#tw; vows of celibacy

[terrence-silver]

Can you please do Terry (or twig) losing his v card to beloved 💌

Okay, but lets make a little funnier and it's this era of Terry;

And him just flat out lying he's a virgin. He's lying. His justification and explanation for his lack of action is (and I'm making this up as I go along and so is he) that deliberate celibacy and sexual ascetism is good in preserving high levels of chi and chakra energy, that witholding from physical pleasures strenghtens the body's core and makes a person a better, more disciplined fighter due to surpressed aggression and he knows this for a fact, because after learning Tang Soo Do under his Master in Korea and returning from Vietnam, he's also travelled all over Asia and observed the Shaolin monks do it. Yes. Shaolin monks. He strived to emulate the best of the best since. Isn't every man's goal in life to be the next Bodhidharma incarnate?

Might even gift you with a book on the subject.

You know, for references and sources.

You could land yourself with a tome called The Private Lives Inside the Shǎolínsì.

It takes all the willpower in the world not to royally chortle at that one even as he says it. So, he's well into his thirties or even early fourties, it's the 80's, and yes, he's a virgin by choice. Of course, again, he's lying and making things up for the fun of it. Mainly to gage your reaction. See how you'll treat him for it. How you'll act. What you'll do. If you'll be surprised. Disappointed. What your opinions on the matter even are. If you'll even like him after that. If you'll believe him because the man isn't a fool and he's aware of what he looks like and the effect he tends to have on people. There's no particular gender or age limit to virgnity but he also knows he isn't the usual poster child for purity. Maybe it'll add to his mystique in your eyes. Maybe you'll try to dissuade him from maintaing such a strict standard of living and he can act all coy and hard to get about it. Maybe you'll admire him for it and he'll pretend to be humble. He doesn't know, but he wants to discover because it holds so many possibilities and it is also so damn amusing, this little social experiment, and lets admit; the man's very much a troll. Just the entertainment value of it turns him on, and there's always the chance of him roleplaying being despoiled and being on the recieveing end of it without you knowing it is all pretense. Of course he's not a virgin, though. Far from it. Which makes this whole thing even more schemey, sinister and juvenile. He's quite possibly ludicrousily experienced and has apetites to match for every vice under the sun and he's, pardon my language, bullshitting you, for lack of the better word, but does it so convincingly and sweetly one can never tell. Could even be a test he poses for himself; to see what type of misiformantion he can sell to people and get away with.

How well he can act certain things out.

Not to mention how much he wants to dangle himself in front of you like the forbidden fruit you can't have because of his, ahem, convictions and beliefs. Convictions and beliefs he doesn't even really have. Quite the contrary. The handomest man you've ever met also being sexually celibate? He wants you to explode with desire and frustration and him having the last laugh.

But, Terry Silver is definitely the type of man who would land himself in bed with you, after much back and forth and pretending celibacy goes hand in hand with his particular style of martial arts, and believably pretend not to know what to do once he gets to that very same bed. Worse (or better) yet. Doing something like this isn't nessecarily a sign of his distaste for a person. Could very much like you and still play a prank on you.

[acetier]

Does torin have any backstory from before he was resurrected by grace? Possibly pertaining to his class as a confessor?

He does! Lore dump below the cut:

Torin was born outside of the Lands Between. His parents died when he was young, so he was taken in by the church and raised on the teachings of the Two Fingers. He manages to live a decent life into young adulthood before he's seriously wounded when the church is raided by enemies of the Two Fingers and the Golden Order. Although the initial wound doesn't kill him, he lingers painfully for days before finally succumbing to infection. He's resurrected by grace and the church immediately begins training him to be a confessor. After a few years in training, the church sends him to the Lands Between to hunt down those who have strayed from grace.

Nowadays, he prefers not to speak of his old life as his faith in the Golden Order and the Two Fingers has become a bitter memory.

bonus torin before The Fuckening:

[heartfullofleeches]

Nymph Idol

Yan Church + "Incubus" Priest/Cult Reader [18+ Mdni]

Tw/Tags Religious Themes/Slight Trauma, implied underage drinking and dubious activities as a result (All parties are 18/19), Reader is G.N but mentioned to have a penis in some parts and is called "Mister" once. Reader (obviously) has no set features, but they do have a birthmark.

Faith had always been a unwavering staple in your life.

Raised by the people of your procreators' church; you were versed in literature beyond levels for those your age so you had voice to praise your Lord. Head of the youth choir, and the one chosen to begin prayer at dinner as you got older. Early on, the seeds of your influence on others sprouted during the primary years of your innocence. Walking into class that chilly winter morn, a classmate greeted you at the door, declaring their love to you with a letter in hand. They wanted to be the first, as your heart may have been lost somewhere in the clutter on your desk. Valentine's day - the day when those playground crushes could be seen as more and those holding passing stares could finally look you in the eye. A moment before, you never realized you had so many admirers. What could it have been that made so many look your way? You'd never know, not in this school - as once your parents found the notes in your bag you were shipped straight off to a school of the faith. And thus the cycle repeated.

For you, life was pretty much the same after the change. Go to school, study, help out the surrounding community as best you could. Outside of the little bubble you made for yourself, yet another flock of worshippers came to plate. They saw you as the silent, dedicated and hard working type - enamored by every word that came from your mouth. Even rejection fueled their desire as you let each person down with respectful and caring approach. They invited you to parties and hangouts, and while you never touched a drop of whatever they gave you - you agreed every time. Out in the real world, you came to the conclusion you were still that same sheltered child from years back. You'd neither kissed nor felt first love like those around you and in films you saw. You longed for the freedom of you, but the life of a priest was chosen for you before you were even born, and you had taken the vow of celibacy to heart.

You achieved your first taste of freedom at the end of highschool. To celebrate the graduating class, a nature retreat was scheduled. Seated between two of the most determined of your suitors - you could already tell this trip would change you for better or worse. Had the seats not been assigned, it would have been another hour before the bus took off with everyone dragging you around. These two were sure to win you in the end with their records and authority over their peers. One had been arrested and agreed to go to your school if the charges were dropped, the other forced with no benefit on their part - until they met you. Together, the pair grew close over their shared hatred of their environment, and become inseparable from their shared intrigued in you. When no one would look their way, you meet them with a smile whenever your paths crossed. So cute - just like an angel. The entire ride there, neither party removed their hand from your thigh.

"Wow, Y/n - your legs are really nice... You brought shorts with you right?"

"If you didn't, we have something you can put on."

The heat was instantaneous. Alone on a hot bus, your head swam from their gentle touches and praise. Noting the way you squirmed in your seat and squeezed the hem of your shirt over the source of your discomfort, they couldn't ignore you any longer. They were ready to suck you off right then and there under the cover of a blanket and let the whole class hear you sing. Alas, their fun was temporarily delayed by the arrival at your destination. You were the first off the bus with an express trip to the bathroom. Getting away from those two wasn't going to be as easy as you thought as they were your bunkmates.

Your only bunkmates.

Things started off harmlessly enough. Down at the lake, one would splash water at your shirt while the other whined that their bottoms were too lose. They'd complain about you wearing a shirt in the water, but you excused yourself due to the strange birthmark on your chest. They asked you to pick their outfits for the day, and snuck in your bed at night for nothing more than your warmth. As your days decreased, so went their subtlety. They'd stand in front of you in lines with the sole purpose of rubbing their ass against your crotch; their partner getting their share when you finally sat down and they sat in your lap. They'd walk around the cabin in nothing else but their underwear saying something about losing the towel tucked under your bed. When sleeping with you, one moaned so sweetly in your ear as their legs tangled with yours. Of all the nights they haunted your dreams, that was the first you woke with stained shorts.

Overtime you suspected they were finally giving up. They wore modest clothing, and you hardly ever saw them outside of activities or meals. You became alone due to them always sneaking out and in that solitude you committed acts of self pleasure you'd never done before. Your untaught hands felt like they'd been graced by touch of an angel as you chased your long awaited high - shooting ropes into the dainty fabric left under your pillow. The shame you beared for using their underwear mixed so perfectly into the pleasure that your vision went white as you came a second time. It wasn't long till the thing was soaked with so much of your release there wasn't any where for it to go, but your damp things. They left them there for that purpose, so it was okay - right? You'd rinse them and hand them to dry before anyone came back. It was one mistake that you could easily come back from.

"Well, well, well-"

Shit.

"The wait was longer than I'd like, but the results definitely make up for it. Come outside, "Mister Priest". We've been listening to you since you started and you're even cuter than I imagined. We'll treat you right."

You wanted to come up with an excuse or to at least be given the opportunity to clean up, but your mind was anywhere but your head at this point. They helped you fresh up partly by tongue-cleaning your navel and thighs with their tongue before leading you outside into the thick forest where their companion was waiting by the fire they'd built. They had two water bottles in their hands. One clear, and the other filled halfway with a dark liquid. The pair had stopped drinking for a while so your first kiss didn't taste like whiskey, but after both had explored the reigns of your mouth with their tongue it was back to gunning the alcohol. You drank a little too, or rather it was siphoned down your throat as they took turns spitting it in your mouth between kisses.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. You were talking about... something, but soon enough your cock was stuffed down one of their throats and all conversation was lost - your lifelong vows tarnished in one, sin-filled eve. Come morning, you woke with their numbers in your phone and their nude bodies against yours. Your head was killing you. Some water, and some gentle reassurance by your new lovers soothe the ache, and woke you to the world you now lived in. Drinking, having sex- What would they think? The people back home.... None of the people in your church did anything like this in their youth - as far as they'd tell. What were you supposed to do now?

"Baby...Relax. There's no harm in a little indulgence every now and then. You're still that same angel in our eyes. Horns just fit you a little better."

They.. They were right. You did have horns - presented in the lustful urges shunned and magnified by your upbringing. It wasn't you - it was a demon. That mark proved it. An insatiable beast. Your body was sensitive from the night prior yet you wanted more. To taste the flesh of anyone willing to give it to you. Slipping back into the covers - those believes were etched into your heart as you guided their heads down to the heat of your lust, mouths ready to please their new lord.

Life moved on after that. The goodbyes you shared with your lovers were more tearful than the nights you choked them half to unconscious only to lick their tears as they'd instructed. You saw each other on occasion, but moving to different parts of the country with no way to make visits permanent at the time shorted your hours together. When college began, they assured you their hearts would belong to you, and if you decided to seek out others they'd be fine with it. Their permission was not needed, but a nice gesture as you had already been scouting out your new playmate. The believes of the supernatural were strong in the new community, but faith prevailed. Show them a little proof and they'll take it that extra mile. Luckily for you, you had been born with all the evidence you needed.

"I try not to show this to everyone, but I know I can trust you now. I know you probably won't believe me, but it's the only excuse I have."

Taking off your shirt, their eyes always shoot to that birthmark on your chest, nestled on the skin of the cage shielding your heart. Some have described it as charred wings, others a crown of thorns. When you were in that stage of curiosity about the world around you, you always wondered what a hypothetical partner would think of it. Your first thoughts were fear or disgust, but the only thing you've ever seen on their faces is pure awe and need.

"I...was cursed by a demon at birth. My faith will always remain in the hands of God, but the effects of the devil's influence are relentless. I'm not strong enough to take care of it on my own... Will you help me?"

"..y-yes!"

With your charms, more eyes were drawn your way. Your lies kept your image clean. Day by day, it became easier for you to sneak your way in the beds and hearts of your peers. While your end goals were far from the realm of innocence, you still cared for this people and their well-being. It's what kept them crawling back -- following you after you graduated.

In priesthood, dozens came from all counters and backgrounds to see you in your prime. Many were old faces - awaiting the day you'd open your arms to them once more. If we're being honest here you've probably seen some of them during the weeks before. You never lied about your involvement with others, and if someone were to grow more jealous than you'd like them to be... they were taking care of before you had the chance to block them and move on. You still blocked them anyway, and messages from unfamiliar numbers claiming to be their families were deleted before you even knew about them.

In the eyes of your flock, you could do no wrong. An innocent member of the church, and a solider of their lord in need of their aid. Most have already abandoned their loyalty to that figure - use its name to raise your own. They whisper to those in the surrounding area about an idol that can teach them the true freedoms of life and erase loneliness from their hearts for the rest of their days. You're sure to give those brave and willing enough a private sermon they're sure to never forget. You finish every public prayer with a straight face and smile as you're serviced by your most loyal followers beneath the podium and your robes. A quick look underneath and you'll find whoever brought you to climax sharing the fruits of their labor with their neighbor through a sloppy kiss, savouring all you have to give. It took quite a while for you to detach your facial expression and sounds from such pleasure, but you've had years of practice by now. Your faithful pets and servants attempt to break that wall with every stroke and curve of their tongues fingers, or bodies - and you're more than welcome to let them try.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

What piece of flesh do you think each Divine Warrior (other than Irene and Shad) sacrificed for godhood?

I have some guesses but I feel like you, the cannibal coniseur, have a better understanding.

Menphia - Her tail, as a meif'wa it is both her pride and joy and something used to keep balance.

Enki - His left ring finger. Magick is all in the hands so removing a finger is the same way as losing a wand. Can possibly limit control?

Esmund - At a loss, though maybe simply losing his humanity to become a God is enough for him? Maybe one of his kidneys.

TW, cannibalism. also, castration.

it really depends on WHO becomes patron of their godhood. I have answers for Shad and Irene, but not so much for gods outside of them two. it doesn't just depend on the ascending, but also their patron. And there are other gods.

With Irene as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail does work very well. It's an incredibly important aspect of how Mei'fwa move, and a big part of their identity. As a warrior, menphia would rely a lot on movement, and Irene would love to just... make that a little harder for her.

Enki, I think something a little more personal. Something that still impacts his magic, but is slightly more... invasive. Some brain matter, perhaps? A human can survive with only one hemisphere of their brain, and even learn to exist the exact same way they did before... but Irene would certainly love to watch him try and adjust to missing such a large part of his hippocampus.

Esmund, Loss of humanity, hm? Irene is a sucker for a metaphor. Whilst she isn't as centred on heart-consumption as Avra, why not indulge in a little bit of poetics? The Protector, who desires to retain his humanity, being literally heartless? That's amusing. maybe not my most creative idea, but... hm.

With Shad as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail thing probably wouldn't work. Shad is very centred on wanting to be able to exist as he is, he wouldn't go ahead and remove a notable non-human trait from someone. If she sacrifices it with Shad as her patron, that was a self-made decision. Shad also wouldn't eat her eyes, though, due to... meif'wa cat eyes and all. He'd settle for a thumb, perhaps. Giving up her ability to punch or hold a weapon in one hand, so that she may have a better ability to do as such in the other.

Enki, going along with the finger trend, yeah, he'd be the one to take Enki's finger. Shad is not overly cruel with his sacrifices, but he does know they need to have an impact. He prefers extremities to internal guts, when it comes to his friends at least.

Esmund, wouldn't have Shad as his patron, idk what to tell you. They don't mesh well, for a number of reasons, and Irene would prefer to keep Esmund. Who better to patron the Protector than the faux-sweet child-murderer? so... nothing.

HOWEVER--

(since i have Xavier in my divine warriors in LR, and he was the original SK)

whilst shad wouldn't Patron Xavier's godhood (considering Xavier being a sort of paladin type, sworn to a god - Irene - but not one himself), he would make a bit of a joke about being the Patron to Xavier's knighthood. He would ensure that the sacrifice would keep in line with a knight's most valuable vow... his vow of celibacy.

[jean-dieu]

For the Romantic Questions!

Raphael: 2, 12, 21, 34

Does your OC remember their first crush? Would they ever admit to it now?

Ok second question about Raphaël's first crush and I want to explore a vague idea I had years ago about it.

Even without a celibacy vow, Raphaël is not the kind of man to think very much about love. As a teenager, he's not very interested in that kind of thing... And he's mostly terrible at recognizing his own feelings. I portray him being somewhat friend with a girl from his neighbourhood. They weren't best friends or anything, far from it, just casual friend, nothing more. But she always treated him right, even before they started to get to know each other, which is... Rare for him. He would start to develop feelings for her, but he knows he's nothing more than a positive acquaintance for her, with her having her own group of friends like a lot of teenagers. Raphaël would never confess to her, fearing a harsh rejection, and knowing they're in fact, not that close. Ultimately, she would starts dating someone else, and he'd just forget about it, thinking love isn't for him anyway.

He would admit it to himself, but telling others about it would be hard. He'd probably tell Sosiel at one point though as he gets more and more comfortable seeking help and reassurance about his complicated relation with love.

What was the worst advice your OC has ever received on the subject of love and relationships?

"If you like someone, just tell them! It's not that hard!" Raphaël's little sister, who means well but doesn't understand how her older brother functions

How does your OC feel about virginity? And their own in particular? Is it something to which they attach moral or spiritual weight? Or is it a meaningless social convention to them? Did (or would) their first lover know about their virginity?

Oh the most difficult question of the bunch. I have so many feelings about this but putting it into words is hard so please be patient with me. Also, TW this one is going to be a bit nsfw and darker than rest, talking about Raphaël's OCD and its impact on his sexuality, so feel free to skip that one.

Raphaël's view on his virginity is complicated.

As usual, Raphaël can't see himself as he sees others. He's not allowed to live the way they do. Not entitled to the same things. They are allowed to love, to have sex. He isn't. First of all, he's terrified of the idea of taking advantage of someone through sex, even abusing them. Raphaël has OCD, and has intrusive thoughts he struggles with, and whenever he thinks about sex, they come in. The problem is that he's in denial about it all, and while any normal person would just think "what a silly thoughts, I'd never do that" he can't help but think "this is exactly what's going to happen" and he has to prevent it by any mean necessary. And of course, he does blame it on his heritage, his blood, and it consolidates his thoughts that he's nothing more than a twisted mortal no better than a fiend. That's the first reason behind his chastity vow.

The second reason is also rooted in his status as a tiefling, as tieflings in general are often said to be thrilling lovers, and he wants to distance himself from any stereoypes as much as possible. Tieflings are thrilling lovers? No, not him! He's not like the other tieflings. He's a good little tiefling, as Woljif would put it.

Then comes Sosiel. He falls in love, and comes eventually their first time.

Breaking his celibacy vow was already hard, and he knew it was just a question of time before his chastity vow would be broken too. They both took it slow, but it still was very hard for Raphaël with how much healing he needed regarding his relation with his own sexuality.

Right after their first time, he broke down in tears, completely overwhelmed with the facts that 1. he actually did it 2. nothing bad happened 3. it was actually quite nice 4. he's allowed to love, to be loved, and to feel pleasure. It didn't startled Sosiel too much; at this point they've been dating for quite a few months, and he already knew the tiefling had a very complicated relationship with sexuality as a whole.

There's still a long way to go for him to heal completely, but he's definitely making progress. Sosiel has been more than helpful, and the cleric has been nothing but very understanding of his lover's issues, always being there for him when he needs to vent or to talk about it all. He's starting to enjoy having a sexual life, and is even starting to come to terms with being a bit ~kinky~ too.

Is it usual for others to develop a crush on your OC? Are they usually oblivious to this? If not then how do they manage such things?

No, Yes, They don't. Raphaël appears cold, distant, and stern beyond belief most of the time, so it's ... Hard to develop a real crush on him. But even if someone does, he'd be so oblivious to it. High wisdom + High perception? Fuck that, he doesn't get it until someone actually confesses to him. Thank GODS Sosiel did because they'd still be staring at each others from afar years post crusade.

I suppose as a Knight-Commander, he does get a bit more attention and he's doomed to have a few people having some kind of celebrity crush on him... Something he absolutely don't understand so his reaction to someone shouting "Raphaël I love you!!!" in a crowd would just be "what" and he would... walk away silently and awkwardly klzejzlksfjlkfq.

[mamomare]

Ultimate Decades Challenge: 1410 - 1420

* TW: This post contains a plotline that includes babies and mothers who died during childbirth.

The end of the decade sees the demise of one of the two starting household lineages - The Cliffords. With the drowning of the child heir, Wymand Clifford, so too dies the last possibility of passing on the family name. Luckily, our main household, the Brookers, were able to produce a single, male heir - Leif - to continue the Brooker legacy. Let's hope our luck continues into the 1420s and that Leif and his bride-to-be are able to see a male heir to adulthood.

Marriages [3] 1413 - Aldous and Hawis Montague 1417 - William and Philomena de Burgh 1419 - Rogan and Adelaide Everett

Births [7] 1410 - Rebecca Beaufort 1414 - Gale Montague 1415 - Eden Montague 1417 - Finnian Montague 1418 - Thomas de Burgh 1419 - Alice Montague, Petrus de Burgh Deaths [9] 1411 - Celestina Brooker (Starvation) 1412 - Ailova Fletcher (Influenza), Genevieve Bigod (the Plague), Mirabel Shaw (Gangrene), Dorothy Shaw (Leprosy) 1416 - Rebecca Beaufort (Influenza) 1417 - Gelle Bennet (Chest infection) 1419 - Philomena de Burgh (Preterm labour complications), Wymand Clifford (Drowned) * Babies that never were [1]: Arne Montague

Family Tree at 1420

Gameplay

Following the death of Celestina Brooker, Lucy Brooker, the widow of Theobald Brooker, decided to move into the main Brooker household. Following her son's decisions to take a vow of celibacy and join the church, she decided to move into the main Brooker farm to help raise the two orphaned children, Leif and Marigold.

This version of the Decades Challenge was created by Morbid Gamer.

[spainkitty]

Rated M for Mechanics Part I

(this part stays M, Part II goes E)

tw: two 30 yr old virgins, awkwardness, fluff, too much fluff, Cullen blushes and we appreciate that in a man, Cullavellan/Cullurana? I wish tumblr mobile had friggin read more, or that it would delete my paragraph spacing!!!

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

Part II

This desk barely budged when she lay back on it, dragging Cullen down with her. His armor was probably scratching the hell out of the wood, and he was pressing down on her a little too heavily, but she didn't care. She was starving, thirsty, aching and desperate under the onslaught of his kisses. It felt different, urgent, like she couldn't get satiated. Her hands couldn't stop moving, digging into his hair, tugging at his fur collar, nails scraping over steel and wishing it wasn't there.

They kept making noises, and somewhere in her head, she thought she should be humiliated by them. But each groan he made, the gasps they shared, even that stupid whimper she let out when he dragged a kiss down her ear, her jaw, pressing teeth and lips to her neck, made her heart beat faster. Her blood run hotter.

She was dizzier than being drunk.

His hands were on her hips, pulling her closer, stroking down her thighs to hitch her up and then--

"Oh." She froze. And then he froze.

She stared up at him, chest heaving against his armor, and blinked. Because he was very obviously pressed against the front of her breeches and that was. Yup.

"You want to have sex."

She said it bluntly, dumbfounded, while the realization ran through her head.

"Maker's breath, I... I should've asked, or... Not at all. Right, of course not," he muttered. His face was so red, it looked burned.

She couldn't help the smirk, bordering on soppishly fond, as she caught his face in her hands. Let the blush of his cheeks warm her palms.

"I was just surprised. It didn't even cross my mind, but it's there now. Give me one second to process?"

"Pro...cess?" Cullen repeated. A truly ridiculous thing happened to his expression, like he was trying to frown and smile at the same time.

Her own smile widened.

"Yes. I've never had sex before, but I get the mechanics of it, as a healer. Wynne did that whole talk when we were apprentices." She waved a hand in the air negligently.

Cullen groaned and his forehead thumped on her collarbone. "The mechanics of it?"

"Yes, exactly. It seemed rather.... messy and uncomfortable theoretically." The sound he let out was pained and quiet. "And Varric's book, I was told by many trustworthy sources, including Varric himself, is a bit improbable."

"You read that?"

"Cassandra likes it."

"She does?" He pushed up on his hands to hover over her, pure shock on his face. Lanil grinned.

"Shush, it's a secret."

He laughed, shoulders shaking and the unease completely gone.

Good.

She traced down his scar, over his smiling mouth, down to his chin. With a finger, she guided his face to meet her gaze directly.

"If it's with you, then I'll like it."

His eyes fluttered shut and she felt his sigh.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that. I haven't... haven't either."

Lanil tilted her head to the side with a confused frown.

"But you didn't make celibacy vows."

"No, I--"

"And you're handsome in that classically Ferelden human way."

"Um, thank you? I think?"

"You've had at least twelve marriage proposals since Halamshiral."

"It's over twenty now and why would I have slept with any of them!? Do you know the obscene offers some of them made?"

Lanil burst out laughing. "No, I don't. Why don't you tell me so we two thirty year old virgins can get ideas?"

"Oh, I have ideas."

Lanil raised an eyebrow at the blush on Cullen's face that was so at odds with the words he said and the smirk he wore. Then, he moved back, wrapping one arm around her waist and lifting her up as he got to his feet.

"That was... smooth. Very smooth," she noted, a little breathlessly, arms already around his shoulders to help hold herself up. "But you can't carry me up the ladder, you know that, right?"

"Lane," he said on a sigh. So exasperated and fond.

She smiled into the next kiss, felt his own, before they sunk into it for real. His free hand stroked up her back, cupped the nape of her neck, and tilted her head back so he could kiss down her throat again. Sucking and biting lightly down the curve of her neck and shoulder. A shudder ran down her spine and she wanted more.

Maybe she'd wanted sex too and didn't even realize it? Is that what the burning low in her belly was this whole time? Why she felt so dizzy and needy the more he kissed her?

There was only one way to find out.

She wriggled away, kissed the frown between his eyebrows, and dropped to her feet.

"I'm going up the ladder. And then you can follow me," she told him, a finger at the middle of his chest to hold him back.

He swallowed thickly. "Right."

She smirked and turned quickly, before she could get distracted again, and headed up with the ease of long practice. There had been a lot of ladders in her life recently. Because she had the chance while Cullen started up after her, Lanil began to snoop. His bed was made too neatly, without a single wrinkle, so either he was anally neat (which was possible), or he never slept there (even more possible). There was a stand for a dress or robes, but she realized a moment later it was for armor. Of course. Despite how neat his bed and personal effects were kept, there was a oddly out of place heap of lumber in the far corner. Lastly, she made her way over to a simple, unadorned wooden chest with only clothes inside when she peeked under the lid.

"What are you doing?" Cullen asked, amused.

She looked over her shoulder to see him taking off a glove, setting it beside the other before reaching for the armor on his forearms. Heat prickled up and down her spine, and she turned away again, hands clasped behind her back.

"Obviously I'm being nosy," she said without an ounce of shame. She picked up the papers scattered on the small table by his bed. Reports. Lists. Notes about the reports and lists. She snorted quietly, set it all aside, and found the book.

A Chant of Light. She flipped through it, noting how supple the leather was, how the edges of the parchment were worn smooth. It smelled old. Not ancient, just old. She opened to the first page and saw Rutherford written in black ink so faded a few of the letters were illegible.

Of course the good Andrastian boy had his family's Chant book years after he left home. She shook her head and set it down, frowning briefly at the breeze rippling the loose leaves of paper and trailing along the back of her neck. She glanced around, looking for the open window to close it--

And her jaw dropped. She walked to the edge of the loft, boots rocking at the lip of it, before she spun around.

"What in the Void is that?" she demanded.

The breastplate in his hands slipped, barely saved from thudding to the ground.

"Maker's--what? What is what?" Cullen asked, looking around in concern.

"The hole, Cullen. There's a hole in your roof, no, that's giving your roof too much credit, since that is not a roof. How did I never notice that!?" Her neck craned back as she gaped at it. "I thought it was cold because you don't have a fireplace. Are you crazy?"

"There are much more important repairs and I'm comfortable enough," Cullen protested. He came up beside her to pull her away from the edge. "You're going to fall."

"Comfortable?" she repeated incredulously. Lanil tapped his chest with her fist and glared up at him. "You have work at your bedside and more hole than roof. No wonder you're always tired."

"The lyrium withdrawal and running an army does take its toll," Cullen said, his mouth twitching.

"Don't sass me when I'm right." That twitch became a grin and his arm slunk around her waist all sneaky-like. But she allowed it. "You obviously need someone to take care of you."

He laughed, forehead bumping hers gently. "Who, you? I've seen you in a fight now. I know how little you take care of yourself."

"Of course not me. I was thinking Dorian. He understands men much better than I do. He'll have you fixed right up."

Lanil yelped as Cullen lifted her and tossed her onto the bed. She fell back laughing, hands twisting in the linen tunic he wore to drag him down after her the moment he leaned close. They were grinning too much to kiss properly, but neither cared. They were too busy touching, searching, pulling at the remaining layers to find bare skin and keep touching. His knee was between her thighs, and when his weight lowered, the pressure had her gasping.

"Are you--"

"Okay. Yes, I am," she interrupted fervently.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you hace any HR recs where the hero makes a vow of celibacy until the heroine comes along? I read One Good Earl Deserves a Lover by Sarah Mclean and I'M SO OBSSESED NOW

Hmm, I have a few that might work! That's one of my favorite MacLeans. SO good.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt--a top favorite of mine, hero is a virgin and is determined to stay celibate due to his religious perspective/dedication to saving the world/never having fallen in love before. He.............................. breaks pretty quickly when he meets a sophisticated older widow.

Unclaimed by Courtney Milan--another virgin hero, and this one has basically taken a public vow of celibacy, as he wants to save his virginity until he's in love. The heroine is a sex worker hired to seduce and ruin him.

The Highwayman by Kerrigan Byrne is another virgin hero one, and he hasn't so much taken a vow of celibacy as he is... extremely emotionally damaged following years of abuse, and gnarled and mean, and he basically refuses to touch the heroine skin to skin which means no sex until she points out a way that they can have sex (for procreative purposes, obvi) with as little skin to skin contact as possible. TW for discussions of past childhood sexual abuse.

My Fake Rake by Eva Leigh has, I think, a celibate hero. I don't know if it's a vow so much as he's like, soooo dedicated to his work that he's like, I'LL BE CELIBATE FOR THE SAKE OF SCIENCE. The heroine is his best friend and they begin fake courting so she can catch the attention of another man. Unique in that it's about two fuckin' nerds finding love. Also, his Boyz are like "TO THE MALL!" to find a way to make him look like a proper rake. It's very cute.

A Matter of Temptation by Stacy Reid gives these vibes. The hero hasn't taken a vow of celibacy, but he isn't a virgin and he has basically never had a great time with sex and is sort of indifferent to it until he meets the heroine. I interpreted him as demisexual, for sure. Also, I believe the heroine becomes his employee, so it's a bit COMPLEX.

Glory and the Master of Shadows by Grace Callaway will give you this, though I don't think Wei made a specific vow. It's set during the Opium Wars in England, and the hero is Chinese while the heroine is 1/4 Chinese; they initially do some bonding over being in that unique position in England, and he then becomes her mentor. Buuuut she's a duke's daughter and a virgin, and he's basically been celibate for a looong time (like, close to a decade, I think) in part due to some atoning due to the loss of his family which he blames himself for, and in part because he did a lot of coping over that loss with drugs and sex for a while. But Glory is SUCH! A temptation to him. There is a scene where he eats her out against a wall while her parents are sleeping down the hall. It's great.

Hotel of Secrets by Diana Biller (one of my top reads this year) totally has this. The hero is an American Virgin Spy who's chosen to be celibate due to emotional issues and trauma, etc. The heroine is not a virgin or celibate, and there is a LOT of temptation. It's set in 1800s Vienna, which I LOVE. Super romantic, great UST.

When a Girl Loves an Earl by Elisa Braden (one of my favorite Bradens) may have this, I think...? I'm honestly not sure. I feel like the hero didn't have sex after he found out his baby son died, mostly because he didn't want to father any illegitimate children, expose his heart to love, etc. But I'm not sure. Anyway, he sure does bone that heroine with his verra verra big Scottish dick.

Accidentally Compromising the Duke by Stacy Reid FOR SURE has this. The hero is a widower whose wife died in childbirth and he feels super guilty, so while he wants a stepmother for his two daughters, he doesn't want to ever get anyone pregnant again or even risk it. But then the heroine accidentally compromises him and he's like fine let's sexless marriage it up, and she's like "EXCUSE???? SEXLESS????" and you get this hilarious, angsty ramp up of like ".... fine but just fingers... fine but just my mouth... fine but just the tip.... fine but I WILL pull out!!! fine but--"

Duke of Desire by Elizabeth Hoyt has a hero who marries the heroine (after kidnapping her) to keep her safe but refuses to have sex with her, in part due to his immense trauma over childhood sexual abuse. This is an issue, as she wants Babies.

Lord of Darkness by Elizabeth Hoyt has a widower hero who marries the heroine after being blackmailed by her brother; she was pregnant with another man's child out of wedlock, and the man died. She miscarries right after the wedding and the separate without consummation, and years later she comes back like "you better break that celibacy streak because I want a baby".

[alyjojo]

Past Life ☯️ Karmic Spread February 2023 - Scorpio

Gender I’m Picking Up On (in the past life): Male

Who You Were: 5 Pentacles, 3 Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles, 10 Wands

What You Did: King of Cups, 7 Pentacles, 9 Swords, The Lovers, Queen of Wands

How It Ended: 3 Wands, Knight of Cups, 7 Cups, 5 Swords

What Karma Was Brought With You: 8 Pentacles, Knight of Wands, Death, 4 Wands

Who You Brought With You: 9 Wands, Temperance, The Hermit & Judgement

Additional energy: 7 Wands, 6 Swords, The Devil rev, 8 Swords

Past Life Oracle: High Priest or Priestess & Orphan

Dreaming Way: Stork

Charm:

Red Moon 🌙 on 5 Swords

Mermaid 🧜‍♀️ on 7 Cups

Ship’s Helm 🛳 on Stork

TW: most of these are difficult. This life feels like it was centuries ago, very old. Catholic 💯 I’m not sure where exactly, but you were in a Catholic orphanage…which may not have even been called that, but that’s essentially what it was. Have you ever seen the movie The Hunchback of Notre Dame? I have never read that book and have hardly even seen the movie, but I can’t shake it. That’s this reading, sort of, not the place or the story, not the person if there’s some actual likeness of someone no, not literally, but Frollo. That’s you, in this life, he popped into my head and it won’t go away until I mention it. Minus the evil power trippy, gypsy killing stuff. Well…sort of. Whew, that was easy to explain 😵‍💫 Spirit knows how to get the message to me and this is what they used. I watched the “Hellfire” song and got shivers all over my body. THAT. Nailed it 😳

You were abandoned, an orphan, and it was a very difficult life. The conditions weren’t the best, nor were the other kids around you. Trouble existed everywhere, I heard “boys will be boys”, there was filth, illness, death, sadness, abandonment, it was so normal that it did something to your empathy and emotions. It took a lot to really shake you, and it was rare to happen. You probably went there very young, I see no memories or imprints of parents even existing, and you didn’t leave for a long, long time. You became like a parental figure to other children as you grew older, formed bonds with them, and felt it was your duty to give back to those who had cared for you, by doing what they do. I only see boys. I don’t think there were any girls, very limited interactions with females at all other than teachers, nurses, or maternal-like figures of some kind.

I don’t know if you made it all the way to a true level of Priest…or later stages of Priesthood…idk bear with me here, I’m not Catholic 😬 But you DID make a vow of celibacy, did take it very seriously, and you did continue the work there as an adult, for a really long time it feels. You may have been a priest. They may have needed you so badly that missing a step or two of training was overlooked, you were ushered in, something like that. A priest based on good faith & behavior, you were the model child & were trusted. You were respected, valued, and necessary. A priest that’s isn’t “fully” a priest. Or that could just be because you never really believed in any of that from the beginning. It was like going through the motions. You said what needed to be said, did what needed to be done, you felt a purpose and destiny from this and it served you well, but deeply inside, there was no real belief in anything. I don’t think you really even considered that much, or you felt it would eventually change, you just had to “find” God, or they would find you.

You were celibate, intimacy was like heresay in your crowd, it was taught as sin or for reproductive purposes, if it was “taught” at all, it was something that really stressed you out (later) and being celibate was easy for you for a long time. Temptation came in the form of a beautiful woman, Queen of Wands, a short interaction that changed your life, at some point, I’m getting your mid-late 30s or early 40s for the age, and from there it became an obsession that never left you alone. This particular person was not the one you acted on, that came later, after much torture in your psyche in dealing with these deeply oppressed (but human) desires. In the song video I watched, Frollo mentions a “siren” and that comes out here as something you fantasized about regularly, constantly. Sirens tempting you from the depths, with a song, or whatever the stories were. Waiting to take intimate action, celibacy, and the act of abstaining in order to maintain a “pious” reputation became torture for you, you literally drove yourself crazy. The fear of God’s wrath weighed as heavily on you as the temptation and desire, which eventually won.

I don’t know how many times this ended up happening, but the one shown here comes up as a Queen of Pentacles, which could have been a merchant of some kind, who ended it all for you. You were probably very violent with her, had your way, and most likely killed her as well. Afterwards, you left, or ran away. I don’t think anyone knew what you’d done, or that it was you, but you couldn’t face your own reputation, or God’s wrath. You may have repeated this situation several times with different women, until eventually someone caught up with you, a husband or passerby, your death was a violent vengeance, based on what you were doing or trying to do at the time. In this life, your career is a difficult thing for you to manage, either you keep getting jobs that don’t last, or there is one major event of a job letting you down, and it changes everything. You may have lost a home because of this, your financial stability rests on sand even when you double check for solid foundations…things will change. Or have. Or you are the one that caused this to happen.

Who you’ve brought are two of the people you had hurt in the past, but they are passing connections, no one that has really lasted or made an impact on you. You may have already gone through a more recent life or…five idk, this is very old one, where the people are concerned anyway. The people you have brought are peaceful connections you’ve had briefly. They may have come around when you were going through something painful, in a helpful way, just for a short time before they left again. It’s like a “person at the gas station that always offers to wash your windows” kind of vibe, or the nurse available when you were rushed to the hospital. They exist but are so small in impact that they may be missed altogether, and the soul-tie seems to exist for them more than you. You never know how you know someone eh?

You’ve also brought with you a defensive attitude towards leaving toxic behaviors behind, you feel there’s nothing you can do, you don’t really try, you are a “that’s how I am” sort of person that honestly isn’t happy with a stable, boring kind of life. Or you can’t manage to get there. Careers aren’t lasting, relationships aren’t mentioned but I don’t get a “solid & stable” vibe off of anything. You just do what you need to do and then leave, and go do something else. You’re not happy like that either, but you don’t know any other way. Stork and the Ship’s Helm both come out together to show you the way. In the past life, children are what gave you direction. You’ve brought that to this life too. If they’re your children, those of someone you know or date perhaps, something involving them, children are your path to finding your center, purpose, what makes you feel like your life has meaning so you can steer yourself in a more “moral” and stable sort of way, that’s your foundation, it’s what your soul desires. Showing them the right way shows you too 🧡

[blueyellow8green]

Okay let's talk about episode four

⚠️Spoilers ahead (you have been warned) ⚠️

⚠️also TW: sex, pregnancy, birth trauma, HOTD related issues, incest (💀)⚠️

This episode gave us so much and also so little. I'm going to break it up into chunks focusing on each character because whoooo I have some thoughts.

First up: Alicent Hightower

Was I expecting to fall in love with Alicent? To relate to her struggle and feel sympathy? Not really. Especially when the first HOTD trailer portrayed her as Rheanyra's nemisis. But in fact what we have is a very nuanced and deeply tragic character.

And I'm going to say this - but Alicent is everything Viserys wishes his daughter was. Obedient. Kind. Quiet.

In an episode primarily about sex and pleasure this scene made me so uncomfortable. Maybe even more uncomfortable than Aemma's C-section in a way. That was brutal and sad and violent but this is a different kind of breaking. Alicent tried to completely disconnect herself during sex and Viserys literally turns her head and force her to be present.

Why is this important? This scene alongside Alicent's loneliness as a mother is what is going to set up her hatred for Rheanyra. Rheanyra has sex because she wants it - not out of duty. Rheanyra gets to choose her partner and gets to be as picky as she wants. All liberties taken from Alicent. When they become "friends" again I think Rheanyra doesn't realise how MUCH this means to Alicent and when Rheanyra inevitably either upsets Alicent, betraying her or breaking her trust it will hurt that much more.

The parallels set up here are to show A) how different Alicent and Rheanyra are. And B) to show how inferior Viserys is to Daemon.

Next up: Daemon Targaryen

We have all been waiting for some Rheanyra and Daemon action and we got a mixed bag in this episode. It definitely confirmed the attraction on both sides and set up a nice bit of tension and drama. But it did leave me feeling frustrated.

We have Daemon's tenderness. Which we only ever see when he is with Rheanyra. He clearly does have feelings for her. But his main issue is his chaos.

When Rheanyra starts to take action in their "coupling" he rejects her. Starts flinching and pulling away. And then a few scenes later asks her dad for her hand in marriage? I understand he is a complicated character, insane to a degree, volatile and violent but this to me doesn't make much sense for him. He doesn't ever seen satisfied with sex (we saw this in the whorehouse in the first episode) but I assumed this was due to his feelings for Rheanyra. Now that clearly isn't the case.

The scene where they hold hands and she wears that little beanie hat however? 10/10 peak.

Cristin Cole

I doubt I even need to point out the parallel body language between See Cristin and Rheanyra with Daemon and Rheanyra. The hands on the face as well as the hand under the chin/lips. This is something I think Rheanyra mimicked Deamon for possibly. But that's where the similarities between these two couples stop.

The directors did a great job in making the cinematography entirely opposite between the two couples. Cristin/Rheanyra are surround by colour, light, their movements are slow and so is the camera movement. There's little audio. And most noticeably the camera stays zoomed out (or in wide/medium shot). This is the EXACT opposite to Daemon/Rheanyras scene.

Not only does this show the differences between the two men but also the differences in what these men mean to Rheanyra. We know she will have them both as lovers at some point but that doesn't mean they're the same in affection.

There is an interesting attention to consent. With Cristin being given several instances by Rheanyra to back away, she doesn't force him or pull him without him taking that first step. Laying down the white cloak and then entering through the doorway shows him physical breaking his celibacy vow. Which is quite important - like Rheanyra's virtue.

Consent is a further theme in their relationship as they undress literally in sync (a very cute moment) neither seems to dominate the other (unlike Daemon and Rheanyra vying for power).

I mean just look at how happy she is my sweet girl.

Lastly Rheanyra

I've already spoke about her a lot already (consequence of her being the main character). One more thing I will say about her is this:

Her characters foundation is based in her gender. She resents being a woman and she resents the system that dictates her life because she is a woman. Her excitement at getting called "boy" as well as quickly adapting to male garments shows her comfortability. Her power is founded in her "male strength".

Whats the point of this? Well it's to further highlight how she is the right person for the throne. This episode shows she has the same strength, will, cunning and determination as a man.

Her bald faced "I swear on my dead mother" lie made my stomach drop in the best way. *I* didn't screw *Daemon* (not pictured Cristin sweating in the background).

[aroaceconfessions]

Hi o/ this is more of a help ask than a confession.

TW: (catholic) priests, romance, marriage, sex, celibacy, religion and aphobia mentions.

I'm writing a story around kept secrets and such and amongst the characters I'm making a priest. As we know, priests are celibate and can't marry, I could've gone for him straight up breaking this vows and such, but I ended up falling for the idea of him cohabitating with this couple who he's in love with (and who are in love with him). They are not in a relationship with him (for priestly reasons, obviously) but they still have a sweet and intimate dynamic. Everytime I read about it they say "priests can't be in relationships because they have to be celibate" but, uh… being in a relationship doesn't equal breaking the celibacy vows.

So, I was trying to search about how much I could go, would he be allowed to be on a romantic relationship without sex? What would it be if I changed it for a qpr instead then? Is he allowed to cohabitate with a woman? Are cuddles okay? What about kisses on face? I wanted to make this "slipping through the cracks in the rules" kinda thing but… I can't research.

Much of the content that appears once you research is always casting doubts about "is it possible to live in celibacy" and some straight up saying that no human can stand celibacy happily and how it will always be hard and feel like a punishment and there's no way someone can go through life without falling in love. It's just… so very aroacephobic, I get so very triggered I can't really even properly browse through pages, much less read its content.

So, if anyone could help out with just… the limitations, the dos and don'ts and if there are any… breaches? gaps? Like, "flaws" in the wules he could've navigated through, even if dangerously pushing the boundaries of interpretation and literal meaning of words and such. I would be very, VERY thankful.

[xkarkat-vantasx]

Kankri tl2

Canonmates: none

Looking for: everyone

Tw: general hs things

Well i cant very remember how we died but we did. Dreambubbles come and were all trying to figure out the point of almost anything at that point. I know my vow was in place and we were all very dramatic.

Well as time passed we gained more of a sense of existence

I will say that i was rather rude and unlike fanon kankri i swore at times. I called porrim a slut and beleive me she didnt get all in her feelings we faught over that one.

As we grew older(not physically but mentally) we all kinda mellowed out a bit. I was close with Cronus and rufioh.

Rufio was my mairail

Me and Cronus were dating but he didnt mind the platonicness of rufioh.

As you can tell by now my celibacy broke and it was because i just didnt see the point anymore. I did it because of past rejection and didnt want to get hurt again.

I mostly remember pale spots with rufioh and domestic spots with Cronus.

I was very emotional internally and Rufioh knew how to talk to me. He was very sweet with me.

I had a breakdoen because i felt like i wasn't good enough for anything and i had a fight with Cronus and i felt awful about it.

Well i got some shooshpaps from him and we cuddled and i cried. We went back to mine and now Cronus's home and we talked it out. Rufioh was glad to help but i dont think he Approved of my choice in boyfriend.

I remember being in the livingroom when Cronus would write music in this off to the side sun room like thing and id just pretend to read while he worked on music.

Cronus would very much flirt with me even after dating and i still could not flirt back. How does one still flirt. I dont know.

Cronus gave me a cd for a special occasion and well. He wanted to dance and i was scared but he lead me and it was so sweet.

I was a chubby troll with baby face and red freckles. I still had long eyelashes. I may have beeen trans but tbh in troll society no one knows and no one cared bc gender structure wasnt huge. I was definitely short. Around 5'2

Cronus was a tall and lanky guy with muscle. He had freckles and some chipped teeth. He was absoloutly one to straighten his hair necause when it wasnt slicked back and straight, it was mid length and curly.

Rufioh was even taller than cronus but not taller than kurloz. He was kinda boxy in shape and like... he was built and did weight lifting so itd make sense. He had a bright smile and he could carry me. It was great.

[auradonuniversity]

Meet The Ecclesiastic. They’re the child of Frollo, a junior at Auradon University and hails from The Isle. Some say they look like Alex Fitzalan and they’re TAKEN.

Name: Zachary Cane Frollo

Age: 21 years old

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Occupation: N/A

Sports and Clubs: The AU Journal, Water Polo, Slam Poetry, Youth Ministry, Hospital Volunteer Group

Major: Religious Studies (B.A), Minor in French

Biography - child abuse tw

The accidental son of religious zealot, Zachary grew up in a home without love. Frollo often took out his own self hatred out on his son, bashing him for sins he had never committed, making him fear almost daily for his mortal soul. He knew at an early age his father had named him Cane as a curse. Most of his life was spent feeling as if he was some monster who had only been forced upon his father as an act of punishment for his blasphemous nature during his life in Paris. Afraid of doing too much of anything, lest it be considered a sin by his father, Zachary spent much of his childhood hiding in his home, reading books to keep himself comforted. Every morning he would get up and pray that he would one day be free of his father’s torture and move to a place where ever move he made would not leave him fearing a vengeful fist.

When children of the Isle were first admitted into Auradon, he could hardly believe it. In secret, he wrote out an application, praying that he would finally be given his chance of escape. Life on the Isle was claustrophobic and no matter where he went he could feel Frollo watching. He blamed the accident that kept him from fulfilling his dream entirely on The Credulous, though he knew in his heart that some of it belonged to him for forgetting how gullible she truly was. He retreated into himself, only letting a few in. When the second round of acceptances came, Zachary nearly began to weep. At last he was going to be free.

But Auradon was no place of perfection. Who would have thought that dodging someone he used to consider his best friend was going to be considered an art form by only his second week on campus. All around him was more debauchery than he had ever experienced on the Isle, with no one even thinking it their place to repent. Auradon University was supposed to be his savior, but every day it feels a little bit more like a nightmare.

Character Traits

positive: focused, meticulous, charitable negative: resentful, moody, insecure

Headcanons

After moving to Auradon, Zachary decided to shed his previous name, and the attachment it had to his father, and go by Cane. It felt like a subtle way of confirming to himself that his father did not own him any longer, could not hurt him, or touch him, when he was finally as far away as he could get.

He struggles with sexuality, often fearing his own compulsions. The fact that he finds women attractive down right terrifies him, for he was told time and time again by his father that it was the sin of lust he committed that led to his downfall. Cane is loathe to even imagine what horrors his father could possibly have done to his missing mother and has vowed to do what Frollo could not and maintain celibacy.

The one thing Cane allows himself to indulge in is sweets. He loves chocolates and candies and anything else you can find at a sweet shop. There’s a giant stash of lollipops in his room that he’s willing to share with people who he think need a little cheering up.

He loves working with kids. Maybe it’s a way of reminding himself he can be kinder than his father ever was, but working with children soothes his soul. You can often find him during weekdays in the children’s ward at the local hospital, reading to them or helping them make crafts.

Connections

The Coquette: The Ecclesiastic has very strong religious beliefs which rule their life. The Coquette… well, no so much. The Coquette is working on getting to know the Ecclesiastic, trying to see if any of their super strong morals are a little more flexible than they appear to be.

The Credulous: The Credulous has always been a follower and therefore it’s always been easy to take advantage of them. When the Ecclesiastic suggested to her (jokingly, of course) some major disaster of a plot, she didn’t hesitate and went along with it. It truly did end in disaster and they are no longer friends.

The Demure: The Demure and the Ecclesiastic are the best of friends. Both hadn’t been in the first round of VK’s picked to attend Auradon University, but once both of their names were drawn, they decided to take the leap together.

[lastsonofkunlun]

Could that be SACHA DHAWAN? No! That’s just DAVOS! I heard that they are a VILLAIN called STEEL SERPENT! Rumour has it HE is 30 and is working as a FUGATIVE. 

tw: murder mention, violence mention

Okay so small summary of Davos: he is the only other survivor of K’un-Lun, he left the city in order to find Danny (the Iron Fist) and force him to go back to the city and defend the path that opens once every fifteen years. K’un-Lun was destroyed and Davos 100% blames Danny for the destruction of the ancient city. He teams up with Danny’s sister, Joy after the events of season 1 and they both decide that they are going to rip Danny and Ward apart. Joy wants revenge for Danny and Ward lying to her, and Davos knows of a ritual so he can steal the iron fist.

He did manage to steal the fist for a time and used it to ‘cleanse the city of its filth.’ he enforced his own law, not the actual law. Those who stood against him or disagreed or doubted in any sense of the word, were killed without prejudice. Colleen and Danny (along with some help from Walker and Misty) take down Davos and Colleen claims the Fist from him, making her the new Iron Fist. (friendly reminder that davos has called her a hand whore a number of times and h a t e s her)  

Like Danny, Davos has 0 understanding of the way the world works out here. Technology is beyond him and for now, he doesn’t have a cellphone -- I think that will only change if a plot depends on him being able to be contacted, otherwise, no texts from this boi. 

Divergent from the tv show, Bex and I have been playing around with Colleen’s fist getting weaker and the fact that in the show Danny managed to get his fist back (with no explanation gdi netflix), so, Davos ALSO has an iron fist. His glows red and like Colleen’s, it’s not completely stable.

He prefers things to be orderly, to be lawful (at least from his perspective, but law breakers of any kind are okay to kill!), he also prefers people around him to be disciplined. He’s willing to make sacrifices in order to get what he needs. (For example, be broke his vow of celibacy in order to obtain the items he needed for the ritual mentioned above) 

Up until a few weeks ago, Davos was on the Raft. He had been a powered villain, and because of that, he was locked up there. When the Raft finally hit the shore, Davos was free and immediately got to work in finding people who hate vigilantes as much as he does. (only pausing when he found out that Colleen had been shot, so he went out of his way to find the guy who shot her and helped plan the ambush in the alley that resulted in Danny getting shot). His goal at the moment is to destroy everything Danny holds dear to him but he intends on leaving Danny alive. Why? So that he can spend the rest of his life in absolute misery. 

SO PLOT STUFF, if you have a character who hates heroes, Davos will likely be willing to team up with them, even if only temporary. If your character has any involvement with the Raft -- other inmates or even SHIELD employees with access to the files, we can wing something! Just know he can’t get caught/arrested for a while. For the most part, outwardly, he doesn’t come off as evil. So we could also have them meet in a neutral setting. He’ll be targetting people close to Danny, so if you’re one of those people, then we could also plot something with that! ANYWAY HMU ilu guys. 

[thegoblinwitchqueen]

Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth

Chapter: 12

Arthur Morgan X OC

18+

Word Count: 4112

TW: Reference to death/childloss  

AO3  

His name was Daniel and he was beautiful.

Daniel was blessed with red hair, brown eyes, and the cutest feet. His skin was new and soft, and Del enjoyed the way her fingers confused the baby's skin for cotton when the young mother gently brushed the tips of them along his full cheeks.

Cheeks that should have been rosy and warm, but instead were ashen gray and blue.

Daniel came into the world on July 4, 1890 during the final hours of Blackwater’s Independence Day Parade. Del remembered the night vividly because the contractions that caused her abdomen to clench and burn matched in cadence with the firework show that painted the night sky with lights.

The pain was unbearable and excruciating. Del found that by pacing the tiny room she had once shared with her Mother inside of Diana’s brothel, the repetitive motions of her legs were the only way to keep her sanity and distract her mind from the growing pain of her cervix. Her child was ready and eager to join the family who so anxiously waited for his arrival—much like they had done for Cordelia eighteen long years ago.

Unlike his mother, Daniel was not the product of love between too young people torn apart by the two worlds they resided in. He was, unfortunately, the result of a lengthy and arduous molestation between a perverse man of God and a young orphan who was forced and abused into performing acts no child should be exposed to.

It was a blessing from the lord above that Del had not conceived prior to her eighteen birthday, or the situation she had found herself surviving would have played out differently.

Del realized she was pregnant a month before her long awaited departure from her prison in Saint Denis. She had observed that her cycle was more than a month late, her stomach grew fickle, and she could no longer stand to smell Sister Margarita’s lemon and ginger candle that Del used to love to inhale during evenings Bible studies.

Cordelia Black was pregnant and scared.

The young woman kept her swelling abdomen hidden from the clergy by under thick layers of skirts and blouses. Del was two months away from the age she needed to reach to escape her long term abuser and father to her unborn child.

Father Leo Frederick was not an unattractive man. He had come to the orphanage at the age of 21 from a rich plantation family in Lemoyne. He was to take a vow of celibacy, and serve the lord after he had assaulted a maid which resulted in an unwanted bastard. He was a handsome man with copper locks that curled and framed his strong jaw. He was charitable, responsible, and charismatic. Father Frederick was the youngest priest to ever run the Saint Dennis Orphanage, and he had a dark side.

When the raven haired child of five arrived from Blackwater, Father Frederick had just graduated to priesthood and had been managing the orphanage for less than a month. At first, he treated the young girl with utmost care and provided the child with everything she needed to adjust to her new life in the priory. However, after a few years, his care and company transitioned from that of a young priest hoping to provide guidance, to something more sinister.

As far as Del could remember, Father Frederick started his grooming of the innocent child little by little.

It began with a hand that lingered a little too long on her thigh during prayer, or the times when he just so happened to walk in on her as she bathed or changed. Things that seemed harmless and easily rationalized in the psyche of the small child. That was, until he made his move when she was nine years old.

Del had entered a small janitorial closet to hang the mop and bucket she had used to clean the chapel floor, and found herself locked in with the older gentleman.

Unfortunately, that closet would become a dark and painful place within her memory.

Father Frederick tried to keep Cordelia Black, and throughout the years, had succeeded to deter any potential families that wanted to adopt the young raven haired child with fictitious warnings of an unruly and cruel child. After all, she had been the spawn of a prostitute and an outlaw who had just started to make a name for himself when she arrived.

As a result, Del was stuck in an unending cycle with no prospects to save her except the one given by government to ordain her as a legal adult.

When she was just two months shy of her eighteen birthday, Daniel was conceived in that very closet.

Now in Blackwater, another painful contraction of her womb forced the young mother onto her knees. With fingers that shook and breaths that were hard and gasping, she reached between her legs to where she could feel the soft, moist head of hair that belonged to her unborn child. He was finally ready.

She screamed and held her breath as her body took hold to guide her to push the child free from her aching womb. Diana held her hands underneath in waiting for her nephew.

One.

Two.

Three

Breathe.

Again

One

Two

Three.

One more time.

One

Two

Three

Finally, the fair haired child fell from his young mother and into the midnight arms of his adopted Aunt. Del was exhausted, sick, sweaty, and eager to hold the child that would kick her ribs and bladder for months. She sat against the leg of her wooden bed frame, and watched as the once elated faces of her aunts transitioned from smiling to something she couldn’t quite place. Something that made her heart stop and her eyes tear.

Diana furiously cleaned the child’s airways of mucus and provided breaths of life into the infant's mouth. Sadly, it didn’t matter as it was too late.

The long and arduous labor had caused the child to wrap the bond that once provided love and nutrients from his now anxious mother around his tiny neck. Daniel was gone before he even took his first breath. Del sobbed, and held her son against her chest.

God was cruel to her, and she did not know why.

The child was buried next to his Grandmother in Blackwater. Two souls taken to heaven too young. And again, Del stood at the familiar gravesite while she cried hot and bitter tears.

Del decided at that moment that she would leave and would not come back.

________________________________________________________

They say that the confessions of the intoxicated are the truths of the sober mind. Truths that most would prefer to keep locked away by the inhibitions that alcohol magically lowered.

And the night when Arthur Morgan had confided in Cordelia Black the emotions he had started to feel for the girl was one such confession that had been released with the help of a few shots of good ol’ Whiskey.  The outlaw had told Del that he wanted to pursue her affections.

Brave of him…considering the forces that stood to keep the two apart.

Del thought of her father and how he would surely oppose his only daughter getting caught up in the romance of his eldest adopted son. Dutch loved Arthur, would kill for him, but knew that Cordelia was not meant for a life of danger and strife.

The man had mentioned during her time at Horseshoe Overlook that he had intended to find a place of refuge for his daughter once they had enough money to allow Del to pay off her 800.00 bounty.  The amount was obscene and an obvious attempt to lure bounty hunters or keep Del with the gang until the Pinkerton Agency could track them down. Whispers of the girl's disappearance and her connections to the Van der Linde gang were all over Valentine.

Del had told Arthur she needed time.

Time for planning…and time to decide if she was ready to release the awful parts of herself from the prison her mind had kept the thoughts hidden from the light of day for so many years. Being with Arthur would mean he would have to know her. Scars and all. And that terrified her.

Del sat heavily on the log bench next to Molly O’Shea as the two women drank their morning coffee as they did every morning. Typically, the two would discuss the previous night's dreams or their plans for the upcoming afternoon. However, this morning was particularly silent.

Arthur had left for another trip that would take no more than a week.

Javier and Charles had left the day before to track down the whereabouts of Sean MacGuire in Blackwater, and Arthur needed to join them to ensure the young Irishman’s safe return.

It was Karen that woke Del from her deep slumber with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. Sean was found alive, and coming home. While the young woman held her sister in a loving embrace, Del saw that the cot of Arthur Morgan was empty.

Arthur must have left before the morning sun peeked over the mountains of New Hanover, and before saying goodbye to Del.

The young woman knew that her words from two nights prior, while not a firm rejection, hurt him.

Arthur Morgan was a man who kept the inner workings of his mind and heart behind walls that were impervious to most people or situations that others would cave to so easily. He was strong, caring, and a prideful fool. He had avoided the young woman by performing chores around the camp, or leaving to Valentine for odd jobs. Del found herself often drawing in her book, alone.

“You’re awfully quiet, Del.” Molly's melodic voice broke through the cloud of thoughts that kept Del’s blue eyes fixated on the dancing fire flames. “Is there something on your mind?”

Molly was a shrewd woman. Her thick red hair was full of secrets, and Del knew that she was incredibly observant of the inner workings of the camp social relationships.

Del figured that Molly had an idea of the cause of Del's silence to be that of the affections of a certain outlaw.

However, the young woman still contemplated if telling her Fathers lover of the words Arthur had said was for their best interest or against it.

Molly seemed to know much about the topic of love and could assuredly provide Del with advice that she so desperately needed to help her navigate this uncharted territory. Still, Del knew that if she did, Dutch would find out and Del did not know what to expect. As well, she just did not have the energy to handle the stress of it.

“I just worry about the boys, is all.” Del sipped the bitter water from her tin mug with furrowed brows. She was worried for Javier and sweet Charles, but Arthur and his safety was heavy at the forefront of her mind. Molly lifted a thinly drawn eyebrow. “Blackwater was crawling with Pinkertons when I left for Valentine. I figure not much has changed-“

“Which boy, in particular?” Molly cut in. The Irish beauty would not allow her Lovers kin to change the subject so easily and without a fight. Molly had an idea of Arthur’s affections, but she wanted Del to tell her.

“All of them, Molly.” Del was too smart to play into her game.

Another bout of awkward silence fell between them before Dutch approached the red haired beauty from behind, kissed her rosy cheek, and greeted his daughter with a loving smile. Del was thankful for Dutch’s timely intervention.

“The day is bright and bountiful  with visions of beauties around this refuge for the damned. Good morning, Molly.” He kissed the Lilly white hand of Ms. O’Shea. “Cordelia.”

“Good morning, Dutch.” Del forced a weak smile. He did not seem to notice her melancholy the same way Molly had.

“It is a great day to know that Sean is alive, and should be home within the week. Karen is sure to be thrilled.” Dutch massaged Molly's shoulders through her bright green blouse. The redhead blushed and giggled. “You’ll love Sean, Del. He’s young, about your age, and quite a talker. But don’t expect him to read with you!”

Del laughed slightly. She knew about Sean from the nights Karen had secretly cried next to her and prayed for his safe return. Karen wasn’t a woman meant for religion, but she prayed for him. Even if she acted like she did not care for the boy.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Del dumped the last of her chilled drink and straightened the fabric of her prairie skirt when she stood up. “Dutch, do you think I could go for a ride? The Duchess has been restless. And I’m not planning on going into Valentine for a good while.”

The camp was relatively sparse compared to the crowded and bustling energy Del had become accustomed to. As a result, chores were easily finished before lunch and Del was bored by supper.

The boys were spread out amongst New Hanover, Blackwater, and even as far as Strawberry. Most of what was left behind was the women, child, and older members of the group.

Cordelia had gained more of Dutch’s trust and as a result of her dedication to the gang through acts of service around camp. The man had begun to allow the young woman to ride for no more than an hour at a time as long as she stayed amongst the plains and forest. And so far, nothing noteworthy had occurred to deter his loosening decision. Del got to know her father well, and understood the strict precautions he had imposed on his kin. They were precautions that he too had to reluctantly follow.

Del realized that Dutch rarely left the safety of the camp unless he absolutely needed to. He too was in a prison of his own making as his wanted posters crowded the bounty boards from Blackwater to Annesburg. Del compared herself and her father to Two eagles who were unfortunately trapped in cages meant for canaries.

Dutch exaggerated a disapproving expression across his face, but Del knew he was in a good mood and only meant to jest or tease.

“Alright, Jelly. Just be back in an hour and keep a low profile.” Dutch opened his arms to embrace the young woman. Del gladly held her tiny frame against her fathers broad chest. Every moment she spent with the man was precious, and she memorized the beating of his heart as she held him in a fatherly hug. Del had never expected to become so close to the man in her photograph that she had stared at for so long.

“Don’t worry, I plan on coming back soon.” Del gave a quick goodbye to Molly and her camp companions before she mounted an eager Duchess and rode off to get some fresh air.

___________________________________________________________

The dry grass of Blackwater caused the rough skin of Arthur Morgan to itch as it poked through his faded blue button up. The sun was high in the sky, and the outlaw could feel his face grow tight and red as the heat bore down upon him.

Arthur had joined his brothers in arms in Blackwater for reconnaissance. Sean MacGuire was being held by bounty hunters and was expected to be hung at the gallows later that week.

It was by happenstance that Josiah Trelawney had discovered the young man’s location when he had stayed behind in Blackwater. As a floating member of the gang, Trelawney often escaped notoriety or bounties. He was useful, and more often, incredibly annoying.

Javier, Arthur, and Charles were camped on a cliffside plateau that provided the best visual to the bustling city below. They laid on their stomachs amongst the golden grains to share a set of binoculars that they used to observe the Pinkertons and Ike Skeldding's bounty boy that stood posted around the town. From far away, they looked like an angry ant colony.

“Damn…There are so many.” Charles observed as he gazed through the binoculars. He passed the seeing glass to Arthur who only groaned in aggravated agreement. Javier grimaced and clicked his tongue.

This was going to be tough.

Arthur knew that there was a good chance that he or his friends may not make it back alive. Still, when he went to stir the sleeping woman from her cot to say his goodbye, Arthur could not bring himself to touch her bare shoulder. His heart and idiot brain were still reeling from the night he told her his intentions.

He did not mean to do it, and he did not want to either. However, the whiskey had allowed his carefully controlled mind to succumb to feelings similar to those he felt in adolescence towards a Ms. Mary Gillis. Despite his frustration with himself, he was surprised that Del had even considered him.

Arthur thought of the red flush of her cheeks as they stood in the river. Her hair was wet and plastered to her face and nightgown. She had smiled and held his hand tightly within her own small grip. His heart palpitated through his chest in anticipation as he watched her bite her smiling lip before she had asked for time.  

Not a no.

Time.

Arthur could work with time.

Josiah quietly snuck across the plateau to join the trio on the cliff side. In a surprising and un dramatic way, the dandy gave his companions a quick update to Sean’s whereabouts. He was held by bounty hunters and expected to be transferred that day.

“We’ve got to plan this just right, or Sean will have to be cut loose.” Arthur let an exasperated growl escape his dry lips.

“We’re not cutting anyone loose.” Charles was quick to put the third hand into his place. Charles was just and honorable, which meant no one was left behind. The four continued to map out their plan before they ultimately left to find their brother. Sean was coming home.

____________________________________________________

The spring breeze of New Hanover was cool even as the summer season started to creep in from around the corner. The days were growing long, and the humidity was beginning to set in and Del knew that the summer heat would be difficult to manage in a tiny caravan. She did not look forward to the heated smells of man and manure.

Duchess was excited to be on the dirt path and not amongst the other horses to graze lazily on bright green grasses and wildflowers. Despite Duchess becoming close to Dutch’s stallion, The Count, she had been relatively unruly and even tried to kick poor Kieran in the leg when he tried to clean her hooves. Much like the woman that rode her, the cob needed to stretch her short legs.

Del had enjoyed her outing, and the slight burn on her cheeks from the sun made her think of Arthur in Blackwater.

Blackwater was hot most of the year, and she was sure he would come back peeling and sore. She was ready for him to be home even though she knew he had just left that very morning.

The young woman kept her horse at a steady pace, but slowed when she came across the distinctive markings of carriage wheels on the dirt below.

Typically, Del would have not minded the prints, but the trail of the carriage seemed erratic and indicated some sort of distress before leading to a small ravine. Del closely followed the trail, her wide eyes looked on to keep thr tracks in her line of sight as the prints drastically veered into the grass.  Suddenly, she came across the unlucky origin of the erratic track marks.

They were the result of a small passenger carriage, turned on its head and stuck within the muddy contents that had sat previously undisturbed at the bottom of the ravine. The horse that pulled the carriage was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh my god!” The young woman dismounted her beast and descended the muddy hill with speed and care. “Hello?! Is anyone hurt?”

No response was heard. When Del reached the carriage, muddy and frantic, the upside down vehicle appeared to be empty. Inside was a carpet suitcase, a feathered hat, and a woman’s cloak but the passenger was no longer present. Del felt relieved as the emptiness at least meant that no one was hurt or dead. She wiped her brow, and cursed as the mud from her hand left a dark mark. She forgot.

“Hello? Is anyone down there?”

A feminine voice like summer rain reverberated through the silence.

“I-I am!” Del called back. “I only came to make sure no one needed immediate assistance.”

“Oh goodness! I am the owner of that carriage! Please, do not trouble yourself further. If you climb up I’ll help you!”

Del looked up to see a blacked out shadow of a woman. Her figure blocked out the brightness of the late spring sun, and Del could barely make out her face. The young woman ascended the hillside on all fours until she reached the top where the stranger extended her hand to pull Del to the safety of the dirt path.

“Thank you,” Del wheezed out. She seemed to be covered in mud more recently than ever in her life in Blackwater or Saint Dennis. “I appreciate it.”

“No, please. It’s my fault you look a mess.” The woman reached into her pocket book and pulled out an already used handkerchief for Del to remove the mud from her hands. “I’m sorry, I used it for my own hands after the accident. It’s just mud, and I’m sure this is better than nothing.”

Del took the handkerchief gratefully, and wiped her hands and face. Once finished, she returned the cloth to the woman. Del took in the beautiful features of the strangers' face with a sense of awe.

The stranger was older, but no more than 35 with chestnut hair, a fine bridged nose, a beauty mark on her right cheek, and soft full lips. Her outfit screamed gentry, and her complexion was clear from the stressors of labor. She was a fine woman of high class.

“I’m glad you are well!” Del was relieved that the woman was free of harm despite the dirty ring around her teal dress from where the woman had trudged through the mud.

“Thank you. I was sitting in the shade waiting for my driver to return. He took our mare to Valentine to see if he can procure a carriage to complete our journey to town.” The woman’s smile was warm, but Del could see worry hidden behind her dark eyes. “Although it seems that fate has made my mission more difficult. He has yet to return and it’s been at least three hours.”

“Seems like a long time to be away as Valentine should be no more than 45 minutes from here.” Del looked at the horizon and could faintly see the chapel bell tower peaking through the hills. The unfortunate events had seemed to cause the woman to stay exposed and alone to the elements while she waited. Del knew what troubles lurked for a woman who was alone in the wild open.

“Yes, that’s what worries me. My father hired him recently, and the gentleman seemed…untrustworthy. It was a group of coyotes that spooked our horse and sent us flying.” The woman laughed. “But luckily no one was hurt. I worry that they may have caused my driver more issues…or he may have stolen my ten dollars and my mare.”  

Del knew that in her good conscience she could not leave this woman to wait for a man who may never come to retrieve her.

Dell removed the simple blue shawl that she had wrapped around her dress for extra protection, and wrapped the thin fabric around her head like how the Slavic immigrant grandmothers wore around Blackwater. Dutch would understand, and it was only a small ride. The Duchess was strong, and with some coaxing, could carry both women to Valentine within 30 minutes.

“Ma’am, please allow me to escort you to Valentine. I would hate to know that you were out here. There are outlaws and animals that roam these parts.”

“Oh no! I…I couldn’t!”

“Please, “ Del extended her hand in greeting for the woman to shake. “My name is Elizabeth Kilgore.”

The woman hesitated, and looked at Del with a questioning expression across her delicate features. “Mary Linton.”

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Little Witch

Based on a prompt sent to me by @byzantium-glytch ages ago: “you’re the only one I can trust to do this” and “you’re safe, I’ve got you now” with Mad Sweeney. The reader is a witch, specifically a follower of Hecate, and has been serving her mistress since the Bronze Age (ancient Greece).

TW: injury.

“Come on, little witch,” Mad Sweeney wheedled, grinning at you from across the table. “You’re the only one I can trust to do this.”

You rolled your eyes and sipped your beer, watching him over the rim of the glass. His grin faltered into a frown as you set the glass down and stared blankly at him. The lines between his brows deepened as your rolled your eyes. “More like you’re too lazy to do it yourself,” you accused, shoving a French fry into your mouth. “I fucking love modern food,” you moaned, distracted from your ire.

“Not true! I have something else I’m to be doing,” he drawled. “This isn’t even that hard! Ya sneak in, find out what they know about Shadow, and sneak out. Easy-peasy.”

You took a massive bite of your burger, contemplating him as you chewed. His grin only widened, turning on the leprechaun charm. “And why am I a natural choice for this? My mistress won’t like it.”

“You can command shadows. Magic flows in your blood. My own power wanes as people don’t believe in me and stop leaving offerings for me. Your power comes from the moon and the earth, and those things are constant.”

“The fucking moon is not constant, you dolt,” you mutter, indignant. “And my sisters and I leave offerings for your kind. We never ceased.”

“But your numbers have dwindled,” he pointed out, and it was the most reasonable thing you’ve heard him say all night. “I’ll take care of Hecate,” he assures you, grinning wickedly.

You snort. “Nice try, she’s a virgin.”

“I know, I’ve been trying to crack her for millenia,” he tells you mournfully.

“Are you ever going to apologize for that night in Virginia during the Civil War?”

“If she apologizes for kicking me out of her temple in Troy just before it fell.” He reaches across the table, his large hands warm as they cover yours. “Please. Just do me this one favor, and I’ll apologize to your mistress.”

“She’ll be furious with me for helping you,” you point out, already softening toward him. Even though your mistress despised the leprechaun, she didn’t forbid you or your sisters from seeing him. He was a useful friend. Everyone needs a bit of luck sometimes, although from the looks of him, Mad Sweeney was down on his. He’d been dwindling for the past century or so, but creatures such as you take a long time to vanish from the memory of the human psyche. There would always be magic, mortals felt its pull even when their science tried to explain it away. The thought of Mad Sweeney’s dwindling saddened you, and you sighed and leaned back against the vinyl seat. “Alright. I’ll help you.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting go, and for a moment the wickedness of his grin made you regret the vow of celibacy you took to serve your mistress. You could always break it and move on to the next incarnation, but being a Maiden was all you knew. You were not like your mistress, Maiden and Mother and Crone all at once, voice bright as a girl’s laughter and raspy as crunching leaves at the same time.

You glanced up out the darkening window, feeling the darkness of the moon in that magical place somewhere in your belly. “Tonight is a good night to do it. I’ll find you at moonrise tomorrow.”

You leave him spluttering questions at your back as you go to prepare. “Moonrise,” he half-snarls. “What the fuck time is moonrise? Why do I even bother working with witches anymore?” You smile and wave your hand over your shoulder, hear the indignant yelp as your mild slap-curse finds its mark, and step out into the darkening city street.

You hate the city and never come here unless you have to, but when those infuriating green eyes and vivid red hair appeared in your silver scrying bowl, you’d known where he would be. Disliked as he was by your sisters, the witches of Hecate never ignored a plea for help. The Mother preaches mercy, and so her daughters give it.

Your preparations are quick, involving only a simple spell to invoke the favor of the elements and the protection of the moon’s darkness. You cast your runesticks, an old Viking magic that you’ve always had a knack for, but tonight their pattern eludes you. Nights of the moon’s darkness are the best nights for stealth, and so you make your way, cloaked in shadows, to the stronghold of the New Gods.

Everything about it feels foreign and sterile, cut off from the freedom of trees and the softness of sunlight. It wants to drain you, to drink you into nothingness, and the shield of your magic is barely strong enough to keep you safe. You know the instant you set foot in this fortress that you’ve walked into a trap. Shadows are no match against blinding fluorescent lights, and the magic of mists cannot shield you from machines and metal.

The drinking of your magic by this place of metal and lights is an agony, and you wonder if this is how vampire’s victims feel as they’re consumed. Mercifully, darkness swallows you before long: the dark of a moonless night, the same dark that failed to protect you. There’s enough of its power within you to grant this one small mercy.

There is no passing of time in that endless night, just the silence of shadows. But then something is crashing into your oblivion like the sun rising: something warm and solid, something undeniably alive. “You’re alrigh’, little witch, you’re alrigh’, I’ve got ya now,” you barely register the thick brogue, the shattering of lightbulbs and flashes of lightning through your closed eyelids before drifting off in your darkness again. Thank the Mother, she didn’t take this small mercy from you after you probably angered your mistress.

Suddenly you’re gasing and shuddering into wakefulness, like a half-drowned swimmer wo’s just clawed their way to the surface. The moon is thin and barely risen above the edge of the world, the darkness is still only a dusky purple-gray. Your cheek is rubbing against something coarse, you’re swaying gently in midair with the rhythm of long, loping strides. “It isn’t moonrise,” is the only thing you can think to say.

“Aye, little witch, and if I’d waited til moonrise ya might be dead. Yer welcome.” His chuckle rumbles through your side, his arms squeezing you tighter for an instant. You feel him crouch, hear the cheerful rushing of a small stream, and crane your head to find it. You stumble when he sets you on your feet, but his arm lingers around your waist to steady you.

“Turn around,” you order, not waiting to see if he obeys before shimmying out of your filthy clothes and stepping into the stream. You scrub fistfuls of clear, cool water, watching it sluice silver over your skin in the thin moonlight. Mad Sweeney’s eyes are heavy on you, palpable as a touch, and for a moment you consider what it would be like to shed the identity of the Maiden and become the Mother. You shake off the thought and allow the water and the moon to do their work on you, blood washing away downstream, wounds slowly closing.

You cross your arms over your breasts and finally turn to Mad Sweeney, trying your best to ignore his parted mouth and feral green eyes. You shiver beneath his gaze, and he smiles slowly. “Can you work one of your damn faerie magics and glamour me an outfit or something?”

“What’s wrong, little witch? Afraid of the creatures of the wild woods?” His tone is gentle despite his taunting words, and with a wave of his hand he swathes you in an extravagant dres made of something silky and otherworldly. “Cobwebs suit you, little witch.” You grin at him, and in all your centuries if life, you’ve never seen something quite so sane in a madman’s eyes.