,” he vows, kissing your palm that has now fallen slack against his face, but he still holds you firmly. “This newfound joy has only solidified my decision in what I’ve been contemplating for a while now.”

“Tell me,” you urge, needing some sort of comfort.

“I can’t…But in due time, my sweet. You’ll know. And you may not like it, but it’s the only way. Give me the week and it’ll all be fixed.”

And you had no choice but to listen to him. For an entire week that felt like years, you were put on rest. Zayne would not have you working and neither would his mother. You made Zayne promise not to tell Alice about the baby just yet, not wanting to make her think that there would be a chance at a happy ending or an heir to the throne, as the thought alone was simply foolish.

You were readying yourself in your chambers when a soft knock rapt against the door.

“Come in,” you respond. In enters Alice, smiling at you softly as she shuts the door.

“How have you been, dear?” She takes your hand, holding it between hers.

“I’m much better, your majesty. Thank your for checking.”

She hums, releasing your hand and placing her palm on your belly. “And the baby?”

Your eyes widen. You told Zayne—

“I see that frustration in your eyes,” she chuckles. “My son didn’t tell me, but a mother knows. I presume you’re what, almost three months if you’re not past that already?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Nonsense,” she shushes you. “You are the greatest gift to my Zayne, making you even more precious to me. And you’re giving me my first grandchild... You’re sacred, young lady.”

“You accept this?”

“You must understand. I am a mother before I am queen. Many people would disagree with that, would say that I should put my royal duties above all personal matters, but even Zayne’s father knew that this kingdom could crumble and it didn’t matter to me, so long as I had my family.” She sighs as she looks into your eyes, her prestigious jewelry glistening in the light with each minor movement.

“I know that this kingdom is more than buildings and gold. It’s people with lives and they depend on people like Zayne to keep it all together. But family is who we have when the day ends, when the sun is set, when the weight of the world feels a little too much. At least, that’s what it should be. My reasoning in saying all of this to you is because I need you to grasp that you, Zayne, and this child… you are my family, you are my reasoning. Just like you and Zayne are each other’s purpose. We stick toghether, no matter what. Is that alright with you?”

Your nose burns as tears prickle in your eyes. You can’t help yourself and wrap your arms around her tightly, inhaling her familiar scent that has brought you so much comfort as long as you’ve been here. She’s always been like a second mother to you, and now she’s you’re only. You won’t take that for granted.

“Thank you so much,” you mumble. “It’s more than alright.”

“Perfect,” she runs her hand down your back. “And you must get ready. Zayne is giving an announcement to the kingdom today. He’ll deliver his speech above the courtyard on the grand balcony.”

You pull back with a raised brow, wiping away the stray tears. “Is everything alright?”

She gently holds your face in her hands. “It will be.”

When you make your way to the balcony, you watch with unbridled nerves as the servants help make sure Zayne and Hildegard are ready to be seen. He looks at you once, winking briefly. You smile, but you wonder why he didn’t tell you that he was announcing anything today.

Still, of course you trust him. You stand in the back along with other servants and Zayne’s mother as the steward announces the “couple” before they step forward.

Everyone erupts in excitement, curious about what the king has to say since he’s only done announcements like this twice.

“It is delightful to see every single one of you, and I sincerely thank you all for making it a point to be present for this important day in history,” Zayne says with a raised voice so that he is heard.

“When I became king, the only thing I wanted to ensure was that I gave you all the same level of leadership that my father, his father, and all before him, gave you and your offspring during their reign. And it’s because of the level of respect and loyalty you’ve all shown me, that I believe I’ve succeeded in doing my part. But,” he grows silent for a few seconds. “It is with a heavy heart that I make it known that I am stepping down from the throne and as your ruler.”

Everyone collectively gasps. Hildegard snaps her head toward Zayne as if this is new information to her and when you look at Zayne‘s mother, she’s unfazed.

“The woman that I love is pregnant with my child. And no, she is not Lady Hildegard,” Zayne adds, and chills run down your spine. What is he doing?

“The woman I want to spend my life with has been apart of it since I was a child. I married Hildegard to create something that would benefit you all and your family for generations to come, but all it has done is destroy me. What good of a king can I be if I lose myself?”

“She is not of royal blood at all, and I have no shame in that. But in order to keep the alliance, it is best to merge the north and this kingdom together. In order to do that, there will be a proper transition of power between Hildegard and myself.”

Zayne could’ve simply divorced his wife whenever he pleased, but because he wanted to keep a promising future for his land and its people, he couldn’t dissolve the bond he married into. Even if he wanted you, till the end, he’d always be a worthy king.

“No!” shouts someone from the crowd.

“We object your ruling, sire!”

“We do not want an outsider ruling our land!”

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. What are they saying?

One of the blacksmiths, a burly man, steps forward so that he’s seen and heard. “The people do not care about your marital affairs! We clearly understand that you wed Lady Hildegard for us, but your majesty, we have thrived as long as we have because of you and the rule of your family! Not because of some other kingdom we have no interest.”

An elderly lady steps forward next, her voice powerful. “We were well before the alliance was made with the north and we’ll be fine without it! You, the woman you want, and even your mother, have decades to lead us until we find the right solution! We want you as our king!”

Zayne’s mother looks at you with shock at the disapproval of her son stepping down from the throne. You can only think that the reason she spoke to you before this was because Zayne discussed his plan with her before he delivered it, but she’s thrown off by the response, not expecting such a thing.

“Have you gone mad!?” Hildegard shouts. “You’ve violated our marriage and you dare to try and get rid of me? Embarrass me in front of everyone?!”

She roughly turns around, her eyes finding you.

“It’s her, isn’t it? This pitiful excuse of a human!? The one you shouted at me over? I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her and that bastard child!” She goes to charge at you, but Zayne’s mother steps in front of you, making Hildegard halt.

“Remove her,” Zayne’s mother speaks, making guards move swiftly to grab the woman throwing a tantrum.

“Your land is nothing without the north! You and these people will suffer!” she shouts as she’s dragged away.

Zayne is so stunned by the loyalty of the people, of the events occurring in front of him, that he looks to you for comfort—like when you were kids. You can’t care anymore, rushing to him, to hold him in your arms. Behind you, everyone cheers as he swoops you up.

“You were going to dethrone yourself for me..?”

“For us,” he clarifies. “No title is worth being without you or my family. It never will be. But it seems I don’t have to choose.”

“This was your solution.”

He nods. “It was the best way for us to get what we want while I still uphold my anticipated final duties.”

“Marry her already so we can get back to work!” shouts someone else, making everyone laugh and eases the tension.

“Will you, my love?” He kisses your lips, happy to be able to now love you so openly. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Zayne,” your lip quivers. “I couldn’t dream of doing anything else. Yes, yes I’ll marry you!”

He slams his lips onto yours, holding you as close as he can while everyone claps in excitement. He never expected them to have his back the way they did, but now that he understands the bond, he’ll never do anything to break it. They value him and he intends to show them how mutual it is.

Six Years Later

“Papa, mama, look! It’s another butterfly!” your daughter Leila exclaims as you all sit on a large quilt in the kingdom’s garden. It’s her birthday today and before you brought her into town for her annual shopping event, she said she wanted a pretty picnic.

Be careful, love,” you frown when she stumbles over her little feet, determined to get the white butterfly to land on her nose like one had done earlier. Her ponytail swings back and forth as she runs, her dress trying to catch up with her as it catches the wind.

Zayne chuckles, watching his little girl that’s a perfect mix of you both. He runs his hand across your belly gently, admiring how it grows your second child. You look over at him, leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly. He slides his hand behind your neck, intensifying the exchange.

After that day, Zayne divorced Hildegard immediately. He married you a week later, celebrating in town with all the people. You were their queen now, so it was a lot of joy to go around. Their loyalty made him realize that they are just as much of a family to him as the one he’s created with you. It’s become more of a habit for him to celebrate things with them, something they were more than happy to see.

Surprisingly enough, Hildegard’s father who ruled with an iron fist, still wanted to maintain the alliance despite Zayne divorcing his daughter and his infidelity. He admitted that he’s seen too much growth within his land and pockets to let go of it. He’s an example of a king who put his kingdom above personal things, something that could be admirable and distasteful all at once.

Everything just worked out so well, and you always feel like it’s a daydream, a miracle you never thought you’d be granted.

“Ew, papa!” Leila covers her eyes, making you smile as Zayne continues to kiss you for just a little more before he pulls back.

“Papa is ew, isn’t he?” you joke, making Zayne do nothing but admire you.

“Mama, can I hear my baby brother?” your daughter pouts cutely, something she’s grown to use to get what she wants.

“Of course, princess.” You open your arms as she kneels before you to rest her head softly on your stomach. Her and Zayne are convinced it’s a boy.

“He’s getting big, isn’t he?” Zayne adds as he runs his hand down Leila’s hair.

You nod as she sings a little song and tells the baby in your stomach that it’s her birthday today. Soon, Alice appears, walking toward you all.

“Grandma! Shhh, my brother is sleeping!”

Alice simply shakes her head with a smile. “The carriage is ready for us to make our way when you’re ready.”

“Go with your grandmother, sweetie. Let me help your mother,” Zayne asks. Leila rushes up, but not before kissing your belly. She takes Alice’s hand and you both watch them walk away.

“Wanted you for myself for a minute,” he whispers, kissing your neck. “I love you, terribly. You know that?”

“I do,” you bite your lip when he licks your skin. “We share the same notion, your majesty,” you tease.

He smirks. “I’ll shall see how true that is tonight. If you can take me.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing you were full of him right now. “I’ll never turn down something so delightful.”

“Good.” He stands, helping you up before folding the quilt and gathering everything else. “Shall we?”

You take his outstretched hand and you both make your way to continue the life you’ve been graced with. You’ve never been so happy in your life and you know that as long as you have your family, nothing could ever strip you from it. With them beside you, you’ll always be complete.

────────────────────────

@alyssac9 @dramaticalsachan

[mrigasiras]

Uttara Bhadrapada is the sign of the renunciant. Its sister, Purva Bhadrapada, is fiery, loud, and extravagant. However Uttara Bhadrapada is Purva Bhadrapada's cooled down counterpart. Its natives are mystical and mysterious, often times hard for most to pin down.

Taking place in mid sidereal Pisces, it is the point where one must be spiritually surrendered to the mysterious tides of the 12th house. I have noticed many notable mystics and nuns have it prominently, as well as higher ups in society. Uttara Bhadrapada is stripped down, and because of this, ascends the ranks, spiritually and materially.

When you meet with God, you cannot take your possessions and your loved ones with you. To accumulate wealth, one must be able to hold themselves steadily, not acting upon impulse or emotion. One must surrender their ego completely, taking "I" out of the picture, not doing things for their immediate rewards, but for the liberation of their soul, letting the tides of divinity instead lead them.

The great Christian mystic St. Theresa of Avila had Uttara Bhadrapada ascendant. She coined the term "Dark Night of the Soul". The period when God seemingly abandons the spiritual aspirant, and allows for the heart chakra to be churned and opened, removed from sense pleasure. When one starts to act with their spirit fully taking the reigns.

I think that is also why their actions can be incomprehensible and strange to many. They have fully detached themselves and are now acting from divine channeling. I have noticed Uttara Bhadrapada art can be quite abstract and strange.

There's an inner strength and "toughness" that I sense with them. They seem to be quite sure of themselves, but not in a gaudy way, like Purva Bhadrapada might tend to be at times. They have been through the purging flames and now are acting from their own cultivated inner wisdom.

They are often times skeptical and rooted, knowing where they pull truth from. I've noticed that in films, Uttara Bhadrapada natives tend to play the characters who sense when things don't add up, and want to actually get to the bottom of the truth.

Salvador Dali, Uttara Bhadrapada moon

St. Theresa of Avila, Uttara Bhadrapada ascendant

Hildegard of Bingen, UB moon

Sufjan Stevens, UB moon

Bill Gates, UB moon

Leonard Nimoy, UB moon

Harry Houdini, UB sun

Debbie Harry, UB moon

[lethendralis-paints]

A lovely orc OC from BG3 named Hildegard for a client.

Чарівна орк на ім'я Хілдегард на замовлення.

Pssst...I'm open to art commissions, big and small this month! More info here:

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 07 || FAITH ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“Wait, Claire!” I half-turned; he was almost upon me. The soft gray numbness around me quivered, and I felt a sort of frozen panic at the thought that the sight of him might rip it away from me. If it did, I would die, I thought, like a grub dug up from the soil and tossed onto a rock to shrivel, naked and defenseless in the sun. “No!” I said. “I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.” He hesitated for a moment, and I turned away from him and began to walk rapidly down the path toward the arbor. I heard his steps on the gravel of the path behind me, but kept my back turned, and walked faster, almost running. As I paused to duck under the arbor, he made a sudden lunge forward and grasped my wrist. I tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight. “Claire!” he said again. I struggled, but kept my face turned away; if I didn’t look at him, I could pretend he wasn’t there. I could stay safe. He let go of my wrist, but grabbed me by both shoulders instead, so that I had to lift my head to keep my balance. His face was sunburned and thin, with harsh lines cut beside his mouth, and his eyes above were dark with pain. “Claire,” he said more softly, now that he could see me looking at him. “Claire—it was my child, too.” “Yes, it was—and you killed it!” I ripped away from him, flinging myself through the narrow arch. I stopped inside, panting like a terrified dog. I hadn’t realized that the arch led into a tiny vine-covered folly. Latticed walls surrounded me on all sides—I was trapped. The light behind me failed as his body blocked the arch. “Don’t touch me.” I backed away, staring at the ground. Go away! I thought frantically. Please, for God’s sake, leave me in peace! I could feel my gray wrappings being inexorably stripped away, and small, bright streaks of pain shot through me like lightning bolts piercing cloud. He stopped, a few feet away. I stumbled blindly toward the latticed wall and half-sat, half-fell onto a wooden bench. I closed my eyes and sat shivering. While it was no longer raining, there was a cold, damp wind coming through the lattice to chill my neck.

He didn’t come closer. I could feel him, standing there, looking down at me. I could hear the raggedness of his breathing. “Claire,” he said once more, with something like despair in his voice, “Claire, do ye not see … Claire, you must speak to me! For God’s sake, Claire, I don’t know even was it a girl or a boy!” I sat frozen, hands gripping the rough wood of the bench. After a moment, there was a heavy, crunching noise on the ground in front of me. I cracked my eyes open, and saw that he had sat down, just as he was, on the wet gravel at my feet. He sat with bowed head, and the rain had left spangles in his damp-darkened hair. “Will ye make me beg?” he said.

“It was a girl,” I said after a moment. My voice sounded funny; hoarse and husky. “Mother Hildegarde baptized her. Faith. Faith Fraser. Mother Hildegarde has a very odd sense of humor.”

The bowed head didn’t move. After a moment, he said quietly, “Did you see the child?” My eyes were open all the way now. I stared at my knees, where blown drops of water from the vines behind me were making wet spots on the silk. “Yes. The mâitresse sage-femme said I ought, so they made me.” I could hear in memory the low, matter-of-fact tones of Madame Bonheur, most senior and respected of the midwives who gave of their time at L’Hôpital des Anges. “Give her the child; it’s always better if they see. Then they don’t imagine things.” So I didn’t imagine. I remembered. “She was perfect,” I said softly, as though to myself. “So small. I could cup her head in the palm of my hand. Her ears stuck out just a little—I could see the light shine through them. The light had shone through her skin as well, glowing in the roundness of cheek and buttock with the light that pearls have; still and cool, with the strange touch of the water world still on them. “Mother Hildegarde wrapped her in a length of white satin,” I said, looking down at my fists, clenched in my lap. “Her eyes were closed. She hadn’t any lashes yet, but her eyes were slanted. I said they were like yours, but they said all babies’ eyes are like that.” Ten fingers, and ten toes. No nails, but the gleam of tiny joints, kneecaps and fingerbones like opals, like the jeweled bones of the earth itself. Remember man, that thou art dust.… I remembered the far-off clatter of the Hôpital, where life still went on, and the subdued murmur of Mother Hildegarde and Madame Bonheur, closer by, talking of the priest who would say a special Mass at Mother Hildegarde’s request. I remembered the look of calm appraisal in Madame Bonheur’s eyes as she turned to look me over, seeing my weakness. Perhaps she saw also the telltale brightness of theapproaching fever; she had turned again to Mother Hildegarde and her voice had dropped further—perhaps suggesting that they wait; two funerals might be needed. And unto dust thou shalt return. But I had come back from the dead. Only Jamie’s hold on my body had been strong enough to pull me back from that final barrier, and Master Raymond had known it. I knew that only Jamie himself could pull me back the rest of the way, into the land of the living. That was why I had run from him, done all I could to keep him away, to make sure he would never come near me again. I had no wish to come back, no desire to feel again. I didn’t want to know love, only to have it ripped away once more. But it was too late. I knew that, even as I fought to hold the gray shroud around me. Fighting only hastened its dissolution; it was like grasping shreds of cloud, that vanished in cold mist between my fingers. I could feel the light coming, blinding and searing. He had risen, was standing over me. His shadow fell across my knees; surely that meant the cloud had broken; a shadow doesn’t fall without light.

“He had risen, was standing over me. His shadow fell across my knees; surely that meant the cloud had broken; a shadow doesn’t fall without light.

“Claire,” he whispered. “Please. Let me give ye comfort.” 

“Comfort?” I said. “And how will you do that? Can you give me back my child? ”

He sank to his knees before me, but I kept my head down, staring into my upturned hands, laid empty on my lap. I felt his movement as he reached to touch me, hesitated, drew back, reached again.“No,” he said, his voice scarcely audible.

“No, I canna do that. But…with the grace of God…I might give ye another?”

His hand hovered over mine, close enough that I felt the warmth of his skin. I felt other things as well: the grief that he held tight under rein, the anger and the fear that choked him, and the courage that made him speak in spite of it. I gathered my own courage around me, a flimsy substitute for the thick gray shroud. Then I took his hand and lifted my head, and looked full into the face of the sun.

Cap 28 - The Coming of Light  ~ ‘Dragonfly In Amber’

[persephoneggsy]

design update for my Dragon Age girlies!

Fiora got the most dramatic makeover, and Hilde gota few changes, but Marian and Phryne are mostly the same lol.

Misc notes:

The rose and raven feather in Fiora's formal look references that she, Alistair, and Morrigan are in a throuple. It took years, but they got there in the end.

Modern AU Fiora is a chemistry major who wants to eventually open her own perfumery.

Back in Lothering, Marian did odd jobs as a seamstress; mostly patching up people's clothes and making the occasional dress or shirt.

Even after Marian becomes Princess of Starkhaven, she makes most of her own clothes. And some of Sebastian's, too.

Modern AU Marian is, of course, a fashion designer.

Hildegarde's hair turned white from being physically in the Fade. She hates it, since it makes her stand out more.

Hildegarde's formal look was 100% designed by Vivienne.

Modern AU Hildegarde is an architectural historian (she majored in historic preservation).

Phryne's pre-game look is her in her early 30s. She's nearly sixty by the time Veilguard starts.

Phryne, as a Watcher, does have a collection of grave gold, but because she's a frontline fighter who's had to travel a lot, she only wears her collection on special occasions.

Modern AU Phryne is a retired Broadway actress. She spends her retirement sponsoring theater programs and teaching dance classes.

[iknowthvnd]

open starter ⊹₊ ⋆ plotdrop#003 : spirit of fear; @inaducursehqstarters muses ⊹₊ ⋆ eleanor hildegard location ⊹₊ ⋆paradigm garden

one moment, eleanor was about to enjoy her last s'more of the night, the next she saw the most interesting light in the sky, followed by the feeling as if the sweet treat in her hand was going to poison her. throwing the beautiful crafted delicacy right into the bonfire, she then jumped back and began to look at the people around her. all of them had the same look of fear in their eyes. what had trigged this distress out of nowhere? but she couldn't question it long as the morbid thoughts bubbled in her chest once more. every single person around her was a threat, hell the last time she died it was at the hands of someone trusted, so what was to stop total strangers?

gripping her belongings, elle made a dash for the exit. the only thought on her mind was survival from the scary world that surrounded.

[misericordevn]

Hi! Really enjoyed Misericorde, thank you so much for putting something like this out into the world. My question is - (vague spoilers ahead) Hedwig seems pretty well read, visions are mentioned at length with interest, and given Catherine's "moral" stance on the girls' "closeness," how much of the plot is inspired by documented accounts of female Christian mystics? Do any of the characters have thoughts or even an awareness of what's now vaguely termed as "erotic mysticism" (nuns describing sexual accounts with Jesus or "marrying" one another in place of Jesus)? Is that something that you were thinking of at all or read of in your writing for this? Sorry if this is so specific - it's just a weird topic I've always been interested in and was thinking of while reading, especially with White Wool and Snow!

This is a great question! I'll answer the parts that I can without spoiling anything from Volume Three.

A lot of Misericorde is definitely inspired by the writings (and interpretations of/arguments about) of several mystics like Hildegard and Kempe, as well as poets like Gwerful Mechain. As for how aware or specifically opinionated any of the characters besides Catherine are/were, that's primarily a "stay tuned!" question. I can say, at least, that this is absolutely something I've thought about at length writing the story.

There's a scene very early in Two that touches on this sort of obliquely. Hedwig sees her experiences and readings as net zero, while Eustace believes that she might be the most ideologically driven person in the convent. I think it's safe to say Hedwig's excitement about and acceptance of visions, her openness to the vaguely mystical, and even her tendency toward magical thinking stem from her supplemental readings.

[maculategiraffe]

baby's current top twenty favorite things to do at my house:

1. make rice on the stove

2. make popcorn on the stove

3. find the hole in the back yard where a bunny might live

4. find acorns on the ground and smash them with a hammer

5. make blueberry tea

6. watch the episode of the new adventures of winnie the pooh where they go to a movie about a giant spider and christopher robin accidentally drops his popcorn bucket on the movie usher's head*

7. play "christopher robin accidentally drops his popcorn on the movie usher's head," taking turns being christopher robin ("oh no I dropped my popcorn!!") and the movie usher ("lose your popcorn, kid?? this is a movie theater, not a playground!")

8. play "giant spider chases piglet around the house"

9. play "uncle boyfriend chases baby around the house and picks him up and flips him upside down and tosses him onto the sofa" five thousand times

10. jump back and forth between the mama tree stump and the baby tree stump in the yard

11. drink the costco brand of oat milk, which only tastes good at my house and not at mommy and daddy's

12. open and close the toaster oven doors

13. peek in at hildegard and ask "why is she a snake?"

14. steal uncle boyfriend's shoes while he's in the bathroom and hide them in the ash bucket

15. wear auntie mac's sunglasses that make everything look orange

16. laundry

17. play elevator (go behind floor length curtains and say 'going up' and 'going down')

18. sweep the pollen off the deck

19. play kitty cat (eat snacks from a round lidded container he has dubbed his kitty cat bowl)

20. replace any batteries and light bulbs that seem to need it

I don't even have any toys at my house

*this is the only episode we have ever watched or seem likely to ever watch

[anolis3]

"The Missing of Clairedelune", by Christelle Dabos.

"With that, Mother Hildegarde stuck a hand in one of her pockets. This gesture might have remained anecdotal if the whole arm hadn't started to follow the movement, as if sucked into the void.", from The Missing of Clairedelune.

"I loved God, yes, but I hated that book he'd open at the drop of a hat. God, on the other hand, amused him enormously. When God was happy, he wrote. When God was angry, he wrote. And one day, when God was in a very bad mood, he made a huge mistake. God broke the world into pieces.", from The Missing of Clairedelune.

[aprillikesthings]

@birdsquirrel left these tags on their reblog of my reblog of this post

YEAH honestly I love congregational singing in church, and I really think that humans lost something when we seemed to decide that only "good" singers should sing where people might hear them.

And okay so I love Hildegard of Bingen, who lived in the 1100's, and she's famous for having written a BUNCH of music (among...so, so many other things holy shit)

And the recordings that I like best, and which are meant to be as close as possible to what they would've sounded like at the time, are by Sequentia, right?

But .....Sequentia is all GOOD singers.

Hildegard wrote those hymns for the nuns in her own abbey. Who were not, I don't believe, chosen for their singing ability.

And don't get me wrong, singing the same songs day in and day out for years on end does improve your ability to stay on pitch a great deal.

But there's still no way the Sequentia recordings sound the same as the nuns in her abbey did!

And I kind of wish I could find a far more amateurish recording, sometimes?

They're still worth listening to, and to my delight someone on spotify put together a playlist that's just all of Sequentia's recordings of Hildegard's music. (It's just over nine hours long! She wrote SO MUCH MUSIC.)

I will say though: While it's likely none of them will sound like the hymns you grew up with, if you like people singing hymns with GUSTO who are not necessarily good singers, there are many recordings of shape note singing! What's ironic is that the shape note system was invented to try to teach people how to sight-read hymns, but over the years it developed into its own very specific style of singing. On top of that, the harmonies used are sometimes odd/off to modern ears, and the tenors often have the tune.

For instance, here is a recording of a bluegrass cover of the shape-note arrangement of the hymn Sweet Prospect (....which I love, SO MUCH)(links are all gonna be to youtube), but it's all men, so:

Here is a professional singing group of women singing it a capella, again, in the shape note arrangement

And here is an American shape note convention singing it in 2015--because this is at an actual "sing," they sing the whole tune through reciting the adapted solfege syllables of the notes before singing it with the words of the hymn:

And this is the sheet music they're going from (open in new tab to make it clearer obv):

(Also: shape note singing is, going by the websites/youtube videos I saw, popular in Ireland and Germany??? Which is amazing considering up until like twenty years ago it was only done in the American South/Appalachia anymore.)

[laurelindis]

OC tag game!

Thanks for tag @ronavorona16 @nerrlet @brloche @hypnostallev <3 Sorry, I'm so busy with my diploma right now that I see these posts and forget about them Rules: Cross out the things your OC hasn't done. If anyone wants me to elaborate, feel free to send me an ask about any of these! For Hildegard von Valancius

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won a Bet | Lost a Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themself To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Sexually Assaulted | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured/Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/ Uncle I tag: @mistresssheo @fleurderat @hyenamurena @murthingsblog @kshert @cawyden-gaming (excuse me if you've already been tagged or done this xD)

[machoestofmen]

Tilde + 7 for the kiss meme 👀

Fandom: Soul Calibur Pairing: Hilde/Tira (with bonus Hilde/Gerhilde) Kiss Prompt: 7 (...to shut them up)

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

"Sloppy work on your part."

As Gerhilde marched through the halls of Wolfkrone Castle with a tightly shackled assassin in tow, she glowered at her prisoner with tired eyes, having ached too hard to get a good night's sleep after this assassin, apparently called Tira, had tried and failed to infiltrate the keep and make an attempt on Princess Regent Hildegard's life. Tira may have been extremely skilled, but Wolfkrone's guardsmen were all a cut above the rest, and she was captured without any deaths. If only the same could be said about hers and her men's injuries.

She glanced down at Tira's left ankle, and although her expression revealed nothing, she had an internal smirk as she watched Tira try to hide her limp from when Gerhilde yanked her ankle with a whip-sword. 'Serves you right, pigeon.'

Tira, whose face was already darker than the average prisoner who had suffered a humiliating defeat and been kept in a dungeon overnight, snarled at the insult. "You'll be the first kill when I escape."

Gerhilde scoffed. "As though you ever could; a young bumpkin lad would show better skill pelting a rabbit to death with rocks than your own talents as an assassin."

Tira was about to bite back—whether verbally or literally was impossible to tell—when Gerhilde pushed open the doors to the throne room. Sitting on the throne itself, dressed in full armor and looking cross enough that one might have suspected she was about to march forth and punch Tira in the face, was Princess Hildegard. Gerhilde shoved Tira forward, and barked at her, "You will show respect and kneel, wretch."

As angry as she had been earlier, Tira's bitterness had melted away immediately at the sight of Hilde, her voice increasing in pitch and sounding like she was having a pleasant dream, "Silly, there's only one warrior I kneel to."

Hilde's brow furrowed tighter. "The Azure Knight," she did not ask so much as state.

Tira giggled and nodded in confirmation instead of saying anything. "As I suspected," Hilde grumbled in return. "And I would assume I would have an easier time pulling your teeth than getting information about him out of you, correct?"

"Yep! I would choose death over turning traitor to my master!" Tira said cheerfully. "I could never sully my master's image by revealing any weaknesses. Not that they even have one, hee hee!"

One of Hilde's brows raised. "They?"

"Try as you might," Tira sneered in a sing-song voice, "you'll never figure it ooouuut~!"

Hilde stood, and rested her wrist on the hilt of her sheathed sword. "We will see about that."

"Ooh, so pretty in your bright and shiny armor," taunted the assassin, "glinting in the sunlight. A knight as charming as you would definitely be welcomed into the Azure Knight's ranks, if you're willing. I'll even put in good word for you if you let me go right now!"

Remaining silent, Hilde frowned severely.

Tira's smile grew wider. "Or do you think you can seduce answers out of me with your royal wiles? Warm brown eyes, fiery red hair, a fighter's body with strength that can match even the strongest malfested... I bet you've got some beautiful thighs under that metal, the kind that can break a horse's neck- ouchie! That was my foot, you dog! Hahaha!"

"Her Highness is a princess, not some tavern wench to flirt with!" Gerhilde shouted angrily. "Yes, she is a fine example of beauty, regality, and charisma, not to mention–"

"Gerhilde, that is quite enough," Hilde interrupted, and Tira snickered. "Aww, does the little doggy love her princess too much? Wanna sleep at the foot of her bed? Or, or maybe, you wanna even crawl under the blankets with her? I bet you do!"

Gerhilde's face instantly turned almost as red as Hilde's hair at that. "I-I-I would never," she stammered out, "such intimacy is beyond my station, th-that couldn't possibly... oh, Christ's nails..." and Tira cackled at her shameful cursing.

"I would deeply appreciate it if you would stop tormenting my officers, assassin," Hilde sighed grouchily, and Tira responded by cocking her hips seductively and batting her eyelashes at the princess regent. "Aren't I pretty too, though? Maybe pretty enough for you, even?" she taunted. "It'd be a real shame for two pretty ladies like us to kill each other, wouldn't it? Yeah, your blood'll look gorgeous on my hands and face and in my mouth, but if you really devote yourself to my master, you can keep it all inside you, and we can be pretty together!"

Stepping closer, Hilde put her other hand on her hip. "Yes, I admit that you possess a unique beauty all your own, but don't think that your beauty alone will save you."

Tira pouted childishly. "Oh no, aren't I pretty enough for you? Even someone who looks as good as I do doesn't meet your standards?"

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room when Hilde made a smirk of her own. "Close enough, at least," she said before putting her steel-covered fingers around Tira's neck and putting her plump lips on Tira's painted ones.

Immediately, Tira froze and seized up, her eyes going wide, especially when she felt Hilde's tongue push its way inside her mouth; Tira could taste hints of Hilde's breakfast from earlier that morning, wild oats with berries, warm rye bread and apple jam, and she moaned softly into it. When Hilde parted, Tira was absolutely stunned, and Gerhilde's jaw practically hit the floor. "Whoa..." was all that came out of Tira after that, her body wobbling a bit.

Hilde pushed Tira over, who hit the hard floor flat on her rump, and she started to blush as well, almost as hard as Gerhilde. Smiling down at Tira confidently, Hilde spoke domineeringly, "For now, I think I can appreciate some silence. Gerhilde, take this raven to her cage, and we can have her croaking out what I want to hear when I've had my fill of peace and quiet."

Gibbering for a few seconds, Gerhilde finally managed to spit out, "I, uh, erm, uhh, y-yes, Your Highness," and heft Tira to her feet. Tira gibed at her with a mirthful hiss, "Jealous little puppy!" but was silent from there on out. Both of them stared at Hilde as she left them behind.