Jan 16
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TH01 - Double Edge Sword
Name: Duncan Liggett III Age: 28 Sign: Cancer Affiliation: The Witch Coven, North Parish Church. Biography: No matter from which side you look, Duncan is not a man to be toyed with. He takes his work as a priest very seriously, always alerting the members of his parish against the acts of the devil and how to avoid them. His speeches on Sunday are filled with firm commands, from God Himself, he would tell you. Father Duncan is loved and feared by the community because of such fervent love of his vocation. What few know - and these few have a name and a surname known by him - is that heâs also the only heir of the Liggetts. A family of witches and warlocks, respected inside Covens throughout Europe. Tradition turned him into a puritan when it comes about witches as well. There are rules in the Coven. Simple ones, he would tell you. If any of his brothers in Dark canât follow them, they are as good as dead. This judgement often takes place when he works on the backstage of the trials of Salem. Â
Headcanons:
Duncan is created for this plot. So heâs closed. I can perfectly make a second/third version if you want.Â
@arrynheir Your Grace King Harrold, I hope that this letter finds you well. I admit that this is a particular line of correspondence I would have hoped to have established weeks prior, however our situation in the Westerlands continued to require my full attention - a fact which I know you will be graciously considerate of. I will not bore you with the details of ongoings which are out of your range of aid as King in the Vale, but times have been trying - as we expected them to be - and as you well know, the looming threat of the Greyjoy-Lannister problem continues to go unanswered. Though it remained never far from my mind that I was in need of beginning communications with you, I admit humbly that I did succumb to these stressors which are in most cases better left to the guidance of my husband, and was rendered a bit frail in recent times. I apologize for it. However, despite my slowed start, I believe wholly that we still remain firmly ahead and able to set forth the next stages of how to navigate the continued pacification of Westeros. By this, I refer to addressing the problem of the former Queen Regnant, Daenerys Targaryen. During the celebration at Furyâs Keep hosted by my husband, I happened upon a shocking discovery: Daenerys Targaryen, in our midst. Perhaps this was not new information to you, but I was taken aback by this revelation - it was until this moment that I was under the impression she continued to dwell in Meereen, where it was believed - by everyone, so far as I knew - that you sent her months prior. I approached her there, and perhaps naĂŻvely I attempted to learn of her intentions. She betrayed nothing of great value, other than the knowledge that she is dwelling somewhere in Dorne, under the protection of the eldest Dornish Prince, Quentyn Martell. I cannot say what the involvement of King Doran may or may not be. I also cannot be certain of what King Stannis may or may not know, given the alliance brought on by his daughter and the youngest Martell. I cannot undo the words I have exchanged with you in the past. It is true that I greeted your ascension coldly, and for that you may assume the leanings of myself and His Grace in regards to this issue. But the reality lies to the contrary. In your time as King, we have heard of prospering in the Vale, and simultaneously we have heard nothing of terror brought on by dragons. As we all know in Westeros, Daenerys Targaryen is very much the child of her predecessors - and therein lies the problem. It is my belief that her cause is not simply for the retaking of the Vale, but for the retaking of Westeros and the Iron Throne. This cannot pass. I recognize that our paths have not always crossed kindly, and for that I apologize - my behavior towards you has lacked the courtesies you were due, and those that were instilled in me. However, I believe that we hold similar goals in mind: the maintenance of the current schema of regions and rulers in Westeros, and the end of the violence in the Isles led by Euron Greyjoy and Tywin Lannister. Though Westeros is a successfully split realm, we remain stronger when we stand together. I pray you think the same. While I was unable to garner the full trust of the former Queen, I believe she has an interest in striking some sort of alliance with Renly. I managed to procure a meeting, the date of which has yet to be known, between myself and Quentyn Martell. Perhaps Daenerys believes that should the Dornish Prince convince me of her cause, I will then convince His Grace to offer her military aid. Other than our council here, you are the only other person to be made privy to this information. I have chosen this path, because I would like for you to journey here to the Westerlands and prepare with me a line of questioning that I might deliver to Quentyn Martell. In this way, anything you may wish to know may be ascertained during this meeting, which I then will relay to you after he has left Furyâs Keep. Though I normally would not wish to involve myself in the complicated mess of deception, I see no other way to maintain Westeros as it is. I would ask that you keep this matter private, so as to avoid information reaching Daenerysâ ears through unsavory channels. We must squash her plot before it can be properly fostered into a true threat. I hope you will agree, and I eagerly await your response. Earnestly, Margaery Baratheon Queen of the Rock and the ReachÂ
   Manicured nails have been knocking on Ravenâs door for what Juliet will tell you is ages, but really itâs only a few minutes. Theyâre still minutes that sheâs paying for. Literally.  The cab that drove the demanding brunette there is still idling expectantly in front, Julietâs bags are also in there. She knew without a doubt that things would go well.
   The night before was still a confusing blur to Juliet, a bonfire and Raven singing and Juliet feeling ambushed and cornered, two feelings that she loathed. She liked to be in control. But, that old saying was true: things are clearer in the morning.
   The second the door opens, Juliet launches into a well rehearsed speech:
   âI will give you one last chance. Raven. Fuck it up and Iâll be the one leaving you this time. Understand?â
Can you explain how to get the music player to work on your Flawless theme?
find the spot that says "billy music code" and paste your code there, i have instructions on how to get the code in my faq :-)
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hey, how do you add the link URLs?
find the spots that say âlink one url / link two url / link three urlâ and paste them there!
also, it looks like you have both the 400px and 500px options selected, which is why there are two versions of all the gifsets on your blog; you need to choose one of them and deselect the other for your posts to display correctly.
Hi I would like to use your theme flawless and I really like the background picture so can you send it to me please?
here you go :-)
Hold My Breath
Mara didnât smell the smoke.
She didnât sense much at all, actually â the smoke wasnât strong enough to wake her up, facedown and dazed on the floor of someoneâs room in a frat house she didnât recognize, the fire licking at the walls just above her line of vision, and the sounds of wall turning to ash and ember just outside the edge of her hearing.
She knew sheâd had too much to drink, and this felt more like the remnants of a date rape drug teasing at the edges of her system, but it didnât matter. It was already too late.
Originally, she hadnât planned on coming here. She had only been in Pittsburgh a month or so, a new, fake Pennsylvania driverâs license in her pocket even if she didnât know how to drive and a wad of cash stuffed into her bra, and she hadnât planned on staying long. Within a week, she didnât think she liked the town and had set her sights to try Philadelphia â Pittsburgh didnât have the depravity she was used to so far, and even if it was pleasant, it didnât pay as well. And Mara had always been in it for the money.
She had been skeptical to try the University of Pittsburgh, but one of the girls said it was popular around this time of year, the coming back to school parties and the boys just getting out from under their parentsâ thumb. There was a bar some of the boys used who would rather pay fifty bucks than try their hand at chatting up a girl at parties, and Mara gave it a shot. They were right, and more â some grad student picked her out easily, got down to business, and offered her cash to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night at his old frat house, complete with a fuck in one of the bedrooms upstairs.
Devin Lange. The name blurs in and out of her mind as the smoke fills the room and begins seeping deeper into her lungs, but she remembers now. He reminded her of it before they walked in â Devin Lange, microbiology, great cock, he said to tell everyone â and it wasnât hard to pass off. A few winks at him across the room, shifting her body and moving her legs until her skirt was nearly indecent to distract the guys she was talking to. And enough beer and liquor and weed to keep everyone off their game. It was a perfect gig for Mara, and she took advantage of it all. Devin got the fuck of his life, panting and wide-eyed afterwards, and Mara got to wipe the come from her mouth and get back down to the party and the tequila.
Itâs fuzzy after that. A spiked drink, probably, one of Devinâs supposed friends who wanted to fuck the hot girl that the nerd got to bring to the party, dragged her upstairs until she passed out on the floor and he couldnât lift her up onto the bed. She can sense that sheâs clothed, clothed enough that apparently he never got the chance and that presumably he got out in time.
But none of that matters now, she thinks, the haze of her mind clearing as the haze of smoke over her head intensifies. Thereâs a fire, a bad one, something sheâs never seen before, and itâs eating up the frat house entirely. All she can see is flame and ash and smoke, and she coughs violently before she works up all the energy she has left, everything that isnât groggy from the drugs and the alcohol and whatever else was burning up her system, and she lifts herself from the floor.
