#felician sisters

[sea-owl]

Back on my bullshit. Ignore histories and timelines, and my made up empire. We don't give a shit about that here.

So, an au where when Colin was out traveling, he was visiting an empire similar to ancient Greece or Rome. He met up with a few local lords, and the next thing Edmund and Violet know their third born son is writing home that he's engaged. Colin also wrote that his fiancé and her family are traveling back with him to meet the other Bridgertons.

Well damn the family's curiosity is peaked. Through different letters to different family members, they put together that Colin's fiancé is named Penelope, and she was the daughter of a senator, though her family's power came from her maternal line, though Colin doesn't say how. She has three sisters, two currently married, and one is coming with her on the trip to England. Her mother Portia is also coming. And to Violet's delight, her son was clearly in love with this girl.

Edmund has a few additional rooms set up at Aubrey Hall. By the time they get here, the season will be over, and the family return to the countryside.

In preparation, Violet asked around about the empire her son was returning from, hoping to gain some knowledge to start conversations with the girl and her family. Most of it was, of course, gossip and rumors, but at least it's something to start with.

Edmund and Violet had prepared, but they were not prepared for the woman who stepped out of the carriage.

The woman took in her surroundings, including taking in her new hosts, before letting out a small laugh. "Cute."

She then turns back to two others who must be her daughters, and Colin.

Colin finally noticed his family who were starting to gather on the front steps. "Family! I would like to introduce you to my fiancé and her family."

Dinner had been full of questions for Penelope. Some were jokes at Colin for finally settling down. It wasn't until later when the children were playing some after dinner games that Edmund and Violet got a chance to talk to Portia one on one.

Her stare felt like she was trying to read them. It reminded Edmund of some of the other lords in the house. Well she was the wife of a senator, maybe some of it rubbed off on her.

"Well I must say I wasn't expecting this when Colin decided to travel," Violet said, starting a conversation.

"Hmm, indeed," Portia hummed in agreement. "Though I suppose it's for the best. Penelope has worked so hard and always did desire a genuine love match. With Mr. Bridgerton she can be assured that it is a true love match."

"Colin mentioned it was your family that held more influence," Edmund said. "Is that what made it difficult to find a love match?"

Portia nodded. "Every noble son in the empire wants a chance to marry one of the Emperor's nieces. Especially since my brother has yet to produce his own heir."

Violet and Edmund choked on their wine.

Portia let out a small smirk, lost in her thoughts. "It was quite satisfying though when news spread of Penelope and Mr. Bridgerton's engagement. I thought Felician was going to fall over laughing when he heard the news."

[resplendentoutfit]

Portrait by Benjamin von Block (Here, Leopold was content to grab the nearest tablecloth with which to drape himself. Not to bad effect, mind you.) He may not have been handsome but he certainly had a flair for fashion!

The outrageous, extravagant, sometimes quizzical, and often humorous outfits worn by subjects of old portraits.

Half-assed History Lesson. Expect errors. Feel free to correct.

Here he is again, the banner-boy of this blog - Leopold I (Leopold Ignaz Joseph Balthasar Franz Felician, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Hungary, Croatia, and Bohemia ! (If I were speaking it, I'd be out of breath!) Leopold of the famous, in-bred Habsburg jaw.

 Because his jaw was depicted unusually large on a 1670 silver coin, Leopold was nicknamed "the Hogmouth"; however, most collectors do not believe the coin was an accurate depiction.

Portrait of Margaret Theresa of Spain by an unknown artist, c. 1662–1664, currently displayed in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

So, Leopold had been waiting for years to marry his niece, Margaret Theresa of Spain. When she was a mere 15 years of age, she married Uncle Leopold who was also Cousin Leopold. By marriage to him, Margaret became Holy Roman Empress, German Queen, Archduchess of Austria and Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. Gotta catch my breath again. Though she kept her Spanish customs and never learned German, she fondly referred to her husband as "Onkle". How quaint.

There is a resemblance, don't you think? Who would've guessed.

The couple had a gaggle of children but only a couple made it to adulthood. One such was Maria Antonia Josepha Benedicta Rosalia Petronella. As one would expect, she bears an especially strong likeness to her parents.

In fact, Maria Antonia had the highest coefficient of inbreeding in the House of Habsburg. As we know, her father was her mother's maternal uncle and paternal first cousin once removed. Her maternal grandparents were also uncle and niece. Her coefficient was higher than that of a child born to a parent and offspring, or brother and sister. Despite this, it is written in the Wikipedia entry about her that she was intelligent and cultivated, sharing her parents' aptitude for music.

Portrait of Maria Antonia by an unidenfied artist

This concludes The Resplendent Outfit Half-assed History Lesson. I'm sure there are errors. Feel free to point them out.

[mysteriousangels]

Solo Para: Same as Always

It was right after the events of the tower, after waking up and making the awkward ride the hospital with a bunch of strangers and his sister he was tired. After he was released from the hospital, he spent the next few days wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Every once in a while, he would start to hear voices again, none of them familiar to him anymore but for some reason it still hurt him to hear their voices sound so distressed. 

Shaking off the thoughts of his prolonged he stood up with a grimace forgetting that he did in fact have a stab wound and did in fact die, until that good old sun drop flower in his DNA kicked in and ruined that whole dying plan. Of course, he made it a point for the doctors not to tell anyone that he had left the hospital as long as he took care of himself. He just wasn’t in the mood to hear about how worried the people who didn’t actually give a shit about him were. He had even free time in the hospital to read back on everything and feel bad. He grabbed his keys and locked the door before turning off all the lights in the apartment and opened up the window. He climbed out the window a bit wobbly and unstable, but he made it down and ran his hand through his hair. He should have been better at that, and he knew it but instead he was barely able to do as simple of a task as that and it frustrated him. Actually, everything frustrated him in this moment from the fact that piece of his memory was missing to the fact that his own twin seemed to believe nothing was wrong the entire month.

Felix knew a lot of this stuff was out of his control especially his memories, but he didn’t know how else to feel and it’s not like he was going to go to anyone to talk these feeling out. If he did the only person, he felt like he could be open with was his dad, who wasn’t the most reliable considering he wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from their mother. He walked out to a field and laid down looking up at the moon. Crowned Prince Felician, a joke of a title. He wasn’t someone who earned it, in fact he only got said title cause Hannah’s wasn’t mentally stable at the time. Then there was the label and role he spent years curating ‘Kind and Caring Prince’ another title he didn’t deserve, not after he spent a month just trying to drown out the screams of others instead of helping them.

It took a minute for him to realize that he was crying, it was the first time in years that he actually cried. Who would have thought that even he would reach his breaking point, but after tonight he would pretend nothing happened. He didn’t want pity or people to pretend to care. He was okay, He was fine. It was the same thing he told himself back then when he decided to play into those roles he created. After tonight, things would go on the same as always.

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS OCTOBER 29 "There is only one tragedy in this life, not to have been a saint."- Leon Bloy

Bl. Maria Restituta, Roman Catholic Nun and Martyr. Sr. Mary Restituta was arrested by the Gestapo and accused not only of hanging the crosses but also of having written a poem mocking Hitler.On 29 October 1942 she was sentenced to death by the guillotine.The Nazis offered her freedom if she would abandon the Franciscan sisters, but she refused. When a request for clemency reached the desk of Martin Bormann, a high ranking Nazi official, he replied that her execution would provide “effective intimidation” for others who might want to resist the Nazis. She spent the rest of her days in prison caring for other prisoners. She was beheaded on 30 March 1943. She was 48 years old. Feastday: October 29

ST. FELICIAN, MARTYR OF CARTHAGE

St. Cuthbert Mayne, Roman Catholic Priest and English Martyr. Before being brought to the place of execution, Mayne was offered his life in return for a renunciation of his religion and an acknowledgment of the supremacy of the queen as head of the church. Declining both offers, he kissed a copy of the Bible, declaring that, "the queen neither ever was, nor is, nor ever shall be, the head of the church of England".

The Douai Martyrs, More than 160 priests trained in the English College of Douai, France, returned to England and Wales and faced arrest, torture, and execution by English authorities. A large group, more than eighty­were beatified in 1929, and English dioceses celebrate the feasts of these martyrs.

St. Kennera , 4th century. A virgin martyr of Scotland educated with Sts. Ursula and Regulus of Patras, Greece. She was a hermitess in Kirk Kenner, Galloway, Scotland.

St. Elfleda, 1000 A.D. Benedictine abbess, the daughter of Earl Ethelwold, who founded her abbey in Ramsey, England.

St. Colman of Kilmacduagh, 623 A.D. Abbot­bishop, son of the Irish chieftain, Duac. He lived as a hermit at Arranmore and Burren, in County Clare, Ireland. Made a bishop against he will, he founded a monastery at Kilmacduagh, on land given by King Guaire of Connaught.

[goalhofer]

Felician Sisters Convent in Enfield, Connecticut.

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay is a Felician sister, dancer, writer and artist. She dances live on her Instagram (@sister_d) and blogs at Religious Life for Beginners.  You can also catch her performances and videos about life as a religious sister on her YouTube channel.

In September 2020, Catholic Artist Connection’s Laura Pittenger spoke with Sister Desiré about dance, creativity in religious life, and how the Church can better serve its artists, particularly those of color. An edited and condensed version of that conversation is included below: 

LAURA PITTENGER (LP): I have to tell you, I mentioned to a friend that I was going to interview a Felician sister about her art and my friend said, “Is this the sister who dances on instagram? I LOVE HER.” You have a lot of fans!

SISTER DESIRÉ FINDLAY (SDF): I joke with my friends that I’m like a “small big deal.” (Editor’s note: As of this writing, she has over 3,500 followers on Instagram. We think she’s a regular big deal.)

LP: Where are you currently living and where are you from originally? 

SDF: I live in Pittsburgh, PA, but I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I also lived in California and Connecticut for awhile. Right now I live with one other sister in my community, which varies wherever I go. I’ve lived with 20 to 6 sisters at a time. My favorite was when there were three of us. It was a cool balance, we all traveled a lot, two of us we’d hang out and welcome the third back home, and another would leave and return and we’d welcome her home. it was like a seamless kind of movement.

LP: How did you become a dancer? 

SDF: It started when I was very young. My mom put me in ballet at three years old. We lived in Germany because my dad was in the Air Force, and I remember being in ballet class, running around in a circle on my tiptoes, and I started crying. Maybe because everything was in German! So when we moved back to the U.S., she put me in gymnastics. I went back into ballet for seven years, and in high school I joined the dance team. I learned other dance styles, jazz and hip-hop, those are my fun energy-based dances, but ballet has stayed my favorite. But what I do now is contemporary, not classical.

LP: Who are some dancers that you admire and who inspired you as a child? 

SDF: Actually it was more like gymnasts. There were two I remember: Dominique Moceanu and Dominique Dawes. I don’t even think I considered this as a child, but now that I look back on it, it makes sense because they both have darker skin, or darker hair, or are from a different culture. They both reflected me and my sister, we looked up to them. They were just so good, and we could see ourselves in them. Watching them, it was like I could see myself in performing arts too. 

LP: In the interview you did with America Magazine last year [above] you mentioned that dance for you is like a prayer. Could you share a little more about that?

SDF: I never experienced dance as prayer until I was invited to do a prayerful dance for an event. I didn’t know that was possible or that dance could be anything other than performance. The event was a dance to celebrate sisters who had spent 60 to 75 years in the convent. When I noticed that I was inviting all of us in the community to speak with God through my dance, I was like - dance can do this? I can speak to God with my entire body. I didn’t know why I hadn’t been doing that. 

I don’t do a lot of formal dance as prayer. I do lead group sometimes or on social media, and people can join in if they want. It’s spontaneous. I don’t choreograph unless i’m leading, but I like to just find whatever song is standing out to me at the time, and let it move me. Sometimes you hear songs that you have to move to, very prayerful songs, some by Audrey Assad, for example, that let us reflect on God and our lives. Sometimes a song will come to me and be in my head for awhile and I just need to dance it out, or I’m in a mood, and look through my songs on my iPad and see what songs I have. 

For example, in Advent, The Piano Guys have this cover of O Come O Come Emmanuel that’s instrumental. (I love that song, even though we hear it all season, I don’t get tired of it.) For some reason their instrumental version was stuck in my head, their version. I could not stop thinking about it, and I thought I’d dance it out. Even though there were no lyrics to it, I really felt that song. The line about captives being set free - I could express that through my limbs, that freedom, to be captive and set free by this amazing God who came to be human.

LP: What kind of support within the Felician community have you received for your dance, and how do you think religious communities can benefit from having artists in them?

SDF: My community has been very supportive of me in many things already anyway, but I would say when it comes to dance, on a personal basis my sisters will ask me about it, or send emails or call, or just when I see them at gatherings - “How are you doing? I’ve been reading about you! Keep up good work.” Or they ask if I’ve been using my dance, if they haven’t seen it lately. The community invites me to dance for events, like the Transitus of St. Clare of Assisi - when she passed away and went to her Spouse in Heaven, we have a ceremony to commemorate that. They asked me to pray that out in dance. So they’re not just encouraging me to dance, but asking me to do it for gatherings. 

I’m not the only artist. We have so many creative sisters. The sisters have the space to really pursue their creative skills or put them to use somehow. One sister does all our communications and designs our prayer spaces and booklets. She probably would have been like an interior designer or graphic designer, but here she is enhancing our gatherings with her talents. Sometimes you need something to look appealing to make people want to care. Creativity adds to life, I think, color, personality.

LP: There are so many religious orders out there. What drew you to the Felician sisters?

SDF: I was in college when I met them, it was on a 100-mile pilgrimage. I didn’t know it was going to be 100 miles, or that it was to pray for vocations. I’m not a detail person - God just knows how to work with me! God’s just like, “Come do this.” I signed up for the pilgrimage for the cultural aspect, to walk through pueblos. I love my New Mexican heritage. I had no thought about it being a Catholic pilgrimage. I met these two Felician sisters on the pilgrimage, and I had never heard of the order in my life. They were so different, one gentle introvert and one loud, happy extrovert. I love that they are just themselves. They don’t have to be anybody else, to be like or look like or act like each other. They can just be. So I thought, maybe I could be myself. I had thought of religious life before, to be able to pray and serve, that’s cool, but it was never something I thought I saw in my future, until I met them.

LP: What is the formation process like for the Felician sisters? 

SDF: Entering the Felicians is a nine-year process, minimum. Other orders can take six years minimum. It deepens in intensity as you go, but the first year I was still going to school and living on my own, so I’d visit with them and had a director. Then I moved in my second year and learned about the community and the saints. I became a novice and learned more about spiritual aspect of the community and my spiritual life. And then after that, four years later, I made my first vows. That’s when I moved out and was a sister, living the vows, but it still wasn’t forever, I could still change my mind. That stage is six years by itself. This August 15, 2020, was my one-year anniversary of making final vows. So it’s been 10 years. 

LP: How do you think the Catholic church can do better, starting right now, in supporting artists - and in your case, artists of color? Or Catholics of color in general?

SDF: I think even just this conversation, reaching out to us. Because we can try and create our own spaces to voice what we want to voice and share art we want to share, but unless we’re invited to share, it’s not going to get into a larger space. A Felician sister is a member of the The Stained Glass Association of America, and she said lately they’ve been getting calls from churches with predominantly Black parishioners with churches with stained glass of only white people, and they’re saying, “This doesn’t reflect our church, and Jesus wasn’t white, and we want diversity, how do we do that? How do we go about changing these windows? How do we invite artists of color into this industry? How do we bring more diversity in, to reflect the church we have?” It’s just by invitation, that’s where it starts. The sisters invited me to do this dance. Invitation.

LP: What would you say to someone who feels drawn to both their art or performance but also might feel a call to religious life? Do you think art can also be a form of vocation?

SDF: Like I said, I’m not a detail person, so I wouldn’t have looked up or researched anything. I go as my life unfolds. I don’t plan things. I know there are people out there who think they need to research everything - I didn’t do any of that. Everyone has a different way of discerning. When it comes to vocation and living your full authentic self, including your creativity, whatever form that takes, your passion - it could be immigration policy - there are ways to incorporate that into your vocation, whether you’re married, a sister, or a layperson. Do a little research and say, “Is that community open to that?” In some communities, everybody has the same ministry. In mine, you get to choose your own. There are communities where you can be an immigration lawyer. If I wanted to be a heart surgeon, I can be! 

You have to know what your non-negotiables are. The goodness of God - He already knew my non-negotiable was my creativity, and I didn’t realize that. God led me to a community at the right time and in a way that spoke to me. I just said i’m going with it. Nothing else seemed to fit. 

We have a style of dress we like to wear as Felician sisters, but we have an option. You can be more traditional, or you can wear a dress and make sure you wear a crucifix. There are some guidelines, but you get to choose. You can be an individual. 

Pay attention to what speaks to you. Pay attention to what brings resistance in a community. Knowing that I can be so creative is part of what makes my vocation so fruitful. I can design notebooks! I can share things on social media on my own time. I never knew that’s what i wanted. After I realized dance could be prayer, I want everything I do to have that kind of meaning. That was my non-negotiable. God said, “I gave you these gifts.” It reminds me of the story of Abraham and Isaac. When I was going to enter the Felician sisters, I thought that I’d probably have to give up dance, God said, “I gave it to you.” I was willing to give it up, but God gave it back to me a hundredfold. I’ve gotten to teach dance here and abroad. I never thought I’d do anything like that.

LP: Do you have any words of advice for other Catholic artists who may be struggling right now amid the COVID-19 pandemic and everything else in the world?

SDF: I was very much struggling when all this started. I was used to traveling and meeting lots of people all over the place. I felt very seen, very heard. Suddenly I was in my own little world, and I didn’t have to get up or go anywhere. Before, I was being invited to spaces, but now I have to create spaces for myself. I wasn’t posting dance videos until the pandemic happened. I wanted to connect, but couldn’t in the ordinary way. My suggestion would be to create the connection that you feel you’re missing, because a lot of us were connecting in ways we were used to: coffee, concerts... 

Whether we are an observer or an artist, we’re used to connecting through creativity. Now we have to find ways to share that creativity and enjoy it in different spaces. So to be open to those, it means a lot of technology. It still matters and makes a difference for others. I’ve felt a change in myself, being able to connect with people through technology and through Zoom dance group. At first I didn’t want to do it, but people were asking to experience dance as prayer. The Zoom group is open for anyone, but now I’ve just been doing Instagram and Facebook live. I just tried it for the first time last month. I didn’t know people were craving this different type of prayer experience until people started sharing it. Even when I was unwilling, God created this space for myself and other people and I get to share this gift. Here we are praying together, with openness.

[colubrina]

Women-di-Can

The Sisters at the hotel where I’m staying had a costume contest. The winner had a sign on her front reading ‘mendicant’ and a sign on her back reading ‘women-di-can,’ and I think that’s the most awesome thing I’ve heard today.

[adogandfish]

At my therapist’s request, I’ve started writing my dreams down. 2 out of 2 dreams so far involve nuns/religious life.

[officialromaniantranslatiuni]

Euphoria but set in Romania

Welcome to Liceul Tehnologic Euforia Sud. This is your headmistress, Miss Andreea Dracusamaia. Let me introduce you to the elite - our most iconic students.

Rodica Binecuvantata is your beloved vamaioata. She once stole a wallet and felt sorry about it when she opened it only to find no money and thousands of unpaid bills. Life is tough around here. This is why Rodi decided to start a Tarot business. She is really good at it and Vlad Casino, NetBet and others have named her their number one enemy. Salam even wrote a manea about her talentTM. Also, her sister, Geo, once fell sick after we had a problem with mold or so she said.

Madalina "Madi" Petrica grew up wanting to be a bebelusa, but once Cronica Carcotasilor became worse than Dan Diaconescu's Elodia series, she decided to change her career path. So she went to Bravo, ai still! season 72, but things got out of hand. First of all, she threw a papuc cu toc at Maurice for calling her mopsica, then it was revealed that she bribed Baduleasca with eclairs to let her sleep in her closet. Yes, the police has visited our school grounds because of her aggressive behaviour against... Let me check "curve si serpoaice care te barfeste pe la spate pe la spate", but weren't we all young at some point?

Cassandra Duru is our school's influencer. She was Madi's BFF and they used to do TikTok dances together. When she was younger, Super Nanny came to pay her family a visit. Then her mom left for Schimb de mame and never came back. Like every single Romanian child born after the revolution, she was raised by her grandma. When Bravo, ai still! decided to add new contestants because they needed more drama, she joined the show. Maurice didn't call her mopsica, but Baduleasca did call her a regina regeasca which pissed Madi off. No, the fight was not just for views.

Lexi Duru is a published writer. She has experimented with both Romanian literary genres - trashy erotic fanfiction and writing about nothing. The second genre has left her quite disappointed because it is mostly for Romanian male writers and, as she lacks the inherent misogyny, her works were rejected. But you can still find her on Wattpad as .:xxLexi_Dark_Angelxx:. where she updates her kidnapped by mafia stories.

Felician is... he dropped out in sixth grade and that was maybe ten years ago, so we don't really know why he's still hanging around. Yes, I am aware that he may be the one selling weed and cheap cigarettes behind the school's pastry shop, but he takes such good care of Carbune, his younger brother! ...What do you mean Carbune is the one who stole our smartboard?

Iuli Varzaru is... Has anyone seen Iuli this semester? Oh, she married the mayor and they left with the whole town's funds to the Dominican Republic? But she's a minor. They got a special dispensation from BOR? Oh, ok.

Catinca de la Caransebes started from the bottom - she used to dance in cheap manele videos - and now she has her own podcast. Maruta threatened to destroy her after she let Madi say during an after-BAS interview that Andra is not the Jesus of music, but she's still holding strong.

Luca Matei Stefan Iacob is our football star and that's all I can say. No, I was not threatened by his parents to keep my mouth shut. Yes, it is totally normal for parents to drive their '62 BMW registered in Bulgaria on our hallways in order to deliver their precious children right in front of their class.

[bagansarmy]

┊ 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧 ･* — 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

┊ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 ･* — 𝖹𝖺𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝗌𝗒𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗌𝗆𝖾́, 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍.

┊ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ･* — 𝟤,𝟣𝟣𝟫

┊ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ･* — 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗌.

┊ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ･* — 𝖥𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇!

𝗡𝗲𝘅𝘁

𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 -- ✧ -- 𝗭𝗮𝗸 𝗕𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖨👻: 𝖭𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖳𝗈 𝖬𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎

Zak’s POV

𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 investigation of a haunted location. Today my GAC will be investigating the Yorktown Memorial Hospital rumored to be the most haunted in the state of Texas. We have a few people that have experienced apparitions, voices, and even a demonic presence. Sitting midway between San Antonio and the Gulf Coast, Yorktown Memorial Hospital was renounced in 1980. It was founded by a religious group known as the Felician Sister, a catholic church that initially served as a rehabilitation center for those suffering from drug and alcohol abuse.

It's said the spirits of those who passed are not crossed over, STILL roaming the halls trying to escape the torture they once led. Aaron and I were meeting with Vera Cooper, the caretaker to the place. I walked up to the front entrance and met Vera, whom I'd mic up before the interview.

"So, Vera, what type of experiences have you had?" I asked as

"Well, the hospital was built in the 1950s and opened a year later and ran by nuns, BUT this place was far from holy," Vera explained as we walked down the hall. "The hospital experienced a tremendous amount of deaths. Most of them were babies."

"They would kill babies here?" I asked, astonished, and my heart hurt at the very thoughts of doctors, nurses, or anyone murdering babies.

"Well, not particularly kill them. Women would come in and get abortions in the labor and delivery wing." Vera grinned uncomfortably. "In some cases, the babies that were born were to women who were raped."

"That's terrible." I groaned, shaking my head.

Imagine the pain and distraught those women had to go through, both physically and mentally. "The doctors didn't even try to save them."

"That's so fucked up. It makes me anger not going to lie." Aaron said, clenching his jaw in anger. I felt the same way.

How can one not try and save a helpless infant? Hearing her say that makes my blood boil.

The more Vera told me about the history of this hospital, the angrier I got, but I suppressed those feelings because we were filming.

"In 1980, the hospital closed down, then a year later, it turned into a substance and mental hospital," Vera explained as we walked upstairs to the second floor. "So here was the library. There's a spirit here that does not like women. Whenever I come up here, I get my hair pulled."

"What about other women?" I curiously asked, crossing my arms.

"I brought my daughter with me one day, and she was up here. I was downstairs, and suddenly she came running full speed towards me and out of the door. I followed her and asked her what happened, and she said she felt someone yank her hair hard to the point she ended up having a migraine later on." Vera told me, and I couldn't believe what she said.

"Wow, that's unbelievable," I said, shaking my head. "Do you know who he could've been before he passed?"

"No, but all I know is that he's angry, and he doesn't like women." She replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Suddenly the air got colder in the room. "I think the angry man is here."

"Aaron, hand me a recorder," I said to Aaron behind the camera. He hands me the recorder, and I immediately begin recording.

"Are you here with us?" Silence. "Are you the angry man that doesn't like women?" Silence. "Why don't you like women?" After a few more questions, I stopped recording and played the feedback.

After I asked why you like women, a deep voice speaks back. 'Fuck that bitch.'

"Yes, he's furious. I can feel his anger." Vera said, and she looked uneasy. "I-I need to get out of here."

We follow Vera out of the library to the psych ward, where there have been numerous accounts of townspeople saying that there's a demonic spirit there that attacks whoever steps foot in the hospital. There was this one eyewitness where a woman went inside the psych ward and ended up gett three scratches down her side deep enough to draw blood. Before the lockdown, I want to bring in a psychic medium, so Aaron and I go to town and ask around for a medium. Just when I gave up on finding one, a woman came running up to me

"I heard you're looking for a psychic medium." The woman said.

"Yea, I'm Zak, and this is Aaron." I introduced myself.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Celeste. I know someone that's a psychic medium. She's here in town." The woman grinned up at me.

"Is she available to talk?" I asked Celeste, and she nodded.

"Yes she's in the cafe. I'll go and get her." She said and walked away.

Looking at Aaron, he had the same look on my face. "She's cute." He mouthed, and I rolled my eyes.

Soon the same blonde woman walked out with a brunette woman behind her. She seemed to be talking to her about me searching for a psychic medium. "These are the guys I was telling you about.

"Hi, I'm Zak. Are you the psychic medium?" I asked the dark-haired woman.

"Yes, I am. My name's Esme." She smiled, shaking my head.

"Good, do you have time to do a reading on a building?" I questioned, hoping she'd say yes.

"Sure, I'm free." She smiled at me. Her smile was irresistible.

"Okay, great, we're filming at the Yorktown Memorial Hospital. Can you meet us there?" I asked the medium Esme, and she nodded.

"I'll leave now." She replied before walking away with her friend.

"Let's go," I said to Aaron.

We arrived back at the location not long after a car pulled up. Esme and Celeste got out of the vehicle, and walked up to me.

Esme's POV

The ghost hunters I was introduced to set up a mic and started the interview.

"Okay, so we haven't disclosed any information on this location to you, right?" The male named Zak asked me.

"Yes." I nodded.

"Before we go inside, can you explain a little bit about your gift?" Zak asked me, crossing his arms making his biceps protrude out more.

"I speak to the dead, and I can draw them." I grinned, laughing as I shrugged.

"Plain and simple?" He questioned, nodding.

"Yes, plain and simple," I confirmed, nodding.

"All right, let's go talk to some ghosts," Zak said, and we walked inside.

As soon as I walked inside, the feeling of sadness and dread washed over me. Venturing further inside, I can feel someone following behind me. "There's someone following me." I turned around and saw a flash of long blonde hair.

The presence didn't feel masculine. It felt feminine, and I knew it was female. "Is it female or male?"

"It's female. Every time we pass an opening, the woman peeks around the corner." I spoke, demonstrating what I saw.

Suddenly I got pain in my stomach. It hurt so bad that it brought me to my knees, but Zak caught me. "Are you okay?"

"Thank you. Yes, I'm fine. I just got a terrible pain in my stomach." I explained and saw the same woman next to me. "What happened to you?"

'I lost my baby.'

"How did you lose your baby?" I asked the spirit. Her blonde hair looked wet and dirty, and she wore a hospital gown.

'Doctors took my baby.'

"Why'd they take your baby?" I sat down at a random table inside a room and took out my sketch pad and pencils.

'Unstable. Doctors gave me bad meds, and then everything went black.'

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry." I spoke and began sketching the female apparition I was talking with previously. "What's your baby's name?"

'Anthony.'

"That's a lovely name." I smiled into the empty room. "What's your name?"

'Madison.'

I sketched the female apparition from her long hair to her almond-shaped doe eyes. She has a small button nose, high cheekbones, and full pouty lips. After finishing my sketch, I saw that the woman was now gone. I smiled at my work and showed it to the camera as I stood up.

"Wow, that is amazing." Aaron, the guy behind the camera, said.

"This is incredible." Zak nodded in amazement.

Thanking the two men, we continued throughout the building and then upstairs. As we entered a room, I immediately got the feeling of anger.

"There's a man that's angry and very territorial in this room, and he doesn't like me in here," I said as the man peered down at me. His gaze made me feel anxious and uncomfortable. "He's standing next to me, peering down at me. Almost menacingly."

'GET OUT!'

I winced as the man screamed in my ear as I held it from the loudness. "Is he yelling in your ear?"

"Yea, and he's loud." I nodded. The angry man then smirked at me creepily as he was checking me out.

The next thing I know, he slaps me on my ass, gasping and turning around. "What happened?"

"He just smacked me on my ass," I whispered, shaking my head. "You have no right to touch me!" The man only smirked before fading away.

Leaving out the room, we continue down the hall until we reach a sign that read 'Psych Ward.' The second my foot stepped past the threshold, a darker than black thing emerged from the floor and stared at me terrifyingly. This thing had glowing yellow eyes that pierced into my soul. The room felt dark, and my chest began feeling heavy. I found myself hyperventilating, and my body swayed.

"Maybe you should sit down." I hear Zak say as he holds me in a chair.

I sat there trying to calm my breathing down. "Why are you affecting me? I mean no harm." I clutched my rosemaries necklace my grandmother gave me and said a prayer.

"What's here?" Zak asked, squatting down to my eye level.

"There's a thing here. It's darker than dark and doesn't like that we're in here." I replied as the thing growled.

'Kill Zak.'

Hearing that, I gasped and glanced up at Zak. "What happened?"

"It wants to kill you." I breathed, running my hand through my hair.

"Of course it does," Aaron muttered, nodding his head.

"I have that effect on haunted places. Spirits, demons, and such always want to kill me." Zak said, and the dark thing vanished.

Standing up, I caught my breath and proceeded around the hospital's second floor. When I was about to leave the second floor, I got a flash of a little boy with brown hair and beautiful green eyes. I couldn't resist the urge to sit on the stairs and draw him. Once I finished the art piece, I handed the one I drew previously and gave them to Zak.

"Who's the little boy? "He asked, looking down at the drawings.

"Son," I replied, pointing to the female I drew. "She told me she lost her baby."

"How'd she lose her baby?" Aaron asked me from behind the camera.

"The doctors took him," I answered, staring into Zak's pretty blue eyes. "All because they say she was unstable. The doctors gave her some meds and killed her."

"That's awful," Zak said in infuriated.

"It sucks how someone can treat another person like that." I shook my head, proceeding down the stairs.

"Yes, it does." Zak agreed as we walked outside of the hospital. "Well, thank you for coming out and reading the place. Do you live in Texas?"

"No, I'm visiting family. I live in Vegas." I replied, taking off the mic and handing it to the camera guy.

"No way." Zak had a surprised look on his face. "I do too."

"What a small world." I grinned.

"Do you have a business card? Maybe I can contact you for another investigation." Zak suggested, and I smiled, knowing he most likely wanted my number.

Reaching in my bag, I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down my phone number on it, then handed it to him. As I got in the passenger seat of Celeste's car, she drove away.

"I think you make his heartthrob." Celeste laughed.

"I don't know it's business." I grinned, shaking my head.

"Not from the look he gave you," Celeste said, smiling at me.

Shaking my head at my best friend, I rolled down the window and stared at the sunset. I don't know what it is, but there's something about that Zak guy that connects me to him for some reason. Maybe it's because we can sense energies or because I find him a little cute, but there's something there.

[amdapor-keep]

Felicians fray is a distinct different person that "infected" his soul while it was cracking due to light corruption then getting more mixed up with him as the damage got worse. so its like at 30 there is minimal overlap -> 50 fray is totally mired in felicians feelings. initially i think fray is also kind of using felician as a way to get back at the temple knights but it gets lost as his feelings about his death get mixed up with felician’s fear of his impending death and growing distrust of the exarch. so fray starts to genuinely feel for felician and latches onto felician’s desire to just leave and abandon everything, and when felician won’t do that, fray gets fed up with the way felician won’t act on his desires and fray... no longer can. so he tries to take over.

On Felician’s end he thinks Fray is kind of a freak. sorry. tbh. he’s put off by the violence he’s put off by the “darkness” he’s put off by fray’s way of teaching and snappiness. but he’s drawn into the drk quests as he feels more alienated from the scions (because theyre all like ‘we will sacrifice ourselves if we needs must’ and felician is like ‘i wont.’ but he’s trapped between a rock (dying in the eighth umbral calamity) and a hard place (dying eventually to light corruption)) and more discomfited by being idealized by people in norvrandt, to the point where being in the tranches with fray at least feels more straightforward, in addition to the fact that frays feelings are starting to bleed into his. Drk 50 for felician takes place after mt. gulg when he thinks all is lost. after he wakes up and talks to ardbert he goes to the source one last time with the intention of running away with fray, but like. [trying very hard to think of how to say this with my sister blasting tiktoks three feet away from me] he doesn’t want to give up. he doesn’t want to abandon the scions and he doesn’t want to Light Aether Explode anyone and he kind of has to . choose to be the wol when no one is forcing him. and prevents fray from taking his place as the culmination of that. also all the scions running around looking for him is a. he woke up from being comatose and then disappeared for half a day at least

theres more mixed up in it (i think thoughts about cnj fray and the way felician is whm but also Designated Human Warhead) but i think this enough thoughts for now.

[itsdetachable]

ok so I grew up in a catholic house going to catholic school and still it's wild to me how so much of catholicism and maybe christianity as a whole? But i'm not sure lol is caught up in the judgement of others when like, everything you read and learn etc points to the opposite.

like they'll tell you "only GOD can judge!" but then turn around and say "but if you do x/y/z you're a dirty sinner sinny sin sin". They'll say only God can absolve your sins, but you're expected to go to confession and tell a priest what you've done so he can be the middle man. They say "Jesus said love your neighbor as yourself" and then say "except for these ppl because SIN". My schools were run by the Felician Sisters who are like, super into St. Francis of Assisi so there was a lot of talk about serving others, mercy for others, loving all creatures of the earth etc. Like, in general, St. Francis of Assisi was a decent guy and he was super into treating animals and humans and even PLANTS with respect.

So like, I've always felt like the teachings should be totally focused on that aspect - the mercy the love the care, helping others and uplifting others.

And like, anything else just felt so alien.

Not to mention, ppl in general just have ZERO legit knowledge about what their own religion's Guidebook has to say. When priests would go on about purgatory or hell or whatever, and you've read the Bible a few times through bc you were bored, and you know that the whole thing with Jesus dying for your sins negated Purgatory/Limbo (because, in Bible-speak, that was a 'waiting room' while the gates of heaven were closed after A&E were kicked out of Eden), and negated most if not all ppl going to hell (because if Jesus died to absolve the sins of the world, surprise! even if you sin you'll be cleansed of it when you die and enter the kingdom of heaven or whatever), you come to realize that these priests are talking shit.

Anyways i personally am mostly agnostic, tho obv catholic raising has an influence on my thought processes, not gonna lie. But like, nothing I've ever believed lined up with catholicism's teachings lol bc they were so wildly seperated from what we're told are the words of Jesus

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

Scarlett and the Professor - date night

[continued from here]  [NSFW material under the cut] 

moodboard created by @strangelock221b 💜💙💜

Something seemed to have changed between them. Between them, or about him. Hennessy had taken her relentlessly back in his office, like the glorious sea storm that he is. Scarlett had been craving that all week, craving him like an addict for a fix. Optimism was her natural condition, but as the days had dwindled towards the weekend, doubt had plagued her. Now her faith was more than restored. 

And Hennessy had been exceptionally kind with her, once their shared heat had found its fruition—going so far as to ask if he had hurt her in his urgency to have her. Helping her to set her clothes to right, offering her the use of the small, private bathroom adjacent to his office so that she could clean up before she headed off to her next class. And when she had done so, he had seen her to his door, and in a warm, smooth tone that had felt to her as one of true affection, proposed that they have dinner together that evening.

Scarlett had blinked in momentary disbelief, and Hennessy had grinned in unabashed amusement, taking her befuddled silence for consent. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00, love,” he instructed her, chucking her lightly beneath her chin, “And you should pack what you need for the weekend.” The honest warmth and fondness in his sea blue gaze had her heart aflutter, and though she hadn’t been able to muster a cogent reply, he continued, “I don’t plan to monopolize all your time, little lamb—after all, I wouldn’t want your studies to suffer. So do bring whatever things you need to keep up with your classes.”

“Of…of course,” she finally managed, memorizing the extraordinary softness in his expression, wondering just where this gentler version of Hennessy had come from. And how she had somehow become the lucky recipient. Scarlett nodded, smiling up at him guilelessly, “I’ll be ready and…and waiting, my jo…”

She might have said a few words more, but Hennessy had tilted her face close to his, his voice grown low and a little rough. “Of course you will, my jo,” he concluded, before brushing his lips upon hers, “I would expect no less.”

                        __________________________________

Scarlett had felt surprisingly nervous while she waited for Hennessy on the bench outside the entrance to her building. As nervous as on the evening of the first formal dance that Mam had finally allowed her to attend--and only because it was to be strictly chaperoned by the Felician Sisters who ran the prep school where Scarlett boarded. Her nerves hadn’t been on account of the boys that would be there; she had already kissed--and wee bits more--a fine array of farmer and fisher boys in her home village, most of whom had aspired to reap her innocence as well. No, on that night Scarlett had been nervous about the dancing. Her first in front of friends and the boys that the Sisters had arranged to participate in the festivities, from an all-boy prep school some fifty miles away. 

Scarlett had weathered that experience well. Her dance card--an antiquated practice that the nuns had insisted upon--had been quickly filled, and by the end of the night, she had glowed with the confidence gained from twirling her way through too many dances to number, with the numerous boys who had shamelessly flattered her and asked repeatedly for kisses. Which she had rightly denied as instructed by her teachers, though there had been several she would’ve liked to snog if the Sisters hadn’t been watching their charges like hawks their helpless prey. Indeed, there had been a few intrepid young men who had dared to cop a feel as they danced her away from prying eyes--and Scarlett hadn’t been inclined in the least to protest such familiarities. 

Even then, she had known--had seen with the foresight of her ancient Selkie ancestresses--that these mere boys were just for experience. That even those brief affairs she’d engaged in--wherein she had learned the first blush of Love, as well as the green and youthful heartbreak that inevitably followed--were simply preparation for something far more sacred to come. That sometime in the future, with the full bloom of her womanhood, would come such a Man as she had never known or even fantasized about. He would be no stalwart prince come along to rescue her from her backward village life (and a mother who sought to squelch any romantic inclinations that Scarlett bore). He would be a mystery, with the taste of the Sea about him in everything he did; he would take her like a tempest, unsettle her placid, sheltered life, and steal her heart without so much as trying. This Man would not bring her poetry as so many girls her age longed for, but passion like a fire that burned and cleansed and husked her out, only to fill her again and again with ecstasy of body and of heart.

Thus, Scarlett had decided some time ago that she would save herself as best she could for the lover her blood insisted walked the world far from her home shores. Not because Mam insisted that’s what good Catholic girls must do--but because she knew her greatest treasure was her heart, and only he that stirred her heart to a woman’s full desire, would be the one she lay with first.

As though summoned by that very thought, the man who had fulfilled her youthful expectations took the turn into the semi-circular driveway so sharply that loose gravel sprayed from beneath his roadster’s tires. Scarlett smiled to herself, recalling his penchant for rather reckless driving—and that somehow, she had already begun to feel safe as his passenger. Hennessy was as punctual as ever—she had learned early on that she could set her watch by him—and he pulled in front of her with a sudden stop. He tugged his sunglasses low enough on his nose to show himself giving her a thorough looking over and then indulged in a loud wolf whistle. “Scarlett,” he grinned, rising from his seat, “You’re a knockout!”

Scarlett had expected such a response from him. The dress was a souvenir of sorts, from her visit to Paris. It was unlike any she had owned then (and few which she owned now), daring and sexy, and had sat untouched in her wardrobe for years with the tags still attached. Awaiting the time that she grew the courage enough to wear it in public. ‘Twas a crepe de chine of pale, iridescent grey, which draped her curves with lovingly sinful attention. A dress that in the moment she had spied it the shoppe window, seemed designed primarily for temptation. When she had donned it this evening, Scarlett felt that she had been destined to wear if for Hennessy. She shrugged at his exclamation, and answered coyly, “You mean the dress? Only the best…or go without, I suppose.”

He had tucked his shades in the breast pocket of his dress jacket as he exited the car, and then popped open the boot before he came to stand before her. “With or without, darling, it’s all you. But as we need to be well behaved—at least through dessert—we’ll have to save without for later.” Hennessy flashed her a wink and then grabbed her overnight bag and her rucksack, which contained her art supplies. Along with a few choice ingredients which she had noticed his pantry had been lacking; Scarlett hoped to impress her lover with another special breakfast in the morning—unless he left her too sinfully exhausted to even think of cooking.

Hennessy stowed her bags, and then opened the passenger door, ushering Scarlett to her seat with a gentle hand on the small of her back. She noted an extra spring in step and a lightness in his tone that had her speculating that he was looking forward to the hours ahead as much as she was. In diametric opposition to the last time his car was parked in this exact spot. As she had readied herself for the evening, Scarlett had strictly maintained that the evening was not to be an actual date—not in the truest sense of the word, given Hennessy’s nature. Now, and suddenly, she was daring to think it might be exactly so.

                            _______________________________

Hennessy squired her to a posh restaurant tucked in an exclusive resort complex, bordering the sea’s edge. He had ensured their table was on the covered patio that overlooked the water, sure witness to the soothing, rhythmic lap of the waves against the wooden pilings beneath. They watched the fiery orange disk of the sun sink into the dark ocean waves on the horizon as they waited for the first round of drinks to arrive, and once he’d ascertained what Scarlett wanted for dinner, he smoothly ordered for them both.

He guided their conversation smoothly, too. Thoughtfully asking how her studies were going and how she was managing the major art project she had told him about the weekend before. And even dropping a few hints about how Scarlett might proceed with the paper for his class. Hennessy leaned a little closer to confide in a soft, benevolent tone, “I know you won’t disappoint me, Scarlett. To be honest, you’re one of my top students this term. Across all my classes in fact.” She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, but decided not to tell him that if she was excelling, it was because she had wanted to prove herself to him from the very first class. The day that he had stated unequivocally that A’s were very few and very far between, for he set a much higher standard than most students would find with their other classes. Already caught in the charm of his manner and good looks, she had vowed then and there to be just that exception.

His softly piercing eyes and his quirk of a smile spoke with pure sincerity, and his compliment was entirely unexpected, leaving her at a true loss as to how to reply. He took her hand, his fingers cool but sure as he wove them through hers, “You make me want to tempt you, my dear…”

He let that profession linger between them, making her breathless—surely as he intended--until she answered quietly. “You tempt me every moment that I’m…” she admitted shamelessly, “…that I’m in your presence. Without really trying.”

Hennessy laughed heartily, and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Scarlett, you are a constant delight!” He grinned and added, “But I already know that you’d resist this temptation far too easily for my ego not to feel it.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Professor,” she insisted, wide-eyed and warmed by his humorous regard.

“Trust me, darling. Should I try to persuade you to take up Marine Biology as your major, I know I’d fail.” He polished off his classic Manhattan, then added, “You have the talent, perception, and sensibility of a true Artist, Scarlett. And I wouldn’t want to see you squander those gifts for even a moment.”

Where, by all that’s holy, is this coming from, she wondered. He already owns my heart, without any need to flatter me so. Scarlett swiftly determined her course; take his praise with a healthy dose of skepticism. For she had learned all too well that Hennessy could be as changeable as the Sea he loved—subject to the fury of a sudden storm front. Unpredictable as the wind whipped waves, or the hot and cold currents that flowed unknown, beneath the surface.

                          _________________________________

Hennessy had suggested dessert, but as Scarlett had been unable to finish her generous portion of dinner, he had to have known that she would decline. Plus, he had gotten cozier as their evening passed, free in touching her both above and below the table, and as full dark descended around them, she felt no need to play shy or unwilling to entertain his advances.

By torchlight and starlight, his eyes gleamed with growing desire, and the wine she had consumed made her as pliable as he must’ve hoped her to be. Scarlett giggled at Hennessy’s naughty jests, growing warmer and warmer with the need he stoked in her belly and loins. Her nipples instantly pebbled when he brushed his fingers along the curve of her breast, a sight clearly revealed through the silky material of her boldly backless dress. He shot her a satisfied smirk upon seeing that, and was only interrupted from continuing his slow seduction by the waiter coming to refill their water goblets. Undaunted, Hennessy pulled her chair closer and moved in to kiss her neck, humming against her skin, “I plan to devour you once I get you out of here, little lamb. I hope you know there’s no escaping it.”

“Ohhhhh, yes, my jo,” she practically purred, “I dream of you doing that, and more. So much more.”

As they waited for the check, he made his most wicked public advance yet, sliding his hand from where it rested on her knee, up beneath her dress and slowly insinuated it into the apex of her thighs. Stroking his fore and middle fingers along her damp knickers, sparking her need for a deeper, fuller exploration. “Now there’s my pretty little lass,” he growled, “Ready to be tasted. Aching to be pleased.”

Scarlett moaned softly, squirming into his touch. Very grateful that most of the tables nearby had already emptied, else there would be witnesses to her unseemly behavior. Grateful too, for the cool breeze coming off the water, caressing her exposed and feverish skin. For Hennessy was a beautiful, beguiling devil, making her blood run hot as only he ever had.

She shocked herself by lowering her right hand to rest her palm on the back of his hand, encouraging him to play with her well. His eyes flared in an equal portion of surprise as he wet his sensuous lips. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, strengthening his strokes, “The good girl willingly becomes complicit in sin.”

“Yes…yes,” Scarlett panted, her eyes fluttering shut as she was enmeshed in his iniquitous spell, “But only the beautiful sins, my jo…and only with you…”

“Christ…we need to get outta here, now.” Scarlett could feel his impatience growing, as much as hear it in his voice. “Where is that goddamn waiter with the goddamn check!” Without any warning, Hennessy pulled his hand away, so that she opened her eyes to find that he had risen from his seat and had yanked the wallet from his pocket. Still dazed—and longing for the natural resolution to the need he had stirred her to—she watched him drop a wad of cash onto the table. “That’s a good bit more than he deserves for keeping us waiting like this. But I don’t intend to linger here just to get my change back.”

He pulled out her chair and prompted her to stand, brusque in commanding her, “Come along, Scarlett.” Then grabbed her hand a little roughly, leading her from the dining room towards the main entrance, only stopping when they reached the unattended cloakroom. Hennessy popped his head through the wide opening, softening his tone in case someone was actually somewhere inside. “Hullo- is anybody home? Hulloooooo?”

As no answer came—Scarlett guessed the restaurant only employed the coat check during inclement weather or during rare drops in temperature—he chuckled smugly, “As I expected. We should have the place to ourselves, little lamb.” Without further explanation, Hennessy hoisted her onto the window ledge. She gave a little ‘ooomf’ of surprise, but understanding his intention, she swiveled to hang her legs over the other side and hopped down. And then flicked on the bank of three light switches to the right of the window, eventually turning two of them off again; the lower level of light would be more than enough for their needs.

Meanwhile, Hennessy had nearly vaulted over the ledge and closed the wooden shutters, securing them with the center latch. “Necessity is the mother of invention, eh?” he grinned, pulling Scarlett deeper into the dimly lit recesses. He glanced about briefly, locating a pile of fresh tablecloths stacked in one corner, and used them to fashion enough of a cushion to suit his purpose, “Doesn’t this make a cozy little table for two…” Then he bowed at the waist and gave a sweep of his arm, raising a single brow as he reminded her, “I promised to devour you, didn’t I?” Hennessy loosened his tie and stripped off his jacket, tossing it onto the unused cloths left in the pile and then pulled her against his chest. His cool, right hand splayed across the center of her bare back had Scarlett humming deep in her throat, even as he seized her mouth with a deep, searing kiss. Breathing heavily when he relinquished her lips, before laying her down, “And you know damn well I’m a man of my word.”

Scarlett could nearly taste the desire burning between them as Hennessy leaned over her, his eyes grown too dark to read. Despite his obvious fervor, he hesitated a bit—long enough to ask if she was comfortable; such a little thing, but of great import to her heart. It proved to be his last moment of temperance throughout the interlude.

Hennessy shot her his handsome, wolfish smile, then darted down to steal both her breath and her reason, sweeping his tongue into her mouth while fondling her breast through the thin material of her dress. Scarlett laid one hand on his cheek, the other in his hair, and when he let the kiss dissolve, it was so he could coast hungry kisses across her check and onto her throat. Beginning to mark her heated flesh, as he so often did–and as Scarlett had learned to crave. She arched up to meet his mouth and laid her arms above her head, ceding herself to his hunger. His need. And to whatever else he willed.

“Mmmmm…” he hummed, trailing his lips from the hollow of her throat down the center of her chest, then atop the flimsy fabric to take one stiffened peak between his teeth and flick the tip of his tongue against it, while he tweaked the other between his fingers. Roughly. Greedily--though the cool, smooth silk covering her breasts softened the sting. When Hennessy drew her into his mouth, sucking hard, it felt so damn good that Scarlett hadn’t a care that he was spoiling the silk, for her long-prized frock had at last served its purpose.

Ah, but Hennessy still had his promise to keep; still nuzzling her through the cloth, he used both hands to rake her dress up past her hips, revealing a pretty pair of tap pants fringed with white lace on the silk which matched her dress. Scarlett shifted just enough to urge him on, and he brushed his mouth along the waistband, humming so deeply that she could feel his throat’s vibration on her skin. “Oh. Trespass. Sweetly. Urged.”

Scarlett sighed at his unexpected poetry, wondering that he should remember the romance of it while decrying Romance at every turn. As Hennessy tucked his fingertips beneath the band, she raised her hips enough to make it easier for him to slide her knickers down, and off her legs. Softly answering him, her heart intent with her reply, “Mmmmmm…yes…’give me my sin again’…darling, please…”

“Christ Scarlett,” he exclaimed, parting her legs and licking his full, luscious lips, “You make every sin I want to commit with you…commit upon you…somehow…sacred.” Then he was dropping his face between her thighs to taste her, slithering his tongue inside her wet folds, using his knowing fingers to set her secret flesh aflame.

Scarlett bent her knees and let her legs fall further apart, cooing his name as he savored her and played with her. Summoned that exquisite tension which made her want to vow that no other man ever would. She twisted the tablecloth beneath her in her hands, grinding herself against his beautiful mouth, and when he finally slid his tongue inside her, she cried out ‘oh fuck’ just as she felt herself give in to the pure bliss of the man she loved making her cum. Flooding his mouth with her essence. Seeing stars behind eyes squeezed shut at the intensity of her orgasm.

As those divine spasms subsided and her body relaxed, she looked down to find him watching her avidly, his lips and chin glossy with the proof of her pleasure. “Sweet fuck, baby…I’ve been missing that more than I care to admit…” Hennessy kneeled upright between her legs, breathing hard in anticipation. “But now it’s my turn,” he told her, flaring his eyes as he unzipped his trousers and pushed them and his briefs nearly down to his knees.

And how I’ve missed you, she thought, eyeing his engorged prick as it sprang forth, aching to have him fill her at once; every thick, hard inch of you, darling. He chuckled wickedly as Scarlett stared at it, so that she wondered–not for the first time since their beginning–if he had read her mind. If so, he must know how deeply lost in him she had become. Nearly enough to consider bartering her soul so that he would always want her–not only as lover and plaything, but also as a companion to the heart that he insisted was untouchable.

She raised her eyes to his and read his intention only moments before he grabbed her bottom to lift her pelvis up, closer to him, His fingers digging firmly into her flesh, in a seemingly unbreakable grip as he parted her cheeks enough to make her gasp. Hennessy nodded smugly, a growl of satisfaction resonating in his chest. “Eyes on mine, little lamb,” he directed her, “I want you focused on them while I fuck you.”

Scarlett nodded her ascent, though she wasn’t sure how long she could manage it. And somehow he knew that as well. “Just do your best, my sweet. I fully expect you won’t be able to last ‘til I finish–but I relish your obedience,” he told her, then added, “Just as I know you crave obeying me. Isn’t this so?”

She nodded more vigorously, and his smile looked absolutely victorious while he teased the leaking head of his cock against her opening. Hennessy grunted as he finally penetrated her, and she gave another gasp as he drove himself deep into her slick walls. He set a torturously slow pace, grunting hard with each full thrust, lingering to grind himself into her depths, then hissing softly through gritted teeth as he drew back. “Ahhhhhh, there’s my good girl…mmmmmm, my sweet lambkin…my beautiful, obedient Scarlett…”

Acclimations which she treasured in the midst of his lust, and which made her want to proclaim the truth of her affection for him–while knowing that Hennessy would disdain her forbidden sentiment. Instead, Scarlett concentrated on his dark, ever-compelling eyes, which so often seemed to see her truths without her speaking a word.

His rhythm was quickening as he built towards his climax, and soon he draped her left leg around his waist to free up his right hand. She smiled up at him dreamily, recognizing that he had done so to be able to touch her. To see to her satisfaction even as he pursued his own. God save me, but I love you, her mind shouted, unafraid if he should read that thought. If only you’d let me tell you, my jo! Once his thumb found her clit, once it began to run unceasing circles upon that swollen bundle of nerves, Scarlett closed her eyes, unable to obey his edit any longer.

Her mouth fell open, heedless of the sounds rising out of her. Anyone passing the shuttered room would know there was a woman inside being shagged roundly. Vaguely, she wondered if Hennessy had bothered to make sure the narrow side door was locked, to prevent discovery–not that she would want him to stop at this point, even if they had an audience. Scarlett was arching her hips up to meet each hard pump, and longing to touch him, but their position would not allow for her to reach him. Precisely as he wants it to be, she rued, it’s part of his need for control–and I can’t fault him for it. It matches the need I have to obey, which he had repeatedly pointed out. She stretched one arm toward him anyway, for if she could touch him, she’d lay her hand atop his as he fingered her to her climax.

Hennessy chuckled indulgently, “Easy now, love. I’ve got you.” He squeezed her cheek in his iron grip. “Cum for me like a good girl, Scarlett,” he panted, ”And afterwards, you can touch me all you want…”

She whimpered and lolled her head to the side, slipping off of the makeshift pillow he had crafted for her, tightening her muscles around him, desperate to feel his release in time with her own. “Ahhhh, fuck, baby…you feel so goddamn good,” he groaned, thrusting into her with the full force of his body, “Can’t stop it…can’t stop it nowwww…”

His body went rigid, except where they were connected, as his hot spend exploded into her, and Scarlett cried out as her body gave over to an ecstasy equal to his. They were bound together at the peak of pleasure, her walls spasming around him, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her. Time seemed to be suspended, while each descended from their highs, and only the sensation of Hennessy withdrawing from her and then lowering her to lay flat, brought her back to awareness. His neck, cheeks and even his ears were flushed with color, and he looked groggy and beautifully spent, though he had the presence of mind to tuck himself back inside his briefs before zipping up his trousers, and then flopping down beside her. Trembling from the ferocity of her orgasm, Scarlett immediately turned into him and he pulled her to his chest.

Hennessy kissed the crown of her head, waiting to speak until her tremors had ceased. “Are you alright, little lamb,” he husked against her hair, “As we may be pushing our luck if we stay here much longer.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, but really wished they could stay a while and let their bodies cool and settle, sharing quiet kisses and whispered endearments. “Whatever you think best, my jo…”

“Can you walk yet,” he chortled, smoothing his hand over her mussed hair, “Or shall I carry my sweet lass from our…” Again, he laughed softly, seeking the exact phrase he needed, “…den of iniquity?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, a mite petulantly at his implication, “No worse for wear, in fact.”

“Of course you are, darling. I was only teasing.” Still, he stood up first and offered his hand to help her up, surprising her when he pulled her to him for a loving kiss. Hennessy rolled the soiled tablecloths into a bundle, and tossed it in the corner, winking at her impudently, “And now, no one will be the wiser.” He retrieved his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, covering the fresh love bites he’d given her and the stained bodice of her dress, and last of all, stuffed her knickers into his jacket pocket.

“Come along now, love,” he told her, taking her by the hand before jiggling the doorknob and discovering it had been unlocked the whole while. He opened the door enough to peek both ways in the hall outside, and with no ceremony (and a terribly cheeky grin) pulled Scarlett along with him.

Once they hit the pavement outside, Hennessy stopped and inhaled a deep breath of the ocean breeze. Scarlett watched, entranced by the confidence and pure, masculine beauty of his profile by starlight, wondering what other surprises he had in store for her the next two days. And for a third time this night, he looked at her as though he knew the train of her thoughts. “There will be adventures ahead for us, my bonnie lass,” he promised in an uncanny imitation of her brogue, “You have my word. But isn’t the anticipation just…glorious?”

Scarlett gave him an honest, demure smile, her agreement to and consent for whatever lay ahead implicit when she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm–readily allowing her beloved jo to lead her wherever he willed.

                  ________________________________

                            _______________________

Please click the link above the moodboard if you missed the last installment!

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[smeliescurvy]

Abandos are so fun

Yorktown Memorial Hospital in Texas was built in 1951 and was run by the Felician Sisters of The Roman Catholic Church. It closed its doors as a hospital in 1986, when it became a drug rehab facility until its total decommission in 1992. Today the building is private property, but is available for tours. It is reported to be highly active and very haunted.

[silvestromedia]

The Felician Lantern Podcast

[goalhofer]

Felician Sisters Convent in Enfield, Connecticut.